by Dayna Quince
“Why don’t we call it a truce?”
“No. I…I intentionally broke into your trunk. I had no business doing that. I had no reason to go to the tower at all other than… I tend to be curious.”
“There is nothing wrong with curiosity.”
“But there is with picking locks. I assure you I’m not a thief.”
He chuckled. “I believe you.”
“I don’t have a good enough excuse for betraying your privacy.”
“I betrayed you in return. We can choose to forgive and forget.”
“I…I didn’t destroy the drawings. I couldn’t.”
He stilled. They still lived? “I know they upset you.”
“They shocked me. I’ve never seen myself like that.”
He swallowed, heat washing over his skin. He was now overly warm and wished for the cooler coastal breeze. But he absorbed what she said. She was truly an innocent in every regard. Her experience with men like him or her own desire was probably close to none.
“I can understand that. I’m sorry I shocked you.”
She chewed her lip. “I just… Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you draw me like that?”
Now it was his turn to blush. “It’s how I see you.”
He heard her intake of breath.
“I spent a great deal of time thinking about you after we met at the last house party,” he confessed. He didn’t want her to think he was just some lascivious rake, who drew lewd pictures of any woman he met.
She touched a hand to her forehead and set it down between them. “You did?”
He set his near hers, confident it wouldn’t be seen between them from the others. “After the confrontation yesterday, I think we should be honest. I desire you, but I cannot give you what you deserve. My only other recourse was to paint a portrait of you and keep it for myself.”
She stiffened, lifting her hand away.
“I’ve shocked you again.”
She scoffed. “You want to paint my portrait? That’s all?”
“What else did you expect?”
Marriage, of course.
She was a young woman determined to make the best match possible. Here he was confessing his infatuation, and she was… probably going to be angry with him again.
He cursed under his breath.
She folded her arms. “So what am I to do with this knowledge?”
“Well, I didn’t think anything needed to be done, per se.”
She grabbed her napkin and balled it up, throwing it on her plate. She pushed to her feet and marched off, not in the direction of the others, but through a narrow path into the woods.
Chapter 13
Luc cursed, louder this time, and jumped to his feet to follow her.
“Jeanie,” he called out.
She stopped and spun to face him. “I did not give you permission to use my name.”
“I’m sorry. It slipped out.”
“I didn’t give you permission to draw me before, but you did it anyway and now… It’s like I have no say in any of this. I may be a novice here, but I’m certain that when a man tells a woman he desires her, it’s for a great deal more than a painting.”
“I believe I already told you there can’t be anything more than a painting.”
“Why not?”
“There is no simple explanation.”
“I need to marry, you need to marry. But you’ve decided I’m not good enough, is that it?”
“Please don’t say that.”
“I’m not of equal social standing?”
“’Tis more than that. I have to marry an heiress.”
She folded her arms. “Why? Why does a wealthy man need more wealth?”
He grit his teeth, shame climbing his neck. “I’m broke. I can’t send my brother to Harrow or fund a season for my sister.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You’re…” She swallowed, blinking rapidly. “I see.”
He stepped closer to her. “I don’t think you do.”
“No, if there is anything I understand, it’s the needs and cost of a family.” And hers was still growing.
How could he explain how he felt? His experience with women was extensive but not in this arena. He was a careful rake, choosing women who wouldn’t expect long attachments, who wouldn’t care to see beyond the mask he wore. But she’d had a glimpse and yet she’d wanted more.
He wanted more too.
But they couldn’t have it.
He was hardly the savior she needed. He couldn’t afford his own family, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to support hers.
“If things were different, if my father hadn’t gambled away every last farthing and left a mountain of debt for me to repay, I—”
He’d what? Marry her? Spend the rest of his days loving her?
Oh, God.
He would. That was exactly what he wanted to do. His throat tightened.
“Don’t say any more, please.”
Her tone cut him to the quick. A rage he hadn’t known still existed rose within him, and he cursed the viscount all over again. He’d sought to leave Luc desperate. He couldn’t disinherit him. By law, Luc was legitimate, but he could leave him with a title worth almost nothing. He hadn’t thought beyond his own hatred. He unwittingly hindered his own blood children, Charlie and Daphne. All in the effort to hurt him for being sired by another.
But Luc was certain the viscount hadn’t thought he’d strike him this way, denying Luc a chance at happiness with a wife who wanted him for more than his money and title. A wife who accepted him and the side he’d been ashamed of.
A wife who would love him.
He clenched his fists, fighting a war of bitterness and raw anger.
“Does Roderick know?” she asked.
“No one knows. Not even my brother and sister.”
She sniffed, and in the silence of the wood, the sound tore through his chest like a bullet.
“Please don’t cry.” He couldn’t bear it. He was used to being hurt by the viscount, but now he wasn’t the only victim.
“I thought… I was so stupid. To think that—to hope.”
