by Violet Heart
Flexing her jaw, she placed her foot on the step. Alone with Jorge in a carriage? Not a good idea.
Chapter Four
His chance had arrived. Jorge fairly shook at the thought of finally avenging his brother. With Yasmine at Jorge's side, the were-king would not only admit him into his presence, his guard would be lowered. He couldn't have planned this better if he'd tried.
Jorge offered his arm to help Yasmine into the carriage. He climbed in after her and took a seat on the opposite bench. A slight frown marred her alabaster brow. He wasn't entirely welcome. He didn't care.
"Thank you for allowing me to accompany you," he said as the carriage rolled toward the lane.
She kept her eyes to the window and didn't reply.
"About last night—"
"The less said, the better." Her gaze found his. Her throat and cheeks pinked.
"You're embarrassed." He fought a smile. He'd been right about her. She was sweet and good, the two qualities most lacking in his life.
"Of course I'm embarrassed." Her long fingers fluttered to her throat then down to the neckline of her gown.
"What do you want, Yasmine?" He leaned forward.
She glanced at her lap. "What do you mean?"
"I think I was clear."
A spark of spirit lit her dark eyes when she looked up. "I want what every lady wants. An honorable man to marry. A future promising stability without boredom. Children. Love."
He wasn't worthy of her, and they both knew it. An honorable man to marry. The first item on her list, and it slapped him. Hard.
He'd never wanted marriage or children. He hadn't given much thought to his future, for that matter. Now, in this carriage with her, he began to wonder. What would his life be like with Yasmine at his side?
First, he'd have to give up his rakish ways. Not yet, however.
He took the hand at her neckline, letting his fingers linger to brush the upper swells of her lovely breasts. "I'm fortunate you haven't found your honorable man yet. I have the chance to enjoy you in the meantime." He kissed her knuckles.
She shook her head. "You're wrong about me."
He arched his eyebrows while massaging his thumb in circles on her palm. "Am I?"
"Why'd you come to Rift, Lord Grauwolf?"
"Jorge."
"Fine. Why are you here, Jorge? You're not passing through, as you'd have your aunt believe, and you're not visiting. What's your purpose?"
His spine stiffened. Was he more transparent than he realized, or did she have some kind of sixth sense? "I'm here for answers."
"Don't lie to me. I recognize that your trip here is about your brother, but don't try to convince me you're here solely for information. You're too intent."
He moved to the seat next to her, his knee touching hers. It gratified him that she didn't shy away. "Maybe I've come for an amorous adventure. Maybe I have only mayhem and mischief on my mind. You've already pointed out that I'm a rakehell of the first order."
She assessed him, her countenance passive but her breathing faster. Before she could speak, however, they turned off the road onto the Malveaux drive.
As the castle manor came into view, anticipation vibrated through him. He released her hand and forced himself to relax against the seatback.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Beg pardon?" He kept his gaze on the approaching building.
"Something's wrong." She put her hand on his wrist.
Hairs stood on end along his arm. She was too perceptive by half. "Why does something have to be amiss? Can't I be nervous to meet Lord and Lady Malveaux for the first time?"
She barked a pretty laugh. "You? Nervous? No. I don't believe you for a second."
They arrived at the front and came to a stop. A butler emerged and descended the few steps.
"My lady," said the man with a bow. "I'm sorry to say you've come when my lord and lady are out. A pressing matter called them away early."
"How disappointing," said Yasmine.
The butler met Jorge's gaze, and an understanding passed between them. The servant sniffed in a distinctly werewolf manner. "My lady, perhaps you'd like to come inside." He placed a hand on the door's handle.
"She's fine," said Jorge, fighting an urge to wrinkle his nose in warning. "I'll see her home, good man. Please inform Lord Malveaux that Lady Yasmine and the Marquis of Austral came calling. We'll try again another time."
The man looked to her. "My lady, you're very welcome to come inside." He cut a quick glance at Jorge.
Yasmine smiled kindly. "Thank you, Butters. That's generous of you, but Lord Grauwolf's right. It's better if I go home."
