Valentine's Vow (Avenging Lords Book 3)
Page 16
He wanted her.
For once in his life, consequences be damned.
Besides, he was a man known for embracing responsibility and would do what was required should unforeseen problems arise.
“And are you following your heart, Ava?” He was certain she cared something for him.
“My heart has craved a union since you pushed me up against the stone wall and kissed me in the rampant way one expects of a rake.”
The muscles in his abdomen clenched at the memory. “Did I not warn you? The gentleman in me will be mindful of your comfort. The licentious libertine will plunge into your body with only pleasure in mind.”
“I have always avoided libertines, until now.” Desire flashed hot in her eyes.
Lust pounded in his blood.
Valentine captured her hand and led her from the dining room. They never spoke as they ascended the stairs. He drew her into his bedchamber and locked the door.
The fire in the hearth roared.
Candles burned in the candelabra to cast a warm glow over the red walls.
The room was set for seduction.
“How will this work?” she asked as she stood in the middle of his bedchamber.
Valentine smiled as he slipped out of his coat and draped it over the chair. He moved to the four-poster bed, parted the gold curtains and sat on the end.
“As a man who embraces equality,” he said, watching her intently as he relaxed back and propped himself up on his elbows, “I believe it is your turn to remove your clothes.”
Her eyes widened. A nervous laugh escaped her. “Surely you’re not serious.”
“A libertine never jests in the bedchamber.” He was somewhat thankful she wore gentlemen’s clothes. It meant he wouldn’t have to assist her with stays. “Take off your coat, your cravat and waistcoat. Drag your shirt over your head. Let me see you as I have longed to do from the moment we met.”
She stared at him, appeared rooted to the spot.
“You’re safe here,” he added as he tugged at his boots and discarded them. It was a lot to ask of an innocent, and he did not want her to feel uncomfortable. “We need to undress, Ava. But if you would rather go behind the screen, rather I assisted you—”
“No. I want to undress for you. I am just a little nervous that is all.”
“As was I when I stripped to my waist while hurtling along in a carriage in November.” And his heart was beating just as fast. His cock throbbed with the same compelling need. “Is it wrong that I wish to worship your body as well as your mind?”
“No, it’s not wrong.” She breathed a sigh as she shrugged out of the coat and it landed on the floor. “Actually, it’s quite flattering.”
With their eyes locked, she unbuttoned the waistcoat and untied the simple knot in the cravat. Both garments slipped to the floor. Valentine’s fingers itched as he watched. His mouth was dry. His heart pounded against his ribs.
Ava tugged the loose shirt from the breeches and then ran her fingers through her hair until the luxurious brown curls fell over her shoulders. He saw the outline of her hard nipples pressing against the fine lawn as she moved, and decided he was too impatient to wait.
“Help me undress.” He came to his feet, was already unbuttoning his waistcoat as he closed the gap between them. Urgency almost made him rip the damn thing off his shoulders.
Ava fiddled with his cravat, and he helped her untie the knot. When they both stood in their shirts, she looked at him and arched a brow. “Who will go first?”
Valentine slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close until he felt the heat from her body. He kissed her, softly at first, until the raging fire within demanded more. One hand settled on her left buttock and squeezed, the other fisted into her hair, angling her head for a more in-depth exploration of her wicked mouth.
Their tongues danced in unison to the drumming beat of their passion.
Their ragged moans and pants filled the room, the sound sending another surge of blood to his cock.
“Tell me you want me, Ava,” he said as he gripped her shirt and dragged it over her head.
The sight of her soft round breasts almost rendered him speechless. The pinkest nipples he had ever seen demanded his attention.
“God help me, you’re so beautiful.”
Without another word, he scooped her up into his arms and lowered her down onto the coverlet. In her embarrassment, she drew her arms across her chest, and so he climbed on top of her, pressed the full length of his body against hers and held her hands above her head as he reclaimed her mouth in another searing kiss.
Uncontrollable lust saw him grind his hips against her despite the fact they still wore breeches. Ava writhed beneath him, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips as if her body ached for the pleasure he had promised.
He was in danger of being swept away by his passion. The urge to mate, to pound hard came upon him. But his pledge to bring her satisfaction was one vow he was determined to keep.
“Don’t move,” he said, releasing her hands. “We need out of these damn breeches.”
She unhooked her legs, and he shuffled lower. With numerous sweeps of his tongue, he lavished her nipple, sucked and licked until she was panting.
She dug her fingers into his hair, guiding him to the other breast in need of the same level of devotion.
“Hurry, Valentine,” she gasped. “I’m not sure how long I can wait.”
“Desire can be overwhelming.” As could love, he thought. “Tell me you need me—in your life, in your body.”
“I have never needed anything more.”
Ava watched him come to stand at the edge of the bed. He dragged his shirt over his head and then unfastened the buttons on his breeches. She watched him yank them down below his hips, watched the solid length of his manhood spring free.
Heavens above!
She should be frightened, but every bit of this man was as spectacular as the rest.
Needing no further inducement to hurry, Valentine undid the buttons on her breeches and tugged. The white drawers she wore underneath stunned him momentarily.