He closed the distance between them, unable to watch her be alone in her sadness.
“Tell me,” he begged.
“I thought you were a dream come true.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ball. And when you returned…. Oh, I’m such an idiot. Nothing so good could happen to a Marsden.”
He hugged her, pressing a kiss to a forehead. He closed his eyes. A torrent of want and need crashed through him as he breathed her in, the gentle scent of her soap.
He’d felt the same. It was as though a perfect future had been dangled before him, only to be swiped away.
From the grave.
“I just wanted…” She sucked in a breath.
“What?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It’s not fair. How do I stop feeling this way?” Her hands fisted in his coat.
“Feeling what way?” Was she as drugged as he was, her insides melting into a storm of passion?
Love tearing a hole the size of England?
“It’s like one moment I can’t breathe, and the next I’m flying. I don’t even understand it. For all my life, I’ve been one thing. The sister who does the sewing, the sister who just…goes along with what I’m told. But then I met you, and it was as though the life I had dreamed of could be real. This party happened and you came and I thought… Maybe it was meant to be. Maybe I’d prayed hard enough, wished on enough shooting stars that you would be my dream come true.
A heavy feeling in his chest crushed his lungs. He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t give her what she wanted. He couldn’t explain why they’d come to care so much for each other off so little.
Was that what love did? No reasons, no explanations, just undeniable existence? Was it so consuming and confusing one didn’t know how to unders
tand it even when it was happening to you?
He didn’t know anything about love, but he was an expert in passion, in lust. He couldn’t make her dream come true, but he could ease some of her aching desire. He took her in his arms, molding her body to his, her short gasp filling his ears as she met his gaze, her cheeks flagged with color, but in her eyes he could see her arousal, the shimmering need. He kissed her and she arched into him.
Whatever this was, it was consuming them both. A fire burning out of control, chaotic and hungry. Her portrait would never be enough to keep him abated.
His passion thrashed him senseless. Before he knew it, he had deepened the kiss, angling his head and using the pressure of his lips to drive her to open her mouth. Then he claimed the sweet heavenly cavern, teaching her to kiss intimately, with slow strokes of his tongue, light sweeps until he’d explored her fully, and she was confident in returning the caresses.
His hands clutched her skirts, lifting them from one side. He thanked the heavens he’d taken his gloves off earlier. When he touched her thigh, his head nearly exploded. He was more aroused than he ever remembered being, even as a randy green boy who didn’t yet understand his body.
But he was much older now, and he could control his body. It was hers that needed release. He could feel it in the steel of her spine, the vibration of her limbs as she shook in his arms, her kisses frantic, her hands fumbling as she held on to his shoulders. This was her first taste of desire and he was going to make it as sweet as possible for her.
This was all he could give her, not his name, not his money, but he was skilled with his hands. He could pleasure her, make her feel as beautiful, as worshiped as Aphrodite herself.
He hooked her knee up to his hip, wrapping his arm around it to hold it there, and his hand skated under her thigh, her skin petal soft. He slowed as he reached her inner leg, where her thigh curved into her derriere, her muscles flickering under his hand as she broke the kiss and tucked her face into his shoulder.
He slowly danced his fingers to her core, the wet slick heat burning him, making him weak with need.
She was made for passion, for him.
“Tell me to stop and I will,” he said. He stroked her folds, and her hips bucked.
She exhaled, but it was half sigh, half moan. He touched her sensitive hood, the half-buried pearl pinched between his fingers. Her thigh muscles tightened around his hip.
“I can make your body sing with pleasure. It’s all I can give you, Jeanie. Do you want me to?
She wiggled her head.
He froze. “No?”
“Yes,” she said, turning and meeting his gaze, her kiss-swollen lips brushing his jaw.
He groaned. He massaged her delicate nerves again and she shivered.
“You want this?”
She swallowed. “I want you. Whatever I can have of you.”
“Luc, my name is Luc, say it.”
“Luc,” she said, so soft and low, like a moan of ecstasy.
He closed his eyes, sealing his mouth over hers, his tongue thrusting inside, his fingers searching for the entrance to her body. Her words cut him deep, all his pain and need filling in the wounds, healing them with her words trapped inside, like a bullet that couldn’t be removed.
For years to come he’d remember her words, the shaky and desperate need in her voice. He heard the words before, but coming from her, they held new meaning. They contained a lifetime of desire.
But they didn’t have a lifetime. They only had right now.
He lifted her higher, his erection pressing against her mons while his fingers explored the entrance of her body, gently pushing deeper and deeper until he could sheath one finger and then two. Her tight passage clamped around his fingers as her hips rocked into the hard ridge of his arousal.
He prayed he could hold back his own release and not ruin his pants. It was one of the cardinal rules of an experienced rake. But the rules didn’t apply here because nothing about this situation met any of his criteria. She was an innocent, a woman needing to get married, and he couldn’t marry her. He was breaking all his rules to be with her, and yet he couldn’t stop himself.
