Loved by the Lyon

by Cameron, Collette

  He was sculpted, molded, masculine perfection.

  When she hesitated at the waistband of his trousers, suddenly uncertain, he covered her hand. “I’ll do that.” His throaty timbre rasped across her, causing a little shiver of scorching desire to tingle its way over her raised flesh.

  Good Lord, she might very well burst into flames, such unfamiliar heat singed her.

  “You lie down.” He jerked his chin toward the settee.

  They were truly going to do this. In the drawing room. On the settee. Where anyone might come upon them.

  Well, the closed door ought to deter all but the most impertinent.

  To hide her nervousness as Kingston stripped away the last of his clothing, Vanessa presented her back, concentrating on removing her stays with trembling fingers. She wasn’t quite brave enough to watch him disrobe. She’d just kicked off her slippers and reached to untie the ribbon holding her stocking when he came up behind her and rested his hand over hers.

  “Leave them.”

  The hard contours of his torso and chest pressed into her shoulder blades, the curly hair tickling her. His granite-hard thighs cradled her buttocks in the most erotic manner. Vanessa wanted to arch her back, pressing her bottom into his hardness.

  They were a symphony of contrasts.

  Creamy and sun-bronzed. Firm and soft. Rounded and lean.

  Something thick and firm bumped against the cleft of her bum, and she started, her heart vaulting to the hollow of her throat.

  “Easy,” Kingston whispered into her hair, grazing his rough fingertips over her shoulders as if easing a skittish horse.

  Her heart settled into its proper place once more, anticipation replacing her disquiet.

  After rotating her to face him, he began pulling the pins from her hair.

  She ran her fingertips experimentally over the hard, puckered scars covering his back and shoulders. How he must’ve suffered.

  When he’d tossed aside the last hair pin, Kingston fanned her hair over her bare shoulders and chest. Catching a strand between his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed the tendril. “I adore your hair, love. It’s spun moonbeams.”

  His member flexed against her bare belly.

  Vanessa swallowed and couldn’t keep her gaze from sinking to the long shaft protruding from the curly, dark blond hair at his groin. The proof of his arousal pointed upward, toward his rippling stomach, and flexed every now and again.

  It was strange and foreign, but thrilling and beautiful, too.

  Glancing up, she bit her lip. “May I touch it?”

  Kingston brushed his mouth over hers, flicking his tongue out to lick the seam of her lips.

  “Any time.”

  Wrapping her fingers around his length, Vanessa marveled at the smooth, velvety, yet rigid length of him. Experimentally, she rubbed her thumb across the moist tip, and a raspy groan slipped through his lips, trailing along her collarbone.

  Squeezing, she ran her hand down to the base of his erection, marveling at the contrasting textures and how it seemed to swell within her palm. “It’s quite the most astounding thing I’ve ever seen or touched,” she murmured, skimming her fingers to the top once more.

  “That’s quite enough for now,” he rasped thickly, gripping her hand to stay her exploration. He chuckled and kissed her nose. “Or this will be ended before it begins.”

  Perplexed, she frowned but obediently let him guide her hand to his chest.

  Then in a deft move, he laid her upon the settee and angled himself beside her. Brushing a hand over her face, he stared into her eyes. Eyes so full of tenderness, it brought a rush of moisture to hers.

  Lord, how she loved this man.

  “You only have to tell me, and I vow I’ll stop. We won’t do anything you don’t wish, Vanessa.”

  “I told you, Kingston. I want this.” Curving her mouth into a tender smile, she pressed her lips to the pulse jumping at the juncture of his throat. “I want to remain your wife.”

  He looked at her for a long, compelling moment, his gaze inscrutable, and Vanessa knew he fought an inner battle.

  Would he choose them? A future together, forever and always?

  Please, God. He must. For she didn’t know how she’d live without him, now that he’d burrowed his way into her heart.

  “You are an unqualified wonder, Mrs. Barclay.”

  Understanding dawned, and joy winged through her.

