Wicked and wanton thoughts. She had many of them, but she kept them well hidden from her sisters. Mary had little time for her. And Prudence and Chastity would not understand. As the virtues of temperance and chastity, their thoughts were pure and innocent. They would be appalled to know that Mercy harbored fantasies that no lady of breeding should even know about, let alone dream of.
The heat and the sun were suddenly blocked by the passing of a large cloud. Mercy tracked its progress over the grass, and then as it drifted over her. She took respite in its coolness, in the way it blanketed her. She followed the path of shadow as it snaked its way across the pond. Gazing at the water, she gasped as she saw the image of a man reflected in the water.
Her head came up and she squinted as sunbeams out lined the breadth of the stranger’s shoulders. He was bathed in shadows and sunlight, the effect breathtaking.
“One must be careful when one gazes into the still waters, for it is said that the image you see is that of your future.”
Mercy’s attention drifted to the water. She saw the outline of the man. Then the image was replaced with a man who was bent on his haunches, staring at her from across the small, ornamental pond.
He was stunning. Breathtaking. His eyes were blue, the color of ice, his hair long and black and silky as it blew in the breeze. He was well muscled. Despite his frock coat, Mercy knew that his shoulders and chest were broad and that beneath his linen shirt, and the lace jabot he wore, his skin would be smooth and warm, and infinitely seductive.
“I am Kian.”
“Mercy,” she replied. Swallowing hard, she forced her gaze away from him. She was being too bold in her perusal, but she could not stop looking at him.
“Kindness,” he whispered. Their eyes locked, and Mercy felt a jolt of some foreign, but not unwelcome, sensation pierce her. “I could use some of you,” he said thoughtfully as his cool gaze devoured her. “Most definitely I could use you.”
He rose and walked around the pond, perusing her body as he came to stand beside her. “The milk of human kindness, how sweet the taste.”
He actually licked his lips and Mercy shivered, her core heating and wetting. Then he lowered himself until they were eye to eye.
“I believe I could drink you dry.”
Her heart was beating too fast. She couldn’t catch her breath. And when his hand came out and his fingers trailed along her cheek, she closed her eyes, marveling at the sensations his touch induced.
“Look upon me,” he whispered, and she did, allowing her lashes to flutter and her eyelids to slowly open. “The water doesn’t lie. I am your future. Your destiny lies with me.”
She nodded, blindly accepting his words. She could hardly process what he was saying. All she could think of was how astonishingly perfect he was. No man could be this beautiful, this sensual and engaging. As she looked deeply into his eyes, she knew him for what he was.
A fey. An Unseelie. A creature of darkness whose intrinsic ability to seduce and entice called to any woman who crossed their path. If his looks were not enough to disclose what he was, his words were. So darkly direct and erotic. She knew what he had meant by drinking her dry, and suddenly she felt like offering herself up to him.
“Mercy.” He murmured her name like a caress as it whispered against her ear. “I shall show you none as I pursue you. I will spare none to any of your other suitors. I will possess you.”
She swallowed hard, and his finger left her cheek, only to trail down the column of her throat.
“You know what I am. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I do. That is, I know.”
“And do you fear it? Fear me?”
“No.” Her answer had been quick and utterly truthful. All her life she had been told stories of the fey. She had been fascinated by them, by their power and their beauty. But nothing had captivated her fancy like the Unseelie. She’d always wanted to see one. To gaze into their eyes knowing what sort of sensual creatures they were purported to be. And she was elated to discover that none of it had been exaggerated. For the fey who stood before her was not only beautiful but dangerous, as well. There was a barely controlled darkness about him. She felt it. It seethed from him. Yet his touch was gentle.
“Let me in,” he whispered, “and I vow to show you pleasure you could never dream of. Come to my world, and you will never want for anything.”
“And what will I have to trade for this…gift?” She knew no faery gift came free. There was always a tithe to be paid.
“You will leave this world and come to mine.”
