Beauty Tempts the Beast

by Leslie Dicken

  Her midnight eyes widened. “You let her stay to amuse yourself with her emotions? Is that what you do with me?”

  Hell, he wanted Vivian to stay. “Yes.” But he did not enjoy fooling with her emotions. “I mean, no.” She was not Catherine, but she was a woman. He’d learned how easily they changed their minds.

  She crossed her arms. “I will no longer be your false betrothed. You once offered to give me coins to find another place to go. I will take that offer and make my way to another hidden location.”

  Heat flared up from his gut. His ears burned. “You can’t go yet.”

  Vivian raised her brows. “Oh, can’t I?”

  She couldn’t just depart like this. She wouldn’t go when he demanded it and now, when he wanted her to stay, she insisted on leaving. Bloody hell, he controlled what went on in this manor. “You’ll not go until Catherine leaves.”

  “I promised to stay until the garden was complete. And it is.”

  “What about Harry?”

  “Ah, now you are willing to let me play with him?”

  A vein throbbed on his forehead. “He won’t stop talking about you. He couldn’t bear it if you left him.”

  “What about you, my lord?” Her voice lowered. “Could you bear it if I left?”

  At one time he could not tolerate it if she stayed. Now he wasn’t so sure the nightmares weren’t worth her presence.

  He had to be a man and admit to his failings. Admit that he used her body for selfish release.

  “I…” He stood and partially turned away, staring into the darkness. The soft glow from the lamp embraced them in an intimate cocoon. Ashworth cleared his throat. “I will tell you that I am sorry for the other night.”

  “Sorry?” Her voice squeaked.

  “For what happened in my bedchamber.”

  “That is unfortunate. Because I am not the least bit sorry.”

  Vivian knew he wasn’t remorseful for what happened between them. She remembered the way his eyes squeezed closed, the look of utter ecstasy in his upturned lips. How could she not know what those primal groans meant?

  He’d found rapture that night. And so had she.

  Her breasts ached for his hands, mouth yearned for his kiss. Whether or not she remained here at Silverstone Manor, Vivian was out to find pleasure. While she still could.

  Charles turned back to her, the light spreading across his cheek. His scar appeared deeper, wider in these shadows. His eyes looked more hopeful than she’d seen in a very long time.

  He thrust a hand through his hair. “But I…overtook you.”

  She scooted to the edge of the couch. Her nipples twinged, pebbled. But he was still too far from reach. “I needed you as desperately as you needed me. I thought I might die from the longing if you had exiled me to my bedchamber.”

  “Vivian, you spoke of how your first time lacked tenderness, how the other man did nothing to bring you satisfaction.”

  She gazed up at his long, lean figure. This time it pleased her to have him towering over her. Her blood burned. “And it was so. But you are not him. My body has craved your touch almost since the day I arrived.”

  He took a step closer and Vivian smoothed her hands down his hips. “I am no virgin.”

  Charles moaned at her caresses. “I feared I was the same as the man you had run from.”

  She leaned forward and rested her cheek into his pelvis, where his flesh instantly hardened against her. “You are a man who has made me wanton with desire.”

  He dug his hands into her hair. “I…” His voice softened, like the whisper of an angel. “I don’t want you to think I am a monster.”

  Vivian turned her face and pressed her lips to the strained fabric of his trousers. The spot between her legs dampened as she remembered the taste of his flesh in her mouth, the stark hunger in his gaze when he yanked her away. For all his might and prowess, he was only a vulnerable man when faced with the most ancient of needs.

  His hands swept down her shoulders to under her arms and he pulled her to stand. “Not today.” He started unbuttoning her dress. “Today we give you bliss.”

  Vivian licked her lips, recalled the dream she had of being out on the lake. Her mysterious stranger kissed her inner thighs, pressed his lips against her mound, sunk his tongue into her core. He tasted her until the sweet tension broke and rocked her into reality.

  She whimpered.

