by Win Hollows
She looked away, and Max watched her take deep breaths for a full half-minute before answering. “I wanted out,” she confessed, her head still turned to the side as if she could only keep talking if she couldn’t see him there beside her. “There were clear hints that the arrangement of my head atop my neck was dependent on the success of finding the Damarek before the British. Before you,” she added.
Her words rumbled uneasily inside him.
“When it became clear I would not be the winner of this particular episode, I made them believe I was dead before they could do it themselves.”
It had been a bold strategy in a game without many options left to her. “And why come to London? You could have gone anywhere—Bangladesh, America, Caracas. Somewhere they’d never find you.”
Elorie huffed and turned back to him. “This was a terrible idea.”
“You suggested it,” he reminded her.
“I know! Clearly, I don’t make the best decisions around you. You shouldn’t have taken advantage of my altered state.”
Max laughed and ran his fingertip along the outside of her ear. “Me taking advantage of you? I believe your request for payment in kisses makes you the seducer and I the seducee. It’s something a first-class rake would do to an innocent lass. Poor me. I had no idea of your lascivious intentions.”
She shivered at his touch, but snorted. “Seducee? I don’t think that’s a word. And we both know that’s not true.”
“Are you admitting I have an effect on you then?” He dropped his voice. “Are you saying you can be seduced by me?”
Her chin went up. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. You kiss well enough, but I don’t want anything else. I’ve never indicated otherwise.”
He threw back his head and let loose a laugh. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
She gave a jaunty smile. “Thank you.”
He shook his head and moved closer, letting his chest press against the swells of her breasts. “I can prove you want more than just a few kisses.”
Max felt her heartbeats increase their tempo as she gulped. “You can’t if it’s not true,” she said weakly.
Unrelenting, Max began to trail one hand up the inside of her dress. He moved a knuckle back and forth underneath the crook of her knee, eliciting a hitch in her breath. Then he moved higher, skimming along the skin that had been left scandalously bare for the purpose of her Greek costume. Her inner thigh was soft as crème mousse and, he imagined, just as sweet. As he reached the meeting of her legs, Elorie’s breathing increased, and she stayed his hand with her own over her dress.
“You don’t want this?”
“It’s— It’s not that.” Her liquid eyes looked up into his with wide-eyed alarm.
“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” he told her. “You can trust me.”
He watched her throat work. “Perhaps we should go back to the party now.”
Max realized what he saw in her face was indeed raw fear. He stopped moving his fingers in slow circles on her leg. Taking in the shaking of her hand and the dryness of her lips, he cursed himself for not seeing it immediately. Had she been forced to engage in sexual favors for information in the past or been ill-used by someone she had trusted as a partner?
Whatever it was, she wouldn’t experience any further terror at his hands. “What if you tell me what you want? Would that be all right?”
She paused and cocked her head as if it had never occurred to her that it could work that way. He could see the wheels turning, and eventually, she nodded.
Mac dipped his head in return. “You just tell me what to do, and we’ll explore together.”
Her tentative smile made his heart soar. Who was this creature that was both Viper and vixen, roaring lion and timid mouse? He would never figure her out, it seemed.
She slowly removed her hand from his and cleared her throat. “I’d… I’d like you to do what you were doing before.”
“The circles?” Max clarified.
She nodded. “But … just over m-my drawers.”
Her words tightened the sack hanging beneath his hard member as he moved to do her bidding. His fingertips found the fine cotton of her drawers and, using the gentlest of touches, began to move in lazy circles over her mound.
She sighed and closed her eyes, her dark eyelashes fluttering on the curve of her cheek.
He could watch her all day like this, Max thought, growing harder at the sight of her parted lips. She began to make small sounds of desire, mewls and pleads as Max continued to let his fingers roam over her. Dampness started to make its way through the material of her drawers in a small spot, and Max longed to see the results of his ministrations. Pulling her dress gently upward, he gathered its white folds to rest over her opposite leg so he could look at her. She didn’t protest or even open her eyes, gone as she was on his touch.
Max looked down at her spread legs and at the delicate white of her undergarments, focusing his gaze on the growing circle of wetness in the very center. He felt his own breathing become labored at the sight of her becoming so slick and ready for him.
“Can you… Can you…” She struggled, putting a hand on his forearm.
“Can I what?” he asked, hoping she wouldn’t tell him to stop.
“I want you to touch me … in a certain place.” She looked up at him.
Max swallowed, unsure if his brain even worked enough to answer her. “Where?” he asked hoarsely, stopping the movement of his fingers. “Tell me where to go.”
“Underneath,” she whispered.
He almost came in his breeches right then and there, which made no sense at all. He had been with women who required no tutelage and who had let him do much, much more than Elorie was allowing at the moment. Yet her small request was somehow more erotic than any act he’d ever engaged in before.
Nimbly reaching under the edge of the fine-spun linen, he carefully drew it to the side so he could access the pink lips that now shined with moisture. He ran his longest fingertip along her seam, reveling in the feel of her silky wet flesh. “Here?”
Her breathing was fast and shallow. “Higher.”
