by Diana Quincy
“She certainly waited long enough to accept an offer,” Cam said.
“It was almost as if she awaited someone’s return,” Sebastian murmured.
“Nonsense.” Frustration roiled in his chest. “This discussion has no purpose. She is to be wed.”
“But she isn’t yet married.” Cam spoke in serious tones. “There is nothing here that cannot be undone. As a family, we could survive the scandal it would cause.”
“Wrong.” Anger and frustration stirring in his belly, Rand threw down his cards and pushed to his feet. “There is much here that can never be undone. Nothing will be as it was.”
He left them, striding out of the cards room and through the front hall, eager to make his escape. He almost bumped into Toby coming through the door in the opposite direction.
“Leaving so soon?” He about-faced and followed Rand down the steps. “I’d have thought the lovely Miss Campbell’s company would entice you to prolong your stay.” Lengthening his stride, Rand shot him a dark look. “Doesn’t seem your type, that one.”
They set off in the direction of Rand’s townhome. “And you know my type.”
“If Elena is any indication, you like them dark and buxom.”
Of course, he couldn’t tell Toby his tastes ran toward only one woman; a wisp of a beauty with flaxen curls framing her delicate face. “In truth, I admire Elena’s character more than her form.”
Toby guffawed. “That seems to be the minority opinion when it comes to men, Elena, and her…ah…more voluptuous attributes.”
“Elena and I are no longer involved.”
“I cannot claim to be surprised. You never do stay with any one woman for long. Did you break her heart?”
“I doubt it. I’m rather certain she’s already entertaining a new admirer.”
“Indeed? Who is the lucky sot?”
“I’ve not a clue. She’s been surprisingly discreet about it.”
“Elena? Discreet? Not a behavior I’d attribute to our fearless Maid of Malagon.” Toby pursed his lips. “Perhaps he’s married.”
They rounded a corner. “Unlikely. Elena is not the sort to consort with married men.”
“True. She does have standards. Just not the same ones as the rest of polite society.”
They reached Rand’s doorstep. The idea of entering the big, empty structure alone did not appeal. “Join me for a nightcap, Hobart?”
“No, thank you. I’ll just push on.” He raised his hand to hail a passing hackney. “I depart on the morrow with Drummond. We’ll see what he can do for my addled mind.”
Rand raised a hand in farewell to his friend before turning to ascend the stairs. The huge manse cast a hulking shadow across the square. A few doors down, one of his neighbors was entertaining. Lights blazed from every window, and the chatter of people and music filtered out onto the street.
He wondered what Kitty was doing at the moment. He’d seen her this evening, of course. How could he not? She wore a silver gown that glittered in the candlelight, her short curls adorning the delicate beauty of her features. He noted others had copied her style. There were a number of debutantes sporting short curls at this evening’s musicale. Of course, none of them to the effect of Kitty. Incomparable indeed.
Entering the house, he dismissed the footman who’d waited up for him and made for his study, the clicking of his boots echoing through the silence. At least if he married Miss Campbell, the house wouldn’t be so damned quiet. Although having her incessant chatter crowding his mind for the rest of his days might well drive him to bedlam.
He slowed as he neared the music room. Coming to a stop on the threshold, he exhaled and stepped into the darkness. No one lit candles or a fire in here because he never entered this chamber, yet tonight he felt the familiar old pull to lose himself in his music. He paused by the pianoforte to run his fingers over the cool keys and thought of the beauty he could coax from the instrument. Once, long ago, he’d entertained the idea of becoming a serious musician, which was pure folly for a gentleman. Now he no longer played at all, not even for himself.
Music brought back memories which were best left buried; remembrances of Kitty, who had happily sat beside him when he’d practiced for hours. He hadn’t touched an instrument since the night he’d left her. Music opened something deep inside of him and laid him too bare. He would never allow himself to be that vulnerable again.
