Lilly spritzed on a little perfume, gave herself a perfunctory once over in the mirror and stood. She pushed the stool back under the vanity table and eyed the lavish dark blue bed. Though well furnished, her own home did not boast such luxury. The fabrics alone were worth more than most of her furnishings. And, laid amongst them, she would be taken by Lord Hawksley.
Another shiver wracked her. Even the heat that always flowed freely beneath her skin when she thought of him could not combat her nervousness. Had she made the right decision? Beneath her chemise, her legs twitched. She could leave now, quickly, before it was too late. Forget it ever happened. Forget Lord Hawksley.
“That would not happen,” she told herself quietly.
Besides which, there was too much riding on this. Had women not made many sacrifices throughout history? Was she such a coward that she would turn away from such an opportunity? No. She squared her shoulders, aware of her naked skin brushing against the cotton. There was too much to gain from this.
Footsteps outside the door made her pulse beat a restless tempo. She gulped and turned to face it, tracing the square panels of the wood with her gaze several times. No more footsteps came. Had he changed his mind? Was it a servant? The maid had already seen to her, helping her undress and bind her hair in a simple but beautiful braid. Curls spilled artfully around her neck and face, creating an enticing picture even to her. Hopefully under the dim light of the few lit candles he would find her pleasing. It made her dull hair warmer and the constant stain on her cheeks more flattering.
The rattle of the door handle made her squeak. She forced her hands to her side and clenched them until her knuckles burned. With such slowness that it almost stilled her heart, the handle moved and the door eased open.
Lilly drew in a sharp breath that seared her lungs as Lord Hawksley stepped in. He didn’t look at her immediately, only kept his gaze dipped to the floor while he used a foot to kick the door shut. This unrefined move combined with the sight of him in black trousers and a white shirt made her stomach tumble over and over.
He took his time meeting her gaze. From her head to her feet, she tingled incessantly while he perused her, taking in each fragment it seemed. Lilly returned the favour, letting her gaze linger on the smooth flesh at his open collar and the tense strength of his forearms below his rolled shirt sleeves. The muscles in his arms flexed as he opened and closed his hands repeatedly.
To see him so informal should have relaxed her surely? But instead a tight coil of nerves wound around her insides and pulled so tight her breaths grew short and made her lightheaded.
Fearing she might swoon, she motioned to the bed. “Shall I...?”
Her words brought his unfocused gaze up to her face and he nodded stiffly. “Yes.”
The swish of her chemise almost deafened when combined with the crashing thud of her heart. How much could he see of her in the lamplight? The thin cotton of the garment likely revealed a fair amount. Her nipples pressed rebelliously against the fabric and though unable to bring herself to look at him, she felt his gaze follow her while she climbed onto the bed and lay down—waiting.
Lord Hawksley took his time coming to her side—maybe enjoying prolonging her agony. She closed her eyes and kept her hands tightly by her sides. The bed dipped and the sheets rustled. A hard thigh brushed against hers and she squeaked.
“Lilly, open your eyes.”
She forced her heavy lids open to find him lying fully next to her, propped up on one elbow so as to look down upon her. His handsome face so close made her head swim. She took in the sight of his strong nose and longed to trace it with a fingertip but her limbs refused to move. His jaw line begged to be touched too and if she glanced lower, she had a fine view down the front of his shirt. An expanse of skin beckoned to her. Had she not been so nervous, she might have given into the teasing voice that told her to do everything she wished. To touch him everywhere, to lay her lips to his warm, smooth skin.
“Lilly,” he prompted, and she drew her gaze up to meet his.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Don’t be nervous. I shall do my best to make this as easy as possible for you.”
She nodded quickly. “It’s fine. I am not a coward.”
He smirked. “I know you are not, but that doesn’t mean you should have to tolerate any more discomfort than necessary.”
She nodded again, unable to think of a response. Part of her longed for him to get it over and done with. All this waiting around was driving her to insanity.
