Barbara Pierce

by Naughty by Nature

  Her thoughts turned to Meredith.

  The young woman had been incredible this evening. Only Patience and Lord Ramscar knew how difficult it had been for Meredith to smile and chat with the dowager duchess’s friends. Patience had noticed on several occasions that Lord Halthorn had engaged Meredith in a private conversation. The viscount had given her a pretty seashell. Lord Ramscar had raised his brows when his sister showed him Lord Halthorn’s gift, and thankfully resisted sharing his true thoughts. Nevertheless, Patience doubted a negative opinion would have deflated Meredith’s enthusiasm. She was treating Lord Halthorn’s gift like it was a handful of the rarest diamonds.

  Ramscar had kept a respectful distance from Patience for most of the evening. He only approached her when other people were hovering around her. She had danced with his charming friends Lord Byrchmore and Lord Everod and Lady Fayre’s husband, Mr. Brawley. Patience was not even aware of how deeply she had been anticipating an invitation from Lord Ramscar until her hopes had been utterly dashed. At the end of the evening, he had placed her and Meredith in the family coach and bid them a good night.

  He had remained behind.

  Patience crossed her arms across her breasts and rubbed away the slight chill she felt on her arms. She loathed admitting it, but she was still stinging from his intentional slight. It was because of the actress, Meredith confided to Patience on their drive back to the town house. Angeline Grassi. Lord Ramscar apparently had a fondness for actresses of the legitimate theater. Although he had denied it to Meredith, she was convinced the woman was his current mistress. The woman had sought him out this evening for an assignation.

  He is with her now.

  Oh, how it hurt! Patience had glimpsed him sharing secrets with Miss Grassi. Meredith was correct. The actress had touched him with a familiarity that reeked of intimacy. From the brief passion that had flared between them, she had deduced that Lord Ramscar was a virile, demanding lover. He obviously desired a lover who matched his voracious appetites, not an unskilled miss who had been coerced with pain into pleasuring her one and only lover.

  Patience sighed. She leaned down, letting her finger trail along the surface of the water.

  It was still warm.

  Bending over, she grabbed the hem of her chemise and pulled the soft linen over her head. Wholly bare, she glanced at the door. Patience knew it was locked. She had seen to the task herself once the footmen had emptied the last bucket of steaming-hot water and departed the room with a ribald comment that it was a shame she was unwilling to share her bath. The footmen meant no offense. It was harmless teasing. Still, a sense of unease rippled through her. She glanced at the windows. The draperies were tightly drawn. Why could she not shake off the feeling of being watched?

  Patience wrinkled her nose. She was being silly.

  It was late and the servants had retired to their quarters. No one cared whether or not Lady Meredith’s hired companion was indulging in a bath. Laughing softly, she stepped into the elegant tub. The warm water felt heavenly. She had never bathed in anything so lovely or whimsical. Hewn from wood, the tiny exterior of the tub was carved into the shape of a sea horse. A child would have been able to sit comfortably within it. Patience might have been able to squeeze into the narrow interior, but the thought of becoming stuck kept her from trying. A small ledge had been designed at the back so bathers could sit down while they washed.

  Patience reached into the water and retrieved the large sea sponge. She held it high and squeezed. Water sluiced over her hair and face, momentarily blinding her. A muffled noise to her right had her whirling around and wiping the water from her eyes.

  She was not alone.

  Blinking rapidly to clear her blurring vision, she realized Ramscar stood off in the corner of the room, silently watching her from the shadows.

  Even in the dim light, she saw the feral hunger burning in his hazel green gaze.

  Her mouth went dry. Patience had nothing to conceal her nakedness from him. She would have to get out of the tub and move closer to him to reach the towels she had set aside. Her damp hair covered her breasts. She slowly lowered the large sea sponge to her sex.

  “I locked the door. How did you get in?” she quietly asked. Patience was more curious than angry at his intrusion.

