When the Scoundrel Sins

by Anna Harrington

  “Do you know what happens between men and women?” His breath had grown ragged, yet he still guided her fingers in her slow strokes.

  She gave a jerky nod. “Like how you…caressed me in the pond, except…”

  “Except with this,” he finished, squeezing her fingers gently as they encircled his thick girth. “This part of me slides inside you.”

  Belle knew she should have been embarrassed by that, but she wasn’t. She didn’t even blush. This was Quinn, and she would never be self-conscious with him. His patience with her, his willingness to put her at ease— Surely, there was some kind of caring behind that. There had to be. Because she certainly cared for him.

  “I know,” she breathed, so softly that the sound was nearly lost against the silence of the night surrounding them. “I’ve read about it.”

  He grinned at her. “Of course you did.”

  “But the books were wrong.” They had to be. To do that when he was so big— “I don’t think it’s possible.”

  “Trust me,” he murmured. “It’s very possible.”

  “But you’re huge!”

  He laughed, a rich and throaty sound that filled her with warmth, as his arms went around her and hugged her to him. When he kissed her again, this time sucking softly at her bottom lip as he retreated, she suspected she’d said the best thing in the world to him…but she had no idea why that should please him so, when she’d only pointed out why they’d have to stop.

  “It will hurt the first time,” he explained, tenderly stroking his fingertips over her cheek. “I can’t prevent that.”

  She drew a deep breath and nodded, knowing that he would never intentionally hurt her.

  “But I can prevent getting you with child.”

  As he reached to retrieve something from his jacket breast pocket, she felt a stab of panic sweep through her. Getting with child? She hadn’t considered—but Quinn had, and she realized again how much she could trust him to protect her.

  “It’s not as nice, I’ll admit.” He gently nudged her fingers away from him. In the shadows, she couldn’t see what he was doing, but when he brought her hand back to him, she felt a soft sheath covering his length, tied close to his body with a tiny ribbon. “But it’s necessary. All right?”

  Another jerky nod, although she wasn’t certain exactly what she was agreeing to. But if Quinn thought it was needed…She sighed and trailed her fingers teasingly over his length just as she’d done earlier, careful not to knock the sheath from its place.

  “Good,” he growled and swooped his head down to plunder her mouth, this kiss hot and openmouthed, hungry and full of wanton invitation. “Very good.” Her hand tightened around him, and he groaned. “And oh so wicked.”

  “I’m not wicked,” she protested against his mouth.

  “You are. A wicked angel.” With a smile against her lips, he rested his hands on her knees. “You’re a walking contradiction, Annabelle.”

  His hands slid slowly upward, pulling her skirt carefully up along her thighs. With each little kiss he leaned in to take, he gently rocked her back and forth, freeing the material from beneath her until her dress lay bunched around her waist.

  “An alluring, luscious contradiction…” He tenderly kissed her brow, and she closed her eyes with a soft sigh. “All independence and strength on the outside, so soft and sweet beneath.”

  He gently parted her legs and stepped between her thighs. He stood so close now that the heat of his bare chest warmed her breasts, and the sprinkling of golden hair tickled at her nipples. Excitement and nervousness warred within her. Goose bumps sprouted across her skin with a shiver as his hands caressed up her inner thighs, stroking over the bare flesh above her stockings, higher and higher—

  When he touched her folds, she jumped.

  “Shh,” he whispered at her temple. “Relax, Belle.”

  “I—I am r-relaxed.”

  He chuckled, the deep sound rumbling into her. As one hand moved up to possessively cup her breast, he lightly stroked his fingers against her folds with the other. “You are so beautiful, yet you don’t realize how much,” he whispered. His words heated through her nearly as much as his fingers as he continued to stroke against her, and she bit her lip against the whimper of need that rose from her throat. “And you have no idea how very special this is for me, to be with you.”

  She wasn’t naïve enough to believe him. “You’ve been with dozens of women. I’m not special.”