A warm finger came up to skim her features and linger on her lips. She parted them instinctively and he startled her by dipping in to meet her tongue. Lilly licked his fingertip and found herself savouring the salty tang of his skin. He groaned and her eyes widened. Did he enjoy that?
That same fingertip left her mouth and began a journey down her neck. He brought his hand up to circle it and linger on her pulse point. Lord Hawksley took his time studying her neck before pressing a butterfly kiss to it.
“I confess to being slightly obsessed with your neck. I long to kiss and mark it as my own.”
His own? Of course, he did own her, but why did that admission not frighten her and instead stoke the fire in her belly? She heard herself let out a moan as he kissed her neck once, twice and a third time before kissing her collarbone.
Lord Hawksley inched a hand down her side, coming to rest on her waist. She flinched and the fire inside dowsed. Was she ready for this? To know a man in the most intimate way? Darkness imbued his gaze and dread curdled her belly. She had done wrong. She clenched her jaw and forced herself to remain still.
“I scare you?” he asked, the sound gritty.
“I... no... just... just...” Lilly shut her mouth and closed her eyes at how foolish she must sound. Did every woman behave like this on their wedding night? Maybe not, but this wasn’t her wedding night and Lord Hawksley wasn’t her husband.
“You don’t trust me,” he stated.
She snapped open her eyes. “I do,” she spilled out.
Did she? How odd that those words came so easily. Yet if she did not—deep down—would she have agreed to this arrangement so easily? What had really driven her into his bed? Money? Or a simple need to experience all Lord Hawksley could give her. Good God, she was more wanton than she ever imagined.
He debated her for several moments and searched her gaze. He gave a curt nod and carefully eased his hand down to her hip. Lilly tightened her muscles to prevent any more evidence of her nervousness. The hand moved lower still, grazing the outside of her thigh and moving across. His gaze never left hers as he bunched the material of her chemise in one hand and inched it higher. Cool air breezed across her calves, then her thighs and finally her heated juncture. She bit her lip and he dipped to kiss her mouth.
Nerves vanished at the touch of his lips upon hers. Twisting desire, hot and heavy, flooded her senses. The kiss remained light—almost chaste—but the taste of him reminded her of the most decadent of foods. He might have been drinking brandy as a slight warmth sat on his breath and when his tongue parted her lips and touched hers, she savoured the spiciness.
Lilly jolted when fingers met her inner thighs. A rumble of appreciation came from the marquess and though a rush of pleasure at the sound coursed through her, she snapped her legs together instinctively.
“Relax,” he soothed, peppering kisses over her lips, chin and nose.
“I am relaxed,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You’re as taut as a piano wire.”
In truth, that wire of nerves was on the verge of snapping. She focused on breathing—that was simple enough. In and out. Forcing her legs apart, Lord Hawksley wriggled his fingers against the trap she had created and she eased them wider, baring herself to him. Her chemise lay across the very tops of her thighs and if he looked down, she had no doubt he would be able to see her most private parts.
Higher, his hand climbed with gentle, soothing strokes. For a man so severe and
commanding, the tenderness surprised her but she couldn’t appreciate it fully. Not when it took every ounce of willpower to remain on the bed beside him. She became aware of a hardness pressing into her hip—his arousal, she realised. What would it look like? Would she get the chance to see? If only she knew more of lovemaking.
A fingertip caressed the crease between her thigh and her sex. She had touched herself there many times, even learned to bring herself to a peak, but never had it felt so sensitive. Hands clenched by her side, she attempted to listen to her breaths but his fingers were too distracting. They slid through her curls and finally met her sensitive folds. Lilly bucked and clamped her legs together once more.
Lord Hawksley narrowed his gaze at her. “Relax,” he told her again. “I need to prepare you. I can’t make this good for you unless you let me touch you.”
“Forgive me,” she whispered. “I-I...”
