by Stacy Reid
Footsteps sounded along the corridor, and she made a mad dash toward a linen closet and ducked inside giggling. She waited until the loud steps passed, then opened the door and peeked through the slight crack. Adel spied Viscount Ravenswood, Evie’s brother, standing at a door, looking left and then right. He knocked once and it was flung open to reveal another guest clad in a very sheer and provocative nightgown. A blush reddened Adel’s cheeks when the lady hugged him and her hand slid down to cup Lord Ravenswood’s backside. A husky laugh slipped from him, and as he kissed her and they tumbled into the room. The rogue!
Adel moved cautiously out of her hiding place and hurried along the hallway. After turning left, she counted until she arrived at the fifth door. With a quick glance each way along the hallway, she uncurled her clenched fist and retrieved the keys. A faint stirring of unease tried to rear its head. She closed her eyes and recalled the heavy and frightful press of the earl’s body against hers, his sweaty palms that had dug into the soft flesh of her thighs as he struggled to raise her gown. That, and perhaps much worse she had to look forward to, if she did not succeed tonight. Grief lay heavy on her heart. How she wished her father had listened to her pleas to wed Mr. Atwood. Firming her shoulders, she inserted the key and twisted. The door opened on a soft snick and she entered.
She leaned against the door. I’ve done it! The fire on the hearth had burned down to orange embers and there was a distinct chill in the air. She lost precious seconds standing by the door, wondering what next to do. Adel curled her feet into the expensive carpet, seeking warmth. Why had she not thought to slip her feet into slippers?
The bed creaked slightly.
She frowned. “Mr. Atwood?”
Maddening silence. Then a soft rumble rose from the bed in the far corner and she muffled a startled squeak. Swallowing a nervous chuckle she peered, trying to make out his form in the darkened room. Drifting closer, she muttered an unladylike curse as she stubbed her toes on something hard. She stooped and felt around.
It was the bed. How had it moved from that corner to here? Confusion rushed through her and she lurched upright. The sudden move made her dizzy and she stumbled, landing on the bed in an undignified heap onto a very hard body.
Good heavens!
…
Edmond was roused to full consciousness by the lightest caress. There was a soft weight on his shoulder, the heated press of a palm. The delicate tips of a single finger skimmed over his naked chest, the touch was tentative, curious even, a gentle foray that spoke of inexperience, yet his cock surged to life with painful immediacy. The betrayal of his body froze him, and he remained still as the caress became firmer, even more seductive, causing his length to flex, his heart to jerk, and his mouth to go ridiculously dry. Impossible.
He subtly inhaled. Her fragrance was clean and sweet. No cloying perfume, simply the fresh scent of lavender soap and roses. His reaction to this stranger was thrilling and unpardonable in equal measure.
“Are you awake?” The voice was raspy, seductive, and a bit fearful. Before he could respond she spoke, “Your body is harder than I imagined it would be.”
The awe in her voice was evident, and a fleeting smile touched his lips.
“Why are you sleeping without a nightshirt?” The pique in the tone was glaring.
Delicate fingers glided over his chest, dipping low, skimming over his tensed abdomen to stop at his hip. Edmond frowned as everything in him reacted. His cock twitched, his heart raced even more, and hot and urgent desire coiled in his gut. He savored the barest of touches, not realizing how desperate he’d been for a woman’s enticing embrace. Warring needs swirled inside of Edmond. He wanted to push away this unknown woman that smelled like temptation, but the need was also there to sate this surprising hunger—a hunger he had long denied.
Three years and seven months.
It was the desperation that grounded him, and allowed him to tamp down on his sudden lustful urges. He would never allow such emotions to hold sway over him again. He shifted with all intention of leaving the warm confines of the bed when the figure tumbled forward. A warm kiss pressed into the hollow of his throat, and soft feminine curves arched into him.
Edmond couldn’t help it. He groaned. Breathing slowly, he calmed himself, willing his body to relax. Who would be so bold? Lady Evelyn? Damned unlikely. The light glowing from the embers of the fireplace were too low for him to ascertain her features. Hell…was he even truly awake?
