Her Wanton Wager (30 page)

Though she now knew Gavin's true history, Percy did not feel free to divulge it.

"He has his reasons," she said softly. "Suffice it to say, I understand why it must be difficult for him to trust his feelings."

I wouldn't either if my mother abandoned me, if I was imprisoned for a crime I did not commit.
Yet why did she feel a niggle of doubt? A shadow of fear, as if there was something more that Gavin hadn't told her ...

"Have you prepared what you'll tell your family when they return?"

Percy bit her lip. She'd received a letter from Mama; it had been sent over a week ago from the port in France. Which meant her family would be back any day now.

"I'll think of something," she said.

Charity's smile did not quite hide the worry in her eyes. "You always do, Percy."

To lighten her friend's heart, Percy said, "By the by, I am making excellent progress on my novel. Miss Priscilla is getting into all sorts of scrapes these days."

"Not stuck anymore?"

"No. In fact, I have a new beginning." Lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper, Percy began, "Once upon a time in the dark, shadowy catacomb beneath a haunted castle ..."

Her thin cheeks curving, Charity continued to sew as the story unfolded.

*****

"Goodness, you do know how to sweep a girl off her feet," Percy said breathlessly.

Her windedness was due in part to the way Gavin had insisted on carrying her over the threshold into his apartments. The other part had to do with what they had been doing during the carriage ride over.

"I try," he said.

His eyes gleamed with the raw passion she loved. At the same time, there was a playfulness in him that she'd not seen before. 'Twas as if they both sensed the shifting winds and had decided to throw themselves fully into this present moment. In tacit agreement, they'd put aside their troubles and worries. To spend this one night together with nothing but desire and joy swirling between them.

As he let her slide down to her toes, she pressed herself fully against him. Her blood thickened when she encountered the protruding evidence of his desire.
Goodness
, he was red-blooded. With great daring, she shimmied against that hard bulge, smiling when he groaned against her lips.

"'Tis nice to know you missed me," she said.

"Bold as brass." His lips quirked. "Good thing for you I like that in a woman."

"Not just any woman," she reminded him.

"No," he agreed huskily. "
My
woman."  

Melting like an ice from Gunter's, she tipped her head back for his kiss ... and blinked when his lips brushed her nose.

"Lusty chit. There's plenty of time for that." When she flushed, he laughed aloud and kissed her hard on the mouth. Then he removed a velvet box from his jacket pocket. "I have something for you."

"For me?" She
loved
surprises. Opening the lid, she lost all power of speech. Ran a reverent finger over the exquisite piece of jewelry. Fashioned in gold, the brooch took the graceful form of a feather. Yet it was no ordinary feather—a tiny sapphire dripped from its tip. A drop of ink from a quill.

"I had it specially made. Gifts for the aspiring female novelist are difficult to come by."

His thoughtfulness made her eyes swim. "Oh, Gavin. It's the most
beautiful
thing I've ever seen." She threw her arms around his neck. "I shall wear it with pride."

After another long, smoldering kiss, he murmured, "God Almighty, you whet a man's appetite. But I have another surprise planned. Shall we eat first so we can keep up our energy?"

Following his gaze, she saw the magnificent feast laid out upon the Aubusson rug. Everything from roasted meats to vegetables in aspic and tiered plates piled with dessert.  

"A picnic by candlelight," she sighed. "How
romantic
."

"Just don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold."

"I know. The dark, terrifying Lord of the Underworld." She settled happily on the carpet, patting the space next to her. "Well, even he has to eat."

"What about you, buttercup?" He arched his brow as he got down beside her. "No slimming plan this time?"

Percy grinned. "No. This time I intend to indulge myself."

His eyes gleamed. "Allow me the pleasure, then." Reaching over, he plucked a rich, purple grape off the stem. He bit into it, eating half and placing the other at her lips. "Open for me, Percy," he murmured.

She did, and as the tart sweetness filled her mouth, she saw the way his eyes went heavy-lidded. An answering warmth curled in her tummy. Oh my. Who knew eating could be such a stimulating exercise?

