One Naughty Night2

by Laurel McKee

  “Aidan is not an evil ogre, is he?” Isabel said. “Even though he is a Huntington.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “And I am sure his brother is not either. All of that family business happened so long ago. Why can’t Brendan and Dominic just forget it?”

  “Because they’re proud, I suppose,” Lily answered. “They can’t help but resent the thought that their rightful place in the world was stolen.”

  “Well, that doesn’t mean I have to be so unreasonable,” Isabel said. She had a gleam in her eyes that Lily didn’t trust at all. “Do you think I could get that wild-looking Lord David to dance with me?”

  Lily laughed wryly at the thought of Brendan’s reaction if Isabel took to the dance floor with David Huntington. “Only if you never want to be allowed out of the house again.”

  “As if they could really stop me!”

  “Besides, Lord David doesn’t look as if he dances.”

  “Hmm, no, he doesn’t. But you could dance with Lord Aidan,” Isabel said.

  Lily shook her head. “No dancing for me tonight. I think it’s time we went home.”

  “You go ahead and wait for me outside, Lily. I have some business to attend to.”

  Lily noticed some of Isabel’s giggly young friends beckoning to her from the corner. “No mischief, Issy.”

  “None at all, I promise. Not tonight anyway.”

  Lily nodded and made her way out of the withdrawing room. Two ladies brushed past her on their way in, and she recognized the black-haired beauty and the little blonde who had arrived with Aidan. The dark lady gave her a startled glance, as if she recognized Lily, but then the door closed behind them.

  Lily turned and saw Aidan there on the landing, his palms resting lightly on the balustrade as he gazed down at the foyer below. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and he showed no surprise at seeing her there. He gave her a half-smile, and she slowly walked over to stand beside him. She knew she should turn the other way and go down the stairs, away from him, that they shouldn’t be seen talking at a place like this. But something still drew her to him.

  “Good evening, Lily,” he said. “You look lovely, as always. That color suits you.”

  Lily rested her hands on the railing next to his. The white kid of her gloves glowed in the shadows. She could hear the music and chatter of the party, but it seemed so very far away. She couldn’t stay there long, but for a moment it was just her and Aidan.

  “I wanted to say thank you,” she said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “You know for what. I read the account of Tom’s arrest in the papers. I know you had something to do with it. Probably everything to do with it.”

  Aidan shrugged. “I merely acted as any of Her Majesty’s concerned citizens would.”

  “Very few of those citizens even want to know what happens in places like Whitechapel or St. Giles. They would never know how to track down and capture someone like Tom Beaumont.”

  “I promised you he wouldn’t bother you again, Lily.”

  She shook her head. “I have never known a better actor than you, Aidan.”

  “An actor? Not I,” he said with a laugh.

  “Yes, you. You want everyone to think you are so careless, only out for your own pleasure, no thought for anyone else.”

  “That’s all very true, Lily. I am only out for my pleasure.”

  “No, you can’t fool me. Not now. No one, not even a madman, would go chasing through the slums after someone like Tom Beaumont for a mere lark. Whatever you did, I am grateful.”

  He turned his head to look at her, and she was shocked by the fierce, intent light in his eyes. His hands curled into fists on the polished railing. “I don’t want your gratitude, Lily.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Oh, I think you know,” he said in a low, quiet voice that made her shiver.

  A burst of laughter floated up to them from the foyer. Lily looked down at the people there, away from Aidan, but she could still feel him watching her.

  “The blond lady you came in with tonight,” she said. “She is very pretty.”

  “Lady Henrietta Lindley.”

  Lady Henrietta Lindley. The young lady he was linked with in the gossip papers, the suitable bride for a duke’s son. It was yet one more reminder of how far apart their worlds were, of what expectations Aidan had had placed on his shoulders by his family and by society. He might rebel against them now, but eventually everyone had to bow to duty. He could sleep with Lily, even forge a connection with her, but in the end he had to marry a Lady Henrietta. Especially if his brother failed in his duty and Aidan had to be the duke.

