Lust (13 page)

 

I am promised to another
.

Like hell.

Thane barely controlled the instinct to lift her into his arms and carry her out of the store. Promised to another man? A mortal, who was no match for him? A Seelie Fey? Never. Whatever she had been told, whatever she thought, Chastity Lennox was his and he protected what was his.

As she looked up at him, her green eyes watching him
warily from beneath the brim of her bonnet, Thane felt the consuming need to make her his. Damn the curse and his court, he would make her his.

Even now, Lust was barely tethered inside him.
Ravish her
was all he could hear pounding in his ears. Damn it, his hand was shaking as he held her wrist in his palm. He wanted her so badly. Too much, he told himself.

Watching his fingers gliding against her skin, which was so white and pure, made him feel like the filthiest of beasts. But he could not help himself. Could not stop. This moment was too much. The feel of her skin, so supple and soft like a rose petal, made him think of things he shouldn't.

The warmth of her pulse fluttered against the pad of his thumb and he felt the erratic beat. Her frantic pulse excited him, called to him, and he could not stop himself from lowering his mouth and nose to her wrist and inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of desire that rushed through him like a drug.

“My lord?” the perfumer inquired.

“Warm, heady,” he murmured as he traced the fine blue veins beneath her skin. “Something to bring out the subtle essence of her skin. Eroticism blended with innocence.”

“Notes of neroli, perhaps,” the perfumer murmured. “As an aromatic, it is as seductive as it is sedative.” Turning, the old man lifted a glass jar from a shelf and reached for a medicine dropper.

“As well as something to heighten the senses,” Thane suggested. “Perhaps a combination of scents that transports
one from the cerebral plane to that of the sub conscious.”

“An aphrodisiac perfume,” the man said with a grin as he put a few drops into a brown glass bottle. “Perhaps a gift for your new bride? Or something to be enjoyed on your wedding night?”

Thane met Chastity's gaze. He wondered if she saw feral hunger in his eyes. A wedding night with Chastity. He wouldn't endure the wait. “Yes. A gift for the lady.”

“I cannot accept it.”

So proud. So demure, he thought as he drew tiny circles over her pulse. Untouched—except by him. Her chasteness at once frustrated him, yet intrigued him. The primitive male within him gloried in her virginal state, for she would belong to him only. He would mold her body to fit only him.

“You know I can't accept a gift,” she whispered as their eyes met. “You place my name and that of my family's in jeopardy, sir.”

Where she was going—to his court—she would not need her name or her reputation. She would be revered as his princess, adored as a virtue and savior of his people. “Please put the perfume in a special bottle for the lady,” Thane ordered. “I believe she is especially fond of the blue-and-gold atomizer.”

Chastity's eyes widened as her gaze darted to the ornate atomizer then back to him.
Yes.
He could read her thoughts, but only when they were deeply connected like this. Touching was simply not enough. Their connection
needed more. Perhaps it was when their gazes were locked like this? Or maybe it was when his heartbeat seemed to synchronize with hers.

Whatever it was, it had happened last night in the garden. He had been able to hear her thoughts, read her body and learn of the deep desire that was hidden within her. A desire he wasn't sure she realized yet.

And that same bond they had shared in the garden had lingered long enough for him to enter her dreams—where she had asked him to kiss her.

Yet she was to be given to another? Not fucking likely. She was intended for him in all ways.
His.
Not some bastard Seelie Fey or incompetent mortal. No other man would have this connection, no male ever could. And he intended to make certain it was impossible. Perhaps he should give her back her memories of the garden. Let her remember how he had skimmed his fingertips along the petals of her sex, how she had watched him lick the wetness off his fingers. He would like to see the expression that would cross her face as she recalled the way he had slowly lowered his head between her thighs and parted her folds with his tongue. But then, he reminded himself, she would recall the moment when her intuition had ruined all. When she had realized he was something other than he claimed. She would remember that he was fey, and this moment would be ruined, too. It was too soon for her to know. He needed to hide what he was from her just a bit longer, until she was sexually ensnared, or better yet, until her heart was engaged, and she trusted him fully.

No, he decided, he could not give her back those memories.

“Sir, you know that this…is quite beyond the pale,” she whispered softly. “We do not even know each other.”

