“You won’t wear these anymore,” he said. “For the next month you will wear nothing beneath your gowns.”
She swallowed but nodded slowly. She shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable at being so revealed. But he wasn’t finished yet.
“Put one foot on the step next to the door,” he said as he moved to kneel before her on the carriage floor. “And the other on the seat beside you.”
“But then I’ll be wide open and—”
“I want you wide open,” he interrupted, his mouth watering as she stared down at him.
She bit her lip. “Are you going to claim me?”
He tilted his head at the question, spoken with such fear. Not that he blamed her. She likely knew very little about sex, as did most ladies. What she was about to give him was precious, her only bargaining chip in a world of men who would happily take advantage.
Just as he planned to take advantage, he supposed.
“I will,” he said slowly. “But not here, Marianne. Not in a carriage where you wouldn’t be comfortable. Tonight we will stop at an inn and rest. There will be a bed and time for me to make you ready.”
“Then what are you doing now?” she whispered.
“Pleasure isn’t only about putting my cock in you,” he said, reaching up to take one slippered foot and resting it on the step on the door. “There are many ways to find release, for both of us.”
“Release?” she asked, but she moved her other foot as she did so and opened herself to him.
He stared at the slick, sweet pussy set before him and shuddered with the power of his desire. Her constant questions should have reduced that need, but they didn’t. “Release. To make you come. Have you ever touched yourself, in the dark, in your bed? Here?”
He reached out and gently swiped his thumb across the crease between her thighs. She rocked into him as he did so, her breath breaking. She turned her face and he smiled.
“You have,” he said. “Have you ground against your hand, seeking pleasure?”
She swallowed hard, and then she nodded without looking at him.
“That pleasure was your release. Coming. And I can make you do that right here, right now.”
She licked her lips and let her gaze return to him. “How?”
He didn’t answer, but bent his head, nudging his nose along the fragrant folds of her sex. She tensed beneath that touch, lifting her hips toward him with a muffled moan. A moan that turned to a harsh cry when he darted out his tongue and traced it along the entrance to her sex.
Marianne gripped her hands against the carriage seat as sensations crashed over her. Alexander was…licking her. Pressing her folds open with his big hands and licking her over and over. And it was magnificent! His tongue was rough and firm, awakening nerves that she’d only just barely brought to life when she touched herself in those stolen moments he’d forced her to admit to taking in the dark of her chamber.
This was no fumbled attempt in the dark. No, this man knew exactly what he was doing.
He lifted his head from between her thighs and she shivered as she stared at him. He looked so wicked, kneeling between her spread legs, his big hands pressing her open even wider, his lips slick and his eyes dark and dangerous.
“You’re thinking too much, Marianne,” he whispered, his voice thick and low. “Let go.”
She swallowed hard. What he was asking her to do was near-impossible. She had so much responsibility, so much she carried on her back. If she let go, even for a moment, she feared she would lose her grip and everything would come crashing down around her, around Juliet.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
She forced herself to do so, locking eyes with him and losing herself in the swirling, dark depths.
“Let. Go,” he repeated. An order this time, rather than a request. But also a form of permission. This man, for all intents and purposes, had purchased her surrender in exchange for her sister’s future.
And she would obey him. Because she should. Because she wanted to.
She settled back against the carriage seat and closed her eyes, pushing away her worries, her fears, her nagging questions about this man and about her future. And with great difficulty, she let go.
She felt his breath against her folds a second time, and she gasped as the stroke of his tongue returned to her wet, tingling sex. She lifted into him, reveling in the sensations he woke in her. And there were so very many sensations to be explored. The stroke of his tongue, the feel of his strong fingers holding her open to him in the most wicked ways, and of course the response of her hungry, wanton body.
Her entire being seemed to hum with increasing pleasure as he licked and licked. Tingles spread from every fold and pulsed in that bundle of nerves just at the top of her sex. The one he sometimes swirled his tongue around and made her lurch and cry out with pleasure.
What he was doing, the reactions his mouth elicited, it was similar to the pleasure she brought herself with her hands, but far more intense and focused. And it built with powerful force as he focused more and more on her clitoris.
She arched into him, grinding her hips without even meaning to do so, reaching for the pleasure he promised with every stroke of his tongue. And then, suddenly, it was there, explosive as it washed over her in long, powerful waves.
Her eyes flew open and she stared at him as he continued to lick her through the crisis, holding her hips steady as he pulled more and more and more sensation free. After what seemed like an eternity, the jolts of electric pleasure subsided and he lifted his head to smile up at her.
Her heart skipped a beat. He really was uncommonly handsome. She wanted to trace both scar and jaw with her fingers, with her mouth.
He leaned up, bracing himself on the seat, and kissed her. Once again her mind emptied as she tasted the earthy flavor of her release on his tongue and melted into the driving sensation of his mouth.
