His groan was low, nearly feral, perhaps because he knew she would give him no more than this tonight, that he would ask for no more, even as his body was tense with need, with a hunger for her that would terrify him if he thought about it later when she wasn’t in his arms. But as long as she was curled against him, he would face the hell of not possessing her completely, if only for this. For now this was enough, this was everything.
This was a promise of more.
He was offering more. She knew that as she explored the sultry confines of his mouth laced with the dark, rich wine he’d been drinking. He was offering everything even as he had to know that she would not take it, that she was not yet ready to cast aside all the morality she’d been taught.
But oh how she was tempted.
Draped over his chest, his belly, between his thighs, she could feel the hard length of him pressed against her. It had startled her at first, when she’d taken his fingers into her mouth, and she’d become aware of his body changing. Startled her but not frightened her. Instinctually she’d understood what was happening, that he was preparing for the taking of her—
But as he’d initiated no advances toward that completion, she realized he quite possibly had no control over that aspect of the mating ritual, and that pleased her even more. That she could have such influence over him, that she could drive him to such distraction. He wanted her, he desired her, and she’d never felt more powerful in her life.
This was a man who controlled everything around him, and yet she could control him.
She wondered if she took him upon the roof if she could show him fireworks. Some night she might, but for now she was content to be where she was, with his broad hands running over her back, her buttocks, squeezing, lingering, moving on.
The sensations he elicited from her were what she’d hoped being with a man would be like. All heat and hunger and need. The need to be touched, stroked, kissed. The need to be held as though it was the only way to stay anchored, the only way to fly together.
Here was the itch about which he’d spoken. Now she understood why a woman would risk so much for a moment’s pleasure. Because it extended beyond the moment, because she would carry it with her into tomorrow and the day after. Because it elevated her, gave her confidence, made her feel loved.
Loved as she’d never felt before.
Cupping her face between his hands, he drew back, held her at a short distance, his gaze searching, and she wondered if her lips were as swollen as his. They felt as though they were when she ran her tongue over them, taking delight in the way his eyes tracked her movement, the way they darkened.
“Damn, but you are temptation and sin,” he rasped. “I should see you home while I still have the will to resist.”
“Am I so hard to resist?”
“Nearly impossible.”
She grinned, delighted by his words.
“You little witch. You’re happy about that.”
“I am. I feared I wasn’t.”
His thumbs stroked her cheeks. “You are the most tempting creature I’ve ever known.”
She ducked her head into the curve of his neck. “You humble me.”
“My God, Aslyn, I am the one humbled. You’re the daughter of an earl, and I’m but a bastard.”
Her head came up. “You’re a successful businessman.”
“With no lineage to speak of.”
She shrugged. “You’ll be the first of your line. Every great dynasty must have a start somewhere.”
He chuckled low. “You see me with a dynasty?”
“I see you being, doing anything you want.” She pushed herself up until she was sitting on the sofa. “It’s not all fun and games, being part of the nobility, you know. There are expectations, duties and responsibilities. We’re not allowed to scratch itches until we’re wed.”
He shoved himself up until both his feet were on the floor and he was sitting beside her. “You’re not allowed to lose your virginity until you’re wed.” Leaning in, he kissed the side of her neck. “I think you learned tonight there are other ways to scratch itches.”
“I suppose you know them all?”
“I know a good many. I take great care not to have any by-blows.”
He would, of course. He had a keen understanding of the price paid by the illegitimate while until recently she’d only had a vague notion that they existed.
Standing, he held out his hand to her. “Let’s see you home.”
Shortly thereafter, they located Nan and the coachman in the parlor, sipping brandy before the fire, talking low. When they spotted Aslyn, they both jumped to their feet as though caught doing something they shouldn’t.
“Did you enjoy your relaxing evening?” she asked.
Nan bobbed her head. “It was a lovely dinner. Thank you, Mr. Trewlove.”
“You can thank me by keeping where you came tonight to yourself.”
Nan tilted up her chin. “After dinner, my lady went to bed with a megrim. We never left the residence.”
He grinned with approval. “I hope she feels better on the morrow.”
“I’m certain she will, sir.”
“We should be on our way, then,” Aslyn said.
As they neared the coach, Mick asked, “Nan, have you ever ridden atop a coach?”
“I most certainly have not.” Her tone indicated she was offended by the question.
“Then you’re in for an adventure.”
Her maid came to an abrupt halt. “My lady?”
Aslyn looked at Mick. “My maid doesn’t travel outside of the carriage.”
“Tonight she does. I’m seeing you home.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“I insist. I’m not sending you through the London streets without escort.”
“I travel in this manner, with only Nan, the driver and the footman, all the time.”
“Not tonight, not anytime after you’ve been with me.”
The man was so stubborn. “Then they’ll have to bring you back.”