  Then Kingston’s hands and mouth were everywhere, all at once. At least that was how it felt as sensation after sensation coursed through Vanessa, building and growing until her hips bucked and gyrated in a silent plea for fulfillment.

  He slid a finger into her slick channel and gave an animalistic growl of approval. “You’re more than ready, love.”

  “You don’t need to tell me,” she quipped, arching into his practiced hand.

  Moving over her, Kingston paused, his manhood poised at her entry.

  Both of their gazes were fixed at that juncture, the darker skin tone of his penis standing out against the pale backdrop of their skin.

  “I’ll ask you one more time, Vanessa.” Kingston brought his glittering blue gaze up to meet hers. “Are you positive?”

  In answer, she wrapped her legs around his lean hips and her arms around his broad, scarred back, pressing her sensitized nipples to his crisp chest hairs. “I vow, I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

  Holding her gaze with his own, Kingston slowly entered her, slowly pressing into her tight sheath. His fullness stretched her, but it wasn’t painful. Just different. Shifting, he placed his hands beneath her buttocks, arching her hips upward to receive him. “I’ll try not to hurt you, love.”

  “I know.” She lay her palm against his bristly cheek, loving the way the stubble felt against her skin. “You’d never intentionally hurt me.”

  Claiming her mouth, he surged forward, tearing through her maidenhead.

  Vanessa stiffened against the fleeting sting of pain.

  “All right?” he asked raggedly against her ear, his breathing unsteady.

  She nodded her head. “Yes.”

  And then he began moving, catching her up in a whirlwind of passion and desire. He took her ever higher and higher, a kaleidoscope of color and stars dancing behind her eyes. With each wave of bliss, something inside her tensed and grew until she thought she couldn’t possibly take anymore.

  There breathing became harsh, the sound of their damp skin slapping together rhythmically, her blood whooshing in her ears. The smell of him, sandalwood and sweat and musky male virility, vaulted her nearer a peak, a pinnacle she was desperate to reach.

  “Kingston,” she groaned.

  Needing. Needing. Needing.

  “Come for me, love,” Kingston ground between his teeth, his features strained, his expression almost feral as if he were in pain. “Come, my darling.”

  And then Vanessa came apart, bliss cascading over her in undulating molten waves. She screamed, “Kingston!” digging her nails into his back, holding on to him lest she fly away on the wings of ecstasy. “Kingston,” she moaned again, trembling and shaking in the aftermath.

  He surged deeper, until he touched her womb, his fingertips digging into her hips, and a hoarse, guttural moan spilled from his mouth. “I love you, Vanessa.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kingston hadn’t meant to tell Vanessa that which he’d only recently acknowledged to himself. He’d never have done so had they not consummated their vows. And since she’d be his until he drew his last breath, he’d wanted her to know.

  “I love you, Vanessa.” Closing his eyes, happiness humming through him, he pressed his lips to her forehead, branding her as his. “You have made me so very, very happy.”

  He lowered his attention, raking his gaze over every detail of her beloved face.

  A tear slid from the corner of one of her eyes, then another and another. With a ragged sob, she buried her face in his shoulder and clung to him.

&
nbsp; His brave, intrepid Vanessa, who’d only ever been stoic, shuddered against him as she wept. “And I…love you…too,” came her stilted, watery reply.

  Thank God.

  For a horrible, agonizing few seconds, terror had gripped Kingston.

  Whispering endearments, he held her until her tears subsided and, sniffling, she raised her gaze to meet his. Her eyelashes spikey from her weeping, a tremulous smile played across her swollen mouth. “I believe this means we shan’t be seeking an annulment.”

  “No, minx.” Tweaking her nose, he grinned. “We assuredly will not.”

  She sniffled again, and he reached to retrieve his handkerchief from his coat pocket. “Here.”

  “Thank you,” came her muffled voice as she wiped her damp face. She blew her nose and after folding the cloth and tucking it behind her, gave him a shy look.

  With her hair tousled, bright spots of color on her cheeks, and her lips cherry red from his kisses, she’d never looked more beautiful or tempting. And she was truly his.