“I cannot,” she replied. “To live in your world is to give up my life. My family. My sisters. I cannot, for one night of forbidden pleasures, toss away everything. I thank you for the offer.”
“One night?” His grin was slow and sensual. Heart-stopping. “Oh, no, I will show you no clemency in that, either. I will have you over and over, until the nights melt with the days and you are no longer cognizant of time or place. You will know only me. The pleasure of our bed. The hours of endless ecstasy.”
Said like that, how could she resist? But one glance at Prue charging across the grass, preparing to defend her honor, was all it took. “You will only take from me, leaving me an empty husk. Your pleasure comes with a price that is too steep for me to pay.”
His blue eyes turned to a most astonishing shade of green. The color of jade. “We’re not done, Mercy Lennox. No, indeed, your path with me has just begun.”
Mercy watched as he stepped back. Shadow engulfed him, and she saw how he stared at her. She shivered. He was far too dangerous. She could never manage him. The thought thrilled yet frightened her.
“We will meet again,” he said, “and when we do, I will show you no leniency. No kindness. Only a single-minded pursuit. I will have you.”
Mercy hoped with everything in her heart that this particular fey was true to his word. She was already thinking of the next time their paths would cross.
Chastity strolled along the manicured paths of Lady Sefton’s perennial beds, fanning herself against the heat of the afternoon sun. She had left her bonnet on the bench, and now regretted it. The sun was much too bright. She could feel the warm beams on her face. Mama would be livid with her if she allowed herself to burn. It was gauche to have tanned skin. Pale and flawless was the mark of exceptional beauty.
She should go back and retrieve it, but she had no wish to leave the path or to make idle conversation. So, instead, she strolled on, enjoying her solitude.
The garden was hot and sticky, the paths full of elegantly dressed couples—the cream of London society, all turned out for the Seftons’ annual garden party. The scent of roses and lavender assailed her senses, and she stopped to inhale the heady fragrance of a blush-pink damask rose. Smoothing her finger over the velvety petals, Chastity flushed, remembering her fantasy of Thane, and the way his fingertips had felt very much like the petals, soft and velvety, as they brushed her skin.
Chastity shivered despite the warmth of the air. She’d acted wanton last night—more than wanton, she’d been sinful. What had provoked her to feel herself in such a manner, and to fantasize that it had been Thane’s hands touching her and not her own? She still couldn’t fathom what had made her do it.
Feeling restless and just a touch unsteady, Chastity slipped behind an enormous oak tree, resting against its cool, rough trunk. Why was it that Thane was the only man to arouse her thus? What was it about his wickedness that called to her carefully suppressed wantonness? Closing her eyes, Chastity let herself relive those moments in her bedroom. She had wanted more. Was prepared to think of the whole thing. But how could an innocent such as she be so in tune with her body? How could she dream of something she had never experienced? she wondered, continuing to fan herself, letting her fingertips graze the exposed skin of her breasts.
The sound of gravel crunching alerted Chastity that the couples were making their way back to the lawn for tea and cakes. Relieved to be truly alone a
t last, Chastity let her fingers move the air before her, cooling her neck and bosom.
A twig snapped, and her eyes flew open, greeting the dark blue eyes of Thane.
“Sir,” she huffed, blushing furiously, her skin instantly aflame with prickles of heat, of awareness.
“Good afternoon, Miss Lennox.”
Her body came alive at the sound of his voice. And the scent that suddenly surrounded them. It seemed to follow them wherever he went, and it had the strangest effect upon her. Thane… She was at once elated and dismayed by his appearance.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
She flushed. Had he seen the way she had allowed her fingertips to caress the swells of her breasts? Could he read her thoughts—the thoughts she had been having about him? She was mortified by the very idea.
“Chastity?”
“Sir?” she whispered, unable to meet his gaze.
“Are you enjoying the party?”
