Leaving his snifter on the edge of the railing of the balcony, Luc walked the short distance to the gap between the two balconies. Ignoring the surge of heat in his groin at the sight of her, he asked, “Trouble sleeping?”
“Apparently so,” she muttered. Jerking her gaze away, she stared into the night, her thoughts scrambling.
“At least the storm has passed,” Luc said and cursed his dull tongue. She was lovely in the cloud-dappled moonlight, sable hair loose and tousled, drifting around her shoulders, the diaphanous wrapper rippling in the sea breeze. A sudden gust flattened the garment against her body, revealing every line, every curve of the dainty body that bedeviled him, and Luc’s mouth went dry. Hunger slammed through him and he could think of nothing but how much he wanted her.
“Yes, it has,” she replied. Against her will, she found herself drifting toward him. Opposite Luc, she halted, the gap and the railing around the balcony the only barrier separating them.
In the shifting moonlight they stared wordlessly at each other, neither one able to form a coherent word or thought. Almost a tangible presence, desire swirled in the air between them, Gillian aware that underneath his robe that he was naked; he just as aware that only the thinnest of garments prevented her from being as bare as she had been in his dream.
The memory of that dream, of her face flushed with desire, blotted out everything in Luc’s mind but the need to have her. Heedless of the danger, he bounded to the top of the railing and in one fluid movement leaped the distance that separated them.
Gillian had only a second to step back before he was there in front of her. The next instant, she was swept into his arms. His mouth came down hard and demanding on hers, and she trembled as she was crushed against that muscular form, her breasts flattened against his chest, her mouth invaded and conquered.
She had no thought of resistance, no thought of denying him. Her arms fastened around his neck, her body pressing closer to his, her tongue meeting and tangling with his. The insistent nudge of his rigid member thrilled her and helplessly she arched against him, aching to know him fully.
Luc’s hands dropped to her bottom, and cupping that firm flesh, he lifted and pulled her tighter to him. They swayed together, each movement an agony and a delight. His hands holding her pressed against him, his mouth devoured hers, his tongue thrusting urgently into hers, mimicking the motion of his hips.
This was no gentle seduction and Gillian reveled in it, reveled in the frantic movements of his body, the seeking exploration of his tongue. Already aroused by her dream, his touch was fire to tinder and she was aflame, her fingers tearing at the belt of his robe, the need to feel him inside of her overpowering.
Consumed by the same primitive prompting, Luc lifted her clothing, his hand sliding warmly up one leg until he found the damp heat between her thighs. He explored, his fingers burrowing through the springy mat of hair until he found her silken core. Teasing her, his knuckles brushed against that delicate opening, before slowly, deliberately thrusting a finger into the welcoming heat, her excited moan inciting him. He stroked deeper, harder, and she stiffened and cried low as she convulsed helplessly around his fingers.
The need to find his own satisfaction almost had him lowering her to the floor and fitting his body to hers, but a spark of sanity remained, and aware of their location, he dragged his hand away from her sweet center. Swinging her up into his arms, he carried her through the French doors into the privacy of her bedroom. Gillian made no protest, her kiss as hungry as his, and her tongue, an arrow of fire darting into his mouth, banished all thought but one from his mind: he must have her. More by luck than instinct he found the bed in the darkness and, dropping her, followed her down to the mattress.
Clothes were thrown off and in seconds warm, silky feminine flesh was sliding against hot, hair-roughened male skin. She was soft and willing in his embrace, arching up and inviting his caress, her fingers moving through his dark hair down to his shoulders and across his back to his tight backside.
Luc shuddered as she explored the curve and shape of his buttocks, and his mouth dropped to her breast, sucking her nipple. Nuzzling the generous breasts, he muttered, “You taste like peaches—ripe, summer peaches, warm and fragrant and oh, so very sweet.” His mouth fastened on her nipple and he bit down gently, sending a spear of pleasure soaring through her and her fingers dug into his buttocks.
