Page 14 of A Private Wager
There was no chance to respond. His arms closed around her, hauling her against the broad and very naked expanse of his chest. She had the quick impression of warmth and skin that was like velvet over steel. Then his lips were on hers, teasing and coaxing as he’d done before, and thought simply fled. It was all dizzying heat and the undeniable yearning to be closer to him still. Even when their bodies were pressed so firmly together not even air could pass between them, that was not close enough. The layers of her clothing were no longer protection but a hindrance.
Clinging to him, pressing herself against him, Lucy was swept up in the heat of his kiss, in the play of his lips over hers. And when his tongue swept into her mouth, a soft and sensual glide, she couldn’t stop the desperate moan that escaped her. How could anything feel so good? How could anything possibly rob her of every shred of dignity she possessed until she wanted nothing more than to twine her body around him and hold him as close to her as possible?
At some point, they shifted. He’d walked her backward until she was pressed against the wall, trapped there by his body. And that kiss shifted as well. It had started gently, but it changed into something darker, something more needful and dangerous. It was a clash of lips, teeth, and tongues. She was suffused with it, her skin flushing from it. The fabric of her nightrail brushed the taut peaks of her breasts, making that tender flesh ache with need for something she could not name. He nipped at her lips, his teeth scraping the full curve of her lower lip. Then his hands covered her breasts, his palms coasting over those curves in such a way that made her head spin and her breath hitch. His thumb circled one taut peak, eliciting a moan from her. Heat raced through her body, arrowing to the very center of her and then spreading outward.
“Lucy,” be breathed against her lips, a desperate plea. “If I am to stop, it must be now. A man only has so much control.”
She didn’t want it to stop. But she wasn’t certain she was ready for what came next. “I’m sorry.”
He laughed, a slightly pained sound. “God above, do not apologize. There is no greater pleasure than watching your passion ignite when I kiss you. Knowing that you desire my touch, after everything… It is something I am incredibly grateful for. But this is no place for the things I want to do with you.”
She had no notion what that meant, but she had to accept that his level of knowledge and experience made him morequalified to make that decision. “I… Yes, of course. We should go to bed. To sleep. We should sleep.”
He grinned down at her. “Have I told you that I find you utterly charming? My courtship might have been prompted by a wager, Lucy, but the attraction was there long before. When we danced at that ball so long ago, I wished that you were not an innocent that night—that you were the sort of woman whom I could tempt into a dalliance. Because I wanted you even then.”
Lucy said nothing. In her mind, she was transported back to that night when they had waltzed together. She’d felt it too. The strange attraction, the same heat, it had been there from the beginning.But she would never have thought he felt such a thing for her.After years and years of only ever being courted for her fortune, of having her father and stepmother bemoan her unfortunate figure and her unfashionable appearance, it had never occurred to her that someone would ever truly desire her. For that someone to be a man as beautiful as Viscount Harcourt was simply unimaginable.
He stepped back from her, his breathing labored and his gaze heated as it moved over her. “Get into the bed, Lucy. Pull the covers up and go to sleep. I will sit up for a while.”
“You must be tired,” she protested. “You have had a long day of traveling, as have I!”
His eyes glittered with something she could not name. “I am strangely invigorated, Lucy. And if I get into that bed with you right now, I assure you that neither of us will sleep.”
It was as much a promise as a warning. Lucy heeded it and moved quickly to the bed, sliding beneath the covers , all the while acknowledging her own cowardice.
***
The carriage had been easy enough to spot on the road. The viscount’s distinctive crest emblazoned on the doors marked it clearly enough. With the coin from the other gent heavy in hispocket, Ethan Maines settled into the stables to wait for the sun to come up. There were too many witnesses at the inn. Better to follow them on the road the following day, and then when they stopped for a rest, he’d see them both dead and claim the rest of his prize for the work.
He took no pleasure in killing and even less in the notion of killing a woman. But he did love money, and if he were to ever get back to London and out of the miserable countryside, then the debts he owed in that city would have to be paid. It was a necessity, unpleasant and unavoidable.
As for the gentleman who’d hired him, whatever it was that had transpired between himself and viscount, there was true hatred there. The man had no compunction about ordering the death of the newly married couple. In fact, he’d seemed almost gleeful at the prospect. So long as his lack of honor didn’t extend to a refusal to pay his debts, however, it was of no matter.
Settling into the bed of straw that would be his bower for the night, he fell into the light sleep of an army man—what he had once been, and what, if he could gather the funds, he would be again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was just after dawn when Lucy awoke. For the longest time, she’d lain awake, huddled beneath the covers, pretending to sleep, while her husband rested in a chair before the fire. But the wasn’t her husband yet, not fully, at any rate. He would not be until their marriage was consummated. And that thought took her right back to the moment of their kiss the night before—and his touch. She knew that men had an obsession with breasts. Given her abundant figure, she’d suffered impertinent glances enough to know it without question. But it had never occurred to her that she might benefit from that obsession in some way. The pleasure it had brought her, and the yearning it had awakened inside her, was not something she could have anticipated.
“Good morning.”
He was already up, dressed, and ready for the day. She had to wonder if he had slept at all. “How did you know I was awake?”
He chuckled softly. “You think very loudly. And you snore, very softly, but still.”
Mortification had her bolting upright in the bed. Somehow, during the night, her wrapper had become untied and her nightrail had shifted. It dipped dangerously low in front, revealing an expanse of flesh that she would not normally display. Hastily, she grabbed at the covers. “I most certainly do not!”
“You do. It’s charming,” he said, but there was a tightness in his tone and a fire in his eyes. “Now, I will go downstairs and see about procuring us something with which to break our fast. While I am gone, you should dress. If we get an early start, we can be at Stonecrest before noon.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “I will make myself ready.”
He nodded then turned on his heel and made for the door.
As soon as the door shut behind him, she rose and discarded her wrapper and nightdress. Clad only in her chemise, she struggled into her stays and stockings before once more donning her traveling gown. Once she was decent, she began to tackle the mess of her hair. She’d left it pinned up from the day before, and now it was a tangled mass of knots. With the brush from her traveling case, she set to work on it and then put it in a simple braid. As thick as it was, and without her maid’s assistance, that was the best she could do on her own.
She had just completed the task when the door opened once more and the viscount returned. War. That was what others called him. “My lord, I am almost ready,” she explained as she hastily returned her items to her traveling case.
“I am your husband. Surely we can dispense with such formality, Lucy.”
