Angel in Scarlet: A Bound and Determined Novel (26 page)

His hands tangled in her hair as he forced her to his pace, speeding and slowing. She gave control willingly; his pleasure was her pleasure.

He tensed suddenly and she thought the moment had come, but then abruptly she found herself lifted to standing and turned. Her breasts pressed against the window as his hand squeezed a nipple tight. It was all she could do not to cry out as he twisted lightly at the peak, still swollen from this morning. The pain zapped down between her legs, just as a hand wrapped about her, the fingers again seeking and finding that perfect spot between her legs.

Her shift was raised again. She felt him behind—and then he was in her, filling her, stretching flesh still tender from the first time. She bit down as he pounded hard, pushing her with some force against the cold glass. The ache in her core ebbed for the briefest of moments and then grew tenfold. She tilted her hips, wanting more, needing more.

“Do you think anybody’s out there, looking up?” he whispered.

Could there be? She peered out into the darkness, her mind filled with the image of what she must look like pressed tight against the window, her white shift so thin it hid nothing and raised high to her waist—and his hand: There could be no mistaking what his hand was doing. What a sight it must be.

His fingers slipped about her clit, squeezing and releasing, even as he thrust hard into her from behind.

Her body was moving with his now, forward, back. Each thrust coiling her tighter, drawing her closer to the point where she would burst. Her breathing was fast and labored, all her energy focused on staying quiet.

Colton’s lips found the base of her neck, first nuzzling, but then his teeth pressed harder.

She was not the only one trying to smother any possible sound. His movements grew frantic, plunging deeper and deeper. His fingers stroking and squeezing her, bringing her further and further into a world of sensation. The cold of the glass against her swelling breasts. The bite of his teeth upon her neck. The fullness of his every thrust. The ache growing greater and greater.

She couldn’t take more. She couldn’t.

Only she did. He demanded and she gave.

Higher and higher she rose.

Then he plunged in deep, stilled.

“Now,” he whispered. “Come for me now.” He pulled out once, his fingers loosened—and then he thrust hard, his fingers pinching, the nails biting.

And she burst. A blur of color and wonder. Her arm rose to catch her cry, teeth biting tender flesh.

She felt him behind, felt him surge and cry silently, tension climaxing—and then the instant slowness of relaxation.

His head sank to her shoulder, his full weight resting against her, pressing her even tighter to the window. Her legs struggled to stay firm, even as she wanted to sag to the floor.

Suddenly she found herself lifted, her head against his shoulder, his strong arm beneath her bended knees. He carried her to her bed, laying her gently against the pillows and pulling the covers up to her neck. Only then did she realize how cold the room had become.

He stepped away, fastening the flap of his trousers.

She patted the bed beside her.

He shook his head. “We’ve already risked too much, but I could not resist. Knowing you are mine has, I fear, left me permanently in need. I want to mark you and scream to the world that you are mine.”

Her hand rose to the back of her neck. “I think you may have already succeeded. I will have to wear a scarf on the morrow.”

“I am sorry.”

That was blatantly not true. “I am sure you are and that it will never happen again.”

“Are you happy?”

The question took her by surprise. Looking into his eyes, she considered, giving him the best answer that she could. “Yes, I am happy. It is not perfect. I can’t deny that I want more. Oh, don’t get that look—that’s not what I—I mean more in life. Does that make any sense?”

He stepped toward her. “Yes, and I can only say I will try. I do mean to make you happy, my angel.” His hand lifted and brushed back her hair. He stared straight into her eyes. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened. A slight smile formed on his lips. “I meant it earlier, even if I was not truly ready to say it. Angela, I do love you.”

And she believed him. It was that simple. It was why she had said yes this morning and it was why she’d welcomed him tonight. He did want her to be happy. She believed that too. “If you’re not careful, you’ll make my dreams come true.”

“I am working on it. I am already thinking about a certain English spy and how to torture her to make her talk.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant either, but she could tell he knew that—and she couldn’t deny that even the thought of such torture had her body humming.

It was her turn to reach out, to brush her fingers over his lips. It was her turn to speak, to say the words. She opened her mouth—and before she could say more, a voice called through the wall. “Are you having problems sleeping, Angela? I keep thinking I hear voices in there.”

