What Maura did not comprehend was that she was being cleverly maneuvered, and Everod was already anticipating the moment when he sprung the trap.
Maura glanced upward at the darkened windows on the upper stories. It appeared both her aunt and uncle had retired to their separate bedchambers. She was utterly alone with Everod.
“Really?” the viscount taunted, edging closer as he circled around her. “Georgette covets the union between you and my brother, so it is highly probably that my father supports the marriage as well. Rowan also agrees, which explains his clumsy attempt at seduction. The only one who seems indecisive is you.”
“What of you?” she asked in a hushed whisper. Her cloak concealed most of her body, but her delicate features glowed like warm cream in the moonlight. “Would you approve of the match?”
“Are you asking for my blessing, Maura?” He wrapped one of her curls around his finger, and gently tugged her head back so the back of her head rested on his upper chest.
“No.”
“Good. You won’t be getting it,” he said, his fingers spearing through her hair. “Rowan is the wrong gent for you.”
With his fingers entangled in her hair, Maura could not move out of reach without hurting herself. She closed her eyes, and viewed his closeness, his caresses as a test. He was gloveless, and she felt his nails scrape her scalp. Maura shivered. “A bold statement, Lord Everod.”
“Do you think so?” He buried his nose into her hair, and inhaled deeply.
She had never felt a man’s body aligned so intimately against hers, as if they were two pieces of one whole being. One of his hands glided down from her hair, and moved slowly until it rested on her left hip. Everod made no attempt to slip his hand between the folds of her cloak. Still, it burned like a brand through the layers of her clothing.
What had they been discussing? Maura frantically searched for the fraying threads of their earlier conversation, one neither of them seemed interested in finishing. All she could think about was his hand on her hip, and what he planned to do next.
“Strangers,” Maura blurted out, when she felt the tip of his tongue trace her ear. The stars beneath her eyelids were brighter than the ones she glimpsed in the night’s sky. “You c-cannot reject the likelihood of marriage involving two people that you scarcely know.”
His fingers flexed on her hip as he coaxed her face upward with his other hand until her lips hovered inches from his. “I do not have to befriend my brother to understand that you do not want him.”
Maura opened her eyes. Her throat felt parched, and her tongue sluggish as she stared longingly into Everod’s amber-green gaze. “I—”
“Hush,” he said, nipping her lower lip to chastise her. “No more lies. Better still, I dare you to prove me wrong.”
Prove him wrong? How was she supposed to convince him when her feelings for Rowan were so conflicted? Of course she loved Everod’s younger brother. Theirs was an affection born of familiarity, family, and years of friendship. What secretly worried Maura was the lack of passion between her and Rowan. The man had treated her like a brother for years, and now the family was urging them to marry. Her aunt believed all Maura desired was a proper courtship from Rowan, when what she really needed was time to muddle her way to her own conclusion.
“Why are you here? What do you want from me?” she asked, a part of her fearful of his answer.
His smile did little to reassure her. It reminded her of a large ravenous beast, who was preparing to devour her. “This.”
Everod slanted his mouth over Maura’s lips, effectively silencing her protest. If he had told Maura what he wanted in crude unseemly terms, she would have shoved him away and run into the sanctuary she thought Worrington’s town house provided. What the lady had not guessed was that there was no haven he could not breach if he desired.
And desire burned within him now.
He had only tarried in the gardens with the hope of glimpsing her from the window. Maura had made it ridiculously easy for him when she strolled into the gardens to avoid listening to Lord and Lady Worrington’s argument. Rowan’s appearance and parting kiss had sealed the lady’s fate. Everod would not be satisfied with a single kiss as his younger brother had been.
Releasing her lips, he stared broodingly down at her. Maura’s lips were parted as she panted quietly. Her sensitive skin was unused to a man’s impatience. Already, her lips were slightly fuller and gleamed as if dipped in nectar. Everod had barely sampled the sweetness of her luscious mouth, and he hungered for more.
