by Darcy Burke
She glared at him briefly before launching into her tale. “After Val and Cole threw Caldwell and Sir Humphrey out, I went out the back and went around to the Haymarket where I intercepted them.”
“Did you?” He shook his head. “Of course you did. You know no fear, Viola. And you should.”
She exhaled in exasperation. “Can I please finish?”
“Please,” he said amiably.
“And don’t interrupt again, because you really are taking the fun out of it, and this is such a good story!”
“I am positively aquiver with anticipation.”
“Stop that. I queried them about how they knew you were at the meeting. And before you say that was dangerous, they are the ones who brought it up.” That wasn’t precisely what happened, but they’d certainly given her an opportunity to ask. “They were absolutely confident you were at the meeting last night, and when I pressed them about it, Sir Humphrey’s loose tongue got the better of him. He said they knew it for certain because they had an informer.”
They’d crossed the square and were now at the juncture of King Street. Jack stopped and turned to stare at her. “He said what?”
She nodded vigorously. “That’s the story, Jack. What do you think it means? What sort of man?”
He rubbed his hand along his cheek and jaw. “I don’t know. I’m trying to recall who was there last night, but I can’t think of anyone who stood out. But then if they’d embedded someone in the Spencean Philanthropists, I would guess they wouldn’t be conspicuous.”
“It’s not as if they’d wear a sign that reads ‘spy.’”
Jack gave her a wry look, his mouth twisting into a half smile. “No, they would not.” He was silent a moment, and she wondered what he was thinking. “This is going to take some pondering as to our next move. I think it may be time for me to solicit additional help from my colleagues. This seems to be a far bigger situation than I’d imagined.”
He gestured to the house on the corner. “This is where I live.”
Viola pivoted and took in the smart town house. It wasn’t large, but it was neat, and the green door and bow window at the front were most inviting.
“I’ll hail a hack,” he said, turning back toward the street.
She clasped his elbow again, and he stopped. “Can I see the inside?”
He hesitated before saying, “I suppose you could.”
“You can’t say it’s a scandal, because I already did that. And since I did earn it and didn’t get to do anything truly scandalous in the library earlier, I think you owe me a night of scandal.”
His dark brows arched high on his forehead. “I owe you?”
She stepped closer. “Maybe we owe each other.”
He swore under his breath, then started to take her hand. Letting her go, he swore again. “I will be very glad when you are no longer disguised as a man.”
Viola couldn’t help but giggle as he led her up the steps to his door. He opened it and held it while she moved into the small but elegant entrance hall. Pale gray marble gleamed beneath her feet. To the left, she saw his study—the room with the bow window that faced the street. Stairs marched up the right wall, while a corridor extended back from the entrance hall.
A middle-aged butler came into the hall.
“Good evening, Gardner,” Jack said. “Allow me to present my betrothed, Lady Viola Fairfax. Viola, this is my butler.”
Viola gaped at him before turning her attention to the butler. “Pleased to meet you, Gardner. Pardon my…costume. I was at a masquerade.” No one would ever believe she’d gone to a masquerade dressed so thoroughly as a man, but Gardner was evidently a butler of exceeding grace and talent, and his gaze didn’t reflect even a hint of surprise or affront.
He bowed to her. “It is my pleasure, my lady. We are most delighted to hear of your upcoming marriage. On behalf of the staff, we are eager to serve you.”
“Thank you, Gardner. Mr. Barrett is just going to give me a tour.” She hoped he was, anyway. Actually, she hoped he was going to do far more.
“Exactly so,” Jack said smoothly. He gestured toward the back of the house. “That way is the dining room as well as a small morning room that opens to my miniscule garden. Let us go upstairs.”
She smiled at the butler before preceding Jack up the stairs. On the first floor, he gestured toward the front of the house to a wide doorway. “The drawing room, not that I entertain much.” He turned and pointed to the rear of the house. “A bedroom for guests. Not that anyone comes to visit.” He took her hand again, and this time, he didn’t let go.
Guiding her up to the second floor, he took her to the front of the house and opened the door to a small sitting room. Leading her through it, they emerged in a bedchamber. His bedchamber.
He let go of her hand and walked farther into the room until he stood in the center. “And this is where I sleep. When I am not tortured by thoughts of you.”
Viola took off her hat and tossed it aside, then did the same with her gloves. “You’re tortured by thoughts of me?” She sauntered toward him and began to pluck the pins that held her wig in place.
“Positively bedeviled.” He removed his coat and set it on a chair near the window that surely overlooked the street below. She couldn’t tell because the dark green draperies were closed against the night. A small fire burned in the hearth, and lanterns glowed from either side of the bed. Overall, it was dim, but there was enough light for her to see him.
When all the pins were free, she dislodged the wig and set it atop a table with the pins. Then she peeled the whiskers from her face. “Would it surprise you to know I have been tortured similarly? When I close my eyes, I feel your lips on mine. When I lie in bed, I imagine you beside me. On top of me. Inside me.”
“Viola, dear God.” He was suddenly before her, his fingers deftly pulling the pins from her upswept hair and tossing them to the floor.
