Lady Scandal

by Larissa Lyons

  “I… I…”

  “You what? Now that I already performed to request and am no longer your obedient, sycophantic lapdog, you want me to leave? Is that it?”

  “No! Not at all. The truth of it is…is…”

  “Is what, dammit? Stop staring at the flowers and spit it out! Whatever your tongue’s tripping on. The way you’re behaving, it’s liable to poison you if you don’t.”

  Stricken eyes met his. “I…I cannot read.”

  Chapter Six

  Born to Privilege…and now Passion

  “Y-You…” Words failed him. “You cannot read?”

  In a trice, his anger drained away and Zeus found himself on the settee beside her, gathering her clenched hands into his own. “But you’re aristocracy! Married to an earl!”

  “Daughter to a viscount, but there you have it.” She manufactured a brave smile. “In my family, reading wasn’t judged a necessary accomplishment for a meager female. Unlike embroidery, speaking French, or being accomplished on the pianoforte. Music? I can read the greatest of Haydn’s symphonies, but recognizing words beyond my name? My father did not deem it of value. Nor did Lord Letheridge.”

  Somehow her fingers had turned, twined within his, both his palms cradling one of her hands. Her other, he saw, was tangled in her shift. “But you’re a lady, born to wealth and privilege.”

  “I’m a female,” she stressed, “born to accede to the dictates of men. Now laisser aller!” Let it go, she pleaded with her eyes as well as her tone.

  With a decisive squeeze, Zeus released her hand and seized the despised parchment. Flattening the creases over his thigh, he realized reading the words upon it no longer posed a burden. Instead, they provided an opportunity. A privilege. One she’d been unfairly denied.

  One he should be grateful for.

  She covered his smoothing efforts with one palm. “Nay. You do not have to finish.”

  He captured her wrist and relocated her hand to his chest—bad decision, that, but once made, one he chose not to retract. “Shhh. I now want to. In light of what you’ve shared, I need to. Now where were we?”

  “Your tongue, I believe.” She said it swiftly, pinkening all over.

  “Ah, yes. My blighted, delightful tongue.” A deep breath for courage lifted his torso and she flexed her fingers against him. The palm now splayed willingly across his chest burned a path straight to his soul.

  Groaning silently at the delicate pressure, Zeus searched for his place. “Tongue…tongue… Ah. Here we are. His tongue shall surely delight you to no end. The agility with which he employs it will curl your toes, warm your heart, and sear you everywhere in between. And his penchant for feet is equally delightful, if rather naughty. But I urge you to let his tongue have its way—in all things. The rewards will be considerable. And finally…”

  He faltered a moment when he reached the one line Marianna had composed without giggles accompanying the flourish of her quill. The one line she’d paused over, granting him a bittersweet smile of remembrance before finishing out, both writing and speaking, “Finally, I can make no greater recommendation for that of trusted friend and lover than the indomitable Zeus J. Tanner. If further details are needed, I remain… Yours, Marianna Longley, Lady Torrington.”

  “Lady?” Juliet’s hand tensed upon his skin, tweaking a couple hairs. “She’s married?”

  “Is now. Wasn’t then.”

  Thunder cracked nearby, virtually drowning out her hushed, “Do you care for her still?”

  Ahh, definitely an innocent. To exhibit jealousy over so long ago an association. And one gleaned from a reference she required!

  “As a friend and no more,” he told her sincerely, choosing to omit the details of how he’d rescued the young widow-turned-courtesan, new to plying her dubious trade, from a pair of bosky peers who thought if they had the blunt then she had no say in the matter.

  Zeus had used his substantial size and formidable fives to teach them her protests said differently. In return, the gently-bred Marianna had schooled him in manners and elocution and the ways of love from a lady’s perspective. Now he summarized those several years for Juliet. “She took me under her wing when I was new to London, imparted town bronze and instruction in the ways of women and the world. I, in turn, sheltered her for a time. Voilà tout.” That is all. “Our romantic liaison has long been extinguished and neither of us pine for its return. And they aren’t fripperies,” he added, pointing to the embroidered screen, “your masterpieces. Not at all.”

