Arousal knifed through him. White-hot, alarming in its intensity. In spite of loyalty to her brother, she wanted to be with him … He forced himself to inhale and exhale. "Not shocked, no." He ran his knuckles softly along her cheek. "Grateful, definitely."
That caused her to grin. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, with a bold feminine desire that washed heat over his insides. He'd been with lusty women before. He'd fucked women who screamed with pleasure and demanded more. But this was different. He'd never felt desired as he did now. As if he was more than just a randy beast, an obliging cock. A handful of gold.
As if Percy wanted him. Just ... him.
Her hands slipped under his waistcoat, making his heart pound even faster. "Before we go on," she said, "I wish to clarify a few matters. About our bet."
"Yes, buttercup?" he managed.
"I assume you're not willing to forfeit at this point?"
Instantly, suspicion and mistrust mangled inside of him. Instinct whispered in his ear: Is she trying to manipulate you, use your attraction to her to get what she wants? Though he told himself Percy was not capable of such underhandedness, his jaw tightened.
"I am not," he said flatly.
"Can you tell me why? It's not only about the money, is it?" Her eyes searched his. "Gavin, I just want to understand ..."
He dragged a hand through his hair. Mayhap trust was possible for him after all, for he believed her sincere intentions. A small part of him even considered telling her about the past; the wiser and larger remainder balked at the notion. Her ties to Nicholas Morgan were too strong, her bond to Gavin too tenuous. When it came down to choosing, at this juncture he knew where her loyalties would lie. He would not risk losing her or compromising his well-laid plan for revenge.
"I always collect my debts. That will not change," he said.
I do not know how to make it change.
For a minute, she said nothing. Sudden panic gripped him. Would she walk away? Leave him to his own devices? Anger followed swiftly. Like hell she would. He'd never let her go—
"Well, I'm not going to forfeit either," she said, popping a button free on his waistcoat.
Relief and desire spun his head. "So where does that leave us?" he rasped.
She slid another button free. "At a standstill in the matter of my virginity. However, according to the terms of your truce, there is much else to explore. And I want to." Her tremulous smile curled in his chest. "I want to make the most of the next three nights with you, Gavin—"
He didn't let her finish. He couldn't.
With a growl of pure need, he captured her lips. She tasted of nectar and sunshine, everything he'd ever hungered for. And she yielded her sweetness so readily. Her lips parted, her tongue welcoming him inside her warmth. Nothing in his life had come without a struggle, a price. Yet Percy, who had every reason to distrust him, to despise him, was offering him her luscious self. Did she know what a gift that was?
He backed her against one of the poles of the gazebo, his mouth coursing greedily along her neck. With possessive hands, he cupped her breasts, finding the stiff peaks beneath the fabric. "You were made for loving, Percy," he said, "and I'm going to show you just how much."
She gave a little sigh of pleasure. "Like you did the last time?"
"Liked that, did you?"
"Very much so." She smiled up at him shyly. "It felt so wonderful, only ... "
Only? His brows raised. "You shuddered in my arms when you came for me."
"Oh no, that part was perfect." Even in the moonlight, he could see roses in her cheeks. "It's just that this time ... well, I was wondering ..."
"Yes?"
"If I could ... return the favor?"
Her earnest request blazed heat straight to his groin. His prick throbbed with the unqualified answer, his balls drawing taut. Holy hell, could she. But she was a virgin. Even though he was no gentleman, he'd thought to ease her into the business of lovemaking. To make her comfortable with her own response first before introducing her to—
Her hand feathered across his crotch, and all his good intentions vanished.
"Do you want to touch me, sweet?" he said hoarsely.
Her curls wobbled as she nodded.
Praise God. With hands that shook slightly, he undid the fasteners of his trousers and shoved the layers of fabric past his hips. His cock sprang free, the shaft thick and upright, the flared crown brushing his abdomen. Below the jutting instrument, his stones hung heavy and swollen with seed. He watched her intently, wondering what his little miss thought of his rampant erection.
"Oh." Her eyes were wide and curious. "It's, um, rather forthright, isn't it?"
