She touched her stomach involuntarily, his harsh words a hammer blow to her heart. How foolish, really. She didn’t even know if she could bear children, and yet to hear Jonathan vow never to father a child affected her with fatalistic impact. She should be happy. Perhaps a future together would not be such an impossibility if the earl cared little for creating a family. Yet her heart twisted itself inside out, turbulent emotion the cause.
He turned then, his eyes piercing her with such intensity it was as if he looked into her soul and searched for peace. Then just as quickly his expression changed.
“I didn’t bring you here to bore you with maudlin tales.”
“Why did you bring me here?” She stepped closer, wanting to gauge his reaction and at the same time regain her equilibrium.
“I thought that was obvious.” He smiled, all evidence of earlier sorrow gone. “I intend to ravish you. I’m a despicable scoundrel, as you know. A wily fox too clever for the hunt. A reprehensible rakehell who preys on unsuspecting ladies foolish enough to trust my charming conversation and run away with me into the night.”
His self-proclaimed pride in reputation should have sent her sprinting toward the doorway, but instead a spike of intense pleasure spiraled through her.
“I’ve heard the same spoken of you. A man of many masks. So tonight, you are the fox who devours whoever crosses his path.” She met his eyes and did her best to flatten a sudden hint of smile.
“And yet you’re here anyway. Despite I’m not recommendable husband material.”
He leaned closer to whisper and his voice held a lovely calm to it. He knew exactly what he was about.
“Indeed I am looking for a husband.” She didn’t elaborate and turned away to walk toward the hearth and steady her nerves from his disarming charm. Instead, the heat of the flames aided the sparks of desire that simmered through her veins. She forced herself to focus on the painting above the mantel. Something about the work was familiar. Had her father made a point of showing it to her when they’d visited a gallery in Italy? But then, how was it here in Bedfordshire? Before she could decide, his voice drew her attention away.
“Would you like a glass of sherry?”
“No, thank you.”
He left off the sideboard and moved to stand beside her, his attention on the same artwork she’d studied moments before.
“It’s a priceless original. My father collected a series of paintings, interested in their value more than their composition. It was not unlike his bearing of a son. He needed an heir but took little pleasure from possessing one.”
“It’s a pity he was blind to the admirable qualities I see so readily.”
She detected surprise by the slight lift of his brow, but he did not reply. Instead he turned to face her, the space between them diminished to the width of an exhale, the air charged with a heavy undercurrent of desire.
“There is no need to gild my unsuitability. My father left me quite a legacy. His cruelty shaped me into the man I am today, wary to ever care too much, look too deeply, or dare to trust.”
“That isn’t true, Jonathan.”
He drew a long breath in answer, and she waited for him to elaborate, but when he remained silent she forged on. “So you perpetuate this charade, this uncaring character of roguish indifference?”
“Not a charade, more a distraction.” He stared into her eyes as he continued. “I would never ruin you, Caroline.” His words held a startling vehemence.
It was her turn to be surprised. Not for the words but the sincerity found in them.
“I know.” Her answer came out in a hushed whisper as longing winnowed through her.
Time stretched. His gaze dropped and he focused on her mouth. Her heart pounded in her chest. Still, she held her breath in wait. It was as if this single moment meant more than all the trifling conversations and amusing flirtations they’d perpetuated the last weeks. All the contrived coincidences and manufactured excuses, coy glances and tempting half-smiles, were insignificant compared to the way he viewed her now. His dark lashes lowered in sensual attention and the weight of his stare was unlike anything she’d experienced before. Decisions were being made silently as their hearts communicated. Mayhap their souls.
She played with fire. Even one ember of desire was too dangerous. And yet one tiny spark, small and insignificant, given enough air to breathe could create an inferno.
Would he not kiss her and allow her to breathe again?
Chapter Twenty-One
Emotion gripped him without warning. He wasn’t thinking, and yet he was never so sure in his decision. He stared into the sparkling blue depths of Caroline’s eyes and lowered his mouth to hers. Her breath caught, nothing more than a sigh of relief perhaps. But she melted into their joining, and the heat of her body matched his despite layers of inconvenient fabric separated them.
It was a claiming kiss.
An unspoken promise.
He needed to hold her.
Wanted to keep her.
Mine.
The word streaked through his brain, fierce and unyielding.
She might bandy about the idea she sought some other gentleman for husband, but lest she make that mistake he would kiss her into oblivion and remove any such illusion.
Caroline was his. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.
She opened beneath the subtle pressure of his mouth and that was all it took to release his barely constrained ardor. Their tongues touched, rubbed, tangled around each other in an erotic dance. He breathed deep and the delicate scent of orchids assailed him, causing his cock to grow hard in his breeches. He gathered her close, quick to lift her effortlessly and deposit her atop the overstuffed chaise near the corner of the hearth. She fit his body like a key in a lock. Perfectly formed to counterbalance and complete him, to open dark secrets he thought never to confront.
He shifted, lowering her gently so she aligned with the purfled pillows at her back, and then leaned in without breaking the hold of her eyes, sharp with curiosity and wonderous just the same.
