Two Shades of Seduction

by Monica Burns

  “Thank you,” she said as heat rose in her face.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said with a grin that had a boyish quality as he drew her to a halt. “It won’t arrive until after lunch, but I thought you might want to be dressed to greet it.”

  “Dressed?” She looked at him dismay. “Oh, you haven’t invited someone to call have you? I’m not ready for the onslaught of prying eyes.”

  “No, although that’s something we won’t be able to put off much longer.” He said quietly before his grin returned. “No, your visitor is actually going to be a permanent resident in the keep’s stables.”

  “Augustus?” Sophie exclaimed with happiness. She’d thought he’d forgotten.

  “Yes, Augustus.” He laughed at her excitement then frowned with annoyance. “Your father nearly drove me bankrupt to acquire that brute of a stallion, but my agent finally got the man to sell the horse. I only wish I could see his face when he discovers I’m the one who bought the animal.”

  “Oh, Quentin.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him as tears blurred her vision. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “I’m certain I’ll think of something,” he said with a chuckle. Quentin’s expression quickly turned serious. “But you’re not to ride without me. I don’t want something happening to you.

  “I’m fully capable of handling Augustus.”

  “It’s not the horse I’m worried about. If your father sees you riding the horse, he’s apt to harm you, and I refused to let that happen.”

  “All right,” she said with a nod as her heart felt as though it had expanded to twice its normal size. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled as he pulled her arm through his and they continued along the garden path.

  They walked in silence for several moments, until Sophie saw the small fountain she’d discovered during her explorations a few days ago. Overgrown with weeds from what had once been a floral bed, the fount was as dry as the pool it sat in. It reminded her that she’d yet to broach any mention of the keep’s restoration for fear of troubling him with financial matters. Aware that she’d put off the conversation long enough, she pointed toward the dry fountain.

  “I imagine the fountain must have been quite beautiful once.” Her observation made Quentin stop to stare at the desolate looking fount, his jovial mood disintegrating.

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “It was one of my mother’s favorite additions to the gardens. She saw one like it when she and Father traveled to New York when I was quite young.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said with remorse at the sorrowful twist of his lips.

  “For what?” He turned his head to stare at her in puzzlement.

  “It wasn’t my intent to remind you of your loss. You must miss your parents very much.”

  “Yes.” Quentin nodded his head. “I had a remarkably happy childhood. Despite their arranged marriage, my parents loved each other deeply. I had once thought I’d found that as well, but I was wrong.”

  The veiled reference to Eleanor twisted something deep inside Sophie. Her stepsister had hurt Quentin deeply. So much so that it was unlikely he would ever come to love her. She stiffened at the thought. What on earth had possessed her to think such a thing? Their relationship would last until he wearied of a wife so much older than himself. Eager to distance herself from the thought, she smiled at him.

  “I have a feeling you were a rather mischievous little boy.”

  “Quite.” Quentin’s mouth curved in a wicked grin. “In fact, my mother often despaired of my boyhood pranks, but my father reassured her I would outgrow them.”

  “I’m not so sure you did,” Sophie said with a laugh. He chuckled and winked at her.

  “I think you’re right.”

  Silence drifted between them again. It was a comfortable one that enveloped her with warmth. With her arm entwined in Quentin’s, she took pleasure in the way his hand rested on hers. It was a possessive touch that shot a small thrill through her. There had been many other moments like this over the past few weeks. While Quentin was an attentive lover, he had proven to be a companion she enjoyed spending time with. In some ways, it was like having a lover who was her friend as well. But friends didn’t lie to each other. Sophie winced at the thought then quickly shoved her secret into the dark recesses of her mind. She wasn’t ready to destroy the harmony that existed between them. But the longer you wait, Sophie, the worse the destruction.

  “I imagine your childhood was far from pleasant,” he said.

  “My father was not as forgiving as yours,” she said quietly as she remembered all the times she’d committed some error and the price she paid when her father discovered her transgression.

