“Let’s see if I can discover yours.”
That statement, however mildly spoken, was a threat. They both knew it was. So why was she standing here, staring up at Elias as if he offered the answer to her prayers? She swallowed to moisten her parched throat, but nothing calmed the mad throb of her blood.
He set the book on the piano behind him. Without looking away from her, he reached past to shut the door, then linked his fingers with hers. Immediate heat shimmered through her. Her lips parted on a soft betraying gasp.
Through the rising mists of enchantment, a warning clanged, barely audible over the thump of her heart. Her feet in their lilac silk slippers remained glued to the parquet floor and her gaze remained fastened to his. Who knew black could contain so much light? She tumbled into a million stars.
Run, Marianne, run.
She swam in luminous night eyes while his clean, musky scent fed her senses. Even as he bent his dark head toward her, still with that watchfulness, she kept silent.
Those long musician’s fingers flexed on hers without tightening. The merest hint of coercion would chase her off. He let her retain the illusion that she had some choice in what happened.
His other hand cupped her jaw with more of that breathtaking sweetness. He’d touched her before, but not like this, not with such intimacy, not as if the merest breath might shatter her.
As naturally as a swallow learned to fly, his lips met hers. She stood beneath the kiss, drowning in unearthly tenderness. This was a question, not a demand. Her eyelids became heavy and fluttered down, abandoning her to a universe of touch and taste and scent.
Before Marianne worked out how to respond to his chaste kiss, it was over. On a sigh so soft that she only heard it because they stood so close, he pulled away.
Unwillingly she opened her eyes, not sure what she’d find in his face. Triumph? Disdain? Desire?
His expression was unfathomable. This Elias was a stranger. For the first time tonight, an eddy of fear tightened her stomach.
“You…you shouldn’t have done that,” she said unsteadily, struggling to remember duty and honor and common sense. All those important, serious concepts were less substantial than the invisible thread tethering her to this place and this man. When her tongue touched her lips, she tasted something new. Elias?
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for months.” His voice was rich and deep as sable.
“Months?” she asked wonderingly, too beguiled to find that intimidating.
“Since I first saw you at the Worthingtons’ ball in March last year.”
“You didn’t speak to me then. We weren’t introduced until the Oldhavens’ musicale, the night Pen made her debut as Duchess of Sedgemoor.”
His lips lifted in a smile that she felt in her heart more than saw with her eyes. “You remember?”
She blushed, but couldn’t muster the gumption to retreat. What would he say if she told him she remembered every meeting? Those occasions were few enough. Elias hadn’t played a part in London society until he’d inherited the Wilmott title after his brother’s death last year.
“I’ve wondered how it would feel to hold you in my arms,” he whispered, although there was nobody except Marianne to hear.
“You haven’t held me in your arms,” she said dazedly and only realized when his beautifully cut mouth quirked that her statement sounded like an invitation.
“I’ll dare the devil and take my chance.”
Marianne was clearly mad because even after he stated his intentions, she didn’t flee. Instead she remained waiting and uncertain as he slowly curved his arms around her, with that care that racked her heart with longing.
Very gently he molded her against him. She’d never been so conscious of his height, nor of the constrained power in the lean form so wickedly close to hers. They’d danced together several times, but this was different.
A soft whimper escaped her. She wished she could call the sound an objection, instead of an expression of pleased astonishment at how a man’s embrace felt. This man’s embrace.
Knowing it was folly to succumb, she softened. At her yielding, so subtle she was surprised he noticed, his hold firmed.
She was overwhelmingly aware of the changes in Elias. The catch in his breathing, the shift of each muscle, the scent that made her want to bury her nose in his white shirt and never breathe mundane fresh air again.
Astounding how warm he was, like a great radiating stove. Astounding how safe she felt.
She’d had no idea that the nearness of a large, virile male could connect her so powerfully to life’s currents. What a melancholy reflection that she’d waited this long to discover how marvelous a man’s touch could be.
When he leaned her to the side and tilted her chin up with one hand, she didn’t stiffen. She suffered an agony of suspense until he placed his lips on hers.
Last time she could blame her cooperation on surprise. Not this time. This time he gave her plenty of warning that he intended to kiss her. But the music and the candlelight and the sudden easing of a lifelong loneliness she only now recognized kept her acquiescent.
All that, and her forbidden, eternal craving for him.
For an incalculable, heavenly interval, his lips rested on hers without demand. It was like a more languid version of his first kiss. Then those strong arms gathered her up and his lips moved. Unfamiliar response flared and her knees, already wobbly, threatened to collapse. Although she was in no danger of falling, she tentatively curled her fingers over his straight, strong shoulders.
Elias raised his head and stared down at her. “You tempt fate, my love.”
The endearment made her shiver. How she wished it was true. Before she could force a denial from her tight throat, he claimed her mouth once more.
And the world caught fire.