He turned and strode from the music room, trotting up the stairs to his bedchamber. The happy yelp that greeted him when he entered his chamber immediately punctured his somber mood. Vera trotted up to him, wagging her tail in ecstatic welcome. He smiled. “Hullo there, girl.” He knelt to pet her in the robust way she liked and immediately felt some of the tension inside his body ease. She slipped away with a playful yelp and danced in little circles. He laughed. “It looks like you’re as restless as your master. Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”
…
“I am the worst kind of cad.”
Laurie closed the door and fell back against it. Elena sat at her dressing table wearing nothing except the shiny mass of ebony hair cascading down to the small of her back. His hungry eyes feasted on the smooth bronze of her back, the strong, sleek arms, and the feminine indentation at her waist.
She’d been expecting him. She rose from the chair with her usual languor, allowing him a full view of her strong, streamlined form. His eyes were riveted by the movement of her abundant, perfectly-formed breasts. They overflowed in his hands, a bounty of femininity he couldn’t seem to get enough of. “Every time I visit, I swear it will be the last time. But I just can’t seem to stop myself.”
Her deep throaty chuckle rippled through him, sizzling down to the place between his legs. She moved to the bed, and climbed on, giving him an excellent view of her firm bottom as she scooted upward to settle herself back against the pillows. “How would you like it this time, vizconde?”
His vitals surged. Pulling off his neck cloth, he kept his gaze on her. “Let me see you.” She raised a dark brow in question. “Spread your legs. All the way.”
Bending her knees, she planted her feet on the mattress and spread her legs far apart, letting him look his fill at the very center of her. Sheltered by a fluff of black curls, she was pink and glistening. “Do you want it?” she said in a voice husky with arousal.
“You know bloody well that I do,” he said harshly. Blood pounded through his body, swelling in his groin. If he’d thought shagging Elena a few times would get her out of his system, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He’d never known such temptation. In the past fortnight, he’d had her every way he could think of; in her bed, bent over the dresser, up against the wall, even on the servants’ staircase at the opera.
None of it slackened his desire. Even now, struggling out of the rest of his clothes, all he could think of was shagging her senseless. Finally naked, he climbed onto the bed and came to a stop between her legs. He lifted them further apart, bending them back toward those luscious breasts, stretching her even more open to his appreciative gaze. Then he stooped down to lick the moist place between her thighs.
“Sí mi amor, sí,” she cried, urging herself up to him.
He had never wanted to pleasure a woman like this before but, with Elena, he wanted to do it all—to give her complete indescribable pleasure. He licked and sucked, tasting her musky arousal. Listening to her cries, he followed her urgings until he hit the perfect spot for her pleasure. He became relentless, demanding more with his mouth until she cried out and shuddered against his tongue.
Giving her no respite, he prowled up and shoved into her, moving with demanding strokes, setting an unforgiving rhythm for both of them. She locked her ankles behind his back and bucked against him. Her peaked breasts quivered with her movements and he fell on them like a ravenous animal, giving her his full weight, relishing the warm slide of full body, skin-on-skin contact.
Holding each overflowing orb in his hands, he rubbed his face into the plush flesh, taking in t
he earthy scent of her skin before latching onto a hardened tip and savoring its pert, rippling texture. He indulged himself in this way for several minutes while she moaned and quivered beneath him. Then she spun him around until he lay beneath her. Her dark eyes holding his, Elena smiled in that slow voluptuous way of hers. His heart kicked with excitement, his groin grew heavier.
She threw her head back and began to move atop him, her black hair gleaming about those smooth bronze shoulders and breasts. He watched, mesmerized by the sight of her as she rode him, her succulent mounds undulating with each movement. He’d never seen anything more beautiful. Closing his eyes, he gripped her hips and moved with her, losing himself in the feel and scent of her.
“Forgive me, my dear. I didn’t realize you were entertaining.”
