Sounds of the servants returning to the study prompted Ian to step away from her. “I want to be alone with you,” he said low. “Tonight, when all is quiet I’ll come to your room. And then we’ll finish what we started here.”
The ride back to the house was an interesting experience, with six people crammed into a closed carriage that was designed to seat only four comfortably. Ian had hidden the vehicle in a nearby side alley and led the way. Angela, Rosemary, and the three aging servants followed quietly behind him like a bizarre group of ducklings.
Getting into the house unnoticed was another matter entirely. Mrs. Brown met them at the rear entrance wielding a broomstick with the dedication of a knight fighting in the Crusades. If it weren’t for Ian’s quick reflexes, his skull might have sustained permanent damage.
“Oh, your lordship, I had no idea ‘twas you!” Mrs. Brown exclaimed with a hand over her heart. “You scared ten years out of my life, you did.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Brown,” Ian said, relieving her of her weapon. “I’m sorry to have frightened you.” He felt oddly calm in the midst of such an unorthodox entrance into his own house. It seemed that unusual events were becoming a common occurrence around here lately. What was even more unusual, or possibly even disturbing, was that he took it all in stride with an uncharacteristic acceptance.
He watched Mrs. Brown’s eyes widen as she took in the sight of the others filing in after him. “Heavens, is that you, Miss Angela?” she asked, tactfully pretending not to notice Angela’s attire. “And Rosemary, too, I see. Who are these other people?”
Feeling a bit out of sorts for having to explain to a servant who the three strangers were standing in their back foyer, Ian said curtly, “We’ve acquired some additional help, Mrs. Brown. Could you see to their accommodations for the night? More permanent arrangements can be made on the morrow.”
Angela stepped in front of him in a move to protect his servant. “Mrs. Brown,” she said kindly, “we’ve brought with us three good and loyal servants from my previous household. With the conditions being as they were, Lord Blackridge has most graciously offered them a position here.”
Mrs. Brown’s expression remained impassive, except for the quick blink of her eyes. Ian suppressed his amusement over Angela’s use of diplomacy on his behalf. Her protective instincts were so ingrained in her that it was second nature for her to defend others without even thinking about it. Did she see him as such an ogre? He hoped in time she would come to trust him enough not to judge him so harshly.
“To be sure, Miss Angela, your lordship,” Mrs. Brown said. “I’ll get to it right away.”
Turning toward the three servants, Angela introduced them. “Mrs. Haversham, Connors, Viola, this is Mrs. Brown. She’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping tonight.” They each nodded in understanding and moved to follow Mrs. Brown.
The last in line, Viola stopped before Angela. “I’m glad to see you away from the likes of the baron, my dear,” she said, her voice parched with age. Placing her gnarled hand on Angela’s arm, she continued, “It’s all come full circle, child. Mayhap this time fate will right itself.”
Angela could only stare at the old woman. Before she could get the words she wanted to speak off her frozen tongue, Viola was out of sight, swallowed by darkness. “What – what do you suppose she meant by that?” she asked no one in particular.
She looked at Ian, catching his intent gaze. Rosemary had disappeared, and Angela suddenly realized they were alone together. A small oil lamp cast an amber glow in a weak radius around it. The way the light reflected in Ian’s eyes, it made them appear positively predatory. The blatant desire and raw sexual need she saw there was impossible to miss, causing Angela’s breath to catch in her throat.
“Perhaps Viola knows something of your past,” he said, his voice deep and rich.
Angela licked her dry lips. “Do you suppose she knows who my father is?” The subject was fast losing its hold on her attention. Her mind, her body, and her senses were all shifting toward something less tangible, and yet as powerful as the pull of the moon against the tides.
He stepped closer to her and leaned in, inhaling deeply, his nostrils flaring. “She’s old enough to have been around when your mother was alive. By her words alone, we can assume she has some knowledge of the subject. Now,” he said, taking her into his arms. “It’s time we went to bed.”