  “You know?” As though wilting in shame, her fingers attempted to slide from his chest. Catching her wrist again, Zeus resisted the impulse to direct them decidedly south, and instead kept them right where they were, snug against his torso.

  “What? That you create artistry with yarn I assume your clutch-fisted husband refused you? Aye. From what I’ve seen, along with yourself, your companion Miss Hales, and hairy Henry here…” Zeus raised one leg and pointed to his boot. The tassel swung freely, thanks to the cat’s current batting maneuvers. Giving the purring head a chin scratch, Zeus nudged Henry on his way and lowered his foot to the floor. “Your art is the only thing of value inhabiting this rickety tomb. Now I have inquiries to make of you and for every one you avoid answering, I shall remove another article of clothing.”

  “You will?” Was that excitement in her voice? Or outrage?

  “With eagerness and authority.”

  “My clothing…or yours?”

  “It shall be my choice. ’Tis time you learned who’ll be ‘lord’ in this household if you take me as husband.”

  “Very well. Proceed, Zeus J. Tanner. Wait—tell me what the ‘J’ stands in for?”

  She would have to ask that.

  After a moment’s pause, he gave his standard reply. “James. Now, how many men have you told to shed their shirts?”

  “Only one. You.” She answered promptly. Too promptly. He’d never get them both naked if this was how she intended to cooperate.

  Yet… “Pleased to hear it.” Very pleased, in fact. “And how many have you demanded reveal their mistress’s letters?”

  “You are the first I requested it of.”

  “Simply making you aware, I plan to be the last. Have you ever been kissed?” She hesitated. Rather than take advantage and start stripping her bare, because he craved hearing the answer, he encouraged, “The truth now.”

  “Not in such a manner I’d want to repeat the experience.”

  “Yet you’re willing to trade yourself for a rich husband? To, let me see if I can recall this correctly, be an amiable wife ready to bear my children? Lady,” it came out an oath, “have you any idea what that entails?”

  “I’m trying to ascertain it!” Sharp, determined nails pricked him even as her skin flamed red—every enticing, visible inch. And there were a number of them. “Have I not made it clear? I have tenants to feed. Loyal servants to remunerate!”

  “You’d relinquish your freedom for these people? People who were thrust upon you because of an unfortunate marriage?”

  “Certainly.” Said without any dithering at all, eyes focused straight ahead.

  Of course she would. The entirety of her absurd advertisement made sense now. As did the required multiple letters of reference, her skewed questioning, even her desire to see his body. “Do I correctly assume you aim to find pleasure in the marriage bed this go-round?”

  She blinked swiftly. “One can dream.”

  “How did you hurt your leg?”

  “I…” Juliet braved meeting his gaze again. Though his rapid-fire interrogation was discomfiting, the heat in his eyes gave her leave to continue. She stared back at his strong, stubborn, still striking-her-to-the-core visage. “I believe I’ve answered enough of your wretched questions!”

  “Do you now?” She’d thought his expression hot before? At her pert response, it blazed. “Did I not warn you of the penalty if you refuse to answer?”

  She stiffened her spine. The actio
n served to emphasize her modest breasts, which drew his notice, she saw with no small amount of pleasure. “You did indeed.”

  “My neckcloth,” he rasped, releasing the clamping hold he’d retained on her wrist to haul her onto his lap while taking care not to jostle her injured leg, she noted with awe. “Take it off.”

  As her hands went to one end of dangling silk, his took hold at her waist, anchoring her securely atop his muscled thighs.

  Juliet applied herself to unknotting what remained. Her fingers shook, not because the task was so very foreign but because of how he watched her, his remarkable eyes skimming over her features time and again, their daunting intensity belied by the slight smile quirking one side of his mouth.

