Dangerous Loves Romantic Suspense Collection (18 page)

Edgeware circled the desk, blocking her escape. He spread his arms wide. “Then, I fear, I can tell you nothing.”

Oh, how she wished he would confide in her. No matter how hard she fought it, she felt drawn to him. They would make a good team. Together they could stop Dionysus from ruining any more lives. And, perhaps, they could share more kisses.

She quickly turned away and caught sight of a small marble status bathed in a pale beam of moonlight. The statue, sitting atop a round pillar in the far corner of the room, was of Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and ecstasy. The lithe figure reclined against a marble rock outcropping, his head thrown back, a lyre about to slip from his fingers. A diamond tear sparkled on the stone god’s cheek.

Dionysus, a myth known for his eternal pursuit of life’s pleasures, was a tragic figure really. Like Edgeware, Dionysus’s mother had died at his birth. Elsbeth had forgotten, until that moment, the stories her governess had read to her about the god. A god who’d not been accepted in either the realm of Olympus, or in the world of mortals.

“A mystic wanderer doomed. All whom he loved was destined to share in his tragic fate,” she mouthed, trying to remember something she’d once read. Something important, but then a hand caressed her jaw, turning her face back toward Edgeware until she was trapped in his penetrating gaze.

“I only seek to restore your reputation,” he said. “I will do everything in my power to protect you and your relatives from the sharp tongues wagging through the
ton
. Beyond that, I-I—”

He faltered, seemingly at a loss for words. He closed the distance between them. His warm hand, the hand still cupping her cheek, traced a line slowly across her jaw until his fingers could curl around the nape of her neck.

She felt her senses flee. She licked her lips, and her eyelids grew heavy with desire for this mysteriously gentle man.

“Oh hell, Elsbeth,” he whispered a moment before he kissed her. Her passion reawakened from the madness they’d shared in the hallway just a few hours ago. It stirred a dormant part of her heart. A lonely, aching need she could no longer deny.

She leaned into his chest and snaked her arms around his waist as she parted her lips. Her mind was surprisingly silent. She couldn’t think; she could only feel. She could only drink in how his touch, his caress brought life to her most intimate parts.

He helped her push away his shirt and she rained kisses on his bare chest, quickly becoming drunk from his sweet scent, that welcome mix of almonds and sage. His hands explored her body. He was slow and patient with her as he pushed away her wrapper to trace her shape through the thin nightrail she wore beneath. With a satisfied sigh, she reached out for him, feeling desperate to touch him. His muscles were taut, his skin smooth.

This was like a dream, a distant dream she’d long forgotten. “Yes,” she whispered, instinctively knowing how the scene was to play out, and knowing not to fear it.

Agile fingers unlaced the top of her nightrail and bared her breasts. Each round globe felt particularly heavy and wanton. He dipped his head and took a nipple between his teeth, suckling until she thought she might cry out. A vibrating heat filled her chest and spread low in her belly and high in her legs.

With his thigh he gently pushed her legs apart.

“Elsbeth, I have waited too long for this.” His smoldering gaze spoke to her in a way only Dionysus’s paintings had ever done. She longed to ease his suffering. And ease her own aching need as well.

He pushed her skirt up while fumbling with the front of his trousers. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, dove,” he said between deep kisses where their tongues were given the chance to play. “There should be flowers, music…at least a bed.” His fingers parted her nether curls. His touch was warm and gentle with her delicate flesh.

“Relax,” he whispered, stroking her deeply between her legs until she thought she might melt into nothing at his feet. “Just feel.”

Her breathing hitched. Awareness of her body—of how he was stroking her, touching her in her most delicate of places—exploded with a flash of bright colors. Her budding heat pulled and strained against his touch in such a pleasing manner she opened her legs wider. And then desire took over. She traced her finger down his chest and daringly reached into his unfastened trousers to caress him.

Slowly, he withdrew from her until only his lips touched hers, breaking the contact she had learned to crave.

“The door,”
he whispered and gave her a quick kiss. He was only gone a moment. But it felt like a lifetime. He hurried across the room and pushed the door closed. He then fumbled with the key in the lock. But before he could turn it, the wretched key slipped out of his hand, bounced across the oriental carpet and disappeared under the heavy desk. She’d never seen him look so harassed. He drew a ragged breath. He’d probably come to the same conclusion she had. They’d have a devil of a time finding the key in the dim moonlight.

