by Shirley Wine
"I wouldn't know." Davina's tone was cold enough to freeze water at ten paces.
"Why's that?"
Was Victoria being deliberately ingenuous? He took a step toward her, frowning at her.
Although Davina did deserve having the tables turned on her after all the nasty cracks she'd taken at Victoria in the last two days.
It was a side of her nature he'd never seen and didn't like.
"Do you prefer vibrators to real men? I heard the sex shop on Warrick has just imported a new range of glow-in-the-dark dildos, if that's what gives you your jollies."
It was so outrageous. He couldn't prevent the belly laugh that erupted. He'd be very surprised if Victoria had ever been inside a sex shop.
Surely Davina wouldn't fall for this nonsense. Her strangled gasp suggested otherwise.
"I wouldn't be seen dead in one of those shops."
"Good idea. I suspect they'd prefer their clientele very much alive," Victoria said cheerfully.
"That's enough, Victoria," he said, needing to put a stop to this, now.
Davina turned on him, spitting fire. "She's lying. Tell me you're not lovers? You've never been lovers?"
Suddenly, the situation turned serious.
After that passionate interlude in the garden, how could he lie? I could take you right here, right now against this tree, his heated words echoed in his ears.
He'd been the one to instigate their fiery lovemaking.
"Victoria and I are lovers." Let Davina make of that what she would.
She went ramrod stiff.
"When Muriel said she'd seen you and this disgusting slut, going at it like rutting animals in the garden, I didn't believe her." Davina advanced a step towards him. "I thought better of you, Keir. Have you no discrimination?"
Fury, resentment and disgust seared him in a scorching wave. He should never have kissed Victoria. But she certainly didn't deserve this insult.
He stared at his fiancée, for the first time seeing beyond the elegant façade to something far too familiar and equally disturbing.
"It very much looks that way," he drawled.
From where I stand you're catching a rocket-ride to hell.
Looking at his fiancée, he suddenly clearly saw his father's disquiet. Why had he not seen it before?
Because I only looked at the elegant façade.
"And what exactly do you mean by that crack?" Davina stepped towards him, her mouth twisted and crimped.
"I asked you to marry me."
She lifted a hand, her blue eyes glittering in her pale face.
"I wouldn't advise it, Davina," he said very softly. "Hit me, and I'll retaliate."
Her hand dropped, and she stood there, clenching and unclenching her fist in an impotent gesture. "I won't stand for it."
"You won't stand for what, Davina?" he asked, his voice very soft. Suddenly, all the see-sawing emotions this fiasco of a weekend had produced boiled over. "You need to explain."
"I won't have you flaunting lovers under my nose."
As he watched her, all his ideas of a calm, orderly alliance evaporated. "I'm a normal heterosexual male, Davina. You refuse to meet my needs so why object to me taking a lover? Did you intend me to lead a totally celibate life after you'd provided the obligatory heir?"
Dark color mottled Davina's neck. "You agreed."
"No, I agreed not to trouble you any inconvenient needs," he said, furious he'd been duped, again. "Do you want to renegotiate?"
Davina stared at him and spread her hands in an impotent gesture.
"I thought not. So why are you here in my bedroom, invading my privacy?"
"You gave me the right?"
"No. You laid down the terms, Davina. What I do outside those parameters is none of your business."
"That's immoral." Davina paled, her gaze swiveled toward Victoria. "You expect me to live knowing you're having it off with lovers under my nose. I couldn't bear the humiliation."
"Bloody marvelous!" He turned and stalked to the dressing table, picked up a comb and ran it through his wet hair. "What about me, Davina? What about my humiliation at being shut outside your bedroom door, reduced to begging for your favors?"
Face contorted, Davina turned on Victoria. "I'm sure your little whore will see to your comfort."
She took a hasty step toward the bed, hands curled into red tipped claws. "Get out of here, you grasping little bitch. Keir is my fiancé."
