Heart’s Temptation Books 1–3

by Scott, Scarlett

  Cleo nearly jumped out of her skin when Thornton slipped back inside her chamber. She’d been pacing since he left in search of his sister, wringing her hands and feeling generally useless. Of course she felt awful to be causing rifts in his family. Already, she suspected that he had taken his mother to task in her name and now he’d destroyed whatever fragile bond that existed between him and Bella. The reality of what he must give up for her, the hopelessness of their future together, was bad enough without now being forced to acknowledge she was hurting his relationship with his family. She wasn’t altogether certain she could bear it.

  When her door clicked open, she turned to find Thornton striding inside, hair still askew, yet impossibly handsome in his irrefutable way. She knew from the hard expression on his face that it had not gone well with Bella. Her heart ached for him.

  Cleo crossed the distance between them and went into his arms. He pressed her close to his chest and she heard the heavy beating of his heart against her ear. He smelled of his own delicious scent, comforting and enticing. “It did not go as it should have done with Bella,” she guessed.

  Thornton sighed. “She has grown quite intractable. It’s impossible to make her understand. I’m sorry for her ill treatment of you. It shouldn’t have become so damned ugly.”

  She clung to him, savoring his strength. “It will be worse if we continue as we are.”

  “If?” He withdrew and gazed down at her, his expression troubled. “What is this?”

  “It is only that I don’t wish to be the cause of unhappiness in your life.” Her voice broke on the last.

  “Jesus, Cleo, you are my happiness. Can you not see that as plainly as I stand here before you?”

  His beloved face had grown taut. His eyes bored into hers, searching, needing to see a response that matched his own heart. She knew that it was there, that her love for him shone on her face. She could no longer hide it from him or anyone else.

  “As you are my happiness,” she told him, voice soft. “It is only for that reason that I don’t wish to make you miserable.”

  “You can only make me miserable by denying me.” His mouth descended on hers in a fiercely passionate kiss.

  She caught his shoulders, leaning into his solid embrace. Their breaths and tongues tangled together in a sweet dance. His hands were on her derriere beneath the tournure of her dress, cupping and demanding.

  “I want you now,” he whispered. “Do you want me?”

  Although she knew she should have been shocked by his plain speaking, she could not deny she found it arousing. Her blood coursed through her veins in hot, heady pulses. She was indeed hungry for him.

  “Always,” she returned, taking his lower lip between her teeth and giving it a savagely playful pull.

  Thornton groaned. “I’m going to take you in a bed this time, darling. I never should have presumed to take you against a bloody bookshelf the last time. It was unconscionable of me.”

  She caressed his aristocratic cheekbone. “My love, nothing was ever better than that moment we had in the library. I shall remember it always.” She kissed him again and then looked up at him with a wicked smile curving her lips. “But even so, I should like nothing better than to make another attempt in the lovely bed just behind me.”

  Laughing with wicked delight, he pushed them slowly backward together, toward the bed. They kissed again, then again, then again, until he finally caught her up in his arms and tossed her onto the mattress. Cleo landed with a giggle that evaporated when Thornton joined her.

  He lay beside her, his large body pressed to the length of hers and propped his head with his left hand. He splayed his right hand above her madly beating heart. Smiling, she stilled, her eyes steady on his.

  “I dreamt of this,” he began, his voice hoarse. “All those years ago, I dreamt of a moment when I would join you in a real bed, when you would be truly mine. It guts me that you belong to him in the eyes of the law. I would do anything to make it otherwise.”

  Tears stung her eyes at his confession. She well knew what the revelation cost a man like him and knew too that she wished even more fervently than him that she was not bound to another. “I am truly yours in every conceivable way. I love you, Alex. Feel it.”

  She clasped her hand over his, pressing it to her chest as if she could transfer all the emotions trapped within her through his skin. She wanted him to know how it was for her, how it would always be. Even if they had nothing else together beyond their time at Wilton House, she would have him know the absolute truth. She’d been foolish enough not to in her youth and she didn’t care to repeat such folly for pride’s stupid sake.

