by Lisa Kleypas
Lily tried to feel nothing, to ignore the devastating pleasure that ignited wherever his hands touched. But her senses ached for another draught of the rapture he had given her last night. Remembering the feel of his hard body over hers, she began to tremble with a desire she couldn’t suppress. She flushed with shame. “What have you done to me?” she whispered unsteadily.
His hands slid over her skin, smearing the paint in paths of heat and color. Slowly his color-stained fingertips traced the round swell of her breast, and etched a bluish green line across her flat stomach. Lily put her hands against his chest, tensing slightly as if to push him away. But nothing would stop him from touching her, from working a pattern over her body like some erotic artist engrossed in a sensuous painting. His palm covered the serpent’s head at her shoulder and smudged it down her side in a vibrant emerald trail.
Making a last desperate attempt to escape, she tried to turn away, but the solid pressure of his body crowded closer, closer, and his hot, hungering mouth found hers. Urgently his hands clamped over her bare buttocks, lifting her to him, and he groaned against her soft mouth. The force of his desire burned out reason and resolution…she had no hold on her own self-restraint.
Shivering with helpless excitement, Lily lifted her arms to his broad shoulders, her fingers kneading and flexing into his coat. The feel of her naked body crushed against the linen and velvet smoothness of his clothes was new and startling. Roughly he tore his mouth away from hers and pressed his lips to the tops of her shoulders in biting kisses. She turned her face into his golden hair, her breath flowing against his ear. His tongue slid over her skin and found her pulse, lingering in the hollow of her throat with a tickling stroke.
Alex drew his head back, his gray eyes filled with an engrossed expression. She felt his fingers between their bodies, touching between her thighs, tugging at his breeches, until the hard, silken heat of him throbbed against her. With an eager whimper she pushed against the tantalizing pressure, craving him inside her. His hands returned to her buttocks, and with easy strength he lifted her against the wall. Lily made an anxious sound, her hands fluttering against his shoulders.
He spoke huskily, telling her what to do, his voice laced with tender violence. “Don’t be afraid…put your legs around me…that’s right.” She felt a heavy, invading pressure, her body stretching to accommodate his upward thrust. She drew in a sharp breath and clung to him, her legs locking around his waist while his powerful arms supported her.
Alex buried his face in her throat as he moved within her. She was making sobbing noises of pleasure…he felt the vibrations against his lips. Pushing steadily into her softness. Her lithe body arched, while her hands found the back of his neck and gripped hard. Understanding the silent message, he let her weight settle deeper on him, and he moved one hand to the triangle between her thighs. His fingertips searched gently through the soft curls. “As long as it takes,” he muttered against her flushed skin, increasing the pace of his thrusts. “I won’t stop, not until you come for me. I won’t stop.”
She gave a sharp cry, her body tightening around him, shuddering. Alex let himself go immediately, holding his breath as his body was shaken by powerful spasms of release. He let out a ragged sigh and pressed his forehead to hers. They rested against each other, their breath flowing together, their clenched muscles relaxing. Carefully Alex lowered Lily until her toes touched the floor. He kissed her with his hand at the nape of her neck, holding her steady. His mouth was hot and sweet, savoring the aftertaste of pleasure.
He let go of her and refastened his breeches. Lily remained propped against the wall. Slowly she brought her arms around herself, partially shielding her body from his gaze. She had the dazed expression of someone who had just endured some terrible calamity. Turning back to her, Alex frowned. “Lily…” Wanting to comfort her, he lifted his hand to her face, but she flinched away from his paint-stained ringers. With a wry smile, he regarded his colorful hand. “Does it wash off,” he asked gravely, “or should I begin thinking of explanations?”
Lily glanced down at the rainbow of hues covering her smooth body. “I don’t know.” She couldn’t seem to sort through her jumbled thoughts. Her heart was still clattering, as if she had dosed herself with an exhilarating, nerve-shattering drug. She felt crazy and unsteady, and ready to cry. “I’m going home,” she said. “If you have a shirt I could wear, a cloak—”
“No,” he said quietly.
