The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton

by Barbara Pierce

  Her eyes were still closed, but he could see the lingering smile on her lips. Becoming serious, he dipped his head and nuzzled the soft nest of hair between her legs, inhaling deeply the musky fragrance that filled him with such potent lust it bordered on pain. Rayne grasped his cock and rubbed the rigid length against her leg. There would be no end to his torment until he could bury himself deep within her. The thought of spilling his seed within her again was as intoxicating as any drug. Stifling the urge to groan, he journeyed lower until he could bite the tender skin of her inner thighs. Devona said something under her breath and kicked out with her left leg.

  Rayne used the movement to his advantage by shifting his position so that he was lying between her parted legs. Now on his stomach, he leaned over and kissed her right knee. The fine hairs on her legs prickled under his gentle worship as he moved up her leg. This time when he came to the soft folds of her labia, he parted them and put his mouth on her. His intention was to prepare her for him; however, she was already wet. He tasted her, his tongue flicking the tender tissue within. Devona cried out as she lifted her pelvis. Rayne cupped her buttocks, bringing her closer to him.

  “A dream,” she murmured.

  He lifted his head. “No, beloved, paradise.” In one strong movement, he pulled her under him and plunged into her. She cried out again, the surprise of their joining as intense as the wait had been for him.

  The head of his cock throbbed against the opening of her womb as the muscles of her sheath tightened around him.

  The time for leisurely love play was at an end. His patience broke from its invisible tether and the frenzied need for her flooded his system. Her eyes were locked with his and her fingers gripped his muscled forearm. Not being able to give her time to fully adjust, he set the rhythm of his thrusts at a pace that minutes later was making her breathless. She arched beneath him, as if to draw him in deeper. He groaned, biting the inner tissue of his cheek, hoping the pain would hold off his impending release.

  If he could spend his life within her, it would never be enough. Rayne felt her tense beneath him, and sensed her own pleasure would soon be upon her. His body tightened and fine tremors shook his frame as he tried to fight his body’s natural response. Gazes still locked, he pressed a hard kiss to her open mouth. His tongue penetrated her as his cock did, each giving and taking pleasure. The metallic taste of blood from the small wound in his mouth mixed with sweetness he had come to associate with her.

  She pulled away from the hard, relentless kiss and took a fortifying breath. His mouth latched onto her exposed neck and she bucked wildly beneath him. Lost in the ecstasy of her release, she writhed as if to escape him. Vigorously, he pounded his thrusts deep within her, no longer able to hold back as Devona’s soft, womanly form beckoned to him on a primitive level. Frantic, he hugged her to his chest, sinking his teeth into her shoulder. Rayne’s release was as violent as his need for her. Hot, forceful, and seemingly endless, his seed filled her.

  The disturbing dreams that had brought him to her bed were forgotten. Keeping himself inside her, he rolled onto his back so she would not be burdened with his weight. He groped for the sheet and flipped it over them, though the last thing he felt was cold.

  Devona snuggled her nose against his hairy chest. “Paradise,” she murmured.

  His hand stroked her head. “A magnificent dream. Go back to sleep.” With one hand caressing her back and the other propping up his head Rayne remained awake. If Devona had lifted her head, she would have seen the intense resolve etched on his features.

  The lover had been pacified for the moment, but the protector had surfaced in his stead. Someone was trying to hurt her. Whoever was behind this must have thought they were quite safe hiding in the shadows while plying their deadly mischief. Rayne could be equally ruthless. Mingling among the common inhabitants of London had its benefits. He would use the contacts he had to find the person responsible. And he would. Their foe either grossly underestimated the lengths to which he would go to protect his wife or knew exactly how far he would go.

  * * *

  “I cannot decide if Tipton sent you here because he is too furious to see to me himself, or if you are a peace offering.”

  Devona smiled as she tied off the stitches she had sewn into the bandages to keep them secure. Taking up her scissors, she snipped the thread. “You must forgive Tipton. He is just learning how to be a brother. I fear he overreacted when he saw you…” She paused, thinking the phrase “on top of Madeleina” sounded slightly indelicate.

