All Afternoon with a Scandalous Marquess (21 page)

“The undeniable fact that a physical attraction pulls us closer to the edge.”

“The edge of what?”

“Inevitability.” His fingers brushed her neck and moved downward to her breasts. Even though he wore gloves, she could feel the heat radiating from his hands. “That we will be lovers.”

Again.

Her breasts tingled and her nipples tightened in anticipation that she had no business feeling. She bit her lower lip as she shook her head. “No.”

His finger traced the edge of her bodice. “Why are you so resistant to the idea of becoming my lover? Does my face offend? Did you not once find exquisite pleasure in my arms?”

Secret longing and denial warred with frustration. “I—I…” Staring at his handsome face was muddling her brain. Madame Venna lowered her gaze to her bodice. Six years of yearning for what she could not have threatened to burst her heart. “It is never good to mix business and pleasure.”

“What business has transpired between us?” he asked, while she watched his hand move tenderly over her left breast. “You are quite aware that I have not bedded any of your girls in years.”

She smiled, trying to imagine a gentleman like Sainthill eschewing all pleasures. “You have not been celibate.”

“No,” he readily admitted. “I have taken mistresses over the years. However, the lust and excitement that lure me to their beds swiftly pale. More than a year has past since I bothered seeking a replacement for my last lover.”

“More than a year?” she said, her voice rich with disbelief. “It is a quite a while for a gentleman with your appetites.”

Saint’s grin was self-deprecating. “Agreed. It took me longer to come to the same conclusion you had years earlier.”

Madame Venna gasped as he seized the front of her bodice and tugged her closer until they were nose-to-nose.

“And what conclusion is that,
monsieur le marquis
?” she said breathlessly.

“A nameless lover will suffice for a night or two, but there is only one woman I want in my bed. You.”

She closed her eyes because she did not want him to see the joy his words gave her. “You make too much of the night we shared six years ago.”

“And you refuse to admit that it meant more to you than a fuck” was his crude response. “You had feelings for me. Just as I had feelings for you.”

“No.”

“Then prove it,” he said, tightening his grip when she struggled to escape. “Take me as your lover. Let me undress you. Caress you and learn every inch of you. I want to feel you beneath me, fill you with my cock, and thrust until you cry out my name.”

“Is that all?” she asked huskily.

He bowed his head until his lips reached her ear. “When the lust is sated, I want to hold you in my arms. If exhaustion claims you, you can trust me to guard you while you slumber. I promise you will not regret how I intend to wake you.”

Saint was demanding something from her that she was incapable of giving him. She knew so little of tenderness. Her innocence was taken from her in violence. It had placed her on a path where her body was something to be used to get what she wanted. She had taken lovers for profit, and later to fill the growing emptiness in her. Saint was the only man she had taken into her bed solely for her selfish pleasure.

And that had ended badly for both of them.

“You deserve better than a whore in your bed,
mon chéri.
” Her eyes welled up with unexpected tears. “A woman who can offer you more than just her body.”

The coach slowly came to a halt, spurring Madame Venna into action. With the help of the vehicle’s springs, she pushed Saint away and managed to unbalance him. As he fell against the seat, she scrambled over his legs and opened the door. She did not bother waiting for the coachman to assist her. Landing hard on her feet, she grabbed the front of her skirt and hurried for the side entrance of the Golden Pearl.

Madame Venna heard male voices behind her, but she ignored them. The only thought in her head was to put as much distance between her and Saint as physically possible. If she stayed, he might succeed in swaying her.

And where would that leave me?

Alone. Or worse, pining for a man who would go on to marry a lady befitting his title and wealth like Sinclair and some of the other Lords of Vice had.

She opened the door and nodded to the guard stationed near the door before rushing down the passageway. To avoid questions from Anna or anyone else, she took the servants’ stairs up to her private rooms. She was out of breath when she reached her bedchamber. Gasping for air, she made a choking sound of frustration as she realized that she had left her reticule behind in the coach.

