by Gaelen Foley
He gave her a sardonic look.
“So, how long might it take you to win five thousand pounds?”
“Not long, I hope. Within a fortnight or so, if all goes well.”
“Amazing.” She could see how one could become addicted to such quick and easy profits. “Do you play tonight?”
“No,” he replied with a sensuous note in his murmur. “Not tonight.”
It made her blood burn.
For a long moment they were locked in a speculative, hungry stare. Becky felt her heart skip a beat. “We’ll have to find some other way to amuse ourselves, then.”
“I can think of one or two.”
“I’m sure you can, my lord.” She sent him the subtlest of wicked smiles and then lowered her gaze, savoring a dainty spoonful of her sugary lemon ice with fresh blueberries on top. “You know, the second time, they say, doesn’t hurt at all.”
“That is what they say,” he purred. He took a drink of wine and licked his lips.
She flinched, staring at his lovely mouth. “Alec?”
“Yes, Becky?”
“When?” she whispered.
“Just as soon as you change your mind about marrying me,” he replied, returning to his study of the racing odds printed in the sporting newspaper that he had been perusing.
“But—” Her voice broke off.
“Yes?” He glanced up with a sly look of nonchalance.
Becky frowned. “It’s not as if I don’t want to marry you. I know I’m compromised—even more so now. But . . .”
He lifted his eyebrows. “But I’m too much of a rake and you don’t think I’ll ever change.”
His words startled her.
“I’ve heard that a few times before,” he explained drily.
“Actually, that wasn’t what I was going to say.”
“Oh, very well. I’ll bite. ‘But’ what, Becky-love?”
“As I told you in that little church, a woman has honor, too. Look at all you’ve done for me. You deserve to be happy. I, more than anyone else, must insist on your happiness. It’s bad enough that I’ve tangled you up in all this trouble. I won’t also drag you into a situation that might make you unhappy for the rest of your life. You don’t want to get married. You are as free as the wind, that’s clear. None of this was your fault. You don’t deserve to be punished for your honor.”
He looked away, pursed his lips, and then scratched his cheek. “Being married to you, Becky, would hardly rate as punishment.”
She blushed red, her fluttering gaze cast downward. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better.”
“No, I’m saying that, obviously, because I want you in my bed.”
She gasped and looked up, wide-eyed.
He flashed her one of his bone-melting, rogue-from-hell smiles.
Becky narrowed her eyes at him, recovering quickly, humor half concealed behind her stern look. Well, this fine rascal took a little too much enjoyment in shocking her, didn’t he? It was his favorite way of changing the subject, she had noticed.
She looked away, taking another sip of white wine. Yes, she thought, time to give him back a dose of his own medicine.
“But Lord Alec,” she said in her most demure tone, “there’s nowhere I would rather be than in your bed.”
Ha, she thought, hiding a grin at his startled look.
“Unfortunately,” she continued sweetly, “I cannot go there with you until I can believe you actually want to marry me. If that should come to pass,” she continued with a smoldering gaze, “then I will embrace it as my goal—my duty—nay, my mission as your lover and your mate—to make you forget every other woman you have ever known.”
The look in his wide blue eyes plainly said, Good God!
Becky toasted him with her wine, just as he had taught her to do. Alec glanced away, looking utterly confounded and decidedly aroused by her words.
He abruptly cleared his throat. “Well, ah, isn’t the garden nice this time of year?”
Becky stifled a laugh and let the subject go. She trusted she had made her point, and now she knew where he stood on the matter, too. If he could be happy married to her, then she could agree to the marriage, and they could lock themselves in his chamber and not come out again for a week.
With delicious awareness tingling in the air between them, they talked idly about nothing in particular, eventually subsiding into a companionable silence that was punctuated only by the occasional shriek of a seagull in the distance and the soft luffing of the tent’s striped fabric in the sea breeze.
