Simon focused on her pleasure. A slow torment of her senses with mouth and tongue and lips which that would leave her mindless, unable to resist his will.
He laved those beautiful rose-tipped breasts with his tongue. Her moan of delight sent blood to his cock. He was so hard he could scarcely think. He drew in a shuddering breath and traced a path of kisses to her belly. He swirled his tongue in her navel. He was a brute to want her so much he couldn’t see straight. But she did want him almost as much. Her soft cries, deep in her throat, told him she did.
He placed his hands on each side of her shoulders and moved to cover her with his body.
Agonizing pain ground from his shoulder to the recesses of his mind, leaving him rigid and motionless. Darkness edged his vision. He’d lost control. He groaned.
“Simon.”
Fear rampant in her expression, her face floated in front of his and he wanted to rail against fate. She made him so weak, even here, where he should dominate. He was cursed.
He gritted his teeth and levered himself up again. She pushed at him and, unable to resist, he collapsed on his side. He squeezed his eyelids shut, reaching for the distance that kept him safe from pain and humiliation.
Warm and moist, her lips brushed his, her tongue traced the seam of his mouth. Scorching heat fired his blood. He opened his eyes and caught her saucy smile.
“My turn,” she said.
Saints above protect him. This woman was extraordinary.
Surrendering control, something he hadn’t done for years, he forced himself to lay still beneath her gentle touch. Her mouth followed the line of his jaw, her breath whispered in his ear, sending a thrill of exquisite pleasure laced with unbearable pain to his cock. He moaned.
The torture didn’t stop. Relentless in her exploration of his body, her hands fluttered over his arms, her lips traveled to his chest and found his nipple. She licked. He could not prevent his gasp as it pebbled and sent an arrow of desire to his bollocks.
She nibbled with her teeth at his tit’s sensitive nub and his hips rose off the bed, seeking her, wanting her tight around his now granite-hard cock.
“Victoria,” he groaned.
“Simon,” she whispered against his chest. “Tell me what to do next.”
“Straddle me, sweet, ride me the way you rode Diablo.”
On her hands and knees, she lifted herself over him. The dark curls of her mons rested on his belly, hot and moist against his skin.
“That’s it, darling.” He reached down and slipped a finger into her soft folds, gently massaging her little nub of pleasure. Her faced tightened and her glazed eyes slid closed. He cupped his palm against her hot, womanly flesh, swollen ready for him.
“Let me inside you. Lift your hips.” He grasped her hip and raised her up.
Dazed and uncomprehending, her eyes gazed down at him. He rubbed the tip of his cock along her slit, reveling in her wet heat.
Sudden comprehension filled her expression and she smiled. She lifted herself and began a slow slide down his rigid cock.
Pleasure blazed a trail to his brain. His mind spun out of control. Desire radiated through his body and his soul.
The intense sensation of Simon deep inside her made Victoria gasp. His hand, hot on her buttock, encouraged her to rise again. She savored the searing heat traveling from where they joined to the tips of her breasts as she moved along his length. She learned how his body fit into hers to produce unimaginable quivers of delicious feeling. Each slide of hot flesh against hard arousal produced an unendurable, stomach-clenching shiver and teased her need for more.
“Oh, Victoria.” The deep longing in his voice jolted in her belly. She squeezed him tight inside her and rocked her hips.
“Yes,” he breathed. “God. Yes.”
Her spirit soared as she knew her own power to give him delight. There was only him inside her, his body hard and thrusting up to meet her with each slow, downward stroke, his palm and fingers on her breasts. She leaned forward to his lifted head. He latched onto her nipple and suckled. Heat and tension vibrated in her body and her mind. She pressed down harder, clutching him inside her, tighter until it felt as if they were one person.
Blackness filled her mind. Urgently, she launched herself over the edge and felt him fly with her. They soared as bliss exploded. His ragged cry told her he had reached his own fulfillment.
She collapsed on his chest.
She couldn’t move. Warmth invaded every part of her body, her heart thudded in her chest in time to Simon’s.
