“Keep going,” Elizabeth pleaded in a low voice. They simply couldn’t lose momentum now, faced with such a pedestrian thing as so many doors.
“Ah, love, I have no intention of stopping,” he whispered, and she had the distinct impression he didn’t only refer to their current quest for privacy.
Finally, the third door Rafe tried was unlocked and he quickly lead her inside the darkened room. “The absence of light will work toward our needs, I think,” he murmured, and the glow from his eyes gave off a faint, red illumination that was both oddly comforting and at the same time bizarrely terrifying.
However, immediate portions of the room were revealed, and it was indeed a storage room just as Rafe suspected. The scents of age, dust and stale air reached her nose, and she sneezed twice in succession, much to his amusement. Wooden shelves filled the small room. In fact, four sets of them stretched the length of the space, all filled to capacity with all manner of old and ancient things, some still crated and wrapped.
Rafe barely spared a glance to their surroundings. With a low cry of triumph, he tugged her deeper into the room and then maneuvered her between two shelves, gently encouraging her to retreat until the wall against her back ceased her movement. “If you wish to cry off, please tell me now.” He stroked his knuckles along the curve of her cheek. Tingles raced over her skin from the point of contact, but his claws never scratched her.
“No, I only want you.” She pulled him to her, wrapped her arms about his shoulders and once more took possession of his mouth. Despite the fangs, Rafe was careful as he returned her ardor, and nary did those razor-sharp tips graze her. Neither did the claws leave marks as he caressed her cheek, the side of her neck, her bosom as he traced the neckline of her bodice.
“Ah, Lizzy. The act of sex is more than one of mere pleasure. It is the ability to feel close to a person, so connected and comfortable, that it is almost breathtaking.”
“Yes,” she breathed, wanting him so badly she might explode from it, but the longing went beyond that. She needed to be… with him, next to him, listening to his breathing, his voice, his laughter.
“Now you see.” His smile tugged at her heart. “You feel so much for the other person that you cannot bear by separated any longer, and when that happens, you know you will forever be a part of them.”
“That’s exactly it.” How could he know the contents of her innermost thoughts when she couldn’t find the words to articulate them? Tremors of need fell down her spine and heightened her desire, but when she attempted to manipulate the buttons on his jacket, he brushed her hands away.
“It is a seduction, not a quick tupp for the release. Let me show you how lovemaking can be between us,” he whispered and then proceeded to ply her with tender, exquisite kisses that set her mind reeling and started tiny fires in her blood.
For the first time since she and Rafe had come together in that vortex of passion on that long-ago night, she surrendered into his care and let him take the lead. She sighed as he nibbled and nipped a line of kisses down the side of her throat, never once pinching or tearing the skin. Every stroke of his fingers—gentle as the brush of a bird’s wing—over her flesh had her gasping for breath. Each lick of his tongue left her quivering for more of his touch.
When he encouraged her bodice down enough to bare her breasts, she took a shuddering breath, and the second his warm lips closed around a sensitive bud, she nearly sank to the floor when her knees no longer would support her weight.
He merely laughed, and tingles danced along her skin, almost like magic. After pleasuring her breasts thoroughly, he returned to her lips, and he spent endless moments kissing her until she couldn’t remember her own name. “This is how a gentleman should show a lady the depths of his regard,” he murmured against her lips, and still he kissed her, seeking, asking, claiming… loving her.
Merciful heavens. She lost another piece of her heart. Despite drowning in him, she giggled and forced her eyes open. “Except a gentleman wouldn’t exactly indulge in this sort of activity, and here of all places.” His eyes gleamed red but the love there was unmistakable. Elizabeth swallowed. Her pulse fluttered in time to the need racing through her.
“Society’s rules are meaningless in the face of emotion,” he countered, and slowly he drew up her skirts. “What we feel will always win no matter the opinions and dictates of others.”
The relatively cool air in the room wafted around her legs and prompted a shiver. She found his gaze, stared into his face, couldn’t look away, but unlike that first time, there was no enthrallment present, no feeling of being frozen or of wishing to do exactly what he wanted.