  “Yet he forgave Eleanor and your brother easily.”

  It was a deduction more than a question, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him studying her with curiosity. For a brief moment, she struggled with telling him the truth. She knew he was entitled to know what she was, but she couldn’t bear to have him despise her. He would believe she’d married him under false pretenses. The thought destroyed what little courage she possessed.

  “Yes, he forgave them easily, although Spencer felt the back of my father’s hand on occasion.” Sophie almost choked on her words as she spoke of the baron as though he really were her father.

  “And your mother?” Quentin’s question awoke the deep sadness she always felt whenever she thought of her mother.

  “She died when I was seven.” Sophie heard the catch in her voice and swallowed her tears. “I have few memories of her, but I loved her very much.”

  “Perhaps your father was angry because you lived and your mother didn’t.” Skepticism underlined Quentin’s words. It was obvious he didn’t believe his own theory. Without thinking, Sophie shook her head.

  “No, he hated me because—” She abruptly halted in mid-sentence. Dear God, she’d almost revealed the truth. She kept her gaze averted from him to hide her deception. “Their marriage was an arranged one. He didn’t love my mother, and I was a reminder of her.”

  “And he shifted his contempt for your mother to you.”

  “I’m certain he believed his reasons were valid ones.” Her response was greeted by a noise of disgust.

  “An honorable man would never willingly inflict pain on an innocent child no matter what the mother’s sins.”

  Quentin’s odd statement made her stiffen with alarm. Did he know the truth? No, how could he? Unless Spencer—no, her brother wouldn’t reveal such a thing, especially to a man he harbored little regard for. Besides, that day at the woodcutter’s cottage was the only opportunity her brother and Quentin had been alone together. And even then the two of them had been out of earshot for just a few short minutes.

  There would have been no time for such a sensitive topic. She turned her head to look at Quentin. He was staring at the path in front of them with an unreadable expression on his face when he suddenly pulled her to a halt and forced her to face him.

  “Know this Sophie, I might have the reputation of a scoundrel, but I will never raise a hand in anger to you or our children.” It was an earnest promise that warmed Sophie in a way that made her heart skip a beat before reality reared its ugly head.

  “I have no doubt your skills as a father would be exceptional.”

  “Would be?” A strange glint darkened his green eyes. “Are you suggesting we won’t have any children?”

  “I am a realist as to the possibility,” she said pragmatically. “After all, my age is a great hindrance to the possibility.”

  “Damn it to hell, Sophie. You’re not too old to have a child. All it takes is one time.” His words made her laugh.

  “If that were true, it wouldn’t be for your lack of trying,” she said mischievously. For a moment he stared at her with his jaw sagging. His astonishment vanished quickly as a teasing smile curled his lips.

  “Then perhaps we should try more often,” he chuckled, and
his gaze drifted along the pathway to the small gazebo she’d discovered the first day she’d visited the garden. Her eyes widen with surprise as he smiled at her with wicked amusement. Surely, he wasn’t suggesting they…with a vehement shake of her head, she sniffed.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s broad daylight out. If it were in the dark, it might be—”

  “If we enjoy ourselves now, we can return when the moon is full.”

  “It’s not done, Quentin,” she snapped as his hand pulled her down the path toward the gazebo. “What if someone comes along?”

  “Then they’ll know how much I enjoy spending time in my wife’s arms. Something few men can say.”

  His response caught her off guard, and she stumbled as he pulled her into the secluded gazebo. Surrounded by tall hedges and a small copse of trees, the lattice-enclosed building was barely visible from the path, and it conveyed a mental image of seductive secrets and illicit rendezvouses.

  “You can’t possibly mean to do this,” she exclaimed as he grasped her waist and pressed her back into one of the structure’s columns.

  She tried to push away from the column, but he caught her hands and pressed them into the cool wood above her head. When she tried to break free again, he pressed his body into hers, effectively pinning her to the column.

