Lord of Sin

by Madeline Hunter

  She placed her hand in his, and laid all her sorrow at his feet.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  He led her down the little stone path, and into the house. Her spirit had lifted, but not as much as he expected. Something still shadowed her. It created a peculiar serenity in her, and a palpable vulnerability.

  This was a side of Bride he had not seen. He did not hand a Boudicca up the stairs, but a woman who had laid down her armor and needed shielding. It flattered him beyond words that she trusted him enough to stay, if her admissions had sapped her strength.

  He sat on the bed and pulled her in front of him. She made no attempt to help, but allowed him to turn her around and unfasten her dress and petticoats. They fell to her feet, and she stepped out.

  “You still seem troubled, Bride.”

  She picked up the garments and walked over to a chair. She laid the garments on it, then came back to him.

  “Anne left us yesterday. She returned to Scotland with Jamie and Roger MacKay.”

  He drew her into his arms. “That explains your melancholy. I am sure she will be safe on the journey with them. When you learn where she settles, tell me and I will see that she is protected.”

  A crooked smile broke on her face. “We continue to create more trouble for you. The responsibilities attached to that deathbed promise keep growing, don’t they? Your uncle handed you a devil’s bargain.”

  “I am not fond of responsibilities, promises, or trouble, but I have ceased to think of your family in those terms. If not for that promise, I would never have met you.” He pulled the lace to release the knot on her stays. “So, there have been compensations.”

  She laughed. The sound was lovely, but he still sensed a depth to her mood. It created an intense connection between them. That bond had existed before, overwhelming him during the throes of their passion, but rarely like this, rawly present prior to lovemaking.

  He had spent his life retreating from the kind of obligations created by comforting the sadness he felt in her. His instincts wanted to do so again.

  He knew how to. He had mastered the looks and words and well-timed jokes that gently said Do not expect too much. Do not misunderstand.

  He possessed neither the heart nor the will to force a change in the mood now, however. He sensed that if he did, only he would return to shallow water. Bride would be left alone to fend for herself.

  He lifted her leg and propped her foot on the bed. He rolled down a stocking. “You expected me not only to break with you today, but to be angry. I am impressed with myself for having surprised you.”

  “Perhaps you surprised yourself more than me.”

  He dealt with the other stocking, thinking such comments were the price of not retreating. He did not mind comforting her as she accommodated whatever confused or saddened her, but that did not mean he welcomed discussions about himself.

  She stood between his knees as he finished undressing her. He took his time, enjoying the slow emergence of her body. Finally she was naked, and so lovely in the low sun’s light that his breath caught.

  He slowly caressed his palm along her hip. “You are very beautiful, Bride. It still astonishes me when I see you.” And it did, much more than it should.

  “You are quite beautiful yourself. Also most remarkable, and unique. You are also not nearly as bad as people say.”

  “I am very bad. I am also outrageous and dangerous. If I have a weakness for you, do not make me into a dullard because of it.”

  “There is nothing dull about being kind and generous. In fact, in a man it is most extraordinary.”

  “Promise you will not describe me like that to anyone. I will be ruined if you do.”

  “I promise. I also know that there are limits to any person’s generosity. I will never hold it against you when you reach yours.”

  He had no idea what she meant by that, and at the moment he did not care. His mind had turned to other things, such as the beautiful warmth in her eyes. He was sure that if he gazed in them long enough, he would see every secret hiding in her heart.

  He looked at the rest of her, marveling anew at how he found her body so aesthetic and erotic. He doubted the same body with a different woman inside would fascinate him as much. Nor would he feel as possessive. There was a rightness to their lovemaking that he could not explain away.

  She was thoroughly feminine, almost voluptuous, but a firm tension in her limbs and shoulders spoke of action instead of indulgence. Her high, full breasts firmed under his gaze, and their dark rose nipples hardened to the protruding tips that were so sensitive to his tongue. The faintest pink rose on her face, and her eyes showed the lights of arousal.

  Hands on her waist, he drew her closer and kissed the valley between her breasts. “What do you want, Bride?”

  Her fingers stroked through his hair and she held his head nestled to her. She kissed his crown. “Only you. I have no other ambitions today, and no need for novelty. I only want to hold you in joy for an hour before we return to the lives and worlds waiting for us.”

  Separate lives, her quiet tone said. Different worlds. He suddenly understood her mood.

  It was not sorrow over Anne that made her so subdued. He had not won the little argument in the garden the way he had thought.

  She would not end this. He would not permit that. Later he would explain again why that was unnecessary. For now he would convince her with other than words.

  He kissed her to begin doing so, but his confidence wavered with the passionate connection. It was as if some of her sadness leaked into him during that kiss. His desire became tinged by a fear that he might lose her.

  Fury split his head, unaccountable and unexpected in its intensity. He cupped her face in his hands and looked her in the eyes. “You are mine.”

  His vehemence startled her. “In this cottage, in this bed, I am totally yours. I daresay that today I am incapable of keeping even a portion for myself.” She loosened his neckwear with sinuous fingers. “Now, get undressed, and take me to that place you promised. I badly need to go there.”