  Obviously amused by her discomfort, Brogden laughed. “Embracing his sister?”

  Relieved by the substitute, she returned his grin. “He realizes now that it was an unfortunate misunderstanding of the situation.”

  “Don’t you believe it, sweet lady. Tipton knows me better than most. I should be grateful all he tried to do was take off my head.”

  Devona liked Dr. Sir Wallace Brogden. He was not much older than her husband; however, when she looked into his eyes she would have sworn he had crammed an average man’s life span into thirty-odd years of living. There was something ancient about him, a mystery that intrigued and teased like the greenish-gold flecks that twinkled at her from the brown depths of his eyes.

  “You’ve known Rayne a long time.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he answered it as if it were. “Since he was fifteen. He’s journeyed far from the lad they dragged onto the deck of the Griffin’s Claw.”

  She stopped gathering up the soiled bandages. “I thought leaving London was his choice?” She dropped the linen into a discarded bowl of soapy water.

  Brogden’s eyes widened in disbelief. “He didn’t tell you about the sorry state he had managed to get himself into?”

  “I know he was mistakenly buried alive. That his family was afraid of him after his resurrection.”

  He snorted. “I can’t confirm if it was a mistake or not, but that mother of his preferred him in the grave to having him sharing their supper.” He motioned for a pillow that had dropped onto the floor. She picked it up and stuffed it behind him. He sighed his contentment.

  “The story has circulated throughout society for years. There was some rubbish about demonic possession, but upon meeting the dowager myself, I would wager she’s had more dealings with the underworld than my husband.”

  Admiration shone on his face. “Now I see why Tipton nabbed you. For a bitty little thing, you are quite feisty.”

  Delighted and embarrassed, she brushed the compliment away with a wave of her hand. “I figured even a fifteen-year-old Rayne could tolerate only so much hysteria before he became disgusted and left.”

  “You’re right about the ‘disgusted’ part, although he had more motivation to leave than his feelings. He could leave or allow them to commit him.” Apala, deciding Devona was harmless, crept from her hiding place under the pillow. She rested on his arm, flicking her tongue over each eyeball.

  “An asylum?” she said, aghast.

  “The grandmother was against it, but she was only one voice. Young Tipton ran off as soon as he was recovered from the sickness.”

  Rayne would not appreciate the pity she felt for him. How heartless could a mother be to have run off her only surviving son so soon after burying his brother? Her grief must have induced a temporary madness. It seemed the only plausible explanation. “So he boarded a ship to seek his fortune.”

  Brogden stretched his arms. “Nothing so romantic. He hooked up with a gang of boys bent on thievery. He was so green he was caught on his first attempt. With the choice of the gallows or transportation looming, it seemed fate was steering him back into the grave he had cheated.”

  Devona nibbled her lower lip, realizing how little she really knew about her husband. The man had not been exactly forthright about his past. Of the two options, it was simple to predict which had occurred. “Where was he transported? Jamaica? Barbados?”

  Brogden rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Actually, neither.�
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  “How the devil…?”

  Enjoying her confusion, he smiled. “Devil or guardian angel? Take your pick. We know which one the ton chose. He was a lucky bastard all the same. What most folks don’t know is that a friend of his father’s interceded on young Tipton’s behalf. The man was part owner of the Griffin’s Claw and saw to it that he was on board before she sailed.”

  “Rayne has never spoken of him.” Or about any of this. Why should he? He married her as part of their devil’s bargain, not because there was love between them. Her spirits plummeted. At least he wasn’t burdened by the emotion.

  Misinterpreting her frown, Brogden explained, “The man died years ago when we were in India. He set up Tipton nicely by willing his shares of the ship to him.” Becoming concerned, he felt he needed to add, “There now, I would be worried if he spent all his time telling you tales of his past. A pretty jewel like you is meant for stolen kisses and sweet compliments. His struggles to manhood aren’t for a lady’s ears.”

