Sunrise with a Notorious Lord

by Alexandra Hawkins

  “This is your coach.”

  “Indeed.” With his hand firmly around her waist, Vane guided her forward until he could open the door. “No need for you to climb down, Maston. I have the door.”

  “’Bout time, I say,” the older man grumbled. “I couldn’t decide if you were kissing or drowning the lass.”

  Before Isabel could reconsider, Vane nudged her into the interior. Exchanging rakish grins with Maston, he slapped the side of the coach and said, “Take us home.”

  * * *

  Whisked away into the night by a handsome rogue, while overhead the heavens roiled with lightning and thunder. Isabel could not imagine anything more daring or romantic.

  Vane did not give her much time to dwell on her decision. Within the dark confines of the coach, he seduced her with his mouth and hands. He whispered dark carnal promises in her ears, and she stroked the proof of his desire. The short journey ended before she had caught her breath. Her legs were so weak with the need he had built within her, Isabel had to lean on him as they made their way to his house.

  There was no opportunity to explore his residence. The servants had already retired for the night, and Vane explained in hushed tones that his younger sister had moved into his house while his older sister and her family invaded the Netherley town house.

  The thought of encountering one of his sisters doused some of her ardor. Sensing her dismay, Vane quickly explained that his sister was still out enjoying her evening and would be gone for hours. Then he led her up to his bedchamber.

  Isabel was too nervous about being discovered to resist.

  Before they reached the bedchamber, he surprised her by backing her up into a small alcove. Vane brought his finger to his lips to silence any questions. He brushed her lips with a brief kiss and disappeared down the passageway.

  Isabel closed her eyes and listened to Vane’s footfalls. A door opened, and Vane greeted another man, though she could not hear what was being said. Most likely, it was his valet, who had been waiting up for his master. After the servant was dismissed, Vane returned to her side.

  “Poor little love,” he crooned, pulling her into his arms. “Too much adventure, eh? I did not mean to leave you so long, but I forgot about my valet. I normally do not have late-night visitors, so Cheswick is rather distressed that I will not be requiring his services this evening.” He took her by the hand, and they walked down the passageway.

  His revelation was so unexpected she had the oddest urge to laugh. If half the rumors about the Lords of Vice were to be believed, one would expect Vane to keep a veritable harem in his house. Isabel had not been wrong about the earl’s character. Joy took wing in her heart as she realized that she was the first lady he had allowed to invade his private world.

  Vane opened the door to his private bedchamber, and beckoned her to enter. Once she stepped into the room, he closed the door and locked it, ensuring that they would not be disturbed.

  “Are you cold?” he asked as he briskly moved about his bedchamber to light a few candles and then crouched down in front of the hearth to tend to the coals.

  Isabel glanced at the windows as thunder ominously rattled the glass panes.

  “Not really.” Even though her hair was still damp, her cloak and Vane had kept most of the rain from soaking into her evening dress. He had removed her sodden garment the minute she had stepped into the front hall.

  “A little brandy will warm you,” Vane said, glancing back over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “And naturally you have me.”

  “Naturally,” she echoed, uncertain of his meaning.

  “There,” he said, brushing his hands together.

  She could hear the satisfaction in his voice. Vane bit the tips of his gloved fingers and pulled, swiftly peeling them from his hands. He had discarded his evening coat and waistcoat once he had entered the room. The distinctive click of glasses colliding and a splash of liquid filled the silence of the bedchamber.

  Isabel wrapped her arms across her chest and waited for him to return to her.

  He took a sip of brandy. “I could go down to the cellar if you prefer wine,” Vane said, offering her the glass.

  Isabel did not want him to leave her alone. “The brandy will suffice.” She accepted it, trying not to dwell on the intimacy of drinking from the same glass. “Thank you,” she murmured and took a tentative sip. The liquid warmed her almost as fast as one of Vane’s kisses. She silently recalled that her father used to enjoy brandy now and then. When she was finished, she handed the glass back to him.