“Breeches can be uncomfortable for a lady” was the only explanation she offered when he gave a frustrated sigh.
“I understand your need for wearing them,” he said, while she peeked at his throbbing erection. “But it is yet another layer of clothing keeping me from entering your body.”
Ava wiggled her hips as he drew the undergarment down to her knees. With a final tug, it joined the other discarded clothes on the floor.
Valentine’s scorching gaze scanned every part of her naked body.
“Is something wrong?” she said, feeling vulnerable and exposed as he focused on the dark triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs.
“Wrong? For once in my life, everything is right.”
Relief coursed through her. She feared his gallantry might prevent him proceeding. Tonight, she wanted to experience the physical bond of love. Tonight, she wanted the sinner, not the saint.
“I want you, Valentine,” she said, should he be in any doubt.
“Then you shall have me.”
He crawled up to kneel on the edge of the bed, giving her ample opportunity for another glimpse at the length of his arousal—so hard and solid. She expected him to cover her body, to have his thick rod of masculinity press against her intimate place. But he surprised her by spreading her legs wide and moistening his lips as if hungry for a feast.
“Prepare to be pleasured, madam,” he said as he bent his head.
He left a trail of scorching kisses from her knee to the top of her thigh. When he moved between her legs, she wondered what he would do, but the sudden kiss pressed to her flesh sent a jolt of excitement straight to her core.
Her heart shot up to her throat.
“Valentine, wait.” She threaded her fingers into his hair, trying to stall him.
The lick of his tongue on her aching bud robbed her of the will to fight.
“Valentine.”
Like a wild wanton, she writhed against his expert mouth. The coil inside wound tighter and tighter until she wanted to cry out his name, wanted to take him with her on a glorious journey to fulfilment. And then the coil snapped.
Waves of ecstasy rippled through her body.
Her legs trembled as she soared.
Valentine came up on his knees. Lavishing her with attention had done nothing to dampen his own ardour. Had she been a little more daring she might have touched him, but he did not give her time to consider the matter further.
Wrapping his fingers around his manhood as she had imagined doing, he positioned himself at her entrance. She sensed his brief hesitation.
“Don’t wait,” she breathed. It would be uncomfortable for a time, but she didn’t care.
“You’re certain?”
“I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He entered her slowly, withdrew a little and paused after each small nudge to give her a chance to catch her breath. He was so hard, so large, so magnificent, so male.
“I need to push deeper,” he panted. “Forgive me if this causes you distress.”
There was no time to answer. With a quick, hard thrust he pushed past her virginity.
Ava sucked in a sharp breath as he stretched her flesh. The searing pain tore a gasp from her lips.
Valentine moved to withdraw.
“No.” She wanted him. She needed him. “Just give me a moment.”
Regret swam in his eyes.
The muscles in his shoulders looked tense as he held himself rigid.
“Kiss me,” she said, trying to banish all trace of panic from her voice. “Make love to me.”
Valentine wasted no time in obeying her demands. He obliged her every whim, nuzzled her neck when she begged, thrust his tongue against hers when she gripped his hair and forced him to lock lips.
Slowly, he moved inside her, withdrawing, pushing a little harder and deeper each time. The sensation of his warm skin against hers set every nerve tingling. Soon, she forgot the pain and discomfort. The feeling of having him buried deep was like experiencing a piece of heaven on earth. His fluid strokes sparked the flame of desire. It wasn’t long before she was writhing and panting to his glorious tune.
“I need to quicken the pace if I’m to find my release.”
“Then hurry.” Ava wrapped her legs firmly around his hips.
Valentine closed his eyes briefly and groaned as he pounded hard. Ava clutched the muscles in his back and rocked to his pace. When he opened his eyes, she saw a raw look of possession, a carnal need to claim.
With a sudden urgency, he withdrew from her body, pumped his glistening manhood with his hand until his seed spurted onto her stomach.
“You’re mine, Ava,” he said between ragged breaths.
She recognised the truth in his words.
Lucius Montford Harcourt Valentine belonged to her now.
“Stay where you are,” he said, reaching beneath his pillow for a handkerchief to wipe away the evidence of his release. “I have not finished with you yet.”
He came to lie beside her, slipped his nimble fingers between her legs, stroked and pleasured her until she came apart once again.
“I’ve decided I am not letting you leave,” he said in jest.
Given the chance, she would have no objection.
Given the chance, she would remain locked in his warm embrace forever.
Chapter Fourteen
“I am not leaving my wife alone in the dark with a damn stranger.” Drake folded his arms across his chest, a clear sign he refused to compromise. He scanned the sea of faces seated in the drawing room—Juliet, Dariell and Ava—before his attention turned back to Valentine. “God’s teeth, you suspect this man, Cassiel, of stealing into Miss Kendall’s home and threatening to murder her servants.”
Valentine swallowed his frustration. He glanced at Ava seated on Drake’s blue damask sofa. The wrinkles around her eyes and between her brows conveyed her apprehension about meeting the mystic again.
