The Wedding Bargain

by Victoria Alexander

  He slipped his mouth from hers and sat up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Her eyes were glazed with desire.

  “We should stop, Hellion. Now.” His voice was a dry and raspy whisper.

  “Should we?” She drew a ragged breath and smiled. “Why?”

  “Because I won't be able to in another moment.”

  “Good,” She murmured.

  He closed his eyes willing a semblance of control to his rebellious body. She laid a hand on his stomach and trailed her fingertips in a wide circle. His eyes shot open and he sucked in a sharp breath. Her hand drifted lower to the top of his breeches and he knew he was lost.

  He moved over her, his knees straddling her legs. Her chest rose and fell with short hard breaths. He lowered himself, stretching his legs along either side of hers, entrapping them. He slid her shirt up to reveal smooth, creamy flesh and he wondered how long his restraint would last. His lips brushed across her breast and he traced it with his tongue. She started and arched upward beneath him, then fell back. He held the hard nipple gently between his teeth and flicked it until she moaned and her hands grabbed at his back. Slowly he whispered kisses from one breast to the other, then took it in his mouth.

  “Max, oh, Max.” She moaned and he rolled to lay beside her and meet her lips with his, her mouth now demanding and insistent. He responded in kind, caressing her breasts with a rough hunger, and she pressed closer against him. Her mouth was everywhere at once, tasting his neck, his shoulders. Her fingers explored his chest and drifted tentatively over his stomach. He held his breath. Her hand moved lower and her fingers brushed against his hard arousal and hesitated, as if she was unsure of what he wanted or what she wanted.

  He mirrored her movements, running his hand over the plane of her stomach covered by the fabric of her breeches and down to the juncture between her thighs. Her legs pressed tightly together and he eased his fingers between them to feel her damp heat, stroking her until she groaned and her legs fell open. His fingers grazed the material, now wet and molded against her like a protective skin, and her hips moved to meet the pressure of his hand.

  “Pandora.” He gasped and pulled away, struggling to regain his composure. She gazed up at him, her lips slightly swollen, her hair disheveled and wild, her eyes sparked with passion. He wanted her as he'd never wanted any woman before. Bloody hell. This business of being her hero was damned difficult. Doing the heroic thing took more effort than he ever dreamed possible. Still, a hero would not take unfair advantage of the woman he loved.

  “It's not too late to stop.”

  Chapter 19

  A Tactical Error

  “Stop? You've suggested that once.” She propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him in disbelief. “Why would you want to stop?”

  He exhaled a hard breath. “I don't particularly want to stop. I simply realized--”

  “Are you going to win this game?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Then I shall be your wife?”

  He nodded slowly. “That's my intention.”

  She studied him for a long moment. His hair was rumpled and his bare chest heaved with every breath. His eyes were dark with desire, molten lead, smoldering with promise. Could simple lust make a man's eyes look like that? Her pulse pounded. No. There was much more in his gaze than physical need. Her heart soared. “Would you like to know my intention, Max?”

  “Your intention?”

  “Um-hum.” She wanted him, wanted this, regardless of the consequences, the future. Win or lose, she knew there would never be anyone in her life she'd love the way she loved him if she ever loved again at all. And any man who looked at her the way he did was surely in love as well. She leaned forward and pulled off one of her half boots, then the other. “My heartfelt intention?”

  “Heartfelt?”

  She scrambled to stand and held her hand out to him. He grabbed it and pulled himself to his feet. She pressed herself against him and splayed her hands across his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. “You remember when I thought you were going to ravish me and you didn't?”

  He nodded.

  “Well.” She leaned forward and flicked her tongue across his flat nipple and he jumped beneath her touch. “I was rather disappointed.” She struggled to keep her voice clam. How could she be so wanton?

  He swallowed hard. “You were?”

  “Weren't you?”

  “Oh, yes.” He drew a deep shuddering breath.

