“Your confession is safe in my care,” Maura assured him. “Besides, I do not think anyone in the household considers her medicinal tinctures pleasant.”
Rowan laughed, the joyous sound carrying on the breeze. “I am pleased that you accepted my invitation. Earlier, I feared the grounds might be too muddy for a ride this afternoon.”
The mention of the storm brought Maura back to the gazebo. Through flashes of lightning, she saw glimpses of their debauched coupling. There was a fierce savagery to Everod’s face as he speared his manhood into her frenziedly, until she thought she might die from the pleasure. After a while, Maura no longer heard the rain and the rolling thunder. All she heard was her heart pounding in her ears, the slap of slick flesh, and their hoarse cries of surrender.
Rowan scowled at her expression. “If you are concerned about your mount, my dear, you needn’t be. I selected a surefooted gelding for you. No hill or dale will cause it to falter in its task.”
“You are very thoughtful, Rowan.”
She did not look like a lady who had spent the night in the arms of one of the most notorious of les sauvages nobles. Before they had departed for London, her aunt had tossed out Maura’s old riding habit, and replaced it with a scarlet redingote, matching half-boots, and a clever black satin hat with a large black plume pinned to the front.
Maura stifled a yawn with her gloved hand.
“A restless night, love?” Rowan asked indulgently. His tone was patronizing enough to make Maura clench her teeth. “Did the storms trouble you?”
“Not as much as I troubled Abbot and the rest of the staff,” she said, their horses walking side by side.
Aunt Georgette would not have been able to resist telling Rowan about Maura’s nocturnal mischief. Thank goodness, her aunt did not know about Everod or what had transpired in the gazebo as they waited for the rain to diminish.
“I could not sleep, so I took a walk in the gardens. I was caught in the downpour, and tracked mud and water throughout the house,” she admitted, still chagrined that her attempts to clean up the mess only smeared her footprints. “Did you not notice Abbot was instructing three maids on the proper method of cleaning the marble in the front hall when we left?”
He signaled his horse to halt when they reached the summit of a hill. She did the same. “Georgette mentioned your penchant for night promenades,” he said, leaning forward and giving his horse a friendly pat. “She also mentioned a missing slipper.”
Ah, yes, she mused humorlessly. How could she have forgotten her slipper? Clearly, she did not possess the devious mind needed to carry on a clandestine liaison with a lover. Even if she had remembered her slipper, she could not explain away the mud on the floors and her soiled cloak.
Or the loss of my virginity.
Rowan chuckled. “A little like Perrault’s Cendrillon, don’t you think?”
Maura smiled faintly. “Except that my slipper was made of colored kid instead of glass.”
Nor did she have a haughty stepmother or stepsisters who were cruel to her. Her serious sea-gray eyes settled on the gentleman beside her. Rowan aspired to be her handsome prince. He was definitely handsome and kind for the appointment. Unfortunately, the man whom she desired craved only her body.
He startled her by grasping her hand. “The next time you walk the gardens at night, I pray you will invite me to join you,” he said, his mouth quirking in an endearing manner. “One can never tell what mischief might occur beneath a sky full of stars.”
While Rowan courted her niece in Hyde Park, Georgette courted danger in the guise of her handsome stepson Lord Everod. She had come to the decision that a confrontation with her former lover and present enemy was necessary. The man was determined to ruin her schemes.
With luck, age had taught Everod the wisdom of compromise. Perhaps they both could have what they wanted. It was simply a matter of negotiation, and Georgette had worn her favorite dress for such occasions.
It was a pale green muslin dress in which the bodice had been cut lower than just above the bosom, exposing a generous portion of her breasts. When she was concerned about appearances, a white diaphanous scarf was threaded through a slit in the center, and pinned at each shoulder.
Ten years ago, Worrington had given her two splendid pins that were shaped like leaves. Set with diamonds and emeralds, the pair complemented her dress. When Georgette was feeling informal, she removed the modest scarf from her bosom. Her husband thought she wore her wicked dress only for him. However, there were times when she had sought out other gentlemen.