He was done for.
Rubbish.
A besotted fool.
He’d tried to fight it and failed miserably. There was nothing more to be done, but so much more yet to do. Otherwise he’d go on wanting her forever.
He cupped her face in his palm, her cheek silky smooth, her ripe lips parted as if she couldn’t decide on what to say. Tilting her chin, he captured her mouth in a deep lingering kiss. She tasted like everything he wanted and never dared to allow himself. A share of happiness. A chance to begin again.
Possibility.
How foolish to think that when he had no choice at all. Heat pumped through him, scorching hot, firing his veins to settle in his groin where he grew harder still.
She set her hand upon his chest and the tremble of her fingers against his heart was his undoing. He shut his eyes and inhaled, summoning the courage to harness control.
Where to begin? Anywhere. Everywhere.
He nuzzled kisses down the length of her neck. Her soft-spoken murmurs of appreciation added tinder to his conquest. His mouth hungered to taste every inch of her, nip at her pale smooth skin and laze caresses to each of her full breasts. Her costume was composed of countless layers of gauzy fabric, so light and barely there he could feel every soft curve beneath with little effort.
She smoothed her hands inside his coat, her fingers outlining his tensed muscles as if she counted the ridges, hesitant at first but then more determined. Could it be she’d never touched a man’s body before? The idea gave him pause despite it instigated a surge of possessive pride.
He would be her first. The knowledge brought him considerable satisfaction despite it was a selfish irrational thought. Long from now, when he was gone and she lived a different life, she’d still have reason to remember him. If for no other reason than he was her
first.
He wanted her, all of her, still he’d never ruin her. He wasn’t so selfish as that. So then kissing would suffice. But as delightfully exquisite as it was, it could never temper the raging storm of desire licking at his heart, or quiet the one-word litany roaring through his brain.
Mine.
* * * *
Caroline closed her eyes and melted against the cushions in shameless invitation. Somewhere between him sweeping her from her feet and capturing her lips in a deep open-mouthed kiss, she’d abandoned all better sense and embraced reckless emotion. Her gown was no barrier to his heat, the delicious friction of his muscular thigh against her hip a forbidden yet enthralling pleasure. She dropped her head back and savored the rush of sensation he ignited with each caress. The sensual brush of his whiskers against her neck was a foreign pleasure-pain. How many liberties would she allow? She’d already compromised herself, her future, by slipping away into the night. But when it came to Lindsey, she found she hadn’t an ounce of resolve.
There was no denying he called to her heart, that the mere sight of his dark gaze and tempting smile left her undone. But what were his intentions beyond this moment? He composed a perplexing riddle and she refused to quit the solution, though her thinking grew increasingly more muddled.
He paused, and his exhale sent a shiver of anticipation skittering across her shoulder. Was he caught in the same half-mad musings, wanting the unthinkable and at the same time refusing to end their evening?
Still, this wasn’t something as elemental as physicality. She enjoyed his company, replayed their witty conversations, and pursued any opportunity to place herself in his path. She wasn’t so foolish not to realize they shared an attraction that went beyond the boundaries of the chaise where she now reclined. But what would become of it? If they progressed much further, their relationship would take a marked shift. She sensed his hesitation, his careful touches and restrained position.
Hadn’t she already reassured the earl she wanted his attention? Perhaps she would have to show him.
“Jonathan.” Her voice sounded tentative.
He exhaled deeply and murmured a response against her neck as he nuzzled another kiss, his thick hair tickling the underside of her jaw.
She smoothed her hands over his chest and up to his shoulders, forcing him to pull back and meet her eyes. His face looked severe, so tightly held, for a fleeting moment she wondered if he was angry with her for interrupting him.
But no. His expression immediately softened. Another breath and he appeared more at ease.
Deciding against words, she tugged at his cravat, her fingers as unsteady as her voice only moments before. She would show him this was her decision, and not his, to make.
He placed his hand over hers, ceasing the action. “I’ve braved more than I’d expected, forbidding myself from spoiling your beauty, but, love, there’s only so much I can endure.”
“So I’m not to touch you?” Even to her own ears her response sounded petulant. She bit her bottom lip, aware she played with fire. And too she saw that same acute awareness, not unlike a desperate longing in his eyes that likely matched her own.
“There are ways I can bring you pleasure that won’t ruin you, Caroline.” He searched her face as he spoke. “Would that suffice?”
His question prompted her to smile, and she thought to answer, but in that instant his mouth was already on hers in a hard hungry kiss that promised he told the truth. He broke away just as quickly, once again practicing control though his eyes held a wild gleam.
Under his avid attention, she reached for the ties at her neckline, loosening the ribbons that held it in place, the costume no match for her determination. He watched her fingers at work. Indecision quirked a wrinkle in his brow. And then he seemingly discarded whatever vow he’d made to himself.
Pushing away her hands, he slid her sleeves down and adjusted her position so she rested more firmly against the cushions, his body slanted over hers, a fierce look of carnal desire on his face.
