Lord of Fortune

by Darcy Burke

  She closed the door, plunging them into darkness without the light from the sconce in the corridor. “I came to see you.”

  “Well, that’s obvious. Why?”

  She followed him into the room and promptly stubbed her toe on something. “Ow. Do you suppose you could light a candle?”

  A moment later, she heard flint, and a candle sputtered to life. She took in her surroundings—Penn’s bedchamber. She’d stubbed her toe on the chair set in front of a writing desk. The candle sat on a nightstand on the other side of his bed. He sprawled in a wingbacked chair set in front of a dark hearth, his long legs stretched before him. He drank from a glass dangling from his fingertips.

  Tightening the tie of her dressing gown, Amelia ventured farther into his room. There wasn’t a chair for her to sit in, unless she wanted to pull the desk chair over to the hearth. Which she might, if he gave her any indication he wanted her to stay. Right now, she assumed he was moments from banishing her.

  She took up a position near the corner of his bed, less than a couple of dozen inches from his bare feet. He wore only his breeches that stretched just past his knees and a shirt that had been pulled from the waistband and was, of course, open at the neck absent a cravat. She was seeing far more of Penn Bowen than she ever had before, and her body was well aware of it, reacting with heat and desire. She shoved it aside. Now was not the time for such distractions. “Your mother told me about the Earl of Stratton.”

  His gaze, still dark and tormented, lifted to hers. “You mean me?”

  “No, I meant the prior earl.”

  “But the issue is me, isn’t it?” He tipped the cup back into his mouth, draining whatever was inside. Then he set the empty tumbler down onto the hearth to his left.

  “Yes. I can imagine—”

  “Can you?” he snapped. “Can you really imagine how this feels? My entire life has been upended. Hell, my entire life is a bloody lie.” He jumped to his feet and prowled past her.

  She turned as he walked by, her body tense and on edge as she witnessed this new side of him. He’d always been genial and unflappable—even when they’d been tied up by brigands. But this was something wholly different, and she knew it.

  “I know,” she said quietly. “That’s why I can only imagine how this feels. And what I imagine is that you’re devastated.”

  He paced on the opposite side of the bed but said nothing. Just when she was about to move toward him, he came around the bed in a flash, stopping right in front of her. “Devastated is a good word. Also furious. And heartbroken. My parents knew all this time and never told me.”

  Heartbroken. Hearing him say that twisted her heart too.

  “I’m sure they had a good reason.”

  He let out a derisive snort. “Can you think of one?”

  She could but wasn’t sure he really wanted her to answer. “They wished to keep it a secret from Stratton? He doesn’t sound like a very nice person.”

  “Yes, that’s their reasoning. But why not trust me with this life-altering, future-changing secret?” His eyes blazed with anger as he leaned toward her. “Why let me create a life as a scholar and an adventurer knowing I was going to have to cast it all aside to become a fucking earl?”

  His crude language jabbed at her, but she didn’t blame him. It only made her want to soothe him even more. Before she could say a word, however, he continued his ranting. “I don’t want that life. I want the life I already have. I like that life. Especially since you came into it.”

  His fury melted into something else—a heat she felt into her bones as he stared at her with desperation. She touched his face, feeling the scrape of his beard emerging along his jaw. “Penn—”

  “That’s not even my name.” His voice was rough and sad. “It’s William. My mother changed it to some place we visited—Pennard. I’d forgotten that until today.”

  “You shall always be Penn to me,” she said softly, caressing his cheek.

  “Penn, your partner?” he asked huskily.

  She dragged her hand along his jaw and brushed the pad of her thumb over his lips. “My partner. My friend. My lover.” She infused the last with a bit of a question, holding her breath as she waited for his response.

  His gaze speared into hers before he drew her thumb into his mouth, licking her flesh with his tongue. Then his hands came around her waist, and he pulled her to his chest. He released her thumb from his lips. “You’re certain? Because I am on the edge of so many emotions right now. Rejection is not something I want to contemplate.”