How utterly… overwhelming, for it meant that what she was experiencing now, and with him, was real, and it all belonged to her.
She couldn’t think about that now. Instead, she encouraged him closer, wrapped her arms about his shoulders and explored his face, his neck, every piece of flesh she could find that didn’t require manipulating complicated clothing. All the while, she drew up a leg and curled it around his hip, offering herself, giving into him completely.
Rafe took the hint, and as he communed with her, exchanged the most gentle of kisses, he slipped a hand between them only to manipulate the buttons on his frontfalls. As much as she wished to work him over and bring him to the heights of pleasure in this delicious hiding place, she couldn’t, didn’t want to move or disturb the warm cocoon of wonder he’d woven around her.
Then he strummed his knuckles over the swollen nub at her center, and when she caught her breath, before she could say anything, he fit the head of his hardened length to her opening, and holding her gaze, he slowly thrust inside. Inch by inch he filled her with such tender care and exquisite teasing that tears stung the backs of her eyelids.
A moan shuddered from her throat when he paused, and placing one hand, palm flat, on the wall near her head, he encouraged her leg higher upon his waist with the other and leaned into her. Something fluttered deep inside her as she continued to stare into his eyes. Elizabeth framed his face in his hands and kissed him, imploring him with all that she was to continue.
And when he did move… Oh, dear Lord… She would break apart and the act had hardly started. Sensations of pleasure, greater than she’d ever known, danced through her, growing stronger with each stroke he made. Need and desire and something she dare not name shimmered into each nerve ending and changed her blood into fire as she held onto his shoulders and tried her best to mirror what he did.
In the end, she could only live in the moment, let it happen to her, enjoy the swelling feelings crashing over, around, and through her. With every push, with each slow, tender thrust Elizabeth fell under his spell, fell for the man himself, fell for what he was. Deeper and deeper he went as if he wished to touch her soul, and still they remained peering into each other’s eyes, never saying a word.
All too soon, her breathing quickened as did her pulse. She drew in a ragged gasp while her breathing labored in time to his more urgent strokes. Faster and faster he impaled her, and when she finally shattered and a scream climbed her throat, Rafe claimed her mouth, taking her surprised cry into himself. The kiss went on and on as did the undulating bliss, and when she noticed that his fangs were no longer present, she couldn’t marvel at that, for he claimed his own release. He thrust another couple of times, which sent her flying all over again until she clung to him, tears falling to her cheeks, her face burrowed into the curve of his shoulder.
This time with him had been so… perfect, so… different than their previous intimacies that she sobbed as the waves of pleasure ebbed away, sobbed because it was over, sobbed to know their future wasn’t settled even after this wonderful joining.
“My sweet Lizzy,” Rafe whispered. He held her head between his palms and he pressed feather-weighted kisses to her closed eyes, her nose, her chin, her cheeks, whisking away the tears. The brush of his lips over hers had her eyes fluttering open. No longer did the red ring around his irises glow
as fierce as before, but in that dim light, she knew with every scrap of her woman’s intuition that he loved her. And her heart squeezed. “Tomorrow, I want to try and break the curse at Manchester’s ball.”
She nodded, licking her lips. The taste of him lingered, but she wanted more. “Please, Rafe, do it for you only if living without the beast will make your life better.”
When he sighed, the expelled breath warmed her cheek. He released her, pulled from her body but wrapped her in a tight embrace that made her want to cry all over again. “Without lifting the curse, I can never win you, so how will that be better?”
Everything came down to her. Would she disappoint him on the morrow? Deep down inside, could she accept all of him? She’d come very close today, realized she could love him if given time, but would it be enough? “I will be there for you tomorrow night, whenever you’re ready.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. By hook or by crook, we will know what fate has planned for us both.”
“Yes,” she breathed and hid her face again. But would it be the outcome he desperately wished for? Would it be her?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
December 16, 1815
The Duke of Manchester’s Christmas ball had opened an hour ago, but Rafe had delayed preparing for it due to mixed feelings.