“That was perfect,” he murmured as he gently tugged her skirts back down over her legs. “Did you enjoy it?”
She laughed despite the intensity of this moment and the gravity of what she had just allowed this man, this veritable stranger, to do to her.
“Were my gasps and cries not proof enough of my enjoyment?” she teased.
He arched a brow and reached out to trace a circle around her nipple with the edge of his fingernail. She gasped at the sensation as desire flooded her a second time.
“Women can pretend their release, you know, far easier than a man can.”
She shook her head. “There was nothing pretended about that, I assure you. It was…wonderful. Better than anything I’ve found on my own.”
He nodded, and she thought there was a moment of relief on his face. Like he was afraid she hadn’t truly wanted him or liked what they’d done. But then it was gone and he was stoic and unreadable again.
“Good,” he said, his tone more formal. “Would you like me to rebutton you?”
She nodded slowly and slid her arms through her sleeves before she put her back to him a second time. He was just as swift and efficient in tidying her as he had been in making her so very undone. When she was returned to some semblance of order, he moved to his side of the carriage where he settled against the seat, watching her with those intensely bright blue eyes.
She shifted under his scrutiny. “Er, isn’t there something we can do for…you?”
Those same eyes went wide. “For me?”
“Although I’m an innocent, or I was an innocent. Am I still an innocent? You’ve not taken my maidenhead, but—”
“Marianne,” he said softly, and she shut her mouth. She was rambling. Again. But he had a tiny hint of a smile on his face, like he was not annoyed by it.
She cleared her throat and refocused herself. “I have heard told that men are very uncomfortable if they are…excited and then cannot find release.”
He shifted. “Men who do not understand the value of anticipation, perhaps,” he said, his vo
ice dropping back to that low and dangerous tone. “I do. There will be hours for me to picture what it will feel like to slide home into that sweet pussy of yours, Marianne. To feel you pulse around me, tight as a glove. Hours to imagine the way you will arch beneath me as you give yourself over in every way imaginable.”
Marianne’s lips parted as excitement coursed through her. In truth, she had been hesitant about joining with this man. It was one thing to like his kisses, or even the wickedness of his mouth against her most private of places. But letting him mount her was quite another thing, one that was permanent. One that some of her married friends had described as less than pleasant. But when he held her stare and said those words…those wicked, heated words…she found herself wanting just what he described.
“Why don’t you rest?” he said, turning his face to stare out the window. “It’s a long ride and I doubt you slept much last night. You’ll likely not sleep tonight either, if I do my job right. So it will be in your best interest to nap if you can.”
She tilted her head, searching his face. A moment ago he had been tender and passionate with her. Now he had placed a wall between them. But what was she to do about it? Their bargain was about pleasure, but it was at his whim. She certainly had no right to press him if he no longer wanted to talk to her.
And he was, of course, right. The night before had been sleepless and she was exhausted.
“Very well,” she said softly.
He reached down and opened a drawer that had been built into the bench of his seat. From it, he pulled a small pillow and a neatly folded blanket. “For your comfort,” he said.
She took the offerings and carefully set up her place on the seat. She rested her head on the pillow, propping it against the wall next to her and watched him for a moment.
Finally, she took in a deep breath and said, “Alexander?”
He glanced at her. “Yes?”
“Thank you for being…kind,” she said.
His mouth thinned and he shrugged. “I look out for my best interest, Marianne. Kindness has nothing to do with it.”
With that, he pulled a folded paper from the gap in the seat next to him and opened it, closing off communication between them. She sighed and shut her eyes, but even as sleep overtook her, she couldn’t help but think that his final words to her were not correct. And that he simply wished to hide any gentleness or softness from her.
Which made her wonder about him all the more.
Chapter Five
Darkness had gathered in the carriage, but the occasional reflection from the moonlight outside still allowed Alexander a good look at Marianne. She was tucked up on the seat across from him, sound asleep. Just as she had been for hours. The depth of her sleep made him wonder just how long it had been since she had really rested.
Not that it was his problem. He hadn’t taken Marianne into this bargain to repair whatever damage others had done to her. He’d done it for himself. For his gratification.
She shifted a little, letting out a tiny moan in her sleep, and his body clenched. He had already gone too far with her, an innocent. A lady. Ruined her just by taking her on this trip, not to mention when he spread her wide and made her come.
And he would do more to her. So much more.
“You are a selfish bastard,” he muttered out loud, flopping back on the carriage seat and looking away from Marianne. When he shut his eyes, he could still see her in his mind. Only he pictured her with a look of horror, a look of fear and heartache. He pictured her ruined, because that was the only thing he was capable of doing, ruining those around him. That had always been true and it would likely always be true. If he’d had any decency he would have sent her away the moment he caught her in his home and continued to hide away just as he had these past two years. Continued to protect the world from what he was at his heart, protect himself from what they would see when they looked at him.