Chapter Eight
* * *
Elias sank deep into an ocean of desire. Marianne’s lips were lush and sweet and responded with an irresistible mixture of hesitation and eagerness. The eagerness pleased and surprised him. Gently he bit on her plump lower lip and tugged it down. She moaned and opened with a swiftness that blasted him with heat. She was warm and supple in his arms, more alluring than a thousand fantasies.
Her scent invaded his senses, rich and flowery. Lilies and honey. He felt dizzy, drunk, mad, like he’d downed a bottle of champagne.
No, something more complex. The finest burgundy. Marianne Seaton was as unforgettable as a great vintage. Unique.
When he slid his tongue into her mouth, she made another muffled sound, this time of shock. After an instant’s uncertainty, she softened against him. Her clumsy ardor betrayed that tonight marked her first kiss. That struck him as unbearably sad. Her martinet of a father had done his best to teach her unquestioning duty, to bring up a compliant doll. It said something for Marianne’s resilience that despite that relentless training, she emerged as such a fascinating woman.
Not wanting to startle her from whatever spell held her, he withdrew after the most fleeting taste. The foray was an unspoken promise to return. He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her stubborn chin. He took nothing for granted, desperate to steal what joy he could from this miraculous capitulation before she remembered that she despised him. For eons, he’d imagined having her close, discovering the sensuality that he knew lurked untapped inside that gloriously curved body.
When at last she shifted, anguished denial rose like a floodtide. Instead of pushing him away, her hands plunged into his hair, tugging in silent encouragement. She leaned forward with a natural welcome that left him reeling in thrilled astonishment. Through his thickening daze, strategy had clung by its fingertips. When the woman he’d wanted for so long returned his kiss, strategy found no purchase in the avalanche of sensations.
Elias spread his hand against her straight, slender back and brought her closer. He defied a remorseless fate to rob him of this chance. His tongue swept more ruthlessly into her mouth.
How far she’d come
since she’d ventured into his arms. This time she met his incursion. The rasping glide nearly blew off the top of his head. He played with her mouth, nipping and sucking and giving glancing little kisses, then surprising her with a more thorough exploration.
He bent to taste the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders, pushing her gown aside. When he bit the curve of her throat, she started and gasped.
“Elias,” she sighed, and it was his turn to shiver with pleasure. Through the storm of kisses, she’d inflamed him with wordless murmurs, but this was the first time she’d spoken his name.
“My love,” he whispered and kissed her mouth again. Her heat was more addictive than opium. Her generosity was as arousing as the touch of her skin.
Kissing had been wondrous enough, but her swift capitulation tested the leash on his hunger. The devil inside him whispered that it would be easy to push her down onto the chaise longue behind her and achieve an incendiary end.
But he didn’t want her to regret what they’d done. Despite her passionate response, he didn’t fool himself that tonight’s encounter meant wholehearted surrender.
Dear sweet God, what he’d give for such a surrender.
Until she offered that, he had to stay on the side of innocence. Despite the burn of her mouth against his. Despite her incoherent murmurs goading him on.
Her kisses turned into the most exquisite torture, but he’d rather face the hangman than curtail this chance to touch her. These kisses might be all she ever granted him. He plundered her mouth, reveling in her unfettered response, her muffled sighs, the way she tugged him nearer.
Breathing roughly, she withdrew a fraction. He felt that distance like a chasm.
“Elias.”
This time triumph didn’t stir his blood. He already knew what the next words would be.
“Elias, please…” The broken plea emerged as she raised a shaking hand to his chest. “Please stop.”
For one sizzling instant, he pretended not to hear. She liked their kisses. He didn’t mistake that. He could coax her into yielding more.
But she was trembling and while he wanted her beyond endurance, he also loved her. He couldn’t make her less than she was. That wasn’t love.
He felt like he scraped away his skin with a blunt ax when he forced his arms to loosen and his feet to retreat a pace.
Her blue eyes were hazy with arousal when she raised them to his. “Thank you,” she whispered, lips red and swollen after his voracious kisses.
“For kissing you or for stopping?” Despite his best efforts to edge back from the precipice, his hands curled against her waist. It would take so damned little to give passion its way.
“For stopping.” To his admiration, that alluring mouth curved. “And for kissing me.”
She remained within his grasp. After such long and wounding discouragement, he wasn’t about to give up the privilege of touching her until she made him. Even if this wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the beast stirring after those untrammeled kisses.
He was as hard as a ship’s mast and only the most painful exercise of restraint stopped him from taking advantage of her willingness. She didn’t know how close he’d verged to ripping away that pretty dress and showing her how much he wanted her. The craving to push onward beat like thunder. He was hellish near to shoving her against the wall and proving in the most basic way that they belonged together.
Of course she didn’t know. She was an innocent, despite her courage and cleverness. Tonight her innocence kept her safe.
Her innocence and his love.
The words “I love you” hovered so close, but her reaction the last time he’d expressed the full extent of his feelings kept him silent. “I’d like to kiss you again,” he said gruffly.
“I’d like that, too, but it would be wrong.”
