He’d never reacted this intensely to a woman before, except that night in his room with Lizzie. She was untutored. A virgin. But she could heat his blood like no other. He was so out of his element that when she swayed into him, he almost toppled.
Looking around, he spied the broad surface of Lynwood’s desk. It was madness to take this any further with her brothers right outside the door, but with her insistent strokes, he didn’t think he could leave the room if the house were on fire.
He backed Lizzie up to the desk, then cleared a spot for her to sit. One of Lynwood’s ledgers fell on the floor with a resounding thud. Lizzie and Riverton looked at each other.
From outside in the hall, they heard Lynwood’s voice. “Is everything all right in there?”
As his hands pressed inside Lizzie’s bodice so skin met skin, he yelled out to Lynwood. “I would never harm your sister. You know that!” He kissed her ear and nibbled at the lobe.
“I know that!” yelled Lynwood from the hall. “I thought she might’ve thrown something at you.”
“Go away, Liam!” yelled Lizzie as she leaned back on the desk, gripping Riverton’s cock, squeezing until he moaned.
“You’re driving me wild,” he whispered in her ear. “But we have to be quick.”
“Quick?” She clearly didn’t know what he was alluding to.
But she’d soon find out.
Keeping one hand on her breast, kneading relentlessly, he drew up her skirts with the other. As he slipped his hand into her drawers, her eyes flew wide open.
“Shhh,” he gentled her. “Don’t be scared.”
His hand was nestled in warm, wet curls. As he slid one finger into her heat, he began a pulsating rhythm with his palm against the heart of her. She may have been shocked at first, but she quickly melted into the rhythm, moving with him. Her eyes closed and her head rolled from side to side. He was shocked and aroused even more when he realized how quickly she was approaching her climax.
He removed his hand from her breast and put it on her cheek.
“Look at me,” he whispered to her, his voice nothing but a rasp.
Then she opened her beautiful eyes that were now the deepest green. She whispered “Marcus,” then he pressed just a bit harder as he thrust another finger into her, making her shatter.
He caught her scream in his mouth. Then pulled back to see her sated beauty. She put her hand upon his cheek.
“Marcus, I…”
There was pounding on the door once again.
“Marcus, we’re coming in,” said Lynwood. “I’m too concerned for your safety.”
Somehow, Lizzie and Riverton were able to jump away from the desk. Lizzie straightened her skirts. Marcus turned his back to the door and searched for the decanter, while surreptitiously wiping his hand on his handkerchief. As her scent rose from the cloth, he was hit with another wave of lust. What they’d just done had been madness, with her family just outside the door. But he’d do it all again, if given the opportunity.
The door opened and her family entered. There was a moment of silence, then Lynwood said “What the devil happened to my desk?”
Still unable to turn and face the duke, Riverton heard Lizzie apologize to her brother. Apparently, her temper had got away from her and she’d thrown Lynwood’s beloved ledger to the floor. And strewn the papers across the desk. And knocked over the sand. And somehow broken a pencil. But she was feeling much better now, thank you, and would certainly clean up the mess if Lynwood wanted her to. Although, she mused, didn’t they have a full complement of servants for just that purpose?
Prue cleared her throat. “It seems, Lizzie, that you stated your case quite ardently. What was Riverton’s reaction?”
Marcus stood behind a chair. “I was pleased to learn that my fiancé has come to see the error of her ways.”
“I beg your pardon,” said an incredulous Lizzie.
“I believe we’ve seen the last of the treatises,” continued Riverton. “We had a private discussion in which she ceded authority to me.” He smiled at Lizzie. Her color rose, no doubt in remembrance of their rather wild interlude on the desk. An interlude that would have to be repeated in his study, but behind locked doors and without her brothers standing in the hall. Lizzie bent to pick up the ledger from the floor. Then she turned and threw it against the bookcase.
“Elizabeth,” said Lynwood, “I must ask you to stop abusing my ledger. Keeping proper accounts is important and I don’t know how I shall be able to do so if you throw it every time you and Riverton disagree.”
