He pulled his lips from hers, but his mouth hovered a breath from her own. He locked gazes with her, and she gasped at the desire and tenderness in his onyx depths. Alethea swallowed, hoping and praying he would satisfy them both.
Instead, he dragged his nails down her flesh then gripped her hips, drawing her against his body.
Declan ran his nose against her cheek, down to her jaw, where he nibbled gently until he reached her ear. “You seem disappointed.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She sighed.
“Tell me where you want to be touched.”
Heat spread like a roaring inferno from her face down to her toes. She opened her mouth but no sound came out, so she snapped it shut. “You know where I wished to be touched,” she whispered.
“Do I?” His eyes twinkled. “Was it here?” He raised his hands to cradle her head, his fingers loosening her curls. With bridled ferocity, he kissed her until she sagged against the tree. “Did I get it right?”
She blinked her eyes open—when had she closed them?—and gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”
He chuckled. “You’re not paying attention, my dear.”
She braced her hands on his chest and pushed until he took a step back. “That’s because you’re always distracting me. And you knew I was going to win, so you changed the rules.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Declan leaned close, his gaze fixed on her mouth before drifting down her body. “I always knew I would catch you.”
Alethea’s breath caught at his words. He raised his gaze to meet hers and a fist squeezed her heart at the certainty she saw there.
“I want to satisfy my lady. I can’t do that if she’s not forthcoming with me.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a staying hand. “I was merely hoping you would tell me…with your mouth…what your body is so obviously saying with its actions.”
Her skin grew hot and she waited a heartbeat before she said, “You like kissing me against trees, don’t you?”
Declan laughed. “Now that you mention it, I suppose I do.”
She smiled up at him, her lungs expanding until she could nigh breathe. Just being near him, hearing his merry laugh, had chased away the pain of her father’s betrayal and gave her a respite from her troubles. For today, at least.
…
In theory, three stories didn’t sound particularly high.
But now that Declan stared up at her window, he understood the scope of his endeavor. A vine snaked along the Rockhaven Court facade, and he considered whether it would support his weight, or if he’d find himself nursing a bruised posterior.
Or a broken head.
Neither possibility appealed to him as he glared at the balcony far above.
For the past two days, he and Alethea had enjoyed getting to know each other again. Stolen hours spent talking, reminiscing, and sharing tales of their years apart underneath the boughs of the elm tree in their private, secluded clearing had renewed their bonds of friendship. Playful jests and bouts of laughter had allowed them to relax into the easy harmony they once shared. But feverish kisses and slow caresses had eased them into new, uncharted territory, where neither was just the boy or girl next door. Now each viewed the other through a lens of mutual desire. Earthquaking, volcanic-eruption-level desire.
Declan studied the balcony on the third floor and replayed in his mind the words she’d uttered as they lay entangled under their elm tree. I wish I could lie in your arms tonight. I have to believe it will be the first of many nights together.
For all their past adventures, her chamber was one place he’d never been. Until now, he’d never considered it. Still, he couldn’t tell her no. She was due to return to London, and the easy freedom they’d exploited would be no more.
It was well past midnight and the house was dark. Although she and Finlay were the only family members in residence, an army of servants resided inside the manor walls, but the home was as quiet as a crypt.
But if he were discovered lurking among the immaculately maintained flowerbeds that hugged the exterior of the limestone manor, the entire house would light up like the fireworks at Vauxhall Gardens. And Finlay Swinton would lead the charge to defend his sister’s honor.
Just that morning, Firthwell had been lying in wait for Declan when he walked into the stables at Darington Manor. Albert had expanded and improved the facilities during his tenure as duke, and Declan had still not familiarized himself with all aspects of the large building. Stalls seemed to stretch out in all directions, and since his attentions had been focused on an enchanting redhead, he hadn’t taken the time to investigate what the new buildings had to offer. Thus, the viscount had the luxury of catching him unawares.
“Will you make it a habit to kiss my sister every day in the meadow by the estate line, or only on those days ending in y?”
Declan had spun around, his hand reaching for the knife he always kept tucked into his boot. But Finlay’s curious expression, as he leaned casually against the stall door, relaxed him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Is that the tack you intend to take then? I saw you and Alethea locked in each other’s arms so tight, I would have needed steel tools to pry you apart.” He shuddered. “Not that I would ever want to get that close.”
A chuckle wrenched from Declan’s mouth. “It was just a ki—”
The viscount crossed his arms over his chest. “How quickly you both forgot the meadow had been my playground, too. Did you think I wouldn’t find my way there?” He cocked his head to the side. “What are your intentions?”
“I intend to marry her.”
Finlay merely nodded, as if Declan had stated it would rain that afternoon. Declan frowned.
“After my comments in London, did you expect me to object?” The viscount’s lips twitched.
“Yes, in fact, I did.”
“It only makes sense. I’m surprised my father keeps pushing this Connington alliance when he could have a duke as a son-in-law.”
Declan looked at Finlay askance. “Do you know why the earl wants to marry Allie off to Connington? Surely she’s had multiple offers before this one. Why him? Why now?”