He exhaled deeply, as if he tempered his ardor further, and then set to work lowering layer after layer of silk and linen until he reached her chemise. His gaze was heavy-lidded now, his jaw set tight before he lowered the fabric and brought his mouth to her breasts, first one, then the other.
And oh, the glory of the feelings he wrought, so sensitive and intense, more erotic than her wildest imaginings. Her nipples pebbled harder with each stroke of his tongue. The clever caress of his fingers as they cupped and stroked reduced her breathing to stilted sighs.
He pressed his thigh between her legs and she welcomed the heated strength. Inside, her awareness gathered and pulled, tugging at every point of sensitivity to settle lower at the exact place he pressured. She wriggled, wanting relief, and he grunted his approval, nudging his leg farther between hers.
The costume still surrounded them, each brush of gauzy tulle and lace accentuating sensation against her skin until a rush of cool air met her calves, the firm hold of his bare hand on her knee almost too much to bear as he collected fabric and pushed it aside, all the while never breaking contact. He teased her breasts, nipped her shoulders, and explored her mouth, his tongue after every secret she kept hidden.
He slid his hand higher to the tender flesh of her inner thigh and she quivered, all thought beyond irrepressible pleasure abandoned. His fingertips traced the edge of her stocking, a teasing graze that made her more impatient. She was wet and aching with want, all at once forgetting herself, lost to the Earl of Lindsey’s intoxicating charms. Anxious to fall headfirst into the abyss of potent pleasure he’d conjured with nothing more than a kiss.
He stroked a fingertip across the lacy opening of her pantalets and she nearly lifted off the cushion, aroused and alert, frantic for relief from the wanting. He chuckled against her neck, the deep throaty sound reverberating through her until he stroked again and the result skewered her in another pleasure rush.
“You’re so wet for me, Caroline. I want to drown in you, taste you, bring you to glorious climax. You’re so very lovely, and tonight you’re completely mine.”
She slid her hands through his hair and down to grasp his shoulders, anchoring herself and waiting. Wanting. She tensed with anticipation and again he stroked, featherlight, barely touching her skin. To her mortification she moaned in disappointment. It seemed no sooner than he began then he stopped, the fleeting pressure of his caress already gone.
“Again.” The word came out ragged and harsh, and she swallowed before she continued. “Please.” She clenched her eyes closed, too aware he watched her. When had she become so wanton? Her begging no better than every sin and accusation made of the earl. Her existence reduced to no other thought than the pursuit of relief.
“What is it you want from me, Caroline?”
Oh, he was a wicked, wicked man to force her to put it into words. To give voice to her fantasies and speak her darkest desires. She struggled for clarity from the haze of sensation, her breathing none too steady. Forcing her eyes open, she saw his held a devilish gleam that dared her to answer. “Touch me there again.”
“Like this, love?” He stroked slower and pressed his fingertips past the lacy edging of her underclothes to delve farther into her wet warmth.
“Yes.”
He found her mouth again and swallowed her answer, their tongues tight as he pressed his fingers to her core and rubbed, coaxing her to cry out, eyes clenched, as a shower of sparks danced behind her lids.
* * * *
Lindsey pulled Caroline into his arms as she reclaimed her composure. With her decorum and innocence, he’d never have predicted she’d display such uninhibited pleasure. He could barely wait for next time they—no. Foolish thought. He couldn’t allow it. Because next time, he would never be able to stop. As it was, his erection strained painfully inside his breeches, the opportunity for release all but impossible.
Somewhere buried within in him, a shred of conscience survived. He wouldn’t ruin her and abandon her, nor take her innocence and offer nothing in return. He couldn’t hurt her as his father misused and shamed his mother.
He knew his boundaries. Touching Caroline again and listening to those breathy little moans without stripping her bare and devouring every inch of her beautiful body was impossible. And he’d wouldn’t destroy what was never meant to be his.
She sighed against his chest and nestled closer. His heart, that traitorous organ, continued to pound and taut it was able to do more than pump blood through his veins. Caroline deserved someone without a broken history and complicated future. She deserved predictability, stability, and a domestic fellow who didn’t need to chase after stolen paintings in order to afford the most basic necessities for a secure future.
Barlow’s latest missive had turned the screws tighter, and a part of him wondered how far the solicitor would go in refusing funds. His father must have set exacting boundaries. Would the old duke and his grim man of affairs allow Lindsey to sink completely? The idea was debatable. His father had had no use for him in life and seemingly enjoyed the last laugh from his cold dark grave. He couldn’t expect Caroline to wait indefinitely while he sorted out the mess.
And where had that thought come from? He sounded the besotted fool. She wasn’t meant to be his, no matter his brain demanded he pay attention, that single word a mantra as loud as his heartbeat in his ears.
Mine.
What had he done to himself? He would go mad with wanting.
“Jonathan?”
He jerked to awareness as Caroline wriggled backward and set to work adjusting her gown. She hadn’t looked at him yet, and he wondered now if shyness claimed her. The idea amused. She would prove an amorous lover in the bedroom. A spike of bald jealousy caused him to clench his teeth.
London's Most Elusive Earl Page 20