“You like that, eh?” he murmured. “What else do you like, m’amie?” He shifted slightly, and his hand traveled down to the junction of her thighs. Deliberately, he parted the tight curls, and once again finding the damp silk, he thrust one then two fingers inside of her. The clenching of her body around his fingers and the rising of her hips gave him his answer. His voice thick, he said, “I like it, too. I like tasting you and feeling your readiness for me.”
Gripped by a passion she had never felt before, wild to have his body sunk deep within hers, Gillian’s hand closed around his thick shaft. “And you,” she managed. “You are as ready as I am.”
“More,” he growled and, in one fluid motion, rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Astride him, his hands on her hips, he slowly lowered her onto his member, groaning at the wet heat that met his invasion.
He was well endowed and Gillian had a momentary qualm at his size, but the hunger to have him, all of him, had her pushing down to meet his upward thrust. She gasped as her body stretched and accepted the broad length of him. Experimentally, she wiggled around, the feel of him buried within her exciting and arousing. Reveling in the sensation of having him beneath her, she slowly rocked, hardly moving, each shift of her body sending shocks of pleasure spiraling through her.
Luc bore her teasing movements as long as he could, and when he feared losing control, his hand closed around the back of her neck and he pulled her mouth down to his. Against her lips, he said, “Ride me, amante. Ride me hard or slow, but dear God! Ride me!”
A husky laugh was her reply, but to his relief, she rose above him and then sweetly slid back down onto his shaft. Her movements were still tantalizingly slow, teasing both of them, building the heat and tension between them.
Luc let her have her way, the pleasure of that tight, hot body locked around him almost more than he could bear, but he didn’t want it to end. Not yet. Her soft breasts swayed in front of him and he reared up and, capturing one in his mouth, suckled hungrily on the nipple. She gasped as the heat of his mouth and tongue on her nipples increased the pleasure curling through her, and she moved on him faster, rushing toward the edge. He fought against the demand to join her, and feeling her clench around him, feeling the shudder of release that racked her, he smiled tightly.
Dazed, Gillian slumped down onto his chest, aftershocks of the most powerful pleasure she could ever remember rippling through her. Never, she thought, astonished, not once had she experienced such voluptuous fulfillment with Charles.
Keeping their bodies locked together, Luc flipped her over onto her back, and coherent thought vanished when his mouth came down hard on hers. She was only conscious of him: his taste, his scent and the wondrous feel of his body on hers. He gripped her hips, and holding her to his liking, his big body drove into hers, forcing her higher and higher toward another crest. With each slide, each thrust of Luc’s body, the magic between them grew, and this time when she cried out and shattered around him, Luc joined her in the glory, his growl of satisfaction adding to the intensity of the moment for Gillian.
Luc kept their bodies merged, his lips moving lazily across hers, his warm body resting against hers. He’d had many women, enjoyed many women in his lifetime, but none had ever given him such primitive pleasure as he had just experienced in Gillian’s arms. Despite having just depleted himself in her, he was conscious of a stirring desire, a fierce prompting to hear again her cries of pleasure, and with her writhing beneath him, once more find that sweet oblivion.
Knowing he needed at least a few minutes to recover, regretfully he disengaged their bodies. B
ut not for long, he thought, conscious of desire stirring beneath the lethargy of utter satisfaction that left him momentarily boneless and sated. No, not for long, he promised, not for long. Lying on his back, he dragged her up beside him on the bed and bit down gently on her ear. “You’re a witch,” he muttered. “And I very much fear before this night is done, I must have you again.”
Delight hummed through her, and feeling more feminine and powerful than she ever had in her life, she wiggled next to him, her thigh flung over his hips, her lips tracing the hard line of his jaw. His frustrated groan pleased her.
Gillian amused herself, her fingers sliding through the curly mat of hair on his broad chest. He was so very different from Charles, she thought, bemused, his chest wider, more muscular and far hairier. She nearly purred as she explored, liking the feel of the coarse hair and the feel of the warm muscles beneath the hair. Finding his nipples, she plucked at them until they were hard buds. As the minutes passed, encouraged by his response, her hand slipped lower and she gasped when she found him hard and ready.
