Rakehell's Daughters

by Gayle Eden

  Leaning over, Alex kissed him delicately, and then rose again, merely looking at him while her palm glided over the mounded muscle of his shoulder, chest and across his ribs. His skin felt good. His tawny eyes showed pleasure, no matter how he tried to shield them with half-mast lashes.

  She rested her palm just over his flat stomach, in the area of his navel. A faint black line of hair led from it to his sex, something she found sexual and arousing. But Alex was more interested in studying his face, the beauty of his eyes and mouth, thinking of how this one man both fascinated and maddened her.

  “You should talk about your father.”

  He shook his head. His hand moved so that the pad of his finger teased her nipple.

  Alex watched it, her body responding. He employed his thumb lightly pulling at the hard nipple. When she glanced at him, again he was watching her face.

  “How does your mistress, these days?”

  He rose suddenly and turned her on her stomach. He covered her from behind. “I have no idea. I let her go sometime last season.” He bit her shoulder as his knee spread her legs. “I haven’t been with her since you came to London, Alex.”

  Her body aroused by his, she murmured, “Was I asking?”

  “Yes.” There was a smile in his voice, but he slid down, the hardness of his sex obvious against her. Nipping and kissing her shoulder, he husked, “Raise your hips.”

  Alex did so, bringing her torso up and watching from over her shoulder as his hands cupped her hips and he raised a bit more, fitting his sex half way inside her.

  “Oh, my…” She sucked in a breath of pleasure.

  “I knew you’d like it this way.”

  “How could you know…? Oh—Edmund.” She groaned. He sank further and stretched over her, arms beside her shoulders. He began to ease out and in.

  As she grew wetter, groaned louder, he deepened the thrusts and firmed them. Alex raised her backside, pushing back to meet each one, until needing more freedom, she reached back and grabbed his buttock and stopped him.

  “Let me get to my knees.”

  He did not mind. In fact, Edmund helped her position her body, and on his own knees, started again. The front of his thighs brushing against the backs of hers, he held to her hips and rocked in and out of her body in long, firm, strokes.

  “Yes…yes.” She closed her eyes, absorbing him deep, feeling the build of fire in them both with each inward sink, each firm thrust. Alex panted, hearing his own breaths behind her, feeling his fingers flex, his thighs bunch. His cock glided hotly in and out, her sex seemingly famished for each inch.

  A half-hour of that and she was lost in the erotic intoxication of it. She sensed he was careful of her smaller size, but he still gave her the potent force of his sex, driving in as deep as she wanted.

  “Alex.” He growled at the point she was slamming back, grinding against him. Alex pushed him to climax, excited by his tightening breath and muscles, thrilled when she brought him over the edge.

  An hour later, Alex was under the covers, having allowed Edmund to wash them both from a pan he fetched. He held her from behind, his body nearly surrounding her and his chin on her hair. She thought he was sleeping, so steady was his breath, and she savored his heat, his scent, and the feel of his skin against her own.

  Nevertheless, Edmund was not sleeping, as he proved moments later when he adjusted and pulled her atop him. After a string of kisses, he slid down in the bed, easing her up until she was astride his face. He proceeded to drive her mad with his tongue and mouth, summoning whimpering moans and half-formed whispers before he brought her to a drawn out climax.

  Lying atop him, her head on his chest afterwards, Alex listened to his heartbeat. She murmured, “Which estate do you retire to in the summer?”

  His hands were absently rubbing her backside. “I tour them all. Meet with stewards, summer and fall, or they meet me, and I go over the books.”

  She raised her head and regarded him. “Why don’t you change the things about them that remind you of your father?”

  “You can’t alter memories.”

  “No.” She searched his gaze, seeing him trying to mask his feelings. “But you have moved on from that. You, and the duchess. In spite of these latest troubles, I think she will be all right. Father said you’d had the house secured, bars on the windows, and a bigger staff.”

  “Yes. But she’s thinking of selling it.”

