Led Astray by a Rake (12 page)

“Cook has overdone herself with these,” he admitted.

“You should try the cheese,” she suggested.

He did, and suddenly he seemed to realize he
was hungry, wolfing down meat and bread as well.

“I am quite certain Mr. Garsed doesn’t offer his guests pickled onions,” she said, sipping her wine.

“You’re probably right. I apologize for my lack of taste.”

“I can honestly say that if it came to a choice I’d much rather be sitting here with you than at a banquet with him.”

He began to answer, and then his gaze slid down and he froze. Olivia froze, too, because she knew what he was looking at. Her sneezing had caused her wretched dress to slip again.

“Olivia,” he said, although it was more of a groan.

Instinctively she reached to tug up her dress, but something far more fundamental made her stop. The heat in his eyes had lit an answering fire in her, and already she could feel it burning deep inside. “Nic,” she whispered.

He seemed to be struggling with himself, but either he didn’t struggle very hard or his need to do what he wanted was too powerful to be stopped. A heartbeat later he was kneeling on the patterned rug before her, his mouth on hers.

N
ic forgot his resolutions. He forgot his latest plan, to place her safely in Theodore’s hands, before setting off for Paris. He even forgot the abominable ache in his leg, although it did give a nasty twinge when he dropped to his knees before her chair. All he cared about was the touch, the feel, the scent of Olivia Monteith. His world was full of her and only her, and as her soft mouth clung to his, his practiced fingers were busy un-hooking her dress and letting it fall to her waist, so that he could release her glorious breasts into his hands.

Olivia clutched his shoulders, then her arms slid around his neck, clinging to him as if she thought she might fall. Gently he began to taste her, his tongue laving the curves and circling the peaks. While he worked on one breast with his mouth, he held the other in his hand, his thumb brushing back and forth over her turgid nipple. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she made little sounds of enjoyment.

Nic glanced up at her through his lashes. Her
eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, and her mouth reddened from his kisses. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and this time he wasn’t going to let some foolish idea of gentlemanly conduct or past history stop him. She was his for the taking and he’d bloody well take her.

He planned to lift her down onto the rug beside him, but as he began to ease her from the chair, she seemed to know what he was about, and slid down herself, so quickly that she landed on the floor with a bump. Nic caught her in his arms, and they tumbled to one side, landing amid a tangle of legs and a flurry of her skirts. Her face was resting so close to his he could see the faint sprinkling of freckles on her nose, and the thick frame of her dark lashes about her bright blue eyes.

Olivia smiled.

Nic, the hardened rake, who thought he could never be emotionally touched by a woman, knew he’d been wrong.

Reaching out, he cupped her cheek and leaned forward to kiss her, tilting his head so that he could make the most of her lush mouth. She responded eagerly, without a hint of coyness or doubt, wrapping her arms about his neck and wriggling against him. He slid his tongue between her teeth, teasing her. He was aware that his cock was painfully hard, but he was trying to hang on to some vestige of his famous technique, when all he wanted to do was plunder her.

Physical pleasure, he reminded himself feverishly, trying to focus, was a matter of balancing
control with passion, using technique to increase excitement by stepping back from the brink, over and over again, so as to intensify the final climax. There was a certain pragmatic quality about making love, and usually he had no trouble in remembering that.

Olivia gave a little groan, throwing her foot over his legs, sliding her calf along his thigh, as if she wanted to climb inside his flesh. He rolled over onto his back and pulled her along with him, so that she sprawled across him, all soft curves and heated womanhood. Her hair, hanging from its pins in loose strands, tickled his nose. He nuzzled against her arched throat, working his way up to her mouth, and then nipping at her lips.

She squeaked. He felt her breath in his ear, and her fingers tugging at his starched and ironed neck cloth. Abbot would be appalled at such cavalier treatment of his creation, but neither of them cared. She pulled the crisp linen away and pressed her nose into the hollow of his throat. He drew up her skirts, feeling her stockings and her garters, and then the warm, bare flesh of her thighs. She gave a gasp and wriggled against him, eager for more contact. Nic was happy to oblige.

As she fumbled at the fastenings of his shirt, Nic revisited the familiar territory of her silky bloomers, cupping the full globes of her bottom in his palms, arching his hips against her. She groaned, her mouth open. She’d given up on the fastenings of his shirt, and instead she’d pulled the cloth up to his shoulders, exposing his bare chest
to her gaze. Now she began to kiss him, nuzzling the dark hair that grew there; her breasts rested against him, the peaks brushing his skin.

