“Balvenie needs an heir…”
He had been ignoring that whisper, ignoring that necessity, because his appalling guilt over Amelia’s death would not permit him to put someone else in her place.
He looked at Joanna. She was very pale. Her face looked carved from marble. Her breathing was shallow, nervous. He remembered the words of David Ware’s codicil, the taunting lines that made it clear how greatly Joanna wanted a child. It was borne out by her utter determination, her desperation even, to claim Nina. But was there any reason why she could not have a child of her own? It was true that in nine years of marriage she had not given Ware a child, but that was probably merely chance. She thought she had little to offer him, but in fact she might give him a very great deal. An heir for Balvenie… It would be another obligation discharged, another responsibility fulfilled. It would be perfect. He would be marrying Joanna for sound practical reasons and they both understood that. He desired her, but he would never love her and so he would not be betraying Amelia in any way. He would not be replacing her.
Joanna met his eyes and he was shocked to see that she still looked nervous. “You’re afraid,” he said abruptly, seeing the way that her fingers trembled and she locked them together to try to quell it.
“Of course I am afraid!” She turned on him with a flutter of silk. “I swore never to wed again. It is no secret that my marriage to David was unhappy. And I don’t want another adventurer who blazes across my life, promises everything and then walks out and leaves me with nothing!” She sounded despairing.
“At least this time we would both know the terms of our agreement and we would adhere to them,” Alex said roughly. It was the first real insight Joanna had ever given him into her estrangement from Ware and he knew she had done it unconsciously, under stress.
“Yes.” She let out her breath on a sigh. “I am not as young and foolish as I was when I wed David. So I ask for nothing more than your name and a home.” She straightened her spine. “What do you say?”
“No,” Alex said. “I don’t want a glorified housekeeper turned nursemaid.”
Her chin came up. “I am told they are cheaper than a wife.”
“Perhaps.” He caught her by the shoulders and felt the heat of her through the thin silk of her gown. His desire for her burned as hot as a furnace now. “I don’t want a marriage in name only,” he said. He thought of Balvenie and his need for an heir.
“You came here to seduce me,” he said. “So do it.”
THE BREATH LEFT JOANNA’S lungs in a rush. Intentions, she thought, even bad ones, were all very well in theory. She searched his face, so stern, so dark. Seduce him? It felt impossible when he looked so unapproachable. In fact, it had always been impossible, hopeless, utter madness, even to imagine she could do it… Her confidence had always been woefully short, hiding behind the temptress image of the silver gauze gown.
“Are you telling me you will not marry me unless I seduce you?” she demanded. She felt outraged, unbelieving. “You are even less of a gentleman than I had thought!”
He laughed. Damn him. In the candlelight he looked disheveled and reckless, suddenly every inch the adventurer he was. “Had you more experience,” he said, “you would know that very few men are true gentlemen at a time like this.” He shifted. “Some would be, perhaps. I am honest enough to admit that I am not one of them.” He was watching her and the look in his eyes made her feel very, very hot. “You made the original suggestion, if you recall,” Alex continued. “So, yes, that is correct. I will not wed you unless you seduce me. Seal the deal.”
“Seal the deal?” Joanna wrinkled up her nose. “What an uncommonly vulgar expression.”
He took a step closer to her. “I do not want any misunderstandings about our marriage, Joanna. If we wed it will not be in name only. I desire you and I would not wish to wed you and then take my pleasure in another’s bed because yours is denied to me.”
Well, there was some honor in that, Joanna thought. She remembered David and his utter inability to be faithful, and felt, oddly, precious and cherished. And Alex was right, of course—it had been her idea in the first place, what seemed like a hundred years before. Now it seemed impossible yet strangely intriguing at the same time.
“Pleasure,” she whispered, and could not quite suppress a little quiver of anticipation.
“Yes.” Again that wicked smile lit Alex’s gray eyes. He tilted his head. “Do I infer that you are not accustomed to it?”
