Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (25 page)

He refused to wait another instant.

Without pausing to remove the remainder of his clothing, he settled himself between her splayed thighs and braced his weight on his forearms. The tip of his erection brushed through her curls and over her silky folds. Looking into her eyes, he eased slowly inside her, absorbing the way her wet, velvety flesh gripped him, stopping when he reached the barrier of her maidenhead.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed to say.

“I’ll hurt
you
if you stop now.”

If he’d been capable of laughter, he would have chuckled. Instead, he thrust and slid deep inside her. Then groaned.

Bloody hell, she was so wet and so tight and he was so hard and so close to the edge of his control. He fisted his hands and forced himself to remain still, bludgeoning back the clawing need to simply take her with long, deep, hard thrusts.

She was looking up at him through wide eyes filled with both surprise and hesitancy. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, slowly, then more positively. “Yes. Are you?”

I’m dying
. “I’m fine.”

“I feel…filled. Are all men as…
blessed
as you?”

Christ. He was trembling, could barely think, barely breathe, and she expected him to answer questions? “I don’t know. Right now, I’d wager I’m the most blessed man in England. And also the most, um, impatient.”

“Excellent. Because I want to know everything. There is more, isn’t there?”

He huffed out a breath. “Yes. There’s more.” Unable to remain still any longer, he slowly withdrew, nearly
all the way, then sank again into her wet heat, her body gripping him like a silken fist. He continued those long, slow, deep strokes, watching her hesitation dissipate, turning to need as she clutched his shoulders and moved beneath him, awkwardly at first, but still meeting his every thrust. His breathing turned rough and choppy, and every short breath he dragged into his lungs burned. Need scraped him, and his thrusts increased in speed. Her eyes drifted closed, and with her fingers digging into his shoulders, she arched her back, a low cry escaping her parted lips. He thrust deep, embedding himself fully, then stilled, watching her, feeling her climax pulse around him, clenching, squeezing his shaft. The instant he felt her body go limp, he withdrew and gathered her close, his erection pressed tightly between their damp bodies. Burying his face in the warm, fragrant curve of her neck, his release shuddered through him, dragging a guttural groan from his throat.

When his tremors subsided, he lifted his head. And found her regarding him with a dazed, bemused expression. One, he suspected, that perfectly matched his own. He shifted, prepared to roll off her so as not to crush her, but her arms tightened around his shoulders and she shook her head.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

A warm tenderness, unlike anything he’d known before, eased through him, and he gently brushed his fingertips over her smooth cheek. “I’m not leaving. I just don’t wish to crush you.”

“You’re not. Your body on mine, your skin against mine, your weight…it all feels so lovely. I’m always cold, and now, well, I’ve never felt so delightfully warm in my entire life.”

I’m always cold
. An image of her—cold, hungry, dirty, desperate—flashed in his mind and his chest went hollow. He wasn’t certain how to respond, indeed, words
suddenly felt completely beyond him. All he could do was stare at her, and wonder…at how a woman with no sexual experience had managed to please him more than any other woman ever had. And at the unprecedented heart-tugging feelings curling through him.

Before he could speak, she said, “It did not escape my notice that you freed yourself of your bonds. I’d tied you very securely. How did you manage it?”

“Just a little trick I picked up during my spy days.”

“I’m impressed.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m an impressive fellow.”

She breathed out a long, pleasure-filled sigh. “You’ll receive no argument from me.”

His gaze roamed her face, settling on a stray dark curl resting on her cheek. He stared at that silky skein, then rubbed it between his fingers. According to his card reading, the danger surrounding him concerned a dark-haired woman. And he suddenly realized that
this
dark-haired woman and the way she made him feel did indeed present a danger to him. Not the sort his instincts had been warning him about, but in a way he suspected could prove just as dangerous.

Because she very easily could jeopardize his heart.

Alex came awake slowly, blinking against the
shafts of bright sunlight streaming through the French windows. Sunlight? What time was it?