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. I’m going home.”
“Not when you look like that. No, I don’t mean the paint, I mean the look on your face. As if you’re going to do something drastic.”
“I always do something drastic,” she said coolly. “My life has been an unending series of predicaments, my lord, ever since I was a child. I’ve survived them all without your interference, and I’ll continue to do so.”
Alex put his hands on her body again, ignoring her reluctant protest. He toyed with her navel, the points of her hipbones, fondling her as if he were holding a priceless piece of sculpture. Lily’s composure—what there was of it—disappeared at his touch. Awkwardly she began to push his hands away, but her attention was distracted as he spoke calmly. “Is money the only problem?”
“I don’t want money from you,” she said, catching her breath as his fingers brushed the edge of the paint-gilded curls at the top of her thighs.
“Would five thousand be sufficient, or do you need more?”
“Why don’t you tell me precisely what obligations would come with it?” She glared at him and nodded, “Or is this by chance a gift with no strings attached?”
He held her gaze inflexibly. “There are strings.”
Lily laughed mirthlessly. “At least you’re honest.”
“More honest than you.”
“I don’t lie.”
“No, you just withhold the truth.”
She lowered her eyes, aware of the havoc his gentle stroking was causing within her. “That seems to be the only damned thing I’ve withheld from you,” she muttered, and her ears burned at the sound of his soft laughter.
Linking his fingers around her fragile wrist, he pulled her away from the wall and across the bedroom. Lily sputtered in indignation as she stumbled after him. “I haven’t agreed to anything!”
“I know you haven’t. We’re going to continue our conversation in the bath.”
“If you think I’ll allow you to watch me bathe—”
He stopped suddenly and spun around, sliding an arm around her and kissing her hard. She twitched in surprise, but he held her snug and compact against him, one hand clamped around her wrist so firmly that she could feel her pulse throbbing against the cinch of his fingers. He lifted his head and she remained against him, blinking in bewilderment. With a quick grin, he continued to pull her behind him until they reached the bathing room. Alex let go of her and went to the tub, adjusting the gold spigots until the pipes shuddered behind the wall. Hot and cold water came forth in tumbling streams.
Standing with her arms around herself, Lily glanced at her surroundings in wonder. It was positively decadent, outfitted with a marble fireplace and lined with white tiles painted and glazed with brilliant colors. Having seen their like before in Florence, she recognized them as rare Italian tiles more than two centuries old. The built-in tub was the largest she had ever seen, able to accommodate two.
Alex smiled sardonically as he saw her modest posture. He pried her arm away from her breasts. “After parading through Craven’s in nothing more than a few scarves sewn together—”
“It wasn’t as revealing as it seemed. My wig hid a great deal.”
“Not enough.” Forcibly he guided her into the tub. With the dignity of an offended cat, Lily sat down in the rising water. Alex began to strip off his ruined clothes. “There’ll be no more of that,” he said brusquely, sliding her a wary glance.
At first Lily thought he meant her sullen attitude, but then she realized he was referri
ng to her display at Craven’s. The comment annoyed her. She should have expected he would begin issuing commands. She had never accepted anyone’s dictates, not even her parents’. “I’ll parade stark naked up and down Fleet Street if I want to.”
He gave her a derisive glance but didn’t reply. Lily reached for one of the cakes of soap piled in a glass bowl on the floor. Industriously she ran the slick soap over her arms and chest and splashed water over her skin. The steam and heat gathering in the room began to relax her, and unconsciously she gave a long sigh. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alex approach the side of the tub. Realizing he was naked, she made a move to leave the warm water. “No,” she said apprehensively. “I don’t want you to share my bath. I-I’ve had enough of your pawing for one night.”
“Sit down.” Clamping his large hand on her shoulder, he pushed her back into the tub. “Ten minutes ago you were quite enamored of my pawing.”
Her spine stiffened as she felt him step into the water behind her. He sat down, crooking one long leg and stretching the other out beside her. There was a soft exhalation of comfort, and then his arm reached around her, extricating the soap from her hand. Lily stared at his feet and felt the brush of his bent knee against the side of her breast. His soapy hands moved over her body. Mutely she watched as he washed the paint from her breasts, the color dissolving into grayish foam.