  “Your family must be happy to see you with her,” she said. “And she looked lovely on your arm.”

  “I don’t care about her,” he whispered darkly into her ear. “I want to see you.”

  “You are seeing me right now.”

  “Alone. There are things I must explain. Meet me tomorrow night? At the Carlyle Hotel?”

  Lily closed her eyes. She knew she should say no, should end this now. Let him go to his Lady Henrietta while she decided what to do with her life from now on. But she nodded.

  “Tomorrow night, then.”

  Room 303. Lily looked up at the polished brass numbers on the door and then down at the key in her hand. It had been delivered to her house that morning and all day had sat in the locked drawer of her desk like a guilty secret.

  She had almost stayed away, remembering Aidan with his family and the oh-so-suitable Lady Henrietta, remembering all that lay between them. But in the end, she could no more stay away than she could cease breathing. There was something about Aidan, some terrible magic, that drew her to him.

  She eased back the hood of her cloak a bit and peered back down the hallway. The Carlyle Hotel was an expensive place, full of the air of quiet discretion and secrets kept amid fresh flowers, thick carpets, and crystal chandeliers. The dark wood walls muffled any sounds, and whatever happened behind those carved doors stayed there.

  She slowly slid the key into the lock and clicked it open. With a deep breath, she pushed past the door and let it close behind her.

  It was dark in the chamber, the only light a beam of chalky moonlight that fell over the foot of a high, carved bed spread with satin blankets. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes after the gaslight of the corridor.

  Suddenly her wrist was caught in a hard clasp, and she was whirled around to face the wall, her cheek against the cool silk paper. She instinctively kicked back, her mouth opening to cry out, but a palm covered her mouth.

  “Don’t scream,” Aidan whispered roughly against her ear.

  In an instant, Lily went from cold fear to relief. She sagged against the wall, bracing her free hand against it. The pattern of the paper felt bumpy under her palm.

  “Aidan,” she murmured. “You frightened me.”

  “Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t sound repentant at all. He sounded dark and… and hungry. His hand slid slowly away from her mouth, and she caught the tip of his finger between her lips. As she sucked on it, biting lightly, he groaned.

  He quickly tore away the ties of her cloak and let it drop. “I missed you, Lily,” he said against her hair. He smelled of wine and his own spicy soap, and as his body pressed against her back, she realized that his shirt was open. His skin was warm and damp through her muslin gown, and she arched herself into him, wanting to feel more.

  “How could you miss me?” she said, gasping when his teeth caught at her earlobe. “You just saw me last night.”

  “I could hardly do this last night, could I?” He tugged the bodice of her gown lower and cupped her breast in his palm. Two of his fingertips slid over her aching nipple, rolling it between them. “Or this.” His tongue traced the curl of her ear before licking a light, hot trail down the side of her neck.

  “You smell so good,” he muttered. “Like violets and vanilla custard.”

  “Vanilla custard?
” Lily’s laugh broke off on a moan as he pinched at her nipple.

  “Delicious,” he said against her bare shoulder. “I could devour you right here.”

  Lily’s eyes slid closed. “Then why don’t you?”

  He seemed to need nothing else but those words. He unfastened the back of her dress and pushed it all the way down. Then he made quick work of her corset, tearing at the lacings until it fell away along with her silk chemise and drawers. When she wore only her stockings, he pushed her to the bed, his body still at her back.

  She fell down to the soft mattress on her stomach, her legs hanging down over the edge. She started to push herself up, but Aidan caught her around the hips and held her still. She felt him kneel on the floor, spreading her thighs farther apart, and with no warning, his tongue drove deep into her, his lips seeking out that one most sensitive spot.

  “Aidan!” she cried as pleasure flew through her like fiery sparks. “Oh, God, Aidan.” She rocked her hips back against him, her knees braced against his shoulders as he tasted her deeply. She pressed her forehead into the softness of the satin blankets and let the sensations carry her away.