She was not, of course. David Ware had cared for no one’s pleasure but his own. There had been little space in his universe for anything other than himself.
“I…” There was no way of talking about such things without mentioning David and she really did not want to think about him now.
“For an aspiring seductress you are strangely reticent,” Alex said.
For a seductress she was hopeless. She knew it, but she did not need him to point it out. Nor could she go through with this outrageous dare, not now it came to the point. It was, she thought, the natural conclusion of the dark, dangerous game they had been playing, simultaneously distrusting one another, goading each other and yet captured by this strange, potent attraction that would not ease its grip. And now Alex had thrown down the ultimate challenge and she had proved too weak-willed to accept it. She thought of a future without home or money or anyplace in the world. For a terrifying few seconds her mind was completely blank; it simply could not provide her with any pictures of what such an existence might look like. But the alternative was standing in front of her and he looked dangerous.
“You can never forbear to criticize,” she said. “I have changed my mind. The entire agreement is off—”
Alex made an exasperated sound, put out a hand and grabbed her. He tangled one hand in her hair, tilted up her face and kissed her. Immediately their lips touched, the desire engulfed her, hotter, sweeter and more intense than before. She drew back before she drowned in it and opened her eyes. “I’ll not kiss a man who smells of brandy, thank you.”
“Live dangerously,” Alex said. He was smiling. He was so close that she felt dizzy with the effect of his nearness. “It is not any brandy,” he added. “It is the Prince Regent’s best brandy.” He looked at her. The expression in his eyes was dark and concentrated. “Your choice,” he said. “It’s either on—or it’s off.”
Much as her clothes would soon be if she did not get out of there fast. Joanna trembled.
“Off.”
He did not move. He was standing between her and the door.
“Coward,” he said. “You’re willing to risk an uncertain future for Nina and Merryn—and for yourself—because you dare not sleep with me?”
The heat in the room seemed to rise. The candle flames danced, bright and hot.
“Blackmailer. You are no better than Hagan.” Joanna raised a hand to slap him. She felt a shocking welter of emotions: anger, desire, shame and furious arousal all mixed into one.
He caught her wrist negligently and dropped it as though it was of no account. “It was your idea,” he said. “A good one, for once. But—” he shrugged “—by all means go if you wish.” He turned away.
“No.” Something snapped inside her. “I can’t. I want Nina.” She did want the child, desperately. She also had less worthy aims. She looked down at the silver gauze gown. “And I want to live in London and wear beautiful gowns.”
Alex laughed. “So in the end you’ll make love with me for the sake of your wardrobe? That sounds about right.”
He picked her up and tossed her on the bed. It was so sudden and shocking that she lay there, winded for a moment. He was kneeling above her and he looked huge and powerful and shockingly masculine and she felt her heart race with a mixture of apprehension and fascination and the most wicked, wicked delight. The sensation curled in her belly, tightening to unbearable tension. She felt tormented by the most excruciating need, simultaneously furious with him and yet frantic to feel him inside her. She had n
ever felt such intolerable desire; even thinking of it caused her whole body to tighten still further with shock and desperation.
Alex bent down until his mouth covered hers, trapping her between his body and the bed. Her hands were spread against the coverlet and she could feel the rough brocade against her palms. The kiss was a clear statement of intent and her body instantly recognized it as such. His lips were insistent, demanding, his tongue tangling with hers and inciting a heated response she could barely control. She could feel his arousal against her belly; feel, too, the way her body rose to meet his, the way her breasts peaked against her silken chemise and her hips arched to press closer. Then one thought pierced the sensual haze.
“Please don’t squash my gown,” she murmured, remembering the shocking price she had paid for it at Madame Ermine’s shop.
Alex drew back with an exasperated sigh. “Take it off, then,” he said. “Before I do it myself but with less finesse.”
“I am not able to take off my gown without the help of a maid,” Joanna said.
