Placing his hand over hers, he held it in place while he turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to its center. “How will you explain your touched state on your wedding night?”
“I’m not going to marry.”
His eyes held hers. “What if you have an offer?”
“I don’t trust any man to be sincere when he says he wants me. None has ever claimed to love me.” She lowered her hand to his lapel, squeezed her fingers around it. “Don’t say those words to me tonight. I don’t need them. I want honesty between us.”
“Says the woman in the gilded mask.”
“There’s no dishonesty in not revealing who I am when it is the mark of this place. Didn’t you accept these conditions with other women?”
“But none of them intrigue me as you do. Yet if the choice is to accept your terms or not have you … I’ll accept your terms.” He released her, stepped away. “Now, let’s enjoy what Lady Eliza prepared for us.”
She looked more closely at the room then, realized it was larger than the other. Thick red velvet hung from the canopy of the bed in stark contrast to the white satin sheets that glistened in the candlelight like a shimmering pool of decadence. Within the sitting area, a fire burned low on the hearth. Near the window was a cloth-covered table set with a light repast and a bottle of wine. Ashebury was pouring the burgundy liquid into two goblets.
Wandering over, she said, “I’m not certain I can eat.”
He peered at her. “If not now, later. You need to keep up your strength. We have all night.”
She almost told him that she needed to be home before her parents were up, and her father was an early riser. But she would worry about working her way through that gauntlet later. After taking the goblet he offered, she sipped the wine, smiled. “Very nice.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She glanced around. “Why this room?”
“It’s used only by the most elite, for special occasions. It doesn’t seem quite as tawdry. It’s isolated, which I thought might make you less self-conscious should you have a need to scream in pleasure.”
After last night, she suspected he could very easily make her scream. She took another sip, licked her lips, watched as his eyes darkened. “You didn’t set up your camera.”
“I’m not here for photographs tonight.”
“Did the one you take of me turn out?”
“It is without doubt my best work.”
“I hoped you might bring it, show it to me.”
He slowly shook his head. “I’ll never share it with anyone, not even you.”
“That hardly seems fair. Perhaps I’ll have you teach me how to use a camera, and I’ll take a photo of you.”
He picked up a strawberry, placed it lightly against her lips. “I’ll be happy to add that to the list of things I intend to teach you.”
Taking a bite of the strawberry, she enjoyed the succulent sweetness, watched as he finished off the fruit. Everything was going so slowly, more slowly than she’d anticipated. “I thought we’d get right to it.”
“I told you that first night that a slow seduction increases the anticipation and ultimately the pleasure.”
“The slow seduction began two visits ago, wouldn’t you say?”
The sensual smile he bestowed on her hinted at his devilish nature. “There is only one first time, V.”
Her mouth was suddenly dry. “I see you’ve decided to go informal. Should I call you A?”
“Ashe. Would you rather I call you something else? Sweetheart, perhaps?”
“I don’t want any false endearments.”
“If I utter them, trust me, they will not be false. I don’t play games. When I take a woman to my bed, I’m quite serious about it.” Setting his glass aside, he took a step nearer to her, drilled his gaze into hers. “And your mask will come off. If you want me to do naughty things with you, it will come off.” He trailed his finger along her skin, just below the lower curve of the mask. “I’m going to remove your clothing, and then I’m going to extinguish the candles, draw the curtains around the bed, so there is naught but darkness within it. You’ll slip inside, remove the mask. When you’re ready, I’ll join you.” He leaned nearer, whispered, “And when we’re both ready, I’ll slip inside you.”
She quivered with need as the images bombarded her. Slow seduction indeed. She finished off her wine, hoping it would calm her racing heart.
“But first,” he said, straightening, “I have something for you to wear so you won’t feel quite so exposed.” After reaching inside his jacket, he unfurled his hand to reveal a small chain of golden links with delicate golden tassels dangling between them.
“What a gorgeous bracelet!” She studied him. “You can’t be meaning to give it to me.”
“Not a bracelet exactly.” He knelt, patted his thigh, looked up at her. “It goes around the ankle. I purchased it during a trip to India. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to own it, but I know it belongs with you.”
“Honestly, I can’t take a gift such as that.”
“In a very short while, I’m going to take something from you. I should give you something in return.” He patted his thigh again. “Come on. You know you want it, and it’ll be our secret. You can wear it, and no one will see it beneath your skirts.”
She remembered his saying that she should be a little bit in love with the first person she coupled with. Was he striving to ensure that she was? Because she was certainly falling for him. She placed the goblet on the table, her hand on his shoulder for balance, and her foot on his firm thigh, giving her toes the freedom to curl and uncurl at the familiar feel of him. He secured the gold around her ankle. She didn’t think it had ever looked so delicate.
“Most gentlemen would probably give a bracelet or necklace or earbobs,” she said.
“I am not most gentlemen.” He unfolded that magnificent, well-toned body of his. “And you certainly are not most ladies.” With his eyes on her, he slipped a finger from each hand beneath the straps of the loosely flowing gown and began to move them aside.