A honeybee hovered around the voluptuous bowl of fruit that adorned the center of the table while their second bottle of white wine sweated in the cooler. Becky gazed across the garden at the full-blown roses climbing up the back of the house: bright pink blooms and dark foliage against the creamy stucco, with the soaring dome of the azure sky arcing overhead. Alec lay back in his plump-cushioned wicker chaise and closed his eyes, reposing in all his sun-god glory.
She stared at him until he lifted his sandy lashes slowly again, as though sensing her rapt attention. He slipped her a lazy, knowing smile that sent her temperature climbing.
That night they were faced with the awkward question of sleeping arrangements. The villa had five bedrooms, but Alec wanted to be near her at night for the sake of her security. He was certainly taking his self-appointed role as her bodyguard seriously.
They resigned themselves without enthusiasm to two chambers across the hallway from each other—but then, peeking into the other bedrooms, they discovered the room with the summer bed.
“Oh, I forgot about this,” Alec murmured, leaning next to her in the doorway.
“What a strange contraption,” Becky remarked, studying it.
A silk canopy arched over the four tall bedposts, but instead of one large mattress beneath it, the bedstead was divided into two single beds, with an empty space about a foot wide separating them. This design allowed air to circulate better between the sleepers, thus keeping them cooler during hot summer nights. She supposed it was mostly intended for married couples who had gone past the first blush of passion to practicality.
Alec and she looked at it, then at each other.
With that, their choice of sleeping quarters was made. The summer bed provided an ideal arrangement for two people who desired close contact but were resolved to withstand the temptations of the flesh. At least in theory.
That night they stayed awake into the wee hours, talking, whispering, laughing in the darkness like children allowed the delicious treat of staying overnight at a favorite friend’s house. Becky told him all about Talbot Old Hall, its priest-hole, minstrel’s gallery, and resident ghost. She watched him pull his shirt off over his head in the heat, ball it up, and toss it onto the chair; as Alec reclined again on his too distant half of the summer bed, she tried not to gawk too much at his beautiful body, silvered by moonlight.
Instead, she went on to tell him of her village, describing each of the eight buildings on the square and most of the leading residents; Sam, the blacksmith; the Widow Harking, who ran the dame school; Mr. Bowers, who owned the local inn; and, of course, that sly pair, Sally the red-haired tavern wench, and Daisy, the yellow-haired milkmaid.
“Well, I should very much like to meet them,” he drawled.
“Alexander, behave! That’s it. I’m going to sleep.” She shut her eyes determinedly, but she still kept smiling.
“Good night, Becky,” Alec finally murmured, reaching across the space between them to touch her hand.
“Abby,” she corrected in a whisper, opening her eyes again slowly to gaze at him.
“Abby,” he conceded in a lazy tone. “Are you tired?”
“Mm.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Go to sleep.”
“I’ll try.”
Lying on her side, holding hands across the empty space between them, she gazed at him, and then smiled in the indigo shadows, feeling closer to hi
m in that moment that she had to anyone in years. “Sweet dreams, lucky,” she answered softly, having dubbed him thus, for it was only fair that he should get a nickname, too.
“Don’t I get a kiss good night?” he whispered.
Her smile widened. “Do you really think it wise?”
“Wise, cherie, was never my specialty.” He withdrew his hand from hers with a light parting squeeze. “Go to sleep.”
Smiling blissfully, Becky let her heavy eyelids close and tried to. She was weary, true, her senses lulled by the music of the ocean pouring in through the open windows and the wonderful security of the strong man lying near her with a sword and pistol by his side; but after a moment or two the temptation was too great.
He looked over at her in the darkness as she rose and went to him, crossing the gap between them. In the next heartbeat she was in his arms. He pulled her atop him, her loose linen shift hitched up around her knees as she knelt astride him on all fours, kissing him with wild and tender passion.
