A Season of Ruin

by Anna Bradley

  Why not? There was nothing to stop him, and he’d been without a woman since he’d arrived in London. It was unheard of. Things were becoming rather, well, desperate. For the sake of his very health, he needed to secure a mistress.

  But then Lily, damn her, had decided to wear her hair swept atop her head tonight. He’d been seated right behind her for the entire first act, riveted by the sight of her bare, delectable neck. The loose tendrils of hair brushing against her white skin drove him mad. Lily had known, too—she’d felt his stare and he’d felt her quiver in response, her nervous hand coming up to touch her neck. From that point on, he could think of nothing but sinking to his knees behind her chair and pressing his lips against that scented skin. The loose tendrils of her hair would brush against him as she reached behind her to wrap her arms around him—

  Well. All thoughts of Louise Bannister’s arse had flown out of his head, scattered like a flock of birds threatened by a hungry cat.

  That was the trouble with art. You never knew when you were going to lose interest in it.

  Fortunately for Miss Bannister, Archie proved a more steadfast admirer, and had remained behind in her dressing room to escort her home after the final curtain fell. It hadn’t been clear whether they’d adjourn to Archie’s chambers or Miss Bannister’s, so Robyn had decided to keep away from St. James’s Place tonight.

  Far be it from him to interfere in a gentleman’s study of fine art.

  He took another unsteady step in the general direction of his chambers. Christ, he was sotted. He should never have let Pelkey talk him into a game of cravats in that last tavern, but he hadn’t wanted to return home until he was sure Lily was safely tucked away in her bed, white sheets pulled neatly under her chin, dreaming the dreams of the chaste.

  He doubted he’d be so fortunate. No, it would be another long, agonizing night filled with blue eyes, fair hair tangled in his hands, perfect white breasts heaving with passion, and a scent that left him hard and aching alone in his bed, near crazed with unsated lust.

  He could hear the blood rush through his veins even now.

  “. . . a delightful evening. Thank you for your escort, my lord.”

  Oh, wait. That wasn’t his blood. It was the front door opening. His mother and sisters filed into the entrance hall. Lily followed after them, her hand on Atherton’s arm.

  “Lady Sutherland. Miss Sutherland. Miss Charlotte.” Atherton bowed to each in turn. “Thank you for a pleasurable evening.”

  Robyn nearly laughed aloud at Charlotte’s expression. He knew that look. She hadn’t found her evening pleasurable. Ellie curtsied politely, but Charlotte only tapped her foot impatiently.

  Atherton cleared his throat and bowed again to Lady Catherine. “May I have a brief word with Miss Somerset before I take my leave?”

  Robyn considered leaping over the railing to throw Atherton out the door himself, but his mother would never allow—

  “One brief word only, my lord.” Lady Catherine smiled indulgently. “Come along, girls.”

  Robyn’s mouth fell open. Christ, even his own mother—

  Robyn ducked into the dim hallway and pressed against the wall until his mother and sisters had mounted the stairs and turned in the direction of their own bedchambers, then he sneaked back to the landing and hung just far enough over the rail to see Lily and Atherton, but not so far they were likely to see him.

  Atherton held her hands in his and looked down at her adoringly—that is, as adoringly as Atherton looked at anything. Bile burned Robyn’s throat. He might have cast his accounts right then and there had he seen a similarly adoring look on Lily’s face. Fortunately she had her back to him.

  Atherton brought one of her hands to his lips, then the other. “I’d like to . . .”

  Mumble, mumble, mumble.

  Robyn leaned farther over the railing. He’d like to what? Trust Atherton to speak as if his mouth were stuffed full of marbles.

  Speak up, man!

  “. . . see Lord Carlisle tomorrow . . . call on you in the afternoon?”

  Robyn’s entire body went so stiff, he feared he’d topple over the railing and shatter into a thousand pieces on the marble floor below.