  She brought her other hand up between them and cupped his face. “I’ve never been more certain of anything.” And it was true. She wanted him with the ferocity she saw reflected in his gaze. “I don’t think I could handle rejection either—if you recall, you’re the one who pulled away last night. I’m the one who opened my door to hopefully persuade you to change your mind.”

  “Bloody hell, I mangled that,” he whispered. “Not tonight. Tonight, I’m yours. Completely.”

  “Then I shall take you.”

  Chapter 11

  All the anguish and anger and despair washed away the moment her lips touched his. Penn crushed her against him, desperate to feel every part of her. He stabbed his tongue into her mouth, also desperate to taste her. He relented slightly, thinking he mustn’t be so…savage.

  But her hands curled around to the back of his neck, her fingers digging into his flesh. Her tongue slashed against his with its own fierceness, encouraging his ardor.

  God, how he wanted her. He hadn’t realized just how badly until that moment. Or maybe because of that moment. He didn’t think he’d ever needed someone more. Not just any someone, her. She’d come to him when he needed her most and was now offering herself as a balm.

  Wait. He couldn’t take her like that.

  He dragged his mouth from hers. “Amelia,” he breathed, trying to slow his thundering heart. “I can’t—”

  “Are you rejecting me? I thought we said we weren’t doing that.”

  He saw frustration spitting in the depths of her gaze. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, truly.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “And what is that?”

  In the face of her anger, he felt uncertain. “Making me feel better?”

  Her brows angled over her eyes in a deep V. “Pennard Bowen, if you think this is about making you feel better, you’re incredibly obtuse. This is about me wanting you. Desperately. And I thought it was about you wanting me.”

  Desperately? Oh God, he hadn’t been prepared for that. For her.

  “How much more plain do I need to be?” She took her hands from around his neck and slipped them down between them. His breath caught in expectation, but she only untied her dressing gown. Still, watching the garment slide from her body to the floor was enough to make his cock go completely hard. She stood before him in her thin nightgown, the slope of her breasts and the dip of her waist tantalizing in the candlelight. Then she did the unthinkable. She lifted the hem of her gown and drew it over her head, baring herself completely to his starving gaze.

  Arching her brow at him, she gave him a seductive half smile. “Do you have any questions now?”

  He let his gaze devour her, feasting on her creamy breasts tipped with dark pink nipples and drifting lower to the plane of her abdomen to where it met the thatch of blonde curls cloaking her sex. His mouth went dry.

  Why? No, he didn’t want to ask that. He knew they wanted each other, and that was enough for tonight. He shook his head as he reached for her, splaying his hands against her back and drawing her against his chest.

  Her breasts connected with him, and he groaned softly before kissing her again. She opened her mouth beneath his as she clutched at his shirtfront, her fingernails grazing his chest as she fisted the linen. Her tongue met his with eager strokes as they explored each other. There were no barriers tonight, no uncertainty, just blissful connection and mutual need.

  He moved her
around the end of the bed, steering her to the side of the mattress. She was warm and soft against him. And he was wearing too damn many clothes.

  As if she’d heard his thoughts, she pushed her hands up under his shirt and skimmed her palms over his abdomen. His muscles tightened in response, and he deepened their kiss.

  She curled her fingertips into his chest, then flattened her hands over his nipples. Sensation sparked through him, and he hastened to pull his shirt over his head and cast it aside.

  With the kiss broken, she bent her head to his torso and licked at his flesh. With a growl, he turned her and guided her backward onto the bed. She lay before him, her body gleaming and beautiful in the candlelight.

  Her eyes slitted as she looked up at him. Her lips were parted, beckoning him with a silent siren’s song. But he didn’t want her mouth. Not just then.

  He bent over her and took her nipple between his lips, sucking softly before he licked gently. She arched up off the bed with a moan. He clamped down hard, taking what she offered. What she seemed to know he needed.

