A Wicked Way to Win an Earl (26 page)

Delia placed her hands flat against Alec's chest to steady herself and began to lower her body. “Oh.” She slid down onto him slowly, savoring every inch of his hard length as he entered her, amazed at the way her body stretched to take him inside.

“Ah, Delia, you feel incredible.” He gave one quick, involuntary thrust beneath her, but then he took a deep, shaky breath and his hips stilled. His skin became slick with sweat and his neck muscles corded with strain, but he remained motionless beneath her. “Take all the time you need, love.”

Delia felt a surge of pure feminine triumph as he panted beneath her, struggling to control himself as she fed him slowly the rest of the way inside her body. When he was buried deep inside her, she went still, watching him with half-closed eyes as he fought to keep from surging against her. Oh, it was wicked to tease him, wicked to be so terribly excited by her power over him, and yet, and yet . . . “Tell me what you want, Alec,” she whispered, running a finger around one of his nipples.

Alec made a strangled sound in his throat, half laugh, half groan. “Tease. You know
exactly
what I want.” He grasped her waist and lifted her above him until only the
head of his cock remained in her snug passage; then he pulled her back down onto him just as he thrust upward with his hips. His length surged into her, quick and hard, making her gasp. Again and again he thrust into her, setting a powerful rhythm she followed instinctively, riding down on him as he drove his hips upward against her. Delia closed her knees tightly around his waist, urging him to go faster, to plunge deeper.

“Jesus.
Delia
.” He gasped, arching his back. He parted her folds to tease at her delicate pink bud with his long, knowing fingers.

Delia felt the elusive bliss slide closer, and she knew she'd come for him again. “Ah, ah, ah,” she cried, writhing on him.

“Come for me, Delia,” Alec demanded breathlessly, his hips never ceasing their rhythm.

The waves of pleasure crashed over her again and again and she lost herself in them, arching and throwing her head back. Long tendrils of her hair brushed against Alec's thighs and the light caress made him wild. He thrust fiercely into her again, and then again. A harsh groan broke from his lips and his hands closed hard around her thighs as his release took him, his powerful body shuddering beneath her.

Gradually their breathing slowed. Delia stared down at Alec, dazed, stunned into silence by the intensity of their lovemaking. He didn't say a word, either, but gazed back up at her. She couldn't quite read his expression, but his dark eyes were so soft and warm, she was overwhelmed by an absurd urge to cry. She looked away and collapsed on top of him and pressed her face into his neck, her body boneless and slack.

Alec closed his arms around her. He lifted her carefully and settled her against his side, one hand easing her head to his chest. Delia's heavy eyelids closed.

When she awoke, she had no idea how long she'd slept, but the fire had died down and the first faintest fingers of
dawn had appeared in the night sky. Alec's body was warm and solid next to hers, his heartbeat reassuring in her ear. Delia remained as perfectly still as she could and closed her eyes tightly. If she didn't move and didn't open her eyes, maybe she could hold on to this moment a little longer.

But then Alec stirred beside her, and Delia's heart sank. She couldn't stop the sun from rising, or stop time, or put off the inevitable any longer. Alec would leave for London this morning, and she'd leave for Surrey, and the memory of this single glorious night with him would have to last her a lifetime.

“Shall we stay here all day?” Alec nibbled her neck, then leaned over and captured her lips with his in a brief kiss. “Let's order a bath,” he murmured coaxingly, his lips against her ear.

Delia shivered. “We can't, Alec. What if someone finds us here? Lily will be looking for me.” She raised herself onto her elbow, gazed down at him, and felt her heart constrict in her chest. She pressed her forehead to his and forced a smile. “No. You are for London, and I'm—”

“Damn London,” Alec interrupted, grinning up at her. “I've never felt less like going there. It's dirty and crowded.” He nuzzled against her. The dark beard sprouting on his face tickled her neck. “You're soft and warm, and you smell delicious.”

Delia giggled. “You're the Earl of Carlisle.” She poked him lightly in the chest with one finger. “The Earl of Carlisle is far too important to linger in bed all day.”

Alec captured her hand and pressed a kiss to the tip of her finger. “Is he? Very well, then. But earl or not, nothing could persuade me to leave here if I didn't know I would be with you again in a matter of hours at the London town house.”