  His palm was heavy on her heart. He lowered his head and placed an ardent kiss upon her hand. She ran her fingers through his thick black hair, smoothing it back into place in tender strokes. “I love you,” she said again for good measure. “I loved you all those years ago. I wish I had not run from you. I wish I had stayed and believed—”

  “It was my fault,” he murmured against her skin. “I should never have abandoned you. If I could do those years over, I would.”

  Her fingers stopped, her heart tripping with a slight start of uncertainty. Her words had not yet been returned. “Did you love me?”

  Thornton’s head rose and his clear gaze fastened on her. He turned her hand upside down so that their fingers clasped. “I did then and I do now. I have never stopped.” He dropped a kiss on the hollow of her throat. “I have never stopped.”

  His fingers tightened as he kissed a path up her neck.

  “Tell me,” she demanded, breathless.

  He paused with his mouth hovering over hers, his eyes giving her the truest glimpse she’d ever gained of the inner man. “I love you, Cleo,” he said in a firm, strong voice, so there could be no doubt later. “I love you now as ever, my darling.”

  “Then make me yours again.”

  “To be perfectly honest, ever since I spotted you in this dashing silver affair, I’ve been wanting to have my wicked way with you,” he confessed on a grin that brought out his charming dimple and thrilled her to her toes.

  She kissed him because she couldn’t help herself and then leaned back to give him a saucy look of her own. “Help me off with it?”

  “With pleasure.”

  Together, they peeled away the layers of her gown, unpinning the careful work Bridget had made that afternoon of the jet beads and the proper tucks to reveal her silver underskirt. The gown was gone in a minute. Beneath it, she had worn only stockings, a silk chemise and a naughty black corset she’d purchased on a whim but never worn. She’d anticipated this moment, it was true.

  Thornton’s expression gratified her. His smoldering eyes lit upon her breasts struggling to escape from the lacy corset. She was certain she looked a fair impersonation of a trollop. And she was equally certain that he approved. She knew her proper marquis had a dark undertone.

  “Minx,” he said, voice thick. “You’ve worn this for me, haven’t you?”

  “Absolutely. And I haven’t any drawers.”

  To check her assertion, he skimmed a hot hand past her stockings and garters, up over her thigh to the juncture of her limbs. His nimble fingers met with moist, hungry flesh.

  “Do you like it?” she asked in her most innocent tone.

  He sent her an intense look. “Sweet Christ, yes.”

  His fingers were not content to merely try her bare skin, however. They stroked up a decadent rhythm that had her quite ready to lose her head and her breath both. Their mouths met in another series of possessing kisses. Her breasts ached. Her skin ached. Every pore in her body ached for him. She never wanted him to stop or to leave her. She thought wildly that they should lock themselves in a bedchamber for the rest of their lives and forget about the world. Forget about all else except for their miraculous love for one another. Because surely no worldly care should come between so pure an expression of love between a man and a woman. Surely nothing and no one could ever keep the
m from one another ever again.

  “Take off your clothes,” she ordered between kisses. “Take everything off.”

  “As you wish.” He leaned above her to shuck his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt. When he reached for the fastening on his trousers, she stopped him.

  “No.” She pushed him to his back on the bed and hooked her leg across his so that she straddled his lean hips. She dropped a kiss on his taut abdomen, savoring the rigid cords of his muscle, then moved lower, sinking a playful tongue into his navel. Cleo was most pleased to hear the breath hissing from his mouth. She ran her tongue lower, undoing the fastening on his trousers at the same time. When he sprang free, he was fully erect. She stopped her tongue at the base of his cock, then glanced up to look at him.

  Thornton’s head had fallen back, his beautiful, sullen mouth slack, his eyes glazed with passion. She had never known such a heady feeling of power, nor such a need to give pleasure to the man she loved. It was different between them. She was no longer an innocent maid, ignorant of how to touch a man. She could wield her power well.

  With a satisfied jerk, she pulled his trousers down his long legs, made quick work of his shoes, and tossed all to the floor behind her. The Marquis of Thornton lay naked on her bed. It was incredible. It was terrifying. It was…right.

