by Lauren Smith
“Please, Vaughn,” she murmured, not sure what she was pleading for. She placed her gloved hands on his shoulders and dug her fingers in, holding on to him. He tilted her head up by placing his fingers under her chin.
“Oh, the things I could do to you…” His eyes raked over her before settling on her lips. “But I believe a kiss is what you deserve.” He removed his hand from beneath her chin and bit the tips of his gloved fingers, tugging the leather off his skin. He let the glove fall into the snow beside them.
“Yes, please kiss me.” Her gaze fixed on his mouth as she encouraged him. He had the most perfect lips, ones that were soft, warm, and sensual. The kind that drifted along her bare skin and melded with her own lips and seemed to erase the world around them until nothing else existed.
“Lift your skirts,” he growled in a dark and demanding tone.
She shivered and whispered back, “What? Why?”
Vaughn arched a brow in a way that she was coming to recognize—that she was treading on dangerous ground by questioning him. A lady who asked him to explain his seductions might end up with more than she expected. Vaughn had mentioned spanking once before. The idea had startled her at first, but his idea of a love pat was not one of cruelty or abuse but of pleasure. The thrill of thinking of him smacking his hand lightly on her bottom was undeniably erotic, and she wanted to experience it.
“Lift them now and ask me to kiss you, darling.” His voice was now low and smooth. “If you do it properly, I’ll reward you. Fail and I will punish your darling little bottom. I don’t care if I must bend you over my lap in the snow for all to see.”
Her heart hammered while she glanced around, afraid someone would see them. “But…”
His hand caught her chin, making her focus on him again. “No one will see us, darling. The men are too far off.” He swung his cloak over her left side, shielding her from anyone who might see them from that direction. “Now, raise your skirts and ask me for a kiss. And when you do, you will call me my lord.”
The confident set of his body as he moved back, giving her room to raise her skirts, was almost as infuriating as it was exciting. Perdita clutched her skirts and hiked them up, revealing her underpinnings. The cold air hit her legs and made her shiver.
“Please kiss me…” She hesitated, and her lashes lowered for a moment, but only a moment. “My lord.”
“Impertinent little creature. But that will do, for now.” His condescending tone made her bristle.
But she didn’t have time to reply. He swooped down on her, capturing her mouth in his. She nearly dropped her skirts, but his bare hand was suddenly between her thighs. He didn’t slip his fingers into her, not like he had in the library. He only touched the sensitive nub at the top of her mound. He pressed on it, then moved the pad of his finger in small circles over it.
She shivered and tried to wriggle away. It was too sensitive, made worse in the outdoor chill, but he gripped her throat with his other hand—not squeezing but holding her still in a gentle but possessive grip. She was a prisoner of his delicious torment. Arching her back, Perdita knew she had to surrender to him, and in that moment she wanted to.
His tongue traced the fullness of her lips as she kissed him back hungrily. His mouth was urgent, exploring and demanding. It was everything she loved about him.
The realization sent a jolt of sensations down her body to meet his fingertips between her thighs. She wanted to belong to him, to be the only woman who ever knew his dark side, one that matched her own.
We are twin souls curled around one another, always straining for that next kiss, that next lingering caress stolen at the right moment.
Her body shook as pleasure rolled through her. She leaned back against the tree, Vaughn’s cloak shielding her as the ripples of pleasure continued to flow through her. He teased her a few seconds more before he withdrew his hand and let her skirts fall back into place. He pulled his lips away from hers. They were close in body, but in that moment, she felt there was no distance between them at all. They could have been one being, one beating heart and soul.
When Vaughn’s lips curved into a smile this time, there was no wickedness to it, only a boyish delight. Her heart turned over at the sight. The cool intensity of his gaze was gone. She was seeing that secret part of him she’d longed for. It was as though she’d wandered into an old attic and come upon a portrait covered in old curtains. She’d pulled away the faded fabric, and as the dust cleared, sunlight from a high window illuminated the hidden face painted in oil just for her.
It was her own private moment, one she would never have to share with the rest of the world. A piece of him that belonged to her, if only at this moment in her memory. The dreamy intimacy of it held them both spellbound.
Vaughn leaned in slowly this time, and his next kiss was sweet, soft, yet deep. His lips lingered and coaxed hers into a slow, playful dance that seemed to go on forever. She twined her arms around him, caressing the back of his neck, making him tremble when she reached a sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulders.
“What in the blazes are you doing to me?” he murmured. The confusion in his voice was soft and sweet, making her smile against his mouth.
“Me? It is you who has me bewitched,” she responded.
“Then we are both under some sort of spell.” He brushed his gloved hand over her cheek before he dropped his cloak from her body and bent to pick up his discarded glove. She had to let go of him, and her arms felt empty without him.
Vaughn cleared his throat. “We should catch up with the others before we are missed.” He put his glove back on and then held out his hand to her. She took it, and they began the long walk into the woods to find the other men.
The rest of the party was deep into the woods by the time they found them. They had discovered a log they all agreed would be perfect as the Yule log.
“Ho there, Darlington. Care to give the beast a good whack? We’re just about through.” One of the young men held up a sizable ax and pointed its blade at the fallen log.