It took a moment for Laurie to register the droll masculine voice sounding from the doorway. A dog barked. Mired in the haze of urgent lust, he barely managed to direct his attention past the sensuous goddess moving atop him. When he did, his gaze slammed into the Earl of Randolph standing rigid in the doorway with Kat’s dog on a leash by his side. Laurie’s blood iced. The crushing indecency of his liaison with Elena hit him anew. Remorse cleaved through him at being caught in the act of betraying his betrothed in the worst possible way.
Atop him, Elena stilled with a reluctant sigh. Rolling off she said, “Rand, querido, I did not know you were coming.”
“Obviously.”
His heart slamming, Laurie bounded off the bed in one quick motion and reached for his clothes. If he had to fight Randolph, at least he’d do so with his breeches on. Tugging them on over his bare hips, he regarded the earl with an unflinching gaze. “Do you intend to challenge me?”
To his surprise, Randolph’s mouth curved in amusement, though one could never really tell with the man. He was such a cold fish. “Good lord, no. Elena is her own mistress. She belongs to no one.”
Why did Randolph have Kat’s animal? And what was he doing here? Hot jealousy seared his chest at the thought of Elena shagging both of them at the same time. “I was led to believe you two were no longer engaged in a liaison.”
“We are not. I confess to being surprised at your lack of discretion, Sinclair. You are betrothed after all.”
A sick feeling swirled in Laurie’s stomach at the truth of Randolph’s words. He, who had always prided himself on his decency, proved to be nothing more than a common scoundrel. The lowest of the low. If his behavior with Elena didn’t prove that, he didn’t know what did.
He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. Grabbing his boots in one hand and the remainder of his clothes in the other, Laurie made for the door. Pausing on the threshold, he turned to face the other man. “I trust I can rely upon your discretion in this matter, Randolph. I wouldn’t want Kat harmed by this.”
“Of course not.” The steely courtesy of the earl’s tone sent a shiver through him.
He glanced over at Elena, who had put on a dressing gown and stood, arms crossed under her chest, watching his exchange with Rand. “Ma’am,” he said with a stiff bow.
“You can see yourself out, vizconde,” she said as if understanding his urgent need to be far away from her at the moment. He took her dismissal for the gift it was, striding out of the room and hurrying down the stairs. Pulling the door open, he welcomed a blast of moist heat, though nothing could warm the self-loathing icing his insides.
…
Once he heard the front door slam, Rand raised his brows in Elena’s direction. “Are you planning to make a habit of being caught in flagrante, querida?”
She smiled when she realized he referred to the amorous performance they’d put on for Kitty. “No. Some things are better left in private.”
“Indeed.” Struggling to control his anger, he walked over to a small table that held a decanter of brandy to pour himself a drink. “What are you doing docking Sinclair of all people?”
“I desire him, of course.”
“And the fact that he is betrothed means nothing to you?” He threw the brandy down his throat. “I never took you for a toffer, Elena.”
“Toffer?” She frowned. “No comprendo.”
“A toffer is what we English call a superior whore.”
“Why are you so angry, querido? I thought you would be pleased.”
“Pleased? You thought I would take satisfaction in seeing Kat’s happiness destroyed again?”
“Don’t be foolish.” She sat at her dressing table and picked up her brush. “The vizconde has come to my bed many times now.”
“And you are proud of that?”
“It shows you are much mistaken about his devotion to your Kat.”
“She is not my Kat,” he said through clenched teeth. “Sinclair is a whole man. He can make her happy.”
“It surprises me a brilliant strategist would make such a grave miscalculation.” She pulled the brush through her hair in an unhurried motion. “How can she be happy with a husband who desires another? You, at least, would be faithful. And you have never truly desired any woman but her.”
Her cool logic maddened him and he longed to shake some sense into her. “What if these bouts of madness are just the beginning? Have you considered that?” He fought the urge to throw something. “These episodes could worsen and grow more frequent until I am a complete bedlamite.”
She continued stroking the brush through her hair in slow, rhythmic motions. “No man is without his imperfections.”
