Her fingers lazily trailed up his inner thighs to the pulsing manhood. If only she’d hurry and touch him, if only she’d enfold her hands over him—it would be heaven. And it was the instant her hand sheathed him. Just having her seductively stroke him felt wonderful.
“Oh—Marlee—Marlee—” He sounded like a drowning man, he was unable to breathe. His heart beat so fast and so hard that he feared he might die from the ecstasy of what she was doing to him. “Stop, stop.” Stopping was the last thing he wanted, but he didn’t think he could last much longer and he wanted to spill himself inside of her.
Lark lowered himself and knelt beside her. His kiss upon her lips was so fiery that the flames which had laid dormant inside of her the last few minutes flared anew. Lifting her onto his haunches, Lark positioned her legs around his waist and fitted her buttocks against him before entering her with a swift thrust.
Sheathing him with her warmth, she welcomed him into her body and moved urgently against him. Their lovemaking was instinctive, raw, and heated. Nothing kept them apart now. They belonged only to each other and gave fully of themselves. In perfect unison, their bodies exploded into ecstasy at the same moment.
Later, after the flush of passion had disappeared, Lark dipped his hand into the stream of water to spread sensuously across her chest and breasts. “To cool you off,” he said but Marlee knew he was washing her because he couldn’t stop touching her. She felt the very same way and their earlier passions ignited again, leaving them drained and deliriously contented.
The moon had risen higher by the time they dressed. Lark and Marlee walked arm in arm down the beach to the Gilbert home. “Do you think anyone missed you?” he asked and kissed her.
Marlee shook her head. “No. Lady Olivia allows me a great deal of freedom since I’m her guest. She’s been taken up with Bettina, which is as it should be.” Her voice broke, and she gazed at Lark with hope in her eyes. “You’ve really called off the engagement?”
“Yes, yes.” He assured her with another kiss. “I’ll never be dishonest with you again, Marlee. I swear on my father’s grave.”
Could she believe him? She must believe Lark and trust in him. He was her whole life. They stopped on the beach in front of the Gilbert home. When Lark took her in his arms, a mischievous spark emanated from his eyes. “You never did say which part of my anatomy you preferred most of all?”
“Which part do you think?” she teased and kissed the tip of his nose before breaking away and rushing into the house. Lark chuckled heartily for he now knew the answer to that question very well.
~
“What are you looking at, Bettina?” came Alastair’s voice from Bettina’s bed. “Are you going to stand by that window all night?”
“Hush or you’ll wake my parents,” Bettina commanded in a hoarse whisper.
“Hah! Your father was so tipsy that I helped put him to bed. No sooner had he rested his head on the pillow than he was snoring away. Your mother was already sound asleep, courtesy of the seven generous glasses of sherry she imbibed this evening. The house could tumble to bits around their ears and they’d never know it. Now what is so fascinating outside the window?”
Alastair rose nude from the bed and came to stand behind Bettina. He parted the lacy curtain and saw Marlee running back to the house, her figure and Lark’s were clearly visible in the moonlight. “Lady Arden is out quite late,” he noted with a sly grin, “and it seems she’s been strolling with none other than your faithful fiancé.”
“Be quiet, Alastair! You’re obnoxious.”
“Why? Because I tell the truth, dear Bettina? Admit to yourself that you don’t love Lark Arden and never did.” He turned her face to his. “You’ve always been in love with me, and you know it.”
She brushed aside his hand on her face and paced about the room, not the least bothered by her naked state. “I can’t let Lark cast me aside like an ill-fitting slipper, Alastair. I have to marry him. I want to be mistress of Arden’s Grove.”
“Damn, Bettina! Arden’s Grove is nothing in comparison to what I’ll be able to offer you one day. Some day I’ll be so wealthy that you’ll kick yourself in your pretty behind for not accepting my proposal.”
“Oh, yes.” She sniffed the air and placed her hands on her curvy hips. “You’re going to make a fortune, literally prosper from selling straw. Gold only comes from straw in fairy tales.”