  Cleo leaned over him once more, intent on giving him the same pleasure to which he had so recently treated her. She wrapped her hand around the base of his engorged shaft. His hips jerked. When she lowered her mouth to lick the velvety tip, he unleashed a feral moan. She took him into her mouth. Taking care to keep her teeth from scoring him, she moved up and down his length, losing herself in the rhythm. She couldn’t get enough of him. Cleo tortured him until he finally seized her arms and drew her up over his body and brought her lips to his for an ardent kiss.

  “Unlace my corset,” she ordered, the pain of the cinching finally cutting through the hazy desire that had taken up residence in her mind.

  His fingers found the ties and dismantled Bridget’s formidable double knot with alarming speed and accuracy. “You’re rather well schooled at divesting a lady of her undergarments,” she pointed out, cupping his face in her hands.

  “My prick’s never been this hard,” he grunted. “In my circumstances, you too could perform amazing feats of dexterity.”

  She laughed and dropped a lingering kiss on his lips. “You are fortunate indeed that I love you, my lord, else I may take umbrage at your shockingly depraved tongue.”

  “Darling, it’s about to get more depraved,” he promised.

  Cleo shuddered. “I dare say I hope it does.”

  “Smart lass.” He chuckled, then threw her corset over his head. It hooked on a vase of fresh English daisies and sent it crashing to the table before raining shards on the floor. Pieces skittered dully over the carpet.

  “Thornton!” She felt compelled to scold. After all, their hostess was an accommodating dear. It was not done to ruin one’s hostess’s French vases, particularly when one could not ostensibly lay blame where it belonged, upon one’s illicit lover’s shoulders.

  “Sweetheart?” He caught the neckline of her silk chemise and tore it in two, whipping the ragged pieces from her body and off to a similar fate to that of the corset and vase. Then the wicked man sucked a pebbled nipple into his mouth.

  “Ah.” She arched against him, still astride. What in the name of the holy angels had she been about to say? Oh yes. “You’ve broken Lady Cosgrove’s vase.”

  His tongue flicked over the hardened bud, deliberately teasing her. He stopped, blew softly on the aching peak and looked up at her with an innocently boyish expression. “Would you like me to clean up the pieces?” He blew again for good measure.

  “No,” she choked. “It can wait.”

  “Oh? Are you certain? I could just pop ’round the back here and scoop it into a tidy pile.”

  “Quite all right.” She grabbed one of his hands and pressed it to her abandoned breast. “Just make love to me, if you please.”

  “Indeed.” His thumb flicked a lazy circle around her breast. “Certain, my darling? It would be no trouble.”

  “Wretch!” Cleo arched into him. “Cease toying with me.”

  He smiled up at her, his lips curving against her skin. She sank her fingers into his hair, savoring the thick waves, the feel of his hard-bodied form pressed against her. “I love you, Cleopatra Harrington.”

  As far as she was concerned, Harrington was the only surname she cared to claim. It had been hers so long ago when they first met. “Can we pretend tonight that I am only Cleopatra Harrington?” she asked, voice hitching.

  “My darling, to me you will always be Cleopatra Harrington.” He pressed an opened-mouth kiss to the tender spot of skin between her breasts. “Always my own.”

  And then he began a trail of soft, loving kisses down to her abdomen, where he paused once more. His large hands cradled the nip of her waist. “Thank you for carrying our child, for being strong enough for the both of us.” When Thornton once again looked up to meet her gaze, there was a sheen of tears sparkling in his eyes. “I need you to forgive me for abandoning you then, because I will never forgive myself.”

  “I do forgive you, Alex, my love.” She cupped his face in her hands tenderly. “As you must forgive yourself. We knew so little of life then. We were young and silly and I was afraid. It was my mistake as much as yours and I have made my peace. You must make yours.”

  “I can only make peace if you leave him, Cleo.” He was once again caressing her body with his hands, skimming warm palms over her stomach, hips, breasts. Bringing her to life once more. His gaze was focused, clear and determined. “Promise me now that when I leave this house party you’ll go with me.”

