by Clee, Adele
Having seen the destructive power of love—how his father had lived in a constant state of mourning—the thought of being dependent upon one person had left Evan avoiding commitment.
And then Vivienne Hart had hammered on his door amid a raging thunderstorm to play havoc with his rationale. Seducing him with the prospect of an adventure. He’d been enticed by her bravery, her tenacity and cavalier attitude, not by hidden treasure or the prospect of vengeance.
Miss Hart deserved the moniker Valiant. She had defended him in front of Charles Sloane. Stood beside him like the king’s own guard, ready to fight to the death. She trusted him. With resounding confidence, she had placed her beating heart in his hands.
And how had he repaid such loyalty and devotion?
By dragging her into a lewd conversation with an old paramour.
By dragging her down to his low level.
She deserved better. Yet despite finding the strength to walk away from her downstairs, he couldn’t calm his craving. He couldn’t let her think him indifferent to her charms. He couldn’t let her settle into bed, believing he didn’t care. Hence the reason he sat in a chair in the corner of her bedchamber, hidden in the shadows. Waiting.
He remained alone with his thoughts for half an hour, had dismissed the maid who came to stoke the fire, light the lamp and turn down the bed.
The rattle of the doorknob sent his heart shooting to his throat. It was laughable that a man with his experience should feel nervous about being in a woman’s bedchamber, but such was the power of Vivienne Hart’s allure.
Evan watched the figure enter the room, hoping it wasn’t Mrs McCready with her penchant for snooping. Fitchett mentioned he’d found the servant examining the portraits in the drawing room. And Evan was sure he’d seen her walking the corridors late last night, too.
It wasn’t the cranky old crone. He knew it was Vivienne Hart when she braced her hands on her hips and scanned the room.
“How odd.”
“Odd the lamp isn’t lit?” he said from the depths of the dark recess. “Or odd the maid isn’t here to undress you?” That task was unreservedly his. Indeed, his voice held the smooth drawl of a man intent on seduction.
Miss Hart didn’t gasp or stumble back, terrified. “Odd this isn’t the first time I’ve been accosted by the smell of your cologne in this room.”
He stretched languidly and crossed his legs at the ankles to ease the ache in his loins. “I’ve been waiting for some time.”
“You entered my bedchamber last night while I slept.”
“Is that a statement or merely conjecture?” He threw a pack of playing cards onto the bed. “Pick a card, Vivienne. Let’s see who will be the question master and who will bare their soul.”
“It seems I have the devil’s luck, sir. Are you sure you want to play?”
“The law of averages suggests you will confess a secret at some point. You can pick my card. I have the utmost faith you will do what is right.” It was time she knew she had his trust and respect.
He felt the spark of excitement in the air before hearing her light laugh. “Very well. Be warned, this is a game of truths. Play only if you’re brave enough to speak from the heart.”
“It’s also a game of forfeits. Play only if you’re willing to do as I command.”
The hitch in her breath fed his growing desire.
“Perhaps I’ll be the one issuing commands,” she said. “In the absence of a maid, I might have you light the lamp and pull back the coverlet.”
And he would do both willingly, for he would have every inch of her naked body bathed in light when he lowered her down onto the bed.
She removed her gloves, though did not slip them down slowly to seduce him into submission. She tugged them off as if braced for a challenge. He liked that. He liked the fact she aroused him without the fake artifice. And while she shuffled the cards like a novice, she drew with the skill of a cardsharp.
“The ace of spades.” She flashed the card, though it was impossible to see it clearly against the dim firelight. “There is little point drawing a card for you. Do you concede?”
“An ace? Madam, let us hope you’re not about to rob me of my pocket watch while my attention is diverted.” Another ace would force her to draw again, but he wasn’t playing to win the game of questions. He was playing for a far greater prize. “But yes, I concede.”
“Excellent.” She paused while deliberating, yet he knew the question she longed to ask. “Why did you enter my bedchamber last night without seeking permission?”
The truth filled him with the same warm—yet confounding—tenderness he’d experienced last night. “I was drawn here, drawn by a feeling I cannot explain. But the need to see you sleeping peacefully after the stresses of the day brought surprising comfort.”
She touched her hand to her throat but didn’t speak.
“Draw again, Vivienne.”
After some fumbling with the cards, she pulled two from the pack. “Ten of diamonds. You have the seven of clubs. It’s my turn again, Mr Sloane.”
Evan rubbed his thighs. “Let me save some time. You want to know why I left you alone in the drawing room and came upstairs. Why I didn’t devour your mouth when I’ve hungered for you all day.”
She stepped closer and gripped the bedpost. “Have you? Have you hungered for me all day?”
“Is that your question?” he teased. “For it is unlike you to ask something which is so blatantly obvious.”
“A woman is often plagued with doubts.”
“Then why do you think I came upstairs?” He doubted she had the measure of the situation. Indeed, he had only just come to the logical conclusion himself.
“Seeing Mrs Worthing tonight brought a marked change in you.” She sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, still holding the post as if expecting devastating news. “You must miss entertaining your friends, miss the freedom that comes with doing as you please. Know I will not outstay my welcome. Soon, I shall be gone, and you can continue as before.”