Things had gone well between him and Elizabeth since he’d defied the duke’s orders and started courting her. Every minute of their time together had hurtled them toward this very night—the night of the last full moon for five years that could possibly break the curse.
He tugged at his exquisitely-knotted cravat and then checked the lace at his cuffs that fell over part of his hands. Had Elizabeth fallen in love with him during that time? She’d certainly had a new softness about her expression at the museum yesterday when they’d resumed their tour. Damnation, but that lovemaking session in the storage room had taken him by surprise. Hell, if he were honest with himself, the lady had knocked him off guard by her willingness to explore the more hideous attributes to his beastly self.
Did that mean she’d accepted him?
A grin tugged at his lips as he alighted from his closed carriage in front of Donovan’s townhouse. Did breaking the curse tonight truly matter? They’d made great strides in trust yesterday, and during coupling, he’d tumbled the rest of the way into love with her. If he hadn’t already given her his full heart before, she would have had it right there in the British Museum.
And the knowledge that something had passed between them gave him hope that tonight would change his life forever.
There was quite the crush as soon as he entered the house. The receiving line was jammed, and for the moment he didn’t wish to mar the evening by antagonizing Donovan. Nor did he wish to see Elizabeth and betray a reaction in front of her brother. Using the speed his vampire half gave him, he bypassed the clog and went on to mingle with other guests until he caught sight of his friends.
They hovered on the edge of the ballroom while couples assembled for a country dance. Heated candle wax and fir boughs perfumed the air, competing with talc powder, various perfumes and sweat. As soon as he drew close, both the Earl of Coventry and the Viscount Mountgarret burst out laughing. Their expressions reflected shock, amusement, as well as a touch of admiration.
“What, pray tell, is that reaction for?” Rafe asked with a grin. “Do I have shaving soap on my face? Have I misbuttoned the jacket?” The piece of clothing he’d taken great pride in and kept at the back of his clothes press, much to the derision of Carmichael, who preferred clothes cut with the modern lines.
“Aren’t you dressed too finely for the occasion, Devon?” Coventry teased as he swept his brilliant emerald gaze up and down Rafe’s person. “I mean, lace? Really? That hasn’t been done for at least ten years, old chap.”
Rafe waved a hand, which showed off the very lace the man derided. “I am bringing style back to the ton.” He smoothed his hand down the front of his longish suit jacket of green satin and brocade, complete with a gold satin waistcoat. Gold buttons and embroidery enhanced the forest green color. “Perhaps it is a bit old-fashioned, but I enjoy the effect it has with my hair.” Which he’d taken great care with, even had Carmichael trim it for the ball before tying it back with the customary strip of leather.
The viscount snorted and Rafe feared he might lose his hold on a champagne flute as he shook with laughter. “Ah, then you think you know how to dress better than Beau Brummel and men of his ilk?”
A touch of heat slapped Rafe’s cheeks, but he ignored it. “No. I wished to wear this ensemble, for I think it still vital. Besides, since I am not a fully accepted member of society, why should I care what is the current fashion?” It was also the most Christmastide-ish jacket he had in his wardrobe.
And Lizzy had liked a similar jacket once upon a time.
“I understand,” Coventry said, and his expression sobered. “You have big expectations tonight, my friend. Why not look the part?”
Only his friends would know what the culmination of this night meant to him. There was a certain comfort in that.
“Ah.” Valentine nodded. He quickly downed the contents of his champagne flute then handed it off to a passing servant with a silver tray. “Then you are attempting to break the curse?” Immediately, the whole of the viscount’s attention was upon him.
“That is the plan,” Rafe confirmed with a nod. He scanned the building crowd in the ballroom, but he still didn’t spy Elizabeth. His chest tightened when his gaze fell, however briefly, upon Rockingham before the man slipped out toward one of the card rooms. “Let us hope that is still the case.” Surely Elizabeth wouldn’t throw him over in favor of the marquess, not on this night.