Alex sluiced water over Lily’s shoulders, rinsing until her skin was pale and shimmering. He pulled her closer between his thighs, wordlessly urging her back until her weight was settled against the sodden mat of hair on his chest. He rubbed the soap between his fingers and slid them down her body in a slippery trail, until they converged between her thighs in a slick tangle.
It was quiet in the bathing room. There was only the soft swish of water and the sound of their breathing bouncing gently from the tiles. Lily couldn’t help surrendering to the soothing warmth of the bath. She felt the tension leave her spine. Half-closing her eyes, she rested her head on his shoulder while his hands wandered smoothly over her. His face turned, and his lips swept into the wet curve of her neck, the frail edge of her jaw. She leaned more heavily on him and drew in a deep breath of steamy air. Unbidden, her hand crept to his thigh, her fingers flexing into the hard muscle. Underneath the water the rough hair on his body had become soft and velvety.
At the touch of her hand, Alex went still. There was no movement except for the rise and fall of his chest beneath her. Lily squeezed her eyes closed, waiting for the moment when he would push her away and say the interlude was over. But he reached for the soap once more, lathering his hands to a foamy slickness. She felt the lambent touch of his fingers on her breasts, circling like dancing butterflies, smoothing over the tiny, hardening tips. Lifting herself higher into the teasing caress, she gave a pleasured murmur.
His hands cupped water over her, pouring liquid warmth on her breasts, leaving her nipples taut and rosy. There was another ritual with the soap as he moved it back and forth between his palms, and then he set it aside. His lubricated palms glided in circles on her stomach, pausing as one fingertip dipped curiously into the neat hollow of her navel. Lily began to breathe in irregular gasps, feeling as if she were floating in a pool of fire. Her body tensed in yearning. Relentlessly his legs hooked over her ankles and eased them wider. Sliding his hand lower, he stroked the tense line of her abdomen…and lower still…and his fingers trailed through the thatch of sodden curls, saturating them with white foam. Lily started and clutched his wrist, trying to pull him away. “I think you should stop,” she said breathlessly, and wet her lips. “I think—”
“Why don’t you try not thinking?” he whispered against her ear, sliding his middle finger deep inside her. The sweetness of his touch spread through her, quickly condensing into heavy, aching urgency. His supple stroke went deeper, and her body tightened to draw in more of the tantalizing pressure. As the water sloshed rhythmically in the tub, she realized what was happening, and she said his name weakly. He murmured to her, telling her to forget everything, to concentrate only on this…and he kept her there, cradled by the water and his body, never ceasing the exquisite manipulation, drawing pleasure from her as if he could drink it in with his fingertips. Patiently he nudged her over the edge of feeling into a climax of exquisite, infinite relief. Her muffled cry echoed from the tiles, while her glistening body arched against his restraining arms. When the pleasure ebbed, he turned her until she was draped over him, and his mouth took hers in a drugging kiss.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Wilhemina Lawson,” he said huskily, holding her head in his wet hands. His gray eyes stared into her dark, astonished ones. “And you’re going to stay the night with me.”
Had she the advantage of clothes, weapons, or even a spark of energy, Lily might have found a way to leave. But she allowed him to dry her with a thick, soft towel, and carry her to a bedroom with a luminous ceiling that looked like sky and clouds. Alex extinguished the lamps and pulled her into bed beside him. They both knew that she would take the five thousand from him, and discuss the terms of the arrangement tomorrow. The tacit agreement gave Lily a trapped, sordid feeling. The exchange of money for the use of her body could not be considered anything other than what it was. But it also brought a certain measure of peace. She would pay Giuseppe and rehire the detective to find her daughter. Perhaps the nightmare of the past two years would be over soon.
His arm curved around her, pulling her against his body. It wasn’t long before his breath rifled through her hair in the slow cadence of sleep. But tired as she was, Lily found it difficult to sleep. She had the troubled awareness that in spite of her efforts to avoid this, her life had turned down a path she had never wanted to travel…and there was no going back.