  He was more interested in branding her with his mouth and hands than in undressing. She loosened his garments while he grasped her bottom and held her body to kisses he pressed on her soft skin. When she had stripped off his shirt and he had cast off the rest, he moved back and lifted her to join him.

  She climbed on the bed and straddled his lap, her knees flanking his hips, facing him. Entwined in elegant, caressing embraces, they shared long, savoring kisses.

  He swam in a luxurious arousal, one drenched with sentiment. It built slowly, but violent passion waited at its edge.

  Bride succumbed first. He sensed the change before she expressed it. Suddenly she kissed him as if she tried to release a desperate need.

  She pushed him down. Legs still flanking him, weight propped on her hands and knees, she made love to him and permitted almost no reciprocation. Calmly, then almost savagely, her mouth moved over his neck and chest while she tortured him with a flicking tongue and erotic bites.

  It was a stunningly effective seduction. Desire made him burn. He reached between their bodies to caress her breast. His other hand moved lower.

  She pressed her hands and weight on his upper arms, stopping him. “Do not. If you touch me it will end too soon. You asked what I wanted and I want to taste and touch you for a while.”

  Her hair poured over his face as her kisses moved to his ear and neck, then brushed his skin like a cascade of silk as her mouth moved lower. She kept her hands near his elbows, as if holding him down.

  He closed his eyes so he would feel every detail of her passionate assault. Every gentle kiss and sinuous lick and provocative nip. His consciousness constricted until only pleasure existed. Her mouth made soundless notes that reverberated in his blood.

  She released him and rose up, sitting back on his thighs. She looked down with eyes transformed by passion, glistening with deep lights. Her hair was half undone, a
nd a glorious unruly cascade of curls hung over one shoulder. She looked so astonishing in the gathering shadows, all ivory and bronze and womanly and strong.

  Mine. The possessive declaration repeated in his head. He had never been jealous about other women, but if another man dared touch Bride, he would want to kill him.

  He reached for her. “Come here.”

  She subtly shook her head. Her gaze drifted down his body. She looked at him as if her eyes sought to absorb his essence. As if she branded her memory with his form, just as she had done so with his taste. The sadness he had sensed earlier poured out of her.

  Her sight came to rest near her knees, on his erection. Deliberately, almost curiously, she ran a single fingertip from its base to its tip.

  Hunger ripped in him. Her finger circled, and shards of desire assaulted his body. Her fingers fluttered more completely, then stroked.

  She kept watching her hand move. He gritted his teeth so the urges would not defeat him too soon. Her caresses were devastating, however.

  Her lips parted slightly. He silently begged. When her head finally dipped, he almost groaned. With the first moist touch of her lips he was dying. He found a place in his passion that offered a slim edge of control and anchored himself there.

  She swung her leg and knelt so both knees pressed against his hip. He could touch her now, finally, but not the way he wanted. Not the way his rights demanded. Nor did he want her servicing him like this, no matter why she chose to do so.

  He reached out and grabbed pillows and shoved them beneath his head and shoulders. He caressed around her hip. “Turn.”

  He moved her so that her knees flanked him again, only she faced the other way this time. He settled her so her mouth could reach him, and he could pleasure her as well. A shudder trembled through her when he caressed the soft folds of flesh mere inches from his face, shadowed below the erotic swells of her buttocks. Her back arched down and she opened more.

  The warm velvet of her mouth absorbed and caressed him. The scent and taste of her musky sweetness maddened him more. The pleasure became almost unbearable. Edgy and ruthless now, his desire pounded through his whole body. He battled to contain the driving impulse building in him.

  She suddenly turned, urgently rearranging herself so she embraced him. He clutched her trembling body to his chest. Her heart beat against his, slowly calming.

  She nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “I am sorry I did not . . . It is just I want to hold you and . . .”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Do you mean like this?”

  She nodded. The day’s intimacy made the silence pulse. Despite their stillness, the passion still crackled between them, like a tempest waiting to break again.

  She pushed up. “Like that, and like this.” She took him into herself, then leaned forward for a kiss. Her hips rocked and she repeatedly drew him in and released him.

  The sensation instantly renewed all the hard needs raking his body. So did her breath on his face and chest, and her body under his hands. He eased her up and forward so he could lick her nipples. Her hips circled seductively in response, and her passage flexed to grasp him.

  He sucked gently, then more aggressively. Her soft cries of pleasure floated in the sensual daze engulfing him. His mouth caused shudders that streamed down to where they were joined. Her sounds turned frantic and her moves insistent and demanding.

  He finally allowed his hunger free rein. With one arm binding her to his chest and the other pressing her hips to his, he thrust deeply and hard until her screams of completion filled the evening silence.

  “I must go to Scotland soon. I would like you to come with me.”

  Bride did not move when his words flowed into her stupor. She remained atop him, surrounded by his strong arms, pressed to his body in a delicious daze of comfort.