“Oh. Yes,” she said, blathering on like a simpleton. “It’s very lovely, but then Lord and Lady Sefton’s gardens are renowned for their beauty.”
“And their frivolity,” he replied.
She could not answer that. It was far too bold. Even though Chastity knew there were many shenanigans that went on in the gardens during the annual party.
“How are you acquainted with the Seftons?” she asked.
“Old friends. And you?”
“Oh, my parents and brother are close friends. I’ve never actually been to their party, this year is the first, but I’ve lived vicariously through my brother’s reports in his letters home.”
“And why have you never been?” he asked, taking a step closer to her.
“My sisters and I are content to stay in Glastonbury. This is our first time in London in well over a decade.”
“Content,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a purr. His exotic accent made her light-headed. She was acting like a silly green girl, but she could not help it. He affected her that much.
“Are you really? Content that is.”
She felt herself bristle at his thinly veiled assumption that she was anything but. “Of course,” she said haughtily.
“Forgive me if I spoke out of turn. But you must allow me my opinion. And my belief is, you’re the furthest thing from satisfied. You yearn for something other than this life you’re leading.”
“I am very contented, sir.”
“Are you? Really?”
She nodded and took a step back. He was closing in on her, and she felt cornered. Afraid of her response, which was not fear, but an overwhelming desire. This man did not think angelic when he looked at her. He would not put her on a pedestal and worship her like a sainted female. He would demand more of her. Would make her look deeply inside. Would force her to accept what she found there. He had the courage to see all of her, not just the virtuous wrapping that everyone else saw.
“Why are you here, all alone?”
“I do not mind the solitude.”
“You hide from yourself.”
She flinched as he touched her. It was only a slight grazing of his fingertips against her cheek, but the intimacy shocked her. The response from her body startled her.
“You’ve never been touched,” he murmured. He took another step to her. They were now toe-to-toe. Her back was still pressed against the trunk of the tree, and Thane’s tall body blocked out the small amount of sunlight that filtered through the leaves. His fingertips found her cheek again, but this time, he bent his head and softly inhaled the patch of skin behind her ear. Tilting his head, he moved lower, to the skin on her neck, where her pulse throbbed. He inhaled… She heard the soft intake of air. It was followed by the delicate brush of his fingers. Then his mouth was moving lower, to the place where her breasts where pushed together and up. To the décolletage that was above her tight-fitting bodice. He inhaled there. A deep, masculine purr broke the silence.
“The perfume is so right for you. I can imagine you seated at your dressing table, anointing this perfect flesh with it.”
Oh, God, could he see inside her mind? Did he see that she had dreamed of him touching her?
“I want to touch you,” he murmured, as if indeed, he could hear her thoughts. “You must know that. You must sense how much I want that.”
She did. She wanted it, too. But she couldn’t give in. But the way his breath caressed her skin, moistening it, the way his lips were just a hairbreadth from kissing her breasts, made her weak. Her resolve was slipping.
“Sir, you mustn’t,” she said on a hiss as he trailed his fingertips along the tops of her breasts. His tongue came out then, licking the skin as it pressed against the edge of her bodice. She gasped, and pressed herself farther against the tree.
“Why mustn’t I?” he asked as his large palms circled her ribs, then moved slowly upward till he was cupping her in his hands. “You want me to. Do not deny it.”
She tried to, but her moan made any protest seem utterly ridiculous. So she used another tack to rebuff him. “You promised you would leave me be.”
“No,” he said darkly as he lowered his mouth to the quivering mound of her breast. “I told you I would leave you in peace. Which I will.”
Pulling at the bodice, he lowered it an inch, the pale flesh spilling out from behind her corset and the tight stomacher. His mouth moved to the spot where he began to draw the swell of her breast into his mouth. He sucked, the sensation going straight to the tips of her breasts and her womb.
He sucked harder, bit down, then soothed the little sting with a slow glide of his tongue.
“I can smell your desire. Taste it.”