After this revealing exchange? I think not.
Victoria gave a cry and shrank back against the pillows.
Keir moved swiftly, intercepting Davina before she could reach the bed, and Victoria.
He caught her wrists, strengthening his grip as she fought to get free. With her teeth bared, eyes wild and face contorted, she reminded him of his step mother in one of her infamous rages.
A shiver goose-stepped across his skin.
"I warned you, Davina," he said with lethal softness, looking into her furious face. "No one hurts Victoria."
She flinched, and no match for his strength, finally stopped struggling.
Slowly, cautiously, he released his hold. Once she was free, she rubbed at her wrists to restore the circulation.
She glanced at the angry red marks on her pale skin and the glared at him, eyes glittering blue slits. "You are a bastard, Kier Donovan."
He nodded, his smile mocking. "You always knew that, Davina. That's why you wanted to marry me. We are after all, very evenly matched."
The insult had her sucking in a hissing breath.
She yanked the diamond ring from her finger and flung it at him.
It hit him on the cheek.
He felt the sting but made no move to catch it. The ping as it hit the polished floor was loud in the sudden stillness.
"You can stick your marriage, Keir, right where the sun doesn't shine."
As she turned toward the bed, her face twisted and ugly with venom.
Keir moved swiftly between her and Victoria.
Davina hesitated, as if she'd try and dodge him, reconsidered and flounced across the room. At the door she paused. "You think you've won, don't you, Ms. Scanlan. But it'll be a very hollow victory. I'll make sure of it."
She left, slamming the door behind her with such force Keir was sure it would be heard throughout the house.
Chapter Eleven
Keir turned to Victoria.
Rage shimmered and twisted around him like a living entity.
After that ugly scene, what else did she expect?
She gulped, but forced her gaze to remain steady. It took all her courage not to flinch as he stepped towards the bed.
"What the hell kind of game do you think you're playing?"
Unable to remain still under his burning condemnation, she threw back the covers and slipped from the bed.
The outsize pajama jacket slipped off one shoulder, and she clutched at it suddenly feeling far too exposed. "Saving you from yourself."
The words sat in a pulsing silence.
She dragged a breath into tight lungs and fought down nervous panic. If she'd even paused to think this through, she might be better prepared to face the consequences of her impetuous action.
Her heart jack-hammered against her ribs, and her palms grew damp. The sight of him like this unfurled a primitive, possessive emotion.
"So now I'm free to marry you?" he snarled. "Is that what this is all about?"
Her chin jerked up. Was that what he thought?
What else did I expect him to think?
"On the strength of a few lousy screws, you expect a life of comfort and ease. You certainly rate yourself highly."
The crude insult had her sucking in a sharp breath, her hands curling into fists, but she wasn't so easily daunted.
"No, I did it for you." She lifted her chin proudly. "I neither want nor expect marriage. I'll return to my room now, the score is even between us."
Keir's eyes flared with turbulent emotion.
He
came closer, his predatory step that of a jungle cat who'd singled out his prey.
She heard his harsh inhalation and then the hiss of breath forced out from between clenched teeth. The mint of his toiletries mingled with the unmistakable scent of a fully aroused, very angry male.
Somehow, she remained motionless and didn't back away. Instinct warned it would be a mistake to allow him to intimidate her.
This is Keir, he'll never hurt me.
But as she saw his ferocious expression, the leaping emotion in his dark eyes, the rigidity of his muscles, she wasn't quite so sanguine.
He moved first.
Hard hands bit into the flesh of her shoulders. He hauled her against a rock-hard chest. "Oh no, my golden eyed witch, you came to my bed. You're not leaving until I've sated myself."
He pushed her away, held her at arm's length from him. The movement dislodged the towel at his waist.
Naked and powerful, his strong fingers trembled as he undid the buttons on the pajama top and let it pool in a heap on the floor.
For one timeless moment he stood motionless, looked at her, eyes narrowed to gleaming slits as she stood before him¸ clothed only in the silken veil of her hair.