Pushing herself up onto one elbow, she winced at the tenderness between her legs and turned her sleep-heavy gaze toward at the mantel clock. Her eyes snapped open. Nine o’clock? She never slept so late! Never slept for more than a few hours at a time—

Memory returned with a thump, and she swiveled her head to gaze at the empty pillow next to hers. The pillow that still bore the indentation where he’d lain. Leaning over, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The pillow that still bore faint traces of his scent.

An all-over blush warmed her naked body, and, with a sigh, she lay back down, clutching his pillow to her. The soft material abraded her sensitive nipples, and her eyes slid closed, vividly recalling the incredible sensation of his hands and mouth caressing her breasts. Sensual memories bombarded her, and she made no effort to push them aside, instead basking in every one. Colin gently cleansing away the evidence of their lovemaking.
Removing the rest of his clothes. Exploring her body with a gentle passion that left her breathless. Teaching her how to touch him, of what pleased and aroused him, then finding endless ways to please and arouse her. Encouraging her curiosity, refusing to allow her to feel in any way embarrassed or inhibited. Then making love to her again, with such intensity she’d collapsed in his arms afterward, limp and sated and boneless in the most deliciously wicked way.

The last thing she recalled was curling against him, her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest and absorbing the slap of his rapidly beating heart, her thigh settled across his, and his lips pressed against her temple, whispering her name. She’d never felt so safe and warm and secure in her entire life.

She certainly now knew what all the fuss was about. Knew that terrible, wonderful need that had to be satisfied. Understood why men and women escaped to dark alleys to assuage their lustful urges.

Yet unlike those back-alley liaisons, there had been nothing sordid about what she’d shared with Colin. He’d been everything she’d known he would be—tender and patient and beautiful. And for reasons she couldn’t understand, he clearly desired her—a man who could have any woman he wanted. Why on earth would he want her?

He wouldn’t—not for a minute if he knew what you really were. What you’d been. How you’d lived your life.

Hot moisture pooled behind her eyes, shocking and mortifying her. What on earth was wrong with her? She
never
cried. Certainly not since she’d been a child. Not since she’d held her mother’s hand and watched the only person she had in the world pass away.

After brushing away the moisture with impatient fingers, she firmly set aside his pillow, then rose. There
was no reason to feel so uncharacteristically weepy. She was merely unaccustomed to the intimacies they’d shared. They’d simply touched her heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Which explained all the foreign feelings and emotions roiling through her, leaving her vulnerable and unsettled. Feelings and emotions she needed to keep tightly reined in, lest the seeds she feared were already planted be given room to grow.

Crossing toward the ceramic pitcher and bowl in the corner, she paused in front of the cheval glass. And stared. At a naked wide-eyed woman with loose, tousled hair, flushed skin, and kiss-swollen lips. To her, there was no missing the knowing, carnal gleam in her eyes that had not been there before. Would anyone else notice? Emma certainly would, but hopefully only because her friend knew her so well.

She studied her reflection for several long minutes, trying to see what Colin saw, why he had singled her out for his attentions, but couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t because she was beautiful because she simply was not. Not with her irregular features, and certainly not if compared to the stunning and elegant young women available during the Season. Yet he’d claimed she was exquisite. Perhaps he needed spectacles?

He’d seemed inordinately enthralled with her body, but as far as she could tell, hers did not differ in any way from any other woman’s, except that she was perhaps a bit taller than was fashionable. Perhaps he behaved in a similar way with all his lovers—

She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head, refusing to think of his kissing, touching, making love to another woman. He would be doing so soon enough—to a woman who would not only be his lover but his wife. A woman who would never, could never be her.

So she would simply concentrate on enjoying their brief time together. Of remembering the magical way
he’d made her feel. Of how indescribably safe and warm she felt in his arms. And then, she would let him go.

