War Chest: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 5

by Lynne Connolly

  At the memory, she stiffened. “You had my sister.”

  “Once. I thought it a casual encounter with a maid, a light relief after a particularly fraught time in my life. I only discovered her identity later. I know you, Ruth. I suspected you were more than you said from the start, but I never imagined you were her sister. You don’t look the least like her, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. I might have had a better life if I did.” With Rhea’s beauty and her own common sense she might have made one passable woman. Except her common sense seemed to have deserted her. “Marcus, we both know I cannot stay. Tonight, just for tonight, can we be two different people? Can I be a different woman?”

  He gazed at her, smiling. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Yes. Oh yes, I do.”

  Her heart burst at the seams as he bent to kiss her again. He kept it brief, murmuring, “I can’t resist you any longer, sweetheart,” before returning to the fray.

  Sweetheart, he’d called her sweetheart! Ruth never imagined a man would ever call her that. Resigned to her fate, or so she thought, she’d allowed herself no self-pity, but accepted the lack of that one thing in her life. Now she would get a taste of what she had missed and she could not regret her rashness. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do, but she refused to think about it now.

  Marcus unfastened the belt at the waist of her robe and gently drew the sides apart. That silk robe he’d given her when she rescued him from the fire lay beneath them. He watched her as he unravelled her night braid, loosening her hair and spreading it out. He combed its length with his fingers, watching their progress.

  “Touching you is my undoing,” he said. “Every part of you is silky-fine, like porcelain.” He unfastened the bow at her throat and opened the placket of her night rail before bending to kiss her throat. “At least, every part I’ve touched. I want to find out what the rest feels like.” He lifted his head and cocked a brow.

  Ruth said nothing. She could not, the lump in her throat was too big for her to speak past it. “You don’t need to compliment me. You have me.”

  “I do, do I not?” He grinned, his features softening. Warmth filled those eyes she had once considered icy, but would now designate as stormy. He was a man of volatile moods, but he worked hard not to appear so. How many other people realised under the arrogant exterior lay a man of deep passion? Certainly his servants knew, for he did not spare them, but he paid them over the usual rate, in order, he’d told her once, to compensate for serving as man of such vile temperament. “Ruth, I won’t take you against your will. Talk to me.”

  “What should I say?”

  “Tell me what you like. Tell me if anything I do does not please you. Only then will I learn.”

  “Don’t concern yourself with that. I will be moving on in the morning. One of the maids can help Andrea until the other nursery maid arrives. I’ve laid out plans for the next five years. Everything is in order.” She was glad she’d been able to do that for him, at least.

  A scowl passed over his face, but then was gone. He had thought of something, then changed his mind. “We will not talk of that.” He touched his lips to hers. “Only this moment exists, and we will use it to the best of our abilities.”

  Briefly it occurred to Ruth she was following in her sister’s footsteps, accepting a night of passion from the man who had—but he had not. Rhea had been experienced already, and used Marcus to try to gain respectability for the children. Ruth did not do that, and she would not. She wanted him, pure and simple. Only this moment, this time existed for the both of them. No yesterday, and no tomorrow.

  She tugged at his coat. “You are overdressed, your grace.”

  “So I am.” Sitting up, he rapidly divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, undoing the buttons carelessly, until she reached out and helped him, putting her fingers to methodical use, concentrating on her task so she would not over-think herself and back out of it.

  He watched her unfasten the long line of buttons on his waistcoat. Gentlemen tended to leave the first few undone, but the rest were securely fastened. She put her heart into every one, grazing his firm body, covered only by his shirt now.

  He flung the garments aside, and undid the buttons at his wrists. The lace flowed over his hands until he shook it back and impatiently unknotted his neckcloth. It was secured with a pearl pin, which he drew out and tossed in the general direction of his coat. The pin fell with a light clatter to the floorboards. When Ruth would have gone after it, in case it fell through the cracks between the boards, he grabbed her hands and pressed them each side of her head, against the pillow.

  “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.” He kissed her. This time, with two thin layers of lawn between them, she felt every flex of his chest as he stretched out over her. He kept his elbows firmly planted on the mattress, touching her but not making her bear his weight.

  His warmth scorched her, his proximity made her heart beat faster. When he kissed her, she opened her mouth as he taught her, and he rewarded her by giving her pleasure. Such pleasure that she sighed when he touched her breast, groaned into his mouth as he caressed it and pressed the centre of her nipple. He drank her cry, kissing her with a fervency she had no wish or will to discourage. When he finished the kiss, he touched his mouth to the corner of hers, then down, past her throat to the opening of her night rail. He leaned back on his haunches.

  “Come, my sweet. Let me see you.”

  Chapter Nine

  The rough sound of his voice added an extra thrill. Ruth clasped his forearms when he reached for her and helped her sit up, leaning her head against his shoulder as he dragged her night rail up her body. Cool air hit her back, marking the trail of lawn. When he reached her arms, she lifted them, enabling him to drag the garment up, over her head and away. Neither took their attention away from the other to mark where it landed.