  “Look at me, Belle,” he ordered, and she opened her eyes. His gaze met hers in the dark shadows. “You are special to me…this bluestocking who wears men’s clothes and cheats at chess.”

  When she opened her mouth to bite out an angry retort, he slipped his finger inside her tight warmth, and the rejoinder melted into a low moan of pleasure as he slid in and out of her slippery core. Oh, what a wicked, wicked man!

  She trembled helplessly as the undeniable ache inside her grew. So intense and wonderful that it stole her breath away, forcing her to bury her face against his neck and breathe in soft pants.

  “I have been drawn to you since the first time we kissed,” he murmured, continuing his tantalizing strokes inside her. “And contrary to what you may believe about me…”

  A moaning gasp tore from her as his fingers gave a swirling, deep plunge inside her and his thumb flicked across the little bead buried at the top of her folds. She knew what came next because of what he’d done to her in the pond, how the pleasure would pulse through her in wonderful, breathtaking waves. She held her breath in sweet anticipation—

  Instead, he withdrew from her. A whimper of utter desolation crossed her lips at the sudden loss of him.

  “I’ve never taken a woman’s virginity before,” he finished quietly.

  As her arousal-fogged brain tried to process that soft admission, she felt him reach between them, to position himself at her center and nestle his sheathed tip against her ready folds. His large hands encircled her waist.

  “You, Annabelle,” he murmured as he pressed his hips toward hers and the first inch of his manhood sank inside her, “are very special.”

  She trembled nervously as he slowly slid farther inside her, his hands on her hips drawing her against him even as he shifted forward to sink deeper between her thighs. Her body stretched to accommodate his thick girth as if she were made to fit him.

  Inch by slow inch, careful not to hurt her, he gently slid himself deeper until his arms encircled her and her breasts pressed flat against his hard chest. He whispered her name, and the last traces of nervousness and embarrassment vanished from her, leaving only the certainty that this moment was right. Because of Quinn.

  “Beautiful Belle,” he whispered hoarsely, his shoulders tense beneath her fingertips and his body shaking with restraint as he held himself still inside her, not yet stroking her the way her body craved. The way she needed him to move inside her.

  She writhed against him. “Quinn, please.”

  With a deep groan, he stepped forward as he pulled her hips toward him, thrusting through her resistance and plunging himself inside her tight warmth to the hilt.

  She cried out at the sharp pinch. But within seconds the pain was gone, leaving only the wonderfully strange sensation of her body stretched wide around his, welcoming his strength and the precious security of having him close to her, until they were one.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered against her temple, his voice hoarse with concern and arousal.

  She nodded, unable to speak around the acute disappointment that swept through her that this was what making love was all about. Not exactly uncomfortable, yet not the wonderful pleasures he’d given her before.

  But when he finally moved against her, each shift of his hips came as a delectable stroke inside her.

  She moaned softly. Oh, the sensation was wonderful! Simply heavenly. She’d anticipated the same soft, fluttering strokes he’d given her with his fingers, but this was so much better, so much more. Each smoot
h retreat from her warmth came as a wicked tickle, each returning plunge an electric shiver.

  Happiness swelled inside her. This was what her body had craved from the first time his lips had touched hers, this amazing physical joining that brought both breathtaking pleasure and trembling vulnerability. Even six years ago when he’d first kissed her, when she didn’t know anything about the intimacies men and women shared, a secret part of her had longed for exactly this. With him.

  She arched herself into his hard body, achingly whispering his name. Closer…she wanted him even closer.

  “Wrap your legs around me, Annabelle,” he instructed, not ceasing in his smooth rocking. Each little stroke inside her now came with a swirl of his hips that sent tingles shooting out to the ends of her fingers and toes. She did as he asked and raised her legs, locking her ankles together at the small of his back.

