In Love With a Wicked Man (31 page)

He did not pretend to misunderstand. “When I said I cared for you?” he replied.

She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And what I wish to know is this: Is that all there will ever be for us? That you will always be fond of me?”

Something dark passed over his face then, and he backed her up another step. “What do you want there to be, Kate?” he asked. “Shall I swear my eternal devotion? Fall at your feet?”

“I just want the truth,” she said.

He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek in that achingly familiar gesture. “The truth?” he said. “The truth, as you so succinctly put it last night, is that it would have been better for both of us if I’d never come here. Never bought Reggie’s house. Never taken you to bed.”

“And do you regret it?” she murmured, lifting her gaze to his.

He kissed her again, deeply and intimately, curling one arm about her waist as he thrust slowly inside her mouth, weakening her knees until she pressed herself to him for strength.

“There,” he finally said, lifting his mouth but an inch. “Does that feel like regret? No, Kate. I regret only what it has come to.”

“What has it come to?” she pressed. “What did you mean when you said you would be near?”

His heavy gaze shuttered completely, but his hand had begun to make those slow, sensuous circles at the small of her back. “I was thinking, I suppose, of Heatherfields, so close to you,” he said, “and I hoped—damn me for a scoundrel—but I suppose I hoped we . . .”

“Here is what I think,” she blurted. “I think we should be lovers. Not just now, but . . . but for a time. For as long as it suits us.”

His eyes flashed darkly, his mouth opening to speak, but Kate forged ahead. “I know, Edward, that your home is in London, not here. I know the life you lead, and that eventually country life will bore you. But from time to time, mightn’t you find it pleasant to visit? Mightn’t we find a way to be together, for so long as neither of us finds the other tiresome?”

“Tiresome!” he said on a harsh laugh.

“Edward, don’t laugh,” she said. “I won’t share you, by the way. I’m not . . . desperate. That’s part of what I’m saying. If there can be nothing more, can’t there at least be commitment and . . . and pleasure?”

He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Is that all you want me to give you, Kate?” he asked. “Pleasure? You sell yourself short, love.”

“I want you,” she said. “Heaven help me, but I just want—”

He cut her off with another kiss, this one far less tender, the stubble of his beard raking her skin as he dragged his mouth hungrily over hers. His embrace was almost ruthless, his tongue plunging deep, his arm drifted lower until his hand cupped her buttock and lifted her carnally against him.

Through the wool of his trousers, Kate could feel the thick ridge of his manhood hardening against her pelvis. He thrust into her mouth again, tangling his tongue with hers, his thumb hooking her robe and tugging it off her shoulders.

“
Pleasure
, Kate,” he murmured, his mouth skimming down until thwarted by the lace collar at her throat. “Oh, love. I can give you that.”

His other hand, she realized feverishly, was working loose the long row of buttons down the front of her gown as his lips skated back up, lingering at the soft spot just beneath her ear, his tongue lightly teasing. Her heart raced, anticipating what was to come. What only he could give her.

The lace fell away from her throat, and the gown gaped. Edward dragged it open, a stitch ripping. He cupped one breast, lifting it high until the cool air touched her nipple. He bent his head, nuzzling and then suckling.

“Edward,” she whispered. In response, he drew her breast into the warmth of his mouth, his teeth sharp and hard on her nipple.

“Oh!” she gasped, the sensation seizing her breath.

He bit again, then sucked hard, sending that dark hunger spiraling through her. All the way into her belly, down and down like some sensual ribbon twisting greedily at her core.

Her breath was already coming fast in the gloom. “Edward, I want—I want—”

“You already said,” he murmured against her mouth. “Hush, and let me give it to you.”

Suddenly, he lifted her off her feet and turned, setting her back against the door. Between them, his hand fumbled at his trousers. Fleetingly, Kate considered pointing out the bed in the shadows. The notion skittered away. Impatient, she hitched one leg instinctively over his hip, hiking up her nightgown as she wrapped her hands around his neck.

On a sound of pleasure, Edward forced his hand between them, dragging the fabric up over her belly.

He touched her intimately then, his fingers stroking between her folds until Kate trembled, and felt her flesh begin to slicken with need.

“Oh, Kate,” he rasped, “So sweet, love. So silken.”