  His hot gaze branded her for his possession. Her cheeks heating, for she never allowed a man to see her in this state before, Ruth reached for the fall of his breeches. Fumbling in her nervousness, she slipped the buttons through their holes, watching intently as she revealed his underwear. She pulled the straps through the buckles at the sides of his knees, and then looked up.

  He was smiling, so warmly she almost wondered what caused his expression and looked over her shoulder to discover it. Of course, she had done that. His obvious admiration spread through her, covered some of the fissures caused by years of disparagement and even humiliation. She could admit it now, in the safety of this little room, with a man who wanted her.

  How much she was about to discover. He unfastened the drawstring at his waist himself and inelegantly shoved his remaining clothing down to his knees. He leaned forward, resting on his palms, and rid himself of the rest of his clothes by kicking them off.

  Instead of coming down against her, as she expected, he gazed down at her, scanning her body with his eyes, taking in every part of her. “You are shockingly lovely, my lady,” he said softly. Before she could protest, he kissed her.

  Protestation had become a habit; demeaning herself before others could do so an act of self-defence. Discomfort swallowed her up, but he would not allow her to cover herself, bringing his hands up to clasp hers and guide them up to the pillow either side of her head. His smile told her how much he enjoyed her appearance. “In my eyes, you are lovely. Do I look as if I don’t want this?”

  Swallowing, she shook her head. Her hair, curling past her shoulders, tickled her skin. She smiled past her pain. “Unremarkable, I would have said.” She shrugged. Would not any naked female serve?

  Not by the look on his face. His cheekbones were flushed, his grey eyes dark and his mouth full and slightly open. A great lion, poised over her, ready to pounce. “Say one word, just one about your appearance, other than to agree with me, and I’ll leave.”

  Her gasp echoed around the small room. She would not ris
k that.

  “Open your legs.”

  Watching his face, trying not to think about what he would see, she parted her thighs.

  “Wider.”

  She obeyed him until her knees hit his spread ones. He shifted, so he was kneeling inside hers. “I’m going to taste you.”

  Shockingly, he bent his head and suited actions to words. His tongue flicked against her clitoris.

  Ruth had not spent most of her life reading and learned nothing. One text she discovered at the back of her father’s shelf of sermons served her now. It contained French engravings of couples engaged in the most startling pursuits, in the greatest detail and some stories, which she shamefully devoured. She knew the words, she knew what would happen, but nothing could have prepared her for the intimacy of a man’s tongue caressing her there.

  Stuffing her fist into her mouth, she bit down. Otherwise she would cry out and bring Andrea running. The nursemaid’s room was the other side of the large nursery area, but she was attuned to cries in the night, and she would come.

  He growled low, the sound adding vibrations to what he was doing. Long licks delineated her crease. How could he do such a thing? Would he expect her to perform the same office for him? She was barely able to comprehend the length and colour of his erection, and now this?

  Sensations bombarded her, striking her with such force that she flinched. Shock, delight and then the waves of unbearable feeling coursing through every part of her. She jerked away, but he held her thighs firmly between his hands, and he would not let her move. Licking turned to kisses, sucking her clitoris—another word she had learned from the book of engravings—and releasing it in rapid succession. She whimpered, the sound muffled by her fist. She could not bear this, she could not…

  He plunged his tongue inside her. Ruth came apart. When she slammed her fist on to the mattress she barely missed hitting herself. Not that she would care, or even notice, because by then she was thrashing from side to side, desperately trying to pull away while he drove her to a peak of sensation.

  Ruth couldn’t have said where she was or what was happening to her when he rose up and prowled up to her. His mouth was wet with her juices, his eyes even darker, only a thin rim of grey visible around the deep, fathomless centre. His cock was wet at the tip, beads of clear liquid tempting Ruth to do the unthinkable and taste, as he had done with her.

  Like the wild thing she thought him, he said nothing, only growled low as he fitted his erection to her, notching it into place as if it belonged there. She reached for him, and he paused, glancing at the hand she had shoved into her mouth. He dropped a kiss on to her tooth-marked knuckles before resuming his inevitable drive into the centre of her being. Watching her, he pushed in.

  Gritting her teeth, she braced her bottom against the mattress, refusing to give way when he stretched her. Panic coursed through her, but when she shifted infinitesimally, he said, “Trust me.”

  She did. She would have to, having voluntarily put herself into this bed with him. It wasn’t that, she realised with a jolt that temporarily eased her discomfort. Instinctively she trusted him, reached for him when she needed reassurance. She didn’t even need to think about it.

  When he kissed her, the taste of herself on his tongue sent her wild. She arched up, mindlessly seeking more, his groan into her mouth only driving her to push more. When he ploughed into her, filling her, she cried out. He took her cry, muffled it for her and licked into her. When she responded, caressing his tongue with hers, he moved.

  Her world shifted perspective. He withdrew gently, and then, when she was wondering if that was it, if he’d done everything he returned, driving deep, grinding his body against hers.

  His eyes sparkled. She would not have seen him, but this high up she never closed her curtains, preferring to gaze at the moonlight and let the dawn wake her when morning came. The moon was out tonight, lovingly delineating his clear profile when he lifted his head and met her eyes. The intimacy, so close, proved too much and she swept her lashes down.