No man had ever been able to assuage all her desires. At least, not for long.
Everod’s manservant Dunley proved no challenge for her. Practically drooling on her cleavage the moment he opened the door, he believed her when she told the servant that Everod had hired her for the afternoon.
It did beg one to ponder exactly what the viscount did with his afternoons.
The servant moved toward the stairs to alert his lordship that his lady friend had arrived. It was all she wanted to know. Georgette stopped the man before he climbed the stairs. Feigning embarrassment, she haltingly explained that Lord Everod had prepared her in advance. Like a Covent Garden actress, she had a part to play and the tale required an element of surprise.
The darling man began stuttering when she accidentally dropped her reticule. Without waiting for the servant to retrieve it, Georgette leaned over and gave him a chance to peek at her breasts. She had no qualms about using her body to gain what she wanted.
When she smiled apologetically at Dunley, the servant told her precisely which bedchamber belonged to Everod.
Men. They were such adorable simpletons!
When Everod had awakened, the first thing he noticed was the dried blood on his right hand. The tiny smudges were proof that his hours with Maura in the gazebo had not been a dream. There had been other stark reminders of their night together. He discovered another streak of Maura’s virginal blood on his inner thigh, several more stains on his shirt that he had used to wipe his spilt seed from his cock.
Everod had promptly dropped the shirt, and summoned Dunley for a bath. He did not feel guilty for claiming Maura’s virginity. He might have coaxed her, but the final decision had been hers alone. When they parted, she had kissed him gently on the lips and walked away. If she had not regretted the loss of her innocence, by damn, neither would he.
Freshly clean from his bath, Everod was ready to put Maura from his thoughts for a day. Of late, he had neglected his friends and his clubs. Bedding a lady did not alter his daily routine, and he was determined to stay away from her for a few days. Perhaps if she missed him, Maura would come to him.
Humming to himself, he turned at the soft rustle at the door. Lady Worrington was the last person he expected to see in his bedchamber. “How the devil did you get in here?”
Appreciating that he wore only his breeches, Georgette sauntered into the room. “Rather easily, I must confess. Dunley assumed you hired me for the afternoon.”
She circled around him, but he matched her movement, eyeing her as if he had just discovered a viper on the floor. “Honestly, Everod, I must know. Whatever do you do with these women you pay?”
“Play checkers,” he snapped, silently cursing his manservant for admitting the only lady he had been tempted to strangle with his bare hands. “Dunley has much to answer for. I pay him well to bar unsavory characters from my residence.” He sneered at her. “If you wonder where you rank in my opinion, whores take precedence over you, Lady Worrington.”
She sighed, heaving her breasts forward to give him an eyeful. “Tut, my darling man, if you recall, I can be rather perverse. Cruelty in a man only arouses me.”
Everod snatched her wrist when she tried to caress his chest. “That’s it. You are leaving.” Ignoring her struggles, he dragged her toward the door. “I will happily toss your arse into the street.”
Georgette sank her teeth into his arm, gaining her freedom. She
raced to the door and slammed it shut. Before he could reach her, she had turned the lock and plunged the key down the front of her bodice.
She leaned against the door and gloated.
“Bloody bitch!” Inches above her head, he pounded his fist against the door. “How have you kept my father beguiled for so long? I saw your true nature when I was fifteen.”
“Worrington adores me. I fulfill his every whim, and he treats me like a queen!” she said, her blue eyes flashing in triumph.
“While you secretly bed every man who catches your fancy,” he said, his voice dripping with disgust.
Her expression softened into something akin to hurt. “I fancied you once, Everod. You were such a beautiful boy. I saw you watching me, too, when your father brought me home. Did you think of me at night when you were alone in your bed? Stroking your cock, your cods tight with anticipation of your release, wishing it was you instead of your father fucking me.”