  He stepped out of the shadows into the small ring of light the fire in the hearth and branch of candles on the table provided. He wordlessly stalked her, approached her in a casual fashion as if not to frighten her. “I was waiting for you.”

  It was a simplistic reply to actions that would complicate everything between them. When had he returned to the house?

  “You stayed behind. I thought you were with—” She abruptly closed her mouth. Heavens, she was not about to mention his mistress. Patience was fiercely pleased he was not with Angeline Grassi. The thought of him pleasuring the actress with his hands and mouth, of him mounting her and finding satisfaction in her long, lithe body, was a disagreeable one. Then why was she resisting him, hesitating over what they could have together?

  As he came up to the edge of the tub, Patience noticed his breeches did little to conceal his arousal. “Did you want a bath?”

  Ramscar gave her a wry grin. “I want to share yours.”

  Patience glanced at the interior and giggled. “For once, you were rather shortsighted, my lord. If you desired to bathe with me, you should have commissioned a larger tub.”

  Admiring the way her puckered nipples were poking through her damp hair, he absently nodded in agreement. “I will have one commissioned tomorrow.”

  While he had been waiting for her, he had unknotted and removed his cravat. His coat had also been discarded. He had come to her room intent on seducing her. Her toes curled at the thought. “I was rather accommodating, was I not?” Patience stared down at her naked body. He had observed her as she had removed her clothing, and it had aroused him. She carefully sat down on the narrow ledge.

  “Yes.”

  The scoundrel did not even try to lie.

  Rolling her eyes, she threw the wet sponge at him. It hit him squarely in the chest. Ramscar caught it and tossed the sponge into the tub. “What would you have done if I had not ordered a bath?” she asked.

  He pulled his shirt over his head. “The outcome would have still been the same.”

  The man’s arrogance was truly insufferable.

  She was tempted to throw the sponge at him again. “No.”

  “Protest if you must, my pretty lady.” She looked away when his hands moved to his waist. “We both know this night was inevitable.”

  Patience was too stubborn to concede gracefully. She had suffered all evening because he had stayed away from her. Oh, when she thought of him smiling at that Angeline Grassi, while she prayed he would ask her to dance. She wanted to punish him for the misery he had inflicted on her heart. Closing her eyes, she listened as he removed his shoes, stockings, and, finally, breeches. Each item had a distinct muffled sound as it was discarded. She felt the searing heat of his body beside her.

  “Has a man ever bathed you?”

  Her eyes snapped open at his rude question. The way he was grinning at her, Patience could tell that he was deliberately baiting her.

  “Dozens. Nay, legions,” she brazenly lied. “This is the first time I have bathed alone in years!”

  “I must respectfully disagree,” he said, retrieving the sodden sea sponge.

  Her right brow lifted quizzically. “Are you calling me a liar, Lord Ramscar?”

  Ramscar shot up and nipped her lower lip before she could react. “No, Patience. I am just reminding you that you will not be bathing alone.”

  Patience was fuming and wet, but Ram thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever been blessed to view naked. It took every ounce of his restraint to refrain from scooping her out of the tub and carrying her to the bed. Once he had her spread out beneath him, he would show her what they had been denying themselves.

  She had looked so delect
able this evening. As he watched her flirt and dance with his friends, it had taken all of his control not to separate her from the gentlemen she had partnered, throw her over his shoulder, and carry her off into the night. Instead, he had stayed away from her and brooded. He regretted that his coolness had hurt her feelings. At one point in the evening, Angeline had cornered him and Patience had seen them together. Even from a distance, he saw the hurt glittering in her blue gaze.

  Angeline had whispered to him that she was willing to cast aside her new lover. She was repentant for her faithlessness. In her meager defense, she claimed that she had missed Ramscar terribly and it was a fit of anger that had provoked her to invite another man into her bed. If Ram left the ball with her, she was prepared to forgive him for ignoring her all these long months.