  “Then…” She gazed into his eyes and knew there was no more need for words.

  He pulled her shirt up and over her head, then skimmed his hands along her sides to her breeches and pushed them down over her hips and they fell to puddle around her feet. She resisted the urge to cover herself with her hands and kept her gaze locked on his. He bent and pulled off his boots, then swiftly removed his breeches. She wanted to look at him, all of him, but she couldn't bring herself to drop her gaze and instead stared into his eyes. He pulled her to him and she felt him hard and hot between her legs. Her knees weakened and she molded against him, tilting her head back to greet his lips with her own.

  He kissed her with a greed that swept away her doubts and her fears and she met his hunger and returned it in kind. She wanted, no needed, to taste his lips, his throat, his arms. To feel the muscles of his chest, his back, his buttocks beneath her hands. Need building to a frenzy of taste and touch and desire.

  He held her tight and lowered her to the straw, his flesh scorching hers. She ran her hands along his sides and over his stomach and lower still to grasp his arousal, at once as soft as velvet and hard as iron.

  He groaned. “Good God, Hellion.”

  His hand slipped between her legs and his fingers, wet and slick with her own desire, caressed her lightly. She held her breath, tense with anticipation. The pressure of his hand increased and she bit her lip to keep from whimpering at the unimagined pleasure. Everything around her vanished and she existed only in the sensation spiraling from his caress, enveloped in an exquisite haze of yearning. She throbbed against his touch and wondered that she could survive such an awesome state of ever-tightening tension. Surely she would explode into a million pieces.

  Abruptly he stopped and before she could protest, rolled over to hover above her. He reached down and guided himself to nudge, gently at first, then slowly he slid into her.

  She gasped. “Max?”

  He paused. “Yes?”

  “You do know I have never done this before?”

  He gazed into her eyes. “I know.”

  “Well, just as long as you know…”

  He nuzzled her neck and feathered kisses along the line of her jaw. He pushed deeper into her, filling her, a feeling at once odd and amazing, and continued until he hit the barrier of her maidenhood. “Hellion, I'm afraid…I don't want to hurt you.”

  She knew what to expect, knew it was inevitable, but they'd come too far to stop. And stopping was the last thing she wanted. Her muscles tensed. “Go on, Max. Please.”

  He moved gently, sliding out then in again. His mouth covered hers, his tongue seeking, probing. Her excitement rose. Without warning he thrust hard and buried himself deep inside her. A sharp pain stabbed through her and she cried out. “Max, no! Stop. Now.”

  “Wait, Hellion,” he murmured against her neck. “Patience. Just wait. The pain will pass.”

  He moved slowly, his thrusts smooth and deliberate, and she gritted her teeth against the sting. It probably wouldn't be in the spirit of the game to stop at this point, although for a moment she thought the enjoyment that had preceded this was quite enough. Still, it wasn't as bad as it had been before. Rather bitter-sweet, actually, mingled with lovely sensations. Her discomfort eased, replaced by a growing tension. Tentatively she moved her hips to match his. His rhythm increased. Her pleasure heightened.

  She gripped his shoulders tightly and arched upward to meet him, losing herself in a rapture she'd never suspected. His heart poun
ded against hers. Her body throbbed against his. She was caught in an ever-faster whirlpool of ecstasy and sensual awareness, and once more she wondered if she would indeed live through the sheer joy that encompassed her, and knowing she no longer cared. Nothing mattered except here and now and Max.

  Without warning, something inside her burst, and waves of extraordinary delight washed through her, stealing her breath and her mind and her soul. Max held her tight and his body shuddered against hers. And for an instant or an eternity it was as if they were suspended together in one glorious never ending moment that defied time and distance and substance.

  She was his and he was hers and nothing would ever be the same again.

  “I never imagined.” She buried her head in his shoulder and giggled. “Oh, Max, that was…”

  “Perfect?” he whispered, and drew her closer against him.