He shook with rage. At least that’s what he wanted to believe. The last time Everod had been this close to Georgette, she had teased him into shoving up her skirts while she had unfastened his breeches. Burning with lust, she had parted her thighs and he had betrayed his father without a thought to the consequences. Georgette had a manner about her that drained a man’s brain. If Maura and his father had not discovered them together, Everod wondered how deeply Georgette’s poison-dipped claws would have scored his flesh.
If one knew where to look, he still bore the faint thin lines where she had marked his back when she had quaked and shivered in his arms. His cock twitched at the potent vision of him pounding himself into her. Horrified that he could be vaguely aroused by her, he stepped away from her.
“What do you want, Georgette?”
Believing she had gained the upper hand, she stalked him. “I propose a truce, Everod.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” She shrugged elegantly. “There is no reason to have lies between us. You know that if Worrington had not learned of our affection for one another, you would still be coming to my bed.”
He baldly laughed at her conceit. “You were my first lover, Georgette. There have been others who were prettier, wittier, and definitely cleverer in my bed.”
Everod instantly thought of Maura, and the sweet breathy sounds she made when she shuddered in his arms. He would trade one thousand nights with an experienced Georgette and her Machiavellian wiles for one night with Maura. “I barely recall why you appealed to me at all.”
“This is about your father, isn’t it?” she demanded, believing she understood him. “We were careless. He would never have to learn about our arrangement.”
Brazenly moving closer, she pressed her nose against his chest and inhaled. A small sound of pleasure rumbled in her throat. Everod grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away, when he felt her tongue lave his flat nipple.
“No, Georgette,” he said coldly. “It isn’t about my father. This is about you, and what you did to me … my family.
“Of course,” she said, her expression regretful. “You blame me.”
Everod closed his eyes, striving for patience. “I pity you, Georgette. I do not understand how your niece has remained so guileless when she has been nurtured by a manipulative succubus.”
“Stay away from Maura!” she shouted, retreating out of his reach.
It was the first genuine reaction Everod had elicited from Georgette. “Why? Are you frightened I might sully the only person who truly loves you? Axe you afraid I might convince her to hate you?”
He must have hit on a partial truth. The sleepy-eyed passion she had used to tempt him into resuming their affair had disappeared. Lady Worrington appeared tense and hostile. “I have plans for Maura. Do not interfere. If you cross me, I will use Worrington and anyone else at my disposal to hurt you!”
Georgette squeaked when Everod’s hand shot out and caught her just under the jaw. He backed her up until the back of her head struck the door. Her claws were sheathed by kid gloves, so frantic attempts to break his hold were futile. Everod tipped his head to the side as he studied what he viewed as pure evil.
Her beauty was a deadly lure.
Fortunately, he was immune.
“My father should have cut your throat when he pulled me off you, Lady Worrington.” He leaned in closer, pleased with the fear he had put in her eyes. “If he is foolish enough to love you, then he deserves his fate. But understand this, approach me again or attempt to malign me or any of my friends, and I will come for you. No one will be able to protect you. When I am finished, you will have a scar to match mine.”
Everod tilted his head back so she could see the ugly reminder of what Georgette had cost him. The countess made a choking sound of distress. With his hand still closed around her neck, Everod used his other hand to dispassionately dig into her bodice and extract the key. He held it up in front of her wide eyes. “You may leave.”
Georgette snatched the key from his fingers. Giving him a baleful glare, she jammed the key into the lock. Seconds later, the door was open. “I hope one of your damn whores gives you the French pox, you bastard,” she said, her bosom heaving with her barely contained fury. “Keep away from Maura!”
“Too late,” Everod mocked too softly for the lady to hear him. Leaning against the frame of the door, he watched with indifference as Lady Worrington marched down the stairs and out of his life.
“Maura is mine to do as I please.”
Chapter Eighteen
Someone knocked once.