Her breathing hitched. The moment for which she’d long waited was upon her. She wondered if she should have been frightened or nervous. If she would have been on her wedding night. But she was merely overflowing with eagerness and anticipation.
The cloth lowered a fraction, his gaze dipped down, came back up to hers. Held. Waited.
“It’s going to slither to the floor,” he said eventually. “Then I’m going to pick you up and carry you to the bed.”
“Not before I remove your clothing,” she said, a little more confidently than she felt.
His smile warmed, his eyes glinted with pleasure. “And here I always thought virgins were shy.”
“I’m not when I know what I want. And I want you.”
With a feral groan, he released the straps, cupped her face, and claimed her mouth while the silk fluttered to the floor. She should have felt exposed, but she didn’t. His arms came around her, pressing her against his chest while his mouth plundered. Rough and fast he’d once told her, and she suspected he’d been curbing his desires for fear of frightening her. But she had no qualms, no misgivings, no doubts. She needed this man as badly as she needed her next breath.
Breaking off the kiss, he lifted her and began striding toward the bed.
“Your clothing,” she admonished.
“I need to get you nearer to the bed while I still have the strength. You weaken me.”
Laughing, she cupped his strong jaw. He must have shaved immediately before coming here as she felt no stubble. She wouldn’t have minded it, but she was pleased he’d gone to the trouble. He smelled of soap and freshly applied sandalwood. He’d taken as much care as she had preparing for this encounter.
Setting her on her feet, he gave her body a slow perusal. “You’re exquisite.”
Such a simple statement, but it made her feel flawless, beloved, appreciated. In a figure eight, he traced a finger around her brea
sts. They tightened, seemed to strain toward him.
“Take down your hair,” he commanded.
“I thought you enjoyed unpinning it.”
“I want to watch your breasts lift up when you raise your arms. The darkness will prevent me from seeing so much. Indulge me now.”
She’d not considered that. Everything she wouldn’t see. “Isn’t this usually done in the dark?”
His eyes grew languid as he took them on a journey over the length of her. “Not always. Sometimes the darkness can add to the sensuality of the act. Sometimes the light can make it just as provocative. Depends what you desire. I’m the master of both.”
She would accuse him of being boastful, but she’d seen the truth of his words in his photographs. Swallowing hard, she raised her arms, watched as his nostrils flared, his lips parted slightly, his eyes glittered with yearning. As she searched out the pins, she nearly regretted that she required the darkness, that he required the removal of the mask. But she wanted it gone as much as he did. She didn’t want it hampering them.
She dropped the pins to the floor without ceremony. When she felt the weight of the strands shifting, the mask loosening, she turned her back on him in case the mask slipped too far before she could catch it. She heard his sharp intake of breath as her hair tumbled to her backside. Securing the mask, keeping her hands in place, she spun back around to face him.
“I thought I knew what you looked like,” he said. “Based on the flow of the silk you wore. I was wrong. You’re far lovelier than I imagined.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, to his compliments, to his praise. Slowly, she lowered her arms, feeling powerful and in control because she wasn’t self-conscious with his perusal.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked.
“Pardon.”
“My clothing. Didn’t you claim you were going to rip it from my body?”
“What would you wear home if I did that?” she asked, slipping her hands beneath the opening of his jacket, flattening them against his chest, taking immense satisfaction in his sharp intake of breath. She eased her hands up, gliding them over his shoulders, down his arms, neither of them reaching for the jacket when it tumbled to the floor.
She began unbuttoning his waistcoat with fingers she didn’t expect to be so steady.
“No nerves,” he said. So he’d noticed.
Lifting her gaze to his, she gave him what she hoped was a saucy smile. “I want this.”
“It’s taking too long.” While she unknotted his cravat, he began working on the buttons of his shirt. Then he drew everything over his head, exposing a finely shaped torso.
Her fingers did tremble now as she touched the horrid, ragged scar on his left shoulder. “Mr. Alcott didn’t exaggerate.”
“Pardon?”
She jerked her gaze up to his, saw the question there. Without thinking, she’d made a mistake, might have revealed herself had she said more. “I was at Lady Greyling’s when she welcomed you all back. I heard his tales, saw your photographs. They were the reason I changed my mind about posing for you.”
“We didn’t speak there. I would have remembered. Your voice is quite distinctive.”
She released a slow breath of relief. “I’m a wallflower at events such as that.”
“More’s the pity. And it seems my scars have dampened the mood. Climb on the bed. I’ll see to the rest.”
“I don’t find them hideous. They’re a symbol of courage.”
“More arrogance than courage. When captured by their beauty, I find it easy to forget that jungle creatures are wild.” He held her chin, kissed her. “I’m anxious to discover how wild a creature you might be. Get on the bed.”
Not so wild since she hesitated at the thought of removing his trousers. She gave a curt nod. As she clambered onto the satin sheets, aware of the tinkling of chains at her ankle, he began going around the bedstead, loosening the ties. The heavy velvet swung effortlessly into place, slowly enclosing her in the darkness.
Sitting there, she drew her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them and listened to the muffled tread of his footsteps as he went around the room, no doubt extinguishing candle flames. She heard the thud of a boot dropping, then another. Straining her ears, she listened to the rasp of cloth as he shucked his trousers, but suddenly all was silent, all was quiet.