  “You look…” He paused as he sought for the proper word. “… terrified.”

  Isabel could not help but grin. “A little,” she admitted, turning away from him. Her gaze settled on his bed, while she recalled all the fascinating things he had whispered in her ear.

  Vane came up from behind and nuzzled her shoulder. “What are you thinking? I get nervous when you frown like that. It’s usually a sign that I will not like your thoughts.”

  She sighed. “I cannot help but believe that my sister should be here in my stead.” Isabel allowed the back of her head to rest on his shoulder. “Delia suits you better than I. She’s the adventurous one.” More beautiful, too. Though she was wise enough not to speak the words aloud.

  Vane whirled her around until she was facing him. “I’ve had dozens of Delias in my bed,” he growled, and Isabel winced as her thoughts wandered to those nameless women who once thought they had a claim on him. “I want you. How can I prove myself to you?”

  She shook her head. Despite his notoriety, Vane was an honorable man. She believed him. He was unfailingly, often brutally honest. She was the one who was the liar. How many times had she lied to him and herself?

  Isabel could give him what they both desired, even if it was just this one night. “Show me.”

  His eyes flared at her simple request. Reaching around her, he set the glass of brandy down on the nearest table. “Are you positive?”

  “Teach me how to be daring.” Her voice wavered, but she refused to give in to her fears. “Show me how to please you.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Her quiet request almost shattered his hard-won control.

  Vane wanted this first time with Isabel to be special—for both of them. In the past he had enjoyed countless couplings, mindless, frantic fucks where carnal needs were sated, but the heart was left aching. Isabel deserved more from him, and he intended to prove something to her and himself, if she would let him.

  Vane gently swept her dark tangled tresses until the heavy length flowed over her shoulder, exposing the nape of her neck. “Have I told you how much I adore your neck,” he said, kissing the delicate swells of bone. “It should be adorned with gold, silver, and jewels. Do you have a favorite stone? Diamonds, perhaps?” He methodically began to unfasten the buttons at the back of her dress.

  “I-I have not given it much thought.” She trembled at his light touch.

  “A favorite color, then.”

  “Blue. No green,” she hastily amended, glancing over her shoulder. “Like your eyes. Both cool and hot. Though I doubt such a stone exists.”

  Pleased that she would prefer a gem the exact color of his eyes, Vane vowed to pester every jeweler in London until he found such a stone. “If one does, it will be yours.”

  The bodice of her dress fell away, and minutes later her stays and petticoat. Wearing only her linen chemise and drawers, she sat down on the mattress at Vane’s silent urging. He knelt in front of her and removed her evening slippers. Her flight into the stormy night had ruined them beyond repair.

  “Pray do not feel obliged to buy me jewelry, my lord.”

  Frowning slightly at her formality, Vane slowly followed the subtle curves of her calf, reaching higher until his fingers brushed against a garter. “Why would I deny myself the pleasure?” He had always been generous with his lovers. The expense meant little to him. Early on, he had discovered that a lady’s appreciation had its own re
wards.

  Vane untied the garter. Attempting not to heighten Isabel’s fears, he forced his hands to move slowly as he stripped the stocking from her right leg. Then her left. He noticed that her nipples were erect, a hint of pink offering him an enticing glimpse of the delectable flesh still hidden from his eager gaze.

  “A gentleman buys jewelry for his mistress,” Isabel blurted out. “No woman should sell herself so cheaply. I will not be anyone’s kept woman. Not even yours.”

  Vane lowered his gaze, struggling not to feel defensive. Isabel did not understand the arrangement between a gentleman and his mistress. Such affairs could be rather cold-blooded, and had nothing to do with his feelings for the lady sitting on his bed.

  The storm raging outside seemed to match his inner turmoil.

  “I would not be so arrogant as to believe that I can keep you, Isabel. You are free to leave or stay. The decision has always been yours.” Vane stared at her bare feet and waited for her response. Like her neck, her feet were perfection. They were small, slender, and delicately boned. He wondered how she would react if he licked the arches.