Coventry flicked his gaze from him to the retreating form of the other man and then back to Rafe. “You feel she’ll choose Rockingham anyway.”
He shrugged and tried to affect an uncaring attitude. “If she does, I will wish her well, for what else can I do?” Though his heart ached. He ignored that too. “Though I would understand, for if she will only accept me if the curse breaks, I will have to let her go.”
And it would kill him after everything they’d shared the last several days.
Both men stared at him, speculation in their expressions.
Finally, Valentine nodded. “I understand, and I do hope you find the outcome you’re hoping for this evening.” He clapped a hand upon Rafe’s shoulder. “Having a woman in your life is hell.”
“For clarity’s sake, I would say instead that attempting to win the woman in my life isn’t the most pleasant thing, but it will be worth it.” Rafe plastered a smile to his face, for he chose to remain optimistic. “And you, Valentine? Do you intend to linger in Town after tonight?” With the viscount gone, Manchester still an arse, and Elizabeth’s possible defection, London would be lonely indeed.
“If not tomorrow, then I’ll leave sometime before Christmas.” His turquoise eyes reflected sadness. “I miss the sea.”
Coventry frowned. “Ah, you are once more captaining your ship?”
“I am thinking heavily on it.” The viscount bounced his gaze between them. “What can I say? Without the hope of breaking the curse for five years, I might as well sail. The sea is an exacting mistress to be sure, but she is easier to navigate than attempting to find true love.”
“I’m sorry.” Rafe fell into silence. Where the devil was Elizabeth?
The dance in progress ended, and another set up. Valentine stirred. When he grinned, the gesture didn’t reflect in his eyes. “Are you going to avoid Manchester tonight, Devon?”
Rafe shrugged. “I’m not certain, but it’s doubtful he’d make a scene at his own ball, what with his life turning a corner into respectability.” No longer was there bitterness in the words, for if fortune smiled upon him, he would enjoy such an existence as well.
“Don’t let the rift between you linger. You are too good of friends, and you need each other.” The earl glanced awa
y to study the couples moving through the ballroom. “By the by, your lady has already shared a set with Rockingham this night.”
“That does not concern me, for our first dance together is soon.” He’d asked her to pencil in his name onto her card at least twice, for the sets of her choosing.
A grin played about the earl’s lips. “Perhaps, if it is a waltz, you’ll whisk her into the gardens and make use of the moonlight.” He winked and nudged the viscount in the ribs with an elbow. “You’ve been suspiciously absent at the club of late.”
“I slip in after midnight to feed, but the remainder of my time has been reserved.” Then, he saw her, and he forgot how to breathe. In fact, he forgot his own name or that there was anyone else in the room with him. As the crowds parted briefly in the pattern of the dance, his gaze met hers. “God, she’s beautiful,” he murmured, and didn’t care if his friends heard the awe in his voice.
Her gown of midnight sapphire resembled the skies just out the terrace doors. Shot with silver thread and a gauzy overskirt of silver embroidery, it sparkled like stars every time she moved. A silver ribbon about her waist, tied into a flamboyant bow, teased his mind, for she stood looking back at him with a faint smile as if she wished for him to unwrap the gown and reveal her curves. Combs glittering with sapphires and diamonds held her upswept hair, which highlighted her slender throat and the pale skin of her nape.
Both Coventry and Mountgarret shared a laugh.
“Poor devil.” Valentine pushed at Rafe’s shoulder. “Go claim her hand for the next dance… if you can remember the steps.”
Rafe didn’t care that the ballroom was crowded with couples on the dance floor going through the last steps of the current set. He should have gone around the edges, but that would have taken too long to reach Elizabeth’s side. Instead, he cut across the floor, dodging and ducking and twisting away from couples so that he wouldn’t crash into them. When he stumbled over to her, a shaft of warmth went through him as her eyes lit with pleasure.
Bitten By the Earl (Lords of the Night Book Two) Page 21