He held her now with nothing save the strength of his arm beneath her bare hips and the weight of her back pressed to the door. “Please, Edward,” she whispered.

“Please what?” he murmured, lifting her just an inch. With the other hand, he pushed his length through her slick folds, working her. Taunting her a little, perhaps, with the promise of what he could give her.

“Inside me,” she whimpered. “
Please
.”

“Is that what you want, Kate?” His voice was rough. “Say it, love.”

“Yes.
Yes
.” She tried to nod, swallowing hard, the world beyond forgotten as he teased her with his hard, velvety shaft. “I want it,” she said. “You
know
—oh, Edward—
oh
.”

His free hand found her leg, hooking her knee higher, opening her fully. Balancing her weight, he lifted her a few inches. On a rough, agonizing groan, Edward slipped his thick shaft into her silken wetness just an inch.

“
Umm
,” she said, her passage tightening involuntarily. This was raw and carnal; not beautiful, no, but deeply erotic. And deeply addictive, she feared.

She worked her hips just an inch. “Edward, please,” she softly whimpered. “I need—just—
oh!
”

He gave another agonizing sound, something torn from deep in his chest, then he thrust up hard, plunging his length deep. “Oh. God.
Kate
.” The words were little more than rasps.

A swift madness came upon them then. He pushed again, roughly and hungrily, stroking her in at the right angle. Kate cried out at the delicious sensation. Covering her lips with his, he thrust again.

“
Oh
.” She moaned the word into his mouth.

He set a furious rhythm, driving her higher, his hips powerful, his arm beneath her buttocks holding her to him. “Yes,” she said again. “Like . . . oh,
oh.
” She could feel herself spiraling out of control. Into his control, dangerously tempting.

“Kate, Kate,” he chanted. “Come to me, love. Oh, darling.
So
needy.”

“Yes,” she whimpered one last time. The need had welled up fast, like water against a dam, the heat pooling deep and heavy as he pumped in and out of her. Edward buried his face against her neck, sucking at her flesh and he thrust and thrust again.

Kate’s skin felt alive, shivering everywhere he touched. Already she was coming apart, shattering to pieces, lost to reason and the world around her. Then Edward shifted his angle, pushed his hard flesh all the way into her, and she felt her whole body begin to shake.

Kate crested a wave of passion that was otherworldly, coming in a rush of sensation that flooded through her in great, shuddering spasms. She could feel Edward pumping furiously into her. And then he cried out, a deep, guttural sound. His head went back, the tendons of his neck cording hard, his golden hair falling like a mane behind him.

He jerked, and jerked again, his shaft throbbing inside her. Then, on one last groan, he stilled, gasping. After a long moment, he let his forehead come to rest against hers.

“Oh, God,” he groaned. “
Yes
.”

“Yes?” she whispered.

“
Yes
, Kate, to anything,” he rasped. “Anything. You enslave me.”

For a moment Kate toyed with a daring, dangerous question. Then good judgment came creeping back, and along with it the realization that in that moment, to ask it would have been deeply unfair.

And a terrible mistake.

On a sound of pure exhaustion, she let the leg over his hipbone slide back to the floor. Ever the gentleman, Edward let her slide down his length, then restored her nightgown to some semblance of order, his hair falling forward to shadow his beautiful face.

She threaded one hand lazily through his hair. “You need a haircut,” she murmured.

He laughed. “My God, madam, you know how to keep a man in his place,” he said.

“I’m sorry.” Arms still twined behind his neck, Kate kissed him. “I’m no good at this—this knowing the right things to say. There seem no words, really.”

His smile flashed in the gloom. “You’re perfect, Kate.”

She looked past him. “There is a bed in that corner,” she suggested. “A very small one.”

“Now she tells me,” he muttered.

Then he picked her up, sliding an arm beneath her knees, and carried her to it.

“There is indeed, though not much of one,” he said, settling her gently on it.

Kate scooted all the way against the wall, leaving just enough room for Edward to tuck alongside her. After prying off his shoes, he did so.

“Close quarters,” he murmured, brushing his lips down her throat. “Ah, Kate.”

“Yes?” she whispered.