“You would have me saddle her with that kind of future?”
“Most women would give anything to be cared for by a man as you care for her.” She caught his gaze in the mirror. “You think to offer your lady a life free of turmoil, but it will also be absent of love.”
“What balderdash.” He exhaled his exasperation. “Don’t tell me you’re docking Sinclair as part of some misbegotten stratagem to reunite me with my true love?”
She put down the brush and turned in her chair to face him. “Now that you comprehend the vizconde is not the perfect match for your lady, what will you do about it?”
He narrowed his eyes as realization washed over him. “You’re toying with Sinclair to prove a point.”
She rose and walked over to him. “You know me better than that, querido. I only bed men I desire.” She took his glass from him and finished the brandy in one long gulp, her throat working as she swallowed. “But, perhaps you have learned that he is not so much better for her than you are. You at least can offer her complete devotion. Sinclair cannot.”
“Perhaps you believe you can command the viscount’s total devotion,” he said in a voice rich with scorn.
“I would have a better chance at it than your Kat.” She dragged the back of her hand across her upper lip to wipe away any remaining traces of brandy. “She is enchanting, but she is not for him. And he is not for her. One day he will find the right woman for him, one who not only captures his heart but also satisfies his deepest manly needs.”
He had to get out of here and away from this maddening woman. Whistling for Vera, who’d settled at the foot of Elena’s bed, he stalked toward the door. “Devil take it. You’ve gone and made a mess of things.”
“Donde vas?” she called out from behind him as he and Vera barreled down the stairs. “You haven’t told me why you came to visit.”
He swung around to look up at her standing on the landing. “I was going to discuss the merits of my offering for Miss Campbell.”
That got her complete attention. “And now?”
He favored her with a dark look. “Obviously, in light of what I discovered this evening, that’s completely out of the question.”
She nodded her approval. “Perhaps now you will cease being a coward and pursue what you truly desire.”
Anger ripped through his chest as he took a reflexive step up toward her. “If you were a gentleman, I would call you out for that grave insult.”
“For telling the truth?” She came down the stairs to m
eet him, halting a step above so that they stood eye to eye. “What else would you call refusing to claim the woman you love? You act as though you died on that field in Talavera.”
His stomach churned with emotion. “Shut your mouth.”
“You are afraid to live.” Her dark eyes burned into him. “Will you stay shut up in that old mausoleum forever because you are fearful of ever feeling anything again?”
His fury at her instantly gave way to an overwhelming flood of grief. Suddenly, he was drowning in it. Staggering backward onto the landing, he braced a hand against the wall to steady himself. To his horror, he choked back a sob. “I cannot—”
“You can.”
“You have no idea what you ask.” Desperate to be away from her, he turned and staggered toward the door. He fumbled for the latch and pulled it open, darting from the house like a man deprived of oxygen.
Later, he didn’t know how long he and Vera walked, striding silently through the darkened streets, his mind in turmoil, contemplating Elena’s words. It was true that he was afraid of being found out, of not being the man Kitty thought she loved. He couldn’t bear her disappointment. But if he refused to claim her, he’d have to stand by and watch her marry a faithless man. Conflicting thoughts continued to swim in his mind as he and Vera covered a great distance with no particular destination in mind, until he found himself at Cam’s door.
“Is something amiss?” Cam trotted down the stairs at a fast clip as he belted his dressing gown, clearly surprised to see Rand twice on the same evening.
“I’ve interrupted you. It is late.” Feeling foolish for disturbing his brother, he turned to go. “I shall call in the morning.”
“Nonsense. Charlotte and I were just preparing for bed.” Cam put a gentle hand on his shoulder to impede his departure. “Come to my study. You look like you could use a drink.”
When the brandy was poured, they settled into two chairs before the unlit hearth. Vera sat on the floor by Rand’s feet, her ears back in an alert posture, almost as if she sensed his distress.
Cam regarded him with a serious gaze. “Do you want to tell me why you’re here?”