  He lifted her chin, nibbled at her lips. “So you like my idea.” Hot hands found her breasts and freed them of the restrictive clothing. “You want me to fondle you, kiss you, taste you.”

  If he touched her in just the right spot now, she would be lost to the heavens.

  Instead, she took in a deep breath and unbuttoned his pants.

  “No.” The word trembled with raw hunger. “Not yet.”

  But Vivian continued until his trousers were loose. She pushed his clothing to the floor, allowing his magnificent flesh to spring free into her hand.

  “Vivian…I—I can’t…not if you…”

  “Tonight is not the night to be leisurely.” She kicked off her petticoats and undergarments until she stood naked before him. “I want to prove to you that what happened the first time brought me as much pleasure as it did you.”

  She led him to the couch and pushed at him.

  Charles lifted a brow. “You want me to sit?”

  Vivian nodded. She watched as he removed his shirt, her gaze drawn to the massive expanse of his chest. Every muscle perfect and powerful, from the firm curve of his jaw to hard planes of his stomach. From the tight roundness of biceps to the strength of his feet. Every feminine part in her body rose to attention, cried for his mercy.

  He was glorious, breathtaking, wild and fierce. And she yearned for him like she never would another.

  He lowered himself to the sofa and spread his arms across the back. His erection rose upward, as if daring her to act upon it.

  Vivian moved close to him, her pulse violent. But first she unraveled her braid, knowing how much it aroused him to see her so undone. His breath snagged as she combed her fingers through her hair then swept it over her shoulders.

  “It shines like the still waters of Briarwater at midnight.”

  She smiled at his flattery. “Someday I would like to return to Briarwater.” Hovering over him, Vivian straddled his legs. “I would like to take a small boat, you and I, and row out to the middle under a brilliant, starry sky.”

  He sighed. “Yes.”

  She bent low, brought her lips close to his. “Take me hard and fast as you did the other day.”

  He blinked, gulped.

  “This tension inside me must be broken. I’ve not the patience for slow adoration.” Her hands gripped his powerful shoulders, already slick with a sheen of sweat.

  Hot fingers clamped onto her hips. “Are—are you ready for me?” Desire and dread mingled in his shadowed eyes.

  “Why did you close your eyes last time? Don’t you want to watch us?”

  His lips thinned, nostrils flared. “Vivian, I want to watch more than you will ever know. But I cannot. I fear…” He would say no more.

  Those bloody secrets! She would force it from his lips somehow. He would tell her what kept him so hidden behind crumbling walls and untrue rumors.

  Vivian lowered herself until her aching dampness rubbed against the tip of his arousal. Charles moaned. His eyelids drifted closed.

  She sank down on him and whimpered with the amazing sensation of fulfillment. She could stay here forever, connected to him.

  His hands rocked her back and forth, pulled her up and down his shaft. She watched his cheeks turn ruddy, his lips part. But his eyes remained shut.

  Using the strength in her legs, she lifted herself up and held still.

  “Down, Vivian… keep moving.”

  She pushed his arms away. “Not until you look at me.”

  Instantly, he squeezed his eyes. “No. I’ll not.”

  She sank down, tingles race
d through her legs until her toes curled. Her tension tightened, bringing a gasp to her lips and a powerful yearning to her nipples.

  But she forced herself to rise. “Look at me.”

  Charles clamped his jaw, but refused her command. “Do not force me to do this, Vivian. I want pleasure too.”

  Damn him! What did he see when he gazed upon her? What terrible vision turned him away?

  Vivian slid down once again on his erection. This time, she moved her hips toward him, stroking her sensitive nub against his hard flesh.

  He threw his head back. Damp curls clung to the strained tendons on his neck. Vivian brought her lips to his skin, licked the salt along his muscles.

  Groaning, he grabbed her breasts, kneading them, circling the peaks with his thumbs.

  She rocked on him, rising, twisting, pressing. She pushed the tempo, suckled his ears, plundered his lips.

  The tension rose between them, the air thick with their desperate need for release.

