by A. W. Exley
“Oh, I could show you all sorts of games.” He placed a hand on her hip and pulled her tighter against him, leaving her in no doubt of his solid arousal. “Just let me conclude this game before we start another.”
She feigned a pout and moved off his lap. Leaning on the table, she pressed on the cards hidden by the folds of her bustle. Nate’s eyes burned into her back and heat scorched through their bond. She dared not turn to explain her actions, not until they played the last round.
“One card,” Loki called to the dealer, a smirk on his full lips. He dropped one card and slid it across the table top. He picked up the new card and regarded his options thoughtfully, one hand falling to his side and into his pocket. His fingers made a jerking action and he shot his eyes to Cara. His gaze narrowed and his digits worked within the fabric of his vest.
“Time to show your hands, gentlemen,” the dealer called.
Loki’s fingers fumbled for a moment longer with the lining of his pocket before he swore.
Cara blew him a kiss. “You’ll have to play the hand you were dealt,” she said under her breath, so only the two of them could hear.
He shook his head, and then laughed. “Well played, little one.” He fanned out the cards, two aces, two eights and a seven.
Cara turned to see Nate lay out his hand of two queens and three tens. His full house beating Loki’s two of a kind. Reaching out a hand to the centre of the table, she picked up the enormous diamond, rainbow sparks flying, as the overhead light caught and danced over the cut surface.
“Nice doing business with you, Loki. Enjoy your evenings with the Ice Queen, and watch you don’t lose something important to frost bite.”
ou’re breaking my heart.” He clutched his chest and gave her a puppy dog look. “Sure you won’t join us? The Ice Queen and the Fire Princess, you’d be quite a combination. It would be like rushing from the sauna to roll in the snow before seeking lush heat again.”
She patted his metal cheek affectionately. She did have a soft spot for the incorrigible rogue. “Nice try. But no, I’ve played this game to its end.”
Nate gave a curt nod to his opponent before placing a hand in the small of Cara’s back. He ushered her through the mass of bodies seeking escape and out a smaller side door. His face was a cold mask and his few words to her perfunctory and clipped. Another little boat conveyed them back through the darkened tunnels and up to the streets of London.
She chewed her lip all the way back to the mansion, wondering what ate at him.
He can’t be this upset about winning a hand of cards, but surely it’s not about me sitting on Loki’s lap?
Twice on the ride home Cara tried to tell Nate about Loki’s tactics to win the game, but one icy glare from him froze the words on her lips. Anger bounced around the carriage and wrapped itself around Nate.
He waited to hand her down from the carriage before striding up the front steps alone. Inside, he took the stairs two at a time. His mood was a palpable black cloud that enveloped him and had to move fast to hold its position around him.
Cara trailed behind and ascended the stairs at a snail’s pace, trying to figure what had gone so catastrophically wrong during the evening. Her mind couldn’t comprehend the possibility of him being jealous for there was nothing to be jealous about. By the time she made it to the bedroom, Nate had already discarded his shoes and jacket, and was pulling at his cravat with clawed fingers.
She watched his short, sharp movements. “You’re going to have to throw me a clue,” she said, removing the emerald drops from her ears and placing them on the bedside table.
His eyes flashed to her and a black eyebrow rose. “About what?” He tossed the cravat over the back of a chair, and pulled the diamond cufflinks securing the ends of his sleeves.
“What exactly I did that resulted in you acting like I cancelled Christmas.” She unlaced her boots and drew them from her feet.
He exhaled a rough breath and spoke through gritted teeth. “I thought I was at fault. You must be terribly disappointed to be coming home with me.”
Her fingers worked at the tiny buttons holding her skirt closed and the taffeta pooled around her feet when she let it drop. She looked up with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”
Nate drew his shirt over his head, balled up the fabric, and tossed it with the other discarded clothing. “You were rubbing yourself against Loki like a cat in heat. You must have been disappointed when I won the hand.”