Her key was inside that reticule.

She tugged on the door, but it was locked.
How could I have been so careless?
she thought wildly. Of course, she had a spare key, but that was hardly the point. Now Saint—

Sensing that she was being watched, Madame Venna turned and came face-to-face with the gentleman she had just escaped. Her reticule dangled from his fingers.

Madame Venna frowned. How had he gotten by the guard? “How did— Where?”

“You seem surprised.” Saint held up her key. “Forget something?”

She inched backward until her back bumped against the door. He reached around, inserted the key into the lock, and twisted. With his gaze never leaving her face, he opened the door.

“You are not being wise,” she said hoarsely, wondering where she would find the strength to send him away.

“My choice, love,” he said, sounding not very lover-like in his fury at her. “Before your reckless departure, you and I reached an accord. Let’s get right to it, shall we?”

Chapter Twenty-six

It was rare from him to catch Madame Venna off guard, but there was no time to savor his victory. The guard he had managed to knock out would not remain unconscious for long. Once the alarm was raised, the Golden Pearl would be searched floor by floor.

Except for her private rooms.

No one gained entry unless he or she was invited.

Whether or not Madame Venna wanted to admit it, she had opened the door to her bedchamber.

Oh, he did not underestimate the woman’s temper. She was just as likely to revoke her invitation out of spite. However, Saint could be very persuasive when he wanted something.

And he wanted this woman.

Even if she had a few doubts about him.

He had never seen anyone disembark from a coach as quickly as Madame Venna had managed. She could have broken her ankle leaping out as she had. Initially, he had chased after her so he could scold her for her recklessness. When he did his best to crack the skull of one of her guards, he realized that he had already crossed the line.

There was no going back for either of them.

Saint backed her into the dark interior of the bedchamber. Removing the key from the lock, he closed the door. Then he reinserted the key and locked them in.

Darkness enshrouded them. For all he knew, she was searching for something to bash over his head. It was the least he deserved, though he had no intention of pointing that fact out to her.

“This accord you speak of,” she said, her voice thick with her accented inflections. “Precisely, what is our agreement?”

Saint slipped the key into his waistcoat pocket. The room would have been easier to navigate if one of them bothered to light a candle, but he did not ask for one. Unless the furniture in the room had been rearranged, he recalled the layout of the room. When she did not light a candle, he quietly removed his evening coat. He dropped it on what he thought was a chair. Next he attacked the buttons on his waistcoat, and then his cravat. The buttons on his linen shirt. He pulled the thin garment over his head.

“What do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

Without seeing her face, he could concentrate on her voice. Madame Venna sounded nervous. Wary. Nevertheless, this was no shy virgin. Six years ago, she had been eager and exquisitely skilled in the arts of lovemaking. He knew she had reveled in his skills as well. He wore the scratches she had made on his back for weeks.

“Remove your shoes and stockings,” he said, bracing his palm on the armrest of the chair as he continued to undress. “I will help you with your gown.”

“Saint…” There was a question in her voice, but she did not ask it. Instead, there was resignation in her exhale.

He could tell from the soft sounds that she was complying with his request. There was a chance that she might have fought him. Either she thought she would lose the battle of wills or she desired this coupling as much as he did.

A gentleman might have left his trousers in place for the sake of modesty. Saint never felt like a gentleman around Madame Venna. Naked, he walked in the direction of her voice. Now he was grateful she had not insisted on lighting a candle. His cock was stiff and fully aroused. It was a condition he was swiftly becoming accustomed to whenever she was in the vicinity.

She started when his fingers brushed her shoulder.

“Here, allow me to assist you,” he murmured, guiding her to straighten so he could unfasten the buttons at the back of her dress.

Saint had undressed his fair share of women, so he was quite a competent lady’s maid. With considerable ease and her assistance, he wordlessly revealed layer upon layer of clothing, dropping the garments on the rug until nothing remained but her chemise.

