Boundless

by Connolly, Lynne

  Separating his intellect from his body, he tried to think his decision through. Rationality never worked well in these situations, but he had to do his best, because she would wake soon, and then he’d be lost again.

  He’d decided that Livia would make him a good duchess. She knew her place in society, the marriage would give him useful connections, and she was lovely to look at. Even though he chanted his list in his head, it felt hollow. If Livia had been an actress off the London stage he would be in deep trouble. Because he’d devote his passion to her anyway and no doubt make a complete fool of himself.

  Her body, silhouetted by the candlelight behind her had frozen him to the spot. The anxious expression in her eyes made him vow never to give her cause to look at him like that again. He wanted trust between them, so she felt safe with him. But not too safe, he recalled with a low growl, stroking her beautiful skin.

  Every woman had at least one outstanding feature, but Livia’s had not become apparent until he’d touched her naked body. Her skin was soft and silky, warm and inviting. The milky paleness so valued by society did not particularly appeal, or had not in the past, but when he saw the contrast between them, it gave him a sense of the forbidden, which, of course, pushed his desire up to unbearable levels. He adored touching her.

  Their marriage contract had not demanded fidelity, but he would do his best to ensure neither of them strayed.

  And he determined one other thing. They would marry long before the contract ran out. Next week wasn’t out of the question. Neither was tomorrow, come to that. He couldn’t let her sleep alone any longer.

  All he had to do was persuade her. Anyone else he could seduce into doing it, or cow them by appearing at his most ducal, but not this woman. Too used to moving in high circles, and he would not reduce what they had just shared into a tactic in what promised to be an interesting and at times difficult marriage. In a few days the house would fill up with siblings and relatives, and he could not risk creeping along the corridors between their rooms. Even less the job-doors that led into narrow servants’ passages, places he’d mastered years ago. But not here, not in this house.

  She stirred, her little grunt making him smile. When she opened her eyes, she blinked them clear. He watched the sleep disappear. “Oh. I thought you would go.”

  “Not yet.” Propped on one elbow, he gazed down at her, smiling. “How could I leave when you sleep so sweetly?”

  “Ah.” She blinked rapidly. “I’m not used to this.”

  “Neither am I.”

  That made her laugh. “Yes, you are. Don’t lie.”

  “I’m not lying. I do not linger in my mistress’s bed. I don’t sleep with them.” That was true enough. He preferred to sleep in his own bed. Once he had satisfied his desires, he saw no reason to stay. This time he had, and since he had not slept, he wasn’t sure why. He could have thought through his position in his own bed easily enough. Except leaving appeared a dispiriting prospect.

  “Is that what I am now? Your mistress?” Her lips curved into a smile. She liked the idea.

  He liked it too. “For a short time, yes you are.” He touched her mouth and curved his hand around her cheek. The texture of her skin affected him every time and arousal stirred. Her hair didn’t help him to keep control, trailing bright red-gold silk. “But not for long. Soon you’ll be my wife.”

  A flush ran along her cheekbones and she opened her mouth in an O before she found her voice. “This was a farewell. You don’t want to marry me, not now you know everything.”

  He growled low, stroking her skin. “Everything, yes.” She really thought she was nothing special? He planned to spend a very long time showing her how wrong she was about that. Livia Shaw had a spectacular body.

  “You only said we were betrothed to help me out of a scandalous situation.”

  “Do you not think this is scandalous?” He couldn’t resist the gentle tease.

  “Yes, but nobody will see us tonight.”

  “What if they do?” The notion aroused rather than appalled him. Then she would have no choice. There would be no getting out of this. He could contrive to be seen going back to his room or leaving her chamber. But no, he would not stoop to such tactics. Because that would hurt her. For himself he cared not, but he hated to see Livia distressed.

  Another reaction he needed to ponder.

  “If people see you here? You know what would happen.” She grasped his arm, curling her small fingers around his wrist. But she could not encircle even that part of him. Nevertheless, he didn’t resist her loose hold. “Please, can you be careful?”

  “I swear I will. But that does not change my mind. Don’t you worry about me and my reputation?” He had to ask. He would do his best not to bring trouble to her, but with his reputation, they would have a lot to live down.

  “No. My family has its own scandals.” She bit her lip. “I have scandals of my own.” She gazed up at him as if she could rival him in scandal.

  He sensed the precariousness of his position. He could not begin to tell her that story. She had accepted that he was the son of his mother and her black page, like all London. She’d called the boy Marsala, but Adrian could not bring himself to call the unfortunate boy by the name of a fortified wine. He never knew the boy’s real name, except, in the way of these things, he’d borne Adrian’s own surname, Sterling. “You will meet my mother, by and by.” Because he could not avoid that. She would learn the truth then.

  “Will I?”

  “After the wedding.”

  “But we are not marrying.” She tightened her hold on his wrist. “We agreed to part, you know we did!”

  He shook his head, still smiling. “You did, sweet Livia. I did not. If there is any jilting to be done, you must do it.” Resting his hand on her shoulder, he gazed at her. Her blue eyes glittered in the golden light. “I will not do it. And if you want me in your bed again, we will agree to marry before any possible consequences occur.”