Next came a tidbit of chicken. The fragrant smell of rosemary and garlic made her mouth water. When she made to take the succulent morsel from his fingertips, he pulled it out of reach.

"There are rules, sweet," he said.

Her stomach growled. She'd been too excited to eat at Charity's and now she was hungrier than she realized. Eyeing the piece of meat, she said, "What do you mean rules?"

"You recall what I told you last time. About the nature of my desires."

As
if
she'd forget. Heat crept into her cheeks. "Oh. You mean ... this is part of it?"

"If you will allow it." The golden flames of the fire reflected in his dark eyes. "I want you in all ways, Persephone. To make love to you, take care of you ... even to feed you."

His possessiveness caused a pulse to thrum in her throat. Somehow, his proposition seemed more shocking even than the instruments that had littered the bar. A binding more permanent and deeper than a piece of rope could provide.

Tingles of desire and anxiety ran up her spine. She licked her lips. "Our truce, it still holds, doesn't it?"

His gaze hooded. "I won't force you into anything." Eating the piece of chicken, he wiped his fingers on a napkin before filling a wine glass. "But I will win this bloody wager, and you will marry me," he said with calm arrogance. "You know you want to."

There it was: the proposal she'd yearned for.

Though not exactly under those terms.

Elation blazed within her; caution dampened the flames. "And if I win the wager," she said, "does your proposal still stand? Because I'm not giving up on my brother, you know."

"One way or another, you're going to be my wife," he said firmly.  

Take that as a yes,
her heart sang. Her brain—irritating organ—issued another warning, however.
His imperiousness might be exciting now, but do you really want to be ordered about for the rest of your life? You've never been good at following commands. Best begin the way you mean to go on ... 
 

"Um, doesn't an offer of marriage usually involve a question?" she asked. "Preferably asked upon bended knee, perhaps accompanied by a declaration of undying devotion?" She thought a moment. "Violins wouldn't hurt, either."

"Bended knee is not my style. And there's no blasted orchestra right now." Jaw tight, he said, "Persephone Fines, will you marry me or not?"

She peeked at his scowling visage from beneath her lashes. "I might
consider
wedding you. But you might as well know now: I shan't be a brow-beaten wife."

"You? Brow-beaten?" he said in a strangled voice.

"I won't do everything you tell me to." Thinking on it, she felt compelled to add, "The truth is, I'm not likely to do even half of it."

He frowned. "What makes you think I'd want blind obedience from you?"

"Um, perhaps the way you've decided I belong to you? Or the way you like to be in control of things and people around you? And there is the small matter of your sexual predilections, though I've only heard about those second hand ..."

"No need to pour on the paint—I get the picture," he said dryly. "I admit I am dominant by nature. But that does not mean I want you to submit to me in all things."

"It doesn't?" she said skeptically.

"If what I wanted was a submissive female, why the devil would I find you the most desirable chit I've ever met? You've many fine qualities, buttercup; being biddable isn't one of them."

She digested that, even as his compliment glowed in her chest.
The most desirable.
"So you are saying you
like
the fact that I am ... "

"A hoyden? A saucy little romp?" In a sudden movement that knocked the breath from her lungs, he had her beneath him. "Percy," he said, his eyes dark with hunger, "I
love
it."

 His kiss proved that beyond a doubt. Caught between the lush carpet and his tough, masculine form, she gave herself up to the joy of the moment. To the wonder of being desired for who she was. Heat flared instantly between them. She drank in the hot, wine-spiced taste of him as their tongues twined, mated. When he managed to get her gown off her shoulders, she reached for his waistcoat. He caught her hands, pinned them above her head.

"Did you mean what you said," he rasped, "about accepting me as I am?"

A deep flush heated her skin as she realized what he was asking. Curiosity and craving mingled, and she sighed, "Yes."

His nostrils flared. "Good." Slowly, he untied his cravat and folded it to form a neat oblong. "Stand up, sweeting."