Luc turned in her hold and his mouth caught hers. His teeth worried her bottom lip and his hands closed on her buttocks, jerking her closer to him. “See what you have aroused, Madame?” he breathed against her lips. “And having done so, you must bear the consequences.”
This time there was not the frantic need to couple, and they made slow, lazy love to each other, exploring each other, their bodies moving together seamlessly, their mouths locked together. But in the end, blind desire dominated, and they moved together urgently, each desperate to find succor from the hunger that savaged them. Feeling the swell of ecstasy rising within her, Gillian tightened around him, pushing him over the edge. With one last, deep thrust, Luc took her with him and together they found the splendor.
Luc didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke, sunlight was streaming into the room. Gillian, one rosy-tipped breast pressed against his arm, lay by his side, and mesmerized, he stared down into her sleep-softened features. She has bewitched me, he admitted grimly. How else to explain his actions? His passion for her had compelled him to break the habits of a lifetime, to ignore the respect he had for Silas and to besmirch his own honor.
He rubbed his eyes and sighed. Propping himself up with a pair of pillows, his hands behind his head, he considered the prospect in front of him. It was going to be a long, difficult day, he decided, and his life was never going to be the same. His gaze dropped to Gillian. Nor was hers.
The opening of the bedroom door had him stiffening and he cursed. It was bad enough that he had seduced his friend’s niece, but to be found in her bed ... He closed his eyes. Christ!
“Gillian, my dear, aren’t you awake yet this morning?” asked Sophia, walking briskly into the bedroom. “Out of bed with you, sleepyhead. Don’t forget that we have a guest staying with us.”
Unaware of Sophia’s presence, Gillian woke and oblivious to the tall, very masculine body next to her, stretched luxuriously. Her eyes collided with Luc’s and with a squeak she sat up, explicit memories of last night flashing through her brain. She couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t been a willing participant in what had occurred between them, but things done in the dark of night look very different in the searing light of day, and she was filled with embarrassment and just a little appalled at her own actions. Jerking the blankets to cover her nakedness, she glared at him and hissed, “What are you still doing here?”
“What was that, dear?” asked Sophia, coming around the end of the bed.
Sophia halted as if having run into a stone wall, and her lips forming a round O, she stared at the pair in the bed.
Horrified, Gillian scrambled from the bed and searched frantically for her gown and wrapper. Finding the garments on the floor where they had been thrown, she scrambled into them.
Luc remained motionless on the bed, his hands still behind his head, his naked chest rising above the tangle of blankets. His face expressionless, he stared back at Sophia.
Sophia looked at him, and he flinched at the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.
“I’m going to marry her,” he growled, wincing at the defensive note in his voice. “I’ll speak to Silas this morning.”
Sophia nodded. “Yes, I expect that would be best.”
“What?” demanded Gillian, looking from one set face to the other. “What are you talking about?”
“Why, only that Mr. Joslyn will do the honorable thing and ask our uncle for your hand in marriage,” said Sophia calmly, having recovered her usual aplomb and, now that she’d had a moment to think about it, not entirely displeased with the turn of events. She smiled. “Uncle Silas will be delighted.”
“Are you mad?” Gillian asked, aghast. “I’m not marrying anyone.” She glanced at Luc, her heart pumping at the knee-weakening sight of that beautiful masculine chest and the intent expression in those azure eyes. Dragging her gaze away from him, she snapped, “And I’m certainly not marrying a gambler!”
Spying his borrowed robe on the floor, she picked it up and threw it at him. “For heaven’s sake, put something on.”
“Whether I am clothed or naked as the day I was born,” Luc said, “it doesn’t change anything: we will be married.”
Gillian’s chin lifted. “I am not,” she enunciated from between clenched teeth, “going to marry a man whose reputation at the gaming table has earned him the title of ‘Lucifer.’” Bitterly, she added, “I was married to a man who beggared me with his gambling habits. I do not intend to find myself in that position again.”