He wanted to marry her and now, after this, she wasn’t sure she could let him go. She tried to think about what it meant, but her body demanded that she sleep.
She shivered. Her source of warmth had gone. Simon. Out of bed and stumbling around, the soft gleam from the window outlining his lithe, muscular form. Need tugged at her, a bottomless well of desire. “Come back to bed.”
The bed ropes creaked beneath his weight as he sat on the edge. He tossed her a wicked smile over his shoulder and patted her bottom. “I heard a noise. Likely nothing of concern.”
All the same, he was whispering. He pulled on his breeches. She groped around, found her shift on the pillow next to her head and slipped it on.
Simon pulled on his boots. “Stay here while I check downstairs.”
The sound of booted feet on the stairs brought him upright. His head banged against the low ceiling and he swore softly. He lunged for the door.
Too late. It swung back with a crash.
Stunned, Victoria pulled the sheet up under her chin.
“Well, well. And what do we have here?”
Ogden? A pistol gleamed evilly in the light of a candle held by a man peering over Ogden’s shoulder. Quigley. A surged of terror robbed her of breath. She shuddered. Simon had been right about him, about Ogden.
“Bugger off, you stupid bastard,” Simon said wearily. “And take that oaf with you.”
“Who, Quigley?” Ogden’s voice crackled with scarcely contained excitement. “He’s got a score to settle with you.”
Ogden ran his gaze over the bed. “Victoria. Good evening. I see you didn’t heed my warning.” He flourished a bow as if they were meeting at a ball.
A blush heated her face at his derisive tone.
Simon moved to block Ogden’s view of her. “Get out.”
Ogden stepped over the threshold and took the candle from Quigley. “Tie his hands.”
Bringing his fists up in front of him, Simon squared off at Quigley. Ogden directed the pistol at Victoria. “Do as you are told, Sin, or Miss Yelverton will pay the price.” There was something about his expression that sent a shiver down her back. Calculating coldness. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it, either. He’d worn it when he looked at her brother, when he’d thought no one else was watching. She’d told herself she was imagining things, that he had their best interests at heart. He’d always seemed so sympathetic to her troubles, she had given him the benefit of the doubt. It was also the same expression he’d worn when he arrived at St. John Hall. She just hadn’t wanted to believe her eyes and her instincts.
“What a coward you are,” Simon taunted. “Always picking on the weak. Your grievance is with me. Are you so afraid to face me?”
Simon wasn’t helping matters by making him angry. She swallowed against the dryness in her mouth and finally found her voice. “My lord, I am here of my free will. This is not your concern.”
“Is it not?” Ogden walked around the end of the bed toward her.
Simon shifted his body keeping his gaze fixed on the pistol, keeping himself between Ogden and Victoria.
Quigley swung at him. Simon dodged, but Quigley’s fist caught him on the jaw and he staggered back.
The sound of the blow resonated through her body. “No!”
Quigley raised his hand to strike again. She threw herself at him striking out at him with her fists. “Stop it. He’s wounded.”
“For God’s sake, stay bac
k,” Simon said and warded her off with his forearm. She fell to her knees on the bed.
This was a nightmare. She desperately wanted to wake up.
Ogden put the candle down on the night table and gripped her arm, digging into her flesh. His hand was cold, reptilian. She tried to tug free, but he pulled her against his chest with one hand, the other still pointing the pistol at Simon. “Don’t worry, Victoria. I’ll take care of you after I’ve dealt with him.” His caressing voice made her stomach heave. There was something very wrong about this man. Why had she not seen it before?
A knowing smile twisted his lips. “Come quietly, Travis. I promise Victoria will be well looked after.”
Anxiety creasing his brow, Simon swung his attention away from Quigley.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, more confidently than she felt.
Quigley’s fist slammed into Simon’s bandaged shoulder and Simon sank to his knees with a groan. The sound tore at her heart.
Victoria slipped from Ogden’s grasping hand and leaned over the bed, trying to help Simon to his feet. “Stop it, you brute. You’ll kill him.”
