“No,” she whispered against his skin, her lips tickling that sensitive spot just behind his ear. “He’s dark and dreary, and he seems like trouble.”
He’d reached their spot and crossing to the bench, he sat down with her in his arms. “Looks can be deceiving.”
Her blonde hair blew softly in the breeze as her chocolate brown eyes stared up at his. “They can.”
“I’ve deceived you,” he said before he could take it back. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Ash,” she said, her lilting voice dancing over his skin. “I haven’t been honest either.”
That made his eyes pop open. “How?”
She shook her head, staring off into the night. “I made it sound like I wanted you because I wanted my music career, but the truth is…” She drew in a long shaky breath. “The truth is I am falling in love with you.”
He nearly howled in pain and shouted in triumph at the same time. Instead, he turned her face toward him. “Don’t say that.”
He saw the pain etch the lines in her face. “Why not?”
A muscle in his jaw flexed, pulsing with his pain. “Because…”
“You,” she started, and he heard her breath catch. “You don’t feel that way about me.”
“I do,” he said one of his hands threading into her hair. “More than I can ever say.”
She made a strangled sound, her hands coming to his chest. “But I don’t understand. If I love you and you love me, what’s the problem?”
“It’s so much more complicated than that, love.”
She shook her head. “Is it my music?” She looked away. “Did you want me to choose?”
“Never.” The single word ripped from his throat. “I would never want you to give that up.”
“Then what?” she asked, wiggling to escape his lap but he held her firm.
“I’m scared to tell you. I’ve never told anyone and once I do. Everything will change.”
She stilled again. Her breath coming in ragged gasps, her hands cupping his cheeks. “Tell me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure that I can.”
“We want to build a future, correct?”
He nodded, looking down at the stone laid artfully under his feet. “Then I need to know the truth. We’ll have to build our future on a strong foundation.”
“I know you’re right. But I’m afraid there won’t be a future at all if you knew the truth about me.”
She ran a hand over his chest. “I’m going to need you to trust me.”
“Trust you?” He reached up, grasping a single lock of her hair and let it slide across his hand. “All right. Here goes…”
* * *
Cordelia trembled as she waited to hear what he’d say next. She’d known they’d been dancing around something. Would he finally tell her what it actually was?
“You have to understand,” he began, his face tilting up to the sky. “I didn’t start like you.”
“Start like me?” Her voice sounded high and tight even to her own ears.
He nodded. “I was born in Cheapside, to an unmarried woman who cleaned a whorehouse.”
She held in a gasp as she covered her stomach with her hand. Of all the things she might have thought he would say, that hadn’t even entered her mind. He was a viscount. “But if you’re mother was unmarried then—”
“Cordelia,” his voice dropped low and his lids slowly closed. “I am the viscount’s bastard.”
Her head spun as she covered her mouth, trying to keep a wave of emotion from crashing over her. Suddenly it all made sense. His absolute insistence on ending the line. His emotional distance from his father, the way he believed himself to be unworthy. “Ash.”
He still held her in his arms, his body radiating heat, but his back was stick-straight as his voice was cold. Icy even. “Even that name is a remnant of my humble beginning.”
“But Dashlane…” she started, her voice trembling.
“My given name, that my father gave me, is Preston. My mother named me Michael at birth. Not that it mattered. There was no record of me before my father. She was so frightened, she hid me away for the longest time. The other girls in the house, they called me Ash. You see, I’d grow cold in our attic room and I’d find my way down to a warm grate, still burning with embers, so that I might not freeze, and then I’d fall asleep there. In the morning, I’d be covered with bits of ash. Hence the name.”
Pain and sympathy settled like a stone in her stomach. One person should not have had to endure all of that. “How did your father find out about you?”
“She grew ill. I learned that later. She reached out to him to tell him that she’d bore him a son and begged for his help. He came. I bear too many Dashlane traits to deny my parentage. And so, he took me that very night. Apparently, I was the only child he’d successfully been able to conceive, and his first wife had already passed. He thought I was his last hope at carrying on the legacy.”
She pressed deeper into him. “And you don’t want to continue the line that was so important to him.”
He shook his head. “Everything I told you about his cruelty was true. But it was so much worse. In his mind, I wasn’t really worthy of the title. I was trash. I never did anything good enough. One misspoken word, I’d get the crop. One bent collar, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Sometimes I didn’t eat for a week.”
She couldn’t contain her cry of anger that someone would treat a small boy so cruelly.
He looked at her then, his eyes so full of pain, she ached for him.
“If anyone were to know my secret…”
She nodded, lacing her fingers through his. “I understand. I’ll never tell a soul. Not even my sisters.”
He looked down at their joined fingers. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to marry me after this. I’m not a quality man. But I beg you. Stay away from Balstead. He’s a terrible excuse for a lord.”
Emotion had been swelling in her heart, but it wasn’t loathing or a need to reject him. She shook her head, catching his eye. Didn’t he understand. “Not marry you?”
He nodded. “I’m not the real viscount. I’m no one.”