The viscount stared at him. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
After several minutes had ticked off the clock, Finlay had pushed away from the door and placed his hat on his head. As he pivoted to withdraw, he looked over his shoulder just as Declan glanced up from his work.
“We leave in two days. I don’t know what our schedule will be like when we return, but I would bet a month’s allowance we’ll be seeing more of Lord Connington. Until our departure, I will conveniently be busy with estate matters. I doubt I’ll have an opportunity to see you again. Make the most of it…Your Grace.”
Finlay’s words rang in his ears now as Declan stared up at the third-floor balcony. He was confident the viscount didn’t mean for him to take such scandalous steps, but sometimes such measures were warranted. Alethea would leave on the morrow, and once she was ensconced in her father’s townhome, he wasn’t sure when he would be able to see her again. The thought of wasting their last unhindered night together was a sacrifice he was not willing to make.
With a soul-strengthening breath, Declan reached out and grasped the vine, relieved to find it thick and sturdy in his hand. With methodical movements, he soon reached the railing and vaulted over it. One of the two double doors was propped open, allowing temperate summer air to rush unheeded into the room. He followed its path.
The room was dark, but in the moonlight filtering around him, he could make out a figure in the large bed. He approached on cautious steps and came to a halt when the bed skirt brushed against his boots.
Alethea lay curled on her side, her fist tucked under her chin. Her hair, which spilled across her pillow behind her, seemed to illuminate the space, as if it contained the glow of a hundred candle flames. He curled his hands when they reached to bury themselves in her sleek strand
s.
Belatedly, he realized, and only when his cock rose to attention, that she wore only a thin chemise. The cambric barrier did little to shield her from his eager eyes, and they hungrily feasted on the gentle rise and fall of her full breasts, the shadowed profile of a dusky nipple clearly visible through the material. His gaze drifted downward to take in the way her body dipped into a small waist before flaring out to generous hips. Long, shapely legs lay tangled in the covers, and her dainty feet were barely visible in the pile of satin.
As quietly as he could, Declan sank onto the mattress next to her, and exhaled when she didn’t stir at the gentle rocking motion. Unbidden, his fingers laced into her riot of curls, and he picked up a lock and ran its feathered tip against his lips.
“Am I dreaming, or are you really here?”
Her sleep-laden voice drew his head up, and he found her watching him, a dreamy smile gracing her beautiful mouth. She reached a hand to him, as if to test whether he was corporeal or not.
Declan grasped her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, allowing his tongue to dart out and lick her sensitive flesh. A tremor raced down her arm. “I’m very much real. I wanted this to be our first night as well.”
With her hand in his grasp, he pulled until she sat up and he could reel her into his arms. She curled onto his lap willingly and was a warm, honeysuckle-scented bundle of silken curves. He buried his face into the crook of her neck.
“I wish I could wake up to this every day,” he said hoarsely, suddenly overcome with frustration. Being together should be as easy as the laughter they shared.
“And what girl wouldn’t delight in waking to a handsome man in her bed?” Her breath tickled the fine hairs on the back of his neck.
They sat silently for several minutes. Perhaps she sensed, too, how different things would be once she returned to London at sunrise. And like him, she was willing to court disaster to cling to what they shared for as much time as they could steal.
“Can we leave talk of what’s to come for later?” she whispered. “I didn’t think a man would be interested in conversation when he worked hard to sneak into a woman’s room on the third floor in the middle of the night.”
Declan turned onto his back and forced himself to remain still while she explored him, her lips sliding across his jaw as she slowly unfurled his cravat before tracing down his neck to the drawstring of his shirt. When she untied it and allowed her slim hand to dip below the collar, her fingernails gently skating over his chest, he shuddered as he tried to tamp down the rush of desire battering the dam of his self-control.
“What did you think a man would be interested in when he found himself in a woman’s bedchamber in the middle of the night?” he asked through gritted teeth.
She pushed his shirt off one shoulder and kissed the skin she revealed. “Things that involve kissing.” She reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, and he raised his arms as she pulled it over his head. “Things that involve skin touching skin.” Her hot hands drifted over his naked chest, and he fully expected to see burn marks on his skin in the morning. Alethea rose onto her knees and leaned close, her lips feathering across his ear. “Things that turn words into moans.” And she bit his lobe.
With a growl, Declan pushed her back on the bed and straddled her, before he grasped the front of her night rail in his hands and rent it in two.
“That was the single most exhilarating thing I’ve experienced in my whole life.” Her words were breathless and her eyes glinted with passion.
He opened his mouth to respond, but the sight of her body unwrapped stole the words from him and wiped all thoughts from his mind. The sheer cambric had hinted at the treasures it covered, but nothing prepared him for Alethea in the flesh. In the smooth pink flesh.
His hands shook with reverence as he drew his fingertips over the line of her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, and to her navel. She watched him with wide, trusting eyes, and Declan knew he would do everything in his power to honor her trust.