Lily was profoundly puzzled by the man sleeping beside her. She had accused him of brutality, but in spite of his many opportunities to hurt her, he had treated her with gentleness. In fact, he had deliberately sought to give her pleasure. She had thought of him as a coldhearted man, but the truth was that he possessed unusual depth of feeling. Others might consider him as having a restrained and moderate nature, but Lily knew that she alone could provoke him into an awe-inspiring temper. Privately she admitted that she was glad of it, that something in her found satisfaction in affecting him so deeply. He’d been furious that so many men had seen her in the Eve costume. The thought brought a slight smile to her face. The smile disappeared as she reflected that it wasn’t like her to take pleasure in a man’s possessiveness. Perturbed, she tried to move away, but he snuggled closer with a sleepy grunt and threw an arm over her. Wryly she settled back against him and closed her eyes, relaxing into the sheltering warmth of his body.
Alex was awakened by the annoying twitch and kick of Lily’s legs. Grumbling, he sat up in the darkness, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the matter?” he muttered, yawning deeply. His head whipped around as he heard a low, keening cry beside him. “Lily? Dammit, what…” He bent over her, while she writhed against the pillow. Her body twisted, her small fists knotting around handfuls of the bedclothes. Incoherent words fell from her lips in between her agitated gasps.
“Lily.” Tenderly he swept the hair back from her forehead. “Shhh. You’re dreaming. It’s just a nightmare.”
“No—”
“Wake up, sweetheart.” He would have continued to speak to her, but then he heard the name she had whispered during her sleepwalking at Raiford Park. He’d thought it was Nick, but her voice was more distinct now. It dawned on him that she was repeating a woman’s name.
“Nicole…no…no…” She wept with dry sobs, her hands reaching out blindly, twitching against the hard muscle of his chest. She was shaking with fear, or perhaps misery.
Alex stared down at her with a mixture of compassion and wild curiosity. Nicole. He’d never heard the name from any of the Lawsons. It had to be part of Lily’s mysterious past. Stroking her hair, he lowered his lips to her forehead. “Lily, wake up. Easy. You’re all right.”<
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She jerked against him, her breath stopping as if someone had thrown her to the ground. Alex gathered her close, wrapping her in his arms. Suddenly she burst into tears. Whatever he had expected, it was not this, the pitiful sobbing that expressed a grief too deep to put into words. He froze in amazement. “Lily.” He tried to soothe her, running his hands over her trembling body. Her weeping was oddly chilling. He’d never heard such a broken, unearthly sound. He would give anything, promise the sun and moon, anything to make her stop. “Lily,” he repeated desperately. “For God’s sake, don’t cry like that.”
It was a long time before she quieted, nuzzling her wet face against his chest. Alex wanted to talk then, wring explanations from her. But she gave an exhausted sigh and fell asleep with unnatural suddenness, as if the tears had drained every last bit of strength. Dumbfounded, he stared down at the bundle in his arms. “Who is Nicole?” he whispered, though he knew she couldn’t hear. “What did she do to you?”
Her small head rested heavily in the crook of his arm. Stroking her dark hair, he felt his own tension begin to recede. But it was replaced by something far more disturbing. He was amazed by the protectiveness he felt. He wanted to take care of her, this spirited woman who had made it clear that she didn’t want or need anyone’s help. He knew she couldn’t be trusted with his heart, but somewhere along the way he had already given it to her. She had turned his life upside down. She had changed everything.
He loved her. The simple truth was astonishing, but undeniable. Fervently he pressed his lips into her hair, his body rife with uncontained, anxious joy. He wanted her bound to him with words and promises, with everything he had that might hold her. In time she might come to care for him—it was a risk worth taking. It would be wise to find out more about her, delve into her past until she was less of an enigma. But he wasn’t wise, he was in love, and he wanted her as she was. He’d been careful and responsible all his life. For once he would cast aside logic, and do as his heart prompted.