  He cupped her other breast, using his thumb and forefinger to tease the nipple into a hard, delicious point. Desperate to taste that one too, he moved his focus, her soft cries and moans a sensual accompaniment to his feast.

  “Penn.” She said his name. Then again. Then a thousand times. He didn’t know. He only knew how she felt, how she sounded, how she tasted.

  He trailed his lips and tongue down her abdomen, licking a path between her ribs and over her navel, darting his tongue inside briefly before he continued toward the greatest prize.

  He stroked his fingers over her sex, teasing the silky folds before using his thumb to press on her clitoris. She cried out as her hips thrust into his hand. He blew on her heated flesh, his fingers parting her.

  “Penn?”

  He was vaguely aware that his name was a question. “Hmmm?” He licked at her clitoris, and she bucked up, surprising him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked sharply, pulling him from his sexual haze.

  He clasped her hip and massaged her flesh as he looked up at her over the peaks and valleys of her torso. “Giving you pleasure. Have you not done this before?”

  She shook her lifted head.

  He shouldn’t think ill of the dead, but her husband was a selfish prick. Not to mention an idiot for denying himself one of life’s greatest joys. He gave her an encouraging smile as he traced his fingertips over her mound, staying to the outside but circling inward bit by bit. “Do you mind if I kiss you here?”

  “I— It seems scandalous.”

  “Of course it is. Anything that feels this good is scandalous, isn’t it? Will you trust me to give you pleasure?”

  She hesitated briefly before nodding.

  “Oh good. I promise you won’t regret it.” He smiled wickedly before swirling his thumb over her clitoris and licking her deeply. As his tongue flicked inside, her hand clasped at the back of his head. Her legs, tense a moment ago, relaxed briefly before tensing again. But this time, he knew it was for a different reason. He could feel the pleasure building inside her, in the movement of her hips and the intensity of her cries.

  He reversed his hand and mouth, spearing his finger into her sheath as he sucked at her nub. Moving between her legs, he positioned them over his shoulders and buried his tongue deep inside her. She arched up, thrusting against him. He held on to her with one hand and used the other to coax her orgasm. She was so close, he could taste it.

  And then she was there. Her muscles clenched around him, and she made a sound that was nearly inhuman—a high-pitched keen that made him smile. She thrust up, and then he felt her body relax. Light quivers danced along her thighs as she recovered.

  Penn stood up and peeled his breeches away. She rotated on the bed, lying lengthwise, and reached for him. He lay down next to her, his body eager. But he wanted to give her a moment. He could wait. He’d wait as long as necessary.

  She cupped the back of his head and drew him down to kiss her. Sliding her tongue into his mouth, she hesitated briefly, likely tasting herself, but then plunged forward. He found her nipple with his fingers and tugged gently at her flesh before rolling it and pulling once more.

  Then her hand closed around his cock, and logical thought fled his brain. She stroked his length, loosening and tightening in perfect succession as she moved along his flesh. At the base, she squeezed, her fingertips grazing his balls. God, he was going to explode like a green boy.

  “Amelia,” he murmured.

  “You’ll take precautions?” she asked.

  Precautions…yes. He was glad she mentioned it. He always did, but damn, he was completely lost in her.

  Her hand wrapped around the stem of his cock, she gently urged him toward her. He moved over her, settling between her legs, which she bent up as she guided him to her sex. She was hot and wet, and he could barely wait to drive inside her.

  Somehow, he went slowly, sinking into her flesh inch by inch until he was seated to the hilt. She wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her hands up his back to clasp his shoulders. “Move.”

  Her single command sent blood rushing to his cock. He needed no further urging. Withdrawing, he thrust back in. She took him deep, her legs clenching around him.

  “Faster.”

  He tried to keep control, to set a pace that wouldn’t scare her.

  “Penn, I want you to move.”

  Apparently, she knew far better than he did. He gave up trying to hold back and let himself go. He snapped his hips into hers, driving hard and fast. His control was lost, his desire spiraling beyond his grasp. She met him stroke for stroke, her hips rising off the bed. Her sheath constricted around him as she came again.

