"Does that something have anything to do with me?"
This was seduction, this sweep of his hands as he dragged her frock up past her knees, his fingers trailing a slow path over her thighs. She sighed. "I'm afraid that it very much does"
His laugh trembled over the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs where his lips touched her skin, his hands moving ever upward, his mouth following the trail.
"You are so sweet, Leah. I can't get enough of you"
His fingers found her nether curls. With exquisite tenderness, he stroked her hot, swollen flesh. "I should very much like to stay home with you, too"
She dropped her head back against the chair and shut her eyes. One long finger slid inside her passage, stroked her and teased her until she could no longer contain her moans.
He rubbed his thumb over a particularly sensitive spot be neath her curls that tightened and bloomed beneath his masterful touch. "But we must attend this evening . . "
Each slow circle sent a shattering ache through her belly and breasts. She couldn't comprehend his words. She bit her lips. Her breathing came in short, panting gasps.
A second finger joined the first. Stretching her. Filling her. But she wanted more. She clutched his shoulders in her fists, tried to drag him up the length of her body.
His throaty laugh matched her moan. "There is someone I want you to meet" His hot breath burned over her sensitive flesh as he gathered her chemise in his fist. He pushed it up to her waist. "He writes that he will be there tonight."
"Richard. Please-" She was naked to his gaze. She tried to clamp her legs together, but he wedged his shoulders between her knees.
"Hush," he commanded. "You are so beautiful..
He removed his fingers, then slowly dipped his head.
Leah gasped, "Richard! What are you doing?"
She closed her eyes, her breath trapped in her throat as his mouth touched her most feminine flesh, as his tongue flicked out to lick her and stroke her and taste her desire. She tossed her head from side to side. It was so shocking, so bold.
It must be a sin because it felt so good. Each tug of his lips, each stroke of his tongue, sent flashes of heat and pleasure and need coursing over her skin, through her breasts and her womb. She whimpered and moaned until she could stand it no more. "Richard, I need to feel you inside of me"
He pushed to his knees, wrenched open his breeches. He grabbed her hips, dragged her bottom to the edge of her chair. The heat of his tongue as he captured her lips, the taste of his breath, and his hot, hard length pumping inside her sent wave after wave of unbearable pleasure rushing through her. Tension spiraled like a vortex in her belly, spinning ever tighter and tauter, drawing her deeper and down, until her world shattered.
She clung to his shoulders, clenched her teeth against the words she longed to say, though it was growing harder to contain them with each passing day. The love she felt for this man consumed her. The future stretched out before her, and it filled her with inexplicable fear.
Chapter Eighteen
"Do you see him?"
"No." Richard scanned the lords and ladies, huddled together in the Elliots' ballroom, their indistinguishable faces blurring beneath the blazing chandeliers. Too many people crammed into too small a space left the room airless and hot. The sound of swishing satins and silks and voices all talking at once only added to the stifling atmosphere. "Perhaps he has yet to arrive. Shall we have another dance, my dear?"
Leah shook her head. "You need not stay by my side. Go. Find your friend. Or play a hand or two of cards"
A hand or two of cards? He laced his fingers behind his back to keep from pulling her into his arms, with no regard to the eager eyes all around them. She was so blissfully ignorant in the ways of society rakes, who drank, gambled, hunted and whored twenty-four hours a day. A hand or two of cards?
The look he sent her was so blatantly sensual, she snapped open her fan and waved it before her face.
"It is unbearably hot in here," she said, her voice breathless, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight. "Perhaps you could find your friend and meet me on the terrace?"
Her cheeks were flushed an enticing shade of pink. And once he got her onto the terrace, he could, perhaps, slip her away into the gardens, where he might find a secluded grotto....
Richard held up his hands. "All right, madam, you win. But do not promise your dances to anyone but me ""
"How terribly gauche of you, St. Austin. Rachel tells me it is malapropos to dance only with one's husband."