She drew in a deep breath. “You are someone to me. You’re the man that I love.”
“Cordelia.” He crushed his mouth against hers, his kiss desperate and wanton. “Thank you for saying that but…”
“Ash.” She gave him a soft smile. “Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a lord? That I planned to go unwed rather than be tied to one of those men?”
He pulled his chin back staring down at her. “It did not.”
Cordelia put a hand behind his head, pulling his mouth down toward hers once again. Then, she kissed him. Long and hard. “Your past is the very thing that makes you different from them. And I know that it must have been awful, but I love the man you are now. The one who is willing to let me spread my wings and fly. The one who wants to build a life together rather than just have me decorate his.”
He kissed her again. “You’re sure about getting engaged, married? I’ll understand if you want to end it.”
“End it?” She gave a small laugh. “We’ve only just begun.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cordelia sighed into his kiss. She’d never been more certain of anything or anyone in her entire life.
The fine strands of his golden hair slid through her fingers as his firm lips kissed her over and over, his tongue dancing with hers.
Their bodies pressed together, Cordelia wishing to be closer still.
She leaned back, looking up at him as the darkness settled about them like a blanket. “I know you wanted to burn down your title.”
He trailed his hand down her neck to her chest, settling on one breast, then caressing the soft flesh. “I did. And I know that by having children the title itself will live on.” He moved to the other breast as she shifted to grant him access. Her nipples were forming into stiff peaks as she squirmed for his touch.
&n
bsp; “It will,” she gasped. She was attempting to concentrate on their conversation, but he was making it rather difficult.
He chuckled, kissing her neck. “But…in a way, it will never be the same again. You and I are going to remake it. We’ll build a home of our own that’s filled with love. We’ll have children that are strong and cherished.” With each sentence, he kissed her again, a bit lower. “Nothing will be entailed. It will be ours to divide freely among them.”
She nodded as his lips slid over her collarbone. He began working the buttons of her dress and the front fell open. He pushed aside her chemise, his mouth settling over her nipple. As he sucked the tender flesh into his mouth, Cordelia moaned in pleasure, tugging at his hair.
In response, he lifted his mouth and she cried out a protest, but his thumb replaced his lips, where he rubbed the wet flesh, making her absolutely ache in need. “My God, Cordelia,” he whispered. “You’re so lovely. How did I ever manage to make you mine?”
She dug her hands into the skin of his neck. “I want to see you too.”
“Ask and you shall receive.” He slid her off his lap and shrugged off his coat. His fingers made quick work of the knot in his cravat and he tossed it to the ground and then shrugged off his shirt.
His muscular shoulders and torso came into view and her breath halted in her throat. “You’re stunning,” she said as she stood to run a hand along the ridges of his biceps. “I had no idea men were so beautiful.”
That made him chuckle. “Beautiful is not the word that is usually used for men.”
“It’s apt,” she answered, circling about him as she wandered her fingers over his chest, down his stomach and then around his back. “I’d like to trace every inch of you and then sketch it to remember for all time.”
He looked back at her. “You sketch too? One woman should not be so talented.”
She laughed at that. “Not well. Not really. But I’d try for this. It’s worth it.”
He pivoted to face her again and then reached his arms around her to finish unbuttoning her gown. “Your turn, my love.”
Her laugh turned nervous. “I’m not nearly as interesting as you are.”
“I beg to differ.” The dress gave over its last button and he worked the fabric over her hips, bending in front of her.
She lightly balanced her hands on his shoulders as he knelt down and she stepped out of the dress.
He placed a kiss directly on her belly, still covered by her chemise, and her insides fluttered with longing. “Ash.”
He looked up at her grinning and then reached his hands under her chemise, sliding his fingers up her bare legs. “I love that you don’t wear pantaloons.”
“I do. Sometimes.” But a grin played at her mouth until his fingers reached above her knee. Then the grin died as she nibbled her lip.
Still his fingers slid higher until they once again reached her curls. This time she knew what it would feel like and she tensed, already anticipating the pleasure. But he stopped just short.
“Take off your chemise,” he said.
She only hesitated for a moment. She’d be near bare except for her slippers. But then she sent the fabric sailing over her head.
He drew in a sharp intake of air as he leaned back on his heels and he stared up at her. Then he reached up his hand, tracing her body with leisurely strokes. “I know what you mean about wanting to sketch. Cordelia you are…stunning.”
A flush was climbing her cheeks and she resisted the urge to cover herself. “Your turn.”
By way of answer, he stood. Underneath the nearest tree was a bed of pachysandra that he laid his coat over and then took her hand, leading her to his makeshift bed. She lay down on the fabric, surprised by how soft it was.
He sat on the bench, quickly pulling off his boots. Then he joined her on the coat, lithely climbing up her body as she shifted to lie flat on her back.
Never had a man looked more glorious and her hands reached out to pull him higher. She wanted to kiss him. Run her hands all over his back once again, but he stopped near her pelvis, placing a little peck on her hip. “Open for me, love,” he said as he started to kiss closer to the juncture of her thighs.
