She had nothing to lean against. She’d have taken the wall, even though it was lined with shells, which would have made the support deeply uncomfortable. She had to open her legs wide, to retain her balance and put one hand on his shoulder, feeling the way his muscles flexed as he supported her as he sucked.
From his moans, the way he worked at her so voraciously, he must be enjoying his feast, but she’d never imagined a man would take pleasure from this activity. When she realized such was possible from the books she’d discovered in the family library, snuggled behind copies of The Spectator, she thought the man would do it so the woman would do it to him. Would he like that?
Would the man standing in the darkness like it? Would she enjoy two men driving her wild?
Her arousal ratcheted up further, something she’d never have imagined possible a few moments ago, but it did, making her whimper against her hand.
He curved his hands around her buttocks, hauling her closer as he sucked and pleasured her to a peak of excitement. At the last moment he changed, from sucking to flicking his tongue against her unbearably sensitive clitoris.
Aurelia imagined the man outside and more, all waiting their turn, and she exploded. He pushed a finger into her, and she came around it, his surprising action sending her higher, pulsing around him.
She gave a strangled cry and he emerged from the voluminous folds of her gown, standing to sweep her into his arms and press his lips to hers in a kiss. She licked his lips, savoured her essence on his tongue.
“I want to taste you,” she whispered when, finally, their lips separated.
He shuddered, his breath ragged. “If I’d known… We can’t spare the time, my sweet.”
“Are you close?”
“Oh yes.”
“Then we do.”
She wanted this badly. To drive him as mad as he’d driven her. She glanced around. The grotto was lined with a narrow, wooden bench. That would do. “Sit.”
Half laughing, he obeyed. He was wearing dark green tonight. It would be enough to cover any marks, especially if he flicked his coat skirts up to form a cushion for him to lean against.
She swept her skirts out of the way and knelt on the hard, stone floor, fumbling with the fall of his breeches. Unfastening it, she found his underwear no barrier to her objective, and she soon had his member throbbing in her hand. The base was too large to circle with her fingers, and in truth the size daunted her. She’d seen a male member before, having lived in the country for some time, but not one in this state of tumescence.
She loved it. A bead of moisture had emerged from the small slit at the top, the smooth head that gleamed in the dim light. She bent her head and claimed it for her own. He tasted salty, spicy and delicious. She moved the hand that clasped him, surprised at the softness of the skin there and the rigidity of the shaft beneath. He rewarded her with a low groan.
He liked it. So did she. Recalling his regular, rhythmic sucking, she tried that with him, closed her mouth over the tip and sucked, then released, sucked and released.
“Look at me.” She could hardly hear him, his voice was so low and hoarse.
Lifting her gaze, she met his eyes. She hadn’t realized he’d taken a seat close to the lamp—she could see that amazing grey, now almost completely swallowed up by the black chasms of his pupils. He was gripping the edge of the bench on either side of him, so his knuckles showed white.
She had him helpless. Aurelia set to work to see what she could do. He had a handkerchief gripped in his hand, and she would have snorted if her mouth had not been full. He wouldn’t get to use that. She’d claim everything he had.
Sucking, working her mouth up and down that soft skin, feeling her lover as intimately as possible, Aurelia felt a current between them, a wash of sensation that had more to do with the way they were gazing at each other than their physical activity.
But that—he tasted wonderfully fresh, but with a darker overtone she could find necessary to her soul. When she swept her tongue along as much of the flange under the head as she could manage, he closed his eyes and moaned, then opened them wide, as if forcing himself to continue to meet that sizzling current between them.
Unashamed, no, proud of what she was doing to him, she tried curling her tongue, cupping it around his cock, and watched his reaction. She could suck better that way, and he was close. He heated even more, then the base tightened, and because she had her hand around the shaft she felt the fluid surge up the column and into her mouth in a series of short, harsh spurts.
She swallowed, and swallowed again, but a dribble of liquid seeped out. She couldn’t take it all. When sure she absorbed all she could, taken every bit of him, she eased away.
He was still hard, but softening. She didn’t want to let go, but when he bent and put his hands under her arm to haul her into his lap, she had to. Dragging her close, he fastened his lips to hers and as she had done a moment ago, he discovered what he tasted like on her lips. Licking into her mouth, he made her feel ravished, even though they hadn’t taken the ultimate step. She wanted to, but when she put her hand down to feel his cock, he gently moved it.
After finishing the kiss, he opened his eyes and gazed into her face. “Not tonight, sweet one. I want us to celebrate this in the best possible way. Not fumbling and furtive in a stolen half hour. We shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. Can’t.” Reaching down, he put himself away, lifting his fall and fastening a couple of buttons. Then he set about putting her to rights. Gently he tucked her breasts back into her bodice, and gave the lace a tug. “Good as new.”
“You can be my lady’s maid from now on,” she told him, giving him a kiss of thanks.
He took the kiss and made it more, and she forgot everything but him. Every time their lips came together it happened, and she didn’t know how or if it would ever stop. Never wanted it to.