  “But you—you took care of that.” Her eyes widened, and her throat tightened. He had her.

  Ruthlessly, he went in for the kill. “Nothing is certain, sweet Livia. No method is completely without risk. I told you that before we made love.”

  “Fucked,” she said, short and succinctly.

  The word on her lips shocked him so much he burst into laughter. “Such a word to come from a lady!”

  “I have brothers,” she said, reddening.

  He gave up resisting the siren lure of that blush and moved down, kissing her cheeks, then her mouth, but softly. “Whatever you did, I made love,” he said firmly. He guessed she had used the word to shock him. She would have to do much better than that. And that word never used in polite society, but everywhere else, including the clubs of St. James and Pall Mall, sounded sweetly innocent on her lips.

  Truth, he was still speaking the truth. He had made love to her. That was why he was still here. That was no swift, necessary coupling, leaving both parties satisfied but separate. The act had joined them in a way he found unfamiliar. And addictive. He wanted more of what she had given him, and by God, he’d take it. “However,” he said, kissing down her face to her throat, “if you wish to continue using such language when we’re alone, please take the liberty of doing so. I find those words falling from your sweet lips stimulating in the extreme.”

  “No,” she moaned, “you cannot think so.”

  “If you don’t think so, then you do not know men as well as you think.” He glanced up at her face. That pink glow remained, but embarrassment was no longer the sole cause. Her nipples were hard, grazing his chest, little points of desire. Bending his head, he took one into his mouth, sucking it to render it harder. Delicious. Her moans drove him to do more. Restlessly shifting, she pushed her fingers into his hair, which had come undone hours ago, pressing her fingers against his skull.

  The other nippl
e tasted just as good, if not better. Releasing it, he admired the result before he kissed around the rosy circle, working his way out to the flushed skin, softly inviting. His cock had hardened, almost painful in its intensity. This time he would pleasure her the way she had evidently expected. And it would be as good as putting her on all fours. Better, because he learned more about her body every time he touched her. She was a library after a lifetime of single books.

  He dipped his tongue into her navel, then explored her hips. Few people knew how sensitive the pocket of flesh inside the cup of the hip could be, but Adrian played and explored there, chuckling when she tried to push him away or move from his attentions. But when he heeded her wishes and put space between them, she whimpered. She’d enjoyed it, but perhaps the sensation was too insensitive for a woman as aroused as she was. He nuzzled into the soft nest of red-gold curls at her groin. The hair here was a shade darker than that on her head, and it smelled, well, delicious. Sharp, less musky than he’d expected. And, as he’d anticipated, delicious.

  “No, you can’t,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

  “Watch me.” He propped his chin on the prominent bone on her mound of Venus, flipped the sheets back and gazed up at her. “I can, sweetheart, and I have every intention of doing so.”

  “But I…” She licked her lips.

  With a groan, he separated the hair, finding her center, and parted her lips delicately. The scent of her arousal increased and his mouth watered. That little pearl of desire peeked mischievously at him. That belonged to him. “Have you ever played with yourself here?” He touched it with the tip of his tongue.

  “No!” She sounded scandalized.

  He should be the scandalized one, to hear she had not even experienced self-pleasure, but he could only be glad he was the one who would introduce her to it. Another time. Tonight, this belonged to him. And for a long time to come, if he had anything to do with it.

  He sucked, savoring and memorizing her taste. He would never eat tart apples without thinking of Livia from now on. Already wet, she gave him more as he explored her. Her hand still gripped his scalp. She could rip his hair out for all he cared, as long as she kept giving those little moans.

  “Oh nonononono!” she said, writhing to one side, pulling away from him.

  He put his hand on her thigh, halting her retreat. “You want me to stop?”

  “No!” That was more emphatic and said with a certain enunciation that made him smile. “It’s just—oh, Lord, what do I mean?”

  “Wait and see.” He moved her back so he could taste her some more. Increasing the suction, he found her deliciously responsive, especially when he pushed a finger inside her, to the place he wanted to be. He knew where her special spot was now, the place that enhanced all sensation, and he used it mercilessly.

  Arching her back, she cried out, and her passage clamped down on his finger in a series of flutters that he loved. Already he was at the level of arousal he’d felt before. Would that ever pass? He wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

  Surging up the bed, flinging the covers aside, he nudged her legs apart and settled between them. Her hands rose to cup his shoulders as if she’d done it for years, so natural did it feel.

  “Kiss me,” she said, her voice all breath and little sound.

  He didn’t need the sound. Guiding his cock with one hand, he slid inside her as he fastened his lips to hers, letting her taste herself on him. The remains of her arousal still quivered along his length as he entered her, pushing him up too far. He sensed all his body, every knob of his spine, every rib, every breath he took, the total awareness too much. Almost too much. Because he would feel her convulse around him before they were done.

  In this state she would not care what he did. He could release inside her and she would not object. That would force her to marry him soon. But she had accepted him, her generosity as great as her arousal. She trusted him.