She did as he commanded, heat already building between her legs. He parted her curls with his fingers, slipping the pad of his middle finger through her slick folds. Her body spasmed with need even as he slid his tongue along the same path.
Stars burst behind her eyes and she squeezed them shut, winding her fingers in his hair. “Ash,” she cried out, her leg automatically hooking over his shoulder.
He repeated the same move with first his finger and then his tongue and more lights sparkled behind her lids. She wasn’t sure she’d survive the pleasure.
And then, when he worked his finger lower, into her channel, his tongue swirling circles on her sensitive nub, her entire body spasmed.
Pleasure was ricocheting through her, her hands frantically pulling at his shoulders, his hair, the back of his neck, but he didn’t relent. As he increased the pressure, the pleasure was too much and she fell over the edge, crying out his name one last time.
* * *
Ash heard his name on her lips, satisfaction coursing through him. She belonged to him and him alone.
She was everything he’d never even dared to dream, and he’d do everything in his power to keep her safe, happy, loved.
He began climbing up her torso, kissing a trail as he went. His breeches were still on, which was a very good thing, his cock had a mind of its own and it wanted her in the most wicked way.
Ash kissed up her neck and then found her lips, her body soft and so pliant under his. He skimmed his fingers into her hair, wishing it were down and flowing about her shoulders. As if she heard his request, she began pulling out the pins, allowing the locks to fall into his waiting hands.
“Ash,” she said quietly into the night. “Your pants.”
“What about them?” he asked, still combing his fingers through the lush locks of hair.
“They’re still on,” she replied, her fingers coming to the laces.
“They should be. We’re not—” But he didn’t have a chance to finish before she’d already undone the strings and was tugging the fabric down his hips. “How did you do that?”
“I have dexterous fingers,” she answered, wiggling the tight garment down past his rear so that his cock sprang out.
He had firsthand knowledge of just how wonderful those fingers were and memories of their time on the beach assaulted his thoughts as his member grew even harder. The poor thing was likely to shatter soon. “Cordelia,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I can’t control myself if you keep this up.”
“So don’t,” she said, wiggling down lower, her mouth peppering kisses along his skin. She wasn’t actually going to…
She reached his member and her supple lips placed the softest kiss right on the tip. Seed leaked out and every muscle in his body locked up. “Tell me what to do,” she said as she continued kissing down the shaft. “You’re so different from me.”
He rolled onto his side and she followed him, sliding the head between her lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and then open again, trying to regain composure. “You don’t need me to tell you anything. Bloody hell.”
She gave the softest giggle as she took more of him into her mouth. “Can you finish this way too?”
“Oh yes,” he answered, his hands twined into her hair. “Yes.” he hissed out. Part of him wanted all of her. Wanted to take her maidenhead tonight. But he knew he needed to wait. He’d yet to gain her father’s permission and without it he wouldn’t take her virginity.
She slid more of him into her mouth, her tongue dancing along the tip. Was it set to the rhythm of a quadrille? His eyes rolled back into his head. He’d never dance that tempo the same again. His breath hissed from his lungs as he guided her up and down his shaft, his body tightening and tensing until he thought he might break from the tension building within.
He likely deserved the teasing, but a cry of frustration rose to his lips. He needed her. He’d revealed his deepest darkest secrets tonight and rather than reject him, she cradled him in her love. She gave him more than he’d ever hoped for. Love, passion, need welled inside him, nearly overwhelming him with joy. “Cordelia, please.”
In response, she climbed up his body, her nipples skimming his flesh, causing goose pimples to rise all over his skin.
“I want all of you,” she said by way of response. “Will you give it to me?”
Dear heaven above, he wanted to be a good man. But such an enticing plea like that… “You’re trying to kill me.”
She laughed. “I’m trying to love you.”
He slid his fingers into her hair. “I’ve not gotten permission for your hand.”
She shook her head. “Stop worrying. My father has offered you a position in his company. Permission granted.”
The logic was thin, but he couldn’t care in this moment and rolled her onto her back, settling between her legs. He wanted her, all of her, wished to claim her, make her entirely his.
His cock head settled between her wet folds, sliding into her channel.
The cords of his neck tightened with the effort to go slow as her fingernails dug into his back.
“Are you all right, love?” he asked, his jaw locked tight.
She gave a stiff nod. “Do it. Hurry.”
With one quick thrust, he broke her maidenhead. She tensed, crying out underneath him and he stilled, allowing her to adjust. Instead, he kissed her face, her neck, the spot behind her ear, until she relaxed underneath him. Then, he began to move.
He felt the moment she relaxed, the pain having receded. And then, blessedly, her hips began to meet his, her limbs tensing again. Not with pain, but with pleasure as her legs tightened about his hips.
He was barreling toward the finish but, with sheer force of will, he held off until he felt her spasm around him, her channel gripping his manhood as she cried his name again. Then, he let go.
What a Vulgar Viscount Needs: Romancing the Rake Book 5 Page 9