The butler retreated a step and bowed.
As they headed toward the road, she leaned near and asked, "What was that all about?" Her brow angled sharply.
He shrugged.
"Don't play ignorant."
"Then don't play the prude." He reached over and cupped her breast. He rubbed his thumb across the hardening nub of her nipple.
She slapped him. "You're too bold." She crossed her arms and stared out the window.
He touched fingertips to his tingling cheek and smiled. He appreciated her spunk.
"A lady wants to be gently wooed, not grabbed or pawed." She huffed.
He smiled bigger at her choice of words. If only she knew… "Is that an invitation to court you?"
Rubbing her palms on the fabric covering her knees, she said, "To be honest, I'm not sure. You vex me so often, and I admit to making an attempt to avoid you this morning."
"That's remarkably honest of you."
She faced him. "But there's a quality about you that appeals to me beyond reason. I'm confused." She glanced out the window and frowned. "The moon's out. How odd. Did you know tonight's a full moon?"
"I did." Even as he said the words, the lunar pull ignited his blood. The pull had been with him since the day before. The restlessness driving him since puberty grew greater than ever. "Come to my aunt's house with me."
She shook her head. "I'd be pleased to have my driver deliver you on my way home, but I can't stay. I'll have a stable hand bring your horse from my father's house." She knocked on the roof then opened the window and instructed her driver.
"Yasmine." A stirring of desire flared. He had to touch her.
She closed the window. "Yes?"
He took her hand. Cupping his fingers alongside her long, slender neck, he stared into her widening eyes. "I need you," he whispered. His gaze went to her lips a moment before he captured them with his own.
She stiffened, but only briefly. As he tilted, brushing his mouth across her sweet lips, she softened. She pressed into his kiss on a feminine moan of surrender that fed the flames in his belly. She sent her fingers into his hair and closed her eyes.
He closed his, too. Urging her to open, he lost himself in her. The silken slide of her tongue along his. The scent of Queen Anne's lace and orchid that clung to her hair and skin. The welcoming curves of her body against him.
Their breathing grew louder, filling the cab with the sound of their burgeoning excitement. Her sensuality drew him irresistibly, as though she bore a bit of the moon inside her. Despite an urgent hunger for her, he gentled. He slowed his kiss and his caresses, and the more patient he became, the greater her passion grew.
She groaned while her arms went about his shoulders and her lace-encased breasts crushed to his jacket. Her physical response to his attention sharply contrasted the indignant prig she tried to act. He liked how she endeavored to behave as a lady of propriety, but with him, she couldn't.
He also liked how her morning attire offered far fewer restrictions and constraints than her eveningwear of the night before. Her breasts rode free above her smaller corset, covered only by two thin layers of cloth. No petticoat. No tight fabric and frustrating buttons.
He had to see how far she'd let him go, and more than anything, he wished to see her take pleasure. Without breaking their intensifying kiss, he extended
his arm, getting his hand as close to her hem as he could manage. He gathered her sheer blue muslin and satiny chemise to her knees. When his fingers skimmed her stocking-softened knee, she gasped and clamped a staying hand to his.
"Let me," he whispered.
The carriage dipped into a rut, sending his fingers deeper between her warm legs. Her accusing eyes went wide. "Jorge!"
"Please, Yasmine. Let me pleasure you. Give into this day's moon magic."
Her lids lowered halfway, and her thighs relaxed some. "You feel it, too?"
How could he help it? It cycles regulated his entire existence. "Yes. Ease my suffering. Let me touch you."
She inhaled through her mouth and spread her legs. "I'm beyond wicked," she said, closing her eyes.
"Lovely, Yasmine." He inched along the linen of her bloomers to the opening that offered her pussy. "You are the least wicked person I know."
He took her lips the instant his finger entered her hot, slick crease. Her body shuddered, and she moaned quietly into his mouth. Stroking through her wet folds, he put a hand to her back and enjoyed the writhing his efforts produced.
