A Wicked Way to Win an Earl

by Anna Bradley

  What a muddle she’d made of everything. Since the moment she’d crossed the threshold of Bellwood, she’d behaved like one of those hardened gamesters in the scandal sheets, who make one foolish bet after another until they lose everything.

  Perhaps Lily wasn’t ashamed of her, but she was ashamed of herself.

  She frowned a little in the dark, thinking of old Mrs. Aspley and her crab apples. It wasn’t the story that struck her; it was what Lily said about their mother having a romantic soul. Delia had always thought her mother so courageous to abandon her privileged life in the ton, but it wasn’t about bravery. Not really.

  As soon as Alec’s lips met hers tonight, as soon his arms closed around her and she felt his hair against her fingers, she no longer had a choice. There’d been nothing else for her to do but twine her arms around his neck and hold him against her heart.

  She hadn’t understood it before, but now she knew it had been the same for her mother, who hadn’t been running away from something—not Hart Sutherland, or the Chases, or even the ton. Millicent had been running to something. To someone. To Henry Somerset. It had never been about anything but love, a love for which her mother had risked everything.

  I can’t bear to see you with him . . . because you’re mine.

  Alec. Warm, teasing lips and strong, possessive hands. Darkly beautiful.

  Odd, the way everything suddenly became very, very simple.

  He was flawed, just as she was. Just like every other person. She didn’t know if he loved her. She didn’t know if he was hers. She knew only that she was his.

  And that was all she needed to know.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Bellwood had never been so quiet. The soft shuffle of her bare feet as she crept down the hallway was deafening. Her mother wouldn’t have approved of what Delia was about to do, but the force that pulled her down the hallway toward Alec’s chamber was as inevitable as drawing her next breath, and she was no more able to resist it than she was able to stop breathing. She liked to think her mother would have understood that.

  There was no need to count the doors this time. She remembered which one was Alec’s. She knocked once, softly but firmly. It felt as if a thousand butterflies fluttered against her rib cage, but underneath their beating wings a thrilling current of excitement thrummed through her.

  “What?” Alec barked.

  Delia flinched. His harsh tone didn’t reassure her, but to turn back now was out of the question. She didn’t want to turn back. She pushed the door open and slipped inside.

  Alec was nowhere to be seen, but she could hear him moving about in his dressing room. “For God’s sake. What now? Do what you need to do, then go,” he growled, without coming into the room.

  Delia stood against the door with her hands clasped in front of her, waiting. When there was no movement and no answer, Alec strode into the room. He froze when he saw her and the papers he’d been carrying in his hand scattered to the floor. There was a stunned pause, then, “Delia. You shouldn’t be here.”

  The butterflies had abandoned her rib cage and fluttered their way into her throat. Alec seemed cold, detached, as if he didn’t want her there, and she didn’t know how to make him want her. She was no seductress. She didn’t have any sensual secrets or tricks to entice him.

  They were both silent for a long moment. Their eyes held until gradually the rest of the room began to fade and Delia no longer saw the dresser or the looking glass or the fire burning in the grate. She saw only Alec. He hadn’t moved and he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. Delia stared back at him, at his shadowy face. She couldn’t read his expression or see his eyes, but it didn’t matter anymore, because she could feel his hunger. She could feel the way he wanted her, as if he’d brushed his fingers against her skin.

  She didn’t need tricks or secrets. She didn’t need seductive wiles. All she needed was Alec. All she had to do was tell the truth about what she felt in her heart.

  “I should be here, Alec.” She took a step toward him.

  He ran a hand through his thick hair, making it stand on end. Delia watched that hand rake through the dark hair and tried to commit the gesture to memory, so she could take it back with her to her lonely little corner of Surrey.

  “Go to bed, Delia.” His voice was tense, and he didn’t take his eyes off her.

  Delia moved as if she were in a dream, farther into the room, toward the fire. She knelt down on the rug in front of the flickering flames and began to pull the pins from her hair.

  Alec caught his breath. “Don’t.”

  But she did. She pulled pin after pin until her hair fell around her shoulders and down her back in a shimmering waterfall.

  She waited.

  With a low, choked sound, Alec crossed the room until he stood behind her where she knelt motionless on the carpet. He took a lock of her hair in his hand and let his fingers slide through the long strands. After a moment Delia leaned her head back so it rested lightly against his thigh.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Delia,” he repeated in a strangled voice. “You should be in your room, behind a locked door, where I can’t touch you.”

  She turned her head against his thigh so she could look up into his shadowy face. “I want you to touch me, Alec.”

  His fingers flexed in her hair. He released the long lock he’d been caressing and laid it gently on her shoulder. He crossed in front of her, and dropped to his knees before the fire, facing her. He raised his hands to either side of her face and placed his lips against her forehead. He kissed her eyes, her chin, the tip of her nose. Delia swayed, aching for the feel of his lips against her own.

  And then they were there, brushing against hers, so lightly, as if he were exploring the shape of them. He continued the teasing strokes until Delia moaned in frustration and grabbed a handful of his shirt to pull him closer.