“The pins,” she said.
“Can go to the devil.” When her hair was free, he plunged his hands into the strands and cupped her head. He stared at her as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at her face, then he brought his thumbs down her cheeks to her jaw and over her lips until they met. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I don’t think I can bear to see you as Tavistock again.”
She stuck her tongue out and licked the pads of his thumbs. He groaned and moved his hands to the sides of her head. Then he kissed her, his mouth meeting hers with a towering passion she knew would consume them both. And she could hardly wait.
Chapter 13
Jack was so glad to see the wig and the whiskers gone. He’d longed to rake his hands through the silken honey of her hair, and it felt better than he’d ever imagined. Now he wanted Tavistock banished for good.
He dragged his mouth from hers and kissed along her jaw as he loosened her cravat. He tugged the silk free and dropped it to the floor. Trailing his lips down her neck, he pulled the collar of her shirt so he could access her collarbone. It wasn’t enough.
Passion rising, he pushed at her coat, and together, they cast it aside. He didn’t wait for it to fall before he began unbuttoning her waistcoat. A moment later, the garment joined the coat wherever it had landed.
She pulled the shirt from the waistband of her breeches and drew it over her head. But of course she wasn’t bare—her breasts were bound, which he’d known they had to be. When he’d kissed and held her in the closet at the ball, her breasts had pressed against his chest in a way they never had when she was dressed as Tavistock.
He longed to unbind her, but first, he wanted her boots off. Guiding her toward the bed, he sat her on the cushioned bench at the end. Then he knelt on the floor and pulled her boots from her feet.
“You are an excellent valet,” she said. Her voice had deepened, but not in the way it did when she played Tavistock. This was a sultry, feminine sound that curled deep in his belly.
“We’ll see about that when you have to get dressed again.�
� He went to work on her stockings next, and when her feet were bare, he massaged them briefly before pressing his lips to the inside of her calf.
She twitched, then shivered as he kissed his way up to where her breeches started. He lifted his head and knelt between her legs. Looking up into her face, he brushed her hair back and cupped her nape, drawing her down so he could kiss her again.
She put her hands on his shoulders and returned the kiss with a rapture that matched his own. He gripped her hips as she assumed the role of valet, stripping him of his cravat and unbuttoning his waistcoat. Impatient, he helped her, nearly ripping the garment in his haste to tear it off.
She broke the kiss and slid from the bench. “Your turn.” She guided him to take her place, then she went about removing his boots.
Her eyes met his and never broke contact the entire time she divested him of his footwear and stockings. It was the most erotic undressing he’d ever experienced. His cock raged with want, and he was nearly panting with desire.
She frowned up at him. “You’re still wearing a shirt.”
“And you’re still wearing breeches.”
“So are you,” she countered. “Shirt. Off.”
He pulled the cotton from his breeches and whisked the garment over his head. “Better?”
Her gaze locked on his bare chest, and her lips parted. “Oh, yes.”
“Viola, if you continue to look at me as if I’m a sweetmeat on a tray, I’m going to throw you on the bed and shag you senseless.”
She continued to stare at him. “All right.” Then she licked her lower lip.
Groaning, Jack clasped her by the biceps and stood. “Enough.”
“Not nearly,” she murmured before his mouth claimed hers.
He completely gave in to his lust, his lips and tongue devouring her more thoroughly and desperately than any sweetmeat. She was an equal partner in this madness, her hands exploring his shoulders, his back, his hips, then coming up between them. She splayed her palms over his chest, her fingers finding his nipples and rubbing back and forth across the points until he moaned.
It was past time to remove the binding.
He pulled his mouth from hers and led her to the side of the bed so they’d be next to one of the lanterns. “I want to see every inch of you,” he whispered, grasping the end of the binding fabric tucked between her breasts.
She lifted her arms so he could easily unwind the muslin. Four times it went around, and with each revelation, his breath caught anew. At last, her breasts bobbed free, and he dropped the fabric, now forgotten, to the floor.
She was absolutely exquisite. He stroked her neck, caressing where it met her collarbone, which swept out in an elegant line to her shoulder. From there, he skimmed his fingertips down to the tempting swell of her breast. With both hands, he cupped her, the weight filling his grasp. He traced his thumbs over the nipples, and they responded instantly, becoming deliciously erect.
He leaned down and drew one into his mouth. She gasped as her hands clasped the back of his head. With lips and tongue, he tormented her—or tormented himself, depending on one’s perspective. But it was the sweetest torture he could imagine. Teasing her and touching her only increased his arousal to an incredible height.
“Jack, please.”
He pulled on one nipple with his fingers while he suckled the other. “Please what?” he managed while he moved his mouth to her other breast.
“I don’t know exactly.” When he pulled hard on her nipple, his lips drawing on her flesh, she cried out. “Yes.”
He reached down for the fall of her breeches. Finding the buttons, he worked to set them free. A moment later, he pushed the garment down her hips. He took a tiny step back so he could look at her nude.