Max obeyed while trying not to notice how much blood had been diverted from the rest of his body to his own bulging staff. Gliding upward, he reached the edge of her smooth lips and kept going. When he hadn’t gone more than half an inch, she suddenly arched with an indrawn breath.
“Ah. Is that where you want me then?” he murmured, smiling at her nubile movements.
“Yes,” she bit out.
Her swollen tissues padded his fingertip as he pursued tight circles over the tiny nub that gave her pleasure.
“Max,” she begged.
“Yes, love?”
“Please.” Her hips rose as she sought more pressure from him while her hands grabbed fistfuls of hay on either side.
“Tell me what you want,” he teased, knowing already what she wanted from him.
“I … I don’t know,” she ground out, her brow furrowed in consternation.
Struggling to maintain his calm in the face of her passion, Max asked, “Would you like a suggestion?”
She nodded, her cheeks high with color as she looked at him with glazed eyes.
“I would suggest…” He let it draw out, letting her worry her bottom lip as her desperation grew. “Letting me put my finger inside you while I touch you until you come.”
He could tell she wasn’t sure from the way she glanced away for a split second, but desire finally won out. “Yes.”
The simple word pushed triumph through his veins as he increased the pressure on her sweet little bean while sliding his middle finger between the slick folds of her labia. Elorie gasped and let her head fall back, exposing her gracefully arched neck as he slid in further. Her softness tightened around his finger at the invasion, working around it with pulsing heat.
“Good?” he asked her, brushing back a hair from her damp temple with his other hand.
“Better than good,” she breathed.
Max smiled, drawing out his finger only to push it back in. Elorie groaned, curling her toes into the heeled sandals she wore. Her shapely legs trembled as he thrust into her core again and again, creating a rhythm that he increased every few strokes. Elorie’s cries grew higher in pitch, the faint flush between her breasts spreading up to her neck. Crests of color highlighted her cheeks more intensely, and her lips hung open as she took in small gasps of air. He could tell she was getting close to her release and wanted to see every nuance of her body’s reaction.
Taking some of the wetness from between her nether lips, he spread it over her nub to lubricate the area. He changed the angle of his finger to better move over her most sensitive spot and began to rub it in tandem with the finger he drove into her repeatedly.
“Oh.” Elorie’s eyes flew open and then flickered shut again as she thrashed under his hands in fevered abandon.
He felt when the first wave crashed over her, the passage gripping his finger with decadent pulses. Her hips arched upward while her entire body shuddered with the force of the sensations cascading through her. Eyes shut with lips parted in uncontrolled gasps as she undulated, she looked like a creature borne of men’s deepest fantasies, a golden angel held captive by the chains of pleasure.
Max knew a depth of satisfaction he’d never known before, even as he ached with unfulfilled desire. She was his at this moment—not France’s or any other man’s—his. Bringing her to complete surrender at his hands was more than he had ever dared hope for with her.
He never wanted to let her go. Ever.
The thought came unbidden, tendrils of alarm cocooning it as it rooted down into his brain. She could no more belong to him than the wind that whipped across the tower walkway of Cairdygyn Hold. Yet he wanted her all the same.
Elorie slowly opened her eyes again as the tremors faded, coming to rest on him as he withdrew his hand from her. Her face was open and trusting in the aftermath of wonderment, and she seemed a different person altogether. Or perhaps this was really Elorie Lavoie devoid of all masks. Not wanting to say anything to break the spell, Max simply stared at her features, waiting.
She licked her lips and cleared her throat. “That was…”
Max raised a brow.
Her flush deepened, if that was possible. “You did say I’d enjoy the things that came from your lips.” She smiled shyly. “You were right.”
That forced a burst of laughter from him. “That wasn’t just a kiss, although perhaps next time I’ll see if I can make you come apart with only my mouth.”
Her eyes widened as she likely thought about the ramifications of his statement. “Oh.”
“Yes, Oh,” he replied, chuckling.
He would have thought the Viper would be all seduction and slippery charm, but he found he liked this side of her as well, the one that could be surprised by his intimacies. The more he learned of her, he realized, the less he knew her.
After plucking the hay from their hair and clothes, they agreed to slip back into the ballroom from separate entrances, Max promising to find her for the next waltz. Even though he hadn’t begun to satisfy his own needs and wouldn’t be able to this night, he couldn’t stay away from her.
He supposed he should be thankful that at least there were no cupid’s arrows to fear at this themed event. The only thing he had need to fear was his growing obsession with the one woman who would be his downfall if he was not careful.
****
Elorie tried for the twelfth time to wipe the smile from her face and succeeded for a whole three seconds as she walked along the garden path back toward the terrace doors. It really was a lovely garden. Lovely stars, lovely breeze on her heated body. Lovely everything.
Max was all the things she shouldn’t want. She knew that, and yet her entire existence had somehow come to shape itself around him—around the next time she would see him and what he would think about every little thing that crossed her mind. The way he—
White-hot pain sliced through her side, blowing her vision into fragments.