  “I shall make you happy, Vanessa.” Kingston would keep that vow, but first, he must tell her the truth.

  She kissed his chest, and love blossomed in his chest, so rich and powerful, tears stung his eyes.

  “I’m already ecstatically happy, Kingston.”

  The fire burned low, and a chill permeated the room. Reaching over her, he pulled the seafoam green knitted throw from the back of the settee. After draping it across their naked forms, he settled her into the cradle of his arms. Several blissful, contented moments passed, only their even breathing, the fire’s occasional crackle, and the hypnotic tick-tock of the clock breaking the serenity.

  “Darling, there’s something I must tell you.” Kingston should’ve done so before making love to her. Should’ve given her the right to choose whether she’d stay with him after she learned the ugly details of Gabriel’s death.

  If she decided not to, he’d let her go, of course. And when he became the Duke of Caerleon, he’d use his power to seek a dissolution of their marriage, though it would rip his heart from his chest and see it pulverized beneath a thousand horses’ hooves.

  Tilting her head back, Vanessa searched his face. “What is it?”

  “I want you to know the truth about Gabriel’s death.” Taking one of her slender hands, Kingston pressed his mouth to the knuckles.

  She swallowed and gave a small nod, a tinge of uncertainty in her expression. “All right.”

  The brave darling.

  Of course, she’d face that straight on, too.

  As Kingston brushed his fingertips over her silky shoulders and back, every now and again, pressing a tender kiss into her fragrant hair, he told her all. Kingston didn’t spare himself, laying the blame precisely where it belonged. At his feet.

  “It should have been me that died, that day, Vanessa. Not Gabriel.” He stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows play across the ornate surface painted with cherubim capering amongst clouds.

  Though he’d considered himself a brave soldier and had never once shrunk from duty in cowardice, Kingston couldn’t bring himself to look at her. To see the condemnation and perhaps hatred in her honey gaze.

  She remained perfectly still and utterly silent for a full one-hundred and sixteen tick-tocks of the damned clock. With every passing second, his heart sank further, his hope evaporating.

  “Kingston?” Vanessa’s tone didn’t hold any of the wrath and accusation he’d expected. Deserved, truth be told.

  Bracing himself, he brought his gaze to meet hers, expecting the worse.

  “Would Gabriel have done the same for you?”

  “What?” He wrinkled his forehead.

  What did she mean?

  “Would Gabriel have asked me to deliver a letter so that he might carry out an…assignation?” How did one delicately refer to a courtesan with one’s wife?

  She nodded, her fingers gripping the edge of the throw. Her eyes wide, she roved them over his face.

  “He would have done.” Kingston didn’t doubt it for an instant. That instance wasn’t the first time they’d traded favors so that one of them might dally with a particularly fetching and willing woman.

  “Without hesitation?” she pressed.

  “Yes.”

  That had been the nature of their friendship. Kingston would’ve done nearly anything for Gabriel, and the reverse was also true.

  “Then why, Kingston, do you continue to blame yourself for his death?”

  He stared at her so dumbfounded, words escaped him.

  Why?

  Why?

  “Because it should have been me, Vanessa,” he rasped, anguish tearing at his heart. “It is my fault he is dead.”

  “No. It shouldn’t have been.” Again, she shook her head, those silky strands brushing his arm as she laid her palm upon his chest, over his racing heart. “None of us has any control over the evil deeds of others. Nor do any of us know what each day will bring. And knowing Gabriel, he would not want you to continue to torment yourself.”

  “Vanessa…” He despised the broken, pleading tenor in his voice.

  “Forgive yourself, my love.” She raised up and brushed her mouth across his. “I forgive you, though I do not believe you did wrong. However, I know you need to hear it from me.”

  She forgave him?

  Did that mean…

  “You’ll stay with me and be my wife?” Rising above her, he cupped her jaw, emotion choking him. Afraid he’d heard wrong, he asked, “You’ll not leave?”

