The Art of Taming a Rake (Legendary Lovers #4)

by Nicole Jordan

  Venetia seemed surprised. “He was actually a passenger on the Zephyr?”

  “Yes. He pretended an eagerness to visit England again, and asked to accompany my parents home.”

  She frowned, deep in thought. “And all the while he bore them a tremendous hatred. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

  “Indeed,” Quinn said grimly. “Their gullibility allowed him to carry out his scheme without suspicion. The rumors were true: The yacht’s sinking was indeed sabotage. Aided by a trusted cohort, Montreux set fire to a keg of gunpowder and escaped by rowboat with the treasure.”

  Venetia raised a hand to her mouth in revulsion. “He murdered them for both greed and vengeance,” she whispered.

  “Yes. He wanted my mother’s jewels and sought revenge against my father.”

  When Venetia stared at Quinn in appalled silence, he continued. “Last night you managed to gain a partial confession from him, or we might never have learned the truth.”

  “What happened after he escaped the Zephyr?”

  “He used the treasure to stake his gaming career and rebuild his fortune. Losing the pendant to Bellamy was his first serious mistake, though, for it eventually initiated my investigation. My original letter to Montreux alarmed him. If it came out how he had regained his wealth—by stealing the de Chagny jewels—he would be ruined. Then he learned of my inquiries into the Zephyr’s fate and feared I might ferret out the cause. He would hang if his guilt could be proven.”

  “So he hired Armand Firmin to kill you.”

  “Yes. Last night Firmin confirmed much of the story in a futile attempt to save his own skin.”

  Her mouth curled in disgust. “Montreux actually boasted about his plans to murder you. And he was livid that you foiled his henchmen’s attempts three times.”

  Quinn nodded. “After that, Montreux grew desperate. And when I wrote to him a second time, asking questions about Bellamy and the Zephyr, he came to England himself to rectify the failures.”

  “Thank God he failed,” Venetia murmured. “But I am so very sorry about your family, Quinn.”

  “As am I.” Remembering the grief he’d felt as a young man, he clenched his jaw. Yet whatever sadness he now felt was overshadowed by the anger that gripped him. “My mother suffered the ultimate betrayal by a man who professed to love her.”

  After a moment, Quinn added absently, “I may still try to find the shipwreck. Montreux confirmed the general location where the Zephyr went down. Even though he will likely hang for his crimes against me, I want justice for his victims after all these years, and I would derive greater satisfaction if their murders could be acknowledged. He should pay for what he did to you as well.”

  Quinn eyed the bruises at Venetia’s throat and felt his ire rise. “I should have shot him through the heart. I am furious at myself for not figuring out sooner what he intended. When I learned he had taken you, I was terrified.”

  Venetia looked away. “I knew you would find me.”

  Her trust moved him, as did her spirit, her fearlessness. But he still couldn’t forgive himself. “I am more sorry than I can ever say for what he did to you, Venetia.”

  Venetia heard the remorse in Quinn’s voice and knew it was genuine, yet she couldn’t let herself dwell on his feelings.

  “Are you in much pain?”

  “Not much,” she lied. Her heart ached more than her body did, since her fears and doubts had only built over the past few hours. Misery twisted inside her now, knotting her stomach.

  She badly wanted Quinn to hold her, but she wouldn’t let herself ask for comfort. Not when she would only be prolonging the agony of parting. The reminder sent a fresh wave of loneliness and heartache washing through her.

  He must have noted her despair, for he leaned forward and reached out to take her hand, enfolding it in his larger one.

  She tried to pull her hand away, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Please…look at me, Venetia.”

  She obeyed unwillingly and found him searching her face. He seemed reluctant to speak, though.

  Finally, Quinn cleared his throat. “First I need to correct a grave misunderstanding. Last night when I claimed not to love you, it was a bald-faced lie. I didn’t want Montreux to know how much you meant to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of him harming you. If you had died…”

  Briefly Quinn shut his eyes before once more focusing on her intently. “I was scared witless, Venetia, but there was a moment when I could only think of the irony. I had finally found love just when I might lose you.”