  His tongue swept over her slit before plunging into her again, and she felt his shoulder shift as he reached down to unfasten his trousers. His arm moved, and she sensed his hand sliding down over his erection, pumping himself. The image in her mind of him touching himself made her cry out again. She wanted to be the one touching him, feeling his hard heat under her fingers, wanting to taste him.

  The thought of having Aidan in her mouth made her climax seize her, and her thighs tightened around him. “Aidan,” she whispered.

  He slowly let her down, pressing one last kiss to her sensitive inner thigh before he stood. She felt his hands at her waist as he slid her up onto the bed. Before she could roll over, he came down between her legs. He drew her hips up and slid his length inside her. He went in halfway, slowly, then drew back and drove forward, all the way until they were fully joined.

  His hands tightened on her hips, and she felt a long shiver trembling through her body. “Lily,” he said hoarsely. “You feel so good.”

  So did he. He felt so right. She pushed herself back against him, and he started to thrust into her, hard, deep, almost punishing with need. Lily balanced her hands in front of her and curled her fingers into the blankets, feeling the slide of her nipples over the smooth satin. She turned her head to the side to watch the intent darkness on his face as he moved inside her.

  His eyes were closed, his head thrown back as he kept up the fast rhythm. His face looked so austere, all taut, sculpted angles. She heard the slide of his skin over hers, the harshness of his breath, and the pleasure deep inside of her grew and grew until she was drowning in it.

  “Aidan,” she gasped, and his eyes flew open. Blue fire flashed down into her as he watched her hungrily.

  One hand dug into her hip as his rhythm grew harder, wilder, and the other reached around her. His fingertip rubbed around the bundle of nerves at the top of her womanhood, tugging at it. She felt a scream rising up out of her throat at the rush of sensation slamming through her.

  Aidan set his teeth against her shoulder and ground his hips into her bottom. “Come, Lily,” he commanded harshly. “Come for me.”

  And she did, pressing her face into the bed to muffle her cries. His body jerked against hers, his back arching with his own climax.

  Lily slowly sank down onto the bed and tried to breathe again. Her body trembled, and she felt so weak, so replete, she couldn’t even sit up. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes as languorous satisfaction washed over her.

  Aidan fell onto the blankets behind her, and she could hear his breathing grow slower. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel the heat of his body wrap around hers, could smell the salt of his sweat, his soap, and the starched linen of his shirt that blended with the sweetness of the flowers in the room and the musky scent of sex. After a long moment, he pressed a light kiss to her shoulder and pushed himself up off the bed.

  Lily kept her eyes closed and listened as he moved around the room. She heard the rustle of cloth as he took off his clothes, and she realized they had been so lost in lust for each other that he hadn’t undressed before he took her. There was the splash of water being poured into a basin.

  “Lily?” he said softly, and she felt the dip of the bed as he sat down beside her. “Are you awake?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she answered.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  Surprised by his words and the caution in his voice, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. He had lit candles on the dressing table behind him, and they cast him in a pale golden glow. His hair was damp, brushed back from his face, and his eyes looked dark as midnight in the flickering light.

  “Of course you didn’t hurt me,” she said. She carefully sat up and slid back until she could lean on the mounds of lace-trimmed pillows. “I’ve never felt that way before. So… full of need. You must be some kind of magician.”

  A rueful smile quirked one corner of his mouth. “A sex magician?”

  “The rarest and best kind,” she said with a laugh. “But truly, Aidan, I don’t… I never thought it could be the way it is between us in bed. My husband…” Her voice faded. She didn’t want to think of Harry Nichols now, or ever again. Especially not when she was with Aidan.

  “It’s never been like this for me either,” he said quietly. He reached for her foot and slowly rolled her white silk stocking down her leg. He kissed each bit of skin he bared, soft, slow kisses, so tender after their rough, urgent lovemaking. His tongue swirled over the sensitive spot behind her knee, and Lily let her head fall back onto the pillows.