“Then I shall offer you a fairy-tale life, my love.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Bettina decided that she didn’t understand Alastair’s empty dreams. Straw, indeed! All it was good for was feeding livestock, and now some aristocrats decided to wear it upon their heads in the form of hats. Alastair thought his fortune was secured because he was exporting straw by the shipload to England. He hadn’t changed one bit since she’d been gone. Alastair had always pined after that which he couldn’t have—like herself, for instance. He was ten years older than she and ever since she could remember, he’d lived with her family. His parents had died when he was quite young and Bettina’s parents had raised him. They had doted upon him and treated him as if he were their own son. She wondered what they’d think about Alastair if they learned just how long ago he’d started sneaking into her room each night.
Bettina had been fifteen years old when she woke one night to the most exquisite sensations she’d ever experienced between her slim thighs. She’d groggily opened her eyes and discovered Alastair between her legs. His head was bent over her, his mouth doing something unbelievably wicked to her, something she didn’t understand but wouldn’t protest because it felt so wonderful. They never spoke about this strange occurrence—and she never locked her door on the nights she wanted him to come to her again. For almost two years, she’d lain in her bed and waited for him, eagerly and wantonly parting her legs the moment she heard her door open.
Alastair taught her other things about sex, and the young Bettina had cherished every forbidden act, and Alastair had joked that she was insatiable. But she never intended to marry him, though she knew they were well suited. He wasn’t wealthy enough; he had no prospects of attaining that wealth. The day she’d left Bermuda with Lark, she had shed tears. Lark had thought that she was crying because she didn’t wish to leave her parents. She cried because she didn’t want to leave Alastair—ever.
But she must leave him when Lark married her. She found Lark to be a very attractive man, but why couldn’t she break this spell that Alastair had woven over her? Why must her perverted body ache for his possession? Things would be so much easier if Alastair would only leave her alone. But from the second she saw him again she knew she’d be unable to stay away from him. That first night on her return home, she didn’t lock her door. He had come to her, as she’d known he would. It was almost dawn before he sneaked back to his room, and once again, she was his willing slave. She’d not felt the least bit of guilt about their lovemaking even though Lark hadn’t broken the engagement at that time.
Now he had and discarded her for another woman. She didn’t know if her pride was hurt because of Marlee or the fact that if Lark didn’t marry her, she’d appear unworthy in the eyes of her family and friends. Everyone would wonder what had actually happened with Silva. Already she’d seen people whispering behind their hands about her. The servants even whispered about her when they thought she wasn’t in hearing distance. Lark had to marry her and save her reputation, she had to become mistress of Arden’s Grove. Nothing and no one would prevent that from happening, not even her twisted love for Alastair.
Alastair reclined on the bed and observed her with a lustful and hungry look. He never tired of this woman, he doubted he ever would. To Alastair’s eyes, Bettina was the most beautiful and perfectly formed woman in the world, and Lark Arden didn’t deserve her. Arden would never understand her as he did. The very fact that he’d broken the engagement was proof. Though Bettina hadn’t confessed the reason for the broken betrothal, Alastair guessed that it had something to do with the
pirate who’d kidnapped her. Apparently Lark couldn’t accept that Bettina wasn’t pure—that she might not have been virginal in any case. Alastair would stake his life that the virtuous Lark Arden hadn’t bedded Bettina before her kidnapping. Maybe if he had, the bastard wouldn’t be so swift to break the engagement. Bettina was a lot of woman for a man to handle. And Alastair knew just how to handle her. They shared the same heritage and blood, a perfect match. Somehow he was going to marry her, even if the little vixen protested the whole way down the aisle.
“Quit being so childish and start acting like a woman. You’re nearly twenty, time to stop your pouting and posturing.” Alastair didn’t smile at her like he longed to do. Bettina needed some sort of scolding to make her see reason. It was too bad that her father never took a paddle to her pretty rear. She’d been so spoiled and coddled that she couldn’t comprehend why Lark didn’t want her. But Alastair wanted her desperately.