She was so sensitive that even that brief contact must have affected her, because she looked up at him, her eyes heavy and bright beneath her lashes. Slowly, daringly, she bent low and allowed her nipples to brush against him again. He took them in his fingers, tugging at the hard little nubs, and she gasped. Her body was still resting on his, and her thighs opened and slipped down, so that her knees were anchored on either side of his slim hips.

Olivia pressed her palms against his chest and sat up, gazing down at him through the tangle of her hair, watching as he stroked her breasts, lost in sensation. Nic was watching her. Each time he stroked her, a tremor seemed to run over her soft skin, and he could feel the heat from her. She was ready, more than ready, but there was still a long way to go.

He stretched up to take her nipple in his mouth once more, and at the same time slipped his hand inside her bloomers and began to stroke her warm, slick flesh. She moved against him, her eyes closed, her entire being focused on the sensations he was creating within her. The flush beneath her skin, the hard peaks of her breasts, the little sounds coming from her, all told him that she was very close to her climax.

He slid his fingers inside her, using his palm to press down on her sensitive bud. Olivia bucked
against him, nails digging into his chest. “Nic,” she wailed. He began to tug at her nipples with his mouth, rough, his fingers slipping in and out of her, bringing her closer and closer to her peak. And then she was there, gasping and crying out, her body clenching on him as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Nic gave her only a few moments to recover. Suddenly he was feeling selfish. He didn’t want to wait. He needed to be inside her, possessing her, while she moaned into his mouth.

He sat up, lifting her in his arms so that she was still cuddled against him, her legs straddling his, her skirts bunched around them. Her body was open and ready; she was as relaxed as a virgin could be. Nic reached down, unbuttoning his trousers, freeing his rigid cock.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he commanded her in a deep rasp.

She complied, still dazed from her first climax.

He cupped her face in his palms, forcing her to look into his eyes. For a moment he simply gazed at her, enjoying the disheveled picture she made, and the fact that she was his. “Now,” he groaned, and thrust forward, bringing her hips against him at the same time, and breached her maidenhead in one strong, smooth motion.

She hardly had time to cry out before he was kissing her, caressing her lips with his, sucking on them, and murmuring soothing words. Soon she was returning his kisses, winding her arms about his neck and opening her mouth in her growing
passion. He cupped her breast, gently squeezing the full flesh, taking his time although his cock was threatening to explode where it was lodged deep inside her. But he held his hips still, and forced himself to retain control.

It was Olivia who moved first, rocking her hips against him, tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence. The stem of his shaft was rubbing against her sensitive bud, giving her pleasure, and she bit her lip as the excitement began to tighten inside her. He began to move with her, sliding slowly out, and then slowly back inside again. He was wondering if there was a place in rake heaven for men who could show such patience as he, when all he really wanted to do was be a caveman.

But that wouldn’t gain him the result he desired. Gentle patience now would be time well spent in the future. It would repay him well as Olivia became more experienced and they could enjoy more varied pursuits together…

His mind froze as he realized what he was thinking, what he was considering. The future, what future? But before he could do anything about it, Olivia reached down between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around the base of his thick shaft, holding him firmly. He tried not to wince as his sensitive flesh ached for more.

“Nic,” she whispered, her breath warm and sweet against his throat. “You’re inside me. Deep inside me. You’ve made me yours.”

“Not yet,” he said.

“When then?” she demanded, leaning back to look into his face. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

She was right; it was time. Cupping her bottom, Nic lifted her, and laid her down on her back on the rug. Her legs were apart, her body wide open to his perusal. He ran his fingers down the slick cleft, and then back again, circling her bud with one fingertip.

“Nic,” she groaned, and he knew she was going to come again, and this time he wanted to be inside her when it happened. He set his cock at her entrance and paused. The anticipation was beyond anything he could ever remember, and he’d felt a great deal over the years. He gave himself a moment to revel in it, and then he thrust into her.

Her body was tight, enveloping him, rippling as he moved with increasing momentum. The ache inside him was building to beyond anything he’d known before.

“Nic, please…” she gasped.

“A little more,” he said, driving hard now, and pressing deep. He forgot to be gentle, he forgot it was her first time. She whimpered, her hips moving beneath him, and he shifted slightly, so that his shaft rubbed against the little nub, ensuring her ultimate pleasure. She cried out, and her inner muscles clenched about him. Her body was wracked with shudders, and she arched up against him, as if to gain the last drop of ecstasy. At the same time he felt himself release inside her,
his body going rigid. He shouted out her name, feeling the tremendous wave of pleasure roar through him.

