Desire n-3

by Nicole Jordan

  The urge to melt Brynn’s coldness, to destroy her aloofness, surged through him. How satisfying it would be to draw her into his arms, push up her skirts, and thrust deep inside her, giving her pleasure while taking his own…

  Swearing at himself, Lucian forced his mind away from the thought. Passion could succeed in turning Brynn’s ice to fire, at least momentarily, but it would do nothing to help him overcome his dangerous attraction to her.

  Determined to regain his control, Lucian turned to gaze out the carriage window, his face as coldly aloof as Brynn’s own.

  Brynn took a steadying breath as she paused at the door to Lucian’s bedchamber. When they arrived home, he had repaired to his rooms to change his attire for the evening. She’d waited several moments, debating what to do. Finally she pulled the pins from her hair, then crossed through her sitting room into his. But she hesitated as she reached for the door handle.

  Lucian claimed not to believe in the curse, but she could prove to him that it was very real. Yet did she dare risk the danger of a demonstration? If she purposely sought to arouse him, there might be no controlling the outcome.

  Still, the incident on the archery range this afternoon had only bolstered her belief in the Gypsy’s spell. Her behavior had actually been quite modest, not in the least alluring, certainly not compared to Raven’s charming demeanor. But the two gentlemen hadn’t fought over her friend, Brynn reminded herself. Only her. She was a fool to have hoped she could simply ignore the curse’s power.

  She needed to convince Lucian of its potency, though. She had to show him that he was just as vulnerable as any other man-more so, in fact, because of his intimate conjugal demands. She had to make him understand the danger so he would help her avert the dire consequences.

  Knowing it was better not to allow time for her courage to wane, Brynn opened the door and stepped inside his bedchamber. She had never been in her husband’s room before. It was decorated with masculine elegance in rich dark colors of forest green and gold. A massive bed dominated the room. Her gaze was drawn to it, then skittered away to find Lucian at the washstand, toweling his face dry.

  Brynn came up short. He was shirtless. The sight of his sleekly muscled torso made her breath catch in her throat.

  He hadn’t heard her enter, fortunately, which gave her time to recover her composure. She shut the door softly behind her.

  Lucian looked up then and froze, surprise flickering in his blue eyes before he quickly masked his expression.

  “Have you lost your way?” he asked coolly.

  “No. I need help with the buttons on the back of my gown. Will you do me the kindness?”

  Lucian eyed her with suspicion. “Why don’t you call your maid?”

  “I don’t want to trouble her.”

  “But you want to trouble me? ”

  She merely smiled, a slow, sultry smile that made his features visibly harden. “Do you mind?”

  His gaze raked her, taking in the sight of her hair loose and falling around her shoulders. Without answering, he crossed to her. When Brynn gave him her back, he pushed her hair out of the way almost roughly.

  At his evident impatience, Brynn couldn’t help but feel a measure of satisfaction, but she held her tongue as he unfastened the buttons in grim silence.

  “Thank you,” she said when he was done, keeping her voice low and husky.

  She turned to face him. He was so close, she could feel the heat of his body. He felt the same heat, she knew. The same taut sexual awareness. She could see it in his eyes that were glittering like sapphires.

  “What game are you playing, Brynn?”

  “No game. I am simply proving a point.”

  “And what point is that?”

  “That the curse is extraordinarily potent. I did not purposefully try to arouse those gentlemen this afternoon. If I had wanted to, I would have behaved far differently.”

  “Like you’re behaving now?”

  “Yes.”

  Holding his gaze, she bit her lower lip provocatively and raised her hand to the neckline of her gown.

  Lucian went rigid as she drew the silk fabric down to expose the lush swell of her breasts beneath her chemise. She meant to undress in front of him, he realized, and deliberately incite him. He felt his loins tighten with a savage ache.

  “That is far enough,” he said tightly, determined not to respond.

  “I don’t think so.”

