He snorted at the politeness infused in her observation while his cock was buried so deep into her tight sheath that he could feel her heart beating. “When you tire of this one, I know several more that will amuse you.”
Her brows furrowed at his boast. “Are they equally deceptive?”
“Deceptive?” He bucked up against her so she was aware of every inch of him. “I thought I was being extremely conspicuous.”
She silently stared at him, clearly taken aback by his crudeness. “I was not speaking of it, you silly man!” She laughed and playfully shoved him on the shoulder. “I was referring to this position, me on top of you. I should be the one who has all the control, and yet—”
Ah, he immediately grasped what she was trying to explain. She seemed genuinely baffled by her predicament. As he had first suspected, her experience in carnal matters had been very limited.
“And yet you seem vulnerable to my whims.” To prove his point, he ground his pelvis against her hard enough to make the tub rock and quake.
Patience dug her nails into his shoulders. She pressed her forehead to his. “Yes. Very much so.”
Ram slid his hands over her firm buttocks, savoring the building tension he was creating in both of them with his relentless thrusting. He did not know if he could give Patience the control she was asking for. He had been born to protect and dominate those under his rule. His previous lovers had found him indulgent and creative in bed. However, there had never been any doubt that he was in charge.
“You’ll learn,” he murmured, nuzzling her throat and losing interest in the subject. Ram loved the way her breasts still slick with soap rubbed against his chest. Unfortunately, the tiny sea horse–shaped tub had never been designed for the rigorous demands of lovemaking. It rocked stern to bow with each shattering thrust. The water within slapped against the sides like a tumultuous sea.
“Oh, Ramscar! I feel—” Patience tossed her head back and cried out as her climax overwhelmed her.
Her glorious uninhibited abandonment was a siren’s call for Ram’s taut body. Quickening his movements, he sensed his own release was approaching. Their frenetic movements had made the small tub extremely unstable. It rocked in tempo, sending Ram deeper than he could have managed alone. Heedless of the potential danger, he buried his face into her breast and hastened his strokes.
“Oh-oh—Ram!” Patience cried out, another orgasm claiming her. She sank her sharp teeth into his shoulder as she mindlessly rode him.
His restraint shattered, Ram pulled her up tightly against him, his cock swelling in anticipation of the impending release. The subtle shift in weight capsized the small overburdened tub. Entwined with Patience, Ram fell backward. The back of his head and his back collided with the hardwood floor. He grunted at the impact as lukewarm water washed over them.
Horrified that he had been hurt, Patience crawled off him and immediately began searching for injuries. “Good grief, Ramscar. Where does it hurt?”
Everywhere.
He could not answer her. The blasted fall had knocked the air out of his lungs. A pity the pain and lack of air had done nothing to quell his ardor. He curled his hand around his cock and rolled onto his side away from her. His body would not be denied. Ram clenched his teeth as his fingers squeezed the swollen head of his cock. To his utter mortification, he pumped his seed onto the floor.
Patience picked up a towel and returned to Ramscar’s side. He was breathing heavily, and his body quaked. With his fist curled tightly around his manhood, she averted her gaze, realizing he was not as injured as she had initially feared.
She knelt at his side, facing his back. “I brought you a towel,” she said softly. “We have made a real mess. I doubt Scrimm will grant me another bath.”
Ramscar blindly reached for the towel she offered him. He pulled the cloth over his hips. “Christ, it was a debacle!”
Her lower lip quivered at his harsh statement. Until they had capsized the tiny tub, she had thought their lovemaking extraordinary. “My apologies, my lord. As you have just discovered, my experience in these matters is very limited. You should have accepted Miss Grassi’s generous invitation if you desired a seasoned companion.”
Despite the water pooling on the floorboards, Ramscar rolled toward Patience; his hot gaze lashed her. “I have no intention of discussing my former mistress with you,” he said succinctly, rubbing the damp towel against his groin.
So Meredith had been correct about the couple’s relationship, after all.