Her hair swung down around him like a dark veil to shield their budding love from the many dangers of the harsh and jaded world. Alec’s hands moved up and down her back, caressing her. He coaxed her tongue into his mouth; Becky tasted him with a longing sigh. As she stroked his broad shoulders, the splendor of his velvety smooth skin beguiled her lower.
She ended their kiss, lipped his perfect nose in naughty affection, and then eased downward over his body, covering his muscular chest in kisses. He petted her head, enjoying it. She skimmed her lips dreamily along the flowing lines and ridges of his sculpted belly. God, he really was outrageously well made. Alec played with her hair, the subtle pressure of his hands willing her to go lower still.
Dared she? Her heart pounded eagerly at the bold thought of returning the luscious favor that he had given her at Knight House. She wanted to, but she didn’t know how. On the other hand, when she considered how insistent he had been about making her surrender to him, she knew she had to try. She had to show him that it was safe for him to lie back with her and simply receive pleasure, too.
His stomach was flat, but as she flirted with his navel, there was no escaping the demanding presence of his big, burgeoning hardness. It pulsated beside her cheek—and then throbbed beneath her hand. She heard Alec’s breathing deepen as she caressed it through his thin, linen drawers.
Despite some kittenish fumbling, she managed to untie the drawstring. She reached tenderly inside and took him in her hand.
He let out a soft gasp. She felt him surge from hard and hot to steel rigidity as she wrapped her hand around his thick shaft. Then she placed a few exploratory kisses on the round, smooth head of his cock. The response that this elicited inflamed her. She suddenly knew what he wanted; she was all too happy to give. Parting her lips, she took him into her mouth.
His low, scratchy moan of bliss confirmed her theory about what to do; from there, her education quickened apace. After a few minutes of her kissing and fondling him, Alec moved up against the headboard and brushed her hair aside, avidly watching her pleasure him. “Ah, that’s good, Becky. That’s so good, little girl.”
He stopped her only long enough to undress her, pulling her sheer white chemise off over her head. She went back at once to sucking his cock, quite obsessed with it.
“Come here,” he ordered in a husky voice.
She licked her lips and let him tug her back up to him. He lay down flat on the bed again, turned her body until she was facing toward his feet, her knees planted in the mattress astraddle his face. His warm, smooth hands caressed the naked curves of her buttocks, then he guided her mouth back down again to his waiting erection.
“Hmm,” Becky murmured, grasping him from this new angle.
She had barely begun paying homage once more to his wonderful body when his wet hungry kiss between her thighs made her nigh choke on the big, straining cock in her mouth; she then grasped the point of this exotic arrangement. Her eyes closed tightly. Ahh. Wicked, wonderful man.
He curled his hands around her thighs, gently pulling her deeper into his mouth. Becky could hardly bear it. How was she supposed to concentrate on what she had set out to do? She tried to protest, but he stopped her. This was something she had wanted to do just for him, but Alec wouldn’t have it. No, he was Alec Knight, she thought with a certain degree of fond amusement, and no doubt deemed it a point of honor that any woman who got into bed with him must orgasm explosively. Preferably more than once.
And so they pleasured each other simultaneously.
Becky was in awe of his control. His skillful ministrations left her barely coherent, forgetful of what she had traveled south to do in the first place. Her hand clung weakly to his throbbing member, but her eyes were closed, her attention helplessly captivated by the way his clever tongue laved her. So generous.
Already aroused from exploring him, it only took minutes for Alec to bring her to climax. Becky whimpered and shuddered with release, arching her back. She could feel Alec’s delight in her surrender. At last, the lusty fog in her head cleared a bit. She withdrew, moving back to her original position. Alec kissed her cheek and gave her a sultry, knowing smile.
He set her gently on the floor and moved to the edge of the bed, offering himself to her, his muscled legs sprawled loosely. Becky lowered herself onto her knees between them.