  Her lungs gave a hard squeeze. When she stared at Quinn speechlessly, his mouth curled in a humorless smile.

  “Believe me, loving you was never my intent. I was determined to master my own fate and never again fall in love as I did in my callow youth. But I couldn’t help myself. From the beginning, I saw the great lengths you were willing to go to in order to protect your sister. I wanted that kind of devotion for myself, Venetia. And last night you risked your life to stop Montreux from shooting me.” He paused to let his words sink in. “That is exactly the kind of mate I want for my wife, Venetia. A woman of unquenchable spirit and courage.”

  Venetia felt herself tremble. She closed her eyes, hoping this wasn’t a dream, a sheer fantasy.

  When she opened them again, Quinn was still watching her earnestly. “I realize that you intend to return to France soon, but I don’t want you to go.”

  Still not trusting what she heard, she looked down at their clasped hands, his long, powerful fingers curling around her smaller ones. His gentle touch made her heart ache with longing, as did his next quiet declaration:

  “I know I promised you your independence. And if that is what you truly want, I will honor my word. But I want a real marriage with you, Venetia.” He hesitated once more. “If you put your heart in my hands, I swear to cherish it and keep it safe always.”

  The words bathed her in desperately needed warmth, and when she looked up again, she saw tenderness and love in Quinn’s expression, along with an anxiety she never expected to see.

  His voice dropped to a pleading murmur. “Stay with me and be my wife, Venetia. Let me be your husband.”

  Such simple words, such a powerful impact on her heart.

  In response, Venetia uttered a small sob and buried her face in her hands.

  Voicing an alarmed oath, Quinn stood and pulled down the covers, then scooped her off the bed and sat down in the chair with her on his lap. Cupping her chin, he angled her head so that he could stare into her eyes. He looked dismayed—until he saw that she was smiling through tears she hadn’t realized she was crying.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes…” She drew a shaky breath. “You just caught me by surprise.”

  His gaze lingered on her face with an endearing uncertainty. But when she started to speak, he touched his fingers to her lips. “Please, I need to finish. It’s true I wed you for honor’s sake. I expected to have a union of convenience, nothing more. I was so certain I didn’t need anyone, that I would be happy with a solitary existence if you returned to France. I thought I would be content living apart from you, leading separate lives. But my heart will never be content with anyone but you, my darling Venetia.”

  Venetia searched his face, hardly daring to acknowledge the joyous racing of her own heart. “I can’t believe you truly love me.”

  “You should believe it. I love you, Venetia, utterly and completely. And I will love you forever, until my last breath.” His thumb brushed across her wet cheek with unbearable tenderness. “The truth is, I was afraid to love but more afraid not to. It wasn’t long after our wedding before I realized that I would be the greatest fool in nature if I let you go.”

  Venetia closed her eyes, savoring this incredible moment. The pain, the sick feeling deep inside her, the fear, all had fled.

  But Quinn’s fear still seemed to linger. “I collect,” he said hoarsely, “that it all comes down to one crucial question. Could you ever love me
in return?”

  She gave a watery chuckle. “Yes, I could love you, Quinn. I do love you. More than you could ever imagine.”

  The relief in his expression was priceless. “Thank God.”

  His forehead pressed against hers. Then shifting, he sank his face into the curve of her neck and wrapped his arms around her in a fervent embrace.

  For a long moment they remained that way, with Venetia absorbing his warmth, the steady, soothing beat of his heart. His hold was so incredibly tender. She felt infinitely precious, cradled against him. His hands smoothed over her back, her arms, in an absent, hypnotic caress.

  Shortly, however, the heat seeping into her transformed into something more than comfort. She became keenly aware of the muscular hardness of his thighs beneath her, his scent, his increasing pulse rate.