  He stifled the urge to snort. Knowing Isabel, she would probably panic and kick him in the head.

  “I do not want to leave.”

  Vane’s head snapped up at her admission.

  His fingers tightened around her ankle. “Be certain, Isabel,” he entreated softly.

  Outdoors, the winds from the escalating storm moaned and wailed.

  “I only have so much restraint. I do not—” It was clearly a difficult admission for him to make to her.

  Isabel held out her hand. “Come to bed.”

  * * *

  Vane tensed. Unblinking he stared at her, his eyes taking on an almost feral glint in the candlelight. For a second Isabel thought he was going to leap upon her like a large wolf taking down its prey.

  Instead, he released her ankle and used the edge of the mattress to stand. “For your sake, I will extinguish the candles.”

  Isabel blinked as lightning brightened the interior of the room. When Vane stood she saw the proudly displayed evidence of his desire, which his trousers could not conceal. Perhaps he thought her nerves were so fragile that she would faint at the sight of his manhood.

  “Leave one candle lit, my lord.” She wrapped her arms around her body at his questioning glance. “I would not have you stumble and bump your head. What would Cheswick think if you ruined your shirt for the sake of my modesty?”

  Vane chuckled, and blew out several candles before bringing the half-lit candelabra closer. He set it down on the side table. “God created you to bedevil me, did he not?” He untied his cravat.

  “Then I would not want to disappoint him.”

  If he was adept at undressing a lady, Vane was doubly impressive when it came to shedding his own garments. Bare-chested he was an impressive specimen, all muscled flesh with a dark patch of short coarse hair across his chest that revealed he was a male in his prime. He hesitated and looked down at the blatant mound at the apex of his trousers.

  “You are unused to viewing a man’s body. I will not be offended if you wish to avert your eyes while I finish undressing.”

  Isabel felt treasured that Vane wanted to protect her, even from himself. However, a coward would not have walked into his house. She slowly slid off the mattress and stood. Ignoring his guarded expression, she unfastened the buttons at his waist.

  “It seems only fair,” she teased, peeling back the flap on the front of his trousers. She discovered that the line of hair on his flat abdomen expanded to a nest of crisp masculine hair between his legs.

  “Isabel, you are playing with fire,” he growled as she reached out to touch the swollen flesh still tucked within his trousers.

  “A true philosopher embraces all new discoveries,” she said, marveling at the size of his manhood. The small glimpse revealed that every aspect of the gentleman was generous.

  “Remove your chemise,” he said hoarsely.

  Her pulse quickened at his request. Isabel could see that her body was responding to his proximity. Her nipples had hardened at his first kiss. The sensitive tips were chafing against her chemise. She longed to bring her hands to her breasts and rub away the ache.

  “If it will not offend.”

  “Never,” he said, visibly straining to keep himself from closing the space between them. “Let me see all of you.”

  Taking a fortifying breath, Isabel tugged her chemise over her head and let the undergarment fall to her bare feet. Her first instinct was to cover her breasts. A wave of heat suffused her face and chest as Vane stared hungrily at her.

  “Christ, Isabel, you are so beautiful,” he said, taking the final steps to her.

  He lowered his head until it rested lightly against hers. Wordlessly, his fingers sought the ties for her drawers. A firm tug, and the garment glided down her legs.

  Isabel shivered, the reaction having nothing to do with being chilled. Awkwardly she placed her hands on his hips. It helped to steady her, because she could not seem to stop trembling. Vane captured her lips when she lifted her face to his.

  The kiss was tender and hesitant. She parted her lips, knowing he would not be satisfied with just a taste. Vane groaned as he crushed her body against his. Fierce and commanding, he turned his head, his mouth grinding against hers. Her breasts tingled, and the marvelous sensation drifted lower, making her aware that the hard flesh between his hips was pressing against hers.

  A daring lady might have pushed Vane’s trousers lower, freeing his manhood from its confines. Isabel gripped his hips tighter, but she could not bring herself to take the next step.