  “With you?” She searched his expression but found it impossible to decipher. To leave openly with him would be tantamount to scandal. They may as well make a joint announcement in the Times that they planned to cuckold Scarbrough. “Heavens, what must you be thinking to suggest such folly?”

  “Not folly. I am deliberate.” To illustrate the veracity of his words, he spread her legs and sank his fingers between the moist folds of her sex. Two fingers slipped deep inside her. His thumb worked the nub of her sex. “You see? Deliberate action.”

  Her hips jerked. “Thornton!”

  A masculine smile of appreciation slid over his mouth. “You doubt me? I should hate to think you possess such appallingly little faith in me, darling.”

  He was stroking her, building a fire within her that threatened to consume her body. Possibly even her very soul. She’d never experienced anything more intoxicating. “I don’t…doubt,” she managed through clamped teeth.

  Still working his evocative rhythm, he lowered his tongue to her. Cleo nearly screamed with the pent-up pleasure and mad wanting.

  “It’s my turn to play,” he murmured, voice low and sinfully seductive. “If you don’t doubt me, then you will agree.”

  “I agree that you are a most exasperating man,” she gritted, having great difficulty exercising control of her breath or even her traitorous body at this particular juncture. His mouth was doing wicked things to her most sensitive parts and she rather liked it.

  “Not good enough.”

  “You, sir, are impossible.”

  “So you’ve told me on numerous occasions. I’m not easily swayed from my course.”

  “For a man not easily swayed, you’re making an awful lot of chatter,” she pointed out.

  Apparently, he took exception to her observation. He sucked the bud of her sex and plunged another finger inside her, stroking and stretching and bringing her to an arched-back, heaving, sobbing climax.

  He gave her no time to recover. His big body was on hers, pressing her into the bed. He rubbed his erection against her swollen mound, eliciting another loud moan from her. “I’ll endeavor to be more of a man of action,” he whispered, holding both her breasts in his hands and slanting a possessive kiss over her lips.<
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  She pushed her tongue into his mouth and ran her hands over the sinewy, smooth skin of his strong back. Cleo had never thought it possible to expire from sheer pleasure until this moment. Nor was she missish or given to fainting spells. But she feared both now. The feeling of Alex against her, their hearts thudding madly, tongues and breaths and legs tangling, his hardness about to enter her, all combined in a mind whirling assault. She loved this man, had always done and knew she would go anywhere, brave any scandal if he but asked it of her.

  “Will you leave here with me?” He drew back, their noses brushing.

  “Yes.”

  The moment she uttered the word, he was inside her. He took her in one deep, soul-splintering plunge. She arched her head back and his mouth feasted on her throat. In several quick pumps, she was gone again and before long, so was he. When it was over and they were both spiraling back to earth, he drew her to her side so they lay facing one another. His fingers swept unruly tendrils of hair from her face, then traced a soft path over her cheek and down to her lips.

  “I shall never forget the first moment we met when you took me to task over your fat black cat,” he said idly.

  She swatted his chest. “Clementine was not fat, you beast. She was just rather plump in a delightfully feline way.”

  “You used to chatter more than a magpie.”

  “If it’s your intention to ruin my good humor with you, you’re succeeding admirably,” she told him wryly.

  “I’m reminiscing.” He grinned and his frightfully attractive dimple made an appearance to soothe the sting. “They say there is no such thing as love at first sight, but I do believe we’re proof otherwise. If I didn’t love you at the first, I can’t think of an earthly reason why I would have listened to so much girlish nattering.”

  She pulled a chest hair to get even with him for the ‘girlish nattering’ bit. “Are we being wise, Alex?”

  “We’re being as wise as we can be,” he answered pragmatically.

  “I’ve never been this happy,” she confessed, almost afraid to admit it lest something should happen suddenly to ruin their carefully constructed haven. Too soon, their idyll would be at an end. And if he held her to her promise, they would leave together, making their relationship known to all the polite world. From there, things would grow more difficult.