Opening her eyes, she straightened her spine and continued toward the water pitcher. As she approached, she spied a folded piece of vellum near the wooden stand. Her footsteps quickened, then she stared. At the vellum and the small object resting next to it. She reached out an unsteady hand and took the note. After unfolding it, she read the brief message:

She picked up the single piece of marzipan that rested next to the note. The candy looked like a perfect miniature orange. Her heart turned over, then plummeted a bit farther into the emotion-filled canyon from which she despaired of ever retrieving it.
Until later
…

God help her, she could not wait.

Colin paced the length of Lord Wexhall’s drawing room, impatiently waiting for his brother to appear. “Gift, indeed,” he muttered, glancing down at the bundle of black puppy fur asleep in the crook of his arm.

Bloody hell. He should have known Nathan would do something like this. Try to bribe him into taking on one of his menagerie by calling it a gift. Well, he wasn’t having any of it. If he gave his overrun-with-animals brother even the slightest encouragement, he’d soon find himself with not only a dog, but cats and goats and pigs and ducks and cows and God only knows what else. The puppy’s floppy ears twitched in its sleep, and Colin sighed.

Naturally Nathan wouldn’t give him just any puppy.
No, he’d give him an absolutely melt-your-heart adorable, irresistible puppy. But resist he must, for if he didn’t, he knew that the parade of farm beasts that would follow this sweetly innocent dog would never end. Therefore, the minute Nathan appeared, he’d pretend total indifference to the puppy and place him right back into the hands that had delivered it. Blasted nuisance of a brother. The only thing that he could say for Nathan’s gift was that it had accomplished the impossible by making him think of something besides Alexandra.

Alexandra
. An image of her instantly rose in his mind, and his pacing slowed. Alexandra, naked and sated, her soft lips parted, her eyes heavy with sexual languor, reaching out her arms to him. Alexandra, asleep, her pliant body nestled against his. He’d held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, her skin, brushing gentle kisses against her temple, reliving each moment of their passion until it was indelibly branded in his brain.

Normally after the passions were spent, he took his leave, preferring to put some distance between himself and his partner. But the feel of Alexandra asleep in his arms had suffused his entire being with a sense of peace unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Not until the first mauve streaks of dawn threatened to break through the night sky did he leave her, and even then he’d had to force himself to do so. Only four hours had passed since he’d slipped from her bed, yet it felt more like four decades.

“Good morning, Colin.”

Nathan’s cheerful voice yanked him from his thoughts. He turned and watched his brother stride toward him. Nathan’s gaze dipped to the puppy, and his smile widened. “Ah! I see you finally discovered your gift. I left him with Ellis, who assured me he’d be well taken care of until he delivered him into your hands.”

“At a time when you were not around for me to hand the beast back to you.”

Nathan’s grin was unrepentant. “Precisely. Timing is an art, you know. As is matchmaking. I took one look at that puppy and knew he was destined to be yours.”

“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the beast’s company. Therefore, I must return him.” But damn it, even as he said the words, somehow his arm remained cuddling the sleeping dog.

“Nonsense. A man who senses danger in his life needs a good watchdog.”

“Perhaps. But you cannot possibly believe that
this
is the dog for the job. As far as I can tell, he’d do nothing but lick an intruder. Indeed, all this beast is capable of doing is sleeping, eating, chewing on boots, piddling on floors, and yipping in a deafening fashion. Especially when one is trying to sleep.”

“That pretty well describes puppies in general. Which is why they are so incredibly adorable—to offset those other less endearing qualities.”

“It is precisely those other less endearing qualities that have prevented me from acquiring one.”

“From acquiring one, yes. But not from wanting one.”

“I don’t want—”

“Of course you do. You’re just too stubborn to admit it. Look at how perfectly little Daffodil fits in your arms.”

Colin blinked then looked toward the ceiling. “Daffodil? Good God. What sort of name is Daffodil for a boy dog?”