“I missed you today. Why did you not ask me to dance at all tonight?”
Ah, so this was a dream, the result of imbibing a few more glasses of brandy in the cold loneliness of the library before retiring. A dangerous need rode Edmond, and the temptation to slake his hunger in her willing warmth was overwhelming.
A gentle nip at his throat as if punishment for being absent, then a kiss soothing the sting. A whiff of her sweet breath teased his nostrils. Sherry. So his intrepid seducer had consumed liquor to shore up her fortitude. Was the lady drunk?
A sigh wafted from her on a soft moan. “You smell different… I like it, very much,” she whispered almost shyly.
As if they had a will of their own, his hands searched, found her hips and tugged her closer. His body hummed with eagerness and desire heated his blood. Edmond drew her up to him, and dipped his head. He lightly grazed her cheek with his lips, and pressed a light kiss down to her neck. So damn tempting.
“I believe I want you to kiss me,” she gasped, astonishment rife in her tone.
She nuzzled into his chest and his control began to fray, thread by thread. Edmond pressed an open mouth kiss to the tiny pulse flickering wildly above her collarbone and inhaled her scent into his lungs, wanting to trap the refreshing fragrance. As he nipped at her tender flesh with his teeth, she shivered violently, and a soft moan slipped from her.
“I…I feel…warm, and there is a strange feeling fluttering in my stomach.”
His body was rebelling at his self-imposed celibacy and his cock was leading the charge. With a muttered epithet he drew her closer, wanting to dip his fingers beneath her gown to find out how passionate a woman she was. Through the fog of lust shrouding his logical thoughts, common sense reared its head. He’d never had a faceless liaison, and he was not about to start. But devil take it. He felt something other than blinding pain and emptiness for the first time, in what felt like a lifetime. Before he could decide how to handle his unexpected companion, the softest of lips settled on his. Sweet Christ. Rational thought told him to push her away, but everything burned under the tide of excruciating lust.
This must be a dream…a hidden fantasy bourgeoning to life from abject misery, seeking something new and wonderful. Never had Edmond felt such an intensity of desire. This was an aberration…a distressingly enticing one.
She parted her lips on a sigh, and he took ruthless advantage. He allowed his tongue to stroke inside of her mouth, to twine with hers as he slanted her head, deepening an already far too intimate kiss. Her flavor exploded on his tongue, and he bit back the deep groan wanting to erupt from the cold place inside him that seemed to have thawed to molten lava. The taste of her was indescribable—sweet, warm, carnal. She whimpered, and then the timid slide of her tongue met his.
It took all of his years of discipline, not to tumble her onto her back, and take her. He worshipped her mouth, giving her no chance to retreat, and it distantly resounded that she did not want to flee from his embrace. She arched to him, her breasts unconfined beneath the nightgown she wore, and he itched to cup her breasts and feel her nipples stabbing into his palm.
She pulled from him, trembling. “I…I…between my legs…aches…Mr. Atwood, I…you’ve never kissed me like that before.”
Mr. Atwood?
“This is so wonderfully reckless, but kiss me again,” she breathed, sounding dazed, and if he was not mistaken, a bit tippled. “Kiss me again,” she demanded fiercely.
Yes, Edmond’s body shouted. But he wouldn’t. He called himse
lf all sorts of foolish names. But he couldn’t allow it to go further, not when she clearly thought he was someone else. He would be more than a despicable cur to press an advantage. No matter how much his cock ached. “No,” he groaned, tempted beyond measure, pulling fully from her clasp.
As expected she froze at his voice. A tremor ran down her taut spine, and then she burst into a flurry of movements, twisting the sheets around her body in her haste. Unfortunately rubbing the soft pad of her ass into his lap. “Be still!”
“Please, no. No! This cannot be so…” Her whisper of dread and frantic movements only served to inflame his ardor. She twisted and he bit back a groan, as she rubbed at his aroused length.
His hips surged against his will, pressing harder into her, and she became motionless at the evidence of his desire.
He heard her gulp. Then she shivered. “Please let me go.”
He complied immediately.