Taking the robe she’d thrown at him, he slipped it on and standing up, finished wrapping it around him and tying the belt at the waist. His face grim, he stalked over to her. In a cold voice, he said, “I was born a bastard and I swore that no child of mine would ever suffer that fate. It is unlikely that I planted a child in you last night, but I am unwilling to take the chance. We will marry.”
Gillian started, staring wide-eyed at him. The prospect of a child had not yet occurred to her. For a second an odd sort of joy burst through her, but then common sense asserted itself. It had only been one night, and she reminded herself, she and Charles had been married for nearly nine years and in all that time she had never conceived.
“I think you forget that I may very well be barren,” she said quietly. “I was married for several years and there was no child from that marriage.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Luc said, not happy with the jealousy that ripped through him at the reminder that she had once loved another man and had married him. His voice harder than he meant, he said, “Honor demands that I marry you. There are no excuses for what I did last night, and I must make what reparations that I can. Marriage is the first step.”
Gillian shook her head. “No. I will not marry you.” A stubborn glint in her eyes, she added, “There is nothing you can say that will make me accept you as my husband.”
Luc’s mouth twisted. “As a lover you have no complaint, but you will not take my name?”
She flushed, memories of the previous night streaking across her mind, but managed to mutter, “There is no need for us to take such a drastic step.” She swallowed. What she was about to say went against the grain, went against everything she had tried to be, everything she believed in, but she could see no other way to convince him that marriage wasn’t the only option. “There are many widows who have lovers, and the world doesn’t expect them to marry the men they take to their beds,” she said with an airiness she didn’t feel. “This is no different.”
Sophia gasped. “Gillian! You don’t believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter whether I believe it or not, I am not going to marry him,” she said. Almost pleading, she added, “It was only one night, Sophy. No one else, except we three, knows what occurred. Surely we can keep it a secret and forget it ever happened?”
“And if you are with child?” Luc asked coolly.
Gillian nearly stamped her foot. “I already told you
: based on my previous marriage, it is unlikely.”
He strolled up to her. Tipping her face up with one finger, he stared down into her willful features. “You may be willing to take the chance; I am not. I will speak to your uncle.”
Before she could say another word, he walked over to the door opening onto the main hallway and stepped out of the room. Through the open doorway, both women heard him say, “Ah, good morning, Meacham. I believe that the ladies will be most grateful for the restorative powers of the tea you bring them.”
Gillian moaned and closed her eyes. Her fate was sealed.
Within the hour, Silas had the facts before him. Leaving a stunned Gillian to partake tea by herself and with a pleased smile on her face, Sophia had immediately sought out her uncle and told him what had transpired; Meacham confirmed the meeting with Luc outside Gillian’s rooms. Swearing them both to secrecy, he dismissed Meacham, but signaled for Sophia to remain. He considered the situation while Sophia waited. It was very bad of Luc, and Gillian should have known better, but in the end, he decided that his uppermost emotion was satisfaction.
Gillian’s stated refusal to marry Luc worried him, though. “Will the marriage make her unhappy?” he asked Sophia. Uncertainly, he added, “They should marry, and it is my dearest wish that they do so, but I cannot force her to marry him if this marriage will bring her misery. I would not see her married to a man she despises.”
Sophia snorted. “She’s in love with him, for it is my belief that she never would have allowed him in her bed if she wasn’t in love with him.” Considering the situation, she said, “Marriage to Charles did nothing to make her view the wedded state with anything but revulsion... . Charles may have besotted her in the beginning, but his indifference to her and his gambling destroyed her affection for him. And, of course, that despicable bargain with Winthrop did nothing to make her cherish his memory.” At Silas’s nod of agreement, she went on, “Luc Joslyn may be a gambler, but he is nothing like Charles... . She is just being stubborn and allowing the fact that Luc is a gambler to keep her from what I am confident would be a happy marriage.”
Desire Becomes Her Page 24