“You are, of course, welcome to save him from a life of shame and rename him. I can only guess that he’d greatly appreciate it.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t gnaw off your arm at saddling him with such a horrendous moniker. But
you
shall have to rename him, as I’m not keeping him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you. And I therefore know that creatures named Rosebud, Lilac, Hydrangea, Lily, and Chrysanthemum will soon follow, and my home will resemble a farmhouse.”

Nathan laid his hand over his heart. “You have my word that no farm beasts named Rosebud, Lilac, Hydrangea, Lily, or Chrysanthemum will follow.”

Colin narrowed his eyes, well acquainted with Nathan’s tricks. “Or Gardenia, or Larkspur or anything of that sort.”

“Agreed. Actually, I gave you Daffodil not only to protect you—”

“—Excellent, as I fear that is a hopeless case—”

“—But also because he will help you secure a bride.”

He stared, nonplussed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Bride,” Nathan repeated, drawing out the syllable slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “Take Daffodil for a long walk in Hyde Park. Believe me, there is nothing quite like a gamboling puppy to draw female attention. You can narrow your bride search by rejecting any lady who isn’t immediately smitten with your darling dog, as she is clearly coldhearted and not worthy of your admiration. And certainly not worthy of being your bride and bearing the title Viscountess Sutton.” He spread his hands and smiled. “See how helpful I am?”

“I’m not certain helpful is the word I would use to describe you right now,” he muttered.

Bride. Viscountess Sutton
. The words lurched through him, reminding him he’d barely devoted a moment’s consideration to the very reason he’d come to London. All thoughts of finding a bride had dissolved like sugar in hot chocolate the moment he’d seen Alexandra.

As if the thought of her conjured her up, she appeared in the doorway, standing behind Lord Wexhall’s impeccable butler Peters, who cleared his throat, then
announced, “Madame Larchmont.” The servant withdrew, leaving her framed in the doorway.

Dressed in a plain, unadorned brown day gown, her hair pulled back in a simple chignon at her nape, she stole his breath. Her gaze met his, and he wasn’t in the least bit surprised when his lungs ceased to function for several seconds. He swore something warm and intimate passed between them in that single look. The flood of sensual memories that hovered so close to the surface overflowed, filling him with heat and lust and need and the nearly overwhelming desire to stride across the room and drag her into his arms and spend the rest of the day showing her exactly how much he’d missed her.

Missed her
. It was utterly ridiculous that he would do so after so short an absence, but there was no denying that he had. It was as if he’d sat beneath a cloud from the time he’d left her until now. But now that she’d appeared, the sun had emerged, warming him, filling him with energy. And a deep longing to touch her. Kiss her. To be close to her.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, stepping into the room.

“Good morning,” he murmured, knowing that his too-observant brother would note how his gaze devoured her and not caring.

“Good morning, Madame,” Nathan said. “I hope you slept well?”

She smiled. “I did, thank you. I just saw Lady Victoria in the breakfast room. She wondered if you planned to join her.”

“An invitation I’d never refuse,” Nathan said with a smile. “If you’ll both excuse me?”

He started across the room, but before he’d made it to the doorway, Alexandra’s gaze dipped to the bundle Colin held and her eyes widened. “Oh, my,” she said, a
smile curving her lips—lips he noted that still looked kiss-swollen. “What an adorable puppy!”

Colin heard Nathan’s chuckle from the doorway and when he looked at his brother, Nathan silently mouthed
I told you so
. Then, with a cheery wave, he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Alexandra stopped in front of him, her gaze riveted on the sleeping and unfortunately named Daffodil.

“Who is this?” she asked, running a fingertip over the puppy’s midnight fur.

It took him several seconds to answer as his thought processes were disrupted by her nearness. And the fact that she wasn’t wearing her usual lacy gloves. The sight of her bare hand warmed him far more than it should have. The scent of fresh soap and oranges rose from her skin, and he stared at her fingers, recalling the feel of them stroking his skin. Tunneling through his hair. Wrapped around his erection.

Instead of answering her question, he said softly, “You’re not wearing your gloves.”