He spun her around. Instinctively, Maura placed her hands on his chest to prevent him from pressing intimately against her. Unbeknownst to her, his cock filled his breeches like an iron bar. He longed to rub the rigid length down the cleft of her bare buttocks, and watch her tremble in anticipation. When he had her begging and wild with need, he wanted to part her sweet thighs and plunge his cock into her drenched sheath as he took her from behind.
“You cannot be frightened of my kisses,” he said, shackling her wrist and dragging her to his chest.
She struggled to free her wrists, but soon understood that he was not finished with her. “I never said I was,” was her haughty reply.
Everod pulled her deeper into the gardens. He had played there as a boy, and did not need much more than the moon to light his way. “Of course you are,” he teased, spinning her around until she was lightheaded. “Of course you are.” He caught her by the waist. “I know your secret, Maura Keighly.” He bent his head to her ear. “Shall I tell you what you have not told a living soul?”
Maura shook her head in mute denial.
He had slipped his hands under her cloak, enjoying the warmth and female curves the garment concealed. “You fear my kisses because you desire them above all others.”
She made a scoffing noise at his smug declaration.
Keeping her tightly pressed against him with one hand, he cupped her cheek with the other. He sensed she was biding time in hopes that he would grow careless, thus giving her a chance to escape.
Everod might on occasion be impulsive, but he was not neglectful with what he considered his. “You wanted me to kiss you this afternoon,” he said, brushing his mouth teasingly over hers.
“I had no such wish. You, Lord Everod, are delusional!” she said, straining against him to avoid his questing lips.
“You used to call me by name. As if we were—”
“Brother and sister!” she hissed, unaware that her squirming was inflaming him more than her earlier submissiveness.
“Lovers.” Everod ended her defiance by overwhelming her with another bruising kiss. “Say my name. Just once. Your tongue will not blacken and rot if you grant me this indulgence.”
He had not given anyone leave to use his Christian name in twelve years. “Townsend” was a family name on his mother’s side. The surname dated back to the fifteenth century. Like his dear mother, the descendants from the noble lineage had perished long ago. Maura had been one of the few individuals who had not called him by his title. After he had been cast aside by his family, he had become Everod. Any lover foolish enough to risk calling him by his first name would have sorely regretted her boldness.
Until now.
Everod wanted to hear Maura whisper his name. “Have you forgotten it?”
Maura hesitated. “If I say your name, will you permit me to return to the house?”
He nuzzled her cheek to prevent her from glimpsing the triumph in his gaze. She thought to bargain with him, when she had already lost the battle. Everod could only marvel at her naivety. “You have my word,” he promised solemnly as he released her.
Confident that she had won, she took a step backward to place some distance between them. “Very well.” It was then that she noticed he had lured her farther from the house than she had assumed. “Townsend,” she said pleasantly, nodding her head as if she expected him to behave like a trained dog performing at Astley’s.
Maura had much to lear
n about him.
Everod did not step aside. “Forgive me, but after twelve years, I expected something more,” he said apologetically.
“More?” she asked warily.
He gestured vaguely. “More intimacy. More passion.”
“More’s the pity, I lack both.” Maura tried to dismiss him by walking around him. He lazily caught her wrist and tugged her to his side. She was not leaving until he was finished with her.
“Lying scoundrel!” She seethed at what she perceived as deception on his part. “You swore that I could return to the house once I uttered your name.”
“And I will keep my promise,” he said soothingly. “Eventually.”
Maura wanted to kick something for being tricked. Everod was having too much fun to allow her to escape so easily. Worse still, it was pride that was spurring her anger and stubbornness. She did not want to leave him. Duty and responsibility awaited her in the Worrington household. Everod had always represented freedom and adventure. Maura had not realized until she had seen him again, how much she missed him.
