A Sinful Temptation

by Kelly Boyce

  Wanted it still.

  Wanted him.

  “Your punch, my lady.”

  Lord Selward returned from the refreshments table with a glass of sweet punch and she accepted it with a weak smile. She wished she could give him more, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her heart had riveted its attention on someone else and refused to be diverted from its course. The steadfast determination she had once used to pursue Lord Selward had vanished. Had he noticed? Could he sense her interest had waned?

  “Thank you.” She took a sip and wished it contained something stronger. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “Indeed, I am. And you?”

  “Yes, of course,” she lied. Despite the personal conversation they had shared two days earlier, he had reverted back to his usual banal topics of conversation, as if it had never happened. So far this evening, they had exhausted the topic of the weather, which of the dances was her favorite—she said the reel, though in truth it was the waltz, but she did not want to give him false hope where that was concerned. Now, it appeared, the topic of enjoyment of the festivities had run its course as well.

  She sighed.

  Would marriage to Lord Selward have been as dull as this conversation? Likely. He did not appear to have any interest in delving into deeper subjects. He behaved as if the confidences they had shared earlier had never happened. She had tried to broach it this evening, but he quickly steered her back to safer ground. Would this mean he would not back up his earlier claim that Marcus was his brother? And if he refused, what then?

  She brushed the thought away. She would not dwell on the negative. This had to work out. It simply had to. She would entertain no other outcome. Happiness was within her grasp and she had every intention of grabbing hold. It would not slip through her fingers the way it had for her mother.

  “Would you care to dance? I believe the next set is to be a reel. Your favorite.” Lord Selward asked, his even voice breaking through thoughts that had run wild.

  “Oh.” She let him take the cup of sugary liquid from her hands and set it on a nearby table. Then he held out his arm like the perfect gentleman but, as she took it, they were interrupted.

  “Lady Rebecca.”

  She turned, Lord Selward instantly forgotten. Her heart lodged in her throat and relief swept through her. He was here. He had come home. It took every ounce of will not to throw herself into Marcus’s arms. A smart move as he appeared most weary, still dressed in his travelling clothes. Regardless, he had never looked more handsome and she longed to touch him, to be sure he actually stood there and that she didn’t imagine it.

  “You came back.”

  He smiled at her, a private smile just for her, heedless of who might see it or decipher its meaning. “Of course. May I speak with you?”

  She nodded.

  Lord Selward stepped forward. “Forgive me, Mr. Bowen, but Lady Rebecca and I were just about to dance the reel.”

  Marcus said nothing, simply stood there and stared at Lord Selward, his gaze roving over the younger man’s face. Rebecca’s own bounced between the two of them, trying to find some resemblance, but came up empty despite the shared blood running through their veins.

  “I’m afraid I must insist,” Lord Selward said, though Marcus had made no move to take her away, or suggest she leave and forget her promised dance with him.

  “I believe that is the lady’s decision to make,” Marcus indicated and something opened up within her. A realization. Marcus had always treated her with respect, given her opinions equal weight as he would have Nicholas’s or Lord Ellesmere. Life with him would be a partnership in the truest sense of the word. He would listen to her views, discuss them with her, and debate them if he disagreed until they reached a compromise or understanding. She would be heard; talked to, valued for who she was.

  She turned to Lord Selward and placed a hand over his. “Forgive me, Lord Selward. But Mr. Bowen and I have an important matter to discuss. I would prefer not to put it off until later. Would you mind terribly if we postponed our dance?”

  Lord Selward’s jaw tightened and his eyes blazed, the most emotion she had seen from him save for when he told her about his father’s admission. He inclined his head toward her and reluctantly let go of her hand.

  “Certainly. I see Lady Susan has arrived. Perhaps I shall inquire if she would care to take your place.”

  The double meaning in his words were not lost on her, but she no longer cared beyond wishing better for him than to spend a lifetime with a harpy like Lady Susan. “You’re a kind man, my lord.” She hoped he understood how much she meant those words, that she wanted the best for him. He was a good man, just not the one she wanted.

  “Lady Rebecca?” Marcus offered her his arm and she took it, letting him lead her through the crowd and out of the ballroom into the hallway beyond. He leaned down and whispered into her ear. “Where can we talk?”

  “Upstairs,” she answered and pulled him toward the back stairwell used by the servants where their departure would not be noticed. She by-passed the receiving room when Marcus slowed. She wanted to speak with him in private, to have him to herself without interruption. She directed him up another set of stairs, toward the third floor then down the hallway to her bedchamber.

  “Rebecca.” His voice held a warning, a promise that if they continued on there might be no turning back. But she had no intention of turning back where he was concerned. A thrill rushed through her and she pushed open the door and led him inside, shutting it behind them. She turned, her back against the solid oak. A lamp, its wick turned low, filled the room with a subtle light that did battle with the shadows.

  He stood beyond her reach, staring at her. She wanted to say something, to go to him, but something in his eyes kept her pinned in place, her knees too weak to hold her weight. His gaze burned into her, through her. It promised wicked delights, pleasures she had yet to discover, to understand.

