His Wicked Heart

by Darcy Burke

  Jasper’s hands were fisted, but he listened in stoic silence.

  “Louisa sent someone to Devon to speak to my foster parents, but my uncle had died, and my aunt had relocated to Cheshunt. I went to visit her to tell her Merry was my father. She’d been so furious upon learning of her husband’s infidelity and that he’d sired a child with my mother. I wanted to alleviate her pain, but she insisted Louisa was mistaken, that her husband was my father, not Merry. Neither my aunt nor Louisa could verify my paternity beyond a doubt, so when we got back to Town I talked to people who knew my mother before I was born. I was hoping one of them would know the definitive truth.”

  “But none of them did.” His voice was flat, emotionless. At least he didn’t sound angry anymore.

  Olivia’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Retelling this only underscored the fact that she’d never know the truth. She looked down at her hands. “There’s a third man, an actor. And who knows how many more.” Tears threatened, but she refused to break down in front of him. He likely hated her after discovering yet another lie and wanted her as far away from the only person who’d probably ever truly loved her.

  She regarded him with a pleading look. She may not want to cry in front of him, but she had no problem begging. This was too important. “Please don’t ask me to leave Louisa. She wants me to stay, and I want to, too.”

  He said nothing and the silence grew until it filled the room as if it were another being.

  His brows were drawn, and his hands were still fisted. He didn’t look as angry as before, but lines of anguish bracketed his mouth. “Why did you give yourself to me?”

  She hadn’t expected that question, wasn’t sure how to answer it. At length she said, “I needed you.” It was the most honest thing she’d ever told him.

  “You have no ulterior motive? No scheme to somehow trick me?”

  Of course he would go back to that. He still hadn’t forgiven her for trying to swindle him. She shook her head. “No, nothing.” She still wanted him. Boldly, she stepped toward him. “There are no tricks, no plots, just me wanting you.”

  He flinched. “How can I trust you?”

  “I swear there are no more secrets between us. I’ve told you everything, more than I’ve ever shared with anyone. No one knows about my mother, about my aunt, about my…shame.”

  She watched the emotions play across his face as he hesitated—compassion, wariness, determination. Finally, desire. He took two steps and touched the side of her face. “That is not your shame, but theirs.”

  He tipped her head back and kissed her. His lips were gentle yet demanding. She needed no persuasion to open her mouth and meet his tongue with eager licks. One of his hands cupped the back of her head while the other pressed her lower back taut against his hardened frame. Her hands encircled his neck and held onto him as if her life depended on it. And maybe it did.

  Suddenly, he broke away from her and stepped back. “I can’t.” He turned and went back to the bedroom.

  Olivia followed fast on his heels. “Please don’t go.”

  “I have to. I can’t do this with you again. I have more honor than that.”

  “Your honor isn’t at stake—I’m no Society miss. You’ve been more honorable with me than I’ve probably deserved. I want you to stay.”

  Moonlight spilled through a gap in the curtains and arced across his face, highlighting the rough planes. “Don’t say that. You deserve far better than you’ve gotten. Your life has been at the mercy of others, including mine.”

  That was true. He could easily expose her as a bastard daughter of a whore. But she knew he wouldn’t. “You won’t hurt me.”

  “Perhaps I already have. I had no right to take advantage of your vulnerability at Benfield.”

  “You didn’t. Why can’t you accept that it wasn’t your fault?”

  “Because I’ve done it before.” The words came out on a whisper that Olivia could barely hear. But she didn’t dare ask him to repeat himself. She could see what saying it had cost him. He turned away from her, his hands fisted again, his mouth compressed tight. “I ruined another girl, long ago.”

  “What happened to her?” Olivia asked because she thought he wanted to tell her. She supposed she wanted to know, but it wasn’t the most important thing to her right now. Soothing him, giving him comfort when he’d given it to her—that was paramount.

  “The duke got rid of her. She wouldn’t have been an acceptable countess—or duchess—in his eyes, and so she simply disappeared.”

  Olivia’s gut twisted. “You loved her.”