  His smile grew just before he released his right hand from her waist to brush several stray hairs behind her ear. The job done, his fingers lingered, traced the perimeter of the shell then meandered down the side of her neck, the pads tapping against her skin in time with the smattering of raindrops that plopped into the upper windowpane and onto the ledge where the lower sash had been propped up to let in the day. Slow…unhurried…unending…

  Juliet’s breath hitched. The knot was history, as were any pesky doubts. Up close, his spicy-fresh scent was invigorating, his sensual touch and seductive scrutiny, intoxicating. Gathering one long end of silk, she leaned forward to unwind it from his neck.

  “My cue, I believe,” he whispered just before his traveling hand went to her nape and tilted her head. His lips hovered over hers. “Open for me, sweet. I would taste you now.”

  Her woman’s place clenched at his words, her pelvis convulsed forward, but Juliet had no time to question either action, not when he bent his head to claim her mouth.

  Zeus, king of the gods. He commanded her submission with no more than a single, unhurried glide of his lips across hers. Twice more he made the journey then his tongue stroked a horizontal swath across the seam of her lips. Juliet’s tongue pressed stiffly against her closed teeth.

  His mouth opened over hers, encompassed her lips and drew forth the only possible response—a whimper. Then a sigh. Abandoning the neckcloth, she turned her upper body into his and crushed her breasts to his chest, her palms flattening on the hot skin of his shoulders, fingernails digging into pliable muscle.

  His tongue licked again then he drew back and swore. Wrenching the silk free with two overhead turns of his arm, he rid his neck of the strip and tossed it aside. Snaring her eyes, he ordered, “Tell me why Miss Hales conducted the interview.”

  Heart pounding madly, she remained resolutely silent.

  “I’ll unlace your stays.” It was a glorious threat.

  “Kiss me again.” The last syllable barely spoken, his mouth returned, harder this time, with more urgency. Hot and open and beckoning hers to be the same.

  His fingers sped along her back, swiftly unlacing her corset while his tongue again quested for entry. Twisting upon his lap now, the ache he caused swirling everywhere, she granted it, parting her lips.

  Yet his tongue remained beyond. “You come to me,” he demanded. “Give yourself to me ere I go no farther.”

  Though he requested it of her—and in no uncertain terms—Juliet was aware, achingly so, how he was giving her a choice. Proceed or not. It was her decision.

  At last she’d found him! The one man above all others who met her requirements and exceeded many of them, she thought, almost purring her satisfaction as his male protuberance surged against her—Zeus.

  Eagerly she braved venturing forth, extending her tongue past his lips and into his mouth, a tiny, triumphant sigh accompanying the action.

  Immediately, their tongues met and engaged in a clash of discovery, one that echoed the fervency of his fingers frantic along her spine, deftly unthreading the laces. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and worried it with his teeth. She muffled a squeal as sensations streaked through her stomach and thighs.

  Against the sensual onslaught, Juliet gasped for air. He gave her his.

  A second passed and the pressure upon her ribs eased. Her lungs automatically expanded, taking in more of the life-giving, lust-affirming essence that was Zeus.

  Groaning deeply, he tore his mouth from hers in order to work her corset over her head, dragging the stiff boning past distended nipples that hungered for more attention, atop breasts that felt strangely expanded and heavy. “I need…need you…” Courage, Juliet. Just tell him. “To massage away these aches you’ve roused.”

  Zeus threw the contraption to the floor, taking little nips and nibbles of her chin, her neck, working his way down, more than ready to massage away her “aches”. Just as soon as he created a few more.

  “Why,” he gasped, delirious on the taste of her, on the scent of passion rising between them. Her hands were wild upon his chest, nails raking through the hair covering his torso, her unbridled enthusiasm sending riotous vibrations straight to his groin. After nuzzling the inviting curve of one breast, Zeus pulled away and framed her cheeks within his trembling grasp. “Why hide behind the screen? Why hide this lovely body…this precious face?”

  Grey eyes glinted. “That’s three I refuse…” Defying his fragile hold, she leaned forward and kissed his chest, ran her lips over one pectoral while scoring her nails across the tops of his shoulders, drawing a shudder from his body. “Refuse to answer. Three! Your breeches off. I want to see you again. Need to see you.” Her fingers went to the fall of his buckskins. “Take them off! And your drawers…”

  Zeus chuckled. To have a lady—his lady—this eager for their marriage bed… Could a man such as he ever want for anything greater?