“Indulge me,” he murmured as his thumb rubbed higher, disappearing beneath the sleeve of her light green pelisse. “No one has to know. It will be our secret.” Like last night in the garden. The memories of that, the taste of her, aroused him, made Lust restless inside him.

“How can it be a secret when even now everyone is gawking at us?”

“Believe me, I can make them forget they ever saw us here. Take this small gift as a token of my desire to…court you.”

Her eyes flared wide. “You cannot. That is, I'm already promised—”

“To whom?”

He watched her swallow, followed the delicate movement of her throat. He wanted to kiss her there, inhale her scent as her body warmed. “My father, he has promised us to someone.”

To the faery queen.

Her thoughts echoed inside his head, and he stepped closer, forcing her gaze up to his. “I will fight for you, Chastity Lennox. Believe that.”

“You don't even know me,” she replied, her voice hitching.

Taking her hand, he placed it alongside his face. It felt so right, her skin on his, her flesh pressing into his. “I know that your body and soul are crying out to break
free of the virtue that imprisons you. I know that my own body and soul is trying to desperately answer.”

Her face flamed with embarrassment, but her eyes glistened with womanly desire. “There is no sense in fighting, my lord, for it is hopeless for me to change who, and what, I am.”

“Take the perfume,” he whispered, attempting to tighten his hold on her hand, but she slid her palm from his cheek, leaving him bereft of her touch.

“You try to tempt me with things I cannot accept.”

“Is it so very wrong to be tempted by me?”

She glanced away, her lashes flickering and lowering. “You know it is.”
You are a paragon, a virtue. Intended for something altogether different.

Thane felt her resolve as he heard her words to herself, reminding that quiet voice inside her that she would not—could not—follow where it yearned to go.

She would not invite him in. Even though she might want to, she clutched her virtue tightly to her body.

“May I call upon you?” he asked, struggling to keep his sin in check. Lust had been finished with this conversation long ago. He was ready to carry her like a sack of flour over his shoulder and bring her to court, resisting or not. Lust wanted inside her, but Thane wanted more. Thane wanted that deep connection, to feel them joined more than physically.

“Chastity?” he asked again, capturing her gaze. “May I? Allow me to prove myself. That I am worthy of you.”

She would not look at him, but instead focused on the cobalt-blue atomizer and the amber liquid that was
trickling into the bottle. “My life, my destiny is not my own. I cannot change that fact. So, no, you may not call. And please,” she whispered, finally looking at him with her honest eyes. “Please do not speak with me again. Let us pretend we have never before met.”

A sense of finality hovered between them, and for the first time ever in his existence, Thane experienced an onslaught of panic. She was slipping through his fingers before he had even had a chance with her. How was he to claim her if he could not enter her house? If she would not even speak with him? How was he to seduce someone who appeared to be truly above temptation?

And then he had it. The way into Chastity's home—and her body.

“I will leave you in peace on one condition.”

“And that is?”

He handed her the atomizer and pressed it into her hand. “You must accept my gift.”

Her gaze slipped to the bottle then back to him. “You promise never to speak with me again?”

“I promise to leave you in peace, how about that?”

She studied him, as if knowing that his answer was a play on words. He had no intention of leaving her be, but he did have every intention of seducing her into a peaceful sensuality that would make her beg for more.

“I will accept it,” she said at last.

With a smile he knew was wolfish, Thane tipped his hat to her and sketched a bow. “Then I bid you goodbye.”

Placing a few banknotes on the counter, he paid for
the perfume, then promptly left her, walking to the door, into the bright beams of sun that shone through the transom windows. If he could not court her the mortal way, then he would do so in the manner of the Dark Fey. He had discovered Chastity's greatest weakness. He would become the intoxicating essence of her deepest, most forbidden desire.

Before anyone could see—or notice—he turned into particles of mist and wafted on the sunbeams over to where the perfumer was removing the stopper on the perfume bottle.

“Gently now,” the perfumer was advising Chastity as she bent over the bottle. “A delicate sniff and only a droplet or two is what is needed. This is a most hypnotic creation,” he warned.

Wafting down into the bottle, Thane became the very thing Chastity most coveted.

