“Stop!”
Both men paused at the sound of Ellie’s voice as she hurried across the terrace to stand in the middle of them. She swung her gaze between them and moved over to Abberley who was bent double and whose face was already swelling.
“What do you think you are doing?” She glared at him.
He sagged a little, seeing himself as she saw him. No better than the man he used to be. Thoughtless, aggressive, uncouth.
She put an arm around Abberley and Lucian could not help but fist his hands again. “Let us put something cool on that bump, Mr Abberley,” she said.
She motioned to Benton to take him in and, of course, the man obeyed, for who would not. Here was Countess Eleanor, not the sweet Ellie he knew. Regal, commanding, with a canny ability to make him feel quite the fool.
She came to stand in front of him and lifted his chin to eye his face in the dim glow from the windows. “What were you thinking? You cannot pick a fight with your host.” Clearly, she concluded there was no damage and Abberley needed her help more as she dropped her hand.
He clenched his jaw. “I was defending your honour.”
“Why? Lucian, I had thought you past such terrible behaviour, but clearly I was wrong.”
“He said...” he scraped a hand through his hair. “It does not matter now. I think it best I leave. Enjoy your evening, my lady.” He took her hand and kissed her gloved fingertips as though that might make up for his terrible behaviour. Why how she viewed him bothered him, he did not know.
She stared at him. He rose and they shared a look for a heartbeat before he snatched up his jacket and strode out of the rear gate, and onto the street. Lucian walked briskly. Had she watched him leave or simply dashed straight inside to see to Abberley? And why did it matter so much to him what Abberley said or even if they found each other attractive?
It didn’t, he told himself, as he strode along the dark street towards his town house. Let her be attracted to him. Let her take him as a lover, or even marry him. Then she would be Abberley’s problem.
So why did his stomach sink at the thought of her being someone else’s burden?
Chapter Sixteen
Finally
“Good morning.”
Lucian lifted his gaze from the papers on his desk and offered her a thin smile. The fight the previous night had not left a mark on him though he looked wearied. Mr Abberley could not say the same and had been sporting a fine bruise on his jaw by the time she had left for the evening. Not that she felt much sympathy for him anymore.
“My lady.”
My lady. Not Ellie. Oh dear, she had really ticked him off. “How are you? How is your face?”
He put a hand to the side of his head and shrugged. “A little sore. No less than I deserve I suppose.”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry for my words to you last night. Mr Benton told me Mr Abberley had said something none too flattering about me, and I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
Lifting a shoulder, his smile tilted further. “I cannot blame you.”
He did not blame her for misjudging him. Now she felt even worse. Lucian really was quite far removed from the young man she had once known. The revelation of his heroics had kept her awake all night. Not only had he tried to defend her honour—albeit, perhaps not in the best manner—but he had been injured rescuing a child. She knew there was more to the tale than he suggested. Mr Newcombe had not told her all, but it was clear he had entered the burning building with the knowledge he could well die to rescue the trapped child. He really was a hero.
“I am sorry I have caused you so much trouble.” Eleanor wrung her hands in front of her, avoiding his gaze. “I...I realise now I am in your way. I shall leave tomorrow on the first train.”
He stared at her for a long while, a finger tapping the desk. She could not look up for fear of meeting his gaze but she saw his tense posture in the periphery of her vision. The clock ticked heavily behind her, each thunk matching the beating of her heart in her ears. She was a fool to have become involved in his life in anyway. She should have stayed away. What had she been thinking, believing she could make some kind of small difference to the world? When had little Ellie Browning been anything other than insignificant?
“Stay.”
The word rushed towards her, harsh and raw. She lifted her gaze and her heart was now firmly jammed in her throat. Pure desire lit his eyes, but surely it was not for her?
“I cannot. My Mama—”
“Stay.”
Her lips parted and a nonsensical sound, a little like a sob escaped her. Her heart reached out for him and she wanted to draw it back, tuck it away and protect it behind the strongest fortifications possible, but it seemed Lucian had brought a battering ram to her chest and had broken through. He would only shatter her heart again.
Before she could think any further on the risks of being in Lucian’s presence, he stood, strode around the desk, kicked the door shut and moved towards her. His hands were upon her, cupping her face fiercely and lifting her lips to his. In the next instant, their lips had met. All of this happened in mere seconds and was a blur of movement, yet each moment felt so significant.
Her thoughts drifted and fear dissipated leaving only warmth and desire. The ache in her chest dropped low, swift and sharp. Eleanor was forced to scrabble her hands across his shoulders to get closer and the hard edge of the table met her bottom through her skirts as he pressed her back.
His tongue sought entrance to her mouth and she gave it to him. Their tongues tangled furiously. Heat was everywhere. Cupping her face, against her lips, crushing her body. Building inside.
The rough texture of his jaw created a delightful friction across her skin and he kissed her harder, desperately. She had never known anything like it, perhaps did not think Lucian capable of such reckless abandon. Nor did she think herself capable of such, yet here they were practically climbing against one another.