  “Marcus…” She whispered his name and it was all that was needed to remove the distance between. He pulled her into his arms, kissing her as if she were the very air he needed to breathe. She opened to him, allowing him to plunder her mouth, to taste and tease and torment until her body longed for the same attentions and she despised the layer of clothing keeping her from feeling him—all of him. She had no understanding of where this passion and desire came from, how long its embers had smoldered inside of her, nor did she care. They roared to life now at his touch and she did not want it to ever stop.

  “I have missed you desperately,” he said, the words scalding her skin as he kissed a trail along the curve of her neck. She threw her head back in reckless abandon, clawing at his clothing, wishing them gone.

  “I feared you would not return.”

  “I could never stay away from you.” He lifted his head, his passionate assault briefly halted as he touched her face, traced its lines as if committing them to memory. His eyes, so deeply brown, drew her in until she became lost and wished never to be found. He shook his head. “I did not discover much in the way of new information.”

  Her heart sank. She had held out such hope he would come back with the answers he needed. “What did you learn?”

  “Only that my mother was a relative of Lady Ellesmere and that I resemble her to some degree, I suppose. I do not know what happened to her after my birth. Where she went, what became of her. I do not even know her name.”

  She tightened her arms where they wrapped around his waist, pressing her body into his in an effort to offer whatever comfort she could. “I have learned something that night bring you cheer.”

  He pulled away far enough to peer down at her, his eyebrows pulled together. “What have you learned?”

  “I spoke to Lord Selward—” Marcus scowled but she pressed on. “He admitted to your relationship—that you are brothers. His father had told him to end our courtship because of our families’ close association. Lord Walkerton admitted, in a letter to Lord Selward, that he was indeed your father.
”

  “In a letter?”

  “Yes. He was away at the time and so their conversation took place through correspondence.”

  Marcus released her and took a step back as if he needed distance to absorb the information. She missed his closeness, the warmth of his body against hers. “Does he still have this letter?”

  Rebecca nodded. “I believe so. When I asked, he did not give me a direct yes or no, but indicated perhaps he had kept it. If we can get it from him—”

  Marcus gave her a dubious look. “Why would he give it up? How would that serve his best interests?”

  “How would it hurt him? He has nothing to lose by allowing you to be acknowledged. And he is a good man. I do not think he wishes you ill.”

  “Perhaps not yet, but what about when you refuse his proposal? Do you think he will look so kindly toward me then?” Something passed over his features, something unsettled. “Unless you do not plan to refuse him. Have you changed your mind in that regard?”

  “Would I be here with you now if that were the case?”

  He smiled and her heart lifted. “No.”

  Marcus held out his hand and she stepped forward, letting hers slip into his but instead of clasping it tightly, his fingers slid up her forearm until they reached the end of her glove, catching its edge and peeling it downward. She assisted him, moving in the opposite direction until the silk encasement fell away. She reached for her other glove, impatient to have it gone, and pulled it off.

  “If he has the letter,” Marcus said, reaching for the buttons of his wool jacket and relieving them of their moorings one by one. “We may have what we need to keep you from losing everything.”

  “And then we can be together.” Her breath hitched in her throat as he pulled off the coat then his waistcoat. Heat burned deep within her.

  “Would you like that?” A soft smile played about his lips. Lips that had kissed her thoroughly. What else might they do to her? She longed to discover all the pleasures he could give, and what she could provide in return.

  “Most desperately.”

  Marcus tossed his collar and cravat onto the floor. “How desperately?”

  She wanted to answer, truly she did, but he had gone and pulled his shirttails from his trousers, undone his cufflinks at the wrist and yanked the garment over his head to reveal the glistening golden skin beneath and whatever words she had been about to deliver were lost.

  Heaven above but he was a glorious specimen of man. Lean muscles rippled along his ribs and carved into the ridges of his belly. Broad shoulders and a strong chest made her think of the statues of Greek gods littered about the gardens beyond and yet that did not do him justice. For he was not carved of stone but made of sinew and bone. When he moved, as he did now, it came to life.

  He approached her and kissed her with the same desperation he had asked her to define. His hands buried into her hair until pins clattered onto the floor around her feet and the gorgeous structure Nancy had painstakingly spent an hour creating, loosened and fell about her shoulders in thick waves.

  He pulled away, his chest rising and falling against her. “God help me, but you are a glorious creature. I cannot control myself where you are concerned. You are my downfall.”

  “Is that such an awful thing?” She let her hands trace over his rib cage, reveling in the bare skin, warm and taut. What an amazing thing, to touch someone in this way. To touch him.

  His breath caught and he rested his head against hers. “I thought so once.”

  “And now?”

  He lifted his head and smiled and her toes curled within her slippers. Deep within her the ache he created, the ache only he could tend, pulled at her.

  “Now I wonder if you might not be my salvation.”

  “Truly?”

  He smiled and the gesture warmed her heart. “Indeed. I have tried every way I can think of to convince myself to let you be, to allow you a life left untouched by whatever the future brings me.”

  “And were you successful?”

  “I’m standing half-naked in your bedchamber. What do you think?”