Words rose in Cara’s throat and she swallowed them back down as she struggled to think while her gaze fixated on his muscular torso. His suggestion was so ludicrous, her brain ignored it. Instead her mind took a detour, thinking about running her tongue down the indent separating his abdominal muscles, knowing it would make him shudder and lose his train of thought. She shook her head and took another breath before responding. Her hands stopped pulling at her corset laces, letting the ribbon dangle, barely holding the garment to her body.
“Do you think so little of me?” she asked in a quiet voice.
His square jaw was tight as he regarded her, his blue eyes darkening with his rage to stormy seas. “What other explanation do you have for riding him like a carousel horse in front of me?”
Cara sucked in a tight breath at his accusation. She didn’t have to ask what he thought she used as the pole. She reached behind her leg and pulled the cards from their hiding place in the top of her stocking. She threw them at his feet. They landed face side up, the Ace of Hearts, Ace of Spades, and the laughing Joker.
“Tell me, if Loki played those cards that were hidden in his pocket, how would the game have changed?” It was a rhetoric question. Loki would have held five aces, an unbeatable hand.
His gaze flashed from the fallen cards to Cara and back again, his jaw grinding back and forth. “He intended to cheat.” Realisation dawned. “You distracted him to steal the cards.” He held himself coiled, unable to relax yet. An unanswered question burned a path of doubt through his confidence exterior. “You don’t desire him?”
She gave a huff of laughter and raised a finger to tap her chest. “Despite you being an arrogant, dangerous, pig-headed man, I love you. Our hearts are bound. I can’t conceal anything from you. You only have to look inside for the answer.”
He closed his eyes and Cara felt his touch along the bond, an internal caress as he sought the truth. Slivers brushed around her as she opened herself and gave him the most intimate glimpse of her mind and heart. His eyes flung open and he crossed the gap between them in three easy strides. He pulled Cara into his arms and claimed her mouth with a desperate hunger. His lips were strong and possessive, his tongue sliding into her as though he tried to touch her soul over her teeth. She moaned against him. His hunger rippled through her body as his desire fuelled her already intense need for him.
He pushed her back against the wall and used his hips to hold her in place. With one of his large thighs between her legs, he pinned her. His fingers finished the job she had started, and pulled the ribbon free of her corset. Tugging the garment off her shoulders, he dropped it to the floor leaving her with only stockings and knickers.
She gave a soft cry at the flash of electricity as skin met skin, and need flared higher. Her nails ran over his back as she urged him closer.
His hands slipped down to the back of her knees and he lifted her legs over his hips, fitting himself into the vee of her thighs. Cara laced her ankles behind his back and Nate rocked his hips against her, pressing her to the wall and as he took her mouth again. His tongue thrust and slid as his hips rolled against her.
She bit his bottom lip, her need escalating with the molten longing coursing along her limbs. Through their bond pulsed his desperate need to claim her, to mark her, so no other man could take her from him. A shiver ran over her skin and the ache at her centre grew, even as Nate rubbed his shaft against her sensitised flesh.
He gave a growl against her lips and carried her to the bed, laying her back on the coverlet. His wa
rmth disappeared as he stood to pull his pants over his hips. She admired his naked form from behind half closed eyes. A faint line of dark hair ran from his lower stomach to his erection. She reached out a hand to grasp him. He was velvet heat under her palm as she slid her hand up and down his hard shaft. He groaned and leaned his hips into her caress. Her fingers encircled him as far as possible, stroking up and down. She marvelled at the silk wrapped iron under her touch.
He pulled away to kneel in front of her, dipping his head to kiss her inner thigh. A moan escaped her lips as his sure tongue stroked laps from stocking to the crease of her thigh. The argument long forgotten, her mind filled only with her need for him and the swirling desire pulling her under. She fisted the sheets, her hands clenched in the cotton when he probed her through the silk of her knickers. Hot fingers unclipped the stockings from the garter belt and drew it from around her hips. His hands slid into her knickers and caressed her buttocks. Taking his time, he pushed the fabric down her body and free of her feet, leaving her exposed to his gaze and hunger.