  Quinn must have felt her growing tension, for he muttered another quiet oath in her ear. “I want very badly to make love to you. I want to give you the wedding night you never had. But that will have to wait until you are well enough.”

  Venetia pulled back so that she could see his face. The same longing that gripped her was reflected in his eyes. “I am well enough now,” she whispered.

  Heat suddenly shimmered between them. And yet he seemed cautious, careful. “I don’t want to hurt you ever again.”

  “You won’t. I promise.” Caught in the net of his blue gaze, Venetia held her breath.

  Drawing her face closer, Quinn kissed her with such amazing gentleness that she wanted to weep. His lips were heartbreakingly soft, as though she were a fragile thing he feared to shatter. When he finished, she took his hand and brought it to her breast.

  “Quinn, make love to me now….Please.”

  “Yes.”

  Between them desire smoldered, flared, in a shock wave of heat. Even so, he drew out his compliance. Rising slowly, he set Venetia on her feet and divested her of her nightshift, not letting her participate. Evidently he intended to provide her solace.

  She stood quietly, looking up at him as he shed his own clothes. Candlelight highlighted his hair with gold and illuminated the perfection of his nude, muscular body.

  For a moment, Quinn scrutinized her in return, visibly searching for signs of bruising and physical abuse. When finally he stepped closer, a sigh of need whispered from her. She yearned for the physical contact as he reached for her. His hands moved in a light murmur over her skin…yet they were strangely dispassionate. He meant only to comfort her, she realized. To remain detached, as if she were an invalid.

  But she needed more.

  What she needed was his passion. She needed the vital intensity of his lovemaking, the primal expression of life to chase away the threat of death.

  “Quinn, make love to me,” she repeated, half demand, half plea.

  “Hush, angel. Let me take care of you.”

  His strong fingers cupping her pale breasts, he lowered his face to hers. His kiss was a languid, intimate knowing of her mouth, one that stole her breath away.

  Her eyes misted with fresh tears at the healing quality of his kiss, but she still wanted more.

  “Please…I need you.”

  He drew her to the bed then and lay down with her, facing her. She could feel his gaze like a tangible caress, drifting over her.

  At last he pulled her into his arms and enfolded her in his powerful embrace. Venetia clung to him, absorbing the hard, warm strength of him. She could feel the feather touch of his lips on her hair, her cheek, her throat, searing her, kindling the fires of desire inside her.

  How could he be so gentle yet unleash such violent emotions in her? How could he remain so unmoved when she was burning?

  Yet he was not as composed as he seemed. When he drew back, she recognized his effort at control in the lines of his handsome face. She wanted him to lose that control, but vexingly, he took his time.

  His hand moved down between her legs, seeking and caressing. When he found the wetness there, his fingers stroked her, his touch part solace, part sensual, all magic. But she didn’t need arousing. She was already hot and aching for him. His voice was soothing, but she didn’t need him to whisper gentle, calming words. She needed him. Desperately.

  “Now Quinn…please…”

  He required no further encouragement. With her plea, he shed his stern control entirely.

  His face rigid with desire, he eased between her thighs and buried his hands in her hair. She saw his eyes, fierce with tenderness and intent as slowly he thrust until he was seated deep inside her. The raw need in his eyes was unmistakable. His gaze burning with blue fire, he lowered his head while beginning to move inside her.

  The gentle rhythmic movement of his hips was different from his urgent kisses, though. He covered her face and mouth in fiercely loving caresses while whispering beautiful, golden words of love. Her heart soaring, Venetia held on tightly, her fingers feverishly digging into his buttocks, urging him on.

  Ultimately he increased his rhythm, sinking into her swiftly, heavy and hard and deep, then withdrawing, only to plunge again. With a moan of pleasure, she responded with equal fervor, trying to melt into him as he surged with her.

  Their climax came in moments. She arched in ecstasy, and as the searing sweetness burst upon her senses in a rush of bright light, she felt his body explode inside her, felt his arms tighten fervently around her before he finally collapsed upon her, his chest heaving.