I’ve given her this
, Nic told himself feverishly.
Whatever happens from now on, I’ve shown her the pleasure to be found between a woman and a man
. He believed, arrogantly perhaps, that any further experience she might have would be measured against this one.

For a time they lay still, but Nic was already becoming aware that he was heavy and he lifted himself up, taking his weight from her. She made a little sound of protest, as if she liked to be squashed. He bent to run his tongue lazily over her breasts, and felt her shiver in response.

She turned her head and smiled at him, and he knew then that it was true—she was his. She was completely and totally his.

O
livia had never felt so close to anyone in her life. She’d said things to him she’d never said before, she’d been naked in his arms, exchanged deep kisses, and been intimate in so many ways. Never before had she experienced this heat and passion in a man’s arms, Nic’s arms, and she knew that it had changed her. It would be impossible for her to be the same again.

She didn’t want to be the same again.

Slowly, savoring every moment, she opened her eyes. Nic was leaning back in an armchair, with his arm wrapped around her as she sat curled on his lap. Her dress was now decently covering her breasts, and Nic had poured himself a brandy from the decanter beside him. She blinked—the room was different. Vaguely, she remembered being carried through the silent house and up the stairs, and into a darkened chamber. The fire was lit and the room was warm, and as she looked about her she saw a bed with tapestry curtains.

This was Nic’s bedchamber.

He smiled at her over the rim of his glass.
“Good morning,” he said, gesturing toward the window. She followed his glance and saw that it was truly morning now, the sun outside setting the undrawn curtains aglow.

Her body ached in places that were new to her, and she felt sleepy and wildly alive at the same time. She reached up to touch his jaw, feeling the rasp of the beard that was a dark shadow against his skin. He was still wearing his evening clothes, and despite the circles under his eyes and his slightly rumpled appearance, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

He lifted the glass to her lips and she sipped, some brandy trickling down her chin. He set the glass down, and got busy with the tip of his tongue, lapping up the liquid. When he was done, he smiled and began to kiss her, slowly, intensely.

Olivia knew there were so many things to say, so many things to do—the most important being to get home without causing a shocking scandal—but right now nothing seemed to matter but returning Nic’s kisses and the growing warm rush of returning desire.

Rakes definitely made the best lovers.

“Nic…”

“Mmm?”

He was exploring the curve of her ear, and she felt the rasp of his teeth against her earlobe, sending a shiver down her backbone. He cupped her breast through the black dress, and the sight of his long fingers doing something so intimate was
enough to make her gasp and squirm into his arms.

It occurred to her that he had spent a great deal of time touching her, undressing her, and she wanted to do the same to him. Was she brave enough, did she dare? Olivia ran her fingers across his broad shoulder, until she reached his neck. He hadn’t put his neck cloth back on after she all but tore it from him, and now she stroked his warm skin. His shirt was open at the top, and she could see a tantalizing strand or two of hair from the thick mat across his chest. There was a pulse in his throat and she pressed her lips to it, and the scent of him, the feel of him, ignited a spark inside her.

Olivia knew she could do this; she would.

“Take off your jacket,” she said, reaching to help him slip his arms from the sleeves, tugging the garment from him and dropping it to the floor. Next came his shirt, and he raised his arms as she pulled it over his head, and also discarded it. His naked chest was right there in all its masculine glory, and she ran her palms over it, enjoying the different textures of skin and muscle and hair. She traced a circle around his left nipple with her fingertip, fascinated by the flat, dark shape and the desire-hardened nub in the center. When she bent to close her lips over him, he made a murmur of approval, and the knowledge that he was enjoying what she was doing as much as she was enjoying doing it gave her even more confidence. It urged her on.

Olivia found his other nipple, and spent some time there. The sensation was intensely erotic for her, the realization that she was in control of him and he was submitting to her. Next she explored his stomach, and the dark line of hair running down to his navel and on to the fastening of his trousers. Suddenly it seemed very important she follow that line. She ran her tongue as far as she could, feeling him shudder, and then her fingers began to work on the buttons.

Her heart was beating hard. She was seducing him, and he was allowing it. In fact—she glanced up at him—he was enjoying it. Nic was watching her beneath half-lowered lids, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath he took. She thought he might tell her what to do, after all he’d made her believe he preferred his lovers to be well tutored in his likes and dislikes, but he said nothing.

This sense of power, of being in control, was something Olivia had never imagined she’d feel in such a situation. All her life she’d been told that the man was to be deferred to in such matters, that the woman must be compliant, bearing it as best she could. But here she was, doing exactly as she wished, and Nic was allowing it.

