Anything but Innocent

by Dayna Quince

  “Here beats the heart of a man who is far kinder and honorable than he wants to believe. I see it, my family sees it, but you refuse to see it.”

  “It isn’t just my past that keeps me separated from your world, Lucy. It’s the choice I’ve made. I chose this life, and it is not a life you would want to live.”

  “I want anything that involves you.” Lucy kissed the hollow at his throat. He tensed and shifted beneath her. She kissed the crease under his jaw next.

  “Lucy…” he warned.

  “Dean…” she said his name against his skin. She pulled away. “I may not have your love like Rosie did, but I will take whatever you will give me.”

  He closed his eyes. He looked pained.

  Lucy’s confidence was shaken. All hope fled as she saw the look on his face. He didn’t want her and here she was, desperately clinging to him, forcing him to stay. When would she ever learn that she couldn’t will others to do what she wanted? She pulled away.

  “I’m sorry.” She choked back a sob.

  He opened his eyes. “What?”

  “I’m sorry I’m making you stay here. Go if you wish it.” She climbed out of his lap.

  “I don’t want to go.” He hugged her.

  “You don’t have to stay on account of my feelings. I’ve done so much to you… You had your reasons. They were different from mine, but in a way, we are the same. Neither of us wanted to be forced into a life not of our choosing, and here I am, forcing you to stay with me even if only for the rest of this night. I’m sorry.” Lucy covered her face in shame.

  Dean shuddered. He stood and gathered her close to him, feeling the sobs of her crying like wounds to his heart.

  After all this time and regret, she may be his worst victim. All she wanted from him was love, and he… he’d refused to give it. He denied her and he denied himself. He was a fool. She’d been on his mind since the moment he arrived and he’d told himself it meant nothing, that craving her the way he did—her smell, her laughter, the softness of her skin—that it meant nothing. But it didn’t. She meant everything to him.

  Chapter 24

  Don’t say another word,” he begged. He bent and lifted her, carrying her to the bed and setting her down. He pulled his shirt over his head and watched her reaction. She stared at him, eyes wide. He dug his fingers into her hair and began pulling out pins.

  His decision washed over him slowly, realization and relief filling him. What he was doing felt right. She had been right all along. He’d fought valiantly, but succumbing was so much easier.

  She looked at him, her eyes twinkling with unshed tears as he divested her of her costume. She didn’t try to stop him, only stared in wonder. He laid her back on the bed and joined her there, his trousers still on.

  He swallowed the urge to laugh. She looked like she wanted to say something, he could see it in her eyes, but she remained quiet. He bent and set his lips to hers, briefly remembering their first kiss—a horrible kiss. It was her first attempt to seduce him, and she’d been trying valiantly ever since. This time, he did chuckle. He broke the kiss.

  She pressed her lips together and widened her eyes.

  “I’m remembering our first kiss.”

  She smiled. It was a brilliant, happy smile. “I tried.”

  “But you did not succeed,” he teased.

  “You shall have to teach me.”

  “I thought I had.” He bent his head again and claimed her mouth. She tasted like heaven. He would never have enough of tasting her and smelling her. With each breath, he filled his lungs with her.

  He pulled back again and lay beside her. He took his time looking at her, for the first time letting his eyes consume her the way they’d wanted to. After all this time, he could now have her. He could slake his craving, quieting the demons inside him, and feast. His need to claim her was so strong, he shook. He closed his eyes.

  Lucy watched him in awe. The way he looked at her, she felt like the most precious treasure in the world. He closed his eyes, and he shuddered. It scared her. He looked like he was suffering. She reached out and took his hand. His eyes snapped open and inside them was a fire. It scorched her.

  “I need to touch you,” he said roughly.

  She nodded, needing his touch as much as he wanted to give it. She pressed his hand to her breast, his skin burning her. She sighed. This was only the beginning.

  He took control again and she let him. She was happy to relinquish control of herself to him when it meant finally being as close to him as she’d dreamed. There were no more words to be said. She felt like she had waited her entire life for this moment.

  She couldn’t control her erratic breathing as his hand gently skated over her skin. He was so soft and tender in his touch. He cupped her, molded to her, and cherished her breasts and skin until he’d covered every inch of her with his lips and fingers.

  She shivered with anticipation, her skin alive and burning with need. His gentle touch moved between her legs and she parted them, already aching for the taste of pleasure she knew could be. He slowly explored her, knowingly touching just the right place at the right time with the perfect amount of pressure. He was masterful, keeping her on the edge of the stars but never letting her go any further.

  She panted with frustration by the time one finger entered her, her body clasping him in her hot core and begging for salvation.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “I’m not done worshiping you,” he whispered against her skin. He took her nipple into his mouth, the stinging suckling pushing her further into the abyss. She squeezed her eyes closed, moving her hips against his hand, striving for her own release. Her body tensed, simmering with pleasure.

  “No.” He took his hand away.

  “Damn you.”

  He chuckled. “This time, I will feel you climax around me and again with me. We will be so close when it happens, so tied together, our pulse will be one.”

  She tossed her head back. “Please.”