  His passion was soul-shattering, as were the pulses of life flowing between them.

  After another few heartbeats, he shifted his weight to avoid crushing her and eased to one side with a hoarse sigh.

  “You drive me wild, Venetia,” he whispered.

  She gave a faint smile of contentment. It seemed that Quinn was as shattered as she by what had happened.

  In response to her silence, his mouth found hers again. The ripples of passion faded eventually, but the soft mating of their breath continued as his lips lingered on hers.

  They lay there kissing and touching for a long time, the moment indescribably tender and pleasure-hazed. Finally Quinn left off and drew back a space, but only far enough to hold her in a protective grasp.

  Venetia opened her eyes to find him watching her earnestly, his face concerned.

  “I tell you I am fine,” she murmured, longing to reassure him.

  His face relaxed a measure, and she was gratified to think that she was consoling him. Yet she needed reassuring as well.

  “I need to hear you say it again, Quinn…how you feel about me.”

  “I love you dearly, sweet Venetia.”

  Searching his beloved face, she drank him in. He was so beautiful with his tawny hair glazed by candlelight, his gaze so blue and intent. He was so vital, so dear to her.

  “I promise we will discuss our future in the morning,” Quinn said quietly. “Tomorrow I intend to convince you to believe my vow of fidelity. But for now you should sleep.”

  “I don’t want to sleep,” Venetia replied. “I want to stay awake to be certain I am not dreaming.”

  Perhaps he understood her direst need, for his serious expression turned ardent and tender. “I wouldn’t have let you go, you know. If you had left me, I would have followed you to France and somehow persuaded you to love me. Even if it took the rest of my life.”

  She had no doubt he would have succeeded, either. If she weren’t already madly in love with him, he would have worn down her resistance with his relentless charm.

  A hint of that provocative charm entered his eyes now when he added, “I am afraid you are stuck with me, sweeting. It’s not merely legend that Wildes marry for life. It is an undisputed fact.”

  “Is it, now?”

  Amusement and affection glimmered in the blue depths of his eyes. “Yes, indeed. As Kate says, you and I were meant to be together.”

  Venetia answered in kind. “I suppose we could rub along quite tolerably.”

  “Our union will be vastly better than tolerable if I have any say in t
he matter. I intend to spend the rest of my days striving to make you happy and earning your trust.”

  Venetia reached up to touch Quinn’s mouth with her fingertips. She already was blissfully happy. As for fidelity, she believed him when he vowed he would be faithful.

  Trust was a fragile thing; she had learned that painful lesson with her first betrothed. It was sometimes frightening to trust another person with not only your life but your heart.

  But this time, with this man…with Quinn…she was more than willing to make the leap of faith.

  “You already have my trust, Quinn,” she declared as she raised her lips to his. “But I wouldn’t mind a great deal more convincing.”

  With a soft, loving laugh, he took her mouth and proceeded to fulfill her wishes.

  Quinn lay there holding a sleeping Venetia in the late morning light, acutely conscious of the moment. He’d made love to many other lovers, but he’d never before felt such a naked awareness of intimacy.

  This time was somehow different. This was his wife. The woman he had chosen to be his life’s mate.

  His hands drifted lazily over her body as he marveled at the profound change in his perspective. Last night he’d been shaken by their joining and the shattering burst of pleasure it had brought him. Yet his feelings went far beyond affection or passion.

  This was love.

  He had found his match, as if they were incomplete halves now made whole.

  Just then Venetia stirred in his arms. Looking down, Quinn found her gazing at him uncertainly.

  “I haven’t changed my mind,” he said at once. “I still love and adore you.”

  The relief on her beautiful features was unmistakable.

  She smiled shyly and raised her lips to his, and they kissed slowly and deeply, cementing the vows they had made to each other.

  When finally he broke off, Venetia glanced around her bedchamber. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly noon, I suspect.”

  She stifled a yawn. “I suppose we should rise and dress. Your family is likely waiting downstairs for us to appear.”