But Lizzie was in no mood to listen to Liam’s lecture. She strode over to Riverton, her green eyes blazing.
“My lord, I shall never – and I mean never – give up the values I hold dear. No matter what means of persuasion you employ.” With that, she upended Lynwood’s chess board then stormed out of the room, leaving a dumbfounded Riverton to face her brothers.
“Riverton,” drawled Lynwood, as he took in the devastation left in his sister’s wake, “next time you try to get Lizzie to see your point of view, can you please do it in your study and not mine?”
Hal crossed to Riverton and held out his hand. “Welcome to the family, old boy. Glad to have you as one of us.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Arthur awoke slowly, as if surfacing from a swim underwater. It was still dark out, but there was a light in an adjoining room. He was lying on an unfamiliar bed – not exactly the first time he’d awakened thusly – but there was no pliant female lying next to him. It didn’t even appear to be a woman’s bedroom. There was a decided lack of pink, almost no pillows and little evidence of female accoutrement like perfume and brushes and such. So, as disconcerting as it would’ve been to awaken in an unknown female’s room, it was even more so to wake up in what was most likely a man’s bed.
Other than his jacket, he was still fully clothed, which was somewhat comforting. He even had his boots on. So whoever had put him to bed had pretty much let him fall onto it. At least it was better than letting him pass out in an alley, but it was still damned odd to have no recollection of where he was or how he’d got there.
He sat up and swung his legs to the floor, then immediately regretted his actions. His head was spinning and had there been anything in his stomach, he was sure the contents would now be on the floor. It made no sense that he would’ve drunk so much the night before. A patch of particularly bad luck at the tables had him down for the month. Significantly down. His losses had been steadily accruing and he would never get foxed when he needed his wits to be sharp. But, given the pain in his head and stomach upset, he’d definitely had too much of something the night before. If only he could remember.
He rose to his feet, swayed so much he almost fell back on the bed, then reached for his jacket. It was a Weston and there was no way he’d submit his body to the torture of getting into the fitted garment, so he simply reached into the pocket in search of his purse then flung the jacket over his shoulder.
His purse was, not surprisingly, empty. His sapphire cravat pin was also gone. But it was the presence of his gold signet ring with the Kellington family crest that told him the loss of his blunt and pin had been at the gaming tables and not at the hands of a thief. If only it could tell him where he was and how he’d come to be there.
It looked to be some sort of bachelor quarters. The furniture was nice enough, even if the room was rather bare. There was really only one way to learn who had brought him there. He checked to make sure he still had his knife in his boot, then walked toward the light in the next room.
“How do you feel, Kellington?” asked the Earl of Stalford as he looked up from his book. “If it’s as bad as you look, it’s a wonder you’re out of bed.”
“I’ve been better,” said Arthur, looking around the room. “Are these your lodgings?”
“Yes. I rented my house out to some sheep farmer from the north who seems to think a Mayfair residence will render his daughter marriageable. He’d have a better chance marryi
ng off the sheep.”
“Could very well work. There are more than enough impoverished peers to go around.”
“Too true,” said Stalford as he poured two fingers of brandy, then offered it to Arthur. At his grimace, Stalford raised the glass in salute then downed half of it. “Have you ever considered doing it? Marrying for money?”
“Don’t know if I’ll ever marry,” said Arthur distractedly, as he looked for the exit. “Certainly wouldn’t do it for the blunt.”
“Not even to settle your debts? They are considerable, you know.”
That got Arthur’s attention. “What are you talking about? I’m on a losing streak, but nothing I can’t cover. I’ll just have to dip into next quarter’s allowance.”
“I must say I’m surprised by Lynwood’s largesse.” At Arthur’s raised brow, he continued. “I don’t know how much you’ve lost in the past few weeks, but tonight you dropped close to £20,000. If that can be covered by dipping into your quarterly allowance, I think I should like to be adopted.”