Saint moved behind her in the darkness. He placed his hands on her hips and shifted her to the side so that her buttocks rested against his right hipbone. His eagerness to consummate their renewed friendship was obvious, or it would have been if he poked her with his cock. Madame Venna covered his hands with hers, and allowed the back of her head to rest against his upper chest.

“There was a guard at the door,” she murmured, rubbing against him. “How did you get by him?”

Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door.

“He was still breathing when I left him.”

Madame Venna turned her head until her cheek brushed his chest. “They will expect me to answer. Otherwise, Abram will unlock the door.”

Saint grasped her hand and brought it to his straining arousal. Her finger curled around the rigid length and squeezed. The threat of an audience should have withered his cock, but the woman in his arms was a potent aphrodisiac.

“Madame V?” a feminine voice said from the other side of the door.

“Oui,”
she shouted back. “Saint—”

“Your man has a sore jaw and head,” he assured her. He lowered her head to nuzzle her shoulder. “The only men I feel like killing are the ones who have shared your bed. Since Frost still lives, I pose no threat to your staff. Do not allow them to interfere.”

There was another knock at the door.

“I have to … wait here.” Her fingers slid teasingly down the length of his arousal as she headed for the door. “Where is the key?” she whispered.

Although his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he could only discern the vague outline of her body. “Buried somewhere in my clothes.”

“Not very helpful, are you?” she whispered back. To the woman on the other side of the door, she said, “I have retired for the evening. Is there a problem, Anna?”

Saint crossed the room to her. Despite her attempts to avoid his hands, he spun her halfway around and backed her against the wall next to the door. He pressed closer, letting her feel the thickness of his cock against her belly.

“One of the guards was attacked. Abram fears the man might still be on the premises.”

As Anna explained what had taken place and the guard’s injuries, Madame Venna struggled against him. “Stop at once. Anna will hear you,” she said, her voice barely audible.

If Anna used her key to open the door, she would catch her mistress in a very compromising position. With a mischievous smile on his lips, he held her firmly by the hips as he lowered himself to his knees.

“Are you mad?”

Not quite, but he had high hopes for the evening. The woman never ceased to surprise him. As the owner of one of the most expensive brothels in London, Madame Venna was astonishingly restrained when it came to indulging her carnal appetites. Perhaps the yoke of responsibility hindered her from being distracted by her own needs.

Fortunately, for her, Saint was willing to teach her to shirk her responsibilities for a few hours. His hands traveled along the contours of her hips and down her legs until his fingers could grasp the hem of her chemise. Slowly, he inched the fabric higher, exposing the curly tuft of hair between her legs.

“No.”

Yes.
Saint leaned forward and put his mouth on her, his tongue delving into the soft yielding folds. His splayed hands slid lower so his fingers could part the dampening flesh so he could taste her.

“Bonté divine!”
she said breathlessly.

“I did not quite hear you.” Anna tried the doorknob and discovered the door was still locked. “Madame, did you hear me? We might have an uninvited guest—”

Saint circled the swollen nubbin, eliciting a faint muffled sound. Her fingers threaded his hair, and she tugged hard. To retaliate, his thumb stroked the wet sensitive folds between her legs until he reached her womanly sheath. He circled the sensitive border as he teased the nubbin with the tip of his tongue.

Madame Venna inhaled sharply. “C-check the first floor … then outdoors, around the Golden P-pearl.”

“Madame, are you well?” Anna hesitated. “Perhaps you should open the door—”

“Stop that!” she whispered to Saint.

“Madame?”

Her breath burst through her parted lips in a hiss. Saint savored the sound. The grip she had on his head was painful, but he did not cease his tender assault. He continued the gliding circles, her welcoming wetness of her arousal allowing him to deepen the penetration of her sheath.

His hard cock pulsed as it thumped against his thigh. Soon he would be in her, he promised himself.

“No, I am fine. I—I … Don’t worry about the m-man. He has likely taken what h-he wanted and is gone.” She dragged air into her lungs as she struggled to maintain her composure.