Kresley Cole - [MacCarrick Brothers 03] (7 page)

True, she still hadn’t seen his face—and she didn’t know his name. But to be fair, she could probably go out on a limb and guess that the Scot hadn’t been widowed three times. And to be fair, she
had
seen the count’s face.

Between this man’s fierce kisses, her irresistible attraction to him—and a good deal of the decidedly potent punch—this struck her as a
brilliant
solution to her problem. “Scot, I don’t suppose you’re rich and looking for a wife?”

“One out of two. I’ll never marry.”

“
Never
, never? Or do you mean not until after a few years more of bachelorhood?”

“Never.” He was emphatic, seeming irritated by the mere subject.

“Oh. Well, I really can’t be going home with you,” she said, just as the carriage rolled to a stop. He set her on the bench and opened his door—in front of an imposing red-brick mansion.

“Where are we?” she asked in confusion.

“In Grosvenor Square.”

“
This
is your home?” she said, without looking away. It was grand and bigger even than Quin’s! White columns proudly stood sentinel alongside wide marble steps. Pristine gardens were generously illuminated with hidden gaslights.

“Aye, my home.”

She quirked an eyebrow. She could easily imagine herself as mistress of it.

When he reached for her hand, she said, “Wait! I can’t just go in with you like this!” Though she was dying to see the inside.

“We had a deal.”

“But not to go home with you!” They weren’t that far from the Weylands’. What if someone saw her?

“This idea really bothers you?” When she nodded, he leaned out and commanded, “Drive,” before shutting his door. The carriage rolled on once more. “Matters naught. I can take you in here as well as I can in a bed.”

“Take me?” Her eyes went wide. “I thought the bargain was only to touch.”

He pulled her into his lap again, his big hand resting on her hip with casual familiarity, as if they’d sat like this a hundred times. “Just trust me. I’ll make it good for you. You’ll have much diary fodder,” he said with a hint of a grin.

“You can have me, Scot. Completely. By noon tomorrow. That will give me enough time to skim over your account books, and for you to get a special license. We can be wed before lunch.”

He grasped her chin. “Understand, lass, that nothing on earth will move me to marry.
Nothing
.”

When she realized he was just like Quin, her heart sank. “I understand.” Unfortunately, she did and perfectly well—this was the second time today she’d heard that same sentiment, the second time she’d been turned down flat. Some men just weren’t the marrying kind, no matter how much they
should
be.

Which meant girls like her picked through the leftovers of gouty old counts.

“Make sure that you do,” he said, warning clear in his tone.

She absently nodded. At every turn tonight, she’d had her decision to marry Le Daex reinforced, but she shuddered to imagine the man heaving and grunting over her as he took her virginity. She, who adored beautiful men, wouldn’t lose her virtue to one. Yes, it was unfair, and suddenly—or, after the liquor and the Scot’s firm lips—it was intolerable.

She’d weathered misery after misery since her father had been shot, heaped on her as though by a cosmic jest. Like an animal caught in a snare, the more she struggled, the worse it seemed to get. She expected so little in return for her constant sacrifices, but this one aspect of her life—deciding who would introduce her to lovemaking—she could control. And her instincts were screaming that she could trust this mysterious stranger.

She nibbled her lip. Le Daex could be fooled to think she was untouched. Maddy’s landlady and best friend in Paris had been a virgin at all three of her weddings….

The Scot had told Maddy he’d be inside her tonight.

At that moment, she realized he was right.

“Very well.”

“Verra well, what?”

“If you wanted more…” She could feel him instantly pulsing harder beneath her.

“You’re…you want me tae take you,” he rasped, but it sounded like a question.

“Yes. I want more than the terms of our bargain,” she murmured. “I want you.”
To show me this…to give me this night to secretly treasure.

“What has changed your mind?”

She sighed. “My reasons are my own, Scot. Do you care anyway?”

He smirked, flashing white teeth. “No’ in the least.”

“So, um, in light of this, don’t you think we should take off our masks?” she asked.

“It adds something, do you no’ think?” He skimmed the backs of his fingers against her cheek under her mask.