He carelessly tossed the towel aside. It was impossible not to notice the earl was still aroused. Oblivious to his nakedness, he climbed to his feet. “Furthermore, the only debacle is me! Ever since that day I kissed you by the pond, I have anticipated the day I would lay you down onto my bed and sate myself between your soft thighs.” Thoroughly disgusted, Ramscar gestured at the watery mess at their feet. “And what do I do? I crack my skull and spine in one ruthless blow, and then hastily spill my seed as recklessly as a youth who has never glimpsed a woman’s bared breast.”
He stomped across the wet floor and pulled her up against his hard muscled body. “I did not want Angeline Grassi in my bed this evening. Whatever we shared was brief, and ended months ago.” He lowered his head and rubbed his nose against Patience’s. “You were so beautiful this evening. I wanted to challenge every gentleman who approached you.”
The coolness of the air made her shiver and snuggle closer for warmth. “You never asked me to partner you in a dance.” Patience bit her lip, regretting her words. Now he knew how disappointed she was that he had not danced with her.
Ramscar roguishly grinned at her admission. His nails lightly scraped the length of her spine. “I was trying to be noble.”
Noble? By ignoring her, yet speaking to his former mistress? Patience’s eyes narrowed at his unlikely excuse. “Maybe we should mop up this water with a few towels.”
“I was. Truly,” he said, cupping her buttocks and maneuvering her closer. The length of his arousal pressed against her belly. “I had vowed to keep my hands off you. Each time I was close to you, I felt myself weakening. I knew if I touched your hand while we danced, all was lost.”
The hurt she had experienced from the slight vanished with his explanation. A soft cry erupted from her lips when he scooped her up into his arms. “Did the fall addle you? Put me down.”
“I will.” Ramscar carried her over to her bed. He dropped her onto the bed. She bounced as she fell against the mattress. Covering her with the length of his body, he parted her legs and promptly slid his manhood into her until she gasped. “Our first time was a minor debacle, but I’m a gent who learns from his errors.”
Imbedded to the hilt, he moved his hips against her and flexed. She threaded her fingers into his hair and moaned.
“Let me prove it to you.”
After his first invigorating thrust, Patience forgot all about mopping up the water that was ruining the floor.
Patience awoke the next morning alone.
Shoving her tangled hair from her face, she sat up with a yawn. It was then that she realized she was naked. She glanced down at her body, viewing it differently than she had before Ramscar had stepped out of the shadows and offered to bathe her. As she had guessed, the earl was a virile, demanding lover. There was not an inch of her that he had not touched with his skillful fingers or tongue. The stickiness between her thighs reminded her of the hidden places he had eagerly plundered.
Ramscar had been quite thorough.
After he had carried her to the bed, he had proved to her that any doubts she might have had about his stamina or expertise as a lover were unfounded. Panting and sobbing his name, she had climaxed four times before he had sought his own release. Once he was sated, Patience had expected him to pull out of her body and leave her. Phoenix had always pushed her out of the bed once his needs had been satisfied.
Ramscar surprised her again.
He had rolled her onto her back and massaged her
body, beginning with her feet. Grinning at the memory, she idly rubbed her finger over the two bite marks he had left on her breast. By the time he had worked his way up to her breasts, his love play had suddenly turned serious. Parting her legs, he slipped easily into her and rocked against her until they were both breathless.
Between the excitement of the ball and Ramscar’s carnal demands, Patience had collapsed into a deep sleep. She had awoken several hours later. Rolling over onto her side, she discovered that Ramscar was also awake. Wordlessly, he pulled her leg so it hugged his hip, and gently coaxed his manhood into her. The frenzied passion of the previous hours had given way to tenderness. When she climaxed, she took him with her. The sensation of him pulsing inside her in tempo with her own release had been overwhelming and glorious. She had wept in his arms for the sheer beauty of it.
Her tears no longer seemed to worry him. He had cuddled her against his side until they had both allowed exhaustion to claim them.