  He nodded, and Olivia’s heart broke for his loss. She went to him and touched his face, turning him back toward the glow of the moonlight. “I won’t leave you. Not tonight.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  WITH A burning stare, Olivia kissed him. Jasper knew he should go, tried to make his feet move, but in the end, he wrapped his arms around her and clasped her close. The kiss became two, then three, their lips touching, sucking. He shouldn’t allow her to seduce him, but he needed her. Just like she’d said she needed him.

  She slanted her head and opened her mouth over his. Her tongue thrust inside. His fingers bit into her back, holding her against him with a ferocity borne of desperation. She didn’t seem to notice or mind, for she kissed him with an intensity that spun his mind from his body until he couldn’t think, only feel her hands stroking through his hair, sliding over his collar.

  Jasper shrugged his coat to the floor while her fingers worked at his cravat, tugging the knot loose and tossing the fabric aside. He plucked at the buttons of his waistcoat, pulling one completely off the silk in his haste. Before he could rid himself of the garment, she was pulling his shirt from the waistband of his breeches. Her fingers grazed his bare flesh. Desire catapulted through him.

  His waistcoat joined his coat and was quickly followed by his shirt. His arms still raised, she stroked down his chest. She studied his nipples, her fingertips circling them. Slowly, he lowered his arms, trying to keep hold of his restraint when he wanted nothing more than to lay her back on the bed and sink deep inside of her.

  But she was controlling this. She had wanted it, asked for it. Never had he acquiesced command. Never before had it seemed important, vital.

  She lifted her gaze to his in silent question. He gave a slight nod, and she smiled. The effect was devastating. Jasper groaned, eager for whatever she might offer. She turned and climbed onto the bed and beckoned him to follow.

  She kneeled atop the coverlet and he sat beside her until she pushed him back against the pillows. Once he was fully reclined, she pulled his boots and stockings from his feet.

  Jasper schooled himself to lie still and not help her. Her fingers moved to his waistband then paused. His pelvis thrummed with the need to arch up toward her. Instead, he waited, his breath drawn.

  She lowered her mouth to his chest and lightly kissed his aching flesh. He cast his head back against the pillow as she opened his fall and tugged his breeches down his thighs. His breathing came heavier while her lips burned a trail toward his hips. She couldn’t mean to…

  Cool air rushed over his loins as she stripped away his small clothes, leaving him naked to her desire. Moments passed in which her mouth moved down with agonizing languor. Jasper tensed, his hips suspended in a tight arc.

  He closed his eyes as her hand encircled his shaft. With exquisite care her palm rose up to the tip, employing the same method he’d instructed those many days ago—was it a week or a month or even a year?

  She licked at his hipbone, eliciting a gasp from his lips and a jerk from his thighs. In giving her control, he’d weakened his. He didn’t know how long he could last. Her hand worked another blissful moment and then her breath fell across his swollen flesh and his entire body went taut. She paused.

  His eyes flew open. He angled his neck so he could look down at her. The silken length of her auburn hair flowed over his thigh. Her fist was wrapped around his cock, her mouth pois
ed… Heat rushed through him at this provocative vision. “May I?” She didn’t finish the question, but her meaning was clear.

  Jasper nodded, unable to form words.

  Then her lips were upon him and he lost all ability to think of anything beyond her touch. Gingerly, she kissed his flesh at first, her lips exploring, her hand continuing to grip him at the base. She opened her mouth wider, allowing her tongue to graze the tip. He knew moisture leaked, felt her draw back in surprise. He resisted the urge to hold her head to him, force her back to quench his need.

  He didn’t have to. She renewed her assault, this time with more surety. Her mouth closed over him and somehow, God somehow, she knew to slide her hand up until it nearly met her lips. Then down again as her tongue worked in delicious circles. Pleasure built within him. He thrust his hand into her hair, unable to keep himself from her another moment. She sucked, her mouth tightening around him, drawing his seed forth. No, he didn’t want this to end. Not yet.

  He hadn’t really abandoned his control, merely allowed it to subside. For her. Careful not to steal what he’d so gladly given, he tugged at her hair. “You have to stop.”