“Everyone is abed.” She reached out to him. “Surely, we are safe.”

With him, she felt uncommonly safe. His body was trembling with need by the time he pulled her back into his arms. She grabbed his shoulders and held on to him, silently begging for him to give her more.

He answered by positioning the wide tip of his manhood at her opening and pushing deep into her with one smooth stroke. She’d always been small, tight. Her body stretched to accommodate him. Though he was stretching her to her limit, she welcomed his fullness, a swelling of sensations more fantastic than before. A fullness that felt natural.

The tip of his tongue eased her mouth open, urging her to breathe. He pulled out and pressed back in again, moving slowly and rhythmically massaging her sensitive flesh.

“Oh my,” Elsbeth moaned. It had never been quite like this. She had never even dreamed…

His motions grew more urgent. He filled her over and over until she was sure she could take no more. She cried out, her muscles trembling as she rode wave after wave of pleasure until she sank into his arms, feeling more relaxed than ever and unable to catch her breath.

He kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin, and then slipped from between her legs. “Next time,” he whispered, sounding as breathless as she, “we should definitely have a bed nearby.”

The mere thought of repeating that miracle set her legs quivering anew. Her eyes slipped closed as she held on to his strong shoulders and waited to wake up from what had to have been her most vivid dream ever.

His lips found hers again and she lost herself in his touch. Her life would never be the same again. Nothing would ever be the same, nothing would ever be so—

An angry fist knocked sharply against the study’s heavy wooden door. “Lord Edgeware!” a woman shouted. “La, I hope you’re in there. This is really most unacceptable. There is a man lurking outside the—” Lady Dashborough pushed open the study’s door and gasped. “What-what-what is the meaning of this?”

Chapter Fourteen

With his hand inside her wrapper, cupping her breast, his other hand tangled in her hair, and her nightrail hiked up about her waist there was no hope of pretending that what they’d just been caught doing was anything other than what it looked like.

Elsbeth jerked free of Edgeware’s embrace, pushed her skirt down, and pulled her wrapper closed as priggishly as possible. Still, her cheeks flamed the moment her gaze met the sharp scrutiny of Lady Dashborough, who had a brightly lit four-stem candelabrum held high over her head.

What a pretty pair they must have made. Her, dressed in her flimsy nightclothes with only a sheer wrapper for coverage. Edgeware, dressed without a coat or cravat, his shirt open, nearly torn off, revealing a goodly portion of his chest. And—Elsbeth’s blush grew hotter—his trousers hung open, unbuttoned. Yes, what a pretty gossip they had just handed to Lady Dashborough.

“My lord,” the good matron said after a sharp intake of air, “not only are suspicious men roaming your grounds. There is this. You must now understand why I was worried about letting my daughters cavort with such a…such a…hoyden.” She waved her arm in the general direction of Elsbeth. “Or has she woven her wiles so tightly around you that you’re blinded to the beast she truly is?”

Edgeware appeared to be having a bit of trouble gaining his wits. He cleared his throat several times while setting his clothes to right.

“My lady—” he implored only to be interrupted.

“I demand, Lord Edgeware, yes, demand, that you remove this thing from your house first thing in the morning. I would say sooner, but I am a charitable lady with charitable feelings toward the ladies Olivia and Lauretta. What damage their association with such an immoral—”

“My lady,” Edgeware nearly shouted, “you do not understand the situation!”

Elsbeth’s jittery attentions snapped toward him. How could he expect to convince Lady Dashborough that she was mistaken in what she had clearly seen?

“Not understand?” Lady Dashborough’s chin shot up toward the ceiling. “How can that be possible? What I saw was a woman with a history of questionable morals using her charms to ignite your lust.”

Edgeware chuckled nervously. “You see, my lady. This is where you are mistaken. It is my charm that has won the rather proper Lady Mercer over. For, I’m delighted to announce that—” he cleared his throat and gave Elsbeth a blazing smile “—the enchanting lady has just agreed to be my wife. What you saw was my expression of gratitude for her acceptance to my suit.”