  She wasn’t sure she believed him when he said it had never been like that for him. He had surely been with so many women; he was so good in bed. He knew just where to touch, to kiss. But she liked those words nonetheless. She liked to imagine that she was special to him in some way, that these moments meant something.

  Aidan removed her other stocking, leaving her naked, and she heard the soft splash of water. She opened her eyes to see he had left the basin on the bedside table. He wrung out a sponge and leaned over her to gently lather her shoulders, her arms, the curve of her breast.

  “Aidan…,” she began.

  “Let me,” he said. His voice was soft, but with the unmistakable ring of command. “Let me take care of you.”

  She sank back down to the pillows and nodded. Slowly, she relaxed under his touch. No one had ever taken care of her like that before either, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Perhaps she liked it a bit too much. Perhaps she would miss it too much when he was gone.

  She closed her eyes tightly and curled her fingers into the soft satin beneath her.

  “Tell me about your marriage, Lily,” he said as he traced the sponge over her hip.

  Lily opened her eyes to stare up at the pleated canopy above her head. “Why do you want to know about him?”

  “You said no one had ever made you feel this way before. Not even him?”

  “Especially not him. I didn’t marry Mr. Nichols for his skills in the bedchamber.”

  “Then why did you marry him?”

  “Because it was time for me to marry, I suppose. My stage career was over before it began—I needed to do something. And he seemed suitable. Respectable. I thought he could make me that way too.”

  “Did your family urge you to marry him?” he asked quietly, intently.

  Lily shook her head. “My brothers didn’t even like him very much. He was too staid and conventional for them. And my parents wouldn’t have minded if I stayed home with them forever. You see how I moved back with them when Nichols died. I just… I wanted to find my own life, I suppose. I wanted to be someone else. But it was a mistake.”

  “How so?” Aidan’s voice hardened. “Was he cruel to you?”

  “He didn’t beat me or lock me in the attic, if that’s what you mean. And he seemed to ap
preciate my help with his business. But…”

  “But what?”

  She shook her head again, as if to deny something to him or to her. “He wanted to make me into someone I couldn’t be in the end, a placid, quiet lady to simper on his arm at parties and hostess his dinners for his business acquaintances. And he wasn’t happy when I couldn’t be that.” She opened her eyes and smiled up at Aidan. He had dropped the sponge back into the basin and watched her closely with a frown creasing his brow. “And he didn’t even have a fraction of your dexterity in the bedroom. Not that I want to increase your ego any more.”

  He smiled. “Impossible. I’m already the most arrogant bastard in London. Haven’t you heard?”

  “Who says so?”

  “Almost everyone I’ve ever met. Including my brother.”

  “I must be mad, then, for I like your arrogance. You’re always who you truly are. You never pretend.”

  “And you shouldn’t either.” Aidan lay down beside her on the pillows, his body stretched out so that he curled around her protectively, and he bent his head to kiss her shoulder. “You should never be anyone but you, Lily. Just as you are.”

  She twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down to claim his lips with hers before she could do something awful, like cry. She kissed him hard, sweeping the tip of her tongue over his lower lip, but when he tried to wrap his arm around her waist and drag her closer, she drew away and pressed him down onto the bed with his arms stretched above his head.

  She held his wrists there and whispered against his ear, “Stay there, Aidan.”

  Something blazed in his eyes as he stared up at her, and a muscle flexed along his jaw, but he didn’t move. He lay perfectly still, his body hard and taut as she slid her body down over his, naked skin against naked skin. She kissed his muscled shoulder, his collarbone, and licked at the flat, dark disk of his nipple with the tip of her tongue. It puckered under her kiss, and she felt a ripple pass under his skin, but he still didn’t move.

  Lily traced her mouth down his ridged abdomen, trailed a kiss over his navel, both his sharp hip bones, biting lightly at one. His breath hissed in his throat, and she smiled.