“I’m a woman,” she persisted and formed her mouth into a moue. “You know how much of a woman I am.”
“Yes, me and how many others, my dear?”
“Oh! You’re as horrid as Lark!”
“No, I’m not like Lark,” he insisted. “I want you, faults and all. Come here, my pet, and be quiet.” Holding out his arms to her, Bettina hesitated only a second before settling into his familiar embrace. Minutes later Alastair thrust deeply inside her, stifling her wanton cries with his lips.
If only things could always be like this, she later thought before drifting off to sleep.
Things will always be like this, Alastair decided, and didn’t fall asleep.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Servants dressed in their finest livery waited in attendance upon the large flock of people who descended upon Lord Gilbert’s home for Bettina’s welcome-home party. Trays of meats, seafoods, and fruits were passed among the guests, the wineglasses filled with only the best of Lord Gilbert’s personal stock.
The candelabras had been lit, and the house glowed brilliantly. Happy chatter drifted throughout the dining room and ballroom, and there was no one happier than Marlee. After tonight, she and Lark would be free to leave Bermuda for Virginia. He’d promised her that he was going to tell Bettina’s parents that he and their daughter had mutually decided against marrying. After all the months of heartache, finally Marlee’s dream was becoming reality.
She’d just taken a sip of French champagne when Alastair Caine walked over to her. Though she thought the fair-haired Alastair was handsome, there was something about him that caused her flesh to crawl. Perhaps it was his smarmy smile that seemed to be continually in place, almost as if he were afraid to relax his guard around people. “Lady Arden, may I say that you are especially lovely tonight?”
Marlee inclined her head in acceptance of his compliment, a bit disturbed by the way his eyes swept over her. Suddenly she felt uncomfortable in the violet satin gown she’d recently purchased at the town dressmaker when his gaze remained glued to her bosom. To gain his attention to her face, she cleared her throat. “Bettina mentioned that you export straw to England.” At the mention of his cousin’s name, his gaze moved upward to her face and he smiled warmly.
“Yes. The straw is used to make hats—a very lucrative venture. Straw hats are the rage in London. I’ve turned a pretty profit recently. Strange how some people will buy something so common to perch on their heads. But as an astute gentleman of commerce, I’ll supply the necessary straw as long as it’s needed.” Alastair grinned at her. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”
He was boring but she wasn’t bored. There was too much activity at the Gilbert home, too many people to meet and converse with. But it was the thought of seeing Lark that night, of sneaking away to be alone. She existed for the moment when they would strip naked and make love for the rest of the night.
“Lady Arden, have you heard me?”
“What did you say? I’m sorry, Mr. Caine, my mind was wandering.”
“I said that Bettina seems to be having a merry time. “She’s a bit of a flirt, you know.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed,” Marlee replied but her sarcasm was lost on Alastair.
“She looks well despite her tribulations, don’t you agree?”
“Most definitely.” Marlee realized that Bettina looked better than well, she was incredibly beautiful in a gold gown which showed off her ample bosom and creamy skin to perfection. From the moment the unattached gentlemen had arrived, many of them military friends of Lord Gilbert’s, Bettina had been surrounded and admired. Her laughter drifted across the ballroom, her face glowed with excitement as one of the young officers led her onto the dance floor. Marlee couldn’t help but feel that Bettina’s attitude was quite odd for a young woman whose engagement had recently been broken. She appeared not to have a care in the world, not in the least crestfallen.
“Where is Lark?” asked Alastair. “He should be squiring his fiancée instead of these sea swains.”
“I believe he had things to look after on the ship,” she said and attempted to keep her expression blank. “He’ll be along, I’m certain.”
“Hmph! If Bettina were my fiancée, I wouldn’t let such a beautiful creature out of my sight for a moment.”
Marlee stole a glance at Alastair, her interest peaked. Could he be in love with Bettina? Or were these the outraged ramblings of a possessive relative?