Alex sighed again and before she knew what was happening he had rolled her over so that she was lying on her stomach on the bed. She gave a little squeak of protest as she felt his impatient fingers at the nape of her neck, brushing her hair aside, starting on the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons that ran down the back of her gown. She felt his fingers slip and heard him swear.
“Please don’t damage it,” she entreated again.
He made a sort of growling sound in his throat. “You need something else to think about.” His lips touched her nape, spreading heat and shivers across her skin. His teeth nipped the naked skin of her shoulder and neck as his fingers continued their downward path. He worked on the fastenings of her gown with a concentrated efficiency that offended her but also hotly, shockingly, aroused her. His fingers were steady on the buttons, whereas she was shaking all over.
He pulled the gown from her. She heard something rip and started to protest, but he rolled her over onto her back and covered her mouth with his, and then his tongue was dancing with hers and he tasted so delicious, of raw spirit and equally potent masculinity, that she forgot her objections. His mouth was hot and hard, the demand explicit, and she writhed beneath its command and beneath the touch of his hands. Apprehension fluttered briefly and then died within her. No, this was not David, selfish in his need. She had known from the beginning that Alex was not a man who used his strength to frighten others. Though his hands and mouth plundered, they gave pleasure, too, such exquisite pleasure as he rolled the silk chemise from her shoulders, and down to expose her breasts to his gaze. His touch was light, caressing and infinitely sweet as it drew out her response. She shifted restlessly, wanting him, arching her breasts to his lips. He paused, his breath just brushing one tight pink peak, and she ached for him to take her in his mouth.
“You have the most delicious…”
She waited, her body tense as a bow.
“Underwear.” His hand was splayed across her stomach, hot on the rumpled silk of her petticoats. “Do you buy it in Bond Street?”
“As if you care.” She grabbed his head and brought it down to her breast, and heard him laugh as he licked and tugged at her nipple. She almost screamed as the sensation seared through her, then remembered that she was in a hotel room and that Frazer was nearby, and felt wicked shock and endless pleasure cascade through her at the wantonness of it all. She pulled Alex to her, digging her nails into the hard muscles of his shoulders, and ripped his shirt off him with absolutely no regard for whether she damaged the material or not. It was not as though he prided himself on his appearance as she did.
It was her last logical thought before he kissed her again and she tumbled into that dark, erotic place from which she never wanted to escape. His tongue slid against hers and she reached for him with absolute demand. He had taken all her clothes off now and it was her hands, not his, that went to the band of his pantaloons, feverish to remove this last barrier between them. She heard him catch his breath, saw in the candlelight the dark intensity of his expression and could not help the flicker of apprehension twist inside her, the last dark remnants of David’s cruelty. This time, though, Alex felt her withdraw, and he drew back. His eyes glittered with the same need she could feel within herself, a desire at war with the last shreds of her fear.
“Don’t be afraid…”
How had he known? Her tense muscles eased as he lightly kissed her brow and her collarbone, the hollow beneath her ear and the line of her neck. His hands were soothing now, lulling her into relaxation even as they trailed the sweetest, most gentle excitement in their wake.
“Trust me.”
She did. She acknowledged it, felt relief. He would never hurt her. She knew that.
Alex slid down the bed and eased her legs apart. Joanna froze as he lowered his head to her. She gave a little moan of denial and tried to move, but now he was holding her firmly, ruthlessly possessive, and his tongue had an erotic mastery that made her cry out. She was caught in a spiraling whirl of feeling, and then a raining tumult of sensation took her entirely by surprise, raising her up and tumbling her over the edge of an abyss to lie spent and shattered below. She gasped and opened her eyes and the room spun and rocked and her body clenched tight again and again in a torrent of bliss.
“I’ve never… I didn’t know…” She lay stunned and breathless on the bed. Those feelings of anticipation, she thought. The sense of fulfillment that had never been satisfied…
She looked at Alex. He was propped on one elbow beside her. He looked supremely pleased with himself.