He dragged his lips across the path his fingers had mapped, and smiled when he heard her sigh as any lingering nervousness left her body, and she lay limp and relaxed. Gooseflesh puckered her skin, and he hoped his warm breath chased them away. When he reached her breasts, he admired their shape and their pretty pink nipples, which pebbled and begged for his attention. When his lips closed around one, her soft moan traveled straight from her lips to his cock.
He laved her tender flesh, before turning to her other breast to subject it to the same treatment. Alethea writhed in his arms, her fingers running along his scalp before pulling on his hair. Her passionate, unbridled response nearly drove him into a lustful frenzy, but he gripped the reins of his control as tightly as he could, even as he reluctantly released her breasts and traveled farther down her body.
Declan pushed her thighs wide, angling his shoulders between them, and she rose on her elbows to look down at him. But he ignored her, and instead ran a finger down her cleft, biting back a curse when he found her wet. Without preamble, he dipped his head and tasted her.
“Oh God, wh-what are you doing?” she moaned, even as she gripped the sheets under her.
He darted his tongue against her nub and smiled when her nails bit into his scalp. “I’m learning your body, my love. I plan to be its most dedicated student.” He blew softly against her heated flesh and she shivered. “Every touch, every taste, everything that makes you moan, makes you sigh, makes you cry out in pleasure, will be known by me.”
A strangled groan met his words, so he returned his attention to her delicate flesh. When he introduced a finger, she raised her hips greedily to accept it, and soon Declan found her undulating on his hand as she chased her release, her cries smothered by the fist she placed in her mouth. And when it came upon her, he observed it as proudly as if he’d taught her how to fly.
When her tremors stopped, she collapsed onto the bed and he crawled up to join her. He pulled her into his arms and ran a hand down her smooth, naked back.
“That…was…unbelievable,” she managed, her voice raspy.
“It was. But then you are, too, so I can’t say I’m surprised.”
She turned in his arms and looked up at him, her expression one of deep contentment. “But what of you?”
“Helping you find your pleasure brought me pleasure.”
“But…” She glanced down at the bulge in his trousers. “It would bring me pleasure to touch you.”
Declan swallowed and reached for the falls of his breeches, alarmed to find his hands shook. When the last button was undone, his cock sprang free and Alethea took him in hand with only a second’s hesitation.
She explored him for several minutes, which seemed like painful decades to Declan, until he took her hand and wrapped it around him. He showed her how to stroke him, and soon he was arching into her touch. When his release came, it exploded from him, and he tucked his head into the crook of her neck as the shudders faded away.
He reached for a handkerchief in his coat, and quickly cleaned himself before he relaxed on the bed once more, as sated as she.
Her fingers ran through the hairs on his chest. “Why did you not…consummate our relationship?” she asked.
“There are many ways to experience pleasure, and I intend to show you all of them, if you’ll let me. When we finally consummate all that is between us, I don’t want it to be a stolen moment where we have to watch the level of our cries lest we be discovered.” Propping himself up on his hand, he looked down at her, rubbing her lip with his thumb. “I intend to make you scream my name to the heavens the first time I join with you, and I have no intention of doing that with your brother down the hall.”
A giggle escaped her. “That would be mortifying.”
Determined not to allow anyone else to enter this private moment, he brought his lips to hers. Their kiss was slow, sensual, and relaxed, as if they had all the time in the world to indulge themselves in this way. As if the sun wouldn�
�t chase away this interlude.
When he finally pulled back, her green eyes were dark with passion. “How did you learn to kiss like that? To do…that wicked thing you did earlier?”
He collapsed on his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve not led a celibate life.” He turned onto his side and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek before he allowed himself to meet her gaze. It was guarded. “But you’ve been the only woman to live in my memory.”
The grin started slowly, just a twitch at the corners of her well-kissed mouth. But when it finally dawned, contorting her lips into a bow of pure happiness, its brightness thrilled him.
She nestled her head next to his on the pillow and twined her fingers with his. They lay companionably, neither talking, and Declan reflected he’d never experienced such a moment with a woman. Once again, the rightness of them together seemed destined.
“Dec,” she said, “why haven’t you let me help you?”
He smirked. “I thought you did just help me.”
A delectable pink color washed over her cheeks, visible even in the dim light. “I meant why haven’t you let me help you discover what happened to Albert.”
Dodging Alethea’s inquiries was so much easier when she wasn’t pressed against him. Soft and trusting.
He battled whether to ask for her help in searching through Albert’s study. He hoped to unearth a note or some sort of correspondence that he may have received offering proof of their father’s innocence. The long breath he released shook his entire body. “Because I’m not sure what I’m up against.”
She shook her head. “What do you mean?”
Declan jerked himself upright, drawing her into his arms. “I’m still…chasing a lead. Until I have a better understanding of what I’ve learned, I don’t want someone to use you against me.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Isn’t it enough we’re linked together in all the gossip rags? Everyone knows there’s something between us, but I don’t want them to suspect you know more than you should about Albert’s death.”
To Love a Scandalous Duke (Once Upon a Scandal) Page 15