And his fantasies did not disappoint.
His hand held the small of her back with the lightest touch, meant to lead her, but in truth were he to press her closer and bring his mouth to the tempting curve of her neck, he would have stripped her bare and devoured her on the dance floor in front of the ton. A smile played at his lips. That would keep the old tongues wagging.
He viewed her now, reclined against the velvet seat, her eyes veiled by long lashes, her pink lips in a slight curve of secret bliss.
“What are you thinking about, my sweet? You look like the cat that swallowed the cream?” It was the wrong allusion and he shifted uncomfortably on the bench as restrained tension rippled through the muscles of his thighs.
“I heard some interesting tidbits about you with our last two sojourns into London.” She hadn’t opened her eyes nor turned to face him, but he could easily hear the playfulness in her voice. Good lord, he was the luckiest man in the universe.
“Really. Care to share?” He teased, dared her, actually. Two could play at her little game.
“Do you really have a mirror over your bed?” Her voice was calm, but he suspected curiosity burned for his answer.
“Preposterous rumour. Why ever would I wish to view myself while asleep?”
“Hmm. I see your point.” Her smile increased, and so did his. “And have you endeavoured engagement of intimacies while riding in your carriage? Perhaps this very carriage where we sit right now?” She ran her hand in a slow caress across the red velvet seat, and she might have stroked his skin, so much did he feel the sensation.
His voice was a low murmur when he managed an answer. “I can say with complete honesty I have never done such a wicked thing in this carriage.”
One elegant brow climbed.
“Or any other. Although the idea holds merit. Would you not agree?”
She giggled, a soft sound, and he laid his palm on her knee, covered by the folds of her gown.
“Fashion dictates all these layers, yet I can feel your touch as if your hand caressed my bare skin.”
Her whispered admission stoked the fire that consumed the small confines of the carriage. Desire, hot and hungry, leapt between them like flames in the hearth, licking the sides of the coach, and tempting them to surrender to a dangerous game.
“Let us test your theory, minx.” His fingertips inched her gown upwards. The deft endeavor exposed her ankle, calf, knee, in nothing more than a thunderous heartbeats.
“You do that exceedingly well, Your Grace.”
Her voice, a little raspy, encouraged him to continue. “Is that so?” He skimmed her calf with the back of his knuckles, and his touch burned through the silk stocking to send a shiver through her. “Exquisite, my love.”
She gasped, from his words or his caress, he had no way to know. He reached the top of her thigh, and her warmth, her silky skin against his fingertips, proved his undoing. He worked to untie the ribboned tape of her drawers, his breathing broken and forced. Lost in the moment, she reclined against the backseat, a wanton offering for his delight, and he groaned, set on devouring her bit by bit by bit.
The carriage pulled to a sudden stop and jolted them both to awareness. He cursed sharply and swallowed hard as Lexi smoothing her gown, as lost to their interlude and entranced as he.
When the footman opened the door and extended the steps, he grasped her hand, a little too hard, desperate to touch her before she disappeared into the estate, into her bed and not his. He led her down the gravel drive in silence, barely hinged on maintaining control. And when they reached the hall and Reeston took her wrap, Devlin released her arm with tangible reluctance; as if to break contact would be to obliterate the bewitching spell cast in the heady moments shared during the ride home.
Yet she did not immediately leave, his sultry temptress, and she turned to him with a glimmer of enchantment in her eye and embraced her newfound power over her very willing gentleman.
“I released Tillie this afternoon.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, although no one existed in the hallway aside from the two of them. “Would you be so kind as to help me with the lower buttons?”
“The buttons?” His heart pounded in his chest. Was he being invited to her bedchamber?
“Yes, the buttons. Troublesome, they are, the lower ones. Impossible to open, unless one takes hold and rips them apart, anxious to be out of one’s clothing.”
He went rock hard.