“Oh, my,” she whispered as she took in his scent mixed with neroli and rose—and him. “It's beautiful. But quite drugging, isn't it?”

“Aye, it is. A love potion, all right,” the old man said with a smile in his voice.

A perfume as an aphrodisiac, Thane mused. He'd never done or thought of becoming such a thing before, but if it afforded him the opportunity to be smeared all over Chastity's body, then who was he to complain? And besides, it allowed him into her home despite the Seelie wards and guards. And he would be in her bedroom. And there was no place he wanted to be more than in Chastity Lennox's bed, covering her body.

NERVOUSLY, CHASTITY SIPPED AT HER TEA, CAREFUL
to ensure that her gaze did not linger on the man seated across from her. He was tall, but not nearly as tall as Thane. He was not as broad, either, but lithe, like a sleek cat. His tawny-colored hair reached his shoulders, the long golden locks tied back in a simple queue. If not for his eyes, which were a lovely and exotic shade of violet, he would have resembled a regal lion. However, with those eyes, he appeared much more than animal—but otherworldly.

And when he smiled, Chastity heard Mary suck in her breath. Admittedly, their visitor was very handsome. But Chastity did not lose her breath the way her sister did. She did not feel warmth, low in her belly, in the place that was never, ever mentioned. Yet, she had felt that warmth and a curious tingling deep inside that morning at the perfumery, when Thane had been there.

She had relived that conversation, those moments when he had touched her, lighting a fire beneath her skin and tissues till it heated her blood. Standing there, gazing up into his beautiful face and eyes—eyes that reflected an enthralling darkness, it had taken every ounce of her steely resolve to deny him. It had been the only thing to do, the voice of reason consoled her. It was right to leave him. But her body continued to disagree. Her body knew what it wanted—Thane's touch. Which frightened her because the touch of a man's hands on her body was something she had never desired before. And that she should want something from only one specific person puzzled—and horrified—her.

How bizarre this whole thing was. How strange her response to him. She had been most imprudent in her honesty and openness. The furthest thing from chaste.

But there was something about him that invited ease, that begged to be told her secrets. She should fear that knowledge. Instead, she secretly yearned for more, to be freed of the heavy burden that had suddenly claimed her these past days. Never had the virtue she harbored within her been this choking and oppressive. All her life, she had coexisted with her virtue, and now it seemed that she was struggling to break free of the only existence she had ever known.

“Smile,” Mary murmured as she reached for her teacup. “He's watching you.”

“Maybe it's you he's gazing at?” Chastity retorted, immediately sobering as her mother gently shook her
head, reprimanding them for whispering between themselves.

Both she and Mary shared the settee while Mama and Papa occupied the wingback chairs, which left Mama free to watch her daughters. Poor Prudence had been left to share the other settee with Lord Arawn, who possessed the same golden beauty as the man who introduced himself as Crom.

No title. No salutation. Just Crom.

The golden giant who had been riding his horse in Glastonbury now stood by the window, cutting a fine form that was outlined to his advantage by the sun. It seemed to suit him, Chastity thought as she carefully studied him. The sun appeared to be drawn to him, the way moonlight had been drawn to Thane when she had dreamed of him.

Darkness and light…strange that the darkness seemed to draw her. She should fear the black, and embrace the light. But there was something about the moon, and the earth, how it came alive amidst shadows and mist that beckoned her. There was beauty to be found in darkness.

“'Tis very lovely weather we're having,” her mother exclaimed as she poured more steaming tea into the fragile gilded Limoges cup.

“It is rather fine,” Lord Arawn acknowledged as he accepted the tea from her mother. “A ride in the park would be quite fitting for weather as fine as this.”

Chastity saw how Prue's fingers whitened around the handle of her delicate cup. Poor Prue. Chastity completely
sympathized with her. Since the gentlemen had arrived a half hour past, the conversation had been painstakingly cordial and…unbearable. Between herself and Prue, the air was thick, like the butter covering the currant scones that sat on the table before them. Idle conversation with the opposite sex was not one of their talents—for either of them.

Between the two of them they hadn't said more than a half-dozen words. Thank heavens for Mary. Her sister loved to make conversation, and even more so when the opposite sex was present.