Delia stared at him, speechless.
Of course
. He didn't realize she'd finalized her plans to leave for Surrey. He must
think she'd decided to accompany the family to London this morning. She opened her mouth to tell him the truth, but then closed it again.

Wasn't it better this way? Better if he didn't know? She didn't want to spoil these last precious moments with him, not after what they'd shared last night and this morning. She wanted to remember him as he was now, with his mischievous grin and his sleep-tousled hair and his warm, hard body wrapped around hers.

“Delia?” Alec looked into her eyes and his smile faded a little. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. It's just . . .” She cupped his face in her hand and stroked her thumb across his bristly cheekbone, committing the feel of his skin to memory. “I'll miss you.”

“You won't have time to miss me, love. I'll make sure of it.” He turned his face and pressed a hard kiss into the center of her palm. But he must have seen something in her eyes still, for he frowned and his brows drew together. “You trust me, don't you, Delia?”

Tears pressed against Delia's eyes and gathered in her throat, choking her. She needed to leave him, before she lost control. “Yes.” She touched her mouth to his, the kiss soft and sweet. Fleeting. “Yes, of course I do.”

Alec didn't have a poetic soul. A little Sir Walter Scott now and again was tolerable, but Blake was a madman and Byron a self-indulgent ass. Still, maybe he should have known it would all end in poetry. If he'd ever doubted the bard's genius before, he didn't anymore.

Love really did make fools of them all.

He would never have admitted it at the time, of course, but he hadn't known Delia for even a single day before he'd been moved to compose flowery verses about her in his head. He'd begun thinking in poems almost instantly. A smile tugged at his lips. Bad poems. Her lips were pink rose petals. Her eyes sparkled like blue fire. The golden strands in her hair outshone the sun. Her bosom was—

Alec shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. Well, never mind her bosom just now. There would be time enough for her bosom later. All the time in the world.

He'd arrived at the Mayfair town house after midday and stayed just long enough to change his clothes before leaving
again to conduct his business. It was a damp and blustery day and Alec usually found the ride from Bellwood to London tedious. He should have been in a foul temper by the time he arrived at the outskirts of town, but instead he was absurdly cheerful. The cold water dripping from his hat down his neck all day? Refreshing. The watery ale and bland stew served at the Leaping Hart Inn? Nectar and ambrosia. The mud flying from Ceres's huge hooves and splattering his Hessians? Well, Ceres was a fine, strong beast, and surely that was a good thing? He'd ridden many miles before he realized he'd been smiling the entire way. Anyone who passed him on the road would have thought him a fool. At best. At worst, they'd have thought he'd lost his wits.

Maybe he had, but he didn't give a damn.

Delia would have arrived in London by now. It was nearly five o'clock. The family had still been at Bellwood when he'd left this morning, but if they'd made even decent time . . . He was a besotted fool indeed, for it felt like years had passed since this morning, and the thought of seeing her now made his heart hammer with anticipation. He needed to make her his bride as soon as possible, because there was no way he'd be able to keep his hands off her over a long engagement.

Alec bounded up the steps to the town house. Rylands appeared at the door before he'd reached the top and Alec almost ran over him in his haste to get inside. “Rylands! Please send James out to see to Ceres.”

Rylands bowed and took the hat and gloves Alec thrust at him. “James is not yet returned from Surrey, sir, but Thomas can see to the horse.”

Alec was halfway across the entrance hall, but he froze at these words. An icy chill shot down his back. “What is James doing in Surrey?” he asked in deadly tones, turning slowly to face Rylands.

The butler blanched at the expression on his master's
face. “H-he's driving Miss Somerset t-to Guildford,” Rylands stammered, taking a hasty step backward.

Alec's heart, which had beat with such anticipation only moments ago, pulled in on itself as if wounded, like an open palm closing into a tight fist. It shriveled and contracted until a chasm so deep opened in his chest he feared it would devour him.

“Where is the countess?” His lips had gone so cold and stiff he was surprised the words emerged at all.

Rylands, usually so perfectly impassive, looked stricken. “The whole family and Miss Lily are i-in the drawing room.”