  But immediately, she realized she couldn’t move, not sitting perched at the edge of the wall. A frustrated whimper rose from her. Knowing what she needed, he lowered her onto her back and followed down on top of her, until his body covered hers.

  In this new position, with the heavy weight of him pressed deliciously down on her pelvis and her thighs held open wide around the cradle of his hips, his movements changed. No longer giving the rocking strokes of before, he now thrust hard and deep inside her, each plunge shooting an intense shiver through her.

  Squeezed between his warm body above her and the cold rock beneath, she gave over to the pulsating ache he flamed at her core, to the quivering tightening of her intimate lips around his thick manhood. Unable to remain still, she arched herself into his thrust.

  He sucked in a mouthful of air through clamped teeth. “Damnation, woman,” he muttered in an appreciative warning, his voice husky. “Keep doing that, and—”

  “And what?” This time when she arched against him, longer and harder than before, an animal-like growl tore from him.

  “This.” He ducked his head and captured her breast in his mouth. Even as he continued to stroke between her thighs, he took her nipple deep inside his mouth and sucked hard in time to his relentless thrusts.

  She gasped as flames licked at the backs of her knees. Every stroke of his body into hers only tightened her insides, like a coil ready to spring.

  Now…she had to move now. Unlocking her ankles and lowering her legs, she planted the soles of her slippers firmly against the rock beneath her and pushed. Her hips rose up against his, audaciously lifting to meet each hard thrust. The movement brought him deliciously deeper inside her, yet that only temporarily eased the tension mounting within her. When it returned, it arrived with the intensity of a tidal wave, and she wrapped her body around his and held on for dear life.

  She cried out his name as the tension broke inside her. Quinn smothered her mouth with his, to drink in her cry as a liquid heat pulsed out through her fingers and toes, engulfing her in its warmth. Her body quivered uncontrollably around his, and at that moment, she wanted nothing more than for him to become part of her forever.

  Seconds later, the muscles in his back tensed beneath her fingertips, and she heard a low groan swell up from him as his own release came. He shuddered violently as his thighs strained against hers, then his body went limp. He rested his forehead on her bare shoulder and fought to regain his stolen breath.

  Neither of them moved, and she was glad for it, because she wanted to stay right there in the protective strength of his arms, with the pulse of his heart beating so hard that it echoed within her. She was certain her own heart beat just as hard. How could it not? What he’d done with her was simply astonishing in its actions and utterly blissful in its wanton pleasures, and she’d never felt happier in her life.

  At that moment, still wrapped tightly within his embrace, she was free.

  Then he slowly shifted away from her, reluctantly sliding himself from her warmth, and she had no choice but to let him slip from her arms. He removed the clever little sheath, then buttoned up his trousers and reached down for the discarded cravat at his feet.

  He leaned over her as she still lay draped across the stones, utterly satiated and relaxed, and placed a soft kiss to her lips. “Hold still. You’ve bled a little,” he explained with a touch of embarrassment, gently stroking the silk between her legs to clean her. “We can’t risk staining your dress.”

  But the soft caress of the smooth, cool silk brushing against her sensitized folds sent a new shiver of pulsing arousal through her. A sighing moan escaped her.

  He grinned against her lips and murmured, “Insatiable.”

  She laughed, certain she was. But only for him.

  When he finished and moved away to dress, she sat up and winced at the sharp pain. She would have bruises on her bottom and on the backs of her legs from the stone wall, but she simply didn’t care. Tonight had been wonderful, and she would never regret it. Resisting the urge to seduce him into doing all those deliciously wicked things all over again—for now, anyway—she pulled up her bodice and carefully wiggled down her skirt.

  He returned to her, his waistcoat hanging open and his neck rakishly bare. Her breath caught in her throat. Goodness. Even half-dressed and rumpled, he’d never been more breathtaking.