  “No, don’t do that. Look at me. I need to know how you’re feeling. I can read your eyes, sweetness, let me see them.”

  After a second’s pause, which she used to regain her confidence, she did as he asked.

  “Put your arms around me.”

  She slid her hands around his gleaming torso, spreading her fingers over his magnificence. His finely honed body twisted under her palms, as if to persuade her to do more. She caressed him, stroked up his spine to his shoulders. “You’re so—large.”

  A laugh escaped him. “Thank you. You are not.”

  The novelty of being called small struck her and she smiled. “To most I am.”

  “Not to me, and here my opinion is what matters.”

  Yes, and how much she must take care not to tell him. He affected her deep in her soul, as few other people managed. Smiling, he withdrew and thrust, burying his shaft deep inside her, until she gasped and arched up once more.

  “Dance with me.”

  Yes, she would. She did. As he thrust harder, new sensations hurtled through her, forcing her up to a plateau where nothing mattered except climbing higher. Every time he slid inside, he touched a particularly responsive part of her, just inside at the front.

  “Dance!”

  At first she didn’t understand what he was telling her. Then, as she concentrated, it came to her. He moved in a rhythm, sliding in and out of her. “I don’t dance very often.”

  “Then we’ll practice. Look at me, listen to the music in your heart, and move.”

  She did so. Horizontal dancing took her a few minutes to get used to, but then she worked, holding her body rigid when he thrust inside, relaxing when he withdrew. A simple, swaying rhythm. They swayed together, watching each other. Somehow the intensity of what she was feeling increased and spread, encompassing all of her. His body gleamed, the muscles sent into high relief by the moonlight.

  Whatever the outcome of her actions tonight, she would never, ever regret what he was bringing to her. He opened a door for her, guiding her in the simple movements until she gained confidence. When she lifted her legs and tucked her heels between his, he made a sound, choked it back. “Sweetheart, you must—come soon. You feel so damned—good I’m in danger of—losing control.” He spoke harshly in short bursts, between deep, penetrating drives.

  She was not sure what he meant.

  “Let go.” He pushed one hand between them, sliding it between their sweat-slicked bodies until he reached the place where they joined. He touched it again, that tight, hard bunch of flesh.

  Ruth went wild. If he had not kissed her, she would have screamed the house down. As it was, her cry vibrated through them both. Responding to his kiss, to his caresses, she understood what he meant with a violence that shook her to the depths of her soul.

  Her body took over, pressing against his, convulsing with spasms of uncontrollable pleasure. Marcus did not stop, but continued to work her body, inside and out, kissing her to muffle her helpless cries. Her interior passage gripped his shaft. The wetness increased, easing out of her body as his violent thrusts displaced it.

  The kiss ended messily as he tore his mouth away from hers to gulp air. His great chest heaved, and for a few seconds his full weight rested on her, knocking the breath from her body.

  Ruth rejoiced. He had lost control, and she had caused it.

  With a groan, he lifted his torso away and gazed down at her. He was smiling, his body still inside hers. “Regrets?”

  “None, ever.”

  He huffed a laugh. “I love your fervency. I will try to emulate it.”

  “I think you just did.”

  “So I did.” He took another kiss, this time lingering over her, delivering a sweet, delicate caress that ravished her senses. As if he had not done that already. “You unman me, Ruth.”

  “I
would say I did the opposite.” Her light-headedness gave her frivolity, something she would have claimed she was incapable of before tonight. She never regarded herself as the frivolous type. “You made me feel utterly female.”

  He’d taken her with a concentration that flattered her beyond anything else she could imagine. All his attention was fixed on her. “You feel completely female. Your skin is deeply attractive. Any man touching you will want you.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again. In the normal course of events, she barely came into direct contact with anyone. Here she was, skin to skin with the most breathtakingly handsome man she’d ever met in her life. He took her breath away completely.

  He had ruined her for anyone else, and she did not mean in the terms of society. She cared little about that. No, she would want nobody after this. How could any other man ever match him?

  He pressed his lips close to hers, almost, but not quite touching. “You are utterly, completely, feminine. Never doubt it.” He showed no concern for the smallness of her breasts and her lanky form. “You’re delicate, sweet and adorable.”

  Ruth nearly melted. She ached to be small, plump and better endowed, as her sisters were, but if he wanted her this way, then she would remain content. Eagerly, she lifted the scant distance between them, and kissed him.

  His shaft moved inside her, the strangest sensation. They were still locked together, so it almost became normal for Ruth. He made her aware of him. He smiled, a quick baring of his teeth. “Are you ready for the second course?”

  Astounded, she gaped at him before she found her voice. “Twice?”

  “Indeed. Why not? That is why I didn’t withdraw. It’s your first time, my lovely one, and you would become too sore if I pulled out and then tried to come back. I knew I would want you more than once.”

  “Yes,” she said faintly. Why not? If she walked with her legs apart for a week after tonight, the exercise would be worth it. When he moved, she gasped. He was hard again, probing deeply within her.