  She heard him shuffle on the bed, felt his bare leg brush hers. She looked. How could she not? Fantasy was never as good as reality, and for the rest of her life, she would never again see him for the first time. Her first lover, the man she would give her heart and body to. She glanced at his swollen member. It jutted out from a nest of brown curls and brushed her leg. It was silky and hot against her thigh. She immediately reached to touch him.

  “Wait.” He grasped her wrist.

  “I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited forever.”

  “Then you can wait a little bit longer.”

  “For what?”

  “For the rest of our lives, Lucy. We will never have this moment again. Let me make it perfect for you.”

  She swallowed the urge to protest and nodded.

  He moved lower, setting his lips to the sensitive skin of her midriff. Her skin tingled and pulsed with his touch, flashes of heat moving through her like bolts of lightning. She wanted to move and shift, but his hand held her still as he kissed a trail to her navel, laying a path to the apex of her thighs. She couldn’t look. Her bravery abandoned her as he nuzzled her curls.

  She closed her eyes, her cheeks burning, her legs twitching as he parted them. First his fingers, and then his tongue touched her. Her body went rigid, the pleasure so acute and intense, she had to fight the urge to cry out. She didn’t know what was happening and had a brief moment of fury that she didn’t know or understand her own body. But he did—oh, how he knew precisely what to do to scatter her thoughts into a thousand pieces.

  She moaned, guttural and deep, her body rising from the bed on its own, her nerves tearing at her for that sweet pinnacle.

  He moved away, cutting off the flow of sensation.

  “Nooo!” She reached for him.

  He leaned over her, one hand sliding under her to lift her hips as he nudged her entrance.

  “Yes, Lucy. It’s time.”

  “Yes.” She nodded frantically. She’d never wanted anything more
.

  He slid inside her. It burned as she felt her passage give way. He retreated and then relentlessly drove further, breaching her maidenhead, claiming her. It felt like fire inside her, but the pressure of him against her, each thrust teasing her sensitive flesh that felt no pain, took greater hold of her. She was there again after a moment, the pain forgotten, and the flood of pleasure taking her further than before. She closed her eyes as it consumed her, her body singing with joy and rapture.

  He kept his pace as she floated among the stars, her nail scoring his back as she held onto him. She opened her eyes. It was a sight she’d never forget. He loomed over her, his face tense and brow furrowed in concentration, and then bliss overtook him. His eyes closed, his mouth opened and he moaned her name.

  She found heaven all over again at that moment.

  He groaned and slowed, kissing her forehead and cheeks, her eyes and then her lips. She blinked away tears as she clung to him, savoring the press of their sweaty bodies, the scent of their lovemaking, and the taste of his skin mixed with hers.

  There were no words for what she felt, no words to describe the array of emotions inside her. She didn’t need any.

  He rolled to the side, hugging her back to him.

  “Are you all right?” He nuzzled and kissed the back of her neck.

  I’ll never be the same again, she thought. She was his now, and he was hers.

  “I’m perfect.”

  She felt his smile against her skin.

  Chapter 25

  Jonathan held his head as he stumbled into the front hall. He looked around, but there was not a servant to be found. He cursed and climbed the stairs to his father’s study where only a finger of the good whiskey would alleviate his misery. It was there he found the servants, all clustered around the closed door of his father’s study.

  “What the devil is going on?” he croaked. His throat was painfully dry.

  They all scattered, and that was when Jonathan got a bad feeling. He walked to the door and leaned close.

  “If that is what you wish.”

  He heard Winchester’s voice. He threw the door open.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His father turned to look at him. “Good God, boy. Have you heard of knocking? This is a private meeting.”

  Jonathan looked back and forth between them. Winchester looked like a man facing the noose.

  “What is going on?” Jonathan demanded.

  “If you must know, Winchester has made an offer for your sister,” his father said.

  Jonathan felt his mouth go slack. He snapped it shut. “Are you mad?”

  “Mad?” Winchester repeated. Then he snorted and started laughing. “Are you still drunk?”

  Jonathan clutched his head. The room was beginning to spin. “Does this involve Jeffrey? He said something to me about Lucy…” Jonathan shook his head. The evening before could only be remembered in jumbled fragments.

  “Jeffrey won’t be a concern anymore,” Winchester said.

  “No.” Jonathan closed his eyes and leaned against a table. “Don’t do this to protect her. Whatever she’s done now she deserves the consequences.”

  “Jonathan,” his father scolded. “What are you blathering about?”

  “I’ll tell her myself.” Jonathan turned and stomped his way to his sister’s room. He pounded on the door.

  “Lucy! Wake up, you cretin. I’ll have your head for this.” He turned the knob and the door swung open. He almost lost his balance but caught himself. He saw his sister hastily tying her robe.

  “What are you doing in here?” she screeched at him.

  He winced and covered his ears. He looked up and glared at her. For the first time in his life, he could actually say he hated her. For too long she’d done exactly as she pleased with little to no repercussions.

  “What have you done, Lucy?” he said darkly.

  She straightened and shifted nervously. “What do you mean?”

  He strode into the room and kicked the door closed—or tried to. He stumbled and fell but quickly regained his feet and pushed the door closed.