  She scooted back on his thighs and together they wrested his shaft from confinement. At once, her spirited zeal wavered. Silvery eyes flashed from his to the bounty in her hands, and his amusement fled.

  Breathing like a stallion after a hard, sweaty ride, Zeus took in the look of wonder on her face, suffered her delicate exploration, and realized—whether this was truly her first time or not—he had a character reference to live up to. Couldn’t go blasting off like some unlicked cub.

  As you did not an hour ago?

  Damn!

  While he sought the best way to slow their sexual journey so he didn’t reach the finish line before she’d barely left the gate, Lady Juliet renewed her agonizing ministrations, lightly, reverently it seemed, fondling the length of his rod with such curiosity and care she created her own brand of torture. One designed to enrage his body while enthralling his mind.

  “Thank God I did spew earlier,” he muttered, raking his hair back so he could watch without interference, “to my everlasting shame.”

  “Hmmm? And why is that?”

  Every tentative, tormenting motion of her fingers upon his erection stole more of his typical reserve, else he wouldn’t have spoken aloud. Wouldn’t have confessed, “Or I’d be in no position to withstand your torture.”

  “My torture?” Posed as though she liked the sound of possessing such an unexpected talent. Emphasizing the torturous power she had over him, she tightened her fingers.

  “Aye. Your touch upon my cock feeds my fantasies, fires my blood.” His dirk jumped within the renewed, heartier grasp.

  “Are they always this thick?”

  “They?” He strove to block out the increasing dribbles and drips coming in from the window, spraying the back of the settee. Stinging his bare shoulders. Why did it have to start raining again so hard now? When she was caressing him in such a manner?

  “Your male protru—”

  “My cock. Aye, when aroused.”

  “Leth’s was never—”

  Thoughts of raindrops drowned in the deluge of jealous and protective urges that seized him. Her words choked off when his fingers clamped on her nape and tipped her head up until their eyes met. “Let us be clear. When you’re touching me like this, I don’t ever want to hear his name cross your lips, is that understood?”

  “Aye.” Her hold secure around his poo
r, beleaguered male protrusion, she blinked up at him. Licked her kiss-plumped lips then looked back at his crown, straining out between her fingers.

  Her mouth. Again, he craved it.

  Give her time.

  Ah, God. It had been so long since he’d had a woman, longer still since he’d yearned for a particular one, or even felt the driving need to claim her mouth, to see her consume him. His shaft disappearing into her hollowed, hallowed depths.

  Lady Scandal scandalized his innards to such a degree, his brain couldn’t tell up from down, out from in, and his bauble just wanted to blow—

  In her hand.

  In her mouth.

  Goddammit. This wasn’t like him.

  As if to punish him for his unholy thoughts about such an innocent, the sky chose that moment to further unleash its wrath, the peltering downpour emphasizing the ferocious pounding of his blood. He fisted his hands in her shift where it bunched at her thighs, striving for patience even as he swelled under her stirring attentions. Heart and cock both, lurching uncontrollably in response to this enchanting woman and her unguarded, unassuming manner.

  But there was one thing he could control—his need to see her in bed. Upon sultry, satin sheets perhaps. “Why don’t we take this interview up to your bedchamber and I’ll demonstrate—”

  “I regret we cannot.” Said so swiftly, she couldn’t have given the matter a speck of consideration.

  “Forgive me. That was too forward—”

  “No! No it wasn’t.” Her maddening clasp stroked up his shaft again. “You weren’t. ’Tis because it leaks that I said no.”

  “It leaks? Your bedchamber?”

  “The roof. After all the rains this past week, my room is soggy beyond reckoning, I’m afraid.”

  Ah. At the reminder, he did recall how her advertisement had mentioned roof leaks needing repaired. He’d have to see to that sooner rather than later. Make those silk sheets and her satin limbs a reality…