  She laughed. “This is quite a departure for you. Are you certain you are prepared to throw caution to the wind?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  She shook her head. “If you try to leave me, I shall dog you to the ends of the earth. I shall throw myself into pools of water and make you save me until you have no choice but to throw your hands up in surrender. And when you do, I shall be so kind as to save you in return.”

  She leaned forward and kissed his neck as he had done to her, finding the pulse where it beat beneath his skin. She touched it with the tip of her tongue and it jumped in response. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her against the hard ridge of him and the ache deepened still. Throbbed.

  “I may require saving if I don’t find a way to convince you out of this infernal gown you are wearing.”

  “Infernal?” She nibbled at the sharp line of his jaw, her hands roaming over his muscled shoulders. “I thought it rather pretty.”

  “It’s quite lovely. I have no doubt every man in the ballroom was stunned into stupidity when you made your entrance.” His head fell back, allowing her better access. “But I suspect what is underneath it is nothing short of magnificent and I wish to be the only man to discover that.”

  She stepped away from him. “Do you? Well, I suppose it would only be fair of me to give you the opportunity to prove yourself correct in that regard.”

  A roguish grin made gooseflesh rise on her skin.

  “Turn around,” he commanded.

  She obeyed and his fingers worked the long line of buttons at her back, slowing as they reached the upper curve of her buttocks. There, he took his time, torturing her with his touch as it brushed lightly against her.

  “Hurry,” she urged, unable to stand it.

  “Patience.” He reached up to her shoulders and pulled the gown down to her elbows. When he released it, it rushed to the floor in a wicked whisper, leaving her exposed in a way she had never been before. She should have felt shame. She didn’t. Instead, she relished the freedom, the promise of what was to come. She wanted him in a way that defied everything she had known up until that moment.

  Inch by inch, her stays loosened until he pulled it away and dropped it on the floor. “When it comes time to re-dress you, I am not certain I will be up to the chore with all these contraptions you wear.”

  She turned to face him, wearing nothing but her linen shift, drawers and stockings. “Perhaps I will need to stay like this then.”

  He shook his head and took a step back, then another until he reached the bed and sat on its edge as if his legs would no longer hold him upright. With efficient movements, he tugged off his boots and when done, nodded at her shift. “Take it off for me.”

  A hint of embarrassment tinged her cheeks and liquid warmth pooled between her thighs where the ache had become almost unbearable. She reached for the hem of her shift and slowly lifted it, revealing her bare skin inch by inch. He disappeared from view as she pulled it over her head, but she heard his swift intake of breath as her breasts were exposed to his view.

  When the shift fell from her grip she moved to cover herself.

  “No.” He held up a hand to stop her, then turned it and motioned for her. “Come to me.”

  Marcus held his breath as she honored his request, taking tentative steps until she reached him. He took her hands and held her arms aloft when she thought to cover herself from his gaze yet again. From the soft glow of lamplight, he could see the tinge of pink heat color her cheeks and cross the expanse of skin above her glorious breasts, full and soft and inviting his touch and taste.

  He could not resist her.

  He released her hands and placed his on the curve of her hips. His thumbs teased the bone and reached inward to the dark tuft of hair at the juncture of her thighs. He longed to bend before her, worship the hidden folds, taste her essence. To give her the pleasur
e she craved and to join her in the blessed aftermath of release where possibilities were endless and no obstacle seemed insurmountable.

  He closed his eyes and relished the thought, then pushed it aside. He must go slow.

  His hands traveled across the silky skin over her rib cage, coming to rest against the soft undersides of her breasts, cupping them with a gentle touch.

  She held onto his shoulders and his muscles shifted beneath her touch.

  “You are more beautiful than I imagined.”

  “Did you imagine it often?”

  “Every day. Shall I show you what else I imagined?”

  Her fingers flexed against him. “Please.”

  He smiled and leaned forward, lifting her breast to his mouth, capturing the hardened bud and pulling it inward until she gasped and arched against him. He flicked his tongue over it and a low moan escaped her lips.

  “Do you like that?”

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered.

  “Shall I continue?”

  She nodded, her mouth pursed into a thin line.

  He pulled at the thin pink ribbon on her drawers and slid them downward, over the silk stockings until they pooled at her slippers. God help him. He had never seen a woman so beautiful and wondrous as her. She was a brilliant mixture of taut skin and soft curves, enticing secrets and an open heart. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to bury himself inside of her, discover the secrets she kept at her core, hold them within him and never leave.

  He pulled her to him and turned until she lay upon the bed, her legs bent at the knee to dangle over the edge. He brought her into a sitting position then placed her hand upon the buttons of his trousers. “Undo them.”

  She glanced up at him and dragged her bottom lip between her teeth. The tip of her tongue shot out then disappeared once again and he groaned inwardly, imagining what that tongue could do to him.

  Her nimble fingers worked against the buttons and brushed his hardened cock until he feared he might finish before she did. Once done, she grew bold and yanked his trousers and underclothing downward, but her boldness disappeared in a gasp as his erection sprung free. She sat back quickly and stared, her silvery eyes wide and glowing in the faded light.