  “Perfect.” She sighed. His heart soared. She loved him. She had to. It was in every look, every kiss, every touch.

  “So,” he nibbled on her shoulder, “can we consider the stables cleaned?”

  She lifted her head and grinned, the gleam in her eyes stopping his heart. “I believe you more than earned that point.”

  He brushed his lips across her forehead.

  “Max,” she snuggled against him. “What are you thinking?”

  “I'm thinking this straw is damned uncomfortable.”

  She laughed. “What else?”

  “I'm thinking what a lucky man I am,” he said softly.

  “What else?”

  “I'm thinking I'm bloody grateful this game is at an end.”

  She drew back and a frown creased her forehead. “At an end?”

  “It's pointless to continue.”

  “Pointless?” Her voice was even but there was an odd look in her eye.

  “Of course. You have to marry me now.”

  “I have to marry you?” she said slowly.

  “Certainly. There is no other choice.”

  She stared for a long moment. “And that's what you're thinking? That's all you're thinking?”

  “Well,” his mind raced. What else should he be thinking? Even as he spoke he knew his answer was wrong. “Yes?”

  “I see.” She struggled to sit upright, grabbed her shirt and held it against her, her manner reserved and cool. “Tell me, Max, why do I have to marry you now?”

  “Because you're ruined.” He couldn't hold back a grin. “I ruined you.”

  “I don't particularly feel ruined.”

  He pulled his brows together. Surely she understood the end result of their lovemaking? “Well, you are. The only way to salvage your honor is with marriage.”

  “My honor is just fine, thank you,” she said sharply. “Now, if you would be so good as to turn around.”

  “Very well, but it's a bit late to be overly modest, don't you think?” He pulled himself to his feet and turned his back to her. What on earth had gotten into the woman?

  “And do get dressed.”

  He collected his clothes and pulled on his breeches. He could hear her dressing behind him. “Pandora?” No response. “You do understand, marriage is inevitable now.”

  “I understand no such thing.” Her voice was cool and hard. “If you think you are going to get what you want simply with a mere dalliance in the stables--”

  “Dalliance?” He jerked his shirt on over his head and swiveled to face her. “Is that what you think this was?”

  “What do you think it was?”

  Anger and confusion battled within him. “Up until now I thought it was what you wanted. I know it was what I wanted.”

  “It's one thing to seduce--”

  He snorted. “Seduce? I'd scarcely call you seduced.”

  Her blue eyes sparked with anger. “--To seduce the women in my family to support, no, conspire with you to earn points in the most absurd ways possible, but quite another to do”--she waved her arms in a wide, encompassing gesture--“to do--”

  “To do what?” He narrowed his eyes.

  “To do…this simply to circumvent the rest of the game and force me to marry you. It's beyond belief.”

  He stared, choosing his words with care. “You think that's why I did, why we did, this?”

  “Do you deny it?”

  Certainly the idea had dawned on him, but not until afterward. He hesitated for the merest second but it was enough.

  “I thought as much.” She tossed her dark hair back with an angry jerk of her head. She was completely dressed now, and turned on her heel and stalked toward the door. “You have this point, my lord, but you still have three more to go, and time is running out. Do not expect the rest of them to be this easy.”

  “Easy? Hah!” He glared at her retreating figure. “I'll be picking straw out of my backside for the rest of my life.”

  “It's the least you deserve!” She swiveled back to face him. Her eyes glistened with tears.

  “Bargain or no bargain, I should rather have my still beating heart ripped out of my chest by giant vultures before I would ever, ever marry you! And one more thing. I was wrong when I said you were a bloody fine kisser.”

  “You seemed to enjoy it a few minutes ago,” he snapped.

  “A few minutes ago I was an inexperienced virgin. Now that I have the vantage point of a ruined woman, it's easy to see I was mistaken.” She whirled and strode out the door.

  “I've never had a complaint before. That was unworthy of you, Hellion,” he yelled after her. “And damned inaccurate, too!”