Any sudden response dissolved and he stared for several heavy beats of his heart, taking in every detail, revelling in the enticing woman that stood before him and played coyly at seductress.
“It would be my pleasure, milady.” His voice sounded as tight as his body. “May I find you in your bedchamber in ten minutes?”
“I will wait for you then. Try not to be late.”
He almost smiled at her boldness. “I would not dare.”
She hurried up the staircase and turned down the long hallway to her room, but he took the stairs at a slower pace. His body burned for what she offered. Wanted it like nothing he’d ever desired in his life, and he’d experienced difficult stages when he’d wished for many things. But to take what Lexi offered signified something irreversible. She was an innocent. His aunt had entrusted him with the duty of her care. He scoffed, and turned the knob to enter his bedchamber. Aunt Min must be spinning in her grave at the present pace of events.
He should go to Lexi and explain his reservations. Damn it all to hell, she would take it as rejection. It was horrid enough she’d endured whatever censure crossed her path this evening. Who knew what she’d overheard. If that wasn’t troubling enough, he’d seen Widow Penslow milling about. He hoped she was not so bold as to approach Alexandra in anger.
And yet, Lexi hadn’t complained. She’d weathered it rather well, actually. He removed his waistcoat, then his cravat, and unbuttoned his collar, his mind so muddled with pure carnal desire, he could not hold a thought long enough to see his way through. All he could envision was Lexi in the carriage, reclined against the squabs in their little game of hide-and-seek. A surge of desire begged he answer his yearning. Instead, he emptied his pockets on the bureau, the silver cinnamon tin catching the light from the single lantern. He raked his fingers through his hair and stared at his reflection in the cheval glass, the ticking of the clock on the mantel the only sound in the room other than his harsh breathing. Decision made, he walked to the door and took the steps needed to reach her chambers.
Alexandra stood in wait. Minutes passed and doubt replaced confidence. Then a nearby door sounded and she heard his footfall against the carpet of the hallway. A second later her door opened and closed.
He was there. Incredibly handsome and entirely hers. She stood motionless, in only her white silk chemise. She’d removed her stockings and slippers, even her underclothes and corset, yet her fingers shook so terribly, she’d given up on her jewellery and wore the ear bobs and pendant still. A beguiling mixture of fancy and sweet.
His shirt hung open to the waist. His skin was all carved muscle and male strength. The dark mat of hair across his chest narrowed to the band of his trousers, and further below. Her eyes followed its path and her heart beat a heavy rhythm. She’d reviewed every insult cast her way at the ball and stood determined to play the role of courtesan. She hoped she knew what to do.
She sauntered forward and raised her arms to encircle his neck, bringing his mouth to hers in fluid invitation. His lips took hers with fervour, but she withdrew as he deepened the kiss, not wishing to relinquish her newfound control. She laughed at his growl of protest, a low throaty sound, and slipped her hands into the sides of his shirt to coast across his skin, over his broad shoulders, to release the garment in one quick motion. He reached for her again and she evaded his hands.
“Oh, no, my wicked duke. Tonight I touch you.”
She hardly recognized her voice, the words low and rasping, erotic and sensual. Did he feel the sudden charge of power, the innate pr
omise of ecstasy that laced each syllable and bound them tight?
His body was magnificent. The vision of him chopping wood flittered through her memory, the line of his back and the motion of his muscles as he wielded the axe. She circled him, anxious to explore every contour. She ran her fingers across his shoulder blades, down his sides, over his ribs in pleasurable exploration. His sharp intake of breath emboldened her effort and her fingers traced a line around his waist, so very close to the edge of his trousers. He exhaled, and eyed her over his shoulder. An ebony lock of hair fell against his brow with the sudden shift of position. How she enjoyed herself now, the power at her fingertips, the ability to make Devlin tense and taut with desire, straining to remain still. She did not miss it when he fisted his hands at his sides.