“My mother,” she whispered.

He stepped away.

She grinned and mouthed the words.
“I love you.”

Colton’s eyes lit, filled with warmth and care. Then, placing a hand on his heart, he slipped from the room.

Angela stared after him for a moment, unable to hold back the smile on her lips.

“Angela?” Another call.

She slipped out of the bed, walked to the wall that joined the rooms, and called, “I am fine, Mother; just happy.”

And it was true, so very, very true.

Mastering the Marquess

Revealing Ruby
(novella)

Bound by Bliss

Sarah’s Surrender
(novella)

Ravishing Ruby

Angel in Scarlet

L
AVINIA
K
ENT
is a former two-term president of the Washington Romance Writers and a four-time Romance Writers of America Golden Heart nominee. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her family and an ever-changing menagerie of pets.

Want more from Lavinia Kent?

laviniakent.com

Facebook.com/LaviniaKent

@laviniakent

Looking for your next book boyfriend? I think I can help you out—check out these wonderful stories from Loveswept:

Something brand-new from Loveswept debut author Lynda Aicher,
The Harder He Falls.
Author Ellie Cahill releases a sexy, witty new adult story called
Just a Girl
. The first in the Bayard Hockey series comes from Kelly Jamieson with
Shut Out.
New York Times
bestselling author Missy Johnson steams it up with
The Proposition.
The third story in Cassie Mae’s LOL All About Love romantic comedy series holds true to its name:
Crazy About Love
. Readers will fall
fast
and
hard
and clamor for the next in Tina Wainscott’s Florida-set Falling Fast series with
Falling Free
. Sharon Cullen’s Highland Pride series continues with
MacLean’s Passion,
as Scotland’s most reckless smuggler meets his match in a beautiful spitfire who arouses a renewed sense of duty, camaraderie, and passion in him.
New York Times
bestselling author L. P. Dover sets hearts on fire in
Defending Hayden,
where a damaged football star teams up with the only woman who can take away the pain. More from Lavinia Kent’s Bound and Determined series comes in the form of
Angel in Scarlet
. And I hope you’ll agree that there are never too many men in kilts: Ladies, meet the Wild Highland Guardians, new from Violetta Rand in
Her Highland Rogue
.

Be in the know—friend us and like us on Facebook and Twitter.

Until next month ~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

Available from Loveswept

“When is Captain Price returning?” Angela, Lady Colton, asked, turning away from the painting she’d been admiring to stare intently at Ruby across the parlor of Madame Rouge’s, London’s most exclusive brothel. “Wasn’t he due back a week ago? I can’t imagine being left alone for so long. How ever do you manage without him?”

Ruby stared back, taking a moment too long to answer, allowing an awkward silence to grow. She knew that Angela hadn’t meant anything by the question, but the words hit at the heart of Ruby’s own anxieties, and it was difficult to restrain a defensive answer.

It had been years since she’d had female friends to confide in, and she was unsure of the proper way to respond. She had the girls who worked for her, of course, and there was always Cook, but Cook was several decades older, and more family than friend.

Still, Angela was a dear, and Ruby knew she had only the best intentions; she was just young, and perhaps a little careless. Ruby glanced between Angela and Louisa, Lady Swanston, who sat reclining upon a couch.

The seconds ticked by.

What could she say that was reassuring and calming, that would not reveal her own anxieties? This business of having friends was a difficult matter. “I try not to dwell on his absence.”

Was that enough?

“Oh, Angela, you shouldn’t ask such questions,” Louisa said, rising from the low couch. “We both know she’s missing her captain. It is cruel to ask, particularly as the weather turns foul.”

“I don’t think it’s a difficult question,” Angela answered. “I was merely curious. I truly can’t imagine being without Colton, now that we’ve wed.” A delicate blush spread up her cheeks.

Ruby, much to her surprise, felt a similar blush heating her own face. Normally, nothing could make her blush; being the madame of one of London’s most exclusive brothels did tend to leave one rather world-weary. “No, I know the question is meant with the best intent. Yes, I do miss Derek, but I have been alone a long time, and I’m quite used to it. It’s merely a matter of letting each day pass and attending to everything that must be taken care of.”

