This was a problem.
If he wanted anything more than her body, he would have said as much after their…encounter…in the hidden room. He’d had her in the palm of his hand, quite literally, and still he had let her traipse through a darkened garden with Colonel Kent.
It was humiliating.
She frowned at the cloak on her lap. There would be no nuzzling. But she found herself shifting almost imperceptibly closer to him.
The rain had not slowed upon their arrival at Haverly. Great sheets of water dumped from the sky like a waterfall. Wessex jumped out of the coach, helped Eliza down, and ushered her inside the house. Nathaniel followed his lead, offering his hand to Alice. He took the umbrella and dismissed the footman and the driver to see to the horses.
Under the shelter of the umbrella, she looked up at Nathaniel. And her heart clenched. Once Nicholas was gone, she would be, too.
She tried to memorize the curve of his jaw, the exact blue of his eyes, the way his copper lashes started as dark brown before fading to shimmering gold at the tips. The way his mouth—
Oh, heavens, that mouth.
She stood on tiptoe and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips. “Good-bye,” she whispered against his ear. Then she darted out into the rain.
She didn’t make it far. She heard his footsteps behind her then felt his hand on her arm, pulling her back against him.
“No,” he said furiously, just before his lips came crashing down on hers.
The umbrella fell to the ground, splattering mud as it landed. She didn’t care. She was soaked to the bone, as was he, but his heat kept her warm as their tongues clashed together. She twined her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. It was not nearly enough. The ache low in her belly told her nothing short of complete and utter ruin would ever be enough.
He pulled back with a low growl. “Go into the house. Straight up to your room, do you understand?”
No, not really.
She stared mutely at him through rain-soaked eyelashes. He couldn’t mean…
Could he?
“Alice.” He gave her a small shake. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He pressed his mouth hard against hers and then released her with a tiny push. “Go.”
She did not stop to think. She just went.
Chapter Fifty-One
Nathaniel entered the house just in time to hear Alice tell her aunt that she was soaked to the bone and needed a change of clothes.
“I’m feeling rather tired after our morning, Auntie. I believe I shall spend the afternoon resting in my room. Please make my apologies to Lady Wintham.”
He turned and made for the south staircase, thanking God that he was a man. No one would question his disappearance. They would assume he was playing pool or drinking brandy or tending to estate matters in his office—some manly pursuit or other that did not include ravishing a lady in her bedchamber.
He took the stairs two at a time. Once at his own room, he speedily stripped off his damp clothes and replaced them with dry ones. He didn’t bother with a cravat or other niceties. He fully intended to be naked again in mere moments.
He had known the moment Alice said good-bye at the carriage and touched her lips to his that she meant to leave him forever and return to London or, God forbid, Northumberland. The thought was unbearable. He would ruin her first, bind her to him in a way that left her no choice in the matter.
He walked softly down the hall, carrying his boots in one arm. There was no one to see him in his state of half dress, for which he was profusely grateful. For once, it seemed that luck was on his side. He knocked quietly on her door and turned the knob. It was unlocked.
“Alice,” he said, then stopped.
Good God.
She was standing in the middle of the room shivering violently, and her lips had a faint bluish tinge to them. He locked the door and was next to her in an instant. She was still wearing her wet clothes, every cold fiber clinging to her delicate skin.
“I dismissed my maid,” she said through chattering teeth. “I thought…”
He swore softly. What an ass he was! It hadn’t occurred to him that she could not undress without help. While he had been caring for himself, Alice had been rapidly freezing to death.
He turned her around and stared at the row of buttons down her back. They were so tiny and there were so damned many. The wet fabric made the task even more difficult. He struggled with the first one for a full minute before it finally slipped through the hole. He moved on to the next.
She made a small, rueful laugh. “I can’t feel anything. I think I’m numb.” Her teeth clacked together with every word.
He swore again and gathered a fistful of fabric in each hand. With one hard tug, the tiny pearls popped from their moorings and scattered to the floor, the sound of their demise muffled by the plush rug. He wrestled the dress, heavy with water, off her body and pulled her shift over her head.
She was now naked in his arms, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Not when it was his fault she was near death from cold. He scooped her up and deposited her under the thick covers. After removing his own clothes for the second time, he joined her.
“I’m still cold,” she whispered. Her icy hands went to his chest.
He flinched and pulled her in closer so their thighs and bellies melded together. She wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed in, taking his heat for her own. He gave it freely. She could have all the warmth his body possessed, even if he turned into a man-size icicle, if it meant she would stop shivering.
He lifted one leg over hers, tangling their limbs together. He ran his hands briskly down her arms and back, trying to warm her skin.
“Nathaniel.” She laughed against his throat. “If you rub me any harder, my skin will start to smoke.”
He dropped fervent little kisses on the crown of her head. Damn it! Even her hair was cold. “I’m so sorry I made you wait, Alice. Forgive me?”
“Of course.” She kissed the underside of his jaw. “Silly man.”
