The feather hovered beside her smiling mouth. “Where next?” she asked in soft sultry tones.
His shaft pulsed. “Do I get to choose?”
She shook her head slowly. The feather disappeared. He tensed.
Nothing.
If he distracted her, she might forget her intent to torment him. He nuzzled into her neck, sucking and nipping.
The feather slid down his side. A wild teasing sensation that made his skin flicker and jump. He groaned at the provoking sensation. She stroked again, goading him to action.
He caught her breast in one hand, feeling the smooth skin and the fullness in his palm, the hardened nub at the peak. He bent his head to catch it in his lips, to swirl and stroke with his tongue, imitating the brush of the feather along his ribs and across his buttocks.
She squirmed beneath him.
Revenge was all the sweeter when it gave pleasure.
She cried out.
Her hands grasped his rear, her hips rocked against him while he licked and savoured and suckled at her breasts. Wildly he thrust deep inside her, again and again. No thought but to bring her fulfillment and reach his own.
With each hard pounding thrust, she lifted her hips to meet him. His blood pounded in his ears. His mind emptied of all but the feel of her around him, the urge to conquer and possess all-consuming.
Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging at his scalp until the pain mingled with the pleasure and his hips pumped faster and faster.
The shattering cry of her climax released him from the bonds of earth. He exploded in a burst of heat. Bliss sent him spiraling blindly and he lay against her breathing hard into her silky hair.
Never had he fallen apart so hard or so fast.
He collapsed alongside her and pulled her against his chest. Who would have guessed this shy yet passionate woman would beat him at his own game?
He felt pleased.
Deep languid breaths caressed his chest and contentment filled every part of his being with unbounded joy. He wanted to leap off the bed and whirl her around. Shout like some youth newly bedded.
When the thud of his heart had slowed enough to allow for breathing, he kissed her forehead and the tip of her small nose. “Rest.”
Her body went lax against his and for a while they lay dozing in each other’s arms. A tickle on his shoulder made him glance down at the feather trailing across his collarbone.
Propping himself up on one elbow, he took it from her hand and tossed it away. She was the loveliest, most exciting lover he’d ever known. As he looked into those gold-tinged eyes, the urge to claim her permanently fired his blood. A mad yearning to give her all he possessed consumed his instincts.
The thought shook him to his soul.
He touched the edge of the mask where it skimmed her cheekbone. “May I not see your face?” he whispered.
Dark shadows swirled in her amber gaze. For a long moment he thought she would refuse. Deep inside, he knew if he did not remove her mask, the mystery of what she looked like would haunt him forever.
Hesitantly her hand went to the strings.
Relief warred with fear of disillusionment. “Let me,” he murmured. “Please.”
A fleeting smile curved her lips and her hand fell away. “As you will.”
Breathless as a young lad opening a package, he untied the bow. Carefully, he lifted the silk away and gazed on the loveliest face he had ever seen.
High cheekbones, brandy-colored eyes that tilted at the corners beneath softly arched brows, long, soft, gold-tipped lashes framed the catlike eyes. Her burnished hair parted in the centre revealed an intelligent brow.
“A goddess, in truth,” he breathed.
A startled expression crossed her face. “Flattery indeed.”
Charmingly modest and not a simper in sight. Refreshing. Unnerving. “Who are you?”
Her gaze slid away. “No one, your grace.”
A lie. She was protecting herself. From him. A painful realization, but understandable given his dissipated past. For the first time in a long time, he wished he had taken a different fork in the path of life.
“You are not no one to me,” he said. His mind reeled at the admission even as the deeper part of him recognized it as true. He grazed her jaw with a fingertip. “It would please me greatly if you would call me Alistair.”
A thoughtful expression crossed her face. A weighing of the pros and cons of his request. “Very well, Alistair.”
The sound of his given name on her lips pleased him. “Now you know my name, will you not trust me with yours?”
She winced. “My family must never learn of my presence here tonight.”
“They won’t hear it from me, I assure you.”
A rueful smile curved her lips. “My name is Julia Partridge. My husband was a banker, but I was born Rivers.”
He kissed the lovely rounded tip of her shoulder. “Not the Rivers from Dorset?”
A faint tremor shook her body. He would have known the answer even if she had not spoken.
“A distant connection.”
“Delicious Julia not quite from Dorset, why are you here at all?”
She closed her eyes briefly and he wondered if she would fob him off with a tale of woe designed to play on his sympathy. A desperate hope she would tell him the truth caught his breath in his throat.
Why, he didn’t quite understand. It was none of his business. Theirs was a financial bargain. Knowing more was a complication better left alone. Why then did he feel the need to know everything about her when so very little awoke his interest?
Her gaze met his. “I made a mistake.”
Her voice wavered. A far cry from the confident wife of Zeus she’d played these past hours. The regret in her eyes made his chest ache. He kept his expression noncommittal. “A pretty large mistake, I assume.”
Pink infused her cheeks. Shame. Embarrassment. She turned her face away. She had no reason to trust him, so why did he feel the loss?
He cupped her cheek in his hand and brought her gaze back to his. “Tell me, Julia. I promise you have nothing to fear from me.”