“Forever, if you wish it,” he murmured against her lips. He drew away slightly and watched her. “I meant to hold off, I intended to fight so hard to stop this from happening again, but when I saw you everything else went out of the window. You are all that matters to me now. From the moment I saw you I knew—” He shook his head, chuckling ruefully. “I’m sorry. I’ll get maudlin any minute.”
She laid her forehead against his. “I feel the same. Except that I was waiting for something and I never knew what it was. It was you.”
“We need to get away, and for that we need to be married. Will you marry me, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” She didn’t have to think about it. She’d been longing for him to ask her.
“Then I will get matters underway, with your permission. I can’t wait any longer.”
She gave an awkward laugh. “So businesslike!”
“We must be.” He paused. “Remember what I said? That I’d tell you everything?” She nodded. “I will. But not now. It can’t be rushed. I’ll visit your mother tomorrow and ask for permission to address you. Although it should be your brother. I wanted to wait until he came home.”
“I’m of age. He can’t stop me.” She could wait for the settlement.
He kissed her. “That’s not the point. By the way you talk about your brother, I know you love him. So I want you to be happy. If he objects, I want to discuss it with him.” He paused, gazed at her. “He’s part of the news I have for you.”
“You have his gift?” she exclaimed. Everything fell into place, as if the pieces of some picture she couldn’t yet see started coming together. An oil painter created his work in layers. First he did the landscape, then the people, then the details. She had a broad brush outline. Something he shared with her brother. Sometimes Edmund knew her better than she knew herself. “You have the same kind of gift?”
“Many,” he said, smiling. “What did you mean?”
“The way you can tell what I’m about to say. As if you understand me better than I do. My mother has it too, but that is because she is my mama and knows me better than anyone.”
Occasionally the idea had occurred to her, that her mother had more than a strong will on her side, but the notion had seemed so preposterous that she’d dismissed it. But now—she wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“Think about this.” His expression softening, he drew her close once more and kissed her. She curved her hand around his neck and returned the favour.
“What we need,” he said with determination, moving her away, “is a bed and privacy. For at least a week. You are talented, beautiful, and I want you more than I can remember wanting anyone else.” He kissed her nose between each word. “Time, privacy and no clothes.”
Her heart felt lighter than she could ever remember, and she smiled back. He held out his arm with a flourish and she laid her hand on it so he could lead her from the grotto. He was right. It was time to stop hiding in corners and face the world. “How soon can we be married?”
“If I get a special licence, as soon as a week. I’ll speak to your mother tomorrow and ask her if I may address you. While we wait for Kentmere to return, we may come to an informal understanding. I expect word from d’Argento any day, and we will wait for your brother to return home.”
Sighing, Aurelia accepted that would be the best course. But she wanted it now. Everything, before it was snatched from her grasp. Before they reached the footman, waiting stoically at the end of the path, not standing where he could watch their activities, she turned to face Blaize and reached for the pin. She’d stuck it through one of the ribbon bows that fastened her bodice, behind the ribbon so it couldn’t be seen. The diamond was a large, fine one that would be recognized easily. She pulled it out and handed it to him.
“My mother says I can’t accept this from you. It shows too much partiality. The reason she allowed us this meeting tonight was so I could give this back to you.”
He nodded and closed his hand around the hand holding the pin. “She’s right. But I will have the stone set in a ring. For you. When you look at it we can remember how you came into possession of it. Our first encounter. Not our last.”
“No,” she agreed, while the breeze gusted against her cheek, ruffling her hair, and the birds set in cages around the gardens chirped merrily. “Not our last.”
But if Edmund took too much longer, she’d force the issue.
Chapter Seven
Far too early the next morning, Blaize’s valet informed him he had a visitor. “I don’t suppose you can put him off?” he asked wearily as he swung out of bed.
“No, my lord,” Gates said lugubriously. “He says he will wait. He also bade you not take too long.”
“That would be the Duke of Lyndhurst.” After a sleepless night, he’d have appreciated a few hours this morning. Gods needed their sleep too, especially when they resided in the bodies of mere human beings.
As he downed the first glass of wine and let the intoxication recede, Blaize wondered how Aurelia would take his explanation. Would he have to leave off the drink for a day to prove it to her? Not without sending someone, preferably d’Argento, to handle him. D’Argento was one of the few people who could reach him when he was in full Bacchus mode, but he wasn’t here. He would just have to persuade her another way.
What would it be like to make love in that state? He’d never done it. The two women he’d lost before hadn’t wanted to see that side of him, so he hadn’t had the opportunity. But he sensed a recklessness in Aurelia that called to him at a deep level. He wouldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t.
The thought made his cock rise. Not surprising since sexual excitement was also part of the state. He poured another glass and tossed it down, then let Gates help him into his robe. If Lyndhurst called this early, he’d have to accept him as he was.
He ran a brush over his hair, decided to leave his wig until later and went downstairs to the breakfast parlour.
Thankfully his cook had brought in some food and laid it over the spirit burners on the sideboard. Blaize put down his glass and picked up a plate. Lyndhurst was already sitting at the table, fully dressed for the day, damn him, and tucking into a hearty plateful of his food.