Alec turned on his heel without another word. Rylands hurried after him, Alec's gloves and hat still clenched in his hands. When Alec entered the drawing room, his mother looked up with a smile, but it faded the instant she saw his face. “My God, Alec,” she cried, going pale. “What's happened?”

“Delia has returned to Surrey. Why?”

Eleanor shot to her feet at the mention of Delia's name. Her hand fluttered nervously at her throat. “Alec—”

But Alec's eyes were fixed on Lily, who sat quietly in a chair in front of the fire, her hands clenched in her lap. “Why?”

Lily paused before answering. “She was needed at home,” she said after a moment, but she didn't meet his eyes.

Alec ran a shaking hand down his face. “She's needed here, damn you.
I
need her.”

Charlotte gasped at this, but Lily didn't spare her a glance. “I don't believe Delia thought so.” She looked directly at him this time. “She seemed to think any fleeting regard you had for her would not outlast the
ton
's contempt.”

Alec stared at Lily until she dropped her gaze. He was silent for a moment, and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Rylands, have Thomas saddle a horse for me. Not Ceres. A fresh one.”

“Alec!” Lady Carlisle cried. Her voice was shaking. “Where are you going?”

“Surrey.” He took his hat and gloves out of Rylands's slack fingers and left the room.

“Oh, thank God,” Eleanor breathed, collapsing back into her chair. Charlotte sat gaping at the place where Alec had stood just seconds before, stunned. Lily turned back toward the fire, but this time a small, satisfied smile appeared on her lips.

“Alec! Wait a moment.” Robyn followed Alec out of the room. He hadn't spoken a word during the entire exchange, but had kept his dark eyes fixed steadily on his brother. “Alec!”

Alec paused at the end of the hallway, his back to Robyn, waiting.

“It's true, then? You're in love with Delia?” Robyn asked.

Alec turned toward his brother, his face drawn. “Robyn. God knows I owe you an explanation. An apology, as well. I hope when I return, you'll allow me to give you both. But please, not now. I need to
go
—”

“Eleanor told me everything,” Robyn said, cutting him off. “She said you were in love with Delia.” He shook his head. “I didn't believe it at first. I'd begun to think you were a cold fish, brother. Ice in your veins. But your face, just now, when you walked into the drawing room? I've never seen you look so . . .” Robyn paused, then shook his head. “Well, I don't need any further explanation. You can apologize when you return. Who knows? I may even accept it.”

A deep sigh tore free from Alec's chest as if the great weight that suffocated him had lifted at last. For a moment the two brothers stood silently in the hallway, staring at each other with nearly identical dark eyes. “So it's true, then?” Robyn asked again after a moment. “You're in love with Delia?”

Alec looked his brother in the eyes. “Madly. Hopelessly.”

“Ah. Then there's nothing else for it. Go and get her.”

*   *   *

What a fool she was, to be sure.

Delia was bundled into the Sutherlands' coach, alone, on her way back to Surrey. Odd, how just two weeks ago all she'd wished for in the world was to return home. It was all she'd wanted.

Well, that was another lesson learned, she supposed. Be careful what you wish for, or you may just find out what it really means to
want
something. Or someone.

But she didn't want to think about that. Couldn't think about it. So instead she was thinking about young ladies. Young ladies and house parties.

Young ladies attended house parties all the time. These young ladies might dance, or play cards, or sketch or walk. Some of the more daring young ladies might even overindulge in punch and wake up in the morning with the headache, or flirt a touch more than was proper with an inappropriate gentleman. That was the worst of their sins.

But not her. Oh, no. That would be far too sensible. Nothing less would do for her than to go to Bellwood and seduce the lord of the manor. Then she had to fall madly in love with him, as well, and turn the entire house upside down in the process. It was lucky the house party had lasted only a fortnight. She shuddered to think of the damage she might have caused had it lasted a month. At least Bellwood was still standing.

She deserved her fate. To be in a coach on her way back to Surrey, minus one sister, minus her virtue, and missing such a large piece of her heart she was surprised it was able to beat at all.

What a fool she was, to be sure.