A deep sigh escaped her lips. He felt it warm against his cheek. A sigh of surrender sweet enough to melt the edges of his chilly heart. A sensation so foreign to him it hurt.
“I stole a skein of lace and was caught,” she muttered, clearly embarrassed. “Mrs. Bentwhistle was present and offered her help. In exchange for one night under her roof, she would deal with the constable and the shopkeeper.” She shrugged. “She also promised me a share of the money I earned. It seemed like a good bargain.”
She was trying to sound bright, positive, as if it meant nothing, but he heard the edge of her pain like a knife grating on a whetstone.
Weary anger flowed through his veins. He let his head fall back against the pillow, looking up at the canopy to hide his dismay. “Mrs. B. must have thought her ship had come in. Why would you risk prison for a yard of frippery?”
She sat up, anger a bright flag on her cheeks. “Have you any idea what it is to go hungry?”
The accusation in her voice struck low in his gut. How could he judge when he would probably do much the same in her place. Which didn’t make it any less of a problem. “What about your family? Or that of your husband?”
Pride flashed in her eyes. “When my husband died, he left everything to his nephew. I would never ask for a penny. Nor will I be a burden on my family.”
Suspicion tightened his gut. “Your husband’s heir wanted something you were not prepared to give,” he hazarded.
She looked at him, her eyes bright with moisture. Tears held in check. “When I refused, he threw me out,” she said softly. “So I started making bonnets, but I ran out of money for trim when one of my customers didn’t pay me.” A small painful laugh broke in the middle. “I only needed a little lace.” A tear spilled over and ran down her cheek. She dashed it away with her fingers.
Hell, this was all much worse than he’d thought. H
e almost wanted to weep himself. The gift she’d given him was because she had no choice.
He cursed under his breath. Why hadn’t he acted on his better instincts and taken her home? Damn his dark soul. Yet. knowing her story, he still didn’t want to let her go. Not yet.
“I will have words with Mrs. B.,” he growled. “She took advantage.”
Her eyes widened in dismay. “No. Please. You must not. The money she promised is all I need. I do not want any more trouble.”
So naive. So trusting. Hell, she’d even trusted him with her name. How could she be such an innocent? Because gently bred females did not understand the ways of the world. Nor should they, when properly cared for by husbands and fathers. It seemed the duty fell to him, who had never cared for a female in his life. Or at least not since his father remarried. “Do you really believe Mrs. B. will let you go after tonight?”
She paled. “She cannot keep me here against my will.”
“Can she not? Do you think the shopkeeper could not be persuaded to give evidence against you tomorrow or the next day? Or the constable? Unless you agree to more nights within this house?”
Her eyes grew wide. “They wouldn’t.”
He said nothing. He didn’t need to. He could see the dawning realization in her face.
“What shall I do?”
“Leave. Now. With me. She will not dare kick up a fuss.”
“Leave without my money?”
“I will give you what you are owed. Consider it a gift of appreciation.”
She stared at him. “Have you not already paid?”
He shrugged.
“Then I would be under further obligation, only this time to you. I cannot.”
The horror in her expression touched an oddly painful place in his chest. He wanted to strike out against it. Instead, he offered her a reassuring smile. “No obligation, I swear. Trust me.”
Trust. His darker side laughed at the suggestion. It knew he still wanted her. It knew how easy it would be to take her under his protection, overwhelm her objections with his power. But something else inside him, something deeper, something he usually ignored, wanted her to come to him of her own free will.
Self-derision scoured his throat. This innocent yet brave young woman had no place in the life of the Dissolute Duke. He’d worn the mantle too long to ever shrug it off. He’d ruin her the way a rotten apple spoiled its neighbors in the barrel.
Nevertheless, even such a jaded soul as he had no choice but to help her out of her difficulties. She clearly didn’t deserve the fate awaiting her. She was too honorable. Too fine a woman.
She deserved the world at her feet.
A wild idea shot through his mind. A kind of madness.
Chapter Three
Julia watched him rise from the bed and go to the wardrobe holding their clothes. His body looked delicious. All muscle and bone. A broad back tapering to narrow flanks and firm rounded buttocks. Strong thighs and well-formed calves dusted with golden hair. Never had she seen such a beautiful male form. Not even on a statue. Why couldn’t her family have chosen a man like him for her to marry? He might be a dissolute rake and a duke, to boot, but he was kind and generous in bed, as well as deliciously handsome.
She sighed. Her refusal of his aid had obviously angered him and he was leaving. Surely he didn’t think she was naive enough to believe he wanted nothing in return? Every kindness had a price. The reason she’d vowed never again to trust anyone but herself. Although she seemed to have ended up in a fine mess without any help at all.
He pulled his coat from the cupboard. Her heart sank at the thought she would never see him again. As if she’d found something precious only to lose it right away.
If only she dared trust him.
Her heart raced at the thought of being beholden to this dark cynical man who clearly battled demons of his own. Over and over again, her faith in others had been shattered. She’d trusted her parents’ choice of a husband. Trusted in her brother’s help when he had none to give.