Ogden ran his hand over her back, then caught her around the waist, pulling her away from Simon. “I’ll make you forget all about him, m’dear.” She lashed out at his face and he threw her onto the bed.
Simon lurched to his feet. “Take your hands off her, Ogden, and I will let you live. Cover yourself, Victoria.” Murder shone from his blue eyes, his jaw like granite, his fists clenched.
Suddenly aware of her near nakedness, she pulled the quilt around her.
Quigley lunged across the bed and punched Simon in the stomach. Simon doubled over, coughing and gasping for air. Quigley dragged his hands behind his back and tied them with a rope he pulled from his pocket.
Against her every urge, Victoria remained still, terrified of making things worse. Though how they could get worse, she didn’t know. Simon was outnumbered and the bandage around his wound was turning red.
Simon bit out a curse as Quigley yanked the rope cruelly tight. He wavered on his feet, clearly in pain.
She had to do something. “Please, my lord. Stop this. You are hurting him.”
“Don’t beg, Victoria.” Simon’s voice rasped a warning.
Ogden gave her his familiar, courtly smile and captured her hands in his. “She’ll beg all right. She will beg for me and forget you.”
How could she have been taken in by his superficial charm? He was nothing but a snake. Disgusted, she pulled her hands free. “Don’t touch me.”
Ogden glared at her, his eyes glittering strangely. “Weeks I wasted on you. Putting up with your idiot brother, sitting with you in that hovel in Golden Square, drinking tea made from reused leaves. Your brother was so stupid I took almost every penny, but all the drunken fool ever wanted was to pit his puny skills against Travis.” She froze at the venom in his voice. He tipped up her chin with one finger and forced her to meet his gaze. “You owe me for hours and hours of boredom. Do you think I ever cared about Michael or his pathetic bit of money? You were always the prize.”
How stubbornly blind she had been. Ogden had led Michael into ruin to get to her. The man she had defended as her brother’s friend was, in the end, responsible for his death. She wanted to weep. She jerked her face away.
“Why then did you suggest I take her in after the duel, if you were so keen to have her?” Simon asked, his gaze full of fury.
Ogden’s expression turned rueful. “If I had thought for a single moment you would act on my suggestion, I never would have made it. I simply wanted to make you feel guilty.”
“Idiot,” Simon said. “You haven’t a scrap of honor.”
Quigley hauled on the rope around Simon’s wrists and he hissed in a sharp breath, though his expression remained unmoved. “Bastard.”
“Now then, Sin,” Ogden said his voice full of a strange kind of glee. “Mind your language in the presence of a lady.” He smiled. “She’s a tasty morsel, isn’t she? I shall enjoy getting to know her intimately.”
Victoria couldn’t repress her shudder.
Simon lunged at Ogden. Quigley jabbed an elbow in the side of his head. Simon would have fallen if Quigley hadn’t held him up by his bound arms.
“Leave her alone, you bloody bastard,” Simon grated out. Blood ran down his face from a cut over his eye.
Victoria desperately tried to calm her shaking nerves. She had to do something to help Simon. She ran her gaze around the room. There had to be something she could use as a weapon.
“Stay out of this, Victoria,” Simon warned.
Ogden leered at her. “Do as he says. Be a good girl and I won’t have to punish you. You’ll enjoy coming to me, Victoria. I’m a good lover, you’ll see.”
Simon cursed. “Lay one finger on her and I will kill you.”
Victoria wanted to weep, she felt so frustrated. What a fool she had been to trust this man over Simon. Her gaze lingered on the heavy candlestick on the night table. Dare she? Quigley would hit Simon if she did anything so rash. He really could not take any more of Quigley’s blows and survive. She looked away.
“Thought better of it, did you?” Ogden said. “You are a quick learner. I am looking forward to teaching you other things, too. Obedience will do for now.”
Every word out of his mouth sounded salacious. She shuddered at the thought of ever being alone with him. Somehow she had to escape and get help.