“I’ll walk or find a hansom.” In front of her servants—thank goodness they were the only ones about at the moment, except for Jones at the door—he cupped her face, tilted it up and held her gaze. “You are too precious for me to risk that something might go awry on your way to Hedley Hall. It’s late. Ruffians are likely to be about.”
Her heart warmed with his words that she was precious to him, but she also saw no need for his protection. “So we’ll both be at risk.”
His grin was wicked and dangerous, as though he were spoiling for a fight. “I can hold my own against them.”
She had no doubt of that, and she did appreciate that he worried for her. “All right. But Nan does not ride atop.”
“There’s a hundred pounds in it for her if she does.”
“You can’t buy—”
“I’ve always wanted to ride atop a carriage,” Nan suddenly announced. “I think it’ll be jolly good fun.”
Mick’s smile was one of victory that made her want to kiss him. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s be on our way.”
Like a gentleman, he took the seat opposite her. He had the sense she wasn’t quite pleased with his high-handedness, that she wasn’t happy he’d been unwilling to let her travel without his escort. The odds were she’d get home safely. But even a one in a hundred chance she wouldn’t was too high as far as he was concerned. And he did know how to handle ruffians. He and his brothers had been dealing with them their entire lives.
Once the carriage bolted forward, he crossed over to her, took her in his arms and claimed her mouth with his own. He would make her grateful he was there.
It took very little. An urging of her lips to part, a thrusting of his tongue, and with the sweetest of moans, she sank against him, into him, her slender arms coming around
his neck, her hands clasping the back of his head, holding him in place as though she feared he’d only tease her, then withdraw.
But teasing her teased him as well, and he’d had enough of it for tonight. She was no doubt blissfully unaware of how tightly strung he was, how her hand below his waist, at the fall of his trousers, would have him embarrassing himself. He’d never before been so near the brink of release without being buried in a woman.
She unmanned him.
It took so little on her part to have him raging with need. A dozen times since he’d met her, he’d considered seeking surcease in the arms of another, and yet he wanted no other, understood wholeheartedly that no other would satisfy. Even taking himself in hand did little to assuage his desire, his need, his want for her. He couldn’t even claim the release to be temporary because it brought no satisfaction whatsoever, no dulling of his yearning for her.
But the yearning went beyond the tasting of her haven between her thighs, the ecstasy of her muscles closing around his cock, his thrust taking him deeper to the heart of her—the yearning encompassed what he’d always considered mundane: her smiles, her laughter, her fragrance, the lilt of her voice. Her mere presence.
Whether she sat across from him or was nestled against him, she satisfied something deep within him that had never before been touched. Now it was awakened and would not settle back into slumber.
He dragged his mouth over her chin, along her jaw to the sensitive area just below her ear and nibbled as if it were the finest delicacy. To him it was. “When can I see you again?”
“I have to settle things with Kipwick first,” she said distractedly, as though being awakened from a pleasant dream.
“Speaking with him might be difficult.”
She drew back. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s spending a good deal of his time at Aiden’s club. He’s taken a room there, to be honest.” Not a room exactly. A bed, a pallet, to catch a few winks before asking for another loan and returning to the tables. Not that he was going to tell her all of that.
“I must speak with him.”
“Not there.”
Shoving away from him, she gazed out the window. He wished he’d kept his tongue in her mouth instead of giving it freedom to speak. “I’ll get word to him that you need to see him.”
“He told me that winning was a thrill.”
“It is. The problem with thrills is that after a while they become mundane when they are the same one over and over, so one must look for ways to make them bigger. A larger wager, more at stake. To lose is a harder kick in the gut, but to win is an elation like no other. However, it, too, becomes the same. Habitual gamblers are always in want of a more intense thrill.”
“It’s an addiction of sorts, isn’t it?”
“For him, yes.”
She turned to him, a sadness in her eyes. “Can you help him? Can you have your brother close his doors to him?”
“Yes.” As soon as I’ve acquired what I want. But studying her, he wondered if it was worth it, if there was another way to gain the acknowledgment he wanted—needed—more than ever. Recognizing his bloodline—even if his blood wasn’t pure—would gain him admittance into Hedley Hall, would allow him to be seen with her in public.
He wanted her on his arm, proud to accompany him, into a fancy ballroom filled with those of noble birth.
“I’ll speak with him,” he added, as though Kipwick would listen to anything he had to say. Although when Mick presented him with all his markers and deeds, the man would pay a great deal of attention to his words.
As the carriage turned onto the drive, she smiled. “I have faith in you.”
Her words devastated him. He should confess everything, but in the confessing he’d lose her. However, if he plowed ahead, he would make things right. She would see that everything had been necessary to ensure they could step out of the shadows.
Chapter 18
The one place and time the duke and duchess could be counted upon to be together, without fail, was the gardens at two every afternoon, and so it was there that Aslyn sought them out.