Marlee was mercifully saved from any more of Alastair’s scathing comments by Holcombe who appeared at her elbow and asked if she’d care to dance. She gratefully accepted and was whisked onto the dance floor. “You should be dancing with a pretty young woman,” she told him.
“But I am, my lady,” he replied with a broad smile.
“Thank you, sir, but there are plenty of young ladies here who would love to dance with you, I’m certain. In fact, I’d wager that the young woman in the pink dress, speaking to Lord Gilbert, would like you to ask her. I’ve noticed that she’s cast more than an interested eye in your direction.”
Holcombe blushed and grinned. “I hope you’re right. I’ve been watching her all evening and I’d like to be introduced to her. Do you know her name?”
“Her name’s Arabella Landower and her mother is a great friend of Lady Olivia. I had tea with them just the other day. I think an introduction can be arranged,” Marlee assured the smitten young man.
When the dance ended, Marlee strolled with Holcombe over to where the shy Arabella stood with Lord Gilbert. After the introductions, Holcombe escorted Arabella Landower onto the dance floor.
“They make such a nice couple,” Lord Gilbert commented and patted his protruding abdomen. “Why, they’re as handsome a pair as my Bettina and Lark.”
Marlee couldn’t nod her head in agreement. She felt almost like a traitor to be a guest of Lord Gilbert and his wife when she knew that Lark didn’t love Bettina and would soon break the news to this kindly gentleman. If only this night were over. Lark had assured her that he’d tell Gilbert in the morning about the broken engagement, and then they’d be on their way to Virginia where she’d finally become Lark’s wife.
“I’d invite you to dance, Lady Arden, but I can’t. I do apologize.”
“That’s perfectly all right, sir, I heard you’d been ill and mustn’t overdo,” Marlee said.
“I’ll? Me?” Gilbert appeared confused and a bit annoyed with Marlee. “My dear, I’ve never been better. Just yesterday Doctor Manley said I shall live to be one hundred. However, I do have some joint pain, and that is all that precludes me from dancing. Wherever did you hear such an absurd rumor?”
Marlee stammered for words. She felt like a fool. Lark had told her that Gilbert wasn’t well, that he couldn’t speak to the man until after the party as not to upset him, to allow him to enjoy himself before he heard the distressing news. Where had Lark gotten such an erroneous idea? She floundered around for a way to extricate herself from this embarrassing situation when Lark suddenly appeared in the ballroom.
Suddenly she felt light-headed and lighthearted.
As always he looked magnificent but even more so in a wine-colored jacket and black satin trousers. The high sheen of his black boots caught the reflections from the lights. His dark gaze scanned the room for Marlee. When he found her watching him, his lips turned up in a slow, sensual grin that she recognized so well. Without words, he was telling her that he looked forward to their time alone after this party, to the moment he possessed her body and soul.
Reaching Marlee and Lord Gilbert, Lark bowed and kissed Marlee’s hand before shaking the older man’s hand. Marlee wondered if Gilbert heard the heavy beating of her heart but apparently not. He pounded Lark heavily on the back in a friendly gesture. “I wondered what had happened to you, Lark,” Gilbert said and laughed. “I thought perhaps you’d decided not to join the party.”
“I’m sorry I was late,” Lark apologized, “but there were rumors of pirates being spotted offshore and I took out the ship to see if there might be a pirate vessel nearby.”
“Good heavens! Did you find one?”
“No, sir.”
Gilbert breathed a relieved sigh. “Ah, that’s good since most of the military men are here—and dancing with Bettina, I might add. You should be jealous, Lark. They’ve monopolized her every dance. But I think it’s your turn, now for here comes Bettina on the arm of young Lieutenant Carson.”
Bettina’s delighted laugh echoed throughout the ballroom when the music ended. She dashed toward Lark, young Carson barely able to keep up with her. “Lark, my darling,” she cried and flashed a radiant smile. She grabbed his arm, hanging onto his satin sleeve like a leech. “You were naughty to leave me at the mercy of such handsome young men. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming to the party.”
Pirate Hunter's Mistress (The Virginia Brides) Page 23