  Devona grimaced, feeling as though he had just patted her on the head. There had been too many times in her life that someone had shielded her from indelicate subjects. Her stays was not the only thing holding her upright. She had a spine as well! “Dr. Brogden, if you are not comfortable discussing my husband, please say so. I can see that Rayne has lived an extraordinary life, and he bears the scars for it. You will do well to remember that pretty little jewels are, merely, hard rocks.”

  “Did I sound that condescending?”

  “Enough for me to seek out a hard rock,” she admitted, softening her threat with a smile. “I do not understand why I like you, Dr. Brogden.”

  The charming smile he bestowed upon her would have made any female’s pulse skitter. He absently rubbed his heart. “Just Brogden. Or Wallace if you like.”

  “Brogden then.” She stood to leave. “I have to see to Maddy. We have struck a bargain. She will endure one hour of household lessons if I will spend the equal amount of time improving the small gardens out back.”

  His expression turned indulgent at the mention of her sister-in-law. “You will never tame her nature. Wild creatures never adapt well to cages.” He scooped up his ugly bump-riddled pet and kissed her on the head.

  Surprised he had given Maddy more than a cursory thought, Devona nodded. “I want her to have a choice, too.”

  * * *

  Pearl was coming up from the kitchen when Devona ran into her on the stairs, her arms overflowing with soiled bandages, scissors, and a bowl of soapy water.

  The servant rushed forward. “I’ve got it.” She grabbed the bowl just before it slipped from Devona’s grasp. “You shouldn’t be tending the doctor yourself. It isn’t respectable.”

  “I have no plans to announce the news in the Times, so let it be our secret.”

  “And here I thought marriage would uncurl that wild hair of yours,” Pearl mourned. They continued down to the kitchen.

  “Do not fret, Pearl. I have His Lordship’s permission to look after Brogden. It was his instructions I was following.”

  “And why would he be trusting you to doctor his patient,” she scoffed.

  Devona wrinkled her nose while they walked under the drying herbs. “Since the patient is a physician, where is the harm? Have you seen Maddy?”

  Cook angled her head in the direction of the door behind her. “She is out back playing with a kitten.”

  Cook was a large woman in her fifties. She had raised eight children on her own, and was confident of her abilities to tell the Tiptons what she would and would not do. Instead of her igniting Rayne’s temper as Devona expected, her husband liked the brisk, straightforward woman. The fact that she could cook was favorable to all.

  “Those aren’t for me. I don’t do laundry,” she reminded them. “I was hired for cooking and that’s all I’ll do.” She continued to peel the onion in her hand.

  “Nelly has done a fine job laundering,” Devona began.

  Cook tossed the onion in a pot and picked up another. “Silly twit.”

  Hoping the comment was for the absent Nelly, Devona cleared her throat. “That may be, but these are for you.” She placed the linens on the worktable and pushed them toward her.

  The servant eyed the bundle. “You planning to eat these?”

  Pearl opened her mouth to silence the uppity cook, but Devona stilled her by touching her arm. This was Devona’s household, and she felt it was her job to maintain domestic tranquility.

  “As long as Dr. Brogden is in residence we will need your assistance. And really, they do fall under your duties,” she promised.

  Warily, Cook poked them with her knife. “What do you want me to do?”

  As she felt she was going to win this domestic battle, Devona’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Cook them, naturally.”

  Pearl was still mumbling her discord fifteen minutes later. “You should have allowed Speck to backhand her for such sass. I would have paid him a shilling to watch him do it.”

  “Truly, I never noticed this streak of violence in you, Pearl.” Devona decided she would show Maddy how to plan the menu for the week. She glanced back at her sister-in-law. She was dirty from sitting on the ground, playing with the stray kitten. Red welts from its claws marred both her hands and arms.