Fire ran through Angela’s veins, her nipples hardening against the solid wall of his chest. His mouth came down on hers, hot and demanding, turning her legs to jelly. She felt the thick ridge of his arousal pressing into her belly, causing heat to pool between her thighs. Every part of her was aware of him – how his lips felt against hers, where their bodies touched, the smell of his shaving lotion. She became disoriented for a moment, and then realized he’d picked her up without even breaking the kiss, cradling her in his arms.
Pulling his mouth from hers, he gazed at her briefly, then without a word, turned down the lamp and headed through the darkness to the stairs. Miraculously, they made it to her room without crashing into anything, or breaking their necks. Someone – Rosemary, most likely, had already lit a couple of lamps, and had turned down the bedcovers, revealing crisp, white sheets. The evening was warm, a gentle breeze fluttering the filmy curtains at the room’s two windows.
“It’s amazing what one can accomplish with the proper motivation,” Ian said with a rakish grin.
“Do you think we should be doing this,” Angela asked, still nestled in his arms, “with your mother here, I mean?”
“My mother isn’t here. She’s in her own room, asleep.”
“You know what I mean.”
“We’ve gone beyond the barriers of propriety, princess, and now that I’ve had a taste of you, I hunger for more.” His grip loosened, allowing Angela’s feet to drop to the floor. “As deliciously adorable as you are in breeches, I think it’s time to remove them.”
Stepping back from him, Angela ran her gaze down his magnificent form, pausing for a moment on the distinctive bulge in his trousers before moving back up again. “I think it’s time to remove your clothes, too, my lord,” she said with a saucy smile. “And I would like to do the honors.”
Spreading his arms wide, he rasped, “I’m at your mercy, princess.”
Angela’s mouth went dry, as with trembling fingers, she began unbuttoning his immaculately tailored jacket. She marveled at the physical differences between them as she concentrated on her task. He was so much larger than her – the width of his shoulders, the muscled expanse of his chest, the strength of his arms.
As soon as the jacket hit the floor, her hands were skimming over the finely woven material of his shirt. She felt as though he were a wild animal, his power barely leashed while he allowed her to explore as she wished. It was by his will alone, Angela realized, that he restrained himself from acting on instinct and taking what he wanted. This, in turn, gave her a sense of power, the feeling that she was in charge, that it was she who set the pace. He possessed the size and strength to dominate her, to overcome her, yet he didn’t use that power against her.
5
Villarreal / The Devil Rogue
Chapter 19
ANGELA TURNED HER attention to the buttons on his shirt, releasing each one down to the waistband of his pants. She pulled the edges apart, revealing skin made golden by the mellow glow of the lamps. She heard his sharp intake of breath when her hands skimmed along his belly and ribcage. Her fingers traveled slowly up his chest, and then over his shoulders, slipping the material away until it draped in loose folds down his arms.
The heat radiating off his body engulfed her, raising her own temperature to a dangerous level. Suddenly, she felt overdressed, but she wasn’t finished with her expedition just yet. With her lips, she traced the path of each scar, her tongue tasting the saltiness of his flesh. Finding his nipple, she lightly sucked on it, a thrill shooting through her belly when it puckered, accompanied by a low groan.
<
br /> She looked up at him. “Where did you get these scars?”
His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I was sixteen. One of my father’s hunting dogs had turned vicious and attacked me.”
“I’m so sorry you had to endure such pain,” she said softly, sympathizing with the younger version of the man standing before her.
“It was a long time ago. The memory of it has since faded. I was rather proud of the scars back then.” His lips curved. “They made me feel more rugged, more masculine.”
“I cannot imagine a more rugged or masculine man than you are right now,” Angela said, smiling.
“I was quite scrawny at that age.”
“Well, they detract not at all from your beauty, unlike my own—”
“Do not say it. Your scars bear witness to the victory of your survival – your perseverance of the baron’s tyranny.” He placed his hands on either side of her face. “You are a lovely, sensual woman, Angela. I’ve known many beautiful women, but none of them can match your inner spirit.”