  She didn’t stop with the bodice of her gown. She pulled her chemise down, freeing her exquisite breasts, high and firm with rose-hued nipples. His mouth went dry at the thought of tasting them.

  “Do you truly think you can resist me?” she asked, her husky voice wicked and tempting.

  He sucked in a harsh breath. He damned well should resist her. A man could grow addicted to a body like Brynn’s and forget everything else that mattered. Already he wanted her with a fierceness, a longing that stunned him.

  “You are playing with fire,” he warned, his voice thick with desire.

  “Perhaps. But I suspect you are the one who will be burned.”

  He would be burned, he had no doubt. Her hair was an abundance of pure flame, flowing around her ivory shoulders and naked breasts with shimmering life. And yet even knowing the danger, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her.

  “Take care, Lucian-”

  She never finished her sentence. His hungry mouth swallowed her words as his arms crushed her to him.

  He kissed her fiercely, anger and arousal making his blood surge hot. She tasted like fire. Flame seared him as he thrust his tongue deeper into her mouth, while savage possessiveness burned inside him.

  He felt her involuntary response. She had gone rigid at first, but suddenly Brynn opened to him, her lips parting to accept his thrusting tongue. His hardened shaft cramped beneath his breeches with primal need.

  He groaned against her mouth, the sound thick and raw. He wanted more of her, needed more…

  His hands grasping her shoulders, he bent to her breast, capturing a taut nipple. She arched instinctively, pushing herself against his hot mouth. When he drew hungrily upon the peak, sucking hard, her hands clutched in his hair.

  He heard her hoarse breath through a haze of passion. “Don’t you see?” she gasped. “You can’t stop yourself…”

  He jerked backward. With a fierce effort at control, Lucian tore himself away. He stood staring at her, drawing in deep gulps of air, passion making him shake.

  The struggle was clear on his chiseled face, Brynn realized, feeling clashing emotions of triumph and despair. His eyes glittered with arousal and something darker, a primal lust that was almost savage.

  Reaching for her bodice with trembling hands, she covered her naked breasts, which were still heaving at his explosive kiss.

  “Do you see now, Lucian?” she asked softly, praying the lesson had sunk in. “You can’t escape the power of the curse. You won’t be able to resist me unless we keep our distance.”

  His fists clenched. “I think you underestimate my willpower. I won’t surrender to your spell, siren. I’ll prove to you the curse isn’t real. I won’t touch you again.”

  It was precisely the response she had been hoping for-for Lucian to determinedly fight her allure. So why did she suddenly feel such a loss?

  Moreover, his newfound resolve created a fresh dilemma. Brynn forced herself to smile tauntingly while her eyes widened with skepticism. “Does that mean you won’t make love to me any longer? If so, then how can I fulfill my wifely duty and conceive a child?”

  Smoldering silence met her question, while his virile face hardened.

  Brynn took a steadying breath. “That is what you want, is it not? A child? Well, I’ve begun to want the same thing. You promised that when I conceive an heir, I no longer must endure your carnal attentions. So the sooner I comply, the sooner we can be free of each other. I trust after this, however, when you do visit my bed, you’ll make an exerted attempt to control your lustf
ul urges.”

  Having delivered that blow, she turned and forced herself to walk regally from the room.

  Alone, Lucian stood shaking as the vestiges of passion began draining from his body. What in hell’s name had come over him? He had been wild to have her. If she hadn’t taunted him about his lack of control, he would have stripped her naked and taken her right then, ravishing her without any thought to tenderness.

  He could have raped her, his hunger had been that raw, that explosive.

  Lucian clenched his teeth, willing his muscles to unlock, willing the fiery ache in his groin to dissipate. He had never been so powerless, so mindlessly out of control.

  He swore a vivid oath. And what of next time? If he touched her, would he be unable to resist the flame-haired, green-eyed witch who was his wife?

  Chapter Ten

  She dreamed of Lucian again. His tongue was on her, gently plying her sex between her thighs, softly licking, arousing, savoring. His tenderness was exquisite.