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, the anger was gone, replaced by a deeper, more turbulent emotion.
He lifted her and laid her amongst his pillows, turned, strode to the door and locked it before prowling back to the bed.
Victoria watched him, fascinated.
Desire curled and licked through her body as he stood above her, uninhibited and proud.
Fully dressed, he was intimidating.
Naked, he was mesmerizing, magnificently male—potent and powerful.
His long, lean frame, covered with taut muscle that rippled as he moved. And along with his clothes, Keir had shed the civilized cloak he displayed to the world.
She dragged in another tight breath. The sight of him like this stirred powerful emotions.
He stood beside the bed watching her, noting her reaction. "I know you'll demand a payoff for this, but at the moment, I don't care."
The bitter words jerked her out of her stasis.
She sat up, slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, her mouth close against his lips.
"Forget about yesterday," she whispered. "There'll be time enough for problems tomorrow."
Victoria knew this was the only chance she had to forge a bond strong enough to deal with her deception.
"I demand nothing. Just give me this night, for our own pleasure. No strings, no expectations, no family pressures. Just your man to my woman."
He slid into the bed beside her, the last word stifled by the press of his lips on hers and she was lost.
She expected his kiss to be fierce.
But the soft gentleness of it flowed over her like warmed chocolate—smooth and all enveloping.
Emotion clogged her throat—filled her starved senses—fired the hungry ache gnawing at her belly.
"Witch," he murmured nuzzling the tender skin below her ear, "you drive me crazy with wanting."
"Keir—" her choked response was drowned in the warm cavern of his mouth.
His kiss changed, hard, carnal and demanding. His tongue stroked and retreated, over and over. Every sliding caress drove her higher, made her more incoherent.
And where he lead, she followed—hot and urgent, her mouth, her lips, her tongue melding with his.
Victoria moaned and writhed, wanting more.
"Gently—" he whispered, soothing her twisting body with his hands, his lips moving down her throat to the hollow in her shoulder, his teeth grazed the skin, the pulse at the base of her throat that throbbed to the beat of the kettle drum pounding through her body. "We have all the time in the world."
Did they?
As the anxious thought surfaced, Keir was so close, he sensed her slight withdrawal.
He lifted his head sliding his hands up and burying them in her silky tresses as he held her head immobile, watching her, intent and alert.
"I won’t hurt you," his eyes burned with molten fire.
She wanted to tell him she wasn’t afraid but the words wouldn’t shape in the dryness of her mouth.
"Once I hurt you—"
"Don’t—" she lifted gentle fingers and covered his parted lips. "It doesn’t matter."
And she realized it didn’t.
That infinitesimal hurt as she'd surrendered him her virginity had long since been forgotten. The hurts that lingered were ones he didn't know he'd inflicted.
He lifted his head and looked down at her, his eyes dark and intent, a hand cradling her cheek. "What is it?"
For one moment confession hovered on her tongue.
But his expression disturbed her and kept her silent.
She was afraid.
In that moment, she knew the repercussions of her secrets would be catastrophic. For them both.
"Kiss me.'" She shoved aside the uncomfortable thoughts.
His mouth came back to hers.
His hands closed over her breasts, confident and firm, thumbs rubbing tightly furled nipples. Her body arched, pressing her breasts into his palms.
His grunt of masculine satisfaction was echoed by her rasping moan. He caught her flailing arms and anchored them with one hand above her head.
Powerless in his grip, she writhed beneath his caresses. He suckled on her breast; the hard pull had her lifting off the bed.
As he moved his mouth to her other breast, he gathered a handful of her hair, draped it across her body and rubbed it over nipples tender from his ministrations.
Lifting his head, he watched her through heavy-lidded eyes as he stroked his hand down the hair draped across her body.
"Beautiful," he murmured, freeing her hands.