  “Before we start, why do you not go change your dress and wash the filth out of those scratches. You’ll end up under your brother’s medical care if they get infected.”

  Maddy appeared properly horrified. “Ah, the real threat. He would probably bleed me just to get rid of me.”

  “Madeleina!”

  Maddy brushed a kiss to her cheek. “I shall not be long.” She rushed up the stairs to her room.

  “I do not think you are the proper guardian for that impertinent child,” Pearl observed, her skepticism clear.

  Devona hugged her. “Of course I’m perfect. I know all the tricks.”

  “Beg pardon, Lady Tipton,” the approaching footman interrupted.

  “Yes?”

  “This note arrived for you.”

  Curious, she took the letter. There was nothing identifiable about the wax seal. “Who delivered it?”

  “Just a boy. No one important.” He bowed and left her staring at the letter.

  “What is it?” Pearl peered over her shoulder.

  “I am not certain. Go on to the drawing room. I will meet you there.” Devona stood frozen in the hall, the letter clasped firmly in her hand. She was being foolish and paranoid. So someone had sent her a note. It was most likely from a friend. The private assurances did not calm the whirl in her stomach.

  Taking a deep breath, she broke the wax wafer and opened the paper. Nerves made her fingers tremble. She read the letter once, then again because she could not believe the contents.

  “It’s a lie,” she whispered. It was better to believe it than to consider that every decision she had made had been based on ghastly deception.

  SEVENTEEN

  Several hours later, Rayne stood in the same spot where Devona had stood, wondering where his wife had run off to. Oily panic slid down his spine, but he ignored it. It was not as if she had disappeared to meet her lover. Something had prompted her to leave the house unescorted and he was determined to tear the house apart to find out.

  He heard Speck come up from behind. “Anything?” he asked, purposely keeping his voice even.

  “I spoke to the two footmen we hired to look after Lady Tipton. Eddy said a boy delivered a note for her.”

  Finally, he fiercely thought. “She spoke to this boy?”

  Speck’s ugly face scowled into a frightful mask. “She never saw him. One of the footmen handed her the note.”

  “The bastard got to her somehow,” Rayne growled. “And one of my men handed it to her on a silver salver.”

  “You can’t be sure on that, milord. Maybe the note was harmless. One of her friends inviting her to visit?”

  She would not disobey him. He thought he had made it
clear to her that their common enemy had gone beyond trifling mischief. “Check around. I want the boy if possible. If not, I want that note.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Satisfied Speck would carry out his orders, Rayne headed for the drawing room. Maybe she was out visiting friends. It would be like her to drop everything and rush to assist someone.

  He punched through the doors, enjoying the sound of them rebounding off the walls. Pearl, Wynne, and Maddy jumped at the intrusion. All the women appeared as if they had been crying, as if Devona were truly lost to them. Their acceptance of his silent fears only fed his fury.

  “We have no time for a social visit, Wynne.”

  His sister-in-law’s cool glare was the perfect counterpart to his heated one and just as effective. “You know very well why I am here, Tipton. Pearl sent for me the moment she was certain Devona was missing.” Wynne stood, her mask of composure faltering. She fought to keep her lips from trembling. “You said no one would be able to hurt her again. You swore she would be safe here.”

  Her words might as well have been jagged pieces of glass. They cut into him and he bled. He mentally cursed her because she was correct. She must have realized how cruel her comments seemed, or perhaps he was not up to the usual effort of concealing his emotions. Either way, the stiffness in her beautiful face lessened. The tears she had been holding back leaked down her cheeks. God, the last thing he needed was to witness Wynne giving in to despair!

  “Yell at me, Wynne. Call me an arse, ’cause I deserve it. For God’s sake and my own, don’t cry.” Awkwardly, he pulled her into his arms and allowed her to cry into his favorite dark blue coat.

  Brock burst into the room, unannounced. “Damn it, Tipton, is it true? Has Devona been kidnapped?” A look of horror came over him as he noticed Wynne crying. “Something has happened. What have you heard?”