“I suppose.” Vaughn removed his cloak and tossed it at the young man before he claimed the ax.
Perdita stepped back, as did the others, giving Vaughn room enough to swing.
He wielded the ax as though he’d been a woodsman to some ancient medieval queen. The silver blade arced through the air and sank into the wood with a heavy thunk! The trunk broke in four hard swings, and he moved four feet down its length to separate it again from the ragged base next to the stump.
“Is that enough, do you think?” he asked.
“I believe so,” one of the men replied. Four others bent to lift the Yule log and begin the burdensome process of carrying it home. Vaughn went to retrieve his cloak, and another young man engaged him in conversation.
Perdita wished to join him, but such an intrusion might seem rude.
“So, you and Darlington are engaged?” Milburn’s cold voice made Perdita jolt. He caught her from behind by the arm, squeezing hard, and she was rooted to the ground with him holding her in front of him, her arm twisted behind her back. If he twisted it much farther, it would break. Pain radiated up from her elbow, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.
“Unhand me. You’re hurting me,” she hissed.
Milburn ignored her. “I spent four months playing friends with that old fool you call your father, and now you accept another man in your bed? I will not stand for this. Don’t forget what I told you. I can turn over my evidence to the magistrate anytime I wish. If I do, he’ll be facing imprisonment or worse.”
Perdita’s tongue seemed to swell, and her throat choked with fear. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“Then I suggest you come to your senses and tell Darlington to break it off. Otherwise, your father will pay for your stubbornness.”
Milburn’s threat was so different from Vaughn’s. Vaughn had punished her with kisses and with pleasure. Milburn was a coward and a cruel beast who simply wanted to control her
every action. Despite her fear, rage came roaring to the surface. She had to fight him. If he won now, like this, she’d never be free.
“Unhand me now or I will scream. Then you will be forced to explain to these gentlemen here what you were doing.” She spun to face him, her hood falling off her head. “You may frighten every other woman in London, but not me.”
She jerked her arm free of his startled grasp, and then she leaned close. “I could not break my engagement with him even if I wished to.” It was a lie, but she hoped Milburn would believe it. “Lord Darlington won’t give me up, not for anything. If you harm me or my family, you will face his wrath. Never forget that,” she hissed. “Speak to me like that again, and I will have you chased off my property by the dogs until your feet are sore and blistered.” She kept a steady stare at him, the way one would at a dangerous animal, before she turned and strode off.
* * *
Politeness be damned—she was going to join Vaughn. Her temper had only just covered the swell of fear inside her at Milburn’s actions. To grab her and threaten her like that? He was bolder in his intentions than she ever could’ve guessed, and far more dangerous than she’d wanted to believe.
She had hoped her false engagement to Vaughn would deter him. That clearly wasn’t the case. She hadn’t overestimated Vaughn, but she had underestimated Milburn. He wasn’t afraid to use his supposed evidence to destroy her father. What was she going to do? She tried to convince herself that his actions were only because the wound to his pride was still fresh. Perhaps in time he would lose interest. This plan had to work, or else everything would fall apart.
Vaughn turned at her approach, his mask of cool aloofness on his handsome face.
“Miss Darby.” He bent his head in polite greeting, and the other gentleman did the same. “Is everything all right?”
She painted a false smile on her lips. “Yes.” She knew if she told Vaughn what had happened, he might use the ax he still held to chop Milburn into pieces. As appealing as the idea was right then, she couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Are you cold? I offer myself as an escort back to the house.” He provided his arm gallantly in front of the other men.
She nodded and slipped her arm through his. “Thank you.” He handed the ax back to the others, and they started to walk back. Milburn was nowhere to be seen at first, but then she spied him a dozen yards away, talking to his companion. It didn’t reassure her. She had a terrible feeling that Samuel Milburn was not going to back down.
Chapter 7
Vaughn lounged against the wall at the back of the large drawing room which was already full of gentlemen in their evening clothes. He did not feel like joining in their conversations at the moment. The ladies had been coming down in pairs for the last hour before dinner, but there was no sign of Perdita.
He didn’t like it. She wasn’t the sort of woman who took overly long preparing herself for dinner. Guilt gnawed at him. He worried that what he’d done in the woods had been a step too far. She had been pale and withdrawn on the journey back, and he hadn’t been able to coax her out of her thoughts, even to tell him more about her love of science. He’d even teased her about the names of constellations, pronouncing them wrong, but she hadn’t corrected him.
The distant look in her eyes had eaten away at his confidence. He’d never worried about his actions with a woman before, but with Perdita everything he did mattered.
Did I push too much? Demand something she couldn’t give? Most gently bred ladies did not enjoy his particular flavor of passion—the commands, the obedience, the edge of pain blurring into pleasure. It was why he never seduced innocents and kept his activities restricted to widows and mistresses who shared his hungers.
When he’d kissed Perdita today in the woods, she’d surrendered so sweetly and had turned his world on its axis, shifting everything like tumbling sands in an hourglass. He was still unsettled at how perfect she was, how much it had tested his self-control not to take her there and then. But perhaps he had seen only what he wanted to see. Perhaps she had been afraid of him and not truly interested in him.