  A tender smile curved Vanessa’s mouth as she reached up and circled her arms behind his back, drawing him to her. “I’ll never leave you, my darling. I love you.”

  When he made love to her that time, he vowed their very spirits and souls melded together. And when they reached the zenith together this time, his tears mixed with hers.

  This was true, unconditional love.

  Epilogue

  Number Fourteen Berkeley Square, London

  Late evening, May 1817

  Vanessa bent her neck as Kingston unclasped the sapphire and diamond pendant, his Christmas gift to her along with matching earrings. “I suspected Madeline and Rebecca would be a success, but I didn’t expect they’d take London by storm.” She chuckled as she removed the sparkling earrings. “Only out a fortnight, and they’ve each received multiple proposals.”

  “You don’t suppose having a substantial dowry and a newly titled duke as a brother has anything to do with that, do you?” Kingston replied dryly, leaning over to place a kiss on her nape.

  As always, her body hummed in response. She’d never tire of his touch and still thrilled that this man was her husband.

  She turned and faced him, giving him a mock scold. “For shame, Kingston. They are beautiful, witty, and intelligent young women. Yes, no doubt the dowries and your title have lured a fortune hunter or two—”

  “Some claim I was a fortune hunter, and look how well that turned out.” He waggled his eyebrows in that deliciously wicked way he had, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle.

  “Pshaw. You were no such thing.” She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll remind you that there were nasty gossips who said I was an upstart who bought a title with my fortune. Never mind your uncle died within three months of our wedding, and you repaid every cent, plus interest.”

  That had been their first real heated argument. Vanessa had been highly affronted and refused to accept the money. At last, they’d agreed to put the funds in a trust for their children.

  Kingston pulled her into his embrace, smashing her bosom against his chest and causing the sapphire and diamond pendant she’d pinned there to press into the tender flesh.

  “Ouch.”

  “Forgive me, love.” At once, Kingston released her. Sliding his long fingers into her decolletage, he grinned roguishly as he unpinned the gem. “You never did tell me why this bauble was so important to you that you risked all to venture into the Lyon’s Den.”

 
Holding it up, he angled it back and forth, the stones catching the light and sparking like blue and white fire.

  Head slanted, Vanessa cupped his neck. “Haven’t I told you the legend of the sapphire brooch?” She puzzled her forehead. “Are you certain? I thought sure I had.”

  “No, you haven’t.” He set the jewel beside the others on her carved rosewood dressing table before nuzzling her neck and then kissing a smoldering path to her bosom. “Tell me now,” he insisted throatily in a gravelly timbre that revealed how much he wanted to take her to bed.

  Not yet, my fine rogue.

  “Stop, knave.” Grasping his blond mane, she gave a playful tug. “You know I cannot cobble a single thought together when you kiss me like that.”

  Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Kingston lifted his head. “Fine, but be swift about it. I have a ravenous hunger that needs satisfying.”

  He gave her bottom a firm pat.

  “Hmph. Patience is a virtue, husband.”

  “The legend, if you please, madam,” he purred, beginning to unbutton the impossibly small pearl buttons down the back of her rose-colored gown.

  She tossed a saucy glance over her shoulder. “You’re living up to your title.”

  “In what way?” His eyebrows knitted together, a thread of disquiet there.

  “Caerleon. Lion. With your blond hair and your tendency to growl or purr…”

  “Minx,” he chuckled, tickling her ribs.

  “Stop, Kingston,” she giggled. “Or I’ll not tell you the legend.”

  He relented and returned to unbuttoning her gown. “Who the hell thought it wise to fasten a gown with so many damned buttons?”

  “It’s fashionable,” Vanessa said, crossing her arms over her gaping bodice. “Anyway, the legend says that if an unwed man shows the brooch to an unmarried woman and she immediately asks to try it on, she’s a foolish choice for a bride. But, if she permits him to offer to let her try it on, then she’s a wise choice, and he should marry her.”

  “Wise indeed.” A raffish grin accompanied his pronouncement.