She gazed listlessly out the coach window, wondering without interest if she'd ever arrive home. They'd been waylaid in a tiny village outside of Horley when one of the coach horses had thrown a shoe. It had taken hours for James to find the blacksmith, and Delia had been obliged to wait for him at the inn. It wasn't much of a village. The inn, the Rose and something, or the Crown and something, she couldn't quite recall which, wasn't much of an inn, either. The esteemed patrons, all male, had eyed Delia as if they were undecided whether to steal her valise or assault her person first.

She hadn't been much interested in the outcome herself.

Alec would have arrived in London hours ago. He'd have discovered by now she wasn't there.

You trust me, don't you, Delia?

Her heart gave a miserable lurch. She hadn't wanted to deceive him. It hurt her to do it. But it was easier this way, and less painful for both of them. She couldn't have borne it if he'd made her empty promises out of some misplaced sense of duty, just because he thought he'd stolen her virtue. He'd never see the truth—that she'd simply
given
it to him. After a little time had passed, he'd realize it was better this way. Indeed, he'd likely feel a sense of relief. It wasn't as if he loved her, after all.

It wasn't as if he loved her.

Delia clenched her hands into fists. She
hadn't
made a mistake, leaving him, and she would
not
cry. She would not sit here in this coach and weep all the way to Guildford, for she'd known she'd be riding back to Surrey alone. She'd known how it would end.

What she hadn't known was how
alone
being alone would feel.

Yet how could she bring herself to regret making love to Alec? She closed her eyes and thought of his strong, sensuous hands stroking her, his face gilded by the firelight. His
voice whispering in her ear. The nearly unbearable pleasure of him as he moved inside her. She could never regret it. It had been the most glorious night of her life.

“Blast it,” she whispered weakly when the first tear snaked its way down her cheek. She needed to be at home. Now. She needed to lay her head on Hannah's shoulder and scold her younger sisters and sleep in her own room, even if it was lonely without Lily there. Was it asking too much of this blasted coach that it simply
get her home
?

That thought had no sooner crossed Delia's mind when, incredibly, she felt the coach begin to slow down. Impossible. Surely she was imagining it? She peered out the window. Deep dusk had descended and she couldn't see a thing, but the coach was indeed slowing down, and quickly. A second later Delia heard a distant shout and then James's voice coming from the driver's box, shouting something back. She couldn't make out what he said, but he sounded stunned. A few moments later the coach came to an abrupt stop.

A highwayman. Of course. Delia tried to work up the requisite terror, but the best she could do was a tepid sort of annoyance. She hoped he'd be quick about it. Perhaps if she explained she really was in a tearing hurry to get home . . .

The door to the coach flew open.

Delia gasped. Alec stood there, covered from his boots to his cravat in mud, his hair matted with sweat and rain and his chest heaving with exertion. “Get out of the coach,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

His wild appearance was startling enough, but it wasn't what made Delia gasp. It was his eyes. They glittered and flashed with rage. She'd never seen him so angry. “Alec! What—”

That was as far as she got. When she didn't move at once, he reached in, grasped her around her waist, and jerked her from the coach. He set her on her feet, but his hands clutched
her shoulders as if he were afraid she was about to disappear into the dusk. “Where the
devil
do you think you're going?”

Delia gaped at him. Her mouth opened and her lips moved but it was some seconds before any words emerged. “Surrey?” she finally managed to squeak.

Alec's hands tightened on her shoulders. “
Why?
” He shook her a little.

Delia tried to twist out of his grasp, but he held her fast. “Um, because I
live
there?”

Alec's mouth was a grim line. He released her shoulders only to grip her upper arm and march her toward his horse. “Not anymore, you don't. Take the coach and horses back to Horley,” he said curtly to James, without releasing his hold on Delia's arm. “Wait for us there.”

“Yes, my lord,” James said, his eyes wide. Within seconds he'd wheeled the coach around, back in the direction of Horley. The coach and horses were quickly swallowed by the night.

Delia began to think she'd prefer a highwayman, especially when Alec clearly intended to throw her over his horse's saddle as if she were a sack of potatoes. She dug her heels into the ground and began to resist him in earnest. “Alec! What do you think you're doing? Stop this!”