She bumped against the desk as a hand slid down to draw her closer. His palm fairly singed through the material and she grew aware of male hardness everywhere, even through the layers of her dress. If she did not have her thick petticoats, would she be able to feel another hardness? One she did not think herself capable of inspiring? It did not seem possible she could inspire that in Lucian yet he kissed her like a man possessed.
A rough sound rose from his throat and she answered it with a moan. Forceful fingers tugged at her hair and for once she didn’t care if it all came tumbling down. All she cared for was more kisses, more touches.
More Lucian.
When she slung her arms around his neck, their chests became crushed together and the throb deep down intensified. He groaned and bundled her closer, drawing her away from the desk. As they kissed, they wavered, back and forth like the sail of a ship. Her back struck the door, then he knocked into the bookcase. Several books spilled onto the floor with a thump but she didn’t care.
Finally she ended back by the desk and he lifted her upon it to position himself between her legs. She parted her thighs instinctively and he slotted himself as close as possible. And there. She felt it. That was it, was it not? His arousal?
It was no good, she had to know for sure. While he peppered hot, wet kisses down her neck, bringing about the most delightful tingle all across her face, she reached between them and cupped him through his trousers. Sure enough, there it was. She almost whooped with joy.
Lucian hissed and tore away from her. He didn’t leave her though, as she feared he might. Instead, he rested his hands on the desk on either side of her and pressed his forehead to hers. “Ellie, you’re a dangerous woman.”
She closed her eyes and tried to gather her breath, and her thoughts. Lucian desired her. Goodness knows why, but he did. No other man ever had. So what should she do with this knowledge? Was pursuing anything with Lucian worth the risk? A woman like her could never keep Lucian forever.
But, oh Lord, did she want to feel that delicious ache again, and en
joy his hot kisses over and over. She wanted to touch his skin and feel his muscles roll. She wanted him between her legs.
“Will you stay?”
Eleanor opened her eyes. “Mama is at home. I am neglecting her.”
“She will understand.”
What was he asking of her? She wasn’t sure, yet she could not bring herself to ask outright. “I should return home.”His shoulders sagged a little and she smoothed her hands over the top of them. “But I may return in a few days?” she suggested.
Up close, she could not see his smile but his eyes crinkled and he brought his hands up to cradle her jaw. “You drive me insane. How shall I survive the wait?”
“You have survived your whole life without me. I am sure a few days will do you no harm.”
Lucian drew back a little and his smile dropped. “I can’t offer you anything, Ellie. Hell, not that you need anything. You are far richer than I will ever be. But I am not in the position to—”
She held up a hand, feeling her confidence swell inside her chest. He did want her. Maybe not as a wife but as a lover. That was what he was saying, was it not?
“I do not ask for anything, Lucian. Just a little of your time. Can you give me that?”
“That I can do.” He stepped forwards again and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. “When you return, I shall make you mine.”
Excitement bubbled inside her. The way he said mine. Oh, it was what fairy tales were made of. But this was no fairy tale, she reminded herself. This was Lucian—a rake and a scoundrel. He would bring her a few moments of pleasure, nothing more. Well, hopefully more than a few moments. Enough to make her feel like a proper woman, she hoped.
But, whatever happened, she would not fall in love with him. She would not dream of happily ever afters and knights in shining armour. The rake wished to bed her and she wished him in her bed. That was as far as things would ever go.
Chapter Seventeen
No Horses Here
The clock chimed, dragging Lucian’s attention from his work. He dropped the letter he’d been holding and stared at the clock for several moments. Ellie would be waiting for him. His mouth grew dry. Was he really going to do this?
He pictured her sprawled on a plush hotel bed in nothing but a sheer slip of satin and nodded to himself. He bloody well was. He’d been on tenterhooks since he had received her telegram yesterday informing him she was returning today and to meet him at her hotel room at nine o’clock.
It was seven now, giving him two hours to clean up and dress. He had already taken a long bath in preparation and even stopped to have a cutthroat shave, but he had been working since he had returned home and the air of the study was stifling. Not that it was a hot day, but having her telegram in his pocket all day made his blood boil.
He cleaned and dressed with the help of his valet and tried to force thoughts of work aside. They were still trying to catch up after the loom collapsed and he had lost a worker. Fred’s mangled hand meant he wouldn’t be working in the mill ever again. Lucian had sent over some food and money via one of his office assistants and he said the prognosis looked dire.
When he stepped out onto the street, he drew in a breath of cool evening air and felt the stress slip away. He did not want work distracting him from tonight. For whatever reason, Ellie wanted him, and he wanted her. Wanted her so badly that the past week had been torture. He needed to breathe in her vanilla scent, touch her hair, feel her lips on his. Who knew little Ellie could kiss like that?
And from what she had hinted at, her husband had never brought her pleasure. That drove him wild—the thought that she’d never experienced the pleasure that could be had between a man and a woman. He imagined exactly how he would drive her to the edge and make her as wild as he. He’d use his tongue, his fingers, his cock to teach her exactly what her body could do.