Any excuses died on her tongue. She had none but that she was inexperienced. He had likely bedded women of great knowledge and skill. She would pale in comparison. What had she been thinking? He would likely take her and cast her aside once he realised how poor a bed companion she was.
His dark eyes softened. “Don’t apologise, damn it. Just trust me.”
“Yes, my lord,” she replied, throat so tight with apprehension the words were barely audible even to her.
“Evan,” he prompted through gritted teeth and began to circle her sex with one finger.
He found that spot that always brought her the best pleasure and she allowed herself a moan and closed her eyes. Maybe if she pretended it was just her in her bed alone she could relax. But his fingers were too strong and clever to be hers. She had thought herself adept at bringing pleasure but Lord Hawksley was a virtuoso of it, it seemed.
Hot jealousy spiked through her as she imagined all the other women who had been in this bed receiving his attentions. How many others had there been?
She gripped the sheets as swirling pleasure gathered between her thighs. Eyes still tightly shut, she wriggled against his fingertips. It grew to be too much, became too extreme—how was she to bear it? Fear, like a bird trapped, fluttered in her chest.
“Stop!” she begged.
He froze and drew back.
“Please, it is too...” She didn’t know how to describe it. She had never felt the likes of it before. Lilly saw his jaw work as he considered her. She feared he intended to leave her so she curled her hands over his shoulders. “Will you not kiss me?”
Kissing, she could tolerate.
“Of course.”
He dipped to kiss her, hand moving away from between her thighs. His lips swept over hers with more tenderness than she thought him capable of. She missed the touch of his tongue but didn’t want to anger or upset him.
Lilly clutched his shoulders and his muscles flexed against her palms. Was she brave enough to do anything more? She always thought of herself as a bold woman but clearly, when it came to Lord Hawksley, he melted away her resolve.
Making the decision for her, he shifted back and began to unbutton his shirt. A gnawing ache sat low in her belly but her stiff body refused to let her do anything other than gape as he revealed his torso to her. The golden hue from the lamp enhanced his tanned colouring. Did he spend time out of doors shirtless to gain that colour? Her mouth dried when he flung the shirt aside and set to work on his trousers. The ripples in his stomach flexed. She’d been aware of a strong body beneath those clothes but had no clue as to the effect it would have upon her. Michelangelo’s David could not compare to Lord Hawksley. Lilly had no way of knowing, but she suspected not many men were built like this.
The strange urge to taste those ripples struck but flew from her mind when he slipped off his trousers and drawers. Lilly barely masked a startled sound. Michelangelo had never crafted anything that looked like that either.
That was meant to go inside her? She put a hand to her mouth.
“I hope, Miss Claremont, you are not laughing.”
Her eyes widened but she saw a grin tease his lips. “No, of course not. It is... it is very large,” she hissed.
He let out a depreciative chuckle. “You’re good for a man’s self-esteem, Lilly.” Lying back down next to her, he tugged on her chemise. “Shall we take this off?”
Lilly clamped her hands over herself. “No! I...”
Humiliation burned her cheeks. She was going about this all wrong, she knew, but he was so astounding. How was she to measure up with her dull hair and merely pretty looks? He would surely take one look at her and send her from his bed. She had made it this far, she couldn’t have him send her away now.
Lord Hawksley released a long breath. “Very well. Keep it on.”
“Are you... are you going to do it now?”
“Lord, Lilly, I know you are nervous but you’re not making this any easier.”
“I’m sorry.” Lilly fought the heat burning her eyes and closed them lest tears spill.
“And stop apologising,” he snapped.
She felt him settle between her legs and his manhood brushed her folds. Sheets bunched tightly in her hands, she braced herself. He made no moves, only came down to kiss her. He scattered kisses down her neck and to her shoulder where her chemise slipped down. Lilly gasped as a pleasant tingle shimmered through her. Lord Hawksley kept pressing kisses to her neck—up and down and then behind her ear until her legs dropped to the side.
“This may hurt a little,” he warned and buried his head against her neck. His hot breaths teased her skin while he pressed forward.