She had come full circle. Her eyes gazed into his, blue to black, woman to man, and she placed her palms against his chest, the rapid beat of his heart quickening her own. She leaned in to offer a tender kiss that turned deep and inviting, and an involuntary shiver passed through her as his hands came up to hold her head. She pushed them away, so enjoying the game, and kissed him more fully, her tongue licking into his mouth as she pressed herself against him, the thin silk of her chemise hardly a barrier to the peaks of her breasts rubbing against his chest. She’d backed him to the wall and his breath came as hard as hers. He fisted a hand in her chemise to draw her closer and she feared he might tear it away, but she was too far gone to register anything besides the heat of his skin against her.
She turned her cheek to his chest, and pressed kisses, hot and soft, and then in a lesson taken from his torture, she nipped him. He groaned and the vibration against her breasts emboldened her still.
She glided her fingers to the fasteners at the top of his pants, and released each button, slowly, while she kissed him, touched him. He murmured some word of frustration and she smiled against his skin.
She reached his small clothes and ran her palm down the front in a bold move. He caught her at the wrist, his firm grasp meant to still her, and when she raised her eyes to his, his eyes searched her face, his expression unreadable.
A flicker of doubt bloomed in her heart and she lowered her gaze to his chest, suddenly unsure. “Am I hurting you?” She whispered it against his skin, afraid of his answer.
“Hurting me?” he rasped. “Your delicious little hands will be the death of me.” He drew several measured breaths before he continued. “Are you sure this is what you want?’
“With all my heart.” She went up on tiptoe and pressed a resolute kiss to his mouth before going down on her knees before him. Perhaps he did not expect it because he jerked forward, his body rigid, his fingers threaded through her hair. She ran her hands down the sides of his legs and around to his backside to relax him as she slid his small clothes away.
She’d seen the male form before, but nothing prepared her for the complete fascination of Devlin aroused. Her tentative fingers wrapped around his hard, smooth flesh. He jerked forward. Her eyes flew upward.
Then he sank his fingers into her hair and let out an intimate growl that encouraged her to explore, to slide her hand against him and feel the complete strength held in her palm. He was velvety smooth and incredibly hot; and when her finger caught on the tip of him, and coasted over the drop of moisture there, she glanced up to him with all the love in her heart.
His head was thrown back against the wall, his muscles tensed and his arms braced. She waited not another breath and lowered her mouth upon him.
“Oh God, Lexi …” The sound came from somewhere deep and it didn’t sound like his voice, fraught with emotion. His fingers tightened in her hair, the sensation causing her body to tremor.
She drew on his flesh and he shuddered, but she was equally affected. Her wet mouth on his smooth hot skin caused the slow burn of desire to ignite and surge within. She revelled in the intimacy of the act, and rubbed her tongue along his length to suck more steadily and stoke the fire consuming her core with heat. His body met her motion and she held fast, one hand at the base of him, the other laid against his hip. Her lips encased his sex with each stroke and she thrilled in the way he seized as she rose to the tip, his forceful exhale as she slid her mouth slowly down his length. It was incredibly intimate, and she believed her heart might break from the pure joy of it.
“Lexi …” One word, a plea more than anything else, as his hands found her shoulders. She released him and his fingers cupped her chin.
“Am I not doing it right?” It was as if everything depended on his answer.
“It is so right, I could die from it.” He pulled her up and she allowed it, his mouth eager to plunder hers, hot and fervent, and intertwine her tongue in a dance that gave as much as it took.
They found their way to the bed, although she could never tell how, their kissing, touching, stroking caresses urgent, almost frantic, as if neither of them could get close enough or feel enough.
He fell back upon the mattress and took her with him, her body against his. She rose up to straddle him, the heat of her thighs encasing the sides of his body. She removed her chemise in one smooth movement so no clothing remained.
His eyes matched hers in a reverent caress. Then slowly, his gaze travelled her body, down her neck, across her breasts, lower still. He reached forward and flicked a finger against one of her earrings. “This is my favourite outfit.” And then he chuckled, and the rumble of his laughter vibrated inside her core.