His cock hardened. His body quickened. His thoughts centered on how much he wanted to remove his trousers' panel and thrust into her quim. He wouldn't push her that far, however. That she allowed even this astounded him. The moon's seduction influenced her far more than he'd thought. Or did something else force her past the walls of moral resistance?
He circled his finger around her pleasure nub. Her hips began a rhythmic undulation upon the bench. As he encouraged her clit out from under its hood, he added effort to his kiss. He urged her backward, dominating her.
She was no kitten, though. When he caressed his finger over her exposed clitoris, she grabbed his shoulders and sent her tongue into his mouth. She groaned, a sexy sound that shut down his thoughts and shot an intense ache of need into his hard-on.
He allowed a few more strokes of tongue and finger then wrenched his mouth from hers. He struggled for breath. His fingers still worked at her enticing pussy.
Each pass of his hand caused delicious tremors in her. Above the gathered bodice of her gown, the swell of her breasts shimmied beautifully. Her countenance tightened at the same time her mouth softened and opened. Her head fell backward. She clung to his shoulders.
"Jorge." She drew upon three long inhales. "Please. Stop."
Reluctantly, he withdrew his fingers. He buried his face in her voluptuous décolletage and placed a kiss into her sweet cleavage. If only he could stop time and bury his rigid erection into that heavenly depression between her firm tits. Or better, go to his knees and taste her spicy excitement. He'd give a great deal to have her legs around him as he licked her to orgasm.
Unfortunately, they passed under the stone arch marking the entrance to Grauwolf Haus. He helped her right her gown while willing his cock to flaccid disappointment.
"You drive me to distraction," he said low, his voice ragged with unsatisfied need.
She cleared her throat and pressed slender fingers to her cheeks. "I won't say what you drive me to, but it's not good. This is surely the path to destruction."
"Come inside with me," he said, loath to part with her after such an encounter.
"No." She turned her attention to the mansion.
What could he say to make her stay? "I'd like to speak with you."
"There can be no casual conversation between us, Jorge. We've gone too far in our inappropriate intimacy."
"I don't wish to make idle chitchat, Yasmine. Please." The carriage came to a halt at the front, but he put his head out and told the driver to continue around to the rear.
"This is about Youel, isn't it?" She studied him, though she bore kindness in her visage.
"Yes." The carriage stopped and the door opened. "He's the reason I'm in Rift. I need your help. I’m asking for a few minutes. Nothing more." His member relented, and he sighed in relief. He'd dreaded walking into his aunt's house with a hard-on.
"Very well." She accepted a servant's arm and alighted to the lawn.
When he stepped out, he gave her his arm. The second her hand landed on his sleeve, a bolt of electricity jolted him. She stiffened and sucked air between her teeth. They both turned simultaneously toward the ghost of a moon in the blue, late-morning sky.
If he never saw her again, she'd haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't let that happen.
She cut her gaze his way, a knowing in her glance.
Had he ruined any chance for them? I'm a fool. She was a lady and a truly fine person. Rather than courting her properly, he'd disrespected her at every opportunity. He'd treated her like a passing diversion. How would he fix this? Could he? Jorge held the garden door open for her, and she preceded him into the morning room.
Chapter Five
Just inside, she let go of his arm and hung near the door. "You're mistaken in your brother's character." Sadness rumpled her brow and softened her large eyes.
"What do you know of Youel?" A shiver ran up his neck and into his hair. He fisted his hands.
"He treated my friend abominably, and he had ill intentions in terms of Rift. Intentions that would've harmed my family and me had he succeeded." Her chin lifted a full inch.
"You know nothing." He grabbed her wrist to keep her near.
She put cool fingertips to the back of his clutching hand. "I'm not blind." She met his stare, but hers held tenderness. "Do you think I could live in Rift among our nobility and not realize? I'd have to be a simpleton."
His angry heart lost some of its heat. "You're certainly no ninny." How much did she understand?