  Well, that was it, then. Atherton planned to speak to Alec tomorrow. Once he got Alec’s permission, he’d make Lily a formal offer of marriage. She’d accept, of course, and whatever farce she’d been engaged in with Robyn would come to an abrupt halt so she could embark on her new farce with Atherton.

  There was a brief silence, then Lily murmured something Robyn couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, Atherton seemed pleased, for he leaned toward her. His mouth drew closer to hers, then closer still . . .

  Robyn held his breath and waited for Lily to slap Atherton across his smug, marble-filled mouth, but her hands remained motionless at her sides and she stood docilely, as if she’d waited all night for Atherton’s halfhearted kiss.

  Maybe she had. Perhaps the entire time he’d been enthralled with the back of her neck, she’d been breathless with anticipation for the moment when Atherton would press his dry, closed lips to hers.

  Robyn’s hands clenched into fists as Atherton’s lips met Lily’s. It was quick—blessedly so. So quick Robyn couldn’t decide whether to be outraged Atherton had kissed her at all, or offended the man had taken such poor advantage of such a promising opportunity.

  Men like Atherton were a disgrace to the entire gender.

  Alone with Lily, her luscious pink lips at his disposal, and the best Atherton could offer was a stiff little peck on her mouth, leaving all her eager passions untapped, thrashing and squirming in that delicious body. That she’d be wasted on a man who couldn’t appreciate her sensuality made Robyn want to rip his hair still bloody from the roots.

  Atherton didn’t deserve her.

  Neither do you.

  Robyn backed away from the railing and retreated into the darkness of the hallway. No, he didn’t deserve her, but then he’d made a life’s habit of taking things he didn’t deserve, and he didn’t intend to change that habit tonight. Not when the woman he didn’t deserve had mounted the staircase, was even now only steps from the second-floor landing.

  The woman he wanted above all others.

  “You call that a kiss?”

  “Oh!” Lily whirled around at the sound of his voice. Her hand flew to her chest and patted it as if to calm her heart. “Robyn! What in the world are you doing, skulking back there like some common criminal?”

  “You call that a kiss?” Robyn repeated. He leaned one hip against the railing.

  This time the question registered. He saw incredulity slide over her face, then she drew herself up with dignity. “Were you spying on me?”

  “Yes.” What point was there in denial? Spying would be the least of his sins tonight.

  Lily sputtered for a moment in outrage, but managed to spit out a sentence at last. “Why, how dare you?”

  “You didn’t answer my question. You call that a kiss?” He narrowed his eyes on her face. “You look just the same as ever. You’re not flushed with passion, nor are you panting for breath.”

  “I—that’s none of your business.”

  Robyn straightened and moved toward her. “Your lips aren’t even pink. Not more so than usual, that is.”

  Something in his expression made her eyes go wide. “Don’t come near me.”

  But she didn’t back away.

  He ignored her words, cupped her face in one hand, and brushed the tip of his bare thumb softly against her lower lip, as if testing its plumpness. “Not swollen, either. Atherton should be horsewhipped.”

  “He’s—he’s a gentleman.”

  A dark chuckle escaped Robyn’s lips. “He’s a bloody fool. It’s as if he didn’t kiss you at all. If I put my mouth on you, you’d damn well know it, and for days afterward. If I had such an opportun
ity, you’d not walk away from me until my tongue touched every inch of your mouth, inside and out.”

  Lily’s mouth went soft and her lips opened, as if she imagined his tongue against her there.

  Robyn suppressed a harsh groan and kept his voice soft and low. “I may not be a gentleman, but I’m no fool, either, to let such a chance escape me.”

  He hadn’t planned to do it, but he also didn’t hesitate. He grasped her arm, hurried her down the hall, through his bedchamber door, and shut the door behind her. “Well,” he crooned, his lips close to her ear. “This certainly brings back fond memories, doesn’t it?”

  “You must be mad! Let me out of here this instant!”

  He’d gone mad for certain.