Her back arched off the bed, her breathing coming in short gasps as he knelt between her thighs. He lowered himself, caging her with his arms and his weight as he gazed at her, seeking confirmation in her eyes that she belonged to him. She was so close, their need so intense. She ground her pelvis against him, eager to find her release if he was going to torment her. The pulsing ache threatened to overwhelm her.
“Not without me,” he murmured against her lips. He angled his hips and with one thrust, possessed her. Her body stretched to take him as he replaced the ache deep inside her with hot flesh. A shudder ran up his arms, as she locked her legs around his hips, holding him close.
The wave built inside her, pushing her closer to the edge. Sparks flew behind her closed eyelids. Her world consisted only of Nate, his weight, and the movement of their bodies.
“Only me,” he breathed hotly against her skin. He bit at the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder joined, nipping the skin. “Promise me, it will only ever be me, no one else.”
He closed his mouth on her pulse and he sank his teeth into her as he thrust deep. The sharp flash of pain was the spark that ignited her body.
“Only you,” she cried before the orgasm slammed through her body and her mind splintered with pleasure. Nate’s release tore through him with a roar. She rode the aftershocks that rippled through her flesh with each spasm as he collapsed onto the bed and rolled her securely into his arms.
Dawn peered around the edge of the damask curtains where the two sides didn’t quite meet. A thin sliver of light trailed across the floor, reaching out to the large four poster bed. Nate’s arms encircled Cara as she lay with her head resting on his shoulder. Her hand drew lazy patterns over his forearm wrapped tight around her. Their two bodies joined, his shaft still buried deep inside her from his early morning loving. She had awoken to the delicious feel of his hard body behind her and his hands roaming over her skin as he stroked waves of languid pleasure inside her. A sigh of contentment escaped her throat. She had never felt so protected, desired, and safe.
His lips grazed her ear lobe. “I love you,” he murmured. “Be my wife.”
Cara lay immobile, basking in the moment of hearing the words from his lips for the first time. Then a snort of laughter welled up in her chest and burst free.
Nate froze for a moment before he rolled her in his arms. He pushed her under him, pressed her back into the mattress, and trapped with his weight on top. He seized her hands and trapped them either side of her head. Deep blue eyes held her gaze. “Did you just laugh at my declaration of love and marriage proposal? Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?”
“No. Yes.” She laughed. “Be my wife,” she mimicked his husky tone. “Not exactly the world’s most romantic proposal.” She arched her body, hoping to distract him when her breasts brushed against his chest.
He sucked in a breath. “Don’t distract me, wench.” He took both her hands in one of his larger ones and raised himself onto his elbow.
She stuck out her lower lip in a pout as she lost his heat and weight. Her body demanded skin contact, and she didn’t like him holding himself apart from her.
“It wasn’t a proposal. I can’t ask you to marry me.” He drew himself up onto his knees, straddling her narrow waist as she sought to distract him by rubbing lower. “I want you to be my wife.”
A frown crossed her forehead. His words started to sink in, her body paused in its constant quest to be pressed against his broad chest, or any other part of him she could reach. “Explain the difference to me. Have you got a viscountess tucked away somewhere?”
“It’s complicated.” He released her hands, drawing his knuckles down the side of her face in a tender gesture. “You’re already married.”
Cara tried to laugh it off and a retort welled up on her throat, but something in Nate’s intense gaze strangled the words before she could utter them. “Oh lordy,” she whispered as a heavy lump settled in her gut. “What do you know?”
He rolled off her, lay on his back, and let out a long sigh.
Cara leaned over him, her hands pressed over his chest. “You have to tell me, Nate. What is it?”
He ran a hand up over the nape of her neck and massaged her scalp. She leaned into his touch, waiting for him to gather his thoughts. “Three years ago I was on an airship from London to New York. It was a commercial line, not one of mine. I was toying with moving from cargo to passengers and wanted to gauge how successful the runs were.” He dropped his hand to capture hers, resting his palm over the top of her knuckles.