She wiggled against him. His cock, which had repentantly stood down during the crisis, now perked back up. Alice, he suddenly realized, was naked in his arms—and now he could enjoy it. She was in his arms, and she was going to let him kiss her and touch her and do all manner of things. Things he longed to do, things he had dreamed of. Things—
Things he didn’t actually know how to do.
Dear God.
Should he tell her? Most men over the age of nineteen had bedded a woman at least once. By thirty, an earl-to-be should have had dozens of partners. Surely, she expected him to be no different.
But what would he say? Well, darling, it turns out that neither of us knows what we’re doing, so say a prayer and hope for the best.
No.
He started to shake.
“Oh, no. I’ve made you cold now, haven’t I?” She stroked her hands over his chest and back as he had done for her.
But he wasn’t cold. His blood was on fire. Her lips burned a path up his throat, and he groaned. It didn’t matter that he had never done this before. Millions of men since Adam had figured it out and lived to tell the tale over frothy pints of beer. He would, too. He thought of the moment in the secret room where she had come apart in his hands, and that gave him courage.
She reached between them to where he was nestled against her soft belly. Her fingertips brushed against the velvet tip, and his cock jerked eagerly. Christ. He would spend like a schoolboy before he ever breached her maidenhead.
He gave a strangled laugh and arched his hips away from her touch, holding her wrist still with one hand. “No, darling, not this time.”
“I can’t touch you?”
She sounded oddly deflated. Could it be that she wanted to explore him as much as he wanted to explore her? That was…unexpected. And yet, she didn’t seem frightened or disgusted, which was what he expected after the way he had spent himself on her belly. True ladies, he had always heard,
were ill equipped to handle the more animalistic aspects of sexual desire. They preferred to lie there, eyes squeezed closed, and think of England.
But Alice was a true lady, and she had just reached for his cock.
Which meant…
Which meant…
Well, it meant that men were idiots when it came to ladies.
Hardly new information, that.
He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “You can touch me here.” He moved it to his chest. “And here.” Her fingers instantly played with the hair there, and he smiled. “You can touch me anywhere except where I want your touch the most. It will all be over far too soon if you touch me there.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “Can I kiss you?”
Sweet merciful heavens. He had heard of women doing such things if one paid them enough, but ladies? Never. He pulled back and regarded her uncertainly.
Ah.
No.
She meant a proper kiss. On the lips.
Although, perhaps someday…
He took her mouth before his addled brain could finish the thought. Her lips parted, granting him entry, and he slipped his tongue inside. They tasted each other, tongues gliding and searching.
With gentle pressure, he rolled them so she was on her back and he was on top of her. Her legs fell open without protest, and he settled in the cradle of her thighs. He felt her nipples against his chest and lowered his head to lick the hardened peaks. She arched, thrusting herself deeper into his hot mouth.
Desperate little sounds escaped her, urging him on. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding his mouth where she wanted it, and he was only too happy to oblige. He lavished attention on first one breast and then the other, licking and sucking and grazing lightly with his teeth. Her hips bucked against him, and he thought he would go mad with desire.
Kiss her everywhere, Wessex had suggested. See what she likes.
He hadn’t the time. His cock throbbed painfully. There would be, he hoped, many such encounters in their future. He could kiss her and touch her to his heart’s content then, but just now, he was in danger of exploding.
He slid his hand between them, seeking. Please, please be ready. Thanks to the bragging of his friends, he knew that her body would help him fit, but only if he first helped her. He touched her. She was damp, but perhaps not quite enough. The vivid descriptions he’d heard made him seek out a certain place between her folds, and he easily found the small pearl that was said to give the greatest pleasure. He pressed his thumb against it and swirled. She cried out, and he gave a low growl of satisfaction. After a short time, his finger glided easily inside her. She was ready.
He took his hand away and smoothed the hair from her forehead. He nudged the tip of him against her entrance, and hesitated. He should give her a chance to change her mind, to take what was left of her virginity and flee.
Like hell he would.
“Alice,” he said. “You are mine.”
He pushed inside.
But only an inch.
She clenched around him, keeping him from fully inserting himself.
“Darling,” he pleaded with a groan. He kissed her trembling lips. She relaxed slightly, and he gained another inch. “Let me in, sweetheart.”
“Slowly. Please?” Her eyes were wide and anxious.
Now would be the time to tell her he didn’t have as much control over his body as she believed. But no. Why terrify her further?
“Does it hurt?” he asked and immediately wished he hadn’t. Of course it did.
“A bit.”
He hated that he must hurt her. He nuzzled her breast again. That, at least, she seemed to like. She whimpered, and her inner muscles stretched a little more, allowing him to sink deeper into her.
Sweat broke out on his brow. Nothing about his hand-induced releases had prepared him for her tight, wet heat. Good Lord. She was so small.
Again, he slipped his hand between them, teasing her nub, distracting her from the pain as he went deeper still. He was buried almost to the hilt when he realized she’d had no maidenhead. He remembered, then, the rumors he had heard about ladies who rode horses.