Gone!
The word hit him like an uppercut to the jaw. Gone. It meant to be left alone, lost and hopeless. Gone. Nausea bubbled in his stomach. His lungs screamed for air, yet he was still breathing.
Evan sat up straight. “Loneliness can make a man behave indelicately. A man might make excuses for the incorrect choices he makes when his heart craves companionship.”
“I know what it’s like to be lonely. I’m telling you I understand. You wish to surround yourself with people, and I am in the way.”
“I wish to surround myself with you, Vivienne, no one else.” He wanted her bare skin pressed against his, her hands smothering every aching muscle. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, his cock so deep in her body he would never feel alone again. “I seek a meaningful connection with my wife and am not interested in tupping a harlot.”
The crackle of the fire echoed the sparks of sexual tension in the air.
She pushed to her feet. “I am not your wife yet, Mr Sloane.”
“That’s a mere formality.” He stood, prowled towards the nymph shimmering in the muted light like the surface of the ocean. So enticing. So damn inviting. “Pick a card, Vivienne.”
Fate would grant him a boon.
Her fingers shook as she shuffled the pack. She fanned them in her hands, forced him to choose. Evan drew the king of hearts—a gift from the gods. When she pulled the eight of hearts, he was almost knocked off his feet by a rush of euphoria.
He smiled. “Eight signifies new beginnings.” Making love to Vivienne Hart would be a novel experience. “And now I believe it’s my turn to ask a question.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, and he resisted the urge to pull her close and suck on the plump flesh. “Then ask it.”
He spent a few seconds raking his gaze boldly over every delicious curve, over the soft swell of her breasts rising rapidly to torment him.
“Do you want to make love? Do you want me to pleasure y
ou in ways beyond your wildest imagination? Do you want to ease my loneliness, Vivienne, let me ease yours, let me prove I’m not a bore in bed?”
The glazed look of desire in her eyes said she did.
“You asked three questions, Mr Sloane.”
“All requiring one answer, Miss Hart.” He could not take her to bed without having her consent. “Unless you wish to pay a forfeit and do what I command.”
Her tongue appeared, licking the corner of her mouth, driving him wild. “What would you have me do?”
Lascivious visions burst into his mind. He’d have her on her knees sucking him to completion. He’d have her spread out before him like a feast while he gorged on every morsel. But those were pleasures reserved for a woman comfortable with intimacy. He would have to begin slowly. Arouse her to the point she was no longer abashed.
“I sent Randall to bed. I want you to play valet and undress me, Vivienne.” He’d removed his coat and belt. There wasn’t much for her to do.
Her eyes widened as she glanced at his shirt, a flimsy barrier to his nakedness. “I can be rather clumsy, not at all seductive, and am likely to remove your clothes as if you’re an obstinate hospital patient.”
Evan couldn’t help but smile. “Let me make it easier.”
He strode to the bedchamber door, turned the key in the lock, sat on the cushioned stool by the dressing table and yanked off his cavalier boots and stockings.
“Undress me in the way that pleases you,” he said, coming to stand before her. “If you wish to wrestle the shirt from my back, so be it.”
She studied him as if he were a complex puzzle.
“Don’t be shy. You’re the woman who stormed into my home, pulled a contract from your thigh belt and told me I was obliged to marry you.”
She laughed, and her shoulders relaxed. “I doubt I’ll ever forget the look of horror on your face.”
“And now I wear a different look, one I see reflected in your eyes, a longing to join our bodies and bask in pleasure.” He paused. “If this isn’t what you want, we don’t—”
“No. No, it is what I want.”
Relief coursed through him. “Then strip me naked, Vivienne.”
She found a burst of courage from somewhere. Those delicate fingers he hoped would squeeze his buttocks as he thrust long and deep, settled on his hips and tugged the shirt from his breeches.
He bent his knees and raised his arms while she drew the garment over his head and dropped it onto the bed.
The muscles in her throat worked tirelessly as she stared at his toned physique. “Most men who indulge their desires, who live life to excess, have a paunch.”
“Daventry insists we box and fence weekly. Courage alone is not enough to tackle the villains in the rookeries.”
She reached out, smoothing her hands over the broad expanse of his chest, tickling the dusting of hair, trailing her fingers down over the rigid planes of his abdomen.
Evan sucked in a sharp breath. He’d been caressed and fondled many times, never like this, never with hands that explored every contour with utter fascination.
Innocence proved arousing.
His cock throbbed with approval.
“Be warned. When you slip off my breeches, my erection will spring free.” He heard her nerves in every prolonged breath. “I’m already desperate for you, and you’re still fully clothed. How does it feel to have a pirate at your mercy?”
“Exhilarating.”
“Then free me from my constraints.”
With brows knitted together in concentration, she undid the buttons on the waistband. Taking a deep breath, she drew the garment gently down over his hips, down to his ankles. The stealing glance at his erect manhood left her wide-eyed, impressed more than fearful.
“Do you like what you see, Vivienne?” He was stark naked and aroused beyond belief.
She gulped. “I find it all rather curious.”