Beneath her scrutiny, the randy monster swelled further.
"It gets that way around you, sweetheart," he said wryly.
Despite the desire straining every muscle, he forced himself to wait. To let her decide what she wished to do. When she gently curled her hand around him, his breath hissed between his teeth. The sight of her delicate, satin-covered fingers petting the dark, rearing beast was beyond erotic. She explored him with a torturously light touch, the pressure nowhere near enough, and yet pleasure shot to his toes, hotter than anything he'd experienced before.
"How am I doing?" She sounded as breathless as he felt.
He answered her with a ravenous kiss. "You, my sweet Persephone, are heaven and hell," he whispered against her lips.
Her forefinger dipped against his cock slit, rubbing gently and sending another blast of heat through his veins. "Heaven and hell?" she said. "What does that mean?"
"Let me show you." He drew up her skirts, nudging her thighs open with his own. He found her pussy through her drawers and groaned at the dampness of her flesh. "You're drenched for me already. Does it excite you, touching my cock?"
Biting her lip, she nodded. Her grip on his pulsing rod tightened.
The admission filled him with heady triumph. "That pleases me," he said. "It makes me big and hard and yearn to be inside this sweet part of you." He slid his middle finger down her lush slit, finding her opening. He pushed upward and her virginal muscles gave a little, clamping onto the very tip of his finger. By God, she was tight. His lungs worked harshly as he strove to hold onto his self-control. "I want to bury my cock inside. I want to be as deep inside you as possible ... and I can't. That is hell."
"Gavin," she whimpered.
The sound of her voice saying his name burned through his blood like an aphrodisiac. Whether or not she was aware, she'd begun to squeeze his shaft more tightly, pumping him in the instinctual motion.
"Good girl, you know just how to frig me, don't you?" Her lashes gave a sultry sweep at his guttural praise. Simultaneously, he penetrated her quim more deeply. "This is how we're going to find heaven together. What feels good to you feels good for me. When you hold my cock so sweetly, it tells me what you want, doesn't it?"
He saw understanding enter her expressive eyes. The next instant, her satiny fingers began to slide harder, faster against his turgid stalk.
"More," she sighed, devastating him. "I want more."
He drove his finger home, swallowing her cry as he did so. He fucked her slowly at first, then quickened the rhythm as her pussy softened, wept into his palm. He gave her another finger, and she took him eagerly, her plush heat whirling his senses, her grip wild and passionate upon his prick. He pumped himself into her soft hands, her exquisite sex, half-mad with the intensity of his lust. His longing. Pressure mounted in his stones, and he knew he couldn't hold back much longer.
He found the center of her pleasure with his thumb. Her response was instant, her sheath pulsing around his plunging digits, her hips angling to take him deeper.
"Oh Gavin, don't stop, please ..."
Her sex milked his fingers, so demanding and hungry. Too much, can't hold on. "Go over, Percy," he growled, "with me—"
Her body spasmed, the luscious pull dragging him over the edge. With her beautiful cries in his ears, he shut his eyes
against the fierce pleasure, the powerful release boiling up his shaft. He spent with a violence that robbed him of all control. Time slowed as he spewed hotly again and again, bellowing as ecstasy turned him inside out.
When he came to his senses, it was to find Percy gazing at him. Her hair was falling from its pins, and she held a stained glove to her heaving bosom. The stars in her eyes outshone those in the heavens above.
And, finally, he realized the danger he was in.
*****
Nicholas Morgan awoke in a strange bed. He yawned, blinking groggily at his surroundings. Another hotel room. Next to the bed, the large window was open, the curtains stirring in the warm breeze. He saw a field of red tiles lining the rooftops, and it all returned to him. Florence. They'd arrived early this morning. After the exhausting journey, Nurse had bundled the twins off for a nap, and Helena had decided the adults needed a lie down too.
Being an accommodating husband, he'd gone along with his better half. They hadn't gotten much sleep. As it turned out, vacationing made him randy as hell—and that was saying something, given that he couldn't keep his hands off his wife under normal circumstances. He raised himself up on one elbow, gazing down at his marchioness. Curled on her side, Helena dozed as peacefully as a little girl with her chestnut hair tangled and her delicate skin flushed.