Instinctively, Lilly tensed, even as she commanded her body to do otherwise. At first she thought it might not hurt but he kept pushing and the sharp sting made her cry out. Lord Hawksley paused, then continued invading her body. Tears sprang from behind her closed eyelids and she held her breath.
“Lord, so tight,” he whispered harshly.
Lilly did not know if that was a good thing. He remained still on top of her and slowly the pain eased. When he finally moved, her sex still ached but she let out a breath when she realised the sharp pain had gone.
“I cannot—” He groaned and rocked into her, using one hand to hitch a leg around his waist. “Damnation, so tight.”
His movements increased in intensity. Lilly released the bedding to clutch his shoulders and let him pound into her. She had no idea how to respond. Her sex was still sore, her body ached all over from tension but a warm, budding sensation uncoiled in her every time his shaft slid against her tender flesh, completely unlike when she brought herself pleasure.
It built and she heard her own moans—faint and far away as if she were no longer in control of her body. Lilly dug her nails into Lord Hawksley’s muscles.
“Oh, Lord Hawksley,” she cried.
“Evan,” he said tightly.
“Evan,” she said on a breath.
With a grunt, she felt him tense between her thighs and his great body shuddered. The unfurling sensation low in her belly dissipated as soon as he eased out of her and she opened her eyes when his seed hit her inner thigh. Evan tilted his head back and milked himself before rolling away.
Disappointment and shame heated her cheeks. Chemise tangled around her waist, she knew she was on display but couldn’t bring herself to move. She flinched when a damp cloth touched her skin.
“Keep still,” he commanded and proceeded to clean her up.
Lilly suffered the embarrassment of him cleaning her with tightly clenched teeth and she stared at the ornate ceiling above. With all the gentleness of a mother tending to a child, he pulled down her chemise and tucked the blankets about her before dressing. He left his shirt open but made it clear he had no intention of staying. Her heart throbbed painfully and her vision clouded. She had displeased him. Giving up her innocence had been for nothing. He would send her away, she just knew it, and she would have nothing to show for it.
“I shall let you rest,” he said quietly, standing at the end of the bed.
>
She nodded but didn’t respond. It might come out a foolish blubber if she tried. Instead, she curled onto her side and waited for him to leave. The door clicked shut and she drew in a shuddery breath. That was it, she supposed. On the morrow, he would likely ask her to leave.
Chapter Eleven
Evan quickly tucked the letter he had been reading into his jacket pocket as Lilly entered the dining room. A trip to London would be called for soon. He hadn’t planned to be there for another week but it seemed his accountant needed to meet with him.
A tiny cough from her drew his attention away from his problems in London. She stood by the door and observed as he buttered some toast.
“Will you not sit?”
Hands behind her back, she shifted uneasily. “I... I am not all that hungry.”
Evan narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you tired? Unwell?”
Dark shadows haunted the pale skin under her eyes and they looked a little red. Damnation, had she been crying? Pain fisted his heart. He had never meant to make the woman cry. He’d thought leaving her was the best option—she clearly did not want him to touch her further.
“No! No, I am fine. Just... I have packed my belongings. I see no reason to delay—”
“Delay?” He put down the toast. “Delay what?”
“My leaving,” she muttered, staring at her feet.
He perused her dress, a pale green thing that flattered her slender waist and full breasts but didn’t bring out the colour of her eyes properly. He frowned. Did she always dress to match the room on purpose? Against the grey and green wallpaper, she almost blended in. Soon he would have her dressed in newer fashions. If he could persuade her to stay. His terrible attempts at trying to be gentle had obviously frightened her.
Evan didn’t want her to leave. He remained composed but the desire to jump up and demand she stay made his feet twitch. “And where shall you go?”
“Home.” She lifted her chin.
He didn’t know if the cousin had arranged to leave her house empty now he had agreed to write off the debt but if she left, their deal would be broken.
Tempting His Mistress Page 9