  “Are you drunk?” She folded her arms and glared at him.

  “I’m asking the questions, minx. Now…” He looked around and blinked. “Where are we?”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’re in my room. Get out and take yourself to bed.”

  “I will not—” Something caught his eye. It was a black mask poking out from under the skirt of her bed. “What is that?” He lurched forward. She darted out of his way as he grabbed for it, staring at it in horror. He looked up at her. She stared back at him, hands pressed together in front of her lips. She was breathing very hard.

  He looked at the bed, sheet and coverlet twisted and wrinkled. He looked around the room, but there was no other damning evidence than the black mask.

  “I told you to leave him alone,” he ground out. “But you must bend everyone to your will like puppets.”

  “I love him,” she cried.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve got your feelings all sorted out, but did he tell you he loved you?”

  She didn’t answer. The stricken look on her face was enough.

  “What have you done, Lucy?” he bellowed. He threw the mask at her feet.

  “Now I must make him my enemy, I must call him out and hate him, and I don’t want to. I’ve already shot one man for you.”

  “No!” She cried. “This is my fault, not his.”

  “Damn right it is. You couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

  Her door burst open again, their father barreling through. “What the devil is going on in here?”

  “Lucy has gone and ruined everything,” Jonathan blathered on. “She has sed—”

  Lord Heath grabbed his son by the neck of his cravat and yanked him from the room. Lucy hid the mask under her robe as she looked out into the hall and the astonished faces of the staff, her mother, and Dean. He was trying very hard to mask his laughter behind his fist. She met his eyes and couldn’t help smiling. It was then that her mother entered her room and closed the door on all the prying eyes.

  “Is there anything I should know?” She tapped her foot and pinned Lucy with a serious glare.

  “Nothing pertinent, no.”

  “Are you going to marry him?”

  “Who?” Lucy frowned.

  Her mother stalked forward away from the door where surely ears were lurking. She grabbed her arms. “Lord Winchester. He has asked for your hand.”

  “He has?” Lucy could have jumped with joy, but her mother held her firmly to the ground.

  “You must get dressed and give him your answer with haste before he decides the lot of us are not worth the trouble.”

  “You like him then?” Lucy was ready to burst with happiness.

  “Of course, but what’s more important are your feelings. I know in the past I’ve pushed gentlemen your way that were not to your liking. I don’t want you to feel pressured to settle for someone likable when love is worth waiting for.”

  Lucy grinned. “Then I’m done waiting because I love him more than I can adequately express.”

  Her mother hugged her tightly. “Hurry and dress.”

  Dean knocked on Rigsby’s door. His valet answered.

  “Is he decent?”

  “He’s in an ice bath, my lord.”

  “Perfect.” Dean pushed his way into the room.

  Rigsby was chest deep in an ice bath, a towel draped over his eyes. Dean lifted the towel and smiled down at Rigsby’s red-lidded glare.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’m living in a bad dream.”

  “How so?”

  Rigsby leaned forward in the tub and splashed water on his face. He shook the excess from his hair and sighed gustily. “Please say you’re not falling on your sword for my sister.” He met Dean’s eyes warily.

  “I’m not.”

  “But Jeffrey… You’ve been up in arms since she mentioned seeing him. I
know he said something last night, but for the life of me, I cannot remember what it was.”

  “It’s not important now.”

  “It is, dammit. Why are you marrying my sister?”

  “Maybe because I want to.”

  Rigsby gave him a look of disbelief. “You? Marriage? Those two things have been as opposite as the sun and moon.”

  Dean chuckled. “I know, but things change.”

  “Since when? Since your masquerade mask happened to end up in her room?”

  Dean cocked a brow. “So that’s where I left it.”

  “I’d be bloody furious if I didn’t believe that she had something to do with this.”

  Dean choked on his laughter. “You think I’m the victim here? She lured me into a trap, compromised me, and now I must pay the ultimate price.”

  “Am I supposed to believe you seduced her?” Rigsby scoffed.

  “Is that hard to believe?”

  “When it comes to my sister, yes. Lucy is as fierce as a tigress, she’s as bull headed as a—a bull! You’re mad to want to marry her, let alone be coerced into it. I knew she fancied you, but I’d hoped your distinct distaste for her sort would be enough to keep the both of you safely apart.”

  “You thought wrong.” Dean thought of Lucy the first day he arrived. The moment their eyes met across the lawn and an invisible bolt of lightning struck him. He’d fought it, but now that he was no longer fighting it, he could see the elusive something that had pulled them together, the wildness inside them that bound them.

  “I’m trying to be angry at you, but I can’t. I pity you.”

  “Don’t pity me.” Dean laughed. He was happier than he’d ever felt before.

  “One by one, they fall,” Rigsby muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Ablehill, Draven, Bainbridge, and now you. Who’s left?”

  “Just you.” Dean smirked.

  Rigsby glared at him and then splashed him with ice water. “Get out. I don’t know if this marriage insanity is catching.”

  “It is. Shall we summon Miss Manton back? You seemed taken with her in breeches.” Dean ducked as a chunk of ice flew over his head. Dean laughed as he left Rigsby to his melancholy bath. He still had a proposal to make.