Yet despite her innocent looks, his Helena was all woman. The sheet had slipped, revealing one round, plump breast. That ripe curve with its lovely pink crest was too much to resist.
Leaning over, he drew his tongue languidly around the nipple. It stiffened immediately, and he took his time licking, teasing it into a ripe berry. Though Helena's eyes remained closed, she shifted, a sigh escaping her. Enjoying the game, he explored beneath the sheet, his hand skimming over her plush backside before slipping between her thighs.
His heart sped up to find her deliciously, wantonly ready for him again. Positioning himself on his side, he took his turgid member in hand and ran the thick head along her slit. He savored her wetness, the sudden hitch in her breathing. He entered her in a slow, mind-melting thrust. Even as heat engulfed his senses, he told himself to draw out the bliss this go around. But then his naughty marchioness moaned, wriggling her bottom against him, and he had no choice but to give in, plowing her harder, needing to be deeper and deeper—
A series of raps sounded on the door.
Bloody fuck. He nipped his wife's ear. "Ignore it," he whispered.
"We can't just—ohh." She broke off as he nudged higher, finding her favorite spot.
The knocking continued. "Nicholas? Helena? Are you awake? 'Tis me, Anna."
"We'll be, er, just a moment," Helena called out breathlessly.
She wiggled away from him, and he let her go with a grunt. Scrambling from the bed, she donned a dressing gown and tossed him his. He put it on. Grimaced as he looked down at himself. "What the devil am I supposed to do about this?"
Helena's eyes widened at the sight of the tented brocade.
"Here, take this." She shoved a newspaper at him, clearly trying to smother a laugh. "Just, er, hold it in front."
He raised his gaze to the ceiling.
Helena went to the door and ushered in Anna Fines. Nicholas' lust faded when he saw the worry lining the older lady's soft features. Behind her spectacles, Anna's typically serene blue eyes held an apprehensive gleam. The last time he'd seen that particular expression had been when Jeremiah—Anna's husband and Nicholas' mentor—had fallen ill.
"What is the matter, dear?" Helena said, sounding as concerned as he felt.
"I'm so sorry to disturb you, but,"—Anna's lips trembled—"dear heaven, it's the children."
"The twins?" Helena said on a note of alarm.
"No, not your children. Mine." With a shaking hand, Anna held out a letter. "I'm afraid we must depart for London immediately."
TWENTY-TWO
Gavin placed his newly cleaned pistols upon his desk. They gleamed in readiness. Hearing footsteps in the hallway, he tossed a piece of black velvet over the weapons and rose to his greet his late night visitor.
Magnus shuffled into the study, his cane knocking hollowly against the floor. "Sorry to disturb you at this hour, Hunt."
"You have information for me?" Gavin said without ado.
"Aye. Found that gent of yours," the old man said. "Led me on a merry chase, Fines did. Turns out he's been hiding in Spitalfields."
Gavin had to give it to Percy's brother. Bloody Spitalfields, of all places. Ingenuity—and recklessness—must run in the bloodline.
"If you plan to take the cully, you'd best to do it soon," Magnus continued.
"Why?"
"Fines has gotten himself in debt to Finian O'Brien. As you and I both know, patience isn't one of O'Brien's virtues—from what I hear, he's circling like a shark." Magnus's rheumy eye blinked at Gavin. "You'd better get to Fines while there's any of the cove left."
Bloody fuck. Did Fines want to get himself killed? Two annoying facts struck Gavin at the same time. First off, though he now knew where Fines was, he couldn't collect the company shares because of his promise to Percy. Second, he'd probably have to protect her feckless fool of a brother because he was quite certain Percy wouldn't want Fines dead.
The irony of the situation dumbfounded him. More disconcerting was the realization of how much Percy's happiness mattered to him. Of how much he wanted her. The memory of her generous passion in the garden warmed his chest, made him ache to be near her. Though the return of her housekeeper had made it more difficult for her to slip out, she'd promised to meet him at the club this Friday.