“I don’t think I care to hear of all the beautiful women you’ve known, my lord,” Angela said with a spark of jealousy.
“I’ve forgotten every single one of them since the moment I saw you, princess.”
“Nice try.”
“If you continue with what you were doing, I guarantee no one but you will occupy my thoughts. In fact, when you touch me the way you were, all intelligence takes flight.”
Angela laughed, warmed by his admission. It mirrored her own reaction to him. “Then I believe it’s time to remove these,” she said, reaching for the fastenings on his breeches.
“I’m all yours,” he growled.
Angela slid the now open breeches down his narrow hips, freeing the rigid phallus jutting proudly from the thatch of black curls. Stepping back, she admired his naked body. He was magnificently formed, more perfect than any marble statue could ever hope to be, because he was flesh and bone. The sight was such a stark contradiction to her own female curves, the golden patch of hair between her thighs, her sex hidden deep within her, where his was displayed so blatantly.
She began by placing gentle kisses on his chest, her tongue darting out to lick each nipple in turn, and then trailed down the center to his belly button. She smiled against his skin when she heard him hiss through his teeth. Her hands explored every plane, every ridge of muscle, and as she moved lower, caressed his firm buttocks.
Kneeling in front of him, she wrapped her fingers around his penis, completely absorbed by its size and shape, and the velvety softness surrounding its steely hardness. Slipping her tongue out, she licked the tip, so soft and smooth, tasting the tiny droplet that had been released, evidence of his state of arousal. Still curious, Angela took him fully into her mouth, closing her lips around the thick shaft, exploring further with her tongue.
“Sweet Jesus.”
Ian’s temples pounded, his chest expanding with the need to fill his lungs with more air. The sensation of Angela’s mouth on his cock was something he had not anticipated. It was ecstasy in its purest form, setting his blood on fire. He was consumed by it. Eyes closing and head dropping back, he allowed himself to become lost for just a moment.
“My God,” he said, grabbing her shoulders, and pulling her to her feet. “If I let you continue, my sweet angel, it will be over before it’s even begun. We need to get you out of those clothes – now.”
Urgently, he fumbled with the buttons of the men’s jacket she wore. Once it was removed, his clumsy fingers tangled in the cloth of her shirt.
With a huff of exasperation, Angela made a suggestion. “Why don’t you just rip it off?”
“What?”
“I said why don’t you just tear it off me? It would be quicker, and the thought of it quite excites me, I must admit.”
“Great Christ, Angela,” he said hoarsely, “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve managed to get me to a level of need that I, quite frankly, fear may become too intense.” Ian practically groaned the words, his breathing labored, muscles trembling from the force of his control.
“I’m not made of glass, Ian. Rip away.”
Needing no further encouragement, Ian tore the material of her shirt down the front, sending buttons flying in every direction. The sight of her bare breasts drove him further over the edge. Lifting her, he pulled her to him, fastening his mouth fully over one nipple, sucking and licking, while he worked on removing her breeches.
Both of them completely naked now, he moved with her in his arms toward the bed. He continued to suckle at one breast, then the other, as he lay her down upon the cool sheets. Spreading her legs with his knees, he opened her to his wicked fingers. She was slick and hot, writhing under him in her own state of building passion.
Positioning himself at the opening to her body, he thrust into her as far as he could go, a shout of triumph bursting from his throat. He heard her cry of pleasure, and covered her mouth with his, kissing her hotly, passionately.
He pumped in and out with long, powerful strokes, while she welcomed him home into her honeyed heat. Her husky groans and cries of delight beckoned him like a siren’s song, luring him further into the realm of fairytales and dreams. They were separate, yet singular, driven by an instinct a millennia old.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded in a raspy voice.
When she did, he went deeper still, the head of his cock pushing against the entrance to her womb. For a split second, he remembered her request to prevent a pregnancy, but it was too late. Her inner muscles contracted around him, signaling her impending climax. He came with an explosion of such intensity, that for a moment, he felt as though he were no longer in his own body, transcended to some other plane of existence on a current of joy.