  She arched against the pleasure, whimpering at the sharp sensation that rippled through her. His caresses brought her to the edge of explosion, yet he drew back, leaving her unfulfilled, aching with excitement.

  “Lucian… please…” She wanted them joined, yearned for his possession.

  He understood her craving.

  His kisses moved upward, his breath searing on her naked skin… her belly, her breasts, the curve of her throat. Her body shuddered in welcome as he covered her. His swollen hardness slid into her yielding, wet flesh, deeply penetrating… but then he held himself still.

  With unbearable sweetness, his lips brushed softly over her face, dredging a sigh of joy from deep in her throat. When he smiled down at her, his poignant tenderness made her want to weep. Helpless with desire, she molded herself to him, heat and desperate need welling up in her.

  Then he began to move inside her, a rhythm that was ancient, mindless, elemental. Her longing built as he loved her, blossoming to a sweet anguish that made her shake, until with one final thrust he unleashed a storm of fire and she cried out at the piercing ecstasy…

  Brynn stirred awake, her body throbbing with need in the darkness. Beside her the bed was empty. She was alone.

  She had only been dreaming. Lucian wasn’t with her, arousing her with his soul-stirring caresses. She had driven him away with her coldness.

  She reached up and touched her face, surprised to find it wet with tears. In her dreams she had found the tenderness she craved from Lucian, the warmth, the joy.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Brynn clutched a pillow to her breasts, remembering her dream and her desperate longing to cherish him.

  She couldn’t allow herself such indulgence, though. She might deplore the cold reserve between them, but she knew it could be no other way.

  Lucian didn’t visit her bed that night, or at any time during the following week-a reprieve for which Brynn told herself she was grateful. His avoidance, however, only renewed her sense of loneliness.

  Her strained relationship with her husband wasn’t her sole cause of despondency, either. Eager to prevent a recurrence of the recent contretemps with her gentlemen admirers, Brynn deliberately cut back on her social engagements. When she did go out, she was careful to keep a crowd of female friends around her, and she refused to speak to Pickering and Hogarth altogether.

  Her efforts only made her feel more isolated. Yet she found herself experiencing a strange melancholy that couldn’t be attributed simply to loneliness. Her courses came and went, which meant she hadn’t conceived, which meant the unsettled state of her marriage would continue. Even though Lucian was avoiding her bed at the moment, that would have to change.

  At least her loneliness briefly abated toward the end of her first month as a countess when Grayson paid her a visit on his return from Harrow.

  So glad was Brynn to see him that she flew down the stairs and practically launched herself at Gray as he awaited her in the entrance hall.

  “Lord, don’t choke me, puss,” he said, laughing as he pried himself loose from her stranglehold on his neck.

  Realizing she was being observed by the butler and several footmen, Brynn took her brother’s hand and pulled him into the nearby salon, shutting the door behind them for privacy.

  “I hope you’ve brought me news of Theo. I’ve received scarcely a word from home since I left.”

  “Because we have all been busy trying to run the household. I never realized how much you contributed to making the place comfortable, Brynn.”

  She turned aside the compliment impatiently. “What of Theo?”

  “You’ll be pleased to know he is safely and happily ensconced at Harrow. I left him debating the efficacies of certain acids with one of his new masters.”

  “Happily? He truly seemed happy?”

  “Ecstatic.” Grayson’s gaze turned searching. “What of you, Brynn? Are you at all happy?”

  She shrugged, not wanting to discuss her marriage. “I never desired happiness. Now, please, tell me more about Theo.”

  She settled with Gray on the settee and interrogated him for half an hour over their youngest brother’s reaction to school and the details of his attendance, down to how many pairs of stockings he had packed. Finally satisfied, Brynn sat back and let Gray enjoy his tea, which the attentive butler had delivered some moments before.

  When eventually they got around to discussing Gray’s plans, he responded by looking oddly self-conscious. “I hoped I could wrangle an invitation to stay here, if Wycliff doesn’t object. I would rather not waste funds on taking rooms at an inn.”