Why would this man be any different? Her heart told her he would do her no harm, while her mind denied the possibility and called her a fool.
To her surprise, he returned to the bed with a black velvet pouch in his hand. He leaned over and kissed her lips. “Let us play a new game, my sweet.”
The night wasn’t over after all, it seemed. She couldn’t help but be glad.
So foolish.
He hefted the bag in his hand. Its contents tinkled. She swallowed. “What is that?”
A teasing smile curled his lips. “Guess.”
She moistened her lips. “Chains?” Her husband had more than once played cruel games.
“Of a sort, I suppose.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to be tied.”
He frowned. “I swear I will do nothing you will not like.”
A stillness entered her body. Up to now he had been surprisingly kind, and certainly an unexpectedly wonderful lover, who had turned ruination into a night full of bliss. He’d given her unimaginable pleasure. Delight she’d never known existed between a man and a woman. And now he offered more.
Heat flared in his eyes.
Excitement at the prospect of something new, something daring, trickled through her veins. Hot little bursts of pleasure. “No pain. You promise?” she whispered.
“Never. On my honor.”
She did trust him. Her heart told her she could, and she relaxed as he pressed her back against the pillows, watching his strong capable fingers untie the strings. He emptied the contents on her stomach. Blood-red jewels spilled cold on her flesh.
A fortune in rubies.
Julia gasped at the cool weight on her heated skin. She raised herself on her elbows.
Not chains, but necklaces, bracelets, earrings, heavy gold set with enormous rubies. What on earth? She frowned at him. “What do you intend with these?”
His eyes gleamed wickedly. “Lie down and let me show you.”
What harm could it do? She sank back, but raised her head enough to watch him arrange a bracelet around each of her breasts. Cool metal against her skin. Her nipples tightened. He popped an earbob in her navel and another in the hollow of her throat.
The necklace he draped low on her stomach, from hip bone to hip bone, the triangular pattern of rubies glowed in the light of the candles and nestled among the crisp brown curls at the apex of her thighs. They looked pretty and felt cool and heavy against her heated flesh. Exceedingly sensual.
Arousing.
She could not believe that she felt this way again, in so short a time.
He stepped off the bed to admire his handiwork. Erect again. Because of the way she looked covered in rubies?
He glanced down at the flashing red jewels with an expression she could only describe as awe. “Never before have I seen them look so enticing,” he murmured. He fell to his knees beside the bed, his dark blond hair hiding his face as he traced the line of her collarbone with one finger, trailing it down the valley of her breasts.
A light brush of a caress which brought her skin alive. He lowered his head to kiss the place his fingers had touched, soothing, yet searing. Gazing down on his satiny-smooth back, she watched the muscles shift beneath the candlelight-gilded skin. She ran her hand across the breadth of it and marveled at its strength.
How sad she would be at the end of this night. Never again to experience his sensual touch or watch his beautiful body respond to hers. But at least he’d brought her the gift of pleasure she would always remember.
He licked one nipple within its circle of gems. A sweet ache pulsed low in her belly. Pleasurable little flutters of her inner muscles made her gasp for breath.
A low chuckle rumbled up from his chest. “You like that, don’t you, little one,” he murmured. He laved the other nipple with his tongue and cupped her with his hand.
The jewels down there pressed against her aching flesh. Like it? She adored the way he made her body come alive. She
was so glad she had not left when he gave her the chance. So very glad.
She had never known such utter delight. And he was a stranger she would never see again. Despite the thrills rippling through every part of her body, she could not drive away the ache of sadness in her heart.
He took her breast in his mouth and rotated his palm.
Her hips arched off the bed at the shock of pleasure. Waves of desire roared through her body. She cried out at the sweet pain of longing. Mindlessly, she speared her fingers in the dark gold mane of hair, encouraging him, thrusting her breasts upward into his mouth as liquid heat traveled along her veins, melting her limbs, leaving them languid.
The craving for release tightened wild and deep, leaving no thought for anything but gratification. Hers and his.
He groaned as her hands massaged his scalp, and rose from his knees to climb onto the bed and settle between her open thighs. She gazed up at his face and saw the haze of desire in his silvery eyes and an open smile of delight on his lips. The dark aura had gone.
She smiled and opened her arms to him.
He let his gaze drift down her body.
She followed his glance, at the blood-red and gold circles around her breasts, at the sparkling jewels at the apex of her thighs where his phallus rose between them, the shaft hard and ready, the dark head beading with his essence.
For her. Because this gorgeous man found her desirable.
Her insides contracted. “Alistair,” she gasped.
“What do you want, my sweet Julia,” he growled, as if talking was the hardest thing he had ever done.
“You. Inside me.” She couldn’t believe her boldness, but the soft smoky look in his eyes as she spoke told her she’d pleased him, and for the first time in her life, she felt in control. It was a wonderful feeling.
He took himself in his hand and guided his shaft to her entrance. She tilted her hips, lifting her legs around his waist.
“My lovely girl,” he breathed.
His. If only she could be his beyond this night. It wasn’t possible. But she was his for now and she would not let regrets spoil a single moment.
One Night as a Courtesan Page 4