She was tempted to tell her friends of her decision to sell Madame Rouge’s and sail with Derek once he returned. But until she had definite plans, she was not ready to discuss the matter except with those who had to know, those who might purchase the house from her. Discussing it with her friends would make it all too real. But she would probably need to tell them soon. Both Lord Swanston and Lord Colton were attempting to help her with the sale, and it would only be a matter of time before their wives knew. Ruby certainly didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings when the matter became public.

But not today. Today she would think of something other than the choices she must make about her future. “Now, ladies,” she said, “are you ever going to tell me why you’re here? I’ve never had two ladies call at once, and it does make one wonder.”

Angela laughed, clearly understanding exactly why Ruby might find it surprising to have two ladies come together to the brothel—and what it might have meant, in slightly different circumstances. “No, no. Nothing at all like that. We were bored, and decided it was the perfect day to pay a call on a dear friend.”

Ruby glanced out the window at the cold gray day. The wind howled between the houses, casting up the few remaining dry leaves. Dust and dirt danced and blew.

“The perfect day? I would have thought you’d be happy curled up before the fire, with pot after pot of tea.”

“And so we are,” Louisa said, stretching, as she glanced from the flickering flames in the hearth to the delicate china pot on the table.

“That was not what I meant,” Ruby added.

“I know, but with Bliss awaiting the birth of her baby and most of society at their estates in the country, London is a dreadfully dull place. Oh, that did not come out as I meant it. It makes it sound as if you’re our last choice, and you’re certainly not that, for all that it’s such a bother having to sneak in.” Louisa glanced at the pile of discarded veiling that lay heaped on a chair. “And the wind certainly did not help.”

“I would imagine not. And I do not mean to sound ungrateful for your visit. I would confess to feeling a touch of the doldrums myself. You’re quite correct that it can seem like there’s hardly a soul about, now that nearly everyone has retired to the country for the holidays. Even
my
business suffers at such a time.” She raised a brow at the ladies.

“Well, I would imagine that to be true. I may have to talk to Swanston and see if we can do something about that,” Louisa said, before turning back to Angela. “Oh, perhaps I should not have said that.”

Angela smiled back. “I daresay it would be hard to pretend that we just happened to meet our dear Ruby in the park and became friends because we were strolling in the same direction. We may not talk about it, but we both know why we’ve come here.”

Ruby said nothing. Even among friends it was best that some matters be kept private.

Before another awkward silence could descend, there was a tap on the door and Ruby’s porter, Simms, entered with a small wooden box. “There’s a delivery for you, Madame.”

She held out her hand and took the box from him. “Something from Sarah Perry.” Whatever was Sarah sending her from the North Country? Ruby had not heard from her since she’d left with her husband to visit his more distant estates. With some reluctance—for she was intrigued—she put the box aside.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Angela asked, with obvious curiosity.

“I think I’d best not. I know that Sarah is your friend, as well, but…”

Louisa smiled. “But I would not want a package that I sent you opened before others.”

“I am glad you understand.” Ruby tapped the box once.”

“I understand, too,” Angela added. “Although I admit I am curious.”

“Now,” Ruby said, changing the subject. “Is there anything else you need to talk about? I don’t wish to keep you all afternoon. The weather is turning more and more nasty.”

“And that is your polite way of stating that you have things you must attend to.”

“Not at all. I merely don’t wish you to be delayed here; the weather threatens. I can’t imagine either of your husbands would take well to your remaining here under the duress of a storm—or otherwise.”

“And that’s just want I wanted to talk to you about,” Angela burst out suddenly. “I don’t know how to tell Colton that I want to come back here for—for a visit.”

“Hmm,” Ruby murmured. “I do have some ideas about that, although I am surprised you need them so soon after your marriage.”

Angela sat up straighter. “I just want to be sure we set the right patterns to begin with. I do know how difficult it can be to train a man, if he develops bad habits.”