  She lifted her head. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to come like that.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh. I thought you liked it.”

  “God, yes. But I want to be inside of you. I want us to share tonight.” He knew it was true, just as he knew there shouldn’t even be a tonight. He thrust the reality of their incompatible stations—an heir to a dukedom and the bastard daughter of a whore—from his mind, refusing to let it intrude. “Come up here.”

  He held out his hand, and she placed hers in his palm. Reluctantly, she let go of his cock and slid up his body. He ground his teeth, working to keep himself together. Because she’d started this and because she’d seemed so eager to drive the encounter, he guided her to straddle him. The heat of her core pressed against his lower abdomen.

  She still wore her voluminous nightgown, much to his chagrin. In silent question, he ran his hand up her thigh beneath the linen. To answer, she pulled the garment over her head and threw it to join his clothing.

  Jasper inhaled at her naked beauty. Her flesh gleamed palest ivory in the moonlight. The tips of her breasts lured him like rose-colored velvet. He leaned up and took one into his mouth, sucking the nipple into a tight pebble.

  She gasped and threaded her fingers in his hair. He massaged her hips, settling her lower against him, seeking her warmth against his aching shaft. He ran his left hand up her side to cup her other breast. The soft weight of her filled his palm. She felt so good. He lifted his other hand and wrapped it around the breast he suckled. Raising his mouth, he tweaked both nipples. Then he returned with greater fervor, drawing on her flesh, nipping and sucking at it until she moaned. Moisture seeped from her as she ground her hips down against him. Jasper arched up, his cock rubbing her clitoris.

  He moved to her other breast with savage precision. He licked around the nipple, squeezing her flesh. She pushed down on him again. Pleasure pulsed through his belly. It had to be soon.

  He kept his mouth on her, but widened her legs. He stroked down her body, his fingers seeking her wet cleft, the flesh satiny soft and so, so hot. She cried out and her muscles clenched. She was so close and he’d barely touched her there. The level of her desire humbled him.

  Parting her flesh, he guided himself inside. He wanted to thrust deep, claim her body with a vicious stroke, but this was her night and so he waited for her direction.

  She sat forward slightly, her body angled perfectly to receive him and then she pushed herself down until she’d taken him completely inside. He fell back with her movement, releasing her breast with a groan. She followed him, moving over his chest until her nipples brushed against him. Her knees came up on either side of him.

  Her eyes had been closed, but now they opened and studied him with wonder. He returned her stare. Slowly, she rose up, her hands pushing against his chest. He burned with need, praying for her to establish a rhythm that was quick and hard. She came back down again, her cleft swallowing him whole, her eyes widening the smallest bit. He gripped her hips, and the movement loosened something within her. She moaned and pitched herself forward, her mouth taking his in a lustful, impassioned kiss that sent him to the very edge of sanity.

  Her hips moved up and down, establishing the rhythm he craved. She rotated wildly against him, seeking release. He moved his hand to stroke her clitoris. Almost immediately she cried out against his mouth. She pulled up, giving him greater access. He pressed his thumb against her in swirling circles to create a throbbing friction. Moisture coated his shaft while her muscles clenched around him.

  Her body jerked; she lost control of the rhythm. God, no, he couldn’t let it go yet. In one fluid, desperate arc, he turned her to her back and drove into her, continuing the ebb and stroke. She wrapped her legs around him, her hips rising to meet each thrust. His seed pulsed forth. He had to get out. Now.

  But he couldn’t. He buried himself deep and took her mouth in a ferocious kiss. She was his. If not forever, then for now. God yes, for right now. The moment stretched into blissful eternity, his body pumping his insecurity, his desperation, his craving into her, the only comfort he could recall. Perhaps the only comfort he had ever known.

  THE next afternoon, Olivia sat in the Rose Room stitching the buttons on Jasper’s waistcoat. Last night had been a revelation in so many ways. She didn’t think she’d ever opened herself to anyone the way she had to Jasper. He’d demanded her absolute honesty, and she’d given it. Not out of fear, but out of the desire to have someone with her. Someone who wouldn’t judge her. Somehow—impossibly given the way their relationship had begun—Jasper had become that person.