  “But of course you must stay,” Brynn declared, adding in a defiant undervoice, “whether or not Wycliff objects.”

  She rang for the butler and made arrangements to have the ancient Caldwell carriage and horses stabled, then showed Gray to a guest bedchamber herself. Her relationship with the housekeeper, Mrs. Poole, was still strained, and she didn’t want the woman’s sour remarks to spoil her reunion with her brother.

  Intending to allow Grayson time to refresh himself and rest, Brynn suggested they meet for dinner at six. “It is unfashionably early for London, I know, but I prefer to keep country hours.”

  “Will Wycliff be joining us?” Gray asked with a studied casualness.

  “I doubt it,” Brynn replied. “I usually dine alone. Lucian doesn’t spend much time at home.”

  That brought her brother’s searching look again, but he didn’t comment directly on her marriage. Instead he asked her an odd question. “Brynn, what do you know about Wycliff’s work at the Foreign Office?”

  “Not much. We have never discussed it.”

  “I heard he is involved in national intelligence- spying, if you will.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Her eyebrows lifted in puzzlement. “Why do you ask?”

  Gray shrugged. “Just curious. I will see you at dinner, then.”

  “Very well.”

  Returning to her sitting room, Brynn read for a while, then changed for dinner and went in search of her brother. When she didn’t find him in his bedchamber or the drawing room, she extended her search to the lower floor. He wasn’t in the salon or dining room, either. When she finally found him, it was in the study, of all places. He was sitting at the desk, rummaging through one of the drawers.

  “Gray?”

  He gave a start and looked up, a guilty flush on his face.

  “What are you doing? That is Lucian’s desk.”

  “I… was looking for writing implements.”

  “You can find paper and pen in your room.”

  “Can I? I didn’t think to look there.”

  He reached farther into the drawer, then shut it and rose to his feet. Brynn stiffened when she saw him slip something into his pocket. She moved toward him, wondering if he thought she was blind. “What did you take, Gray?”

  His flush deepened. “Nothing important, really.”

  “Grayson Caldwell,” Brynn said, feeling as if sh
e were scolding her youngest brother when he misbehaved. “Let me see.”

  He hesitated a long moment before drawing the object from his pocket. “It’s nothing of significance.”

  Brynn caught a glimpse of a ring that bore the Wycliff seal. “Lucian’s seal ring?”

  “Yes. I merely wanted to borrow it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need his stamp on a letter.”

  “Why don’t you simply ask him to stamp it for you?”

  “Oh, certainly,” Gray replied with an edge of sarcasm. “I should present him with bald proof that I’m trafficking in contraband cargo. How do you think he would react, Brynn? He’s an official of the British government. Do you really think he would turn a blind eye if I were to divulge my illegal activities to him?”

  Brynn frowned. “Why are you still involved in illegal activities? You told me you would stop smuggling as soon as our debts were paid. The settlement Lucian gave you should have been more than sufficient…Wasn’t it?”

  “Not quite,” Grayson said, refusing to meet her gaze.

  She took a deep breath. “Gray, I won’t beg Lucian for money. It was bad enough that I sold myself to him in marriage. I refuse to become any more obliged to him-”

  “It wouldn’t matter if you did. Money cannot help me out of this difficulty.”

  She placed a hand on his sleeve, her eyes searching his face. “Gray, what is wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong. I simply need Wycliff’s seal on a letter of authorization to ship a load of brandy. It will allow me to elude the revenuers if I am caught.”

  “But why must you even take the risk? Can’t you just stop smuggling?”

  “I do intend to stop, Brynn. Very soon. But I still have obligations. I cannot quit until I make one final shipment. This will be my last smuggling venture, I swear, but it will be more dangerous than most.”

  The plea in his eyes took her aback. She had never seen her brother so troubled.

  Disturbed by his intensity, Brynn stared at him a long moment before finally shaking her head. “Gray… you cannot use his seal without permission. It wouldn’t be right. You must put it back.”