  It was as if a stray spark had set a whole forest ablaze. Alec reacted at once, spreading a large hand against her back, pulling her tightly against his body and closing his mouth ravenously over hers. He swept his tongue across the opening of her lips and she parted with a breathless gasp. He surged inside, stroking against her tongue and the inside of her mouth, demanding she taste him in return. She did, twining her tongue around his and closing her arms around his neck.

  She could feel almost to the moment when he began to lose control and surrender to the desire that surged between them. He weaved his fingers tightly into her hair and moved her head to the side so he could taste the skin of her throat. “Yes,” he whispered when she arched her neck against his seeking lips. “Yes, just like that. Let me . . .”

  His mouth was so sweet against her throat she feared she’d let him do anything. She’d beg him. He began to trace light circles against the sensitive skin under her ear with his thumb, his mouth following his fingers. He nipped her earlobe and Delia jerked in his arms, astonished the feel of his teeth against her skin could be so erotic.

  “Delia,” he murmured. His hands slid from her face to wrap around her waist. For a moment he seemed unaware he gripped her there tightly, but then his hands relaxed and he began to caress her waist and spine in long, seductive strokes. “Are you sure, love?” He tore his mouth from hers even as his hands slipped slowly down her spine to rest on the rounded curve of her bottom. “Are you sure?” he asked again, drawing back so he could look into deep blue eyes gone heavy-lidded with desire. “Tell me now, while I can still stop.”

  Delia raised herself to her knees and moved toward him until she was nearly sitting in his lap. “Don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

  With those whispered words, Alec was lost. He’d tried to stay away from her, tried to resist her even as she knelt in front of the fire, offering herself to him. But now her soft body was pressed against his and she was pleading breathlessly for him not to stop, and Alec’s good intentions fled like seeds
scattered into the wind.

  Ah, God, he wanted her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything before. God help him, but he could never give her up. Not even if having her tore him and Robyn apart.

  He pushed every other thought away before they could take root and let them fly into the wind along with all his other promises to himself. He cupped the curve of her bottom and fitted her body more closely against him, his desire ratcheting even higher when his hard cock pressing against her made her gasp. His desire for her was a live thing. It breathed and grew inside him, rushing through him and twining around his heart.

  Alec’s mouth returned to her lips, gentler this time, coaxing, his tongue licking into her mouth with delicate, restrained strokes. He reached up to loosen the buttons of her night rail, surprised to find his hands were shaking. One by one the buttons yielded, and Alec slipped his fingers inside the sagging neck and slid the night rail down her arms. She wore nothing underneath.

  “Lovely.” His voice was husky, his eyes riveted on her creamy flesh and the rosy pink of her nipples. “I knew you would be.” He teased one finger across her collarbone and then brushed it lightly down the center of her chest and under the curve of one breast, watching hungrily as her nipples tightened in response.

  His eyes flicked up to her face and he smiled a little wickedly. “Do you want me to touch you, Delia?” His fingers rested under her breast, motionless as he awaited her response.

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  Alec could feel her quick, hectic breaths under the tips of his fingers. “Ask me,” he said, his own breath heaving in and out of his chest.

  “Please, Alec,” she whispered. “Please.”

  But it was Alec who groaned when the pad of his thumb brushed against her nipple. He circled the rosy tip gently, just once, and then stopped and watched her reaction, astonished he could be so deeply aroused from simply stroking her breasts. After a moment he circled the hard tip again and Delia caught her breath, as if surprised at the sensation.

  “Does it feel good, love?” He shook from the effort of holding himself back.

  “So good,” Delia said with such innocent wonder Alec’s tenuous hold on his control began to slip. He cupped both of her breasts in his hands and dragged his thumbs over her nipples, again and again, teasing her mercilessly until her trembling and her low, pleading moans became too much for him and he slid a hand under her back and lifted her toward him, desperate to taste her.

  Delia cried out when his hot mouth closed over the tip of her breast. Alec touched just the tip of his tongue to her nipple, but it wasn’t enough for him, not nearly enough. He was starved for the taste of her. His tongue flicked against the rosy nub in endless quick, hard strokes. He stopped only long enough to suckle her before his tongue darted out again to torment her. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to go slowly, but Delia sank her fingers into his hair and arched up to meet his mouth, writhing in his arms, and he couldn’t stop. He fastened his mouth onto her other breast to devour it roughly with his lips and tongue.

  When he pulled away at last, Delia was panting, her head thrown back and her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her pink nipples proud and erect. The sight was unbearably erotic and Alec felt his cock surge even harder. He needed to calm down. He was behaving like an animal—

  “Take off your shirt,” Delia demanded breathlessly. When he didn’t do so at once, she began to tug and pull at the fabric.

  Alec stared at her. Was it possible she was as crazed with desire as he was? She was a virgin, an innocent—

  “Hurry! Now, Alec.”

  Alec tore the shirt over his head and threw it carelessly into a corner. Delia stood and pulled her nightdress the rest of the way off and stepped out of the pool of fabric. Alec gazed up at her, amazed and wildly aroused by her eagerness. He wrapped his fingers around her ankles and rose to his knees, running his hands higher and higher up her smooth legs until he grazed the soft, bare skin of her thighs. He stood and in one smooth movement tugged his trousers and smallclothes the rest of the way off and kicked them aside. Then he swept her up into his arms and carried her to his bed.