The regret in her voice made the beast strain against its bonds. Her admission that he didn’t yearn alone fed dangerous appetite. “Why?” he asked with sudden heat. “You’re twenty-five, Marianne. A lovely woman shouldn’t be a stranger to pleasure. It’s such a damned waste.”
Her blue eyes widened. “Pleasure?”
“Yes, pleasure,” he snapped. “More than you’ll find in a few kisses, however heady.”
She raised a shaking hand to glistening lips. They were so physically attuned, he felt like he touched her at the same time. “That’s wicked.”
He smiled. “No, merely human.”
“I should go,” she murmured without moving.
Elias stared down into her perfect face. The widely spaced eyes. The gentle arch of her brows. The voluptuous mouth that had always lured him. Now he’d tasted that mouth, he feared no wine would ever compare.
A puzzled frown creased her forehead. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re here. You appeared out of the music like a spirit.”
Mockery lit the rich blue eyes. “You summoned me.”
“Now I know that I can, I’ll do it again.”
Humor faded. “No. Tonight is special.”
A reminder that this might be the only time he kissed her. Recklessness surged. Damn it, he’d make sure she never forgot him.
He cupped the delicate line of her jaw. He felt rather than saw her tiny start at the contact. This was like trying to lure a wild creature to his hand. A fluttering bird. Any second, she might take fright and vanish forever. The knowledge that her urge to flee was at least as strong as her will to stay made each second a prize. “For me, too.”
Her skin was warm beneath his fingers. No man who touched her would believe she was the ice maiden people called her.
Because he felt that the untouchable goddess Lady Marianne Seaton was real and vivid—and eminently touchable—he spoke the words that had burned in his throat since she’d drawn away. “I could show you more.”
That winsome little frown reappeared. The same numskulls who called Marianne Seaton an ice maiden said they found her as lovely and impassive as a statue, but Elias had never thought that. He’d immediately recognized her essential shyness.
He stroked her satiny cheek. “Let me show you more.”
Trouble shadowed her eyes to cobalt. “I’m not—”
He smiled tenderly. “Something just for you.”
“You’re trying to ruin me,” she whispered. Pain scored his heart as she stepped back, breaking his hold.
He shook his head. “On my honor, no. I swear you’ll leave as pure as you are now.”
“What’s your reward?” she asked with a hint of grimness.
“My reward is your pleasure.” He shrugged. “I won’t lie and say I don’t want more. But I’m not an impulsive boy. I can control myself. You’re safe, Marianne.”
“Am I?” She stared at him as if weighing his soul.
“You have my word. I’ve watched you so closely. You devote your life to making other people happy. Tonight I offer you a gift—an hour of pure self-indulgence.”
She swallowed, her white throat working. “And you promise that nobody will know?”
“Nobody.”
“It’s…tempting.”
Defying his impulse to seize her, he stepped away to allow her space to decide. Although he knew that in letting her go, he risked losing her. “An interval of selfish enjoyment. I can guess nobody has ever offered you that.”
“No.”
The word was a mere filament of sound. The house settled around them in slumbering silence. It was like they were the sole two people awake on earth.
He’d hesitated to mention anything beyond this encounter because reminding her of his hopes was the surest way to drive her off. Now he dared. “Accept this, even if you’ll accept nothing else from me.”
She stood regarding him for so long that he became convinced she meant to deny him. And herself.
Then she straightened and gave a stiff nod, as if accepting a challenge to a duel.
He supposed in her own way, she was.
“Very well,” she whispered. �
�Show me pleasure.”
Chapter Nine
* * *
Marianne braced for smugness. But she couldn’t mistake the joy transfiguring Elias’s face. The sheer brilliance of his male beauty enthralled her. And soothed the tigers of uncertainty clawing at her stomach.
“Oh, my darling,” he murmured, and encircled her in his arms. “I swear you’ll never be sorry.”
After all those kisses, she should be familiar with his touch. Still her unruly heart leaped. His embrace felt like coming home after a long and dangerous journey. Which was lunatic when giving herself over to his caresses was the riskiest step she’d ever taken.
When he’d described her as a self-sacrificing cipher, something in her soul had rebelled. He’d asked her about secrets. Well, tonight would become her secret. Every woman should have something to dream on when she was old.
Tomorrow commonplace reality would set in. She’d play the dutiful daughter and obey her father and marry Desborough. She’d go to Desborough’s bed a virgin and set her face toward finding purpose as his wife and the mother of his children.
But first, first she’d accept Elias’s gift. Fate gave her this chance. She’d never before been free. A greater gift than pleasure was the gift of freedom.
She closed her eyes against a mist of tears and hid her face in Elias’s chest. His strength gave her a temporary haven from the world’s endless demands.
Gradually her heart’s race calmed. Her blood started to pump sluggish and heavy.
When she’d consented, she’d expected Elias to jump on her. He knew as well as she did that they had one night and the hour was already late. But he held her as if they had all the time in the world. She’d never felt so cherished.
Three Proposals and a Scandal: A Sons of Sin Novella Page 7