  “I don’t blame her. It is hard enough for her to trust. Now she does not feel secure. But I think, given all that she’s gone through before, she’s strong enough to get through this.”

  “She is.”

  Alex pursed her lips. “Can you not give her one of the properties you own? Or would that not help with—”

  His hand skimmed up and into her hair. “Nothing changes memories, Alex. They don’t change what was,” he said again.

  Rubbing her head against his fingers, she replied, “Nothing but making better ones.”

  Edmund’s tawny gaze held hers. “I would not know….”

  “—How to start?”

  He nodded.

  “Well you already have, you and the duchess. From the time your father died, and her husband. You have many excellent memories. There’s the rest of your life.”

  He drew her head back down to his chest and she heard him say, “The future depends on things we don’t control, Alex.”

  “Perhaps. But attitude is everything.”

  He raised and rolled, so they were lying on their sides. Waiting until she pushed her hair out of her face, Edmund husked, “Will you be there?”

  “Where?”

  “In my future?”

  Alex swallowed and opened her mouth, but he cupped her head and kissed her, rolling atop her as he did so. This time his lovemaking was aggressive.

  There was no breath, no time for words. He took her, pleasured her, and seemed determined to fuse their bodies into one. It was dominating, sexually rough, at the same time no real pain could form, before the pleasure came.

  In the deeper amber shadows, he was sleek, dewy hot, the perfect male catlike animal. He left love bites in various places. His strong hands stroked and molded her with a kind of possessive greed that was explicit and carnal. Taking her at last, her hands held above her head. He was tense, quiet, save for his tight breaths. He drove himself into her repeatedly.

  When it was over, skin dewed and bodies limp, her own felt seared by him, inside and out. Still tasting him in her mouth, still feeling his sex, his hips between her legs, Alex watched him leave the bed for the bathing chamber.

  She suspected it was more to hide his emotions than to seek privacy.

  Alex bit her lip and rolled to her side, feeling him come back later and hold her. She was beginning to understand Edmund De Forrest. She was also, in love with him….

  Well, at least—this part of Edmund.

  Chapter Ten

  Alexandria was dressed in a high fashion walking suit when she visited Sonja at the hotel. Her townhouse sold rather quickly, being somewhat infamous now, some aristocrat privately purchased it—whilst Lady Melanie Billington, just as quietly—left town.

  Carrying a sunshade that matched the gold and ruby stripes in the cut away walking jacket, Alex folded it down and entered the hotel lobby, nodding briefly to the clerk before seeking out Sonja.

  Letting her in at the knock, the duchess stepped back and smiled at Alex, her approval at the fashionable get up showing before she shut the door.

  “Sherry?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Alex set the sunshade down and pulled off her gloves. She wore a smart little hat too, but did not remove it from her up swept curls. She stood eyeing the crowded streets below.

  Carrying two glasses, the duchess joined her, sipping from her own afterwards. For a while, they did that. Subsequently, Alex eyed her sister in law’s cream and black silk gown, form fitting and enhancing her coloring. Sonja had her lush black hair in regal wrapped braids, with tiny di
amond pens. She really was a striking woman.

  Sonja caught her look and moved back a bit to perch on one of the chair arms. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”

  “Edmund’s birthdate. When is it?”

  Sonja supplied, “Two weeks from now.”

  Wincing, Alex murmured to herself, “That doesn’t give me much time.”

  “Time for what, Alex?”

  “My idea. My plan.” Alex shrugged, not sure herself. “My attempt to give Edmund something he won’t give himself.”

  “Is this about our parents, our past….”

  Looking at the traffic again, Alex murmured, “It’s complicated. He—is complicated. Edmund answers all questions with the same words—you cannot change memories.”

  After a thoughtful moment, the duchess asked, “Tell me, Alex… what sort of marriage do you and my brother have?”

  “What do you mean?” Alex glanced at her.