Was he so starved for a woman’s touch that he’d misread her? Was she even now hiding from him because she was too ashamed of what had happened, afraid he would do it again? He couldn’t bear the thought. He wouldn’t forgive himself if it turned out he’d had it all wrong. But before he could seek her out to apologize, the door opened at the far end of the room and Perdita appeared.
She wore a ruby-red silk gown with a flounced hem trimmed in white lace, as though snowflakes had been caught on the lush fabric. Her bodice was embroidered with tiny flowers, and puffed sleeves clung to her elegantly sloping shoulders. A few loose dark curls bounced and caressed her creamy skin. Skin that he longed to taste. The woman was a vision of loveliness, and he feared he had ruined any chance of marrying her.
He held his breath, pacing around the room’s edge toward her, watching her as she spoke to other guests. He studied every tilt of her head, every move, trying to figure out what was going on in her head. His blood burned at the thought of her, but fear held him back. At last he decided to speak to her. Perhaps her tone toward him would reveal more.
Perdita’s father stepped in between him and his goal. “Darlington.”
He met the older man’s amused face with smothered frustration. He needed to speak to Perdita, to ask if she was all right. The last person he wanted to speak to was her father, a man who would most likely shoot him if he knew what Vaughn had been up to with his daughter.
“Yes?”
“I have spoken to Perdita, and she’s agreed that making the announcement tonight will be fine. I thought I would make a toast during dinner. Does that suit you?”
“You spoke to her?” Vaughn hung on that single fact, his heart racing. “When?”
Darby tilted his head. “After you returned with the Yule log. I trust things haven’t changed since we spoke this afternoon?”
“No, certainly not. I am just glad to hear she spoke to you.” It gave him a glimmer of hope that perhaps she had enjoyed their time in the woods and that he hadn’t frightened her off. Still, she could just as easily be continuing with her plans to dissuade Milburn’s pursuit.
“She did.” Darby’s eyes held a twinkle. “I admit, I didn’t believe it until she told me how fond she was of you. I won’t deny my daughter her heart’s desire, but”—he leaned in close to Vaughn—“my threat about burying you still stands. You’d best not break her heart, or they will never find you.”
Vaughan nodded slowly in understanding.
“Good.” Darby smacked his shoulder with an open palm and stepped out of his way.
Perdita was alone now, watching him. He could feel the eyes of the room, particularly those of the ladies, tracking him as he and Perdita met. They would whisper behind their fans about this meeting, speculate on every look, every smile or word shared between them. He couldn’t stop them, nor would he try. That was the entire point of this charade—for people to talk, to notice that they were together, and for word of it to reach Milburn over and over until he lost hope of his pursuit.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. She opened her lips, and he found himself afraid of what she might say. He rushed to speak before her. “About today…in the woods.” He looked for any sign of horror at the reminder of that moment. “I didn’t… I shouldn’t have made you do that.”
Perdita’s lips parted even farther, and her eyes widened. “But…” She leaned in closer. “I liked what we did.” She frowned. “Did it not satisfy you?” She raised a gloved hand to her lips, her cheeks pinkening with a sudden blush.
“No!” He reached out to grasp her other hand. “That is to say,” he clarified at her wounded expression, “I did enjoy it. Too much. I feared I’d frightened you, that you’d seen my black heart and it was too much for you.” He faltered when he realized he was confessing to such wild things. Things that no man should say to a woman. He sounded like Vaughn’s
friend Ambrose. That fool had rushed headlong into love for Perdita’s friend and never looked back. Vaughn had no intention of falling in love, even with his future wife. He’d always wished to have an affection for his wife, because it would make a marriage happier, but love was too dangerous, too volatile an emotion. He never wanted to risk his black heart for love.
Rather than rush to reassure him or deny that she had been afraid, Perdita raised her chin. Her warm brown eyes seemed to glow with some mixture of amusement and elation.
“Vaughn, if you had tried to do anything to me that I did not wish, I wouldn’t have let you.” Her lips curved into a ghost of a smile, and the wit and confidence he’d feared had left her was back.
Still, he could not resist asking. “But when we came back, you were so quiet. I was worried—”
“The infamous rogue worries over me?” She was still smiling, but for a brief instant, he saw that shadow in her eyes. Then it was gone. “I admit my thoughts were elsewhere,” she said. “But it had nothing to do with you or what transpired between us.”
The flood of relief at her words was surprising. He hadn’t known until that moment just how much he needed her to tell him she was all right.
“Now, I’m afraid we shan’t be sitting close at dinner. Mother has spread us out in the seating arrangements.” Her nose wrinkled as she showed her clear distaste for this arrangement.
“She didn’t put you near…” He gave a slight jerk of his head toward Millburn.
“No, thank heavens.” Perdita’s eyes brightened again. “After dinner, I thought we might talk. We must prepare for him seeing us together, correct? One in private?” Her gaze dropped to his lips, and he could guess what she was truly thinking. The excited gleam in her eyes was impossible to miss. The little minx clearly missed him and all the wicked things he could do. And to think I was concerned she didn’t enjoy it.