“You didn’t know,” he murmured, “how extraordinary.”
Joanna rolled over on her side and reached for the sheet. She was suddenly anxious to cover herself up and retreat from such open vulnerability.
“I didn’t mean—” she started to say, but he took the sheet from her and pulled it down so that she was once again exposed to his eyes.
“I know what you meant,” he said. He smiled. “But we haven’t finished yet.”
Joanna gave a little moan as he covered her, sliding between her legs, driving deep into her sleek heat in one smooth thrust. It had been so long for her and never, ever like this. Before, she had endured, waiting for the end. With Alex she was immediately swept up in the same storm of sensation as before, the pleasure thrumming through her body, hot and strong. He felt so big and she felt impossibly full and yet desperate to draw him deeper still. She felt herself twitch and writhe beneath him, caught her breath on a gasp and curled her fingers tightly into the sheets.
“Alex…”
He kissed her again, gently biting down on her lower lip, then salving it with his tongue, easing himself out of her and back with strong fluid strokes that drove her straight back into that tumult of pleasure. She raised her hips to meet him and heard him groan as he thrust harder, long and deep. He paused and she hung on the edge for what felt like agonizing moments and then he bent his lips to her breast, sucking, nipping and teasing her, and the fire licked hotter and she thought she would be consumed. She reached for him in desperation and he slid deep again and she splintered apart at last, more violently than before, the pleasure bursting through her mind in a scatter of blinding white light. She heard Alex gasp her name in a dark whisper and it seemed the sweetest thing she had ever heard, and then he emptied his seed into her body and they lay still, intimately entwined, and all she could hear was the harshness of their breathing. Their bodies were slick against each other, hot with sweat, the roughness of his thigh against the smoothness of hers. He brushed the hair away from her face, running his hands through its softness, holding her head still as he kissed her mouth gently. It was the tenderest thing she had ever experienced. She felt her body consumed with total satisfaction, felt it slipping and sliding toward sleep. She knew that she should get up, leave, go home, but for now she was too content to move. Sleep claimed her before she had any further thought.
Joanna woke after a few ho
urs. The candles had burned out and the air smelled of tallow. Her body felt lush and ripe and complete and for a moment her mind drifted, uncertain of where she was and not really caring. Then she remembered and she sat bolt upright.
She glanced at Alex. He looked young and tousled and vulnerable, so different from his usual hard-edged sternness that her heart missed a beat and a feeling of tenderness stole through her. The covers were about his waist, revealing his hard, muscular chest. The stubble was darkening his chin, and his eyelashes lay thick and black against the line of his cheek. Joanna sat still, unable to breathe properly past the strange, smothering feeling in her chest. It did not feel like shock, or shame, or any of the other emotions she might have expected to feel waking naked in the bed of a man she had known for barely a week. It did not feel like fear for the future, or regret, or loss of the past. She did not know what it was, but she felt it for Alex Grant, of all people, and it scared her. It scared her to death.
It was not the infatuation she had felt for David Ware before they had wed. Never for one moment had she felt for Alex that blind and unquestioning devotion she had given so openly and in the end so pointlessly to David.
She knew what Lottie would say if only she knew. She could almost hear Lottie’s voice:
“What you are feeling is gratitude, darling, because unlike David, Alex actually devoted himself to your pleasure in bed! You have found a new hobby and you are in lust…”
Lottie, she was sure, would be light and irreverent and very probably jealous. But mere gratitude, the shock of discovery, did not entirely account for her feelings and it was surely best not to examine them too closely. Sometimes there were benefits in being superficial.
Joanna tried to ease herself surreptitiously from beneath the covers. She could see her clothing scattered across the floor. That silver gown would never be the same again, but if she collected up the pearl buttons then perhaps Madame Ermine could salvage something from the wreck. She would have to make up some excuse, of course, as to how they had come to be ripped off…
Whisper of Scandal Page 17