  “Exquisite,” Alec murmured when she lay naked before him. He placed one large, warm palm against the flesh of her lower belly and gazed at her, his dark eyes burning.

  Delia said nothing, simply held out her arms to him.

  Alec stretched out next to her on the bed and gathered her body close against his. He threaded his fingers through her hair and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her again and again until Delia’s breath came in panting gasps and the most maddeningly erotic whimpers and sighs escaped her throat. She strained against him, her body instinctively seeking release. He gently pushed his leg between her knees and pressed his hard thigh against the soft, wet space between her legs.

  She was close, and he felt as if he’d explode if he didn’t take her now. Yet still he hesitated, jaw clenched and body tensed, until he felt her begin to writhe against the leg between her thighs. He spread her legs wider apart then, pinning one of them down under his own, and slipped his hand between her open thighs. He ran his fingers gently through her honey-colored curls and then parted her folds and teased the tip of his finger against the slick cleft, lightly circling her clitoris.

  “Alec.” Delia’s head thrashed from side to side against the bed.

  God, she felt incredible. “Tell me what you want, Delia,” Alec ground out fiercely. His cock felt ready to explode.

  Delia’s hips rose and fell with his stroking finger. “More.”

  Alec slipped one finger into her wet heat, withdrew it, and then began a rhythmic thrusting, groaning when he felt how hot and tight she was. “Say it again.” His voice was savage with suppressed desire.

  “More, Alec.”

  God, she was drenched in honey. He couldn’t hold out much longer. He added a second finger and began to move them faster inside her, brushing his thumb against her clitoris with every stroke.

  “Yes, yes.” She struggled to spread her legs wider.

  Now.

  Alec moved over her, his arms taking his weight, and pressed his heavy cock against her soft belly. He thrust once, twice against her there, then he took himself in hand and placed his head at her dewy entrance. “It’s going to hurt, love.” He looked down into her eyes and leaned down to kiss her. “But only for a moment. I promise.”

  She looked up at him trustingly, and Alec thought he might die, she was so beautiful. He held her hips against the bed and thrust into her, tearing through her tender virginal flesh with one powerful stroke.

  Delia gasped and went rigid beneath him. Her tight, wet sheath felt so incredible around his cock, it took every ounce of Alec’s control not to keep thrusting into her like a savage, but he forced himself to stay still until he felt her begin to relax underneath him. “All right, love?” he whispered, brushing the hair gently from her face.

  After a moment she nodded. “Yes. Don’t stop, Alec.”

  Alec squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to gain control, and then he began to thrust gently, building a rhythm slowly, groaning at the sensation of her surrounding him and pulling him deeper. He was panting as he moved inside her, letting her get accustomed to the feel of his shaft filling her.

  After a moment Delia’s hands slid down his back and her fingers curled against his taut buttocks. She moved her hips up to meet his downward thrust. “Oh,” she gasped, rising up to meet him again and wrapping her legs around his lean hips. “Oh,” she whispered. “Alec. Yes.”

  Alec moved inside her, stroking deep into her over and over again, at once consumed by her and filling her. He gazed down at her, at her closed eyes, her mouth open with passion and wonder, and felt a part of his heart tear away from his chest. “Look at me, Delia,” he gasped as he plunged into her writhing body. “Look at me.”

  Delia opened her eyes and lock
ed gazes with him.

  “You are mine.”

  She gazed up at him, her eyes gone stark with passion. “Please, Alec.” She arched wildly beneath him, urging her hips against his. Then her mouth opened in a silent cry and Alec felt her hot sheath clench around him as she shattered in his arms. Seconds later he cried out, throwing his head back and driving into her in his own devastating release. “Delia,” he groaned, pumping into her, shuddering with pleasure as the spasms rocked his body.

  For long moments afterward Alec didn’t move, but hung suspended above her, his arms shaking with the effort, stunned. Then he kissed her, his lips brushing softly over her forehead before he captured her mouth gently with his own. “Are you all right, love?” His voice was shaking. “Did I hurt you?”

  Delia smiled up at him and placed her hand against his cheek. “You didn’t hurt me, Alec.” She paused; then she said shyly, “I—that was . . . I never knew.”

  Alec grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He rolled to his side and gathered her close against him, twining his legs with hers.

  “Oh, it was one.” She sighed drowsily and laid her head against his chest.

  “Sleep.” He threaded his fingers through her hair again, admiring the way the light set the gold strands on fire.

  She fell asleep at once, but Alec remained awake for a long time after Delia’s eyes had drifted closed. He held her tight against his heart, and thought about how everything in his life had just changed.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Delia fell into a deep sleep to the sound of Alec’s heartbeat against her ear, wrapped in the warm circle of his arms. At some point in the night he rose and slipped away. He returned a short while later and Delia thought she felt a warm, wet cloth moving gently between her legs, but she was too drowsy to be sure, and far too contented to be embarrassed.