Alone in the gardens with Everod, she found it effortless to believe there was something magical about the night. What harm comes from a few stolen kisses? her mind whispered enticingly. When the sun rose, the fragile truce she and Everod shared would evaporate with the morning dew and the cold stranger would return. The man who considered her the enemy, though her heart fiercely rejected the notion.
“Come now, Maura. It is unlike you to give up without a fight,” he said, stalking her until she bumped up against one of the stone walls segmenting the garden. “Perhaps if you say my name and kiss me sweetly on the lips, I may be content to let you run off to your warm bed.”
“More games, my lord?” she asked tartly.
Everod laughed, appreciating her wit “Yes, love. Most scoundrels love to play wicked games. Are you brave enough to risk losing your virtue to me?”
Something dark and foreign pooled in her loins. Maura shivered. “Touch me, and I will scream,” she threatened.
“Without a doubt,” he said, his swift agreement sounding suspiciously like a promise. “So are you going to kiss me, lovely Maura, or do you want me to make you?”
She gasped at his impropriety. “Are you completely without scruples?”
“Undeniably.” He braced his arms against the stone, caging her with his embrace. “And you are delaying the inevitable, Maura Keighly.”
The kiss.
“Oh, very well,” she said ungraciously, huffing as if it would be a great hardship to suffer the caress of his mouth. “Bend down. My neck cracks every time I—”
Everod picked her up and plopped her bottom on the top portion of the waist-high wall. “I may lack scruples, but I loathe inconveniencing a lady willing to kiss me.”
He was laughing at her again. His amber-green eyes gleamed, daring her to be reckless.
Kiss him.
Later, she would not be able to comfort herself with the knowledge that he had forced her. Maura straightened her shoulders as she prepared to show him that she was not afraid of him or his bone-melting kisses.
Using her hands to balance herself on the stone wall, Maura leaned forward, her lips slightly parted. Everod was poised directly in front of her, his arms crossed. His condescending smirk told her that he believed that she lacked the courage. Well, she would show him!
Maura toppled off her precarious perch. She would have fallen headlong onto the ground, if Everod had not caught her to him. He grunted as her outstretched hands hit him in the chest. Maura seized his cravat and pulled his head down until his mouth covered hers.
The sounds of the night seemed to fade away as she favored his lips with soft, moist pecks. Everod moaned against her mouth. Encouraged, Maura’s fingers released his cravat and moved higher, finding purchase around the viscount’s neck. He tightened his hold and her lips parted in surprise at his strength. Everod took advantage of the breach. A conqueror at heart, Everod speared his tongue into the moist recesses of her mouth, claiming and teasing her to respond.
Her body instinctively understood. Heat spread over her breasts as she felt her nipples harden into painful points against her corset. Maura lightly brushed her tongue against his, and the intimate caress made her dizzy with excitement. A longing was building within her, threatening to burst if she did not seek relief. The sensation bordered on pain, making her restless as she strained her body against him. Maura wanted something more from him. Whatever it was, it was more dangerous than a simple kiss.
She slowly, reluctantly, pulled away. “Townsend,” she murmured, her husky voice filled with wonderment. Maura smiled up into his face, shaken by the desire of wanting to kiss him again.
“Ah, lady, you tempt me,” he sighed.
Instead of accepting her unspoken invitation, Everod lowered her until her feet were firmly on the ground again. With the impersonal touch of a handmaid, he briskly brushed her skirts back into place.
He was letting her go.
After the fiery passion of their shared kiss, Everod’s rejection stung. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Your dedication to the task was admirable. Consider our bargain fulfilled. You may return to the house as I had promised,” he said. His limbs seemed rigid as he coaxed her away with a not-so-subtle shove in the proper direction.
She should be grateful. Everod had clearly grown weary of teasing her, and now was content to send her away. Maura tried not to pout, but she was hurt the kiss meant little to him. While the night concealed her private mortification caused by his dismissal, she was equally frustrated that his expression was shrouded by the shadows.