His head lifted, his gaze softening to hers. “It has been a long time since I made love like a raw lad,” he said. “Lord, up against a door with my clothes still on! I can only plead too much brandy, and too much . . .”

“Too much what?” she pressed.

“Desire.” He looked away. “Merciful heaven, Kate, but I burn for you.”

Impulsively, she kissed his forehead. “So will you consider my question, Edward?” she said.

“About . . . an arrangement?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, toying with the button on his shirt. “About that.”

He was quiet for a long, awful moment. Then, “Kate,” he finally said, “we may have to have more than an arrangement. What we did just now . . . love, I was not careful. I know better. And yet—”

“We will not think of that,” she interjected, kissing him again. “Just answer my question, Edward. Don’t . . . leave me hanging. It hurts.”

“Yes,” he rasped. “Blast it, Kate, you’re a damned fool to take up with me. But yes. Whatever you want, yes.”

She settled herself against him, burying her face against his throat. He smelled enticing; of soap and sweat and of himself, that wonderful mingling of sandalwood and leather and his own musky essence. He smelled of strength and comfort—or what Kate had always imagined they would smell like.

Teasingly, she slipped another button free and stroked her tongue along his collarbone. “
Umm
,” he murmured. “Keep on, minx, if you think this bed can hold us.”

“I doubt it,” she said on a choked laugh.

“Kate?” He kissed the top of her head. “Why are we in the valet’s room?”

“Because he retired to Lyme Regis,” said Kate, “when Grandpapa died. And Mamma took my bed tonight.”

“Good Lord,” he said. “Why on earth?”

Just then, however, there was a faint bump from outside the room.

Edward sat bolt upright, cursing under his breath.

“Wait,” she murmured, grabbing his arm.

“Kate, the last thing you need is to be caught in bed with me—especially with Upshaw so near.”

“It was just a servant,” she said, “in the corridor.”

But Edward got up and locked the door all the same.

The sound, however, came again—louder, and followed by a drunken giggle.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, one eyebrow crooked. “Servants?” he said doubtfully.

“That’s Lady Julia.” Frowning, Kate wriggled past and got up to retrieve her wrapper. “She was drinking downstairs with Sir Francis when Mamma and I came up.”

This time there was a trill of laughter, but farther down the passageway.

“Well, she sounds sotted now,” said Edward darkly.

“And apt to wake Uncle Upshaw,” Kate muttered, throwing on her robe. “Wait here.”

Unlocking the door, she went out and through the parlor to the main door. Cracking it, she peeked out to see Lady Julia entangled in a passionate embrace with Sir Francis, who had pressed her up against Kate’s bedroom door while somehow managing to hold a lamp aloft.

“
No, no, Francis!
” tittered Julia, pointing drunkenly over his shoulder. “It’s
not
. It’s
two more doors.
”

“Julia, my love, mind the lamp.” Eyes hooded, Sir Francis kissed her. “I think I know which door is yours.”

Kate had stepped out to scold them when, out of the blue, Sir Francis slipped a hand behind Julia, gave the knob a violent twist, and sent her tumbling backward into the room.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose. From Kate’s bedroom came a bloodcurdling scream, almost theatrical in its pitch. Another, more hysterical scream followed, along with a string of blistering curses.

Kate rushed into the gloom of the passageway, slamming into Upshaw, who came barreling from across the way, his nightcap hanging over one eye. “What in the name of all blazes?” he bellowed.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Kate. “Lady Julia’s a bit tipsy.”

But Upshaw had marched across the hall, only to freeze upon Kate’s threshold.

“
Aurélie Wentworth!
” he bellowed. “What in God’s name?”

Kate pushed past him and into a scene of farcical mayhem. Lord Reginald Hoke was sitting up, bare-chested, in Kate’s bed. Tucked beside him, Aurélie was propped almost comically on her elbows, a shock of curly black hair over one shoulder, her nightgown hanging loose off the other. Lady Julia was buckled over with giggles, while Sir Francis, still holding his lamp aloft, looked dark as a thunderhead.

“
Zut alors!
” Aurélie was scrambling upright. “Reggie,
mon amour
, we are caught out!”

“Damn you, Reggie!” Sir Francis shook his empty fist at the bed. “Is this your idea of a joke?”