  Her indecision ended when Vane took charge of the situation. As if an invisible tether had severed within him, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. With a farewell kiss to her lips, he lowered her onto the bed.

  Wordlessly, he shoved his trousers over his narrow hips and stripped the fabric from his each leg. Isabel turned her head to the side and watched him undress. Her eyes widened as Vane’s manhood jutted out from his hips. Amazingly thick and rigid, the lengthy staff seemed to swell before her eyes now that it was free from the tight confines of his clothing.

  Vane had twisted, offering her his profile. She doubted he was motivated by any modesty. Instead, his economical movements revealed that he probably did not want her to dwell too much on what was to come.

  Isabel squinted at the sudden bright flashes of lightning, followed by the rumbling growl of thunder.

  “A hellish night to be out,” he murmured, pausing to glance at the windows. “No one will be eager to rush to their carriages and coaches.”

  His face cast in shadows, Vane climbed onto the bed. As he crawled up her body, Isabel was acutely aware of the hot velvet staff brushing against her inner thigh.

  With his arms braced on each side of her head, he said, “The night is ours, Isabel.”

  * * *

  And you are mine!

  Vane did not utter the words aloud. By morning, Isabel would be aware of his physical claim. Every movement would remind her of what they had done during the long hours of the night. She would taste him on her lips, smell his scent on her flesh, and when she closed her eyes all she would see was him.

  He dipped his head and captured her left nipple with his tongue. Isabel squirmed underneath him as he suckled the sensitive pink nubbin.

  “Such sweet breasts.” Vane nipped the soft curve of her right breast, and then laved her nipple. “I shall enjoy discovering all your secrets.”

  Isabel made a tight dismissive noise. “I have no secrets, Vane.”

  “No?” He smiled against her belly. “Care to wager on it?”

  She sucked in her breath when his fingers trailed down to the small thatch of hair between her legs. “Wager?”

  “I was born with a gambler’s heart, love.” Vane traced the seam of her womanly folds, pleased by the dampness collecting as her body prepared for his cock.
<
br />   “Ha! Only a fool would wager with a self-professed gambler.”

  “Money is not what I’m after.” Not with you. Vane deepened his caress, the pad of his thumb circling the knot of flesh within. “Take a chance, Isabel. If you win, I will allow you to name your reward. Your heart’s desire.”

  “And if I lose?” she asked, sounding skeptical.

  Isabel was too distracted to notice that she had been relaxing and opening herself up to him.

  “Then you will allow me to win again.”

  Her body started shaking, before she burst into a fit of uncontrolled giggles. “Oh, Vane,” she gasped as she tried to sober, the corners of her eyes glittering with moisture. “It sounds like I win either way.”

  “Only a fool would refuse me,” he said, pressing his advantage by sliding his fingers into her dewy sheath. “And you proved on the day we first met that you were no man’s fool.”

  Vane did not give her a chance to form a clever retort. With his forearm braced against the mattress, he overwhelmed her with pleasure. He teased the circumference of her womanly sheath. Circling and tormenting her with swift shallow thrusts that were meant to excite and stretch her for his impatient cock.

  His other hand stroked her hair and teased the curvature of her ear, while his mouth leisurely nibbled on her lips moving downward, laving and tickling her throat with his nimble tongue, and finally feasting on her beautiful breasts. He returned to her well-kissed lips, happy to retrace his sensual journey over and over until her need was as great as his own.

  Vane had never hungered for a woman as he did for Isabel.

  Her innocence should have dissuaded him from the course he had chosen this evening. There was no sport in despoiling a virgin, particularly when the fertile nymph usually had a murderous father who would present the unhappy gent with the option of marriage to his ruined daughter or a festering bullet wound in the body part of his choosing.

  A wiser man would seek his pleasures elsewhere. Places like Madame Venna’s Golden Pearl provided virgins for male clientele, though he suspected these women lost their innocence countless times each week.