Maura walked away from him and then halted. “Were you not pleasured by our kiss?” She winced, furious that the slight wobble in her inflection revealed more than she desired. “No, do not answer. It was a foolish question. Good evening, Lord Everod.”
She had heard ladies whispering about him. He had kissed a legion of women, had bedded a score or more. Why would one awkward kiss at midnight mean anything to a scoundrel like him?
He grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her back into his embrace before she reached the steps to the terrace. His hand cupped the back of her head as he forced Maura to look up at him. “You seem so innocent,” he mused, his amber-green eyes glowing with an inner fire as he studied her face. “It seems impossible, knowing your deceitful aunt had a hand in raising you. Georgette abhors anything she can never hope to attain. She corrupts out of spite.”
“My lord, although I love my aunt, I am not her,” Maura said evenly.
“Innocent or deceitful temptress … I am not certain the truth will alter our fate,” he said, sliding his hand down her left arm until he captured her hand. Everod brought her hand, not to his heart as she had expected, but to the apex of his breeches. Maura would have recoiled if he had not held her hand, making her caress the unyielding bulge of his arousal.
“A woman’s pleasure is a powerful aphrodisiac,” he murmured, nuzzling the top of her head with his chin. “If a mere kiss arouses me, I look forward to stretching you out on my bed and fucking you until there is no doubt in your curious brain that I was well pleasured.”
Maura snatched her hand away from his breeches, away from the rigid, scorching length he intended to plunder her body with if she lingered in his company. “I am not one of your mistresses,” she said, edging away from him. “A lady you can dally with for a time and discard on a whim. I am a nobleman’s daughter. An innocent.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Innocent or not, our differences will not matter. Verily, you will squirm like any other greedy wench who has a passionate gent betwixt her thighs. You will claw and beg, shouting my name as I bury myself over and over into your clinging, tight wetness until we burn out the ravenous need that simmers just beneath the surface.”
Maura trembled as the unbidden image of them coupling shimmered in her mind. It was her misfortunate that she understood the ravenous need that Everod spoke of. Li
ke the man before her, its mysterious nature and tantalizing promises of rapturous delight and adventure beckoned her to be daring. She had felt nothing more than annoyance when Rowan kissed her. Why did his elder brother effortlessly fascinate her? Whether he sought revenge or simply his own pleasure, Lord Everod was not the sort of gentleman a decent lady married. To love him would only lead to a broken heart.
Love.
Oh, God! Had she already fallen in love with the scoundrel? Without a word, Maura dashed up the steps as fast as she could manage in her long skirts, and slipped into the house. She could hear Everod softly chuckle at her hasty retreat.
“Dream of me, sweet lady.”
His last words taunted her until exhaustion finally claimed her.
Chapter Thirteen
“I had hoped that you would find your way here,” Fayne Carlisle, Duke of Solitea, said, opening his door to Everod. “Cadd and Ram had planned to visit Moirai’s Lust and a few of your favorite haunts to see if they could catch up with you.”
Everod removed his hat, and combed his hair back with his hand. “Some of my favorite places are not fit for a married gent like Ram. His countess will likely try to castrate me if her man runs into trouble.”
Or one of my former mistresses.
The two men headed for the library. It was two o’clock in the morning. In a matter of hours, the servants would be stirring from their beds. For as long as Everod could recall, there wasn’t an hour in which his friend had not opened the door for him. He valued Solitea’s friendship, and the sense of family the Carlisles had tried to bring to his life.
“Where is your duchess?” He kept his voice low until they entered the library. He did not want to awaken the household.
“Asleep.” Solitea gestured to the decanter of brandy, but Everod shook his head. He did not need his thoughts muddled any more than they were.
“The babe makes her tire easily, and the stomach sickness has been striking her at odd moments,” Solitea explained, his green eyes reflecting his private worries about the lady who was his entire world. “She despises what she perceives as weakness in herself. Gypsy tries to be helpful, but that girl has a talent for turning the simplest task into utter chaos.”
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