Patience retrieved her chemise from the floor. Pulling it on over her head, she winced when she noticed the dampness on the floor. Ramscar might not care about the condition of his floorboards; however, Scrimm would be very displeased with her once he learned of the mess.
She was not upset that Ramscar had left her while she slept. He was the Earl of Ramscar. Certain proprieties had to be maintained, not only for the staff but also for Meredith’s sake. His sister had been upset that Angeline Grassi had been his lover. Would Meredith be equally distressed to learn he had replaced the blond temptress with Patience?
Did one night of lovemaking turn her into Ramscar’s mistress? She was not exactly clear on the etiquette of taking a lover. However, one thing was certain—a gentleman did not install his mistress within his own household. It was expected that a gentleman would tuck his mistress away from prying eyes so he might inconspicuously visit her on occasion. Ramscar was not following the rules. Oh, how he must be crowing at his good fortune. As long as they were discreet, he could keep her in his household and summon her to his bed at a whim.
Patience glanced at the tiny bruise on her breast. She doubted she would be able to deny him if he came to her again. He had deliberately marked her as his. Strangely, she was not as unsettled by the idea as she should have been. She scooped up the wet towel he had discarded the previous evening and dropped the dripping cloth into the tub.
She froze at the soft knock on her door.
Patience cleared her throat. “Yes?”
“It is Meredith. May I enter?”
Patience stared at the door, appalled by the reasonable request. From her perspective, the rumpled bed and the carelessly discarded clothing were akin to a den of iniquity. “I have yet to dress.”
“Very well. I will wait for you on the stairs,” Meredith said through the door. She moved closer to the door. “You need to dress quickly. Something has happened. A man from Bow Street has been summoned and my brother is demanding your presence in the library.”
It was not the friendly summons she had anticipated. Why had a Bow Street Runner been sent for? Hastily, Patience dressed. The answers she craved awaited her downstairs.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
True to her word, Meredith had been waiting for Patience on the stairs. Sitting on one of the steps, Meredith had been admiring the seashell Lord Halthorn had given her. She stood at the soft sound of Patience’s approach.
“What has happened?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“One of my brother’s friends, the Duke of Solitea, entered the breakfast room unannounced. He mentioned that there had been a troubling incident at the ball, but he seemed reluctant to speak of it in front of me. They went into the library. My brother appeared an hour later to order Scrimm to send someone for a Bow Street Runner.” Meredith took a deep breath. “And you.”
The news did not bode well.
She touched Meredith on the arm, wanting to reassure her friend. “I am certain it is nothing.”
Patience descended the stairs and headed for the library.
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin before she knocked.
“Enter,” Ramscar said, his voice gruff and unwelcoming.
If Patience had hoped to glimpse her tender lover, she was about to be disappointed. When she walked into the library, she was confronted by two stern-faced gentlemen who were used to getting answers. She curtsied. “My lord, you sent for me?”
Both gentlemen rose from their chairs as she entered the room. Lord Ramscar had been seated at his desk, while the Duke of Solitea had casually propped his hip against the edge of the desk. She had evidently interrupted a serious conversation between the two gentlemen.
“Miss Winlow, thank you for your promptness. My apologies for disturbing you after our late evening,” Ramscar said as he gestured for her to sit. “May I present a good friend of mine, Fayne Carlisle, Duke of Solitea.”
Looking up through lowered lashes, Patience demurely curtsied. In spite of his grim expression, the duke was another striking specimen of male perfection. His long cinnamon hair was a darker hue than his sister’s and tied in a queue at his nape. Approximately the same age as Ramscar, he stood three inches taller than his friend. Lacking the flirtatious demeanor of his other friends Lord Everod and Lord Byrchmore, the duke observed her through unfathomable green eyes.
“Your Grace. I had the pleasure of meeting your sister, Lady Fayre, and her husband at the ball last evening. The family resemblance is quite noticeable,” Patience said, pretending not to react to the tension in the room.