Cupping her nape, Alec leaned down and kissed her softly before she resumed.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, staring into her eyes. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”
“Oh, Alec.” She slipped her arm around his lean waist and tilted her head back to kiss him again, but their heaving passion soon overshadowed the moment’s tenderness.
She curled her hand around him once more; and then she took him deeply into her mouth, nearly into her throat, stroking him with both hands and giving him her all. It did not take long to realize that her lover’s awesome self-control also made it difficult for him to let go. Cast as audience instead of performer, the actor’s son seemed to find his role as recipient a bit more threatening. She was beginning to understand that giving pleasure was a means of wielding power.
Becky moved slowly, patiently, not rushing him; she wanted his surrender, and she was willing to work for it.
“You’re such an angel,” he moaned, sinking back a bit to brace one hand behind him on the bed. The other remained tangled in her hair. She redoubled her efforts, feeling his control begin to fray at last. His lean hips bucked as his grip tightened ruthlessly on her hair. “Oh, Becky, don’t stop, I’m going to come.”
Her reply was little more than a lusty gurgle full of hearty assent. Her lips were chafed, her jaw aching. He was panting, thrusting into her mouth, the hot steel of him battering her tongue.
He tried to withdraw at the last second, but she held him fast, clasping his hip possessively. With a harsh groan, fairly a scream of pleasure, he suddenly spilled his seed down her throat, pressing desperately into her mouth. She drank it down wildly in one fiery gulp, reveling in the sharp, salty taste of him. He moaned, pulsating in her mouth again and again, though he had nothing left.
She was shaking, and so was Alec.
She felt his fingers go lax, all coiled in her tresses. He quivered violently when she finally relinquished his still-hard member with the slow lick of her aching lips.
“Oh, Becky,” he panted. “That was quite a kiss good night.” He fell back onto the mattress with a dazed sigh. “Un-bloody-believable.”
She rose, glowing with her adoration of him. “I’d say you needed it.”
He smiled, looking ravished—hair tousled, cheeks flushed. “Get over here, you.”
“Who, me?” she murmured coyly as he captured her wrist and pulled her down beside him.
“Well, you have to marry me now, I’m afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because, obviously, I’m going to need that for the rest of my natural life.”
“Good reason,” she dr
awled, giving him an arch look askance.
He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, locking his fingers so she couldn’t escape. “Stay,” he commanded, and kissed her on the nose.
She gazed tenderly at him for a long moment. “I could never imagine doing these things with anyone else but you, Alec.”
“Then don’t.”
She kissed his cheek. Alec fairly purred with contentment as he held her, drowsing. Ten minutes passed, perhaps fifteen.
She was still mulling over his words and didn’t realize at first that he was already half asleep when she resumed the conversation where it had left off.
“I could promise that easily, if a similar promise were made to me, in return.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, sorry, were you sleeping, darling?”
“No, what?” he mumbled, shifting a little and pulling the sheet over both of them. “What is it, sugarplum?”
She smiled at the pet name. “I just meant to say that . . . I could promise not to do these things with anyone else, ever, if somebody were to make the same sort of promise to me.”
“Oh,” he murmured noncommittally. “I . . . thought that’s what you said.” He let out a large yawn.
Becky just looked at him. Hardly the answer she had hoped for. Well, she would have to be naive to be surprised. A man did not become so expert in the erotic arts without years of practice. Aye, he had probably done this with more women than there were in all of Buckley-on-the-Heath. The realization left her a bit peeved, but even more than that, it made her wonder about the effects such intemperance might have had on his heart. Could he even love, or had he grown too jaded?
She refused to believe the latter. Still, it hurt to see that, even now, after what they had just done, he couldn’t really let his guard down.
Lowering her gaze to hide her disappointment, Becky pulled away and got up, slipping her chemise back on over her head. Then she watched Alec retying the drawstring of his loose linen drawers.
“Well, good night, then,” she said.
“Wait, where are you going?” He captured a handful of her shift’s white muslin to detain her.