  Ramscar’s self-imposed celibacy and his unfulfilled desire for Patience had him briefly contemplating his former mistress’s enticing invitation. Losing himself in a willing woman who would expect nothing from him except an expensive token of his appreciation the next day seemed preferable to spending another night denying himself the vulnerable lady who ensnared his senses and made him half-mad with lust.

  Or it had seemed appealing, until he had seen Patience’s woeful expression when he had escorted the ladies to their coach. In that moment, he knew it was not just a willing woman he hungered for; he wanted Patience.

  Ramscar picked up the soap ball poised on the lip of the tub and rubbed it against the sponge.

  She frowned at his benign actions. “What are you doing?”

  Setting the soap down, he bent over and lifted her leg out of the water. “I thought I was being obvious. I am washing you.”

  Fearful that she would slip off the ledge, she gripped the sides of the sea horse–shaped tub while he scrubbed her leg. Her telling gaze lingered just below his navel. “Your actions are not the only thing that is evident.”

  Ram sighed as he glanced down. His cock was fully erect and primed for mating. There was little he could do to hide his present condition. With his cock jutting from its hairy nest, he could not blame Patience for assuming he would lunge for her. The instinct to take her simmered just below his civility. He released her leg and lifted the other one.

  “A natural reaction to your proximity. Perhaps it will abate with familiarity,” he said, his inflection hopeful, though he doubted his own words. “Stand up.” He let go of her shapely limb.

  “You cannot wash me there,” she said emphatically, crossing her arms over her breasts.

  If she needed coaxing, Ram did not mind in the least. “Evidently, I am quite capable, and I am enjoying the view immensely. Now stand up so I can scrub your charming backside.”

  Patience rolled her eyes at him, but she stood, presenting him her back. He had not been exaggerating when he told her that he liked her back. Soaping the sponge again, he moved her hair to the front so he could appreciate her silky flesh. Ram pressed his thighs against the edge of the tub. His cock poked her in the hip. She did not screech or jump away, and he thought her silence was very telling.

  He dipped the sponge into the water and rinsed the soap off her back. “You are still out of reach,” he said, wanting to rub his arousal against the soapy cleft of her buttocks. Ram circled around to the back and straddled the tub. Gently he sat down on the small ledge. The tub might have been too small for them to share, but he had a mutually satisfying compromise. “Much better. Come closer, Patience.”

  She inched closer to him.

  “Face me, lady,” he ordered throatily.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she complied. “I can wash myself, Ramscar.”

  He surprised her by handing over the sponge. “Then show me.”

  Patience accepted the sponge and with brisk efficiency washed her face and both arms. She was doing her best to avoid gazing at his swollen cock, but he had caught her nervously peeking at it a time or two.

  “Your breasts. It would be utterly criminal for you to ignore those beauties,” he prompted when she hesitated.

  Glowering at him, she washed her breasts with the enthusiasm of an elderly nun.

  Was she mad? Why was she rushing? Patience undoubtedly did not appreciate her breasts as much as he did. Ram halted her brisk movements by resting his hand on her hip.

  “Nicely done,” he praised her, grazing his nails against the contour of her hip. “However, there are other, more pleasurable ways to go about the task.”

  Patience sensed Ram was no longer content to stroke her with his hungry gaze. A man like him was born to conquer, to take what he desired. The sponge plopped into the water forgotten. She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. “Like this,” she whispered against his mouth.

  His manhood jerked in response. It heartily approved. “Show me again,” he softly entreated.

  She positioned herself between his legs and braced her hands on his shoulders. Her entire body tingled as her lips moved slowly, thoroughly, over his warm lips. Ramscar was a wondrous kisser. He knew the right amount of pressure to make her senses sizzle. The clever thrust and retreat he did with his tongue teased her to the point of mindless abandonment.