She shook her head, denying his words, but he bit down teasingly, making her draw in a sharp breath. Chastity’s lips parted on a silent breath as he traced his fingers along the edge of her bodice, and then boldly slid his fingertips up between her breasts. Her breathing became rapid, her breasts were heaving, begging to be freed from the confines of her bodice.
She had never taken any pleasure in her breasts before. Yet now she was acutely aware of them. How sensitive they were. How they made her feel exquisitely feminine.
As if aware of her torture, Thane pulled one sleeve of her sky-blue muslin gown along her shoulder, revealing her plain white stays. The crest of her breast was bruised and he circled the mark with the tip of his finger, his eyes darkening to near black as he focused on his brand. Then he reached for her, and tugged at the corset till her breast sprang free, and she was mortified by it, the white skin stark in the daylight. Her nipple long, pointed, arching up to his mouth. He stared at her, and she closed her eyes, cringing in her embarrassment and, dare she admit, longing.
Without a sound he circled her nipple with his thumb. Her eyes flew open, and she saw his gaze searching her face. Chastity felt a disconcerting urge to shut her eyes against his experienced gaze, but somehow she knew he didn’t want that. He wanted to see the desire in her eyes, to see what effect he was having on her. And she wanted to give him this.
He traced the underside of her breast, his finger softly and almost imperceptibly grazed her skin, swelling her breast further, making her thrust forward in order to feel more of his hand against her. Finally, he tore his eyes from hers and stared at her erect nipple. Chastity stiffened as he went to his knees. Wetness pooled between her thighs, waiting for him to touch her—with his hands, his mouth, with whatever he would. Expertly he slipped the taut pink tip between his lips.
“Thane,” she whimpered, her hands fisting in the folds of her skirts. She dare not touch him. He pulled away, and with one last longing look at her, he lifted his gaze to her face. Capturing her cheeks in his palms, he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her softly. It was a kiss that lured, coaxed. She had no knowledge of how to return it, but Thane didn’t seem to care.
He showed her, with his mouth, how it slanted over hers. His tongue swept against her lips, and she mewled shamelessly in his arms. Then he opened her mouth, slid his tongue insid
e and devoured her.
He was holding her, thank heavens, because she could barely feel her knees. She was floating. And when Thane moved his palm down her chest to cup and squeeze her breasts, she wrapped her sinful body around his, forgetting who she was.
Tugging at her nipple, he tweaked it, soothed it, and she gasped, cried out as he left her mouth and pulled her other breast free of her stays. She was bared to him, reminding her of how she had been that night in the maze with the stranger who could only be a Dark Fey.
Sliding his body along hers, Thane clutched her breasts, pressed them together and brushed his face along them. Her back arched and she moaned, the sound so wanton. He sucked her hard and, unable to resist, Chastity fisted her hands through his hair, holding him to her as he ate her.
Oh, God, she had never felt anything so exquisite. She had no idea how much pleasure she could take in having her breasts played with. How responsive they could be—how sexual.
Abruptly, she was bereft of his mouth and hands. “Someone comes.” Deftly he helped her right herself as she stood lost in a mass of confusion and longing. When she was presentable, he clutched her face and kissed her hard.
“You might believe this is all about seduction, but it is not. I want you—all of you. I want to be inside you. To learn you. But I also want to sit in the quiet and talk with you. Laugh with you. I want to lie in bed at night and feel you against me, listen to you breathe, glide my hands through your hair and watch you sleep. I want years of growing old with you and thousands of nights beneath the moonlight. You must sense that there is more here than simple pleasure. Believe it.”
He pulled away, and she reached for him, fearing to be left alone.
“We will meet again—soon.”
And then he was gone. Leaving Chastity alone, shaking and anything but in peace.
ELEVEN
Oh, Diary, until I saw him again, I didn’t realize how much I needed to see him. He makes me feel alive, womanly. Makes me forget what I am, who I ought to be.
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