“I do love riding in Hyde Park,” Mary prattled on. “The fashionable hour is filled with many delights, is it not?”

Lord Arawn nodded and glanced at Prue, who was struggling to swallow her tea. Crom, who was still standing by the window, smiled, making Mary's breath hitch yet again. Chastity reached for a thin slice of lemon loaf. It was rather unfortunate, for Crom did not make her breathless. She had found him rather lovely to gaze upon that morning in Glastonbury, but her memory of him had paled and faded the moment she had come across Thane, whose sensuality and air of danger she could not seem to forget.

“Do you care for riding, Lady Chastity?” Crom asked.

The small wedge of cake lodged in her throat and she smiled benignly as she tried to make it go down.

“Chastity is terrified of beasts,” Mary answered for her. “But myself, I am rather drawn to them.”

Chastity glared at her sister. Mary's voice had dropped to a seductive purr. The double entendre was obviously not lost on Crom.

“You must be careful with beasts, Lady Mary, for they have a habit of occasionally biting.”

Mary smiled artfully. “I am not afraid of the occasional little bite.”

“Mary,” Chastity hissed quietly to her sister as her father began to chat to the men of horses and conveyances. “You're being far too forward.”

“It's called artful flirtation, sister,” Mary replied. “You should learn it.”

“I have no wish to.”

Mary arched her brow in annoyance. “That beautiful specimen of a man is here to see you, and you're acting as though he were a leper.”

Chastity lowered her gaze to her hands, which were folded primly in her lap. “I am not as bold as you.”

“No, you're a frightened little mouse,” Mary teased.

“Trying to blend into the woodwork, but the truth is, he has not taken his gaze from you since he prowled into the salon.”

Chastity dared a glance at the man and held her breath when she discovered he was staring at her. He
was
very handsome.
But not as handsome as Thane,
the voice intruded.

“Perhaps, Lady Chastity, you would do me the honor of accompanying me on a ride in the park tomorrow afternoon?”

“Splendid idea,” Lord Arawn announced as he looked to Prue. “Why don't we make it a foursome.”

“Impossible,” her father said with a scowl. “We…have plans tomorrow afternoon.” As if seeking her support, their father glanced at her mother.

“It is true, I'm afraid. Lady Sefton's garden party.”

“The next afternoon, then. Your Grace?” Arawn directed his gaze to their father. “I trust you have no objection?”

Her father flushed and shifted his position uncomfortably on the chair as his gaze shifted between the two men. “None at all,” he murmured.

Suddenly Chastity felt as though she had been sold. There was something in her father's eyes that alerted Chastity to the fact that something monumental had been asked, and answered.

“Well, then, we should be on our way,” Crom announced, straightening away from the window. “Lady Chastity,” he murmured as he reached for her hand. “It has been a pleasure. I very much look forward to our ride.”

Bowing over her hand, he pressed her fingers lightly in his. He frowned, then met her gaze. “Your perfume…it is rather…exotic.”

Flushing, Chastity pulled her hand out from his grasp. “A signature scent,” she replied as she located the beautiful little atomizer that sat upon the mantel of the hearth. She had been in the midst of showing it to Prue and Mary when their guests arrived. So she had placed it on the mantel, safely out of reach.

“What a lovely surprise,” Crom murmured. “An innocent maid with a penchant for the more…amorous scents.” Chastity felt her face flame and her eyes grow wide. “Angel Water would become you much better,” he said, straightening from her. “For you are as heavenly to behold as a cherub.”

With a smile, Chastity accepted his compliment. It felt false, she realized, leaving her flat and slightly cold. Thane had not been artful in his speech. He had been bold, and…common, and it had inflamed her. Had made her desire him, despite her virtue, despite all the warnings that ran in her head.

Chastity followed both Lord Arawn and Crom with her gaze as they left the room. A footman reached for the handle and shut the door with a quiet click. Immediately, the entire room let out a collective sigh.

“Well, I think that went very well,” her mother said with a smile. “Don't you, Lennox?”

“Mmm,” her father mumbled as he stared at the highly glossed surface of his boot. “You are a better judge of these matters than I. I will defer to your superior knowledge.”