From her prone position on the bed, Maura angled her face toward the door. Who could be bothering her? Aunt Georgette had ordered her to nap for the rest of the afternoon. Her maid should not have bothered her for hours.
The late nights were taking its toll on the family. The earl had been ill for a little more than a week. He continued to complain about a bodily weakness and dull pains in his chest. The weakness had plagued him so much he had not joined them on several of the outings.
Her aunt was concerned. Fearing that the entire household would be overwhelmed by her husband’s illness, she had remained in the kitchen for days brewing one of her favorite medicinal remedies, enough to dose the entire household. Aunt Georgette had sent up a tray consisting of tea, buttered toast, and jam to assist in making her bitter herbal tonic palatable.
Maura had nibbled on the toast and dutifully swallowed two spoonfuls of her aunt’s tonic, for protesting would not have mattered. In the end, Aunt Georgette always got her way. A single heavy knock rattled the door. She rolled onto her feet to see who was brave enough to ignore her aunt’s dictates.
She opened the door.
No one was at the threshold. Puzzled, Maura stuck her head out the door and checked the hall from side to side. The corridor was empty. Was it a prank? Yawning, she stepped back inside and closed the door.
Before she could turn away, she heard the knock again.
Snatching open the door, she hoped to catch the trickster. Maura opened her mouth to scream when she saw Everod in the doorway. The viscount deftly clamped his hand over her mouth and marched her back into the bedchamber.
Maura gaped at him as he closed and locked the door. He had slipped into the Worringtons’ town house in the middle of the afternoon. The man’s daring bordered on lunacy!
“How did you get into the house unnoticed?” she whispered.
Everod removed his hat, and threw it onto her dressing table. His gloves quickly followed. Lazily, he stalked her as she backed away from him. “It was remarkably easy. I came through the gardens and walked through the door.”
“Are you mad? You took an incredible risk,” she scolded him. “What if one of the servants had caught you?”
The fire in his amber-green eyes glowed with interest at her state of undress. Since she was supposed to be napping, she wore only her chemise. She thought about the last time he had caught her alone in her nightgown.
Maura trembled.
“I entere
d with the stealth of a housebreaker, love,” Everod said, moving closer when she backed up against one of the posts of her bed.
“If you had been caught, your father would have summoned the constable and demanded that you be charged with trespassing,” she said huskily.
Maura did not pull away when he threaded his hand through her long hair. He bent down and inhaled the fragrant strands. “How can it be viewed as trespassing when all of this will be mine one day?”
She could hardly fault his logic. Her pulse quickened when his lips brushed her cheek. “Why did you take such a foolhardy risk?”
“To see you.” He grinned at her wide-eyed stare.
Maura pushed at his chest, but the man was too heavy to budge. “I would have seen you at Lord and Lady Kersting’s ball.”
Everod fingered her puckered nipple through the chemise. “I warrant not like this,” he growled, dragging her mouth to his.
His kiss was openmouthed and demanding. Giving up her weak argument, she closed her eyes and leaned against him. When she tentatively touched her tongue against his, he accepted her surrender and deepened the kiss. Everod cupped her left breast in his hand and squeezed. Her tender flesh still bore the faint bruises from their previous lovemaking.
He tore his mouth away, and lowered his head to kiss the exposed flesh of her breast. “Say my name.”
“Everod,” Maura said softly, her gaze instinctively moving to the door.
The viscount paused, giving her an annoyed look. “My other name. The one I coaxed from your sweet lips as I pleasured you.” He grabbed the bottom hem of her chemise and began tugging it upward.
“Townsend,” she hastily said, thinking he would cease his teasing and release her chemise.
He pulled the undergarment over her head.
“No!”
Everod gave her a wolfish grin at her protestations. Maura crossed her arms over her breasts. He ran his hand over the length of the chemise, and then twisted it until it resembled a rope. “Who do you think will win this game of wills?”
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