“Curious?” That was certainly a unique way of describing a man’s solid shaft.
“Yes.” She took to staring then, examining the length and girth. “Fascinating, in fact. May I touch you?”
He laughed in shock. “Love, you may do whatever your heart desires. I am but a slave to your whims. A servant to your pleasure.”
The first tentative touch of her fingers on his cock drew a hissed obscenity from his lips. He fought the urge to tell her how to hold him, what to do. The anticipation of that first firm grip, that first glide back and forth, almost made him come in her hand.
“It’s a strange contradiction.” She wrapped her fingers around him, moved her hand in experimental strokes. “The sheath is so soft, yet you’re remarkably hard. The slightest movement makes you moan.”
“You hold the power, Vivienne. The power to bring me untold pleasure. The power to turn me away unsatisfied.” To sweep out of his life as quickly as she came. To leave him unloved and alone.
“Power is a formidable thing.” Her hot gaze licked his torso, though he noted a flash of tenderness that usually had no place in illicit liaisons. “But I would prefer to share the responsibility. I wish to be at your mercy, too.”
He glanced at the gown bathing her body in an incandescent sheen, and couldn’t wait to see it a crumpled mess on the floor.
“Then let us begin by stripping you out of that dress.”
With surprising gentleness, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, brushed her hair from her face, ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Who knew a sweet sigh of contentment could melt a man’s heart? Who knew a man could undress a woman slowly while sporting a throbbing rod of iron?
He took his time, peeled away the layers as if she were a gift conjured by his ancestor and delivered from his heavenly plane. She breathed deeply when he removed her stays, filling her lungs, though soon she would be breathless again.
“Your skin is like porcelain.” He pressed his lips to her nape before slipping her chemise up over her bare thighs, over her hips and head.
He stepped back, surveying the beauty of her womanly form, every gentle curve taunting him. The ache in his cock was nothing to the ache in his chest. He would most likely spend the second she turned around. Yet while her breasts were equally magnificent, the longing in her eyes sang to his soul.
She reached out to him first, sliding her hand over his bare chest and up around his neck, melding her naked body to his. He locked her there, his hand flat against her spine, his erection pushing against soft flesh.
“Are you sure you want to give me your virtue, Vivienne?” The irony being it was a far more precious gift than anything one would find in a pirate’s chest.
“There is no man I trust more than you.” The minx kissed his neck, inhaled the scent of him and sighed. “And I doubt I shall ever have these overwhelming feelings again.”
He vowed she would, swore a silent promise to make love to her every night from here on in.
But it was time to stoke passion’s flames, and so he captured her plump lips in a searing kiss, explored the wonders of her mouth with his inquisitive tongue, for he had never tasted a woman as intoxicating as Vivienne Hart. Never thought the mating of mouths could make his heart swell as large as his manhood. Never expected the first slide of his fingers against her slick wetness would drag a guttural groan from his lips.
“Touch me,” she panted against his mouth. “Touch me there again, Evan.”
Hell, he wasn’t sure what aroused him more—the instant shiver that came from hearing her speak his given name, or the pant of approval as he massaged the sensitive nub. They should retreat to the comfort of the bed, but he liked the way his nymph moved against his hand, rolling her hips like the gentle undulations of the sea.
“Shall I make you come like this, Vivienne?”
Her head fell back, exposing the elegant column of her throat. “Your words, your voice, they’re as stimulating as your fingers. Oh! Don’t stop, Evan.”
Stop? He’d rather fifty lashes with a birch.
“I need to be inside you, love.” This would be a quick affair, he feared. They had the whole night to work up to an encore. “Don’t be afraid. Trust me to take care of you.”
“I do, I do trust you.”
He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to bed. She tried to protest when he kissed his way down between the valley of her thighs.
“Trust me, love,” he whispered, though she surrendered with the first flick of his tongue.
As long as he lived, he would never forget the way she gripped his hair, the way she anchored his mouth to her sex and convulsed. There was nothing staged about her whimpers, nothing fake. She cried his name as if he were a knight come to her rescue, the hero of her tale.
The moment he settled between her thighs, he felt a stirring in his chest as fierce as the one gripping his cock. Indeed, when she wrapped her legs around him, opening herself for his inevitable invasion, his only thought was of her.
“If you want me to stop simply say so.” He kissed her cheek, her chin, her lips. “We can lie together, talk if that is your wish.”
Fool! Never had he uttered such tender words. Never had he tried to talk a woman out of making love. But Vivienne was right. There was a crude term for what he’d done in the past, a term that in no way defined what was about to happen here.
Please say you want me.
She responded by smoothing her hands over the muscles in his back, arching into him. “I want my first time to be with you, Evan. Don’t worry. I hear the pain is often exaggerated.”
He wouldn’t know.
But he knew how to make her want him, how to tongue her mouth the way he’d tongued her sex. It didn’t take long for her to pant his name, to rock her hips and beg him to fill the emptiness.
He obliged. Hell, she was so tight, so warm and wet, so divine. The way she hugged his cock proved maddening. So maddening he almost forgot about her virtue as he moved in and out of her body. She moved with him, drawing him deeper with each moan of encouragement.