  What a lunatic the woman was. Insulting, of all things, his ability to kiss. She certainly hadn't indicated she was not enjoying every single kiss, every caress, everything. He freely admitted he had no humility whatsoever when it came to his skills with women. He knew what he was doing whether it was kissing or making love…

  Love? He groaned aloud. That was it. He hadn't told her he loved her. This was the perfect opportunity and it had slipped right passed him.

  She was hurt and how could he blame her? He really was an insensitive, arrogant beast. He would have to make it up to her. Tonight. Sweep her off her feet and declare his love once and for all. After this morning he needn't worry about her response. He was confident she shared his feelings.

  He started toward the house and a sharp pain stabbed him right below his left buttocks. He stopped and shifted the fabric of his breeches but the jabbing discomfort remained. He'd have to endure it until he got back to his rooms.

  Bloody hell. It was Pandora's parting curse, no doubt.

  He probably would be picking straw out of his backside forever.

  “And then of course, I mentioned what a total fool she'd been for ever…”

  The correct responses tripped off Pandora's lips, her polite smile never wavering, but if anyone had asked her directly what the topic of conversation was in the group of guests she'd joined at her grandmother's ball, she would have had no idea. Her presence here was a protection of sorts. An excellent way to hide while still in plain sight.

  She'd never hidden from anything, but she wanted to hide now. From the world, and most of all, from herself. Now that she was a ruined woman. Not that she felt like a ruined woman, although she had no idea what she was expected to feel like, but she definitely wasn't her usual self. Her thoughts were chaotic and her emotions raw. Still, that had little to do with the act itself, only its aftermath.

  She still couldn't quite believe it. By the gods, she'd lost her virtue. No, not lost it as she'd misplace a glove or a fan. She'd tossed it away, thrown it as hard and as far as she could, and with a great deal of enthusiasm in the process.

  It was perhaps the most wonderful experience she'd ever had or probably would ever have again. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined what being in Max's arms would really mean.

  “Miss Effington?”

  Her attention jerked to the faces staring at her expectantly. Any other time she would have recovered her composure without hesitation, but tonight she
couldn't seem to muster the effort such a deception required.

  “Please excuse me,” she said with an apologetic smile. I've squandered my virtue on a man I thought loved me only to discover he simply wished to force me into marriage, and I have no desire at this moment to engage in pointless drivel with people I barely know. “I've just remembered something I must attend to.”

  She nodded politely and stepped away, pasting a purposeful expression on her face.

  She made her way through the crush of guests and barely noted greetings directed to her. Even when Georgina's daughters, Cassandra and Philadelphia, her cousins closest to her own age, wanted to speak with her, she begged off. All they wished to talk about was Max, and she had no desire to discuss him, even if he was the only thing on her mind.

  She should have known better. Max wanted to win. Nothing else mattered to him.

  And dear Lord, how the realization hurt. She'd never imagined such pain, never suspected anyone could endure suffering like this and still live. It was as if her heart really had been ripped from her chest. The hot ache of tears stung her throat and she ruthlessly forced them away. Without thinking, she raised her chin. She would not shed a single tear. Not here. Not in public. Oh certainly, she had cried in the privacy of her bath, wept until she thought there was nothing left. Obviously, she was wrong.

  Just how long would this anguish last? How long until she regained her usual mood and manner? Or would she ever be the same again?

  She accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sipped at it thoughtfully. Tears too were a new experience for her. She had never cried because of a man before and could not remember the last time she had cried at all. Love was indeed accompanied by a vast variety of heretofore unknown and unpleasant emotions: awkwardness, panic, jealousy, and now pain.

  Pandora cast her gaze over the crowded ballroom. She hadn't spotted Max yet and hoped he had done the honorable thing and returned to London. Of course he would never do that. His conquest of her was the ultimate victory in their game and he would not leave without claiming his prize.