He rested his head in the curve of her shoulder, gasping for air. Both of their bodies were slick with perspiration, already cooling now that they lay motionless. “My God, Angela,” he whispered hoarsely. “Is it not apparent to you now that you are the only woman who occupies my thoughts?”
Angela stroked the back of his neck, running her fingers through his dampened hair. Her breathing was steadily calming to a normal rhythm, as was the beating of her heart. Except that it seemed her heart had filled with an overwhelming emotion, making her chest ache. Tears escaped from the outer corners of her eyes, trailing down her temples.
When had she fallen in love with him?
She supposed it didn’t really matter when it happened, just that it had. And whether or not his proposal of marriage was born of a guilty conscience, she was, regardless, in love with him. Suddenly, the ache turned to warmth, a feeling of blissful resolve washing over her. She would have moments like these to cherish in the years to come. It didn’t really matter how this ended.
He stirred, moving to her side, tucking her head on his shoulder. Sighing, he said, “I’m sorry, princess, I forgot about your concern about an untimely pregnancy.”
Angela turned her head up to look at him. “Aren’t you concerned about it, as well?”
“Of course it concerns me. It’s just that you bewitch me so, I can think of nothing else but kissing your body, touching every inch of you, and burying myself deep inside you.”
His bold words brought a blush to Angela’s cheeks, even though her recent behavior was just as wicked, if not more so. “I am equally to blame, my lord, for in my haste to have those very things, all other matters ceased to exist.”
“Since you’ve reminded me of those things, dearest,” he said huskily, placing her hand around his thickening arousal, “I must point out that it has renewed my resolve to have them – again.”
Angela’s lips slanted with a devilish smile. “I believe I can oblige you, my lord.” She slid a leg over his muscular thighs, giving his proudly erect member her undivided attention.
With a growl, he grabbed her, his hands on her waist, and lifted her above him. “I want you to ride me. I want to see your face, watch your breasts as you rise and fall upo
n me.”
Slowly, he lowered her until he was fully sheathed, her thighs spread wide over his hips.
“Ohhh, my God,” Angela breathed. She felt so wicked, so wanton, the way she straddled him, completely exposed to his gaze.
“Lift yourself on your knees, like this.”
He showed her, guiding her gently up and down until she found the rhythm. She heard his gasp as he watched her move. He seemed captivated by the way her breasts thrust forward, swaying with her movements.
She closed her eyes, her senses swirling, building in intensity like an approaching tempest on the horizon. Her body became a vessel into which pleasure poured, through him to her, radiating from deep in her center, outward to the tips of her fingers and toes. Placing her hands on his chest for support, her head dropped down. Long, golden tresses brushed his skin as she rolled her hips forward and back in a sinuous dance of temptation and seduction. Her body knew without conscious thought where to guide it, what to do, how to move.
His hands on her thighs flexed tighter as she increased the pace. She gasped her pleasure with each breath. She felt every magnificent inch of him as each time she rose, and then thrust herself downward, his thickness stretched her, filled her.
His hands began roaming over her hips, her buttocks, up her back, then higher, to tangle in her hair. He guided her mouth to his, kissing her with deep strokes of his tongue, mimicking the plunge and retreat of the thick member penetrating between her legs.
Then he sat up, his mouth trailing a hot path down the side of her neck before closing over a breast, his tongue flicking over her nipple. He molded her breast in his hand, suckling the sweet offering, and then moved on to her other breast, giving it equal attention. Angela quivered with the pain and the pleasure of it, her pace increasing with her impending climax.
She sat in his lap, impaling herself upon him with fevered strokes. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she clutched him tightly, her breasts crushed against his rock-hard chest. Her movements created a delightful friction between the point of her flesh that was her pleasure center, and the base of his shaft. Her efforts, combined with his deep and powerful thrusts, released the floodgates, wringing a cry from her lips as she convulsed violently around him.
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