Thank God, thank God, thank God.
There would be no more pain. No more than she was already experiencing, at any rate.
She was panting now, her breath coming in erratic puffs against his neck. Her fingertips dug into his back. He started to ease out but her nails dug deeper.
“Nathaniel,” she whispered. “Do you think… Could you hold still? Just for a moment.”
He said a very bad word. “I have to move, darling. I think I might die if I don’t.” He shuddered, clinging to his control by the thinnest of threads. “Please, Alice.”
She looked up at him. Something shifted and softened in her face. It was sweet, so sweet that he was dizzy from it.
“It’s all right,” she said.
Her hands ran down his back to the hard muscles of his buttocks. She pressed him down, urging him deeper inside, raining kisses against his neck and shoulder. Her touch dissolved the last threads of his restraint. He thrust into her hard and fast, once, twice, three times.
The force of his release caused his body to shudder hard against her.
He buried his face in her neck as she stroked his hair gently. He sighed and relaxed farther into her embrace.
There was something he needed to tell her, something important, but his brain had turned to mush, and whatever it was, it slipped further and further away. Until…his thoughts ceased completely.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Love, Alice thought as her fingers idly stroked Nathaniel’s red-gold mane, was extremely inconvenient.
It wasn’t the sort of thing one could pin down. Love couldn’t be locked in a jar or shoved into some dark corner until life was less messy. It refused to be safely contained, and instead grew and grew until it pushed against the walls around her heart, cracking the bricks she had worked so hard to build there.
Yes, love was damnably inconvenient.
Especially now, because Nathaniel had fallen asleep on top of her.
Her arm was tingling as though a thousand pins were stabbing at it, but she wouldn’t wake him for the world. He was so beautiful. Sleep softened the lines of his forehead that grew deeper when he was particularly anxious. He looked peaceful and content, nestled there against her shoulder. His bronze eyelashes fanned against his cheek, where here and there was a charming freckle, the sole remnants of a childhood likely plagued by them.
God, she loved him.
It was a deeply uncomfortable feeling, almost as if she were holding something large and bulky deep inside her chest, and it didn’t quite fit. Either it was too big or she was too small—it was hard to say which. It made her feel so many contrary things. Strong and weak, brave and fearful, whole and torn. Love wasn’t just one feeling, but rather the sum of a hundred swirling emotions.
Including guilt.
Oh, heavens, the guilt.
Nathaniel wanted, more than anything in the world, to end his feud with Nicholas and mend the rift that had torn his family apart. Even attempted fratricide could not sway him from his goal. She knew this. His brother was the thing most dear to his heart…and she had taken that from him. To keep Nathaniel safe, yes, but also for her own selfish purposes. She had sent Nicholas away to India because she knew she and he could not coexist in Nathaniel’s world here in England.
She had sent Nicholas away because she wanted Nathaniel for herself.
That was not an act of love.
She had met Nicholas in secret, delivered her ultimatum, and secured his promise. Nathaniel had been given no choice in the matter.
And what would his choice have been? He could have either Nicholas for a true brother or Alice for a wife. To have both was an impossibility that even love could not overcome. Which would he have chosen? The thought was like a chill wind blowing across her heart.
She held him just a little tighter. Because she
knew.
You are mine, he had said as he entered her. But if he had truly intended to make her his, would he not have asked her the question that would have done so?
And yet, he had not asked.
Which tore her heart in a thousand small pieces.
But, ultimately, it made up her mind.
She had to tell him what she’d done, before it was too late. He could not lose his brother on her account. It would shatter her heart completely, but so be it.
With that thought, she closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, she was alone.
Chapter Fifty-Three
An hour earlier, Nathaniel had opened his eyes, looked at Alice, and known immediately what he had to do. Now, he looked down at the letter he had written.
To Mr. Nicholas Eastwood:
Dear Sir,
It appears you are returned to England. Since you did not notify our family of your arrival, I assume you do not wish me to, either. I also assume you have your reasons for your behavior, even if those reasons are very bad.
It has come to my attention that approximately two years ago, you met a young lady by the name of Adelaide Bursnell. According to Miss Adelaide’s sister, you treated her with utmost disrespect and used her terribly, causing her and her family the deepest grief.
Please confirm or deny.
Lord Nathaniel Eastwood, Viscount Abingdon
Nathaniel took the letter to Nick’s hiding place and left it propped on the table.
After luncheon, Jimmy, the footman, knocked on the library door and silently handed him a missive, written on a blank calling card. It was painfully short.
To Lord Nathaniel Eastwood, Viscount Abingdon:
Nate,
Confirmed.
Nick
The crack in Nathaniel’s heart deepened. Until this moment, he had held out hope that Nick hadn’t really done what Alice accused him of. Attempted fratricide, Nathaniel had almost come to terms with, but seduction and betrayal of Alice’s sister? It was too much.
“Is there a response, my lord?” Jimmy asked.
“Yes. Wait a moment, please.”
Twice as Wicked Page 20
