by Gaelen Foley
“Liar,” she whispered with a smile.
He coddled her with a playful growl. “What’s this, does my curious girl want a naughty story?”
“Not fair!” she huffed, pouting at him. “You know how I lost mine.”
He paused and stared pensively at her. “Well, if ever I should tell anyone, I suppose it should be you—considering.” He brushed her hair behind her ear and took her into his arms again.
“You never told anyone?”
“Of course not, cherie. A gentleman never does—not when it matters, anyway. It’s just . . .” His voice trailed off. She could feel the subtle tensing of his big body. “You don’t really want to know this.”
“Yes, I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, for one thing, because I was a good deal younger than you are now.” He stared up at the ceiling.
“How young?”
He closed his eyes. “Too young,” he said.
“What of the girl? Was she young, too?”
“Who said anything about a girl?” he drawled.
Her eyes shot wide open. She sat up and turned to him in astonishment.
He laughed at her stunned look. “What, did you think I meant a boy? Nothing like that,” he taunted in a silky tone. “No, it was a lady. A grown-up. A countess, actually.”
Alec sighed and folded his arms behind his head with a show of idleness, but she sensed the same edge creeping back into his voice as when he had talked about his mother. “If you really want to know, I went home from Eton on holiday with a group of my schoolmates a million years ago. Half a dozen of us were invited to the country house of one of the lads in—well, it doesn’t matter where. I was fifteen. It was miserable weather, so we all decided to play war indoors—with slingshots, of course. Boys enjoy causing each other maximum pain.”
“Naturally.”
“In the course of hunting the enemy through the family’s wing, I wandered—rather unobservantly, I’m afraid—into Her Ladyship’s bedchamber.”
“Her Ladyship?”
“My friend’s, ah, mother.”
Becky’s eyes widened farther.
“Beautiful woman. Twice my age and then some. I had, admittedly, been fascinated by her from the moment I set foot in the house. She smelled like flowers. Well, no one was in the room. The servants had given up trying to mind us. Given the chance, I lost interest in war immediately and seized the opportunity to investigate the domain of this ravishing, alien creature. I had found her dresser drawer full of silky, lacy underclothes when I suddenly heard someone coming. Adult voices. Ladies. I panicked. The voices came closer; the way out was blocked. Then I spied a big old wardrobe and I climbed right into it.”
“Good Lord, Alec.”
“That’s when she came into the room. The countess, I mean.” He shook his head. “I was trapped inside her wardrobe—but, Lord, what a view. I could hardly breathe as I watched her maid undressing her.” Alec smiled, his expression remote. “It’s still imprinted on my mind. She meant to take a nap before supper, but when her maid left, she lay on her bed, and she began to stroke herself. You asked,” he said in a cool and reasonable tone at Becky’s small cough of shock. “Shall I stop? I’ve shocked you. You do not wish to hear the rest—”
“No, it’s all right,” she forced out, struggling for equilibrium. “Go on.”
“She must have heard me panting because she left off her solo pleasures and came over and opened the wardrobe door. Whereupon I tumbled out on my head.”
“Oh—dear.”
“I looked up at her and thought I was done for. Thought I’d be horsewhipped by her husband and sent home in shame to Robert, who would undoubtedly lecture me for a fortnight, but that was not what happened. No,” he said slowly, “instead, she gave me a smile that turned my bones to jelly. She saw that I was hard, and she invited me to touch her.”
Shocked to the core, Becky cleared her throat. “That was very wicked of her.”
“Very.” He shrugged. “I was still sprawled on the floor when she stepped across my body and touched my cheek, guiding my mouth to her mound.” Alec cupped this location now on Becky through her skirts, his hard stare challenging her to stop him.
She held perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. His touch between her legs was warm, but the look in his eyes was cold, distant—as though this were some sort of test. As though he intended to tell her the very worst thing he could think of about himself to see if she ran away screaming.