Wife?
The room began to spin. “But I must never marry again.” What was the dark lord doing? Why was he stealing away her freedom? What possible use could he have for her?

He didn’t know
.

“Elsbeth?”

He surely didn’t know
.

“Elsbeth? Breathe, my little dove.”

Two strong arms supported her.

“Sit her in this chair, my lord. She looks ready to faint. Your charms have overwhelmed her, no doubt. You are a very charming man,” Lady Dashborough said.

Elsbeth sank into a leather chair and cradled her dizzy head in her hands. A warm hand rubbed her back heartily.

This was foolish, and she never accounted herself acting a fool. She drew in a deep breath and slowly straightened her spine. She had to blink several times to clear away the blurriness.

“I say,” Lady Dashborough quickly spoke up, “I would imagine any respectable young lady would be overwhelmed by your suit, Edgeware. Your interests undoubtedly have near to killed a woman of Lady Mercer’s standing.” She clicked her tongue.

Elsbeth, feeling as if she was plodding through a murky dream, turned her head away from Lady Dashborough’s pained smile to focus on the hand now covering hers. She blinked.

“You cannot mean…I mean, my lord, surely you were jesting.” She drew a steadying breath. “And such a thing to jest about.”

He didn’t know. How could she possibly tell him?

“Lady Dashborough,” she said, her voice strong and clear. She rose from the chair. “Lord Edgeware is jesting. There is no engagement, only an indiscretion as you first suspected. I assure you, it was not planned.”

A sly smile spread on the lovely matron’s face. “Of course. How could I have thought otherwise? The
ton
will be very interested to know how the leopard has failed to change her spots.” She raised her hand. “No, Lord Edgeware, don’t you dare ply me with your threats. I’m willing to weather a minor scandal to protect others from this beast.”

“Threats?” Elsbeth asked.

“Threats?” Edgeware sounded perfectly innocent. “I cannot imagine to what you are referring. As for the engagement, I vow it is true.” He grabbed Elsbeth’s hand and cradled it against his chest. “My sweet dove, you cannot insist it be kept secret. You see, Lady Dashborough, her family is not yet aware of the arrangement. And then there is the matter of the marriage settlement and solicitors to be consulted. Of course, she insists she speak with her uncle before a formal announcement is made.”

“I see,” Lady Dashborough said, eyeing them both far too closely.

“Lord Edgeware—” Elsbeth began, ready to present him with a royal scolding. She had no desire to be party to his fiction.

“Hush, my dove,” he pressed a finger to her lips—lips that felt shamefully swollen—before she could utter her first protest. “She is adamant about the secrecy, I am afraid.”

“No, my dear,” Lady Dashborough said. Her eyes flashed in the candlelight. “This will not do. You cannot expect to suppress the news of the Marquess’s engagement. He is much too important. This move will come as a great shock to the matrons who have been busily grooming their daughters for him.” With that, Lady Dashborough took up her candelabrum and swept from the room.

“Sir!” Elsbeth rounded on the dark lord, her tiny fists pressing painfully against her hips. “What have you done?”

* * * *

What had he done indeed?

Nigel’s insides stirred with an unsettling mix of delight and terror. Certainly what he had just done would be very difficult to undo.

“I believe you should consider yourself engaged, madam,” he said, his words clipped and sharp. Anger against himself boiled over onto Elsbeth. “I have told you this several times before. I am prepared to do anything…
anything
to restore you and your relatives’ reputations in the eyes of society.”

“I never asked for this kind of help. Gracious, I believe I would rather seek the assistance of a footpad.”

“That can be arranged!” he shouted and charged from the room, muttering curses against Elsbeth, the rigid society they lived in and its damned rules, and himself.

Especially himself.

Chapter Fifteen

“You did what?”

Nigel was lounging against a brick wall with his arms crossed against his chest. He kicked a pebble lying in the middle of the walk, sending it skittering across the slate stones. The day promised to be a warm one.

He’d spent the morning with George, searching the grounds for intruders. After his surprise engagement the night before, he’d forgotten, until that morning, all about the shadowy figure both he and Lady Dashborough had seen prowling the grounds. By that time, no traces of mischief could be found. And even though his life depended on catching that bold, nameless interloper, he had a devil of a time keeping his mind on such matters.