She wasn’t shy by any means, but this was her first real encounter, and she had concerns about the desirability of her sparse frame. In other words, her breasts were small. The mask would help conceal heated blushes, and it suited her fine. Especially since this would be just one night—a single night of mystery and need. And then of endings. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

But he wasn’t listening, appearing captivated as his fingers glided over the line of her jaw. “So delicate,” he said absently, seeming not to realize he’d spoken aloud. Somehow she knew this wasn’t a mere seduction. He was exploring her, his eyes dark with curiosity. “I’ve no’ had a woman like you before.”

“Like me?”

“So slight.” He traced the shell of her ear, making her shiver. “I’m almost afraid to put my hands on you.”

“Oh, don’t say that.”

“I said
almost
. Nothing could stop me from taking you tonight.” He trailed his fingers down, running the pads over her collarbone. As he brushed lower, her breaths grew harried, her chest rising and falling madly under his touch. When he reached the edge of her tight bodice, he worked his fingers inside. Slowly delving, pressing deeper…deeper…until the tip of his forefinger met her throbbing nipple.

“Oh, my God,” she moaned, clutching both of her hands on the back of his neck.

“Delicate…and sensitive.” He languidly rolled her swollen nipple, rasping, “You like that.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she nodded.

When he withdrew his hand she wanted to keen, but she was mollified to see that he’d begun an attempt on the laces of her bodice. The ties, however, were thin and difficult to manage even for her. After fumbling for several moments, he gave a growl of frustration and curled his big fingers inside the fabric.

When she realized he was about to yank, she opened her mouth to sputter her outrage—she’d gone into debt to afford this dress!—but then, he released her. With a frown of concentration, he endeavored it again.

Something in her softened toward him—even more. “Let me, Scot,” she said, removing his hands with a tender kiss to each palm.

At different points in the evening, she’d noticed that he would hesitate, drawing back for the briefest moment as though to take time to think. He did that now. She’d begun to wonder if she was behaving incorrectly—this
was
her first affair—or if what was happening between them was just completely different from what he was used to. She suspected the latter.

Once she’d freed the laces at last, he pulled wide the edges of her gown. As he unhurriedly tugged down the gauzy cups of her corset to bare her, she swallowed.
It’s dark. He can’t really see me….
When cool air caressed her breasts, she willed herself not to turn her face away or to cover herself with her hands.

He hissed something in a foreign language, possibly Gaelic.

“What did you say?” she asked nervously.

“I said I’m goin’ tae kiss these all night.” He ran the backs of his fingers over both of her nipples, his gaze flickering over her face, gauging her response. She sucked in a breath and felt the tips hardening even more, right before his eyes.

Then he cupped her with his hot, scratchy palms. “
You could no’ be softer.
” He covered her small breasts completely, kneading until she grew sensuously warm and wet between her legs.

Exactly how had she been living without this?

When he removed his hands to shrug out of his jacket, she found herself arching forward for them. He made a grated sound that might have been a chuckle. “Greedy lass,” he said, but she thought he was pleased. He returned his hands to her. “Then undo my shirt for me.” He might have been making fun of her, but she didn’t care. Her need urged her on.

As she struggled with his buttons, he leaned down to nuzzle her nipples, his hot breaths making them throb, but he didn’t suckle her, only teased until she was squirming on his lap, writhing over his jutting erection.

He finally set upon her breasts with his hot mouth. “
Oh, my God
,” she whispered as he dragged his tongue over her stiffened nipple. When she vaguely perceived his hand under her skirts, his fingers ascending from her knee to her thigh, she said, “Scot, I…please go slow. I want you. Oh, God!” she cried as he closed his lips around her aching peak, sucking her hard. “B-but can’t we go slower?”

He drew back. “Why?” he asked, seeming genuinely confused.

“I just think…maybe I would be more comfortable.”

“I’ve been long without a woman,” he said, his voice strained as he removed her from his lap to the bench. “I’ll do it slowly for the rest of tonight.” He wadded up his jacket and placed it behind her. “But for now, I need tae be inside you.” Her other nipple received the same fierce attention as the first as he pressed her back.