Becky had no intention of letting him drive her away.
He had stood his ground to save her from the Cossacks, and if Alec’s own demons were of the internal sort, she would stay by his side and take them on as boldly as he had fought her cousin’s warriors.
Maybe then he’d see that not all females were like his selfish mother and the scandalous woman he was describing, and all the others, whoever they were, who had taught him to believe that love was some exquisite form of cruelty.
She ignored his claiming hand on her body, refusing to be rattled. “What did she do to you, sweetheart?”
Tell me how she hurt you.
“She clutched my head. She pulled me against her. Barely let me up for air.” He faltered a little, seeing now, perhaps, that she had no intention of being scared off. “She made me kiss it. I . . . I did as she told me.” His gaze sank, veiled behind dusky lashes. “Eventually, she went and locked the door. After I had made her come a few times, she let me enter her.” He withdrew his possessive touch from between her thighs, then passed a hard, searching glance over her face, reading her reaction to his little tale.
Becky was tongue-tied, shaken, and a bit sorry she had asked, though she refused to let it show.
“I revile you,” he said casually.
She shook her head. “No.” She swallowed hard, hurting for him. “You’re not the one to blame. All boys are curious at that age.”
“Aye. Some more than others.”
“Were you afraid of what was happening?”
“Yes. A little.”
“What else were you feeling?” she whispered.
He shrugged, looking taken aback by the question. “I’ve no idea.” He edged away from her a bit. “Can’t recall. It was a long time ago.”
Excuses.
“Lonely? Confused?” she prompted very gently. “You had lost your mother just the year before. Maybe all you really wanted that day was a little attention.”
“Well, I certainly got that.” He looked away.
“Come here, darling,” She reached out to wrap her arms loosely around his shoulders. He resisted, his muscles tensing, but he did not brush her off. She stroked his clean-shaven cheek. “I’m so sorry, Alec.”
“Sorry?” His low laugh rang hollow. “Why?”
“You know why.” She kissed his cheek and then leaned her forehead against the hard line of his jaw. “That woman took advantage of your innocence.”
“So?” He swallowed hard. “What happened to me is a boy’s wet dream.”
Becky shook her head, petting him with tender solace. “Maybe so, but you were still hurting. She should have left you alone, and you know it.”
He pulled away. “Who cares.”
“I do,” Becky whispered.
Alec flinched at her soft answer. His heart was pounding thunderously. He was not quite sure what was happening to him. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared down numbly at his hands, suddenly concerned he had said too much. He felt horribly exposed and like he very much needed to get back in control. He only knew one way to do that.
“Come to me, sweeting,” Becky murmured, lying back on the pure white bed, innocent-eyed. She held out her arms to welcome him, offering solace, kindness, he knew not what.
He stared at her for a long, searing moment, his pulse slamming in his arteries as he tried to decide if what she offered was heaven or hell.
She waited, so bravely willing to be hurt.
He went to her, and when he eased atop her, cl
aiming her mouth in a bold, hot kiss that was almost rough, Alec already knew what he wanted.
She tried to stop him, tried to turn her face away to temper his sudden desperate need, but he blocked her escape, his kiss all the more insistent. Curling her hands around his shoulders, she briefly managed to dislodge him, but Alec was on fire.
“I want you,” he growled, holding her down with his weight.
“You said we couldn’t.”
“I lied.”
“Why are you doing this?” she whimpered in bewilderment. “Alec, hurting me won’t change the past.”
Her words eased some of the darkness from him. He stroked her thick sable hair, pushing it back from her face with his palm. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised, kissing the corner of her plump, rosy mouth. “Not at all, my baby. Not at all.”
“Alec, please, I know you’re in pain.” She tried to hold him. He wouldn’t let her. “I only want to help you, to comfort you, sweetheart—”
“Then let me make you come,” he whispered in a tone that even he knew sounded remote, maybe even frightening to a trusting young girl.