  Ramscar cupped her breasts and kneaded the pliant flesh. Her nipples plumped like succulent raspberries as each rubbed against his palms. He broke away from her mouth and nipped her on the chin with his teeth. Drawing her in closer, he suckled her left breast. A pleasurable contraction caused the muscled walls of her womb to quiver. Her sheath tightened almost painfully in anticipation. Only Ramscar had touched her in such a manner. Phoenix had only been interested in having a lover who attended to his needs. The man in front of her thought only of building on her pleasure.

  Patience moaned when his fingers stroked the cleft between her legs. Like her dreams of him and the night she had visited him in his bedchamber, the hot intimate feminine heat was slick with anticipation, the honeyed wetness permitting his fingers to penetrate her without discomfort. Her hand glided down his chest and shackled his jutting arousal. The hot flesh pulsed in her hand.

  He flicked his tongue over her nipple. “No more flirtatious games, Patience. You have distracted me until I think of nothing but bedding you.”

  “You credit me with too much power, my lord,” she said, closing her eyes when his fingers fluttered within her feminine sheath. “I wager no lady has held sway over you for long.”

  Ramscar did not seem to hear her. He was too intent on exploring her body. He withdrew his fingers from her snug sheath and tasted the moisture coating them. “Just as I thought. Your desire tastes like a spicy temptress’s brew meant to ensnare a man’s senses.” He kissed her hip bone. “Consider me enslaved.”

  Without asking, he hooked his hand around her right thigh. Patience locked her arms around his neck while he silently coaxed her down so she straddled him. The position opened her, leaving her feeling awkward and vulnerable. She glanced down between their bodies and watched as the length of his manhood rubbed enticingly against her sex.

  Ramscar threaded his fingers through her long damp hair, pushing her tangled tresses to the back. “Lift your hips slightly.”

  At her blank look, he grasped her by the waist and raised her high enough to position the thick head of his manhood over her feminine portal. Patience squirmed against the uncompromising pressure of his commanding penetration. She always disliked this part. This aspect of him did not resemble her dream at all. The earl was too big!

  “You can,” he said, deducing her panicked thoughts. “Easy now.” Adjusting his angle a degree, he eased into her sheath with tiny upward thrusts until she could wrap her legs around his hips.

  Patience rested her cheek against his shoulder. His arousal stretched her, making her wholly aware of his invasion. There was no pain, but she could not fathom how to move. “I never dreamed that you were so large.”

  He smiled into her hair. “You dreamed of me? Of us as lovers?” He sounded pleased by the notion.

  She nipped his shoulde
r with her teeth. The man’s arrogance would not be contained if she confirmed his suspicions. “No. A slip of the tongue. I was thinking of another,” she lied.

  “Witch!” Ramscar swatted her backside. “I’ll show you how to use that wicked tongue of yours properly.” He fastened his mouth firmly to hers and devoured. He did not release her lips until they were both breathless. Panting, he said, “On the morrow, you will think of no other man but me.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Patience Winlow was a capricious creature. Part innocent, part temptress, the lady fascinated him. Ram tried to dampen his raging ardor by reminding himself that she was a skillful actress. She had had previous lovers and, perhaps, had practiced this blood-thrumming façade to perfection. She had succeeded in whetting his interest, and now he was fully prepared to reward her for her efforts.

  The little actress would soon learn she was caught in her own sensual snare.

  “You fit me quite nicely,” he said, gritting his teeth as he helped her slide up and down his rigid cock. He had adjusted his legs and secured them against the exterior of the sea horse–shaped tub so he could better control their movements.

  Patience sighed on a downward stroke and leaned closer to place little kisses along his brows. She continued across his cheek, her goal his ear. Ram turned his head to accommodate her. She bit his earlobe and then flicked the tip of her tongue over a sensitive spot just behind his ear.

  A soft purr of contentment vibrated in her throat. “You are very cunning.”

  “I have always thought so,” he quipped, not really certain why she thought him so clever. Nor did he care while he held her wet, naked body against him.

  She opened one eye and studied his face. “You have placed me in a unique position.”