Watching as they slowly strolled from one trellis of roses to another, smiling at each other, talking softly, the duchess reaching up to touch her husband’s jaw, he bending his head to kiss her brow, she realized that what they had, the love they shared, was what she had always longed for. She’d have not had it with Kip.
She’d have it with Mick. She had it with him now. His protectiveness, his gentleness, his yearning for her, his refusal to push her beyond what she was ready to give.
She loved him. It was that simple, that complex.
Their road would not be an easy one, but all the same she wanted to travel it.
“I daresay, the gardener has outdone himself this year,” she announced, approaching the couple.
The duchess turned, smile softly at her. “I was just saying the same thing to Hedley. I’m particularly fond of the pink ones.”
“They’re quite lovely.”
“I suppose you’ve come to tell us you’re going to make another visit to that awful orphanage.”
“It wasn’t—” She bit back her retort. This was not the direction she wanted this conversation to go in. “No, actually. I wanted to get your permission to invite someone to dinner.”
“Kipwick, perhaps? I don’t know where he’s been of late, but he certainly doesn’t require an invitation.”
“He’s been at his clubs.”
The duke furrowed his brow. “Every night?”
“As I understand it, yes.”
“He attributed his recent absence to business dealings concerning the estates.”
“You’ve spoken with him?”
“A couple of days ago.”
“Perhaps I have the wrong of it, then.” Although she very much doubted it. “But no, I wasn’t considering inviting him. As you say, he requires no invitation.” Although things were likely to go more smoothly if he wasn’t present. “I was hoping you’d be open to inviting Mick Trewlove.”
“No.”
The duke’s response came so fast, so stern and with such thunder that Aslyn was taken aback, wasn’t quite certain what to say.
With her eyes blinking and her delicate brow creased, the duchess looked from him to her. “He’s the bastard Kip was telling us about, isn’t he?”
She hated that that particular moniker was associated with him when he was so much more. “He’s a successful businessman.”
“He’s not welcome here,” the duke said.
“But—”
“No discussion. That is the end of it. Bella?” He held out his hand to his duchess.
“He’s quite right, my dear. We don’t associate with that sort.”
“With a man who works hard, who has risen from nothing, who helps others? A man who—”
“That’s enough!” the duke bellowed. “You are not to speak his name, and you most certainly are to have nothing to do with him.”
“Do you know him, Hedley?” the duchess asked.
“No. I only know of him, and none of it good.”
“If you believe that,” Aslyn said, “then you don’t know him at all.”
“How is that you do?” he asked, his gaze boring into her.
Swallowing, she clasped her hands before her. “Kip and I met him at Cremorne. He was quite fascinating—” She couldn’t tell them that she’d met him on several occasions since. The awful realization struck her that the duke might actually lock her in her chambers. She’d never seen him so angry, so forceful. “I thought we all might enjoy the opportunity to get to know him better.”
“No.”
Again the single word delivered like a death knell.
“You’re being unreasonable, to not even give the man a chance to prove himself.”
“But, my dear,” the duchess whispered conspiratorially, “low morals and all that.”
“His parents most certainly, but not him.”
“Associating with him, no matter how innocent, will lead you along the path to ruin.”
She bloody well didn’t care.
“You will not be seeing him again,” the duke commanded, and she wondered if he suspected Cremorne wasn’t the only occasion she had spoken with him. “Bella.” Once more he held out his hand to his wife. She thought she saw it shake before the duchess slipped hers into it.
“I’ll send word to Kip that he’s expected for dinner tonight,” the duchess said.
Then they strolled away as though they weren’t the most unreasonable, close-minded couple she’d ever known.
Darkness had only recently fallen as Mick sat at his desk in his office and studied the markers, vouchers and deeds in his possession. He still didn’t have the one he craved, but wondered if these would be enough to convince Hedley to acknowledge him. He was growing impatient—
Impatient to publicly claim Aslyn, weary of keeping the truth of his paternity from her, feeling guilty that he’d introduce Kipwick to the Cerberus Club, knowing his weakness.
She’d never asked anything of him before, but she asked this: that he have the doors to the club closed to the earl. And it was within his power to grant her wish. How could he deny her this one small request?
Bloody damned hell.
He’d argued with himself all day about going to have a word with Kipwick, but he’d known a word wouldn’t be enough. It was Aiden he’d have to talk with. No more markers for the earl, no more accepting property as collateral. Then Mick would have to spread the word to every lowly club that existed throughout London that the Earl of Kipwick was not to be welcomed.
For her, he’d cut off his means for acquiring what he longed for.
Hearing the echoing footsteps, he glanced up to see her marching toward him. Opening the top drawer in his desk, he surreptitiously slid the documents inside, closed it up tight and came to his feet just as she barged into the room.
Beyond Scandal and Desire Page 24