Hesitant, but growing more aroused by the moment, she did as he asked. What did he intend to do with his neck cloth—bind her hands? Shivering at the notion, she waited, the insides of her wrists tingling with expectation. Her breath hitched when instead warm linen slid over her eyes, turning her world into a muted, shapeless glow.

She couldn't
see
; she felt utterly powerless. With each rapid breath, worries entered her head. At the same time, the sublime, masculine scent of him wafted from the blindfold, making her tremble with desire.

"Give into me, sweet." His voice rippled hotly over her nape. "I'd never hurt you. Trust me to take care of you."

The guttural yearning in his words undid her. She understood what he needed. Perhaps more than he did. Control, yes, but at a deeper level wasn't this about
trust
? From what she knew of his past, he'd little experience with it. If she wanted him to trust her, she'd have to show him how it was done.

All her life, she'd longed for a heroine's adventure—and a true journey did not come without risk. Releasing a shaky exhale, she bucked up her courage and did what she'd never done before: she surrendered, letting herself tumble into the darkness.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Every erotic dream he'd ever had, she surpassed in a single heartbeat.

Gavin's hands shook slightly as he fastened the knot behind her head. Tight enough to hold, loose enough not to cause her discomfort. He'd never hurt his brave girl, never. What she was giving him ... a shudder of arousal passed through him. His cock had already gone harder than a pike.
Everything I've ever wanted.

He planned to take her virginity tonight. He wouldn't force her, however—he wouldn't have to. By the time the night was done, she would be begging him to make her fully his.

For this first go around, he wouldn't rush things. They had all night, and he was going to savor his goddess, pleasure her beyond her wildest imaginings. He circled her; her pale blue gown parted like wings in the back where he'd unfastened the tiny pearl buttons. In the firelight, her shoulders gleamed with the translucence of the finest porcelain. He pressed his lips to one shoulder blade and felt her tremor from head to toe.

"It feels strange not being able to see," she said breathlessly.

"You don't need to see. I'll take care of you, love."

He made short work of the remaining buttons. Her gown pooled at her feet, followed shortly by her petticoats and other hindrances. He pulled the final barrier, her chemise, over her head, careful not to disturb the blindfold. His breath stuttered at the sight of her.

"By God, you are perfection," he said hoarsely. He watched in fascination as a flush travelled across her nubile form. When her hands moved automatically to cover herself, he stopped them, returning them to her sides. "No hiding, sweet. Let me see all of you."

Her lips parted, yet she acquiesced.

Circling her, he took in her loveliness with a rapacious gaze. She was a flower of a goddess, with her hair a bloom of gold and the rest of her graceful as a stem. His mouth pooled at the high, firm thrust of her breasts and their saucy, budded tips. She was slim of waist and hip, the sleek line of her legs accentuated by white, striped silk stockings. Then and there he decided to leave the stockings on—he had to swallow, lust gripping his balls at the sight of the sky blue garters framing her sunny nest of curls.

Without a doubt, she had the sweetest, most delectable pussy he'd ever seen.

"Are you done ... looking yet?" she said, biting her lip.

He'd never be done. Not in a million years. "You steal my breath, buttercup."

Standing behind her, he grasped her supple waist and pulled her back against him. Shuddered at the contact with the smooth firmness of her ass. He cupped her breasts, thumbing the stiff peaks as she sighed and wriggled against him. The friction made his blood burn, his erect prick threatening to burst through the thin layer of wool.

"You have the most gorgeous tits," he growled against her ear.

"Um, thank you?"

He grinned at her impish response. Only Percy could amuse and arouse him at once. His grin turned into a chuckle when in the midst of the love play her stomach gave an unladylike growl.

"Pardon," she said in abashed voice. "I haven't eaten much today."

Still smiling, he went to fill a plate and led her to the sofa. He pulled her onto his lap, and choosing a ripe strawberry, held it to her lips. "Take a bite."

Red juice dribbled down her chin as she did so. He leaned over and licked up the sweet trail. Sighing, she said, "More please?"

He selected a chicken leg, pulling off bite-sized chunks. She ate it greedily, and when she was done, he murmured to her, "Now be a good girl and lick my fingers clean."