  He’d left her early, before it was even light. He’d kissed her brow. There had been no talk of another encounter or of the future. But neither had there been talk of regret. Olivia had no expectations where he was concerned, especially after hearing about his past. He’d already made the mistake of falling in love with someone he couldn’t marry. She didn’t think he’d do it again.

  And she was definitely someone he couldn’t marry. Though her background might be secret, he knew the truth—and she believed his duty wouldn’t allow him to choose her.

  Bernard came into the drawing room. “Lady Lydia Prewitt and Miss Cheswick are here to see you, Miss West.”

  Olivia stabbed herself in the finger, and then rubbed her thumb over the stinging flesh. They’d wasted no time in visiting as they’d promised. “Please have tea sent in. Thank you, Bernard.”

  So kind of him to announce the guests instead of bringing them directly. Olivia would stitch him a new handkerchief as soon as she finished the waistcoat.

  She jerked her head up. The waistcoat! She couldn’t let them see her sewing a garment that Jasper would presumably wear in public. Quickly, she stuffed the garment into the basket at her feet and shoved it under the settee.

  Lady Lydia entered, her sharp brown eyes assessing the room. Audrey followed, offering a cheerful smile. “Good afternoon, Olivia.” Her gaze went to Merry’s painting. “Lord Merriweather’s, I presume?”

  Of course, Audrey was well-acquainted with his work. Her grandfather had several of his paintings in his townhouse, which Olivia had viewed at Lord Farringdon’s dinner party. “Yes, that’s Merriweather Hall in Yorkshire.”

  Audrey joined Olivia on the pink brocaded settee. “It’s beautiful. He possessed such skill.”

  “Yes, but could he sketch gowns? Don’t think I’ve forgotten your promise to show us your drawings.” Lady Lydia untied her bonnet as she inspected the room. She ran her fingers over tables and knick-knacks, and paused to study the garden through the windows.

  Olivia ignored Lady Lydia’s odd behavior. “How are you, Audrey?”

  “Oh, she’s a bit excited, I daresay.” Lady Lydia finally landed on a cream and rose-striped chair adj
acent to the settee where Olivia and Audrey sat. “Mr. Evensrude called on her yesterday.”

  Audrey blushed. Olivia had no idea who Mr. Evensrude was, but if Audrey was pleased by his attendance, then Olivia would be too.

  “Oh, he’s no Saxton, of course, but he’s no Lyle, either.” Lady Lydia cast Olivia a superior glance, perhaps meant to remind Olivia that she’d been silly enough to dance with Lyle. “Still, I hope you don’t encourage Evensrude too much, Audrey. You can do so much better. After all, Saxton isn’t betrothed yet, and there may be a way you can attract him.”

  Surprisingly, Audrey glared at Lady Lydia. “I highly doubt that. You’re cruel to even suggest it.”

  “Nonsense. You’re a lovely girl from an impeccable family. I know the wagers say he’ll marry Lady Philippa, but I can’t imagine her agreeing. As staid as Saxton might be, she’s even moreso.”

  Bernard entered with the tea tray just then, interrupting further conversation—at least for the moment. As soon as he’d settled the service on the table and departed, Lady Lydia started back up. “No, I don’t think that way is closed. Leave it to me to come up with something.” She smiled as she leaned forward. “Do you mind if I pour out?”

  Olivia shook her head, and Lady Lydia proceeded to serve the tea.

  “What would you do to encourage Saxton’s attentions, Lady Lydia?”

  Lady Lydia glanced up as she poured the third cup. “Oh, listen to me. I’m afraid I was a trifle overzealous. He’s your cousin, of course. I mean him no harm. I’m sure he’ll marry whomever he wishes.”

  Audrey leaned close to Olivia. “She really does mean well. It’s just that sometimes her mouth moves faster than her mind.”

  Olivia would have to trust Audrey’s judgment. After all, she seemed to enjoy Lady Lydia’s company, else why would she spend so much time with her? “Audrey, do you possess a fondness for Mr. Evensrude?” Olivia asked.