  “What is it you think I’m going to do, my darling wife?”

  The whispered words in her ear made her heart slam to a stop. It was the first time he’d ever used such an intimate endearment with such emphasis. Did he even realize he’d done so? Every thought flew out of her head the moment his warm breath tickled her neck and his mouth worked its way downward to brush the underside of her jaw. A small moan escaped her lips as he lowered his head further and slid his tongue in between her breasts in a decadent stroke that reminded her of other moments when he’d worked a similar magic between her thighs.

  “Shall I tell you what I’m going to do with you, Sophie?” One hand cupped the back of her head while his lips brushed the tops of her breasts. “I’m going to expand your knowledge today.”

  “I don’t understand,” she rasped.

  “You’ll see,” he murmured as he kissed the side of her mouth, and she could feel the way his lips curled upward in that wicked smile of his.

  The moment his tongue slipped into her mouth, she was lost. Whenever he kissed her like this, she found it impossible to think straight. Deep inside, she knew it would only make things more difficult when they parted ways, but she was never able to distance herself from his caresses. It wasn’t until he guided her hand downward to grasp his hard length that she realized he’d freed his erection from his trousers.

  Shocked by his brazen behavior, her eyes flew open to look into his emerald gaze. His eyes had darkened to that familiar shade of green whenever he was on the verge of pleasuring her. Desire welled up inside her, and she tightened her hold on him until he released a slow, dark groan.

  “Christ Jesus, that feels good, my sweet. But I want more from you.” Green eyes blazing with a fiery need, he gently forced her down to her knees. “Take me in your mouth, sweetheart. I want to feel your lips wrapped around my cock until I’m ready to come.”

  She froze. The idea was so decadently sinful she wasn’t certain she’d heard him correctly. It wasn’t the first time she’d touched him with her hand, but he’d never asked her to take him into her mouth. Not even the language he’d used in the bedroom had ever been as naughty as this.

  Quentin shifted his hips back and forth so his erection moved in her hands. A dark look of desire intensified the white line of his scarred cheek as his fiery gaze met hers. Unable to look away from him, she slowly leaned forward and tentatively slid her tongue over the tip of his hard length. His jaw was a hard line of tension, and their gazes locked as she widened her exploration of him.

  He was hard, yet velvety smooth, against her tongue. A slight musky scent tickled her nose, as she dragged her tongue along the bottom of his erection all the way up to the rounded tip of him. A deep groan rolled out of him, and the expression on his face was one of tortured impatience. He jumped against her mouth, and she saw a small white bead form on the tip of him. It was salty on her tongue. She drew away from him, and he jerked his gaze downward.

  “God Almighty, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Don’t stop now.”

  “Are you sure,” she murmured as a sudden sense of power flowed through her. The Devil of Devlyn was at her mercy.

  “Are you asking me to beg,” he growled. The look of rebellion on his face warred with his desire.

  “No, I simply like knowing I have your full attention.”

  Without warning, she parted her lips and took him into her mouth. He jerked violently against her, and he leaned forward to brace himself on the column behind her. Pleasure had tightened his facial expression, and it encouraged her to tighten her lips around him. The growl rumbling out of him was powerful and dark.

  Slowly, she began to slide her mouth back and forth, and she heard the sharp hiss of him sucking in a sharp breath of air. She pulled back to the tip of him, and a groan of protest echoed above her head as she released him then blew a breath of air over his damp flesh. Her gaze swung upward to see his eyes closed, his head thrown backward, and a look of intense pleasure on his face. He seemed to harden even more in her mouth as she swirled her tongue over his erection. Suddenly, he jerked away from her and tugged her to her feet. Startled, she gasped her protest as he pulled up the front of her skirts and slid his hands under her buttocks. A second later, he lifted her with her back pressed into the column, and he parted her undergarments then buried himself inside her. He seemed like a man out of control as he thrust into her. He was hot, thick, and powerful inside her. As her insides clenched around him in reaction to his possession, her fingers dug into his shoulders as her climax took hold and she shattered over him. Less than a second later, he uttered a low cry as he slammed into her one last time and remained shuddering inside her. Sophie’s face fell into his neck and she sighed softly.