"I know who you are, Jorge. What you are. I won't help you seek revenge on a brother who'd have stabbed you in the back had you tried to prevent his plan. He was ambitious in the worst way."
He shook his head, though a suspicion of truth in her statements pierced him in the chest. "No. You're wrong." He fought pain, sinking teeth into his lips.
"You're so unlike him."
"Don't say that. I practically raised him. We're the same, he and I. After my parents died, we struggled on our own nearly a year before my uncle gave us a home. Youel wasn't bad."
"He was."
The pain twisted, squeezing fingers around his heart. "Any badness in him was my fault." His knees threatened to crumple. Jorge released Yasmine as if she'd singed him. He stood straighter and retreated a step. "I won't believe it."
"You must. To believe a lie is foolish, and you're not a fool. He murdered innocents, using their deaths to lure the men he truly sought to kill. He craved power, and nothing stood in his way that he wouldn't have fought unto death to remove."
"Is that what you're saying happened?"
She closed the distance he'd created, and tenderly touched his face. "Don't take my word. Will you please hear this from someone who was there?"
His staunch defense melted under her gentle affection. Nobody had looked at him, touched him as she did now. She genuinely cared, and it rocked his flawed foundation. "Who, Yasmine? Who will tell me the truth? Who witnessed my brother's death and would be willing to tell me everything?"
"I would." His aunt stood in the solarium's doorway. Her eyes narrowed, and she slowly turned a silver wolf's-head pendant at the end of a chain necklace. "I see Yasmine has prepared you well. Come. You're ready to listen to the truth." She turned, her ample hips filling the opening before she retreated into the depths of the mansion.
Jorge's stomach dropped. "Is that what you've been doing? Preparing me? Playing hard to get so I'd give chase? So I'd give you a chance to soften my resolve?" He barked a cynical laugh while his blood changed to acid. "And to think, all this time I thought I was using you to get close to Malveaux."
"What?" She stumbled a step, her features falling.
Jorge's stomach dropped. Was he wrong? Was he so poisoned in his view that he saw manipulation and vice in everyone? "Yasmine—"
She shook her head and retreated a step. Genuine
hurt reflected in her stare.
"Nephew," called Lady Grauwolf from within.
He glanced toward the doorway. "One moment, Aunt Charlotta." When he turned, however, Yasmine had gone.
For a second, he contemplated going after her. He had deeply offended her. He couldn't imagine he had anything she'd want to hear. Not right now, anyway. Before he sought her, he needed answers. Sighing, he pivoted on his heel and strode after his aunt.
* * * *
After dismissing her maid, Yasmine gave the sleeve of her night rail an irritated yank. Her lace ripped. "Damn!"
"Such unladylike language."
Gasping, she spun to face the window. She was about to give Jorge a dressing-down for taking advantage of her need for fresh air when the words caught in her throat.
He trembled. His face was paler by easily two shades, and he twisted the collar of his doffed jacket so badly she feared he'd not be able to don the garment when he left.
"You listened." Her ire dissipated from a fiery inferno to a smoldering wisp of smoke.
"How…?" He raked fingers through his hair, which came loose from its cord tie. "I loved him." His gaze searched her face.
"I don't doubt he took full advantage. You refused to see any wrong in him. What a perfect arrangement for a young man with such a character as his." She wove together her fingers to prevent them from reaching out to him. I'm still mad at you.
"My character's no better, apparently. I came to Rift intent on murder, too."
"You can't compare your conduct with his. Youel came solely for the selfish purpose of wresting power from the hands of men a hundred times better than himself. You came to right what you perceived as a wrong. You're noble. He was not."
He shook his head. "Not so noble. I used people, just like he did. Good people. My aunt. You."
"It comes down to motive, I think. Do you think he'd have listened to reason? Do you think there's anything anyone could've said that would've swayed him from his course?"
"No. Youel had always been a determined person. Once he made up his mind, nothing could stop him." He relaxed a bit, his shoulders lowering a fraction. "I admired that trait. I'd always thought it made him strong in the best way. That he'd become a great leader one day."