  He buried his face into the curve of her shoulder, nipping her skin with a gentle tease. “Vivian…oh, Vivian.”

  The bubble expanded deep in her core, widening, ready to burst. She wanted…oh Lord, she needed…

  No, she would force him to share this moment with her. Vivian rose up one last time, her restraint put to the test. “Look. At. Me.”

  She cupped her hands around his jaw, the evening whiskers a sensual tickle on her palms. “I will not leave you. No matter what.”

  “Nay, Vivian.” His husky voice spoke of hunger.

  “Either tell me what you fear or open your eyes. Else you will not find relief within me.”

  The entire room stilled, paused into immobility. Even in the dim light she could see the struggle upon his face, the wincing of his closed eyelids. Any moment now she expected him to push her off, choosing frustration over confession, disappointment over courage.

  Her leg muscles throbbed from the position she held, her heart drummed deep within her ribs. The need for relief was so intense, so strong, an urge rose to bring her fingers to the wetness between her legs.

  Instead, she swept her hand along the slick skin of his hardened flesh, reminding him of her presence. Of what he would miss should he choose the familiar comfort.

  Charles stilled her hand. “Can’t you understand? I want to envision your beauty, not see you as…as repulsive.”

  She pressed her lips to his ear. “You can control what you see. Believe that you will see beauty and you will.”

  “I don’t…can’t believe you.”

  “Then I go.” She pulled back and lifted her leg away. It pained her to do so. Not just for the passion she craved with him but the trust she hoped he’d give her.

  “Wait.”

  Vivian paused, stood before him. A cool breeze blew across her damp skin. The light dimmed and flickered.

  Charles drew in a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.

  His eyes snapped open.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  There was no blood.

  Ashworth stared at Vivian’s brilliant eyes, her succulent lips, dimpled chin. His gaze moved lower, down her smooth shoulders, over her rose-tipped breasts, along her shadowed stomach.

  His pulse quickened. He saw nothing marring the triangle of hair between her long, shapely legs.

  Oh God, had the curse been broken?

  Her hand reached out and brushed his jaw. “What do you see, my lord?”

  Ashworth swallowed, his mouth suddenly parched. “Beauty.”

  She traced a line down his scar. “You trusted me. Believed me.”

  Deliverance swept like a crisp river through his bloodstream. He’d been freed. No more sights of blood, no more visions of death. Perhaps the nightmares too would be gone.

  He grinned, brushed his fingers over her tempting peaks.

  Her breath hitched. She still wanted him. How he planned to fill her....

  Ashworth pulled her closer to him, buried his face between her breasts. She smelled lightly of sweat mixed with honeysuckle. He licked his way down her skin, tickled her navel with his tongue.

  His flesh hardened again.

  “I want to taste you, Vivian. I want to see…nay, lick, every inch of your supple skin.”

  “I want,” she swallowed, “I want that, but I need…I’m so tight…”

  His lips curled. “Tight?”

  She straddled his legs again. “I must have release. Soon.”

  Ashworth grabbed the round cheeks of her bottom, his voice low and husky. “You still want it hard and fast, Vivian?”

  She bit her lip, whimpered.

  In an instant, he flipped her onto her back, lying her along the couch. Her face flushed, eyes half lowered, as he nudged himself between her legs.

  “You are beautiful. And you are mine.”

  Ashworth thrust himself deep. Her wet heat enveloped him in glorious rapture. She wiggled beneath him, rose her hips up. Her need for release was far more desperate than his. He plunged in over and over, wrenching cries from her lips as her head twisted from side to side.

  Her nipple tasted of heaven, sweet and luscious.

  “Please!” She grabbed his hips, pulled him deep. “More!”

  He reached his hand between their bodies and flicked her swollen nub with his fingers, even as he continued driving into her soft flesh.

  “Oh…yes!” Her head dropped back and her channel convulsed around him in divine spasms.