“Sun’s coming up, my lord,” Quigley said glancing out of the window.
Ogden straightened his cravat with a swift jerk. “Indeed,” he said. “We must hurry if we are to get him out of here unseen.”
Simon glared back at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ogden ignored him. “Victoria, you will remain here until I return for you.” With a swift bow, he left the room. Shoving Simon ahead of him, Quigley followed. The door closed and Victoria heard the sound of the key turning in the lock.
A few moments later the front door slammed then there was only the sound of the birds in the trees beyond the window as they greeted the dawn.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dressing swiftly, Victoria considered her options. Surely the landlord and his wife must have heard the ruckus. Why would they not have come to see what was going on under their roof?
She tried the door. Thick-planked with iron hinges, the door offered no chance of escape. She crossed to the window and peered out. A rosy glow lit the sky to the east. Already she could make out the shape of the bushes in the garden below.
She gasped and drew back at the sight of two men conversing in the deep shadows. More of Ogden’s men? Keeping guard? One of them stood head and shoulders above the other. His fair hair catching the first rays of sunlight, he gesticulated toward the inn. The slighter man nodded his head. At length, the tall man slapped his underling on the shoulder and strode off through the gate. His henchman entered the inn. Now was her chance to escape.
The window latch refused to budge no matter how hard she tried. She needed... The candlestick. She used it like a hammer, all the while fearing the man would hear and come to see what she was doing that sounded so loud. The latch inched across the wooden window frame until, finally, it was free. She shoved the window open and looked down. It was an awfully long drop to the ground.
She dashed to the bed and pulled off the linen. Clearly, Viscount Ogden had no idea that every female who ever read a romance novel knew to use bed sheets to escape the villain of the story. Ha! She couldn’t help smiling as she knotted the sheets together. She fastened the makeshift rope to the bedstead and threw it out the window. Not daring to look down in case she lost her courage, she clambered over the windowsill and slid alongdown the knotted length. She landed amid a rather scratchy rosemary bush. She pulled her skirts free and held her breath. Not a sound. Except the birds.
With the other man in the house, she could not risk going to find Mr Davis so she followed the path the tall, blond man had taken. This mu
st be the way Ogden had taken Simon. Praying she wouldn’t be too late, she ran as fast as she could, all the while trying not to make any noise.
The track entered a woods. Very little daylight filtered through the heavy canopy. Earthy, damp, leaf mold scented the air and softened her footfalls. The chirping of birds filled the air.
Not far into the forest she heard shouting. As she drew closer, she could make out two voices, one yelling, the other speaking in lower tones. It had to be Ogden and Simon. Following the direction of their voices, she crept closer, using a holly bush to screen her presence when she reached the edge of a clearing where Ogden paced in front of a still-bound, bare-chested Simon whose upper arms were held fast by Quigley. What on earth were they doing?
She couldn’t get any nearer, but she was close enough to see blood running from Simon’s injured shoulder and new cuts on his chest and face. But that wasn’t what made her gasp. Three men stood around them facing out with guns in their hands. Ogden had brought a small army. Though there was no sign of the blond man she had followed.
Ogden thrust his face into Simon’s. “Why won’t you admit it, damn you?” he yelled.
“Go to hell,” Simon replied.
Ogden struck out with the back of his hand hitting Simon across the cheek. His head snapped back. He spat what looked like blood. Victoria muffled a scream with her fist against her mouth.
But she couldn’t just stand here watching. This had to stop. Victoria started forward.
A hand grabbed her wrist, another covered her mouth and her captor pulled her back against his large form. He hustled her behind the trunk of an enormous oak and spun her around. Breathless, terrified then astonished, she stared into the grim face of the Marquess of Deveril. He was the blond man she’d seen in the garden. Why had she not guessed?
“What the hell are you doing out here, Miss Yelverton?” he asked in a low murmur.
“Please, you must help Simon.”
“All in good time.” He narrowed his eyes on her face. “Do not move from here until I say you may. He won’t thank me if you are harmed. Understand?”
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