  “I might have been wrong about the gazebo not being a suitable place for seeking pleasure.”

  “I thought you might,” he said with a soft chuckle as he kissed her earlobe. “And for all we know, a babe might have been conceived here.”

  “Oh Dear Lord.” Her exclamation of dismay made him laugh.

  “I shall soon rid you of all your inhibitions, my darling wife. Your passionate nature demands that I corrupt you completely.”

  It was the second time he’d used the intimate endearment, and she drew in a quick breath of surprise. Her gaze met his, and she saw a flash of emotion darken his emerald gaze before he captured her lips in a hard kiss. She was on the verge of surrendering once more when an odd sound pulled her attention away from Quentin’s kiss. When she realized the sound was a voice, she stiffened. With a quick shove, she pushed her way out of his arms and titled her head to hear better. Again, she heard the voice only it was closer now.

  “Oh my God, it’s Spencer.”

  “It’s not as if we’re unmarried, my sweet.” Quentin chuckled as he nuzzled the top of her breasts with his mouth.

  “Married or not, I’ll not have him thinking I lift my skirts for you in a public place.”

  “I think that would be a rather tame display compared to your beautiful lips wrapped around my cock.”

  The teasing laughter in his voice appalled and amused her at the same time. Her brother’s voice called out for them again from a short distance away. With a hard shove, she pushed Quentin away from her. Desperate not to have Spencer think the worst, she quickly shook out her skirts, ignoring the sticky dampness between her legs. A quick glance at Quentin showed him watching her with amusement and with his trousers splayed open. Spencer’s voice echoed just a few short feet away, and Sophie glared at her husband.

  “Blast it, Quentin, you must dress.”

  “Must I?” He arrogantly arched his eyebrows at her. “Perhaps I should just shout out to tell
your brother to go away as I am being pleasured by my wife.”

  “Yes, you must,” she snapped as she lunged forward to clasp his face in her hands and kissed him hard. She stepped back a short moment later and glared at him. “And if you do not make yourself presentable, I swear I’ll refuse to taste your cock in the future.”

  She ignored his stunned expression and fled from the gazebo out onto the pathway. Spencer was less than a hundred yards away from the structure, and she hurried forward to greet her brother. The last thing she wanted was for Spencer to think badly of Quentin. Outside of her husband, Spencer was the only other family she had. She didn’t want to be forced into making a choice between her brother and the man she loved.

  Horrified, Sophie came to a stumbling halt, her feet almost giving way from under her. The air drained from her lungs as she fought the nausea churning in her stomach. Dear God, how could she have committed such folly? She was mad. She had to be.

  Only a madwoman would fall in love with the Devil of Devlyn Keep. Mad or not, she couldn’t deny the inevitable. She’d done the one thing she’d sworn not to do. She’d fallen in love with her husband, and the price she’d pay would be a painful one when he walked away.

  In front of her, Spencer greeted her with a look of concern, and she summoned all her courage to hide her secret from him. She forced a smile to her lips, and warmly greeted her brother.

  “Spencer, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “From the look on your face, I’m not so sure. Are you all right, Phee? You look extremely pale.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. She was far from fine. “How did you know where to find us—me?”

  “Mr. Fischer indicated you and Devlyn were in the garden, and I decided I would just come find you.”

  “And so you’ve found us,” she declared gaily. Spencer’s eyebrows arched in exaggerated surprise. Immediately, she realized her behavior was too frenetic, and she struggled to regain her composure.

  “Yes.” Spencer said with a wry smile. “Here I am.”

  Sophie stared at her brother for a long moment, terrified her face would reveal a secret even darker than the one she’d kept from Quentin. Spencer leaned toward her.