As if afraid to make any sudden movements, she took her time sliding from his lap. Edmond wanted to curse, as the sinuous shift caused him to throb. He hissed a sigh of relief when her body was away from him completely.
Her erratic breathing was loud in the chamber.
“Who are you?”
Chapter Four
I am ruined by the wrong man.
Adel had suspected something was wrong from her dizzying reaction to the man’s closeness. Mr. Atwood had never made her feel such wanton heat from a mere touch. But she had foolishly dismissed the warning clangs away, thinking it was the fright and exhilaration of doing something so wickedly forbidden…and the mystifying power of the liquid courage.
There was a shuffle. Then a tinderbox was struck, and the candle on the nightstand was lit.
Her breath caught audibly and unknown sensations erupted below her navel. He was savagely beautiful, and nothing like her Mr. Atwood. The bold angles of this unknown man’s face hinted at restrained power. Cynicism and sensuality combined in the hard lines of his mouth. As she recalled the sublime taste and the feel of those firm, sensual lips, she trembled, noticing eyes that belonged to a hawk sharpen with interest. He continued to stare without speaking and a curious tightening sensation clenched deep inside, rooting her.
It made her feel very uncomfortable. In fact, he had a quality of stillness that she found unnerving. But it was his eyes…they were empty and devoid of the passion and intent she had certainly felt in his touch. Suddenly her heart ached for this man, whoever he was.
His expression was impassive. “I will ask again, who are you and why are you in my bed?” His tone was rough, and devilishly sinful.
Devilishly sinful…oh… She read too many romantic novels. Adel’s mortifying response must be on account of the few glasses of sherry. “Surely you do not expect me to own to my identity?”
He chuckled, the sound full of dark challenge. “Yes, in fact, I insist upon it.”
She blinked. He was most assuredly serious. The glow from the candle was very weak. If she could barely ascertain his features, surely he might not recognize her in the light of day. “I bid you good-bye,” Adel said.
She made to launch from the bed, and swifter than she tracked, a firm hand clasped her wrist. Sudden fear sliced through the false relaxation she had been lulled into by her liquid courage.
“Tell me your name before you leave,” he demanded, sounding earnest and mystified in the same breath. Then he scowled and released her, as if he had been stung. “Go,” he bit out sharply. “Before I do something foolish in my desire to find out who you are and how you had the means to enter my locked chamber.”
Who was he? And why was she in his chamber? There was a niggle of uncertainty, and she frowned, wading through the haze, the steps she had taken to arrive at this particular chamber. “Oh, God someone is going to come soon!” Adel scrambled from the bed, tripping on the sheets in her haste. A spasm of fear coursed through her at the realization Evie would have her mother barging in at any moment. “I thought you were someone else, and I must leave immediately. Please, sir, I beg of you do not repeat this story to anyone!”
There was simply no time for her to ascertain his intention, and to extract a promise of silence. On the heels of her proclamation the door was flung open and everything inside of Adel collapsed in dread. She would never recover from this.
Oh, God, Mr. Atwood.
She had lost him, and the hope of freedom.
The man’s hand darted with a speed she almost missed and his forefingers pinched the flickering flame of the wick, plunging the room into darkness. Only the light spilling in from the hallway offered some sight.
“Upon my word, Miss Adeline!” Lady Gladstone gasped, clearly able to still recognize Adel.
Her breath rasped and her heart pounded. No…no, no. She clenched her eyes shut. She couldn’t credit what was happening. Everything had been so perfectly planned. She couldn’t have been found in bed with a stranger. She hurried forward, praying she would not stumble. “I swear to you on my honor, Lady Gladstone, this is a dreadful mistake and there is a very reasonable explanation. If you would quickly close the door, I will—”
Heavy footsteps sounded and Lord Vale appeared in the doorway, and the hopes Adel had to extricate herself diminished by the second. What was he doing here? Confusion bubbled inside her. Where was Evie?
“Lady Gladstone, is all well? I received a note to meet you here most urgently. Decidedly odd, if I may so say.”