Two days had passed since Ava sent Mr Cassiel a note asking him to attend Mr Drake’s dinner party. The scoundrel replied promptly, telling Ava that, as she would be in attendance, he did not need to meet with the Drakes prior to the event.
“Juliet can say she is unwell and does not wish to take part in the seance.” Valentine glanced at the mantel clock as it chimed a quarter past eleven. They had less than half an hour before Mr Cassiel arrived.
“Miss Faversham did the same when we met with Mr Cassiel,” Ava informed them. “She refused to go home and so sat in the hall, reading beneath the light of a candle lamp.”
Valentine thought it odd that a woman terrified by a character in a novel would want to stay in a house where the occupants were attempting to contact the dead. Then again, the dead did not get drunk and lose their temper.
Dariell sat forward and gave a curious hum. “This man who communes with spirits, it is important we let him believe he is alone in the room if we are to glimpse his true nature.”
Being slight of frame and extremely light on his feet, Dariell had opted to hide inside the window seat during the seance. Fortunately, the Frenchman had returned to town to meet with the actress set to play the role of Lockhart’s wife. Then again, Dariell always appeared when needed.
Drake sat forward. “I cannot sit alone in the dark and not know if Juliet is upset or distressed.”
Valentine might have mocked him, but he understood his friend’s need to protect the woman he loved. For a similar reason, Valentine had revisited the Pit and paid Connor Maguire a handsome sum.
“Please, Devlin,” Juliet said from her seat next to Ava. “What if Mr Cassiel has a genuine ability to speak to those who have passed? I want my paternal grandmother to know that I think of her often even though we have never met.”
Usually, Drake would berate anyone who believed such nonsense. He was a man who did not mince his words. Most men feared him. And yet with his wife, his gaze softened. “I swear if he does anything untoward we will send for the resurrectionists to take what is left of his body.”
Valentine smiled to himself. It seemed Drake would indulge his wife’s whims.
“Remember why we are all here,” Dariell said, clasping his hands together in prayer as he studied them. “Your expectations, they must be realistic, no? When I meet this man, I will know if his motives are honourable.”
Dariell excelled in reading the language of the body. Could he sense the intimacy whenever Valentine looked at Ava? Did he know that Valentine had slipped from the honourable path, had bedded an innocent and had yet to declare his intentions? Ava had remained at Valentine’s house since the night he rescued her from the Pit. She had slept in his bed last night, too.
“There is not much time,” Valentine said. “Are we all clear what we must do?”
Everyone nodded.
Dariell cleared his throat. “May I ask one question?”
“Of course.”
He turned to Ava, who sat with her hands clenched in her lap. “Miss Kendall, you are frightened. Yet I sense it stems from more than the terrible thing this man said about your parents. May I ask what it is about him that makes you tremble?”
Ava gulped. Heat turned her cheeks crimson. She glanced at the other people in the room before finally saying, “I—I find him too familiar.”
“Familiar?”
She shook her head. “Please, monsieur, do not ask me to explain.”
Valentine’s pulsed raced. Something else had happened in his mother’s drawing room. If that filthy rogue had put his hands on her, there would be hell to pay. He was about to jump up from his seat and insist they abandon their scheme but Dariel
l spoke.
“Know, madame, that at no time will you be alone with this gentleman. One word from you and I shall be at your side.”
“Thank you, monsieur. I only hope I can put on a convincing display, enough for Mr Cassiel to reveal his true intentions.”
“I have faith in your courage, madame.”
A growl resonated in Drake’s throat. “I do not like this. I do not like this one bit.”
The sudden echo of the brass knocker hitting the plate made the ladies catch their breaths.
The clip of the butler’s heeled shoes on the hall floor rang like a death knell.
“Cassiel is prompt,” Valentine said. “I’ll give him that.”
Silence descended.
The tension in the air proved palpable.
They were supposed to be enjoying an evening of merriment not sitting like mourners at a wake.
“It will look rather odd if he finds the room deathly silent when this is supposed to be a party,” Valentine added. “Does anyone have an amusing story?”
Another brief silence ensued.
“I caught Devlin on all fours growling at Rufus the other day.” Juliet chuckled. When Drake groaned, she arched a brow and said, “What? You were.”
“How else am I to get the beast off my bed when he pretends he’s not heard me?”
“Rufus is their dog,” Valentine said, noting Ava’s frown.
“A rather large dog,” Juliet added. “Though lovable all the same, just like his master.”
Drake smiled.
A knock on the door brought Copeland. He inclined his head to Drake. “Mr Cassiel is here, sir.”
Valentine’s heart thumped wildly in his chest. The man was guilty of distressing Miss Kendall. That was enough for Valentine to despise him.
“You may show him in, Copeland.”
They waited with bated breath.
Angelo Cassiel entered the room.
He was dressed all in black except for a blood-red cravat tied expertly around his throat. The contrast was striking, leant towards the macabre for one could not look at him without imagining the cravat was soaked in blood from a gash to the throat. Cassiel’s finely tailored clothes were expensive. Perhaps a spirit had sent a message conveying the place of a hidden legacy. Perhaps Mr Cassiel kept the information to himself and had stolen into the poor person’s house and robbed them of their inheritance.