  “Bluebell,” he murmured as he smiled at her through the shadows, such a self-satisfied grin that she couldn’t help but smile back. She didn’t want to think about what lay ahead for them. At that moment, with her body still warm and pulsing with pleasure from his, she refused to think about anything past tonight.

  He gathered her into his arms and held her close for a precious moment more, just long enough for her to rest her cheek against his shoulder and breathe deep the familiar scent of him, now deliciously tinged with the musky aroma of sex. Then he gently helped her to the ground, fastened up her dress, and finished straightening her skirts and bodice, making certain no trace of what they’d done was visible.

  His careful attention made her heart ache. He cared about her, she was certain of it. This tender act proved it. Perhaps he would never love her, but at least she knew she mattered to him, if only in this small way.

  When she moved to step away, he encircled her in his arms and pulled her back against him.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he insisted gently, his cheek nuzzling the side of her neck. “I want to hold you a bit longer.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, sighing deeply, so happy and at peace within the circle of his arms.

  “Are you all right?” he murmured.

  She smiled. “I’m wonderful.”

  “Yes.” His lips smiled against her ear. “You certainly are.”

  An easy, happy laugh fell from her lips. Only Quinn could make her laugh at a moment like this!

  He placed a kiss against her shoulder and murmured, “I didn’t expect for that to happen, you know. Not here, not like that.”

  “You didn’t?” She stiffened, her body flashing with sudden apprehension. Had she made a horrible mistake?

  “Oh, I wanted you all right,” he drawled wolfishly. “From the moment I arrived here. That first evening when I found you swimming in the pond, I wanted to jump in after you and have my way with you.”

  She laughed.

  “Repeatedly,” he growled.

  More laughter poured from her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. She squeezed her arms over his as he held her. Nothing else in the world existed at that moment except for Quinn and the cocooning shadows of the ruins, except for the strong beat of his heart against her back.

  “But you should have had roses and wine, satin sheets, and a down bed,” he added with regret. “It should have been something special that you’ll never forget.”

  She drew a deep breath and admitted, “Six years.”

  In puzzled surprise, he lifted his mouth from her shoulder. “That’s a bit exact for forgetting, don’t you think?”

  “No, goose!” She laughed. “You kissed me for the first time six years ago,
and I haven’t forgotten it.” Not the rakish way he’d looked in his formal evening clothes, not the scent of the roses or the way the music wafted faintly through the dark gardens, not the way he’d kissed her so breathlessly…not the way he’d created that same intense longing inside her that he’d finally satisfied tonight. “So if I can remember one little kiss for six years, then how could I ever forget tonight?”

  “Belle,” he whispered, tenderness lacing his hoarse voice.

  He turned her in his arms and cupped her face against his palm as he lowered his head to kiss her. The moment was bittersweet, so much so that she ached with it.

  He broke the kiss, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him close, not wanting this moment to end so soon. Although she knew they only had tonight, she would have gladly remained right there in his arms forever.

  Then he stiffened, not so much that anyone else would have noticed. But Belle did. She now noticed everything about him, so attuned had she become to this man. He asked quietly, “You’ll make the announcement tonight, then?”

  Confusion mingled with the satiated pleasure fogging her mind. She blinked. “Pardon?”

  “When we return to the party.” He inhaled a deep breath of resolve. “You’ll announce that we’re engaged. That I’m the man you’re going to marry.”

  The realization of what he was saying—and why—spilled over her like icy water, instantly chilling the blossoming warmth inside her. Slowly, she loosened her arms around his neck and lowered herself back until she could look up into his face, which had grown suddenly grim.

  Far too grim for a man who had just made love to the woman he wanted to marry.

  The happiness inside her vanished, the loss of it pricking like petals ripped from a flower. She pressed in a trembling whisper, “But you refused before.”

  “I also promised to protect you, and now it’s the only way to save Glenarvon.” He glanced away guiltily. “I also just ruined you.”

  She leaned back against the rock for support as swift desolation sliced into her. “You made love to me,” she corrected softly.