  When was the last time anyone had trusted him?

  Livia humbled him, particularly when he’d discussed an early marriage with her. For that reason he would not give in to his baser urges but would force himself to spend on her belly. Last time he had nearly left it too late, but one final withdrawal when all his body screamed at him to plunge deep and the gust of cool air when he’d pulled out had proved enough.

  It had to be so this time.

  Pulling back from the kiss, he watched her, and her reaction to his lovemaking. He held nothing back but let her see the fierce determination in his face, the way he was sinking into her. She kept her eyes open, watching him.

  He’d never made love to anyone with such expressive responses. Her openness enchanted him; the way she pressed on his shoulders for more, trying to guide him, and then slid her hand down his body to rest it on his buttock. He loved that.

  She responded so well with her body too, lifting to meet his thrusts, holding her body open to receive him, then angling her lower body to achieve greater penetration. “Lift your legs,” he murmured to her, and she did so, gripping his flanks with her thighs as he plunged deep, then withdrew, working to hit her special spot with every thrust.

  Fever mounted in him, driving him hard, until he had to strain every nerve to hold back, to keep himself from spending inside her. But until she came again—ah yes, there it was, that first twitch of her passage around him.

  With a cry, Livia arched up, almost turning her body into an inverted C shape, and she gripped his cock with an intensity he didn’t think he could escape. But her violence grew less pronounced, until, while she was still suffering her little death, he pulled out and pressed into her stomach, feeling the wetness of his seed between them. Each spurt took him to another place, into her, with her.

  Panting, they stared at each other. “And that,” he said softly, “is why we are getting married as soon as it can be arranged.”

  Chapter 15

  Livia woke, as she nearly always did, alone. But she was hugging a pillow, which was something she never did.

  Her maid bustled around, getting her clothes ready for the day. A deep red today, Livia noted. Unless she demurred, Finch generally selected her clothes.

  Sighing, she rolled over and reached for her hot chocolate.

  Adrian waited for her in the breakfast parlor. He had made himself at home, as if he’d always lived here, and Livia’s mama had declared him a delightful guest, telling Livia’s papa that she was sure his reputation was mainly because of his birth and not his actions.

  Livia wasn’t so sure. If the marchioness had known what they’d done last night, she wouldn’t be so sure either.

  Adrian gave her a look that told her if nobody else was present, he would be kissing her right now. She gave him a tremulous smile in return, despite not being a tremulous kind of woman. He made her shake, he made her want. And now, she knew exactly what she wanted.

  Getting to his feet, he kissed her hand—the palm—and led her to a seat next to him. Then he went to the sideboard and loaded a plate for her. Her mother gave her a most unladylike wink and a smile, while pouring Livia a dish of tea.

  Sighing, Livia gave in to the inevitable. He wanted to spoil her, so she would let him do so. It was rather sweet, actually.

  But she nearly choked on her first mouthful of egg when Adrian announced, “Livia and I would like to wed before Christmas. The contract is signed, and there is no necessity to wait.”

  Lady Strenshall was the first to regain her breath. While Livia was coping with her food and reaching for the tea, she said, “Indeed? But we will need to have the banns read. And marrying in Lent isn’t something the vicar of our parish allows.”

  Adrian shrugged, and Livia breathed a sigh of relief. Despite last night, she couldn’t imagine being ready. Although…

  Adrian reached into his pocket. “I have a special license. I procured it after we signed the contract and before I left London
.”

  “Goodness!” Livia’s mama pressed her hand to her bosom. “You have come prepared. Nevertheless—”

  Before she could register her protest, Livia’s papa interrupted her. “My brother should be arriving today.” He bestowed a smile on the happy couple. “He’s the Bishop of Scarborough. He can visit the vicar in the village, obtain the parish register and we can do the deed here in the chapel.”

  Livia could hardly believe what was happening. Had her father and her husband concocted this plan to rush her to the altar? From the conspiratorial glance the men exchanged, she could believe that.

  Lady Strenshall’s perceptive gaze went from Livia’s heated cheeks to Adrian’s fond smile. “I can see that he makes you happy, my dear. I am surprised, but after all it is high time. I’m so glad you are putting the past behind you.”

  Perhaps she should. Perhaps, after all, it was time she put the future first. Adrian had helped her past one hurdle. The next was a high one, but she might do it. But so soon?

  After a flurry of congratulations from everyone present, including her sister Claudia, Livia finally left the breakfast parlor and leaned closer to Adrian. “A word,” she said.

  “Of course, my love.”

  Being a nearly married couple gave them privileges even a betrothed pair could not command. This time when he led her to a parlor, her mother merely told her to leave the door open. But she did not station a servant outside it, giving them a degree of privacy.

  Livia needed it.

  But anticipating her protests, Adrian caught her in his arms and gave her a kiss that took her breath away. “Listen,” he said firmly, when finally he came up for air. “Last night we turned our betrothal into something we will not retreat from. I told you I didn’t want to spend another night away from you, and I meant it.”