  “Hmmm . . . let me think about it. No. Not yet.”

  Lily pushed hard against his chest, to no effect. She huffed out a breath. “You’d accost me, a guest in your own home? That’s going a bit far even for you, Robyn.”

  “Someone has to accost you. You need to learn not to loiter in dark hallways.”

  “Loiter? I never—”

  “I would think you’d know that already, but here you are again, at the mercy of, what did you call me last time? A conscienceless seducer? Or was it a lascivious rake?”

  “What difference does it make?” Lily snapped. “Either one will do.”

  Robyn shifted to press her more firmly against the door and planted his hands on either side of her head. His mouth hovered near her neck, but he didn’t kiss her. “Ah. I suppose I deserve that. Or I will deserve it by the time I let you leave this room.”

  He stood so close to her, he could see her throat work as she swallowed. “I don’t understand you, Robyn. I thought we were friends.”

  Friends? Did she think to convince him, or herself? Or did she think she could reason him into releasing her? How like Lily not to see they’d gone far, far beyond reason.

  His breath stirred the hair at her temple and he felt a shiver pass through her. “Oh, no. I don’t kiss my friends, and I’d very much like to kiss you right now.”

  She made another halfhearted attempt to escape. “I suppose it matters not at all that I don’t want to kiss you.”

  Robyn chuckled. “Don’t you? But I’m afraid I don’t believe you. Deny it all you like, but you do need me, Lily, just as I promised you would. I want to hear you say it. Then perhaps I might be persuaded to let you go.”

  “Is that what this is for you?” Her voice throbbed with pent-up emotion. “Another game to prove you were right all along?”

  Robyn’s passion-fogged brain worked sluggishly to produce a denial. “I don’t care about being right. I care only about being satisfied.”

  “Don’t you? But I’m afraid I don’t believe you, for everything is a game to you. Very well. I need you. There. I’ve said it, and I congratulate you on your victory. Does that satisfy you?”

  A dozen different emotions roiled through him, but satisfaction wasn’t among them. He buried his face in the soft skin where her shoulder met her neck and inhaled. “Oh, believe me, sweet. I’m far from satisfied.”

  “Pity,” she said. “Perhaps it’s because even when I need you, I wish I didn’t. Does that mean you don’t win?”

  That scent was Lily’s. No perfume could be so intoxicating. For some reason the realization angered him. “That’s the second time you’ve accused me of playing games with you, but I think you’re the one who’s playing games.”

  He felt her stiffen against him. “Me? That’s absurd.”

  “Why?” He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Because the proper, demure Lily Somerset would never play games with a notorious rake like me? But you are, you know.”

  Lily gasped as his fingers stroked from her cheek over her jaw and trailed down the front of her throat. “I—I don’t know what you mean.”

  Her soft gasp sent a shock of pure lust through him. He wanted to make her gasp again and again, to make her sigh, and to catch each breathless exhalation against his mouth. “Oh, I think you do. You’ve got Atherton arranged on one side of the chessboard and me on the other. I suppose he’d be the white pieces and I’d be the black. Isn’t that right, Lily?”

  She pulled a sharp, outraged breath into her lungs. “You flatter yourself. What makes you think you’re on the board at all?”

  Robyn traced the hollow at the base of her throat. He felt her pulse leap against the pad of his finger and laughed softly. “Oh, I’m there. You don’t want me there, and you’ll continue to deny it, but I’m there all the same. Shall I tell you how I know?”

  “No,” she said at once.

  But Robyn heard the panic in her voice and realized on a surge of triumph that she already knew. He pressed his mouth against the base of her throat and let the tip of his tongue taste the hollow, just one stroke, as light as a breath.

  “Your pulse jumps when I taste you here,” he murmured against her throat. “That’s how I know.”

  She shook her head even as her arms came up to circle his neck and her fingers sank into his hair.