Olivia slipped her hand inside his trousers and found him, hard and ready. She took him in her hand, exploring this part of him with a sense of wonder. Steel and velvet, she decided, but there was nothing inanimate about him. He was so alive. She bent closer, and then ran her tongue along his stem.

He groaned. “Yes.”

Olivia pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up at him. He was sprawled back in the chair, hands clenched on the carved wooden arms, his face a taut mask of pleasure. He was hers, she thought in wonder. Who would have thought that an inexperienced young lady could have a rake at her mercy like this?

Emboldened, Olivia bent over him again, and this time she took him into her mouth.

He jerked, catching her head, holding her still while he thrust gently. The experience was new and exciting, and she was prepared to go further, but he had other plans. Nic stood up. Half naked, he stared down at her, like some magnificent and savage idol, with his shaft rising up toward his belly, and his skin gleaming in the firelight. Beneath his hooded lids his dark eyes glittered with an inner fire of their own, and he reached down to her, fingers outstretched.

“Come to bed,” he said.

“Yes,” she whispered, taking his hand and rising to her feet.

The bed was old and grand, with four posts and the tapestry hangings. It looked like something that was befitting Lord Lacey of Castle Lacey. A little voice murmured in her head:
How many women have lain here?
But she ignored it. The past didn’t matter, she told herself firmly. It was now, the present, that was important.

Perhaps he read something of her thoughts, because he spoke in a low, deep voice. “Do you
think a Lacey and a Monteith have ever stood here before now? The first Lord de Lacey held droit du seigneur over his tenants. My wicked ancestor had only to see a girl in the fields and fancy her, and he could have her brought to his bed.”

Olivia had been struggling with her dress fastenings, and now the black silk and velvet pooled at her feet. She began to take out her few remaining pins, letting her hair fall. “Your ancestor doesn’t sound very nice,” she said.

He came and stood before her, a strange smile on his face. “He wasn’t.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “Nic?”

“It’s said he had a way of transfixing the girls, forcing them to his will by the sheer power of his personality.”

She stepped back now, frowning at him, wondering where this was going. “I find that difficult to believe.”

He reached out and caught her chin in his fingers, holding her almost painfully. “Let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

Her heart gave an uneasy jolt. He was playing games with her, perhaps even trying to frighten her away, and she was frightened—a little bit. But she was also excited, and it was the excitement that made her nod her head in acquiescence.

“Lie down on your back, demoiselle,” he murmured.

The bed was far bigger than she was used to, and the mattress softer. An avalanche of pillows and bolsters was scattered about them, as Olivia
lay down, wriggling to get comfortable. Nic climbed over her, his hands catching her wrists and holding them above her head.

“Open your legs,” he commanded.

She could feel his cock against the apex of her thighs, seeking entrance. Slowly she opened her legs, and felt him settle between them. The only part of their bodies touching was from the waist down—he held himself up from her chest. He wouldn’t hurt her, she was certain of that. She trusted him; she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t.

“Can you feel me?” he growled.

“Yes…”

He drove deep inside her, all the time watching her face. She strained against him, trying to initiate the caresses and kisses she enjoyed so much, but he held himself away.

“Can you feel me?” he asked again.

“I…I don’t understand. Nic?”

“Pretend I am my wicked ancestor, Olivia, and you my unwilling bedmate. Are you still unwilling?”

“If you have dragged me in from the fields then I am sure I am,” she said breathlessly.

He was moving inside her, first from side to side, then rotating in a way that seemed to touch every inch of her. And then he paused and his lips curled in a wicked smile.

“Are you sure you’re unwilling?” he said, and moved with a single deep thrust.

“Very unwilling,” she groaned, trying to nuzzle against his throat.

“Wait,” he commanded. “I want you totally mine.”

He narrowed his eyes and shifted again. And then he thrust inside her once more, and it was as if she took flight. Whatever he’d done, Olivia was beyond thought. She cried out, and her body convulsed with a bolt of such ecstasy she wondered if she was going to faint.

“Ah,” he growled, “you can feel me now.”

He thrust again, and pushed her over the edge before she even knew she was there. Her body clenched so hard around him that he lost his control, too, and gave a hoarse shout as he shattered.

They lay, trembling, unable to do more than breathe, until slowly the bedchamber came back into focus.

If this was what his wicked ancestor had done to the girls from the fields, Olivia thought, then she couldn’t understand why they were unwilling. No one could fight pleasure like that.

“Nic…” she tried to speak, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Sleep,” he said, drawing the covers over them both. He pulled her into his warm arms, kissing her temple. “Sleep, Olivia.”

So she did.