  The duchess’s brow rose. “What everyone else would mean were they to ask you. In public, you two are perfect together.”

  “That’s more important to Edmund than to me.”

  “In private?”

  Alex shrugged. “We struggle. It is not the passion, you know, for it is there, if we are touching or not. However, it is only in passion that Edmund lets himself go. Afterwards, he pulls away and into himself again. I am a person who feels things, whether resentment at the way this marriage occurred, or passion too. I sometimes resent Edmund for his control, even if I understand why he does it. Even if I know there's another side to him.”

  After a moment, Sonja nodded. “I suppose, my real question is, do you care enough for Edmund to make what you want and need out of this marriage?”

  “Did you ask that of him?”

  Alex took a drink and turned, walking aimless through the room, ending up by the unlit fireplace. “I’m sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder with a stiff smile. Then turning back, she stared at the cold grate and explained, “It goes against my pride to have to work at making someone admit they care for me. That is not the only reason why I want to do this thing, for Edmund—give him somewhere to retreat to away from this—faux world. However, it is not easy for me to be the one doing anything for the relationship. That sounds confusing likely.”

  “Not at all. You are an independent woman. You should expect the man who wants you to try to win you, to make concessions, to you. And, not the other way around.”

  Alex finished the drink and set the glass on the mantle. “I’ve gone along with what he expected me to be, here in London. However, it is not me. Not even here. It’s not me.”

  “I know that. He knows that, too.”

  Alex turned and regarded her. “I must ask him to give me back my inheritance. How do you think he will take that?”

  Sonja smiled. “You may be surprised what Edmund would give you, Alex.”

  Looking skeptical Alex said, “Lust and desire doesn’t sway him.”

  Sonja’s brown eyes rested on hers. “That is true. He would not marry for it. It would have to be something much deeper.”

  “Edmund wed me to save his reputation.”

  “My God.” The duchess looked down at her glass, raised it, and then muttered when she drank, “I don’t know which of you is blinder.”

  However, before Alex could comment on that, they were discussing how Alex would carry off her plan of being gone long enough to accomplish it. Alex’s plan called for her to absent her newly wedded husband, and although her father and sisters knew, she had their promise of discretion and Van Wyc’s help, she had gotten a taste of Edmund’s putting his foot down, when he carried her across the border, and more so in these weeks in London. He could be awfully arrogant and insistent.

  Finally, the Lady said, “He will be busy catching up on work after this flurry of social rounds, so you could simply say you wish to take a personal retreat. That is quite fashionable, at the moment. You say that Val is going with you?”

  “Yes,” she offered. “Although I think Val is running from something altogether different, because normally, she would just go to Hawksmoor.”

  “Yes. She seems distracted of late. But tells me it is nothing.”

  “While we are on the subject, will you not accept father’s invite to go there, in the off season? I would feel less guilty about not being there. And he really does wish to know you better.”

  Sonja’s cheeks actually flushed.

  Alex laughed. “I recognize he is quite the rake. Or was. Nevertheless, Jo and Val will be there and I am sure others. There is really nothing like Hawksmoor.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Please do.” Alex collected her parasol and gloves. “I’ll let you know how it goes with Edmund.”

  Walking her to the door, the duchess murmured, “It is quite a wonderful thing to do, Alex.”

  It was Alex’s turn to flush but she said pulling on her gloves. “Well I too have no desire to spend my off seasons with formal servants and dressing every night for dinner.”

  Nevertheless, later, in the coach, Alex had to admit to herself that she was doing it purely for Edmund. Perhaps deep down it was a test of sorts, to see for herself if Edmund could really be the intimate man she would rather be wed to.

  Looking out the window, she mused on his avoiding her bed since that night he seemed to lose control of himself. At first, she thought he was merely being considerate, thinking perhaps she needed some recovery. She realized soon after, that it was Edmund protecting his emotions, pulling into himself. In the current atmosphere, they could not even be friends, let alone lovers. Alex would not spend her life with a man she could not talk and laugh, enjoy herself with. She simply could not live, and thrive—have children, like that.