  He’d intended to still, to let her have her moment. But he couldn’t withhold the surge rising up from his core. Ashworth plunged into her moisture again and again. Surely he would die if he stopped now. Die if he didn’t find release.

  Tingles raced down his spine, then exploded in his groin.

  His groans echoed off the chamber’s walls. He collapsed onto her, physically and emotionally spent. “Vivian…you don’t know what you have done for me.”

  Her breath was warm in his ear. “Are you a changed man?”

  “You have set me free. I don’t know how but you’ve done it.”

  “No.” She brushed the damp hair from his forehead, her own breathing shallow. “You have believed in yourself. Perhaps now you can tell me what you would see.”

  Could he? What would she think of his gruesome visions? Of his shocking story of waking up and finding a whore covered in blood and a knife in his hand?

  His gut twisted, saturating his mouth with a bitter taste.

  Ashworth slid out of her. His breathing was still erratic, his pulse still frenzied, but he could not reveal his horrifying secrets.

  “Don’t go.”

  But he was already pulling his clothing on. “I’ll find Lady Wainscott and ask her to leave. Her presence has become too unsettling.”

  Vivian’s eyes penetrated through the soft glow. “You ask her to go because it upsets me?”

  He shrugged, uncertain which answer she hoped to hear.

  “Does that mean you intend to marry me?”

  Ashworth forced himself to continue his dressing, forced himself not to flinch. “You don’t know me. Don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “Nay.”

  “You are afraid I would leave you? Not accept you?”

  He didn’t know what he feared by telling her. Could he trust her? What if she found a way to take Harry from him?

  She wouldn’t want him anyway. Could she possibly love him despite the truth? He snorted. He once thought Catherine loved him too.

  Vivian stood and searched for her underclothes. He watched her firm bottom as she bent over to sort through the jumble of fabrics on the floor. He could observe her all day, gaze at her while sleeping, stare at her as she gardened.

  She continued dressing in silence, only releasing a heavy sigh as she braided her hair. Now completely recomposed, Vivian lifted her chin.

  “I’ll not be your mistress, my lord. As much as I need to remain in hiding, I cannot sacrifice my honor.” Along with
determination in her eyes, he could have sworn he saw something akin to dread. “If you find you still cannot marry me, then I…I will go.”

  Ashworth spun away from her. His throat stung as if he’d swallowed a mountainside of thistles.

  How could he marry her? Despite being absolved of the visions, he was not pardoned from his possible participation in a killing. He suffered enough raising Harry under that chance, but the sight of his son never caused ghastly images.

  What if those hauntings returned? He could not sleep in his wife’s bed, nor fill her belly with his child.

  And if she left the manor? His son would wail at her loss, the garden would once again fall into a hopeless tangle, the room next to his would house only spiders.

  And he would feel dead. Just as he had before she’d arrived.

  So Charles thought he could avoid her.

  Catherine turned the corner down the dimly lit hallway. She would not return to London a failure, with her tail tucked between her legs. How hard could it be to convince a lonely, wealthy eccentric to marry a beautiful woman of proper society? Who else would be willing to have his name?

  The oft-dirty Miss Suttley?

  She laughed and rounded another corner. The girl, despite being a baron’s daughter, was not prepared to be a viscount’s wife. Obviously, she too was out to use Charles. But her reasons were vague.

  Catherine would make them known. She would not allow that girl to take her man away.

  The ancient wooden door she sought loomed dark at the end of the hallway. Outside it a glass of clear liquid rested upon a tarnished silver platter. Ah, a perfect greeting.

  The tray in one hand, she knocked.

  Shuffling noises behind the door and then it swung open.

  Catherine couldn’t withhold her gasp. Charles stood in only his breeches. His bare chest gleamed in the low light, hard angles and dark shadows. She never realized the strength in his shoulders or arms, the leanness of his stomach.

  Something stirred deep inside her center. She had not been with a man for far too long. And her husband never looked like this.

  Charles sighed. “Catherine. What are you doing here?”