  Her heart had opened completely during their passion. The emotion that had poured out had been beautiful and peaceful despite the pain it would eventually bring.

  “Why do you need to go to Scotland?”

  “Lyndale’s seat is there. I have to attend to some matters that I have been delaying. I should have gone long ago, but government affairs preoccupied me. As did you.”

  A sword of fear pierced her bliss. The world crowded in at once, returning her to earth from the cloud on which she floated. She kissed him, trying to cling to the remnants of perfection as they flowed from her grasp.

  “Government affairs? I thought you avoided such things. I was of the impression you do not even attend Parliament’s sessions.”

  “I was caught by duty despite my best efforts to remain useless. I expect the obligations to be over soon, however. A day or two at most remain to resolve the inquiries I am undertaking, I think. We can journey to Scotland next week.”

  She rose up on her forearms so she could see his face. “Inquiries? Are you engaged in an investigation?”

  His expression dismissed the matter as so much intrusive nonsense. “Of a sort. A small investigation for the Treasury. Now, will you come with me? I wish I could lure you with a grand manor dripping with luxury, but I regret to say it is an old castle, drafty and cold. We can keep each other warm, however, so it will be tolerable.”

  “You are only inviting me so you will have a warm bed.”

  “Absolutely.” He rolled her onto her back, and rose on his arm. His gaze followed his hand as it slowly smoothed down her body. “So you will have one, too. We are a good match in many ways, especially in bed.”

  “You have known better, I am sure.”

  He did not respond with a witty retort as she expected. Instead he only continued watching his hand move.

  “Perhaps. There is a difference, however. And I find you are my match in other ways. My conviction that you will suit me has not wavered. I now also think that I suit you.” He lowered and kissed her. “You do not always have to be strong with me, Bride. What a burden that must be for you, having to be strong all the time.”

  His words touched her. It was a burden. Before she met him, the duties had been taking a toll. It was not the day-to-day living of them that made her stoop, but the vision of the years coming without reprieve.

  Now for a few weeks she had known joy again. Even with disaster nipping at her heels, she had enjoyed lighthearted respites.

  She laid her palm on his face. “You are so sure we will suit, but in truth you do not know me well.”

  “I know you very well.” His head dipped and he kissed the soft side of her breast, and then its tip. It tightened as the thrill shivered through her. “I know you are passionate, and that you do not dissemble. I know you are proud, and more than a little stubborn.” Another kiss accompanied each declaration. “I know you are good-hearted, and that you sacrificed your youth for your family. And I know that beneath the strength you are very, very soft.”

  His tongue started a wonderful torture, flicking and laving. Seducing.

  “I am also of a jealous nature,” she said. “In that way at least, I would not suit you at all. There would be scenes that you would find very tedious.”

  His attention remained on arousing her, but devilish humor glinted in his eyes. “How big would the scenes be?”

  “Enormous.”

  “Thank God. I cannot bear middling sorts of scenes. If you are going to have a scene, let hell fly, is what I say.”

  She had to laugh. “Oh, hell would fly, sir.”

  “Then you would suit me in that, as well. After you are done, we will reconcile.”

  “I may not be amenable.”

  He gently rubbed her other nipple, and the titillation became maddening. “It will be for me to cajole you. If I have been bad, I will beg your forgiveness as best I can.” His teeth gently bit, making her breath catch. He smiled slowly as he kissed the tip again. “The way I see it, you cannot be upbraiding me while you are screaming with pleasure.”

  She accepted the pleasure. It was so bound with her love now that she did not know how to refuse.
She stretched her fingers into his hair. “Were you truly certain that I had not printed my father’s forged plates?”

  “Mostly certain.”

  “Did you never plan to ask me if I had?”

  His mouth paused its seduction. He appeared to contemplate the question. “I do not think so. It would be rude to ask my lover if she was a forger, don’t you think?”

  “What if I had used those plates? What would you have done?”

  “I would have told you never to use them again.”

  “Even if I had printed and sold your ‘I Modi’?”

  “In that case, I would have spanked you soundly, then told you never to use them again.” He tapped her nose. “They are a kind of toy, Bride. A dilettante’s hobby. I hope my pride is not so high that I would discard a friend over them.”

  Her throat burned. She did not deserve the trust he had shown. He had been generous about the Renaissance plates, but when his investigation was concluded, the limits of his kindness would be breached.

  Soon. Mere days, he said.

  He returned to the slow tantalization of her body. She released her hold on control and let pleasure and love conquer her fears one more time. One last time.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I wish you would let me come with you,” Joan said.

  Bride tucked the shirt into her breeches, then sat to pull on low boots. “If I am discovered, your presence would not make a difference, except you, too, would get caught. Hopefully I will enter and leave quickly and no one will be the wiser.”

  “And if someone is wise to you?”

  Bride paused with a kerchief in her hands. Someone will be wise to me soon, anyway. If I am caught tonight, perhaps it is for the best.

  She had thought long and hard since leaving Lyndale this evening. She was very sure that time was running out. There was the smallest chance, however, that she would be able to trace those plates before doom struck.