  * * * *

  The Marquis watched Edmund stare broodingly out of the coffeehouse window. He might have been amused, had he not known both his daughter and now his son in law, so well. Things ingrained in Edmund were there instinctively. Being new to marriage, it was not so easy to form that whole, out of two very different halves.

  His palms around his own cup, Alexander said, “Passion doesn’t make marriage, Edmund. If it did, I would have wed a dozen times over.”

  When the earl turned those tawny eyes on him, Alexander added, “I am not a fool. I know you would not have wed my daughter had you not wanted her beyond reason. Nothing could force the Earl of Sotherton to do what he did not want. Moreover, you realized before you took advantage of circumstances, to get what you wanted, what a strong willed and independent woman Alex is.

  There is no question of the attraction, at least not to any of us close to you both. However, marriage affords the intimacy to build bonds of friendship and closeness, to know each other well. It is effort, Edmund.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you?” The Marquis smiled slightly and sat back, regarding him. “Trust is the bridge neither you nor Alex has yet crossed.”

  Edmund simply stared at him and then looked away.

  “Do you know, that half the reason I like you, Edmund, is that you are a man of cool control. That serves us very well in society and in politics. It makes us better at the risks we take, because we do not lose our heads. That is not our personal lives. Once you are betrayed or hurt, it is very difficult to trust. You try to control things that you know in your gut, you cannot. All that you can do is trust why you allowed someone in your private life in the first place.”

  The Marquis confessed, “I learned all of this the hard way, Edmund. Each of my daughters tested me, in their own way.”

  Edmund took a sip from his cup and then sat back, shoving a hand through his raven hair. He regarded the Marquis silently for several moments. “And that is why you continued to let them live unconventional lives, because you trusted them?”

  “I do.”

  Edmund murmured, “No one who knows me would have paired me with Alexandria. Not even myself.”

  The Marquis white smile flashed before he
glanced out the window. “Alex obviously went after you years ago for her own reasons.”

  “You have no idea,” he heard Edmund mutter.

  Chuckling, the Marquis turned those knowing eyes on him. “I would actually, Edmund. She is, after all, my daughter.”

  * * * *

  Edmund came close to blushing, an appalling realization, but it was deuced difficult to sit across from Alex’s father, with memories of his aggressively carnal taking of her still fresh in his mind. Not only that, Edmund had never had a mistress who was as uninhibited as Alex. His Countess reveled in her sensual side, and made him lose complete control. It was one of the reasons he was completely off balance.

  He was aware Alex disliked his Earl of Sotherton persona, and was angry with him for his high handedness—yet, she denied neither of them passion. Moreover, he was aware he wed her, making her his Countess those first weeks with full knowledge Alex was nothing like him. Even if the circles he moved in were much higher than she’d previously joined. Yet—he did not wish to change her free and independent spirit.

  He said finally, “I am aware that she doesn’t enjoy her public role as Countess. Or, I should say, as Sotherton’s Countess. But my reasons for nurturing the rep I have, serve us both well.”

  “No doubt.” The Marquis nodded. “That is something only you can help her understand.”

  When they stood to leave, the Marquis supplied, “My daughters are intelligent women, Sotherton. They are passionate in their own ways, but expect to be considered equal. Alex will demand that, no matter how she appears to be giving in to your dictates. Do not—dictate. It’s the first lesson I learned as a father.”

  * * * *

  Long after Edmund left the Marquis, he arrived home, having no plans to go out, but to catch up on long neglected work in his study. He was about that, in his shirtsleeves, his hair much finger mussed, when a knock sounded on the study door.

  Having assumed that Alex would go out with her family, he was surprised when she entered at his command.

  She was not dressed to go out either, but wore a cream skirt, half boots, and lace blouse, her curly hair tied back. All of her, looking casually attractive enough to stir him, in spite of his distracted mood.