A few days apart from her felt like bloody weeks.
"Thanks for the warning," he said to Magnus. "I'll attend to matters."
The old man gave him a worried look. "Has the Marquess of Harteford returned from abroad yet? You'll need a plan to deal with him. He considers Fines a brother, and from what I hear the marquess protects his own."
Gavin knew the hourglass was narrowing. According to his sources, Morgan had made an abrupt departure from Florence last week; the marquess would be back in England within a fortnight at most. Before that happened, Gavin must bind Percy to him, body and soul. He had to be certain of her love and loyalty to him; he had to know that she would choose him over Morgan, her family—anyone else. And carrying on with the wager—keeping her close, seducing her more and more with each meeting—was the way to achieve this goal.
"I'll take care of Harteford," Gavin said.
"Do you need my assistance ..." Magnus began when the door flung open.
Garbed in a black, many-caped greatcoat, Stewart looked even bigger and more intimidating than usual. He stalked over to Magnus, dwarfing the frail, older man.
"What's your business 'ere, you old goat?" he growled.
"I'm here to help Hunt, same as you," Magnus said in a calm voice.
"We don't need your help. Hunt's got me to watch 'is back." Stewart's chin jutted up. "Just as I always 'ave—isn't that right, lad?"
Stifling his impatience, Gavin said, "Magnus brought me news of Paul Fines."
"Took your time 'bout it, didn't you?" Stewart said to Magnus. "For the coin you charge, I'd expect be'er service."
"Fines was wilier than most. And I gave Hunt a decent rate ... as I always do." With dignity, Magnus adjusted the fraying lapels of his jacket and turned pointedly to Gavin. "I'll be on my way. Be in touch if you want my assistance with Harteford."
The instant the door closed behind the old man, Stewart burst out, "I don't like that codger, an' I trust 'im even less. You don't need 'is 'elp with Harteford. You've got me."
Hell's teeth. Gavin was not in the mood for one of his mentor's rants. "My business with Magnus is done," he said brusquely. "Is the carriage ready?"
"Aye. But I still—"
"For God's sake, man, let it lie." At his mentor's sullen expression, Gavin said gruffly, "I know you don't like Magnus, but he's been of use, alright? Now let's stop this shilly-shally
ing, shall we, and go catch ourselves a cutthroat."
*****
As he watched the hulking bawdy house with its shuttered windows, Gavin said, "What the hell is taking Lyon so long?"
"It ain't stamina, that's for sure," Stewart said from across the dark carriage. Thank God his mentor had recovered from the snit over Magnus—nothing like staking out a brothel to improve the man's mood. "The bastard's a lit cannon—can't 'old 'is liquor or 'is temper," Stewart went on, smirking. "If 'e lasts five minutes with a wench, I'd eat my topper."
Gavin observed the men going in and out of the bawdy house. According to Alfie's reconnaissance, Lyon visited Madame Antoinette's establishment every Thursday from ten to eleven in the evening to indulge in his particular brand of sport. It was one of the rare times Lyon went anywhere unaccompanied and, therefore, the perfect occasion to nab the bastard for questioning.
Percy's parting words in the garden echoed in Gavin's head. Whatever you do, you will be careful? I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. He'd clutched her close, reveling in her sweet concern for him, in all that had passed between them that night. More than sex play. More than he'd known with any woman. Reminded of the conundrum with her brother, Gavin frowned. What the devil was he going to do about Fines?
"It's nearing midnight. Lyon should have come out an hour ago," Stewart said.
Unease stirred, and Gavin set his thoughts aside to focus on the business at hand. "We've waited long enough. We'll have to go in."
In reply, Stewart slid a pistol into his greatcoat pocket.
After paying their entry fees, the two men crossed the threshold of the infamous brothel. Smoke made the air hazy, the rich scent of roses emanating decadence. Candles saturated the main room with a muted glow and cast shadows upon the gilded furnishings done in a vaguely French style. Well-dressed gentlemen mingled with wenches who wore candy-colored wigs, paint … and little else.
"I don't see 'im anywhere," Stewart said. "'E must be upstairs in one o' the rooms."
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