“Then I account this first meeting a success. Both Crom and his lordship were quite smitten with our girls.”

“Well, one of your girls wasn't quite as smitten,” Mary teased. “Chastity barely glanced at the man.”

“
I
am rather taken with Lord Arawn,” came a quiet voice from the other side of the room.

Prudence. Chastity shot her sister a secretive smile.
One that said they would talk later. But her mother, clearly beside herself with the idea of marrying off a daughter, plagued Prue with questions, until their father was forced to jump from his chair and prowl about the room.

“The truth is, m'dear,” he growled, “I'm not settled on the idea of those two courting my daughters.”

Her mother's alarmed gaze followed the purposeful path her father was making through the salon. “But you said they are of good families and income.”

“Yes, yes,” her father muttered, “I daren't say otherwise.”

“Papa, what do you mean?” Chastity asked. She was alarmed by her father's nervous behavior.

“Nothing,” he grumbled. Suddenly he smoothed his hand down his brocade waistcoat, his long fingers lingering over the pocket. “I have a meeting tonight, m'dear. Business, I'm afraid. We will discuss this matter later. When my head is clear.”

Rising from her chair, their mother nodded. “Of course. Come along, girls. Your father wishes to be alone, I think.”

 

Lennox watched his family saunter out of the salon before he allowed himself to collapse onto a chair.
Christ above
. What had he done? Making deals with both faery courts? Had he truly believed that he would get away with it?

Damn it, what was to be done? The Seelie wanted his daughters, and now it seemed so, too, did the Dark Fey.

Palming the pocket of his vest, Lennox felt the folded missive. He was to meet with the Dark Fey that evening at, of all damn places, the Nymph and the Satyr. It was time to pay the tithe, the summons said. But he couldn't. That particular prize had already been given to the Seelie.

But who posed the greatest threat? he wondered. The Dark Fey or the Seelie? That answer, he would find out tonight. And God help his daughters, he thought, if they were to become the concubines of the Unseelie Court.

Rising from the chair, he strolled to the window and watched as the two Seelie Fey rode their elegant mounts out of the courtyard. The air seemed to still crackle with the remnants of their magical presence. He had felt that energy before, when the queen had come upon him that fateful night in the nursery.

Damn it, what was he to do? He was to meet with the queen in the morning. He knew what she would say. What she would want from him. And he knew the consequences of denying her. His clandestine transaction with her had miraculously been kept a secret. Robert's slow recovery from his deformity had been met with scientific marvel, not skepticism or suspicion. His wife had been so overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude that she had not asked how such a miracle came to be. No one knew. Only he and the faery queen.

But if his secret was found out, it would be bloody disastrous. He would lose everything. His position in society, his fortune, his friends. And possibly even his wife. Not to mention his son, whose handsome face and
fine body would be reduced to a withered cripple. And his daughters…he wasn't man enough at the moment to think of them. He'd been selfish in his desires and now his girls would pay the price.

Contemplating all he had to lose, Lennox knew instinctively who the greatest threat was. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled the missive free and tore it up.

He would ignore it, he decided. Let the Unseelie come to him if they wanted their tithe so badly.

 

The Unseelie were here. Crom had smelled them, the spicy notes of male Unseelie flesh. It had covered Chastity's wrist. As he looked into her eyes, he'd seen nothing but wariness. She didn't know of the Dark Fey, or realize that she had come into contact with one—close contact, he reminded himself.

“You are thinking?” Arawn said as he reached for the reins of his mount. “Your frown tells me that you don't like something.”

Crom swiftly mounted his stallion. “Did you sense something in the house?”

“No, why?”

“I smelled the Dark Fey.”

“Impossible, you warded the house yourself. There is no possible way that our enemies could have broken through your protection spells.”

“Nevertheless, I sensed their presence. Ensure you keep your eyes open,” he commanded the footman, who was a Seelie from his court. “And keep His Grace's daughters in your sight. I don't like this. The Unseelie are more
powerful than we thought. Our magic might very well be an even match.”

“If that is the case, then we must move swiftly.”

“Indeed.” Nudging his horse forward, Crom cantered down the drive. “I will not have my plans to rule the Seelie Court thwarted by my twin and his cursed brethren.”