Instead, he had allowed their brief encounter in London to create a scenario in which he dragged this woman into his darkness. Where he would destroy her future just to make his own a tiny fraction more bearable.
The carriage began to slow and he straightened, pulling back the curtain farther. As he had suspected, they had arrived at the inn for the night. As the carriage stopped, he watched as one of the footmen jumped down to make the arrangements. He’d already been given specific orders, and Alexander expected them to be followed.
He let out a long breath and leaned forward to extend his hand. He planned to touch Marianne’s knee to gently wake her, but he found himself hesitating. It was funny, for he had touched her intimately just a few hours before. Now the idea of squeezing her leg felt too…familiar.
He didn’t have to, though. Before he could muster his nerve or his heart or whatever it was that was required, she stirred on her own and her eyes opened. She looked across the carriage at him and a slow smile spread across her lovely face.
“Hello,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep. Then it was as if she recognized where she was. The smile faded, and she bolted to an upright position and looked around. “Oh, we’ve stopped. Where are we?”
“At an inn,” he explained, pulling his hand back and wondering at the odd disappointment at the act. He hadn’t wanted to touch her and now he felt sorry he hadn’t. Foolishness.
“Oh,” she whispered, and swallowed hard. He could see her mind working, turning on what he’d told her earlier in the day: that he would take her tonight, at the inn.
He could hardly wait.
“Come,” he said, tapping on the door so that the waiting servant would open it for them at last.
Alexander climbed out first and then turned back to offer his hand to Marianne. She stared at him, her green eyes boring down into him with intensity, like she could read his soul.
“Come,” he repeated, more sharply this time, and she frowned as she took his assistance. Her fingers folded around his and he jolted at the touch. She did the same, those beautiful eyes widening as she darted her gaze away, as if she didn’t look at him that this connection between them would fade in intensity.
It didn’t, but he released her the moment she was steady on her feet and turned toward the footman who was now returning from the inn.
“You spoke to the owner?” Alexander asked sharply.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the young man responded with a quick nod. “The name I gave was Smith. The room will be ready momentarily and food will be sent up, just as you requested.”
Alexander nodded. “Very good. Help Rodgers with the animals. We leave tomorrow at dawn so that we may arrive home before supper.”
“Yes, sir,” the footman replied as Alexander motioned Marianne to join him as he walked toward the inn.
She did so silently, her eyes wide as she stared up at the building that loomed before her. Her questions were reflected on her face, her fears, but there was something else there. Something he recognized, and it hit him in the gut. He saw her desire. Her excitement. She was an innocent, that much was clear, but she was a responsive innocent. One who had been built for pleasure, it seemed.
And he could not wait to test her limits and awaken her.
Marianne’s hands shook, but she shoved them behind her back as she and Alexander entered the inn and were greeted by a portly man in fine clothing. He had a huge mustache and a wide smile beneath it as he rushed forward to greet them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Smith!” he said, a little too loudly, but with a jolly quality that wasn’t diminished even as his eyes widened when he observed Alexander’s scar. “Welcome, welcome. I’m Mr. Carlisle. All the arrangements are being made.”
Alexander tensed as the man looked at his face, but he began to speak and Marianne looked off away from them. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Of course Alexander would give the man false information about their identities. About the fact that they were married. The innkeeper didn’t seem the kind who would participate in the ruination of an innocent.
“My dear?”
She jumped when she realized Alexander was referring to her. “Yes?”
He smiled, but there was a tension to his mouth, one that pulled the scar across his face and brightened the white line. “Mr. Carlisle is showing us to our room.”
“Of course,” Marianne said with a little shake of her head and a glance for the waiting innkeeper. “I’m sorry, it was a long day of travel.”
The innkeeper moved ahead of them, guiding them through a main hall and toward a set of stairs. “I can well imagine, madam. But our beds are comfortable and our food is perfection. A good night’s sleep will put you to rights.”
Marianne glanced at Alexander. He had already promised she would have no sleep tonight. Right now she didn’t want sleep. She wanted to…touch him. She didn’t know how to do that or what would actually happen once she did, but the desire pulsed in her regardless.
Mr. Carlisle took them to the end of a long hallway and pushed open the door at the end. “Here we are. Our best rooms.”
Alexander motioned Marianne in first and she gasped. It was a lovely room, big and open, with a fire burning brightly. There was a table by the window, already set for supper, though food had not yet been delivered. There was another door on the opposite side of the room, and the innkeeper bustled forward to open it. “The bedroom,” he explained. “And through it to the dressing room, where the—”
“Yes,” Alexander cut him off. “Thank you.”
The man nodded and looked from one of them to the other. “Well, I’ll leave you now. Food will be delivered into the main sitting room shortly and the other…item…will be taken care of in an hour or so?”
“Two,” Alexander said, his stare focusing on Marianne. There was a smoky heat to it, one that curled her toes in her stockings and made her thighs clench against her will.
Stealing The Duke Page 4