Blaize took his breakfast to the table and found the teapot.
Lyndhurst nodded to the discarded glass. “You’re not drinking more? Hair of the dog that bit you and all that?”
They were alone in the room. “You know why I drink.”
Lyndhurst shrugged. “I know you’re Bacchus. But what good would knowing do if I didn’t get to tease you from time to time? Does it have to be wine? Bacchus is intimately involved with the grape and wine. Isn’t brandy grape-based?”
Blaize put down his tea dish. “I have to drink, preferably wine. It works better than anything else. A bottle a day, usually, although more works just as well. Like mortals, but in reverse. They drink to get drunk. I drink to get sober. I wake up drunk.”
Lyndhurst gave a low whistle. “Of course I know the Bacchus myths. Some of them, anyway. The name is the same in Greek as in Roman. Unless you count Dionysus.”
“He’s someone else.”
Lyndhurst nodded. “So the godhead is old.”
It was Blaize’s turn to nod. “Older than most. You are Mars, and your origin is Ares, but the spirit of war is older. Mine is older still. It’s from a time when rationality was not rated as an asset, when divine frenzy was to be striven for. A similar god appears in many cultures and old stories. I seem to have been everywhere at one time or another.”
Lyndhurst actually stopped eating. “That must make life difficult.”
Blaize shrugged. He filled his fork with fresh, fragrant scrambled egg. “It’s something I’m used to. Much of society considers me a heavy drinker, but you’d be hard put to find anyone who has seen me drunk. I choose not to appear that way, although I can feign the condition well enough.” He cocked his head on one side, regarding Lyndhurst quizzically. “Do you have nothing? A curse you have to bear?”
Lyndhurst considered, then picked up his cutlery again. “A few things. A quick temper, but who’s to say I wasn’t like that to start with, before the god invaded me in the womb? I do have a battle frenzy, but I find that more useful than anything else, particularly in my profession. My old profession,” he concluded in a melancholy tone. “But I have no idea which parts are me and which the god. Who will ever know?”
That was true. And it tortured Blaize. The god had usurped a baby, taken over what it was meant to be and perverted it. He never knew how much of him was from his nature and how much from the god. There was no difference between them now, but once this body had originated as nature intended, in a woman’s womb.
He could not accept that fate, as so many of his kind did. Perhaps because his curse was so conspicuous, something he had to cope with every day.
Lyndhurst finished his plateful and leaned back, watching Blaize eat. He poured himself a coffee, something Blaize didn’t generally order with his breakfast. Which reminded him of something else. “And who said you could enter my breakfast parlour and make free with whatever you found?”
Lyndhurst gave him a lazy smile. “I did. I explained you’d asked me to breakfast because we had matters to discuss.” He laughed. “What, you meant to eat in a solitary state and make me watch? I don’t think so.”
“What are you doing here?” Blaize asked bluntly. Even with the wine inside him, he felt like hell. He resented the way Lyndhurst had dragged him out of bed. He didn’t have any appointments until much later in the day, one of them being the all-important meeting with Lady Kentmere, and he’d hoped to catch some serious sleep time before then.
“I came to make you s
ee sense,” Lyndhurst said blandly.
After a knock on the door, a man entered with the card Blaize had been waiting for. When he’d got in last night, he’d sent a note to the dowager, requesting the honour of a meeting with her today. She’d replied with a civil note inviting him to tea at two.
With any luck, he’d be bound to Aurelia by this afternoon. He’d be officially contracted to marry her. When the man sitting opposite him discovered that, Blaize might well get to see the battle frenzy for himself. How could he resist?
“Good news?”
He folded the note carefully. “Definitely.”
Lyndhurst quirked a brow in query. The gesture made him look angrier, even though Blaize sensed no temper in him. Sighing, he gave in to the inevitable and told Lyndhurst his news. “I’m marrying Aurelia as soon as d’Argento finds her brother. Being Mercury, he can spirit him home when he’s located him, so it could be earlier than anyone thinks.”
He was mildly disappointed when all that happened was a deeper frown and blacker eyes. “You’re taking this a little too far. Remember, you’re enchanted.”
“I am, thoroughly. And I’m telling you, I don’t care.” Leaning forward, he faced Lyndhurst directly. “I am alive for the first time in many, many years. I don’t care how that happened. I want it and I’m taking it.” That was the whole truth.
Lyndhurst met his gaze, glaring with a fury that Blaize hoped might lead to some damage. He relished another fight with the man. D’Argento always refused to fight him, even when Blaize was at his most capricious and annoying. He’d tried often enough. Revenge had driven him for the last thirty years. This time he might, just might, have something for himself.
Nonchalantly he reached for the toast.
Lyndhurst made a sound of exasperation which Blaize heard with deep personal satisfaction. He enjoyed riling this man, except it was too easy. Unholy glee that had nothing to do with his godhead spiralled through him. Besides, the man deserved it for waking him so precipitately.
Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 Page 9