The gas lamps were lit, casting their glow along the streets. From his townhouse to the hotel was only a fifteen minute walk along the cobbled streets and he could avoid the rougher areas that not even the bravest of men stepped foot in after dark. Though at present, he felt as though he could take on ten ruffians, if not more. No one would come between him and his Ellie.
His Ellie?
He shook his head. This would be a short affair. She was a widow—there was little shame involved in bedding her so his conscience would remain clear—but he could offer her nothing. Work kept him busy enough and Ellie deserved better than a grizzled ex-rake who once hurt her badly. Perhaps she would find herself a rich husband before long and they could live in castles and spend the rest of their days counting their money or something.
But first, she would be his. He allowed himself a smile and hopped up onto the pavement. Lucian grimaced to himself. Far too close to skipping along like a blasted schoolgirl for his liking. He also had to consider how he would ensure she did not see all his scars. Snuff out the candles perhaps? Or even take her so hard and fast that he had no time to remove his shirt?
Somehow he couldn’t see Ellie being fooled by any of that. Would he take the risk and hope she was not so repulsed that she sent him away?
He rounded the corner and the hotel came into sight. Though small by London standards, the hotel, which was only around twenty years old, was one of the finest in Caldton. Built like an Italian villa, its impressive columns and front facade dominated the street. It was, in his opinion, a fine place to meet one’s lover.
Though she was not his lover. Not just yet.
He allowed a small smile to tease his lips as the doorman opened the door and Lucian stepped through. Soon though.
Lucian skirted the reception with bold steps, as though he knew exactly where he was heading. Night time visitors would be no rarity but he did not wish anyone to spot him or ask him if he needed assistance. Ellie had suffered much at his hands and he refused to add sullying her name to his misdeeds too.
Thankfully he’d visited with business associates at the hotel so it did not take him long to find the third floor, and Ellie’s room. He paused outside and eyed the gold letters indicating her room. Tempted to pull out the telegram and double check the room number, he shook his head at himself and raised a fist to knock. He really was behaving like a whelp about to lose his virginity and Lucian was far from a virgin.
Rapping his knuckles several times against the door, he glanced up and down the corridor. Had he knocked too many times? Sounded impatient? Perhaps she had changed her mind? The door swung open and his already dry mouth turned to dust.
There wasn’t a stretch of silk in sight. In fact, one could have described the garment she was wearing as distinctly virginal, yet the billowing cotton lining her slender frame and pulling in under her breasts sent an instant dart of longing to his crotch.
But then it was her beaming smile that broke him. When he raised his gaze to hers, he saw the glow in her eyes, slightly hindered by apprehension. Her generous smile wavered but remained, and she looked so much like the hopeful, excitable girl he had known all those years ago.
“You came.”
It was a wonder his legs did not come out from beneath him. Oh, he came. And she would come. Over and over. Breathing his name, just like she had breathed those two words. Every muscle in his body tensed up and he stepped wordlessly over the threshold.
Ellie shut the door behind him, bringing her body next to his. Lucian studied the pale blue cotton chemise she wore and took in the way the ruffles skimmed her breasts and made him want to lick a path down and down until he became lost in her. He had seen far more enticing garments—ones deliberately designed to appeal to a man—yet on Ellie, everything enticed him.
She slid her hands over the fabric and chewed on her bottom lip. When she tipped her head down, a few curls spilled about her shoulders. Most of her abundant hair was piled high but as it often did, much escaped and his fingers twitched with the urge to bury into those curls.
“Will I do?” she asked, every ounce of vulnerability she had seeming to pour into
those words.
It was the undoing of him. “You shall more than do,” he said gruffly, his throat feeling as though full of coal dust.
He closed the gap and took her face in his hands. His lips met hers. She gasped and gripped his neck, drawing the slender column of her body to his. Sweet, precious feminine flesh pressed against him and he groaned into her mouth.
This was a mistake. It had to be. Bedding the woman whose life he had all but destroyed? But not even the hounds of hell could hold him back. Maybe bringing her pleasure would be his salvation.
Pish, unlikely.
She tasted of wine and he suspected she must have had some to still her nerves. But what was she nervous about? Did she too realise how wrong her desire was for him? What woman in their right mind would want a scarred man who had been unbearably cruel to her? But her desire was there, pulling her into him and making her rub her breasts eagerly against his chest.
Frantic fingers began plucking at his necktie and he lifted a hand to help before she strangled him. The hot, wet, desperate kisses continued. When he moved to draw the tie out and flick open his collar, she trailed her lips down the side of his face and along his neck. It was only when she began shoving off his frock coat did he realise she had been kissing his scar.
Lucian drew back long enough to fling his coat aside and to see no hint of repulsion in her gaze. He smirked to himself. He had always known Ellie was so much better than he. No judgement, no loathing. She saw him as...well, he did not know, but as something other than a scarred scoundrel.
“I’ve been—” His words were cut off by a blue blur of cotton flinging itself back against him. She kissed his lips with grateful, firm kisses, forcing him to spit out his words like pistol shots. “I’ve. Been. Thinking. Of. Nothing but you,” he finally spilled out.
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