He needed her, every sigh, every pant, every soft moan that caught in her throat. These would have to sustain him.
She broke away, panting into his neck, her body as tight as a bow string. She was close, he could feel it, her nectar coating his hand. He locked her hips against him, and he thrust against her, his fingers filling her while in his mind he imagined his manhood sinking deep.
She cried out softly, her nails digging into his neck, her legs shaking as her sheath clamped around his fingers, and he could feel her release overcome her. He bit the inside of his lip to keep his own from claiming him and tasted blood.
In the next moment, she went limp, giving him all of her weight. He released her leg, fixing her skirts and cleaning his hand with his handkerchief, all behind her back while he held her and let her rest her cheek on his chest.
Then he hugged her tightly, his own body still clamoring for relief, but warmth filled him, the kind of quiet joy he’d never felt before.
She lifted her head and looked around.
“Oh my, we’ve been gone for some time.”
“Probably not as long as we think but we should return.”
She chewed her lip. He ran his thumb over the plump curve.
“You do that a lot, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Bit your lip. Mostly the corner. Right here.” He touched it.
“I do?”
“Have you never noticed?”
Someone cleared his throat.
Chapter 14
Luc and Jeanie froze. But he did not back away from her, putting distance between them like two guilty people. His heart hammered, but he turned to face whoever had come upon them.
Lord Selhorst and Miss Josette stood by a tree, arms folded in an identical fashion. Two nannies who’d caught their charges stealing treats from the kitchen.
“Jeanie come with me,” Josie said.
Jeanie hesitated, looking to him for direction.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have taken better care of you.”
“We’ve only just come upon you,” Lord Selhorst said. “Perhaps we didn’t see what we thought we saw, and this needn’t turn into a to-do.”
Josie glared at him. “Protecting your own, I see?”
“He was touching her lip, ’tis all,” Selhorst argued.
Luc and Jeanie shared a startled glance.
Was that all they saw?
The two couples moved closer together.
“Are you going to try to convince me she had a spot of jam and he was only assisting her?” Josie argued. “They were holding each other in a romantic fashion.”
“You’ve no experience with romance,” Selhorst countered.
“Enough. Josie, you and I will talk privately,” Jeanie said. “I happen to agree with Lord Selhorst. There is nothing happening that needs to be discussed beyond the four of us.”
Luc was surprised by her domineering tone.
She looked to him. “Don’t you agree?”
“If you say so.”
She held his gaze. “I can convince Josie to be quiet.”
“I am inclined to discretion myself,” Lord Selhorst said.
Luc nodded.
“Good. Then please let me speak with my sister privately.”
The two gentlemen stepped away, Selhorst tugging Luc behind a tree.
“I hear wedding bells in your future,” Selhorst grinned.
“I can’t marry her. She knows that.”
His grin fell. “Then what the bloody hell are you doing standing alone in a wood embracing her? Good God. You’ve never been this sloppy. There is literally most of her family on the other side of that tree line. And Weirick. Have you forgotten about Weirick? Roderick you might be able to best, since he is ill in bed, but Weirick? I’ll toast you at your funeral. What were you th
inking?”
“I wasn’t thinking. But she and I have an accord.”
“You can’t have an affair with an innocent. The only name for it is anticipating your wedding vows.”
“We’re not having an affair.”
“Then what do you call that back there?”
“I…I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You have to marry her.”
“I can’t,” Luc ground out. He could reason telling Jeanie his secret shame but no one else. No one need know he was broke. The news would only hinder his sister’s chances for a good match and his. He’d be labeled a fortune hunter if word spread that the Luckfeld fortune was gone.
“Weirick will have your head, and unlike a guillotine, he doesn’t need a sharp blade. He’ll just rip it off.”
“I know,” Luc growled.
“Then what are you doing?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Christ, man, you sound like you’re in love.”
A cold sweat broke out over his forehead and neck. “I don’t have that luxury. Just keep this to yourself. I haven’t compromised her.”
“Some would say you have.”
“You? What are your standards? You spend quite a bit of time alone in the library with her sister, don’t you?”
He swallowed. “That’s different.”
“How so?”
“The door is always open. And Josie… She’s no fool.”
“Nor is Jeanie. I care for her, but I haven’t taken her innocence.”
“You’re not telling me something. Why can’t you marry her?”
“It’s none of your bloody business. If you have any honor, you won’t speak to anyone about what you saw.”
“Of course not. But I will hold you accountable to your honor as well.”
Luc nodded, his blood running cold. He’d never been caught before. He was not thinking clearly, not when it came to Jeanie. He’d never been this out of control with a woman.
Chapter 15
“Jeanie, what are you doing?” Josie whispered as they stepped away. “That man is a rake. You cannot be alone with him. He looked as though he was about to kiss you!”