  “Do you deny it still?” Robyn planted brief, hot kisses against her neck and under her chin, stopping only when his mouth hovered over hers, so close, but not quite touching. “Your lips are open, and soft and wet. So wet, Lily. That’s how I know.”

  She made a sound then, a whimper, a sob—he didn’t know. He didn’t care. He knew only that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and he’d prove it to her before he’d let her walk out the door.

  He dragged his hands down her sides, closed them around her waist, and held them there so he could feel the heat of her skin through the cool silk of her gown, turning his palms to fire.

  “Your skin is so hot, and when I move my hands here”—he slid his palms over her rib cage—“I feel your breath quicken against my fingers. I can feel you gasp, Lily. That’s how I know.”

  She did gasp then. The sound of her quick breath in his ear made him want to sink to his knees. “Robyn, please . . .”

  “Please what? Please kiss you? Or please let you go? You don’t know yourself what you want, do you?”

  But Robyn knew what he wanted, and if he didn’t let her go immediately, he would take it. He’d take her, right against this door, her skirts hiked to her waist and her legs wrapped around him as he thrust inside her, thrust until he spent all the pent-up frustration of the past few weeks into her warm, writhing body.

  Lily moaned, as if she knew what he was thinking. “I don’t know—”

  “You don’t know, do you, love?” His tongue darted out to lick at her earlobe. “But if you know nothing else, know this. It’s no game I’m playing with you. Not anymore.” His hands drifted down her back until they closed around her lush, firm buttocks. He lifted her against him so she could feel how much he wanted her. “Does this feel like a game to you?”

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders and he felt her arch against him. “It feels so . . .”

  Control. Stay in control.

  It took every ounce of his will to do it, but Robyn released her. His breath heaved in and out of his chest and his cock throbbed, so he stepped back, away from her, before the demands of his body urged him to pull her into his arms again.

  “You told me the other night you wished you didn’t need me. But your body needs mine, no matter how much your mind tries to deny it. Pursue your game with Atherton, then, Lily, but do it knowing you give up a great deal to have him, for he will never own your body the way I do.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “No one owns me, Robyn. Not my body or any other part of me.”

  His eyes glittered like dark ice. “Atherton will. Or have you forgotten the law makes you his property once you marry him? He can do whatever he wishes to you when you’re his wife.”

  The idea seemed to infuriate him. Lily tried to step away from
the rage she saw in his face, but the door was already at her back.

  He advanced on her—so close, his coat brushed against her gown. “How pleased you must be to see things going your way at last. But before you congratulate yourself, you should consider whether you even want Atherton at all.”

  He’ll never own your body the way I do.

  “And if I decide I do want him?”

  He paused, then shrugged, as if it mattered not in the least to him what she decided. “I’ll be the first to wish you joy.”

  Lily let out the breath she’d been holding in a defeated rush. Just as she feared, this was no more than a game of tug-of-war to Robyn.

  “Though I’ve no idea why you would want him.”

  A traitorous hope rose again in her breast at these words. “Why not? He’s a trustworthy, virtuous man. He’s just the kind of man any sensible young lady wants as a husband.”

  Robyn laughed, but he didn’t look amused. “Trustworthy and virtuous—what a passionate endorsement. May I ask how you know he is either of these things?”

  “Charlotte said—”

  “Charlotte! You’d base your choice of husband on a whim of Charlotte’s?”

  It didn’t seem the right time to mention Charlotte didn’t approve of Lord Atherton, either, so Lily changed the subject. “He has an impeccable reputation, and—”

  “Please,” Robyn scoffed. “You must know you can’t believe all of what you hear, or even what you don’t hear. What of the lies Mrs. Tittleton told about you? Just because the ton whispers it all over London doesn’t make it true.”

  “The gossip I heard about you proved to be true. Why should I imagine the ton is any less accurate about Lord Atherton?”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to reach into the air, grab them, and force them back behind her lips. He said nothing, but she couldn’t mistake the look of surprised hurt on his face.