Ruby stifled a laugh. She rather thought if there was any training going on in that marriage, it was occurring in the opposite direction. Ruby knew a great deal about Colton’s tastes, and she could not imagine any woman attempting to train him. Still, perhaps that was he’d found appealing in the vibrant young Angela. She leaned forward and addressed both women, “The real trick is to let a man think it is all his idea. If you leave the subtlest of hints, letting him know that you are agreeable and you…”

Would Derek ever come home?
Ruby echoed Angela’s question of earlier as she glared out the window of her room. The strong, steady wind had developed into the first snowfall of the year. It was not sticking to the still, warm ground, but it was a harbinger of far colder days to come, days when a ship out on rough seas might meet disaster. Bending her neck, she rested her forehead against the cold glass, staring out into the fading light.

Her captain should have been home a week or more ago. There were no fixed dates with a man who sailed the seas, but she could not stop the knot of dread that lodged deep in her belly. Something was coming. She knew not what, but she could feel it in the air about her, something other than snow and ice.

The window shook as a sudden gust caught it, the snow falling far harder than it had barely a moment before.

She pulled back. The snow danced before her, coating the dark branches of the trees and briefly covering the dirt of the streets before melting across the cobbles. Another gust. The air was almost white with the heavy flakes, the house across the way becoming lost in the swirl.

She turned away.

No, Derek would not be home tonight.

She glanced at the table that held Sarah’s gift and frowned at the open box, the glossy green leaves and small white berries visible within. What was the use of magical, mystical mistletoe if Derek was not about? Sarah’s note had left as many questions as it had answered. A true kiss of lasting love was not of much use when there was no one about to kiss.

Not that she believed in any such thing, or in the village wise-women who spread such nonsense. Ruby was practical and always had been. She’d given up dreams long ago—although what was Derek if not a perfect dream? But drat, he would be much more perfect if he ever actually arrived.

Practical. Be practical. Put dreams aside for now. She had a business to run.

Another gust of wind rattled the window.

A business that would continue to suffer if the weather did not improve. No one wanted to trek through a snowstorm when he could simply come another night.

Business. Madame Rouge’s.

Her house. Her home.

In the past, it had always brought her comfort and joy to think about all she had accomplished, about creating a safe place for both her girls and her patrons, creating a place where every fantasy could be realized.

But now that had changed; now she was more concerned with her own fantasies, with creating a home and a life with her captain. Although happily ever after was far harder to live than she had ever imagined.

The windowpane rattled again, and she glanced out at the ever-increasing storm. It seemed all too real a metaphor for the confusion of her life.

A few months ago it had all seemed so simple: Sell the house and head off into a world of adventure with Derek. But nothing had ever been that easy. True love definitely was not the answer to everything.

A tap at the door interrupted her maudlin thoughts.

“Enter,” she called.

Simms poked his head in. “Excuse me, Madame, but Lord Colton is here and would like a word with you.”

Colton here? In this weather? She did hope he was not upset with his wife’s visit earlier in the day. There were not many men who would welcome having their wives visit a brothel. Granted, Colton had introduced Angela to Madame Rouge’s himself, so it might be a bit hypocritical of him to complain now. And it was far more likely that Angela had merely planted those first seeds of an idea in her husband’s mind, causing him to visit Ruby at the first available opportunity. She simply had not expected it to be so soon—and not in the middle of a snow.

“Of course, Simms. You may tell him I will be right there.”

Ruby took one last look out the snowy window and then moved to the mirror to check her appearance.

Dark red wig in place, tonight’s curls were not quite as bright as on some evenings, but that suited her somewhat dismal mood.

Lips, crimson.

Eyes, lined in kohl.

Dress of deep purple satin, far more fitted than fashion dictated, but it suited her, and she was a woman who had always chosen what suited her.

Ear bobs, still on her dresser.

She picked up the heavy sapphire bobs and held them up to the light. How many more times would she wear them? For years, ever since she had become Madame Rouge, they had represented who she was; every night she put them on and thought about her mother’s life and everything that had led her to this place. But the heavy jewels had no place either in the life of Emma Scanton, granddaughter of a textile merchant, or that of Mrs. Derek Price, wife of a Rhode Island sea captain. No, the ear bobs were part of Madame Rouge, not of either of the women Ruby might become. With a deep sigh, she picked them up and threaded them through her ears, their familiar weight transforming her.

Madame Rouge had arrived.