Becky searched his face in confusion. “What?”
“Shh,” he answered, and then he stopped her words with a kiss. He tasted her in longing need, dizzying them both with the moist, silken glide of mouth on mouth.
Meanwhile, he soothed her with one wandering hand, laying claim to his territory all over again—rolling hills, lush valleys, fertile plains. She only quite realized what he was about when his fingers plucked at one ribbon garter beneath her skirts, skimming a velvet stretch of bare white thigh.
“Alec,” she gasped out.
He kissed her again, gently, silencing her with his lips. He removed his hand from her limb just long enough to give her a reassuring caress on her hair.
“What the hell are you doing, Alec?” she demanded.
“Shh. You know you want this. You told me so just a little while ago.”
“That was before you told me what that woman did to you!”
“What does it matter?”
“What does it matter?” she echoed in disbelief. She cupped his face, her fingers fever-hot against his cheek. “Alec, you don’t have to do this to get me to care about you.” She raked her fingers through his hair and clutched a handful of it, tugging just enough to get his attention.
He liked that.
“Listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you,” she said. “You don’t need to do this.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” he whispered as he went exploring again beneath those fields of white gauzy muslin. He knew just where to touch her. Her soft, warm, quivering body eased his pain, delighted him.
She moaned as he stroked her, her lashes fluttering closed as she struggled to fight it. She tried one more time to reach him, but her innocent will was fading as passion darkened the violet of her eyes. She clutched his shoulders and kissed his brow. “You can’t buy me with pleasure, Alec.”
“Can’t I?” he murmured.
“Stop,” she groaned, even as her hips arched in guilty pleading for more, taking his probing fingers in deeper.
Alec gave her what she craved, playing her smooth body like a quivering instrument.
“Oh, God, I can’t resist you,” she gasped out a few moments later, a confession purely drenched in the jungle steam of her core. He wanted to lick her.
“Why would you even try?” he whispered as softly as the wind. “Just enjoy it. Take what I give you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
“What do you want?” she groaned, half despairing.
“Your surrender, my love. I must have it. Give it to me. Feed me with it. Put it in my mouth.”
She finally seemed to understand, relaxing under him; finally, she decided to indulge him. Perhaps she had realized at last that he needed to do this to her; that she simply had to let him.
With yielding softness, she let her legs spread wider and brought her knees up loosely, cradling his head ever so lovingly between her hands as he descended.
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, giving him exactly what he craved.
Alec was shaking with passion himself. He ripped the bodice of her dress in his feverish need to suck her tits. She helped to free them and put them in his mouth, watching hungrily. He moaned as he devoured them with shameless greed, each firm, round globe in turn; and barely satisfied, down he went, lower, kissing his way down her lovely body until his tongue danced lusty pirouettes upon her clit.
Becky was dripping, drenching his face and his hands with her body’s glorious yes. She draped one leg over his shoulder, fucking his fingers and his tongue without a trace of inhibition. Alec was in heaven, worshiping her. He never felt more alive than those few precious, fleeting moments before he brought a woman to ecstasy. And this one, God knew, was wild. If ever a girl had been made just for him, it would be her. The fiery ardor of her response could have shattered his exquisite self-control. His swollen cock threatened to come bursting out of his clothes; but no.
He would not mount her, much as he might burn to. He had meant it when he said he would not put it in her again so long as she refused to marry him.
As she neared climax, his own pulse climbed.
“Oh, God, oh, Alec, my angel.”
He could feel her hovering there on that airy precipice: She was right where he wanted her. With another smooth maneuver of his hand and a final slow stroke of his tongue, she plunged over the edge, writhing against his mouth, drenching his deeply buried fingers with the sweet, clear tide of her release.
“Holy Christ,” she said after a very long moment’s silence. Her lashes swept open; her violet gaze was fevered as she looked at him in spent and panting disbelief.