Elorie fell to the graveled path in shock. Now on her hands and knees, her breath came in shallow drags as her torso radiated with waves of lancing agony. Bringing a pebble-embedded hand to the area just below her ribs, she felt the thick shaft of a sharpened wooden bolt protruding from her flesh. Her hand came away wet with warm blood that shined in the dark.
Barely able to think through the blinding pain that warped her thoughts, she looked around for the source of the blow, knowing she had but seconds to react.
“Don’t worry,” a man’s voice came out from the bushes just a few feet away. Gravel crunched as he approached. “I didn’t aim for anything vital.”
Elorie looked up to see a set of boots coming closer. Looking higher, she noted the strong lines of his body and face as she brought his visage into focus.
Ruben.
“Hello, Viper.” He smirked, crossing his arms as he pinned a crossbow to his side with one bicep. He looked down at her prostrate form. “So nice to see you among the living.” He cocked his head while his eyes raked her heaving body. “At least for now.”
She looked down at the ground again, trying to muster the wherewithal to think clearly. Ruben was here. He had a crossbow, of all things. Dramatic, even for him. He was no doubt enjoying her struggle as he watched her try to rise above the pain. There was a ballroom full of people less than a hundred yards away, but no one was out in this part of the unlit gardens. No help would be forthcoming. Which was why, she realized, he had used a crossbow—no loud noises to bring attention like a gun would have.
She needed to know what his endgame was before she made a move against him. Unfortunately, she had been lying when she’d said her arrows were more than ornamental, and the flimsy painted sticks wouldn’t be of much help to her. Why she had thought it a good idea to begin going about without her darts, she would never know.
“So what now?” she panted, looking up to meet his eyes as she held her side. Blood now soaked her white dress and dripped down onto the rocks in plinking little splashes.
“Now I bring you back to the Hand, and they will reward me greatly,” he explained in a pleasant tone while his silvery eyes observed her with detached assessment.
“Why would they care?” Elorie ground out.
He shook his head. “No one leaves.”
The simple statement was true, she knew well. If nothing else, they would have bet on the possibility that she had gone rogue and was planning to sell the Damarek to the highest bidder once she had tracked it down herself.
“How did you know? How did you find me?”
Ruben smiled. “Your little monkey. What was his name? I followed you when you went to have him shipped from Edinburgh. The address was right on the outside of the crate.”
Stupid. Stupid mistake. Numbness spread into her limbs and torso, and she knew she didn’t have long before blood loss consumed her consciousness. Already, spots of light danced in front of her eyes. “Why haven’t you just killed me?”
He crouched down to look her in the eyes and gently took off her domino mask. “The Paris lead was false, but you knew that already. The Hand wants to know what you know.” His eyes gleamed. “And killing you would deprive me of all the fun on the journey to Le Havre. We will have good times, pet.”
Elorie sucked in a wheezing breath, the smell of his cologne and the tanginess of her own blood causing her stomach to protest. If he took her from this place…
Her mouth was dry from the rapid breaths she took, but that was the least of her problems. She could feel herself starting to slip away, a tingling grayness overtaking her fuzzy thoughts.
“Come along then.” Ruben reached for her but froze as a sound broke in the silence.
Whispers, low chuckles, and the snap of a branch signaled the approach of at least two people, probably out for a tryst the same as Elorie had been just a little while before. Ruben stood, liste
ning. The sounds grew closer, and suddenly, a man and woman came stumbling around the corner of a hedge up ahead. Clearly tipsy and intent on each other as they clumsily held the other up, it took them a moment to see Elorie and Ruben.
The woman gasped, and the man squinted. “What’s this about? What’s going on here?”
Ruben swiftly reached down for her, but Elorie was ready. As he threw her over his shoulder, she pulled the short bolt out from her side with a cry and buried it in his upper back with a vicious thrust.
He roared and dropped her, twisting to reach the shaft she had driven into him.
Elorie landed hard on the ground, what breath and strength she had left driven from her. She heard the woman scream, and the man was shouting something. As she felt her life slipping out of her, relief overtook the frantic thoughts that were becoming dim. Ruben was fleeing, his form hazy as it became smaller and disappeared into the darkness.
Evidently, the screams and shouts had brought more people, and she could only lie without moving as hands began to touch her.
“Lady Crescenfort? Is that you?” a familiar voice floated out to reach her.
Elorie opened her eyes to see a small face surrounded by dark hair. She knew that face…
“Don’t…” Elorie whispered. “Don’t let them see.”
Ivy, the Marchioness of Blackbourne, nodded grimly before turning her head. “Ash, get them back. Give me your jacket to cover her.” A man with Max’s face suddenly loomed over her as he whipped his jacket from around his broad shoulders. “We need—”
“Ellie? Ellie!” a frantic voice joined the mix, and then there was another face that belonged to Max floating amidst the gray that blurred her vision.
“Two,” she remarked, trying to reach up to sort them out.
“I’ve got you,” one of them said, taking her hand.
It was the last thing she heard as she sighed and let the darkness in.
Chapter Thirteen
Tink tink tink.