Arthur dropped into the nearest chair, his knees suddenly weak. “You can’t be serious.”
“Unfortunately, I am. I was there. I even tried to talk you out of it, but you couldn’t be reasoned with.”
“I don’t remember a thing.”
“Little wonder, between the drinks and the opium…”
“I would never smoke opium!” But even as he said the words, Arthur realized his dry mouth and queasy stomach were telltale signs of opium use. He would never smoke it, but if it had been slipped into his drink it would explain a lot about the evening.
“I was also surprised. Shocked, really. You, who are known for being so cool and deliberative, throwing caution to the wind like that. You were so out of your senses by the end of the night, I brought you here, only because I didn’t want to risk scaring your sister or experiencing Lynwood’s wrath if I’d taken you home. I imagine he’ll have enough to say when he hears about your gaming losses.”
He would at that, thought Arthur. It was a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to. Lynwood lectured. He dictated edicts. He had grand expectations. And from time to time he bellowed. None of it was pleasant behavior, but Arthur had withstood it all before and no doubt would again. But in this case, Lynwood wouldn’t just be angry. He’d be gravely disappointed. And for some reason, Arthur wanted to avoid that more than anything. But he wasn’t sure how he’d manage, since he had nowhere near that much blunt to pay his debt. And Arthur always paid his debts.
As if reading his mind, Stalford continued.
“I think I may know a way out of your predicament.”
Instantly suspicious, since Stalford rarely if ever volunteered to help anyone if there wasn’t something in it for him, Arthur nodded for him to go on.
“I believe a large portion of the debt might be forgiven, perhaps even half of it.”
If that were true, Arthur might not have to go to Lynwood. He had some investments that could be liquidated. Hal owed him money. He’d even lent some to Ned to fix up the Marston Vale estate. He wouldn’t want to ask for it back so quickly, but he’d rather do that than go to Lynwood.
“What would I have to do to make that happen?”
“Nothing so very much. Someone has an interest in your sister. He’d like the chance to get to know her better.”
Despite his throbbing head, despite the sour stomach, even despite his lamentable lack of balance, Arthur was across the room with his hands on Stalford’s throat in an instant.
“I would never bargain with my sister. I’ll go to debtors’ prison first.”
Normally not a match physically for Arthur, Stalford was able to push the man off him because of his weakened state. But not taking any chances, he retreated behind his chair.
“Stop behaving like a lunatic, Kellington. I’m the only friend you’ve got right now. You’d be wise to remember it.”
“And you’d be wise to remember that any insult toward my sister will be met by an invitation to the dueling field.”
“Noted,” said Stalford curtly. “I mean no insult or harm. I just want the chance to pursue my suit.”
“You’re the person who’s interested in Lady Elizabeth?”
“I’ve always admired her and was making significant progress in getting to know her.”
“You’re too late. She’s engaged to Riverton.”
“She was forced into an engagement because of that unpleasant situation at the Tarleton ball. But you don’t truly imagine she favors the suit, do you?”
While Arthur would never breathe a word of it to anyone other than his brothers, he did have his doubts about the likely success of a marriage between Lizzie and Riverton. He had nothing against the man. He just wasn’t sure Riverton had enough life in him to keep up with Lizzie, who could be a handful. And he hated the thought of Lizzie forced into a match with anyone.
“All I’m asking,” continued Stalford, “is the chance to talk to her in a quieter, more relaxed setting than London.”
“You can’t possibly be suggesting a trip with her. I was quiet serious about improper advances being settled on a field of honor.”
“There would be nothing improper about this, I promise you. I was invited to the house party the Marchioness of Riverton is giving. I’m only hoping you can persuade Lady Elizabeth to attend. That way I’ll have a week in which to show her there’s an alternative to Riverton.”
“You wish to supplant Riverton at a party given by his mother?”
“Supplant is such a dramatic word. I merely wish to give your sister another option.”