The duke’s expression did not soften at the mention of his family. She swallowed thickly as she sat down in the chair the earl had offered. “Has something happened?”
Ramscar and the duke exchanged glances. It was the earl who answered her question. “Regrettably, yes. One of the guests had a valuable necklace stolen last evening.”
Patience bit her lower lip as she digested the news. If the earl had placed his hand on her chest, he would have been alarmed by its hammering tempo. “It is terrible news. Was her coach robbed on the drive home from the ball?”
The duke’s keen gaze was as unsettling as it was unrelenting. “The thief was brazen. He plucked the necklace from Lady Dewberry’s neck.”
Patience glanced away, wishing the victim had been anyone other than the Countess of Dewberry. The thief had superior taste. The necklace had caught Patience’s eye as well. It was exactly the sort of necklace the troupe would have stolen. Her breath caught in her throat. Patience glanced at Ramscar, silently urging him to meet her gaze.
He ruthlessly ignored her mute plea.
It was then that the knowledge seeped into her chaotic thoughts.
Both men were aware of her brief altercation with the countess.
“Lord Ramscar … Your Grace … am I being accused of this theft?” she asked, clasping her hands so tightly together that her knuckles were bloodless.
“No,” the earl angrily snapped.
The duke shot his friend an amused glance. The humor faded when the duke’s green gaze fixed on her face. “Naturally, everyone is concerned about the theft. Anyone who spoke with Lady Dewberry is being questioned.”
“Someone might have witnessed the theft or noticed a stranger lingering near the countess,” Ramscar added, Patience supposed as a belated attempt to ease her concerns.
Again, His Grace looked askance at his friend. “There is that possibility.” The duke returned his attention back to her. “Miss Winlow, this is an awkward situation that has been presented to me. I regret that we did not first meet last evening. My sister spoke very favorably of you. Ram also vehemently defends your good character.”
Patience’s eyes became misty with tears. The earl’s postures conveyed his annoyance about the entire subject. However, he had yet to glance at her. She blinked furiously at the stinging moisture threatening to ruin her composure.
“Neither of you has asked, but I will tell you. I did not steal Lady Dewberry’s necklace,” P
atience said, retrieving her handkerchief. She delicately sniffed.
Slightly uncomfortable that he had upset a lady his sister liked and Lord Ramscar considered under his protection, the duke shifted his stance. “The countess claims that you had seemed inordinately curious to know if the stones were genuine or paste.”
Patience shrugged negligently. “The workmanship was praiseworthy, even if its owner was not.”
The duke’s full lips twitched at her comment. “Everod had mentioned the countess and her companions had greeted you warmly.”
She crossed her eyes upon hearing Lord Everod’s version of the incident. “Lady Dewberry sought me out, Your Grace. I personally wished she had not bothered.”
Now more than ever.
Patience rose from her chair, her head high. “If I am not about to be hauled off to the magistrate in chains, may I excuse myself?”
The Duke of Solitea nodded. “My apologies for the intrusion, Miss Winlow. Dewberry has been pestering my mother since his hysterical countess realized her necklace had vanished, and naturally I was unwillingly pulled into the affair. When his lady pointed an accusatory finger in your direction, Lord Dewberry was determined to have an audience with you.” The duke’s expression revealed that he had done Patience a favor by sparing her from that particular ordeal. “For the sake of avoiding bloodshed, I thought it best that I act on his behalf.”
“Then I wish you well on your hunt, Your Grace.” Unsmiling, she inclined her head toward Ramscar. “My lord.”
Patience left the library as swiftly as she could without arousing either man’s suspicion. Oh, how she despised that hateful Lady Dewberry! If Patience had taken the countess’s precious necklace, she certainly would not have so boldly admired it in front of witnesses!
“Patience, wait!” Ramscar called after her.
She was in no mood to humor him. How could he have treated her so coldly after the passionate night they had shared?
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