  Rapture pushed him to the very edge of sanity. Before he tumbled into the darkness, he remembered to pull out. He shouted as his orgasm tore through him, and he spilled his seed on her belly.

  Out of breath, he rolled to her side, gasping. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Sorry. For the. Mess.”

  She stroked her fingers along his bicep. “I never conceived with my husband, but we weren’t even together a year. I thought it best to be cautious.”

  “You’re a very smart woman. But that’s one of the reasons I like you so much.” He rolled from the bed and went to his dressing area. Behind a screen was a dresser with a basin. He poured water into it and dampened a cloth before returning to the bed.

  “Here.” He handed her the linen to tidy herself and turned his back to offer her some privacy.

  “You don’t have to turn away,” she said. “After…that, I don’t think I can be shy.”

  “You’re a remarkable woman, Amelia.” He rotated and took the cloth from her when she was finished. After cleaning himself and disposing of the soiled linen behind the screen, he returned to the bed.

  “I suppose I should return to my room,” she said softly.

  He lay down on his side and reached out to smooth a strand of hair that had come loose from her braid away from her forehead. “Do you regret coming?”

  “Not at all.”

  “What I should have asked is if you regret staying.”

  “My answer is the same.” Her brows gathered, and she scooted closer to him. Smoothing her fingertips over his forehead, she whispered. “Try to sleep. I know there’s a tumult inside your head, but there’s nothing to be done right now. You can seek your answers tomorrow.”

  Answers. He wasn’t sure there were any. Just horrible, immutable truths. He leaned over and kissed her, their lips gently touching. “Thank you. Will you stay? For a little while?”

  “For a little while.” She worked to pull down the covers so they could slide between them. Once they were nestled inside, he drew her close against him and brushed his lips against her hair. She’d bathed earlier.

  “You smell like honeysuckle and sunshine.” Happiness.

  She inhaled. “You smell like grass and pine.”

  “I was outsi
de for quite a while.”

  She nuzzled closer against him. “Did it help?”

  “Yes.” But not as much as this. As her.

  That thought stuck with him as he drifted to sleep.

  * * *

  Consciousness stole over Penn with the languor of a kitten stretching in the sunlight. He was warm with contentment, his lips curving into a smile as he recalled last night with Amelia. Reaching for her, he felt nothing but the cold bed next to him.

  His eyes flew open, and he sat up straight, the covers dropping to his waist. His heart, which had started to beat faster at finding her gone, began to slow. Of course she was gone. She couldn’t exactly wake up in his bed this morning.

  And it was morning, wasn’t it?

  He threw the covers back and stepped out of bed, crossing to the window and peering through the slit in the curtains. Yes, morning, but early.

  The rest of yesterday—the bad part—rushed over him like a massive wave on the Cornish coast. He was a bloody fucking earl.

  He thrust the thought away, willing himself to think of Amelia instead. He washed and dressed before prowling down the backstairs to the kitchen. He’d taken that route more times than he could count—more times than he’d taken the stairs he ought. But this morning he wasn’t avoiding detection so he could sneak to the larder for a sweet. He wanted to avoid seeing his parents because he was still furious.

  Unfortunately, the moment he stepped into the kitchen, that objective was utterly smashed.

  His father stood at the worktable in the center of the room, his head snapping up and his dark eyes focusing on Penn. A blend of regret and relief mixed in their depths. “I’m pleased to see you. I hope you slept well, but I suspect you didn’t.” There was no relief in that statement however, just a heavy sadness.

  Penn had slept better than he ought, because of Amelia, but he wouldn’t tell his father that. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. If you’re looking for absolution, I’m afraid you won’t find it from me.”

  His father nodded slowly, his expression tight and pained. “I don’t expect to. You’re angry, and you’ve every right to be, but someday I hope you’ll understand that I was only protecting you. And following your mother’s dying wish.”