“Oh, God…that feels nice.” The way he touched her was proprietary, possessive—and a bit…
rough
. So why was she arching in delight? “But, Scot…you see…”

He leaned up then, meeting her eyes. “What is it?” His shirt gaped open, displaying his chiseled torso to her fascinated gaze, and she lost track of what she’d been about to say.

She could
touch
him. This was what she’d wondered about,
dreamed
about. She frantically yanked off her tormenting gloves to caress him. She sighed with delight when the muscles of his chest tensed and flexed to her touch so perfectly, as if she’d trained them over years.

She placed her palms flat and rubbed down over rigid indentations and swells, in a heaven of sensation, her fingertips tingling with delight at each new texture…his firm, smooth skin…the crisp hair in a trail just below his navel. She savored his reaction—his lids sliding shut, his jaw slackening.

Nearly dumbstruck with pleasure, she scarcely noticed that her skirts were suddenly rucked up to her waist.

Six

E
than burned for this, finally to have a woman after so long. Though it had never been his way, he wanted her throughout the night, to take her again and again. To kiss every inch of her ravishing body.

Before sending her along.

“Oh, my word,” she murmured, still seeming enthralled with his chest.

Her fingertips brushed him as though with reverence. He didn’t understand this tenderness—it was foreign to him—yet he couldn’t stop her.

“Your heart’s thundering.” She laid her hand over the center of his chest. “Are you nervous?”

“I’m no’
nervous,”
he lied, his voice unaccountably gruff. It had been so long that he feared he’d shame himself with one thrust. And for the first time in his life he cared about what his partner would think. He wanted not only to pleasure her but also to impress her. He wanted to be the best she’d ever had.

“You said you’ve been long without a woman. A very long while?” she asked.

“Aye, a verra long while,” he answered, shocked that he’d told her the truth.

“Well. I’m sure we can muddle through this together,” she said, sounding calm, but she’d begun trembling. He wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

Yet once his fingers skimmed up her smooth thighs to dip into the slit of her pantalettes, she relaxed. At his first touch between her legs, he shuddered with pleasure. “You’re wet for me,” he rasped, so damned excited by her. With one hand, he petted her breasts, and with the other, he ran his forefinger up and down her sex, taking her wetness to circle her little clitoris.

She cried out, arching her back. Soon she was undulating her hips with need, growing more wanton with each of his strokes. He wanted to taste her there, to delve his fingers inside her, but he knew he’d come immediately.

He absently recognized that two hours ago, he’d feared he was quit of this feeling, and now, with her…

Ethan was about to spill like an untried lad.

He had to take her before it became too late for him. When he removed his hands to hastily tug her pantalettes from her, she wriggled her chest to put her breast back under his palm.

My God, she’s a hot little piece.
He couldn’t imagine what riding her would be like.

With her undergarments removed and her skirts bunched at her waist, she shivered and whimpered with abandon. One coaxing press against her inner thigh and her knees slid open, without teasing. He began to wonder if her ungoverned responses—so unpracticed and therefore unfamiliar to him—were
innocent
responses. He’d never been with a virgin and didn’t intend to start tonight.

No, she kissed like a courtesan, accepting it when he took her mouth deeply, wetly. But just to be certain, he unfastened his trousers, releasing his sensitive shaft with a choked groan. “I want you tae stroke me.” A virgin’s touch would be hesitant, tentative.

She nodded and took him in her soft palm—his first contact in so long; he couldn’t prevent himself from bucking into her grip.

With her brows drawn, she eased her other hand down to expertly heft and tug his sack. When she thumbed the wet slit of his penis in slow circles, his eyes rolled back in his head. All doubt dispelled, he grated, “That’s enough. You’re going to see a man spill his seed if you doona stop.”

He nearly groaned when she nibbled her lip, clearly contemplating it. “Would that embarrass you?”

“No’ at all. In fact, sometime tonight I’ll have your eyes on me when I do.”