"Rachel is an addle-pated, buffle-headed harridan with apartments to let. Her opinions-"
Leah laughed and walked away, the flowing gold silk of her gown skimming like a lover's hands along her hips. She cast a glance over her shoulder, innocent and beguiling, her green eyes beckoning Richard to come hither, to surrender his soul, to confess all his sins. But he could not.
His sins were too dark, too dirty, ever to be revealed.
Need and desire pulled him toward her, but he forced himself to walk away. He prowled the ballroom, stalked the gaming rooms, searched the smoking rooms. Pierce was nowhere to be found, damn his eyes. If it weren't for his missive saying he would be here tonight, Richard would be home making love to his wife.
Not surrounded by sycophants and ne'er do wells.
God, how he hated these affairs. Ignoring everyone, he went in search of Leah. So what if le beau monde thought he was living under the cat's paw? He did not care. She was his wife and he wanted her. He admired her. Her honor, her courage, her devotion to her sister. A pain they had in common, each tortured by the loss of a sibling, but Richard had hopes of easing Leah's grief. A goodly number of men in his employ were now searching for Catherine Jamison, but he would not tell Leah. He would not raise her hopes, or her fears, not until he had undeniable proof of her sister's fate.
He tried not to probe too deeply into the desire, the need, he felt for his wife. Or the danger she brought to his heart. Or the fear haunting his nights until he awakened soaked in sweat, heart pounding, muscles clenching. And even that fear, that constant, aching tension, did not stop him from wanting her, needing her, as he'd never needed anyone before.
And therein lurked his danger. He wanted her too badly, cared for her too deeply, needed her too much.
"Have you lost your wife?" the voice he hated above all others hissed as she stepped into his path. Rachel arched her brows as she waited for his response. Her royal blue gown intensified the clear blue of her eyes. Her wheat-colored hair framed her face in an artful arrangement of cascading curls.
As much as it disgusted Richard to admit it, she was beautiful, but hers was an illusion of beauty. Inside, where it truly mattered, she was as ugly as a garden slug, and just as slippery. His reminder of all that was wrong in his world, and everything he stood to lose.
Appearance and propriety must be maintained, he told himself as he schooled a bland smile for the crowd. "Leave me be, Rachel. I am not in the mood to fence words with you"
"Are you in the mood for your wife?" Rachel taunted. "That is too bad, as she is dancing with that young man again. My, but they do manage to find each other simply everywhere ""
Richard's jaw clenched as a now-familiar miasma of jealousy swept away reason. He studied the couples waltzing by until he finally spotted Leah and her young fop.
Of course it was Prescott. It was always Prescott.
Everywhere they went, he arrived, dressed in elegantly fitted evening clothes, his hair flopping over his brow as if he were Byron or Shelley. The melancholy air of broken-hearted despair haunting his smile only added appeal to the quivering masses of eligible misses twittering behind their fans.
Richard felt his gut clench, but he was careful not to raise his brows or fist his hands or tighten a muscle as he watched Leah and Prescott dance. The boy was holding her too closely, smiling too fondly, his blue eyes darkened by the heat of the dance, or the burn of desire.
The last strains of music faded
away. Leah's mouth curved in a tender smile as she spoke to Alexander.
When she turned and walked toward the terrace doors, Prescott stared after her with the same besotted look Richard knew adorned his own face.
A few moments later, Prescott followed her into the night.
Leah walked with chin held high toward the terrace doors. Ladies all around watched her approach, then turned their heads when she came close enough to greet them.
Because of her less than noble birth, Leah knew she would never be accepted by the haut ton. While the notion stung her pride, she would not let them see her pain. She kept her chin high, her back straight, and her smile as regal as might the queen herself.
She blew a sigh as she stepped through the French windows and strolled to the balustrade. The night air was cool, scented with roses and honeysuckle, and soothed her overheated cheeks. If only Richard would find his friend. Then they could leave.
"Wishing on the stars again?"