“Is the mask gone?”
She startled at the deepness of his voice, just on the other side of curtain. “Are your trousers?”
“They are.”
She could have sworn she heard a hint of laughter in his voice.
“Come on, V, I’m dying to ravish you.”
Taking a deep breath, she reached back and loosened the ribbons that held her disguise in place. Stretching out on her knees, she set it in a corner at the foot of the bed. Surely it would be safe there.
“I’m ready,” she said softly.
The darkness parted to reveal deep shadows. She barely made out the form of a large man. The bed moaned as he climbed onto the mattress, the drapes closing behind him.
Snaking an arm around her, he drew her flush against him, flesh to flesh, from shoulder to toes, the heated length of him pressed hard against her belly. Unerringly, his mouth captured hers, and he plundered.
SHE’D almost given herself away. He’d almost told her that he knew who she was. But for whatever reason, she needed the secrecy, didn’t trust him with the truth. Although at that moment, rakehell that he was, he cared only that she trusted him with her body.
Ashe intended to ensure she had no regrets on that score.
He cursed the blasted darkness. He’d wanted to do more than lightly trail a finger over her skin when she was bared to him, but he’d known that if he cupped a perfectly formed breast, pinched a pale pink nipple, buried his fingers in the curls between her thighs that he’d have not been able to hold himself in check. That he would have tossed her on the bed and had his way with her then and there.
But he’d wanted the damnable mask gone.
So now there was nothing to interfere with his enjoying her completely. Thrusting his hand into her thick, curling hair, he held her head in place while he thoroughly kissed every nook and cranny of her mouth. She tasted of wine and strawberry, decadence and desire. And she didn’t hold back. She was exploring his mouth with equal measure, her fingers digging into his shoulders, his back. She was a match for any man, and some faulted her for it. More the fools were they. Her enthusiasm was unrivaled, her eagerness incomparable. And he’d almost turned her away for being a virgin.
More the fool would he have been.
But then he’d spoken to her at Greyling’s, been intrigued. A woman who knew her own mind, a woman of daring and courage and candor. Well, perhaps not all candor. She wouldn’t reveal her identity. As much as he wished she would, he understood her hesitation. What was happening between them now would be frowned upon by polite Society. While she claimed she wouldn’t marry, if her visits to the Nightingale were discovered, marriage would absolutely no longer be an option. She would be an outcast, not even welcomed into ballrooms or parlors.
So he didn’t blame her for her caution. He would hold her secrets. All of them. Each one that he was uncovering.
The softness of her skin as he dragged his hand along her spine. The round firmness of her bottom as he cupped and squeezed it. The way her breast filled his palm as he cradled it. The sensitivity of the area just below her ear as he kissed it. Her sweet moan as she pressed her body more firmly into his. The hard peak of her nipple as his tongue circled it before he closed his mouth around it. The echo of her sighs, the feel of her sole rubbing his calf. The hot dew that coated his fingers as he tested her readiness.
Bracketing his hands on either side of her ribs, he buried his face between the pliant mounds of her bosom. He hated the thought of causing her any discomfort.
She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Ashe?”
“Are you certain you’ll ha
ve no regrets?”
“I’ll only regret if you stop.” He heard her swallow. “I want you inside me.”
In spite of the darkness, he squeezed his eyes tight and groaned low. Her words hardened him further. He’d already sheathed himself. He kissed the inside of one breast, then the other. “Then prepare yourself, sweetheart. I’m about to drive you mad.”
ABOUT to? He’d already accomplished that feat. Every inch of her that he’d touched yearned to be touched again, every nerve ending was straining for what she knew he could deliver, for the pleasure that had rocketed through her before. She luxuriated in touching him, the areas she could reach, caressing her fingers over the flexing and bunching muscles.
With his mouth and fingers, he taunted. He kissed, he suckled, he nipped. Until she was writhing beneath him, until she was striving to meld her body with his, until she felt the push of his hardness against her heated opening. She stilled.
“Don’t tense,” he commanded, withdrawing. “Don’t think of what’s coming, just think of what is.”
She nodded, realized he couldn’t see the movement. Bringing up her legs, she wrapped them around his hips, heard the clink of tassels bumping together. “All right. But I’m ready for you. I know I am.”
“I know you are, too, but there’s no hurry.”
“I thought you liked it rough and hard. Or was it rough and fast?”
“We’ll have an opportunity for that later. We have lots of time.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.”
He slid up her, took her lobe between his teeth, and she moaned low.
“You’re in my arms,” he whispered hoarsely. “How could I be disappointed?”
She embraced him tightly. He’d said there were no falsehoods in his bed, and yet the words were hard to believe even though he uttered them with such conviction. Why couldn’t she have had this without a mask and shadows?
And what a silly woman she was to lament what she hadn’t possessed and not enjoy what she presently did. She had it now: his devotion, his desire. It didn’t matter that it would only be for tonight. The memory would carry her through to her dotage.
Falling Into Bed with a Duke (Hellions of Havisham) Page 15