He’d imagined her a thousand times like this, but the picture in his mind couldn’t compare with the reality. Her hips flared gently from her waist, and golden hair cloaked her sex. He wanted to taste her, but maybe not tonight. He assumed this was her first sexual encounter; however, maybe it wasn’t. She’d been betrothed before.
He raised his gaze to her face. “Sorry, I can’t seem to stop staring at you. You’re so beautiful.”
“It’s all right. I keep doing the same to you. Except you’re still wearing breeches.”
The frustration in her voice made him chuckle. But then he sobered. “Is this your first time?”
She nodded. “I mean, I kissed Edmund, and he touched me a—”
“Stop, please. I don’t want to hear what you and Ledbury did.”
“I’d rather talk about what you want to do to me. Can you touch me now? Please?”
She wanted to talk about it? Oh, he could talk about a hundred things he’d like to do to her. “Where would you like me to touch you?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere.”
He touched her breast, stroking along the underside and then lightly pinching the nipple. “Here?”
She gasped and nodded, her lids drooping.
He skimmed his hand down over her rib cage and along her belly, then over to her hip. He caressed the curve there and traveled to her backside, cupping and squeezing her flesh. “Here?”
She put her hands on her shoulders, perhaps to steady herself. He could feel her quivering. “Yes.”
Trailing his fingertips back over and around her thigh, he moved them up between her legs until he felt the heat of her. “Here?”
Her hands squeezed his shoulders. “Yes. Please.”
She was already wet when he grazed his fingers along her folds. She cried out again, her fingertips digging into his flesh. He found her clitoris then and rubbed against her until she moaned. Then he remembered what she’d said earlier, that she’d wanted him inside her.
He’d kept a tight rein on his control, but it was beginning to slip. Desire and need built to a crescendo within him, and he stroked a finger inside her. She moaned again, more loudly this time, and he kissed her in a wild frenzy.
He wanted to hear her scream. He wanted to make her scream.
Jack lifted her onto the bed and quickly tore his breeches away. Climbing up, he knelt between her legs and kissed her belly. Then he pressed on her inner thighs and put his mouth on her sex.
“Jack!”
He lifted his head, not to look up at her, but to ask, “Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
He licked along her sex and used his thumb and fingers to tease her clitoris. “Making you scream, I hope.”
“I can’t scream. Your staff will think something is wrong.”
“My staff will think I’m pleasuring the woman who will soon be my wife. Which is precisely what I’m doing.” He put his tongue inside her and pressed on her clitoris, agitating her flesh until she bucked off the bed and indeed let out a wail.
He felt her orgasm coming, her muscles tensing as he put his finger back inside her and stroked in and out. It was barely a moment before she cried out once more and her flesh shuddered around him.
Rising onto his knees, he looked down at her satisfaction-glazed expression with a truly absurd amount of male pride.
She opened her eyes and tried to focus on him. “I never expected that.”
“Good. I shall endeavor to always surprise you.”
A shadow of unease crept over her features. “That’s not all, is it?”
“It is if you want it to be.” He prayed she didn’t want it to be.
She looked up at him with a thoroughly petulant and provocative expression that made his cock harden even more. “You promised to shag me senseless, and I’m not leaving until you do.”
The need she’d felt a few minutes before, which she’d thought he’d satisfied, came roaring back. She couldn’t stop staring at the gorgeous expanse of his muscled chest and the alluring dip between his waist, hip, and groin. Jack, she decided, had to be the perfect male specimen, far more attractive than any painting or sculpture she’d seen.
And then there was his manhood. His cock. That was the word sh
e’d giggled over several years ago when discussing the act of sexual intercourse with her friends. It had seemed a silly word, but now, looking at the hard shaft, it seemed somehow appropriate.
She leaned up and reached for him, grazing her fingertips across the moist head peeking forth from his foreskin.
He sucked in a breath.
“Is this all right?”
“It’s marvelous. Stupendous. The single greatest moment of my life.” Except he sounded as if he were in pain.
“I’m not sure I believe you.” She wrapped her hand around him, loving how warm and velvety he felt. “You sound as if I’m torturing you.”
“And so you are.” Now, he sounded as if he couldn’t breathe.
“Am I? Here I was trying to give you pleasure.” She pulled her hand away. “Perhaps I should stop.”
His hand closed over hers, and he brought it back to his cock, curling her fingers around the base. “Start here and glide up.” He showed her what he wanted. “Slow, fast, whatever you want to do.”
“I want to put you in my mouth.”
“Oh God. Not tonight, Viola. Next time.”
“Why not? That’s what you did.”
“Because I don’t want your first time to be me spilling my seed down your throat. Though at the rate we’re going, I’m going to be spilling my seed all over your thighs. Just—” He put his hand over hers and guided himself to her sex.
“Are we doing this now?” she asked.
He looked into her eyes. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, please shag me.” She parted her legs farther and urged him to move inside her. “Senseless, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything else.” He pressed into her, moving slowly, his shaft sliding within her sheath as if they’d done this a thousand times. It felt so natural, so right, as if they’d been made exclusively for each other.
She felt a twinge of discomfort as she stretched to accommodate him. He stopped, looking down at her as he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “All right?” he asked her tenderly.