"Alexander," she said, sending him a shaky smile. Though shadows still haunted his eyes, they had fallen into friendship again, if a bit more stiff and formal than their previous association. Neither ever referred to the madness of his desperate kiss, or to his proposal that she elope with him.
"Isn't it a lovely night?" she said, settling on the weather as a safe topic. "I cannot understand why anyone would prefer to be squeezed alive in a stuffy ballroom, when so much beauty awaits them here"
"Yes, it is beautiful."
His voice lingered on the word beautiful, and Leah had to look away, out over the gardens lit by paper lanterns.
Footsteps and giggling voices approaching the terrace doors shattered Leah's hopes for a moment of peace.
She rubbed a shaking hand across her brow. "I cannot bear one more disapproving glance cast my way."
"Who disapproves of you?" Alex said. "Tell me now."
Leah had not meant to speak the words aloud. She grabbed his arm. "I should not have said that, Alex. They do not disapprove of me. They simply think me an unsuitable wife for a duke. Please, I do not want any trouble. I just want fresh air and some peace"
With a stiff nod, Alexander grabbed her hand and pulled her into the shadows around the corner of the house. A few moments later, four women walked into the purple glow of moonlight bathing the terrace. Leah recognized the voices of the Ladies Montague, Elliot, Richmond, and Cunningham.
According to Rachel, who delighted in telling Leah all the sordid details of the ton, each of them, save Abby Cunningham, had tried to bring Richard up to scratch.
She glanced around her. There was no staircase on this end of the terrace, no means of escape without being seen. Not only would she have to listen to whatever these women had followed her out here to say, she was trapped in the shadows with a man who was not her husband. The impropriety of her situation choked her. Perfect. Simply perfect.
She leaned against the mansion, the cold bricks cutting into her back, and gave a silent prayer they wouldn't linger long.
"What a dreadful girl," Lady Elliot said.
"I think she is charming," Abby Cunningham countered.
"Charming? Have you been tippling the Regent's punch?"
"What else can one expect from one of the lower classes?" Lady Richmond sneered. "They may dress in the first stare of fashion, but they cannot buy good breeding and manners. She is a contamination to us all."
"She bought him with her money," Lady Elliot said. "My lord told me her dowry was large enough to buy the King himself."
"Do not be absurd," Lady Richmond scoffed. "St. Austin is the richest man in England. No, she is enceinte and her father forced St. Austin to the church with a gun"
Lady Elliot laughed. "Oh, that is too delicious. Do you think she is having an affaire de coeur with that young man? He is always casting sheep eyes at her ....
Leah seized Alexander's arm. The rigid tension of his muscles warned her he wanted nothing more than to fling their gossip in their faces, but she held him fast. To reveal their presence would only add fresh coals to an already raging fire.
At least now she knew the rumors whispered behind her back. Though it hurt, she was careful not to make a sound.
"You are way off the mark," Abby broke in. "She spent a week in my home following her injury. She is a lovely girl and St. Austin's devotion was admirable. He never left her side until she was out of danger, and even then, only to fetch a carriage to take her home. I tell you, he loves her"
"Poppycock!" This from Lady Margaret Montague.
Leah felt her skin grow cold. Her stomach lurched. She did not want to hear whatever it was Margaret was about to say.
"Poor, dear Lady Montague," Lady Elliot crooned. "How perfectly odious of us not to consider your tender feelings."
"Yes," Lady Richmond added. "How hard it must be for you to see St. Austin and his wife together when you came closer than any of us did to wearing that title yourself."
"How it must hurt to know he deserted your bed for another's," Lady Elliot said.
Leah held her breath as she waited for Margaret's response.
The only sound came from the music floating through the terrace doors and the chirping insects in the shrubbery.
Lady Elliot broke the silence. "Surely you aren't suggesting St. Austin still shares your bed?"
"I never said anything of the sort."
"That is the problem," Lady Richmond retorted. "You haven't said a word. Tell us everything. We're on tenterhooks to know."