Alec closed his eyes like a man redeemed and laid his head on her trembling belly as he struggled to bring his own galloping drives under control.
She tangled her fingers weakly in his hair. “Oh, darling.”
He reveled in her touch.
“Come here,” she whispered.
He looked up warily at her.
She opened her arms again to him, just as she had at the start—undaunted.
He marveled.
Holding her stare in a kind of trance, he pushed up onto his knees between her legs and slowly wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve. Then he came nearer and laid his head down on her chest, facing away from her.
She had nothing to say. No reproach. No head games. Not even a Lizzie-style lecture, not that he had ever even dreamed of doing this to Lizzie.
Lizzie, he had put on a pedestal, where he could never reach her, and more important, where she could never reach him. But this was Becky, who didn’t run away at his evil little tricks the way Lizzie had; who not only had the power to reach him, but had somehow gotten inside of him.
“Now you understand,” he said at length.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Now I understand.”
She wrapped her soft arms around him and kissed his head.
Slowly, as Becky caressed him with a world of patience and quiet acceptance the likes of which he’d never known, Alec felt the darkness leaving him bit by bit. By degrees. Her touch told him many things. Things he probably wouldn’t have believed if she had tried to say it in words. He felt her fierce protectiveness over him. He felt her compassion. He felt the will in her to help him trust again.
And he realized that maybe his performance this afternoon had not been necessary after all.
Well, then. He smiled faintly against the delicate, tattered gauze of her white bodice. That made him all the more glad he had done it.
CHAPTER
NINE
“Becky, would you please hurry up?” came Alec’s third impatient call from the bottom of the grand marble staircase in Knight House.
“One minute—sorry!” Her heart fluttered with excitement as she peered into the mirror near the open door, seizing one last chance to make a hasty inspection of her
self before going out on their evening’s adventure to the gaming house.
After a leisurely day spent resting and then playing dress-up with Alec, she could barely believe her own transformation. The gown he had picked out for her and insisted she wear from Her Grace’s borrowed collection was composed of white net over a sheath of pink satin, and trimmed with rows of dusky rose ribbon around the neckline, sleeves, and hem. It had a charming little bow tied in the front of the high waistline just beneath her bosom, but Becky’s favorite part of the costume was the adorable toque of rich rose satin and white lace.
The large sweeping plume of white feathers were a bit of a nuisance, but she liked the way the hat framed her face, her dark curls swinging jauntily below it on the sides. She looked so elegant she almost scared herself. “You’ll be fine,” she whispered, making absolutely sure she had nothing in her teeth, then smoothing skirts.
“Hullo? Becky? I’m wasting away of old age down here!”
“Coming!” Hurrying out of the chamber, she tingled with self-consciousness. She was dressed like a duchess and looked like a fine London lady, but the only thing that stopped her from feeling like an utter fraud was the appreciative glow in Alec’s eyes as his possessive gaze traveled over her.
“Highly acceptable, cherie,” he purred as she hurried down the stairs, the banister slippery under her hand in the white satin gloves.
“Are you sure this cravat looks all right?” Her handsome escort frowned a bit as she joined him, handling the small knot of his white neckcloth gingerly.
“I told you it does. Well, I did my best.”
Dressing him had been one of the most entertaining things she had ever done in her life, and she had earned that privilege because it seemed his valet had stormed out just last week in despair of ever receiving the back wages his master owed him. A very bad state of affairs for a London dandy.
“He’ll be back,” Alec had assured her with a grin. “Dressing me has made him a legend among his peers.”
“You’re so wonderfully modest,” she had teased him.
“Thank you, Miss Ward. I do try.”
Tonight he wore a formal black coat with clawhammer tails. The superb cut of the jacket accented the powerful breadth of his shoulders. Beneath it, his waistcoat was of snowy white silk. His lightweight wool trousers charcoal gray with a strap running under his elegant black shoes to keep them lying smooth and perfect down the front of his long-legged frame.