“On the same ship was a woman I had encountered seven years previously. I last saw her as a child, up a tree in Hyde Park, raining acorns down on her governess. Now she was all grown up. She was tall and lithe, but with curves that made me want to strip her bare and explore every inch of silken skin with my fingers, lips, and tongue. Her beautiful face was highlighted by short auburn hair that danced like contained firelight. She had hazel eyes that remind me of the sultry hidden depths of earth and trees.
“A male passenger decided a beautiful, young woman travelling on her own must be easy game. She taught him otherwise. He accosted her out on the observation deck, thinking to steal a kiss and lift her skirts to press his hands lower. She drew two knives and would have tossed him over the railing if another passenger hadn’t intervened.”
“You really have a habit of spying on me at inconvenient moments.”
He stroked the hair from her face and gazed at her with such open longing, the words dried up in Cara’s throat.
“I realised the kitten I saw that day in London had grown into a spirited and passionate woman. And I wanted her, whatever the price. I didn’t want anyone else to touch her.”
Her breath hitched. Viscount Lyons was a man who got what he wanted. He rained kisses on her face, covering her eyelids, her cheeks, and finally her lips. He kissed her lightly, brushing his mouth over hers before releasing her.
“Oh Nate, what have you done?” The lump in her gut transformed into full on dread.
“Get dressed. We’ll finish the story downstairs. I have to show you something.”
Wordlessly, she rose and padded through the bathroom to the other bedroom. She drew on buckskin pants, a short chemise, and a corset before heading barefoot downstairs. The house was silent; no sign of the other men yet, but now Nate was awake, they would materialise as though they stepped from the woodwork.
Nate drew back the study curtains, but the shaft of morning sunlight couldn’t dislodge the cold fear in Cara’s stomach.
ara stood in the middle of the study, her toes digging into the carpet. She wrapped her arms around her torso, waiting for Nate to resume his tale. Foreboding crept under her skin, and she rubbed her flesh, trying to banish the sensation.
Nate ran a hand over his head. His attempt to push back hair too short to be in his face was the only betrayal of his nerves. “I need to show you. I suspect yo
u are going to demand proof from me of this story.” He stood before a painting of a young woman with lush red lips, a vivid blue headscarf, and a tear drop pearl earring. He lifted the priceless painting from the wall and revealed the iron door of the safe behind. He laid the artwork on the ground, propped up against the panelled wall before returning his attention to the safe.
His long fingers spun the numbers on the dial back and forth in rapid successful. A loud click came as the tumblers all aligned and released the mechanism. He swung the heavy safe door open, revealing a compartment with neat piles of bank notes, velvet bags with draw string tops, and folders of documents. He brushed the contents aside and reached toward the back of the safe. His fingers pressed the cold metal in the exact right spot and the back of the safe slid upward to disappear into a hidden cavity.
“A safe within a safe?” Cara stepped closer, her curiosity rising to the surface for a moment. “Ingenious.”
Nate extracted a slim, beige cardboard folder and pushed on the ceiling of the first safe. He activated a lever which dropped the second door, sealing the hidden safe. He carried the folder to his desk and opened the cover. He extracted two documents and laid them out for Cara to read. A small black velvet pouch was taped to the inside of the heavy cardboard. He pulled the bag free and undid the ribbon holding it shut, and then upended the contents over one of the documents. Out tumbled two rings, one smaller than the other, and they nestled side by side on the documents as though unwilling to be separated.
The two bands drew Cara’s attention first. They were identical except in size. Made of three types of gold: white, yellow and rose. They were intricate filigree Celtic love knots, each ring an endless circle of love and commitment.
The lump in her gut shifted as she slid the first document from under the rings. The entire page was covered in tightly written legalise. She flicked to the bottom and the two large, expressive, signatures: Viscount Lyons and Lord Devon.