Arthur considered the proposal. Involving Lizzie in this scheme was distasteful in the extreme. But if it were to give her a chance to meet other suitors in a relaxed setting, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. However, there was one thing he didn’t understand.
“How will this get half of my debt erased?”
“Because, old boy, you owe the money to me.”
* * *
Lizzie was livid. Livid! How dare Marcus kiss her and give her those completely scandalous caresses only because he was trying to change her mind about the political treatise? She had no idea the very upright and proper marquess could be so underhanded and sneaky. And she was alarmingly more attracted to him because of it. Her brothers had often teased her that she was too used to getting her own way so any husband of hers would have to know how to hold his own. Obviously, Marcus was quite capable of it.
Lizzie was amazed by what the man could do with a limited amount of time and the risk of her brothers bursting into the room. It made one wonder what he would’ve done with time and privacy at his disposal.
It made one wonder and feel extremely heated and restless.
There was no doubt the physical sensations were the most intense and pleasurable that Lizzie had ever experienced. Nothing could even compare. But the fact that he’d been completely unaffected was most troubling. And given his expertise, she stood in distinct danger of losing every future argument with him, because all he’d have to do would be to repeat those indescribable caresses and she’d morph into a milksop miss. Although she suspected she’d be one physically satisfied milksop miss.
But even more troubling than his means of persuasion was the fact he hadn’t called in the two days since that interlude on Lynwood’s desk. He’d sent a message, some excuse about a crisis on one of his estates requiring his immediate attention. But there had been no warmth, no sign of his regard.
But, Lizzie remembered, this was a man who looked upon marriage as a necessary part of life. He didn’t believe in love matches. Not that she thought she was in love. But it would be nice to know he had at least a little regard for her, other than simply physical attraction.
She’d kept to her rooms since the publication of the second treatise – and the caricature on this one did look nicer than the last. She’d even sent that nice Mr. Carter a letter of thanks, along with a letter to his publisher saying the good man deserved a rai
se. She avoided the rest of the house because Lynwood was still in high dudgeon. Hal kept exclaiming about the overheated female brain. Ned had lectured her, although Jane had been a steadfast supporter. Only Arthur had been silent on the matter and Lizzie thought it must be a sign that he had matters of his own to concern himself with.
So she’d taken to her rooms and was currently at work on a hideous sampler she planned to give to Aunt Agatha, the Countess of Crenshaw at Christmas. It was a most welcome diversion when Arthur came to take tea with her.
He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, with dark circles under his eyes and a sickly pallor to his skin. Most distressingly, he was dejected in spirit, which was decidedly odd. While he’d never been as carefree as Hal, Arthur didn’t take life all that seriously, and himself not at all. It was troubling to see him this way.
“That is a singularly hideous piece of needlework,” he said to his sister.
“It is, isn’t it? How are you Arthur? I must say you’ve looked better.”
“You’re not the first to inform me.” He took a sip of tea, then grimaced. “Have you any of the brandy you stole from Lynwood?”
“I take exception to that implication, and it’s too early to drink. Why are you here, Arthur? It cannot be merely to criticize my needlework and complain about the tea.”
He nodded, then was still once more. “I understand you’ve been invited to the Riverton house party.”
“Yes, but I won’t be attending.”
“Why not?”
“I would rather be covered in marmalade and fed to woman-eating insects in the Amazon, although when I write to decline I shall be at least somewhat more tactful. Though likely not by much.”
“So you haven’t turned it down?”
“Not yet, but you cannot think I’d accept. You have spent time with them, haven’t you?”
“If you marry Riverton,” said Arthur casually, as he wiped away imaginary dust from the arm of his chair, “you also marry his family. You won’t be able to avoid them.”
“That sounds like a challenge I’d like to take on. Besides, Riverton has several properties. I’m sure he can find them one that’s far enough away from us to be suitable. Perhaps the area of the Amazon I mentioned.”
Never Miss a Chance (Kellington Book Two) Page 15