The earl’s gaze homed in on Adel and his eyes widened then narrowed in awareness. He glanced to the bed and rage lit in his eyes. “Who in the devil are you and why are you in a chamber alone with my fiancée, you blackguard?” Lord Vale demanded, storming into the chambers with his fists clenched at his side. “I will demand satisfaction for this!”
“My lord! I am not your fiancée.” The words slipped from her involuntarily and the room went deathly quiet.
A gasp sounded, and she looked past the earl and spied Viscount Ravenswood. His shocked eyes raked over her, before swinging to the darkened bed. Panic clawed at Adel’s throat. The situation was worsening by the second.
This was a humiliating spectacle.
The man in the bed said nothing. Was he in shock? Oh Lord, he must be. Certainly he was analyzing the dreaded implications of her foolish, foolish plans. What if this unknown man was married, or promised to another? The scandal would be horrifying. The light from the candles in the corridor was meager, and she was grateful his identity was protected. What if he had a wife?
He kissed you, a small voice reminded her. Surely a man who already held the affections of another woman would not behave so?
Please say something, she silently urged him, tears prickling behind her lids. As surely as she had ruined her life with the eyes of the ton looking on, she had compromised his. The most heartbreaking and alarming conclusions Adel realized, was that this had all been orchestrated by her dearest friend. The haze from the sherry was already lifting, and it was becoming clear what had transpired. After all, it was Evie who had snuck Adel new keys saying she’d made a mistake earlier. Evie was the person who had encouraged Adel to take a few sips of sherry, to bolster her nerves, and had been there when Adel consumed three full glasses.
Shocked murmurs spilled in from the hallway, and several footsteps sounded along the corridor. Seconds later Lord Gladstone framed the door, with the Viscountess of Marriot, one of the most notorious gossips in society. On a defeated sigh, Adel crumpled into the lone sofa in the chamber and buried her face in her hands.
Why, Evie?
…
I thought you were someone else. Edmond ignored the harsh gasp of those gathered in the doorway. His host and hostess, their son, the Earl of Vale, and Lady Marriot spilled farther into his chambers. Edmond supposed he could be grateful there was not a greater audience. He directed his attention to the young lady he had been seconds away from ravishing. He was much used to scandal and rabid speculation, but Society would not be kind to the unknown lady and
they would shred her to pieces. Although she had known they would appear. Perhaps she was more mercenary in her thoughts, and not as fragile as many of the young misses of the ton.
Though pale with fright and mortification, she was hauntingly lovely with a heart-shaped face dominated by enchanting almond shaped eyes, which were a stunning shade of hazel. Her hair was black as the deepest darkness of night, and her lips were wide and pouting.
Her loveliness was heart jerking. She had tested the mettle of his control and he had failed. An unusual occurrence as he had never before been so consumed by passion. She had tasted delectable, her flavor one of pure addictive temptation that had tempted him to sink his cock into a woman he had never seen. Madness. Utter reckless madness.
What had possessed him? The only thing he was sure of was that a prayer, even when muttered hastily, on occasion seemed to work. He had braced himself to enter the dreaded marriage mart, after surmising Lady Evelyn would reject his offer. And now a young lady was fortuitously dropped into his lap…into his bed.
He would need to be swift and decisive in order to stem the tide of scandal that would surely follow. She was irrefutably ruined. Edmond had become accustomed to the worst that Society could offer in regards to malicious gossiping. This young lady would be destroyed in the most absolute sense. Honor demanded that he wed her, yet he hesitated. She had roused his body before he’d even seen her, and now looking at her dark exotic beauty, the craving only stirred with more turbulence. The last thing he wanted was a wife he would desire, after all, intimacy between a man and woman always led to greater sentiment, and to love was surely the path to irrevocable heartache. Bloody hell.
What the hell was he to do? With the scandal that had embraced him following his wife’s death, he could walk away unchallenged from the gossip, but it would be unconscionable to leave this young lady to the vultures. Edmond would crush any man who would even think to treat his daughters with such callous disregard. Yet he could not take a woman like her to be his wife. Even now, with an audience, he was in the shadows fighting the lust pounding through his veins, and fervently willing his damn cock to subside. “Everyone out,” he said, rousing from the bed.