"St. Austin is the soul of discretion," Margaret said. "You must promise never to repeat a word."
Her heart squeezing painfully, her blood roaring through her ears, Leah peered around the corner, watched as three heads adorned with feathers and jewels bobbed up and down.
Margaret looked at each lady in turn.
"He never left my bed," she said.
Everyone gasped. Leah's stomach clenched, her thoughts shattered. Only the certain knowledge she would be discovered huddled in the shadows with Alex kept her silent. That, and the painful knot building in her throat. A familiar sensation teased her, a fleeting image, lost before it became clear.
She rubbed her hand over the back of her neck.
Margaret nodded. "It is true. He married her for the money, make no mistake about it. Eric ran amuck with the estates, as did his father before him. St. Austin inherited a tremendous debt. I knew he was going to wed"
The women gazed at Margaret with wide-eyed stares.
"We discussed it several times," she said. "I wanted to wed him, of course, but I didn't have the capital he required. It was I who suggested he look to the nouveau riche for his heiress, as she would be less likely to interfere in our lives-"
"You are lying," Abby declared and stormed away.
"How dare she insult me like that," Margaret said. "You may believe what you like. It does not matter to me in the least."
Margaret marched into the ballroom, her footsteps tapping furiously on the stone floor. Lady Elliot and Lady Richmond followed at a more sedate pace, their heads close together in clandestine conversation.
Leah walked to the balustrade. She gripped the railing, the rough stone cutting into her palm, as Margaret's words echoed in her mind. He never left my bed ... never left my bed ... my bed ...
The throbbing in her head intensified, clarified the blurred images haunting her dreams. In the darkness of her mind, she saw another night, another balcony.
Rain beginning to fall. Richard kneeling at Margaret's feet as she lay upon a stone bench, her arms twined about his neck. His hands clutching her wrists. His mouth pressed against her lips, locked in a passionate embrace.
The ground swirled beneath Leah's feet. She shoved her fists against her eyes, but the vision remained.
Alexander grabbed her shoulders, tugged her hands away from her face, pulled her against his chest.
"Hush, hush," he said as she sobbed against his waistcoat, her hands clutching the lace of his shirt. "Pay them no heed
. They are spiteful biddies, not worth the price of your tears "
"Unhand my wife," Richard's voice roared from behind them. He grabbed Alexander's shoulder and shoved Leah out of the way.
"Do not touch him," she cried as his fist connected with Alexander's jaw. Alex flew to the pavement.
Leah fell to her knees, cradled Alexander's face in her hands. He wasn't bleeding, but his eyes appeared vacant, slightly stunned. She helped him to his feet, then glared at Richard. Her skin shivered as an icy fury curled her hands into fists. "How dare you! What has he ever done to you?"
"He dared touch what is mine," Richard snarled, his jaw clenched. His nostrils flared. His arms and legs were rigid, as if he were struggling to restrain himself from further violence. "Step away from him. Now, madam, so I can teach him not to dally with another man's wife."
Of all the nerve! Leah sucked in her breath, marched over to Richard, and slapped him with all the strength she possessed.
His eyes glittered dangerously in the low light.
She wasn't afraid, though. Even as her fingers went numb and a stinging pain shot up her arm, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. "I am going home now," she said evenly. "If you so-much-as-touch one hair on his golden head, I will carve out your philandering heart with your own hunting knife!"
Chapter Nineteen
Philandering heart?
Richard rubbed his palm over his stinging cheek as he watched his wife disappear around the side of the house. Her words stabbed through the furious haze still clouding his reason.
What had she meant by that? And why was she crying?
It made no sense when she was the one dallying with another man, her face buried against another man's neck.
Not just any man, but a man she had once thought to marry, his hands moving circles over her back, his mouth touching her ear as he murmured seduction.
Richard flexed his fists as he advanced on Alexander. His muscles grew rigid. His skin tight. "Name your seconds"
A Dangerous Man Page 18