Another breath, and all humour evaporated. She leaned forward and the tips of her breasts grazed over his chest in a sensual pattern of love play. His hands found her waist and lifted her forward with no effort, each peak in turn to his mouth. He tasted her, licked and feasted, until he turned her, his body encasing hers, his arousal rubbing intimately against the flat of her belly before he slid to her side.
He captured her lips in another deep kiss and his tongue thrust into her mouth with the same insistence of his fingers as they glided between the folds of her sex, her wet slick skin welcoming him. She yearned for release, the tight coil of desire that had built since they’d danced now demanded relief. He rubbed her expertly, little circles of ecstasy, the way he knew she liked it and she told him so, as he stroked her, his fingertip pressed against her peak in exquisite pleasure. Her body quivered in answer and she whimpered, restless on the bed sheets, and anxious for what he offered. He dipped a finger inside her, the movement slow and careful as if she’d break with the action and she raised her hips in rebellion, unsure of what she wanted but desperate just the same. He pressed his finger deeper, two fingers, sliding into her tightness and the sweet rhythm increased each time he pushed her further. Her muscles contracted, pulling with each caress, sheathing his fingers, sliding, rubbing, and she watched him watch her with eyes barely open, just enough to see him above her, touching her. Her eyes held his, this man before her that could open her and touch her and make her feel that nothing mattered except the two of them together in each other’s arms.
And then all thought was gone. With the flick of his fingertip her world unravelled, leaving only sensations of sheer bliss. She arched with pleasure, his name a breathless sigh in a voice she barely recognized as her own, as if she drifted above the clouds and gradually returned to earth on waves of sensual delight.
She rolled towards him, seeking warmth in his embrace, her trembling body caressed against his arousal, solid and heavy against her skin. She folded her hand around his length and gently brought his sex against her own, but Devlin pulled back. Her eyes shot to his in question.
“There is no returning from that act. There is no undoing.”
He murmured the words, barely, but she heard them nonetheless and his reluctance cut to her heart. He considered her temporary. Still she pushed the thought away, too conflicted to consider it, determined to give him all the emotion in her heart.
She closed her fingers and demanded his attention in a dominant grasp. He was gloriously hard and hot and ready; and she str
oked him as if he was hers to conquer, and there was no world or words beyond the bed. She watched as his body grew tight with increasing need in response to each rhythmic stroke of her palm. She ravished his mouth with a kiss meant to push him further, her tongue thrusting inside, insisting he return the parry. Meanwhile her fingers urged him to find release. She worked him to the point of intensity and revelled in it, as his body pulsed one last time. He shook with ferocity, a primal groan on his lips. Then he pulled her atop of him, his arm wrapped tight around her waist, and he spilled himself against her skin and took her with him over the edge.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They walked in the garden in need of fresh air after a competitive game of chess held them hostage for much of the afternoon. Sunlight danced in shadow and light as Alexandra moved along the trellis-lined path, the subtle hum of a dragonfly or the insistent bumble an occasional visitor. Most of the blooms had begun to fade, but with spontaneous determination, a primrose or clematis flower dotted the walkway in vivid brilliance.
When they began down the slates, she hid a confident smile at Devlin’s mutterings in review of the moves he should have played differently, but now the disconsolate silence led her thoughts in a new direction. King ambled beside them and Just Henry ran ahead as they rounded the garden fountain. She moved to a marble bench, impatient and uneasy with the stilted silence.
They hadn’t spoken about the night before, neither one of them anxious to bring the subject to bear and she refused to ponder the result of their intimacy in a negative light. They’d stayed in bed until morning, kissing and caressing, but when the sun rose, Devlin returned to his rooms, his emotions again locked away, as detached from himself as the reality of their evening.
Duke of Darkness Page 20