The deep, husky cadence of his voice thrilled her. She lifted her hands and cradled his face between her palms, bringing his mouth down to hers.
But this was no gentle kiss. It was hard seduction that demanded as it gave, replenished as it devoured.
A large hand stroked her breasts, finding one pert nipple and rubbing it between thumb and forefinger as he bent his head and suckled hard on the other.
A sobbing cry escaped and her head tossed restlessly from side to side as his hands roamed her body, her sides, and her thighs.
Quivering with anticipation, she rose up off the bed as he stroked the soft curls shielding her sex, and then slid long fingers past to stroke her there, where she was hot and aching.
Two fingers pressed in and filled her, then retreated.
Skillful fingers circled her entrance, and then pressed—and she gasped. His fingers slid away, played, and then returned to the same sweet spot, and pressed again until she was a quivering mass of sensation.
She grabbed at his wrist—beneath her fingers, tendons and muscle moved, as evocative as the fingers probing her—slowly and deliberately.
She opened her eyes and looked at his face, hard-edged, dark eyes black with passion.
Fully aroused, his gaze was locked on where his hand worked between her thighs. When he drew back, she moaned reaching for him, missing him.
But he refused to be hurried.
Taking his own sweet time, his mouth moved down her body, slowly, leisurely.
He wasn't gentle; everywhere his lips touched was hard, desperate and utterly possessive.
And this was what she craved. What she needed.
He suckled her neck, the hollow of her shoulder, and the tops of each breast. Then he suckled each dusky nipple.
There was no tenderness in him now; he was all hard, male demand. His hands swept down her body, over her hips and thighs and settled on her sex.
"Spread your legs," he commanded roughly.
Helpless, she obeyed the jagged order, the husky sound tinged with more than a hint of desperation. It thrilled her to know he wanted this as much as she did.
His grunt of masculine intent was so sexy and arousing. It left her quiveri
ng, wanting and so slick she could feel the moisture dewing on her inner thighs.
"Lift your knees." His husky voice rasped against her belly. The pressure of his hands under the globes of her bottom ensured she obeyed.
He lifted her, left her open and exposed to him.
He smiled at her.
All male.
Fierce, predatory and powerful.
He blew a hot breath on her swollen sex, the sensation so erotic a moan escaped. Before she came down, his mouth descended, lips surrounding it and he suckled, hard.
She shuddered and screamed, rising off the bed.
As she climbed toward a climax, two long fingers slid inside her, pressing deep. Upward, forward until she was lost to everything except the insistent demands of her body.
A shuddering gasping sob escaped as her whole body convulsed in spasm after spasm.
Before she fully came down from that pinnacle, he was there, his hard arousal prodding the entrance to her body.
She strained upwards. Wanting. Needing.
But Keir was in no hurry.
When he claimed her mouth, she tasted her juices on his tongue. Salty and erotic. He deepened the kiss. Hard, carnal and slightly cruel.
He teased her, his long hard cock just entering her a little and then withdrawing. Growing desperate, she lifted her body upward. She wanted more. His ravenous kiss had her gasping and panting and writhing under him.
His hands slid under her body and he lifted her and then with one hard thrust, embedded himself inside her.
Oh yes this was what she wanted.
She gripped him, fingers digging into the firm swell of hard buttocks.
Keir, his face blanked with passion, each powerful thrust stoked the fiery inferno building to a crescendo.
She clung to him, meeting him thrust for powerful thrust. The shattering sensations gathered momentum, and threatened to kill her with their intensity.
She was consumed by galloping pleasure. Slow at first and then faster. Her focus narrowed to this moment, a spinning, black, timeless vortex of sensation.
With a gasping cry she collapsed into wave after searing wave of white-hot fire.
Dimly, she was aware of Keir, rigid above her, muscles bulging in his neck and chest, head thrust back, teeth bared in a feral grimace, his face contorted in ecstasy akin to pain, as he poured himself into her, his powerful body trembling from the force of his release.