Master of Pleasure (26 page)

A lone candle lit the dark room, set by a small bottle of laudanum on a crate. The unevenly nailed crate was tucked beside a lumpy mattress on the floor that had been shoved up against the wall. Malcolm was propped up against well-piled and well-fluffed pillows, his dark hair scattered across his forehead. A plain grey-wool robe was well bundled around his large frame, covering the oversized linen nightshirt that exposed his throat and small V leading to a a glimpse of a smooth upper chest. Fresh linen she delivered earlier to the doctor draped Malcolm’s body to the waist.

His blue eyes, which appeared a touch hazy, brightened. He nudged himself onto his massive shoulder to look at her. “Leona, Leona, Leona.” He skimmed her calico gown. “It’s late. Why are you still dressed? Remove all of that female stuff and…
come over here
. We’re alone for the night, aren’t we? Sleep with me. Get naked.”

She pursed her lips. It was obvious he’d had more gin over the past few hours than laudanum. The laudanum would have put him to sleep, not encouraged him to further seduce. “I have to get up in the morning to start tackling duties around the house that include far more than cleaning. Now how about we give you a cap of laudanum so you can get some good sleep?”

He stared her down through a very visible haze. “Sleep is for ninnies. Now come here.” He tapped at his chest, almost missing it. “I want you naked and
here
. Where you belong. With me. You’re mine now.”

Her heart ached knowing that even in this condition he wanted her near. It meant their need for each other was not only genuine but mutual. “I want to, Malcolm, believe me, but after what happened between us earlier, I would rather we not.”

His features sobered. He lowered his gaze to his large hand and poked a scarred finger into the bundled linen beside his thigh. “But I…
enjoyed it
.”

That much was damn obvious. “I’m certainly pleased to hear you did. But let me preface that by saying I’m confused.”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “Confused?” His gruff voice hinted he had no idea what she was talking about. “By what?”

“You know full well what I’m talking about. You’re coherent enough to have a conversation with me right now, which means you’re also coherent enough to address my confusion. What happened between us five hours ago? Would you care to explain that to me?”

He puffed out a breath. “I’m a man, Leona.”

“Oh, I know
that
. There was never any doubt about
that
.”

He still didn’t meet her gaze. “Pardon me and the fact that I have…
needs
,” he grouched.

Sensing he was getting annoyed, she sighed, knowing it was best to be honest. “That whole situation made me beyond uncomfortable.
Beyond
. I’m still…”

Remembering the way he had tongued her and stroked himself in full view and how desperate he seemed to get her to pleasure him despite the blood and the dagger made her heart pound. If it had been any other man she would have twisted the blade in his leg, grabbed up her child and ran. Instead, she had morbidly taken his cock into her mouth to appease him and what appeared to be desperation. Which meant there was as something equally wrong with her as there was with him.

She blew out a breath. “It wasn’t the right time or the right place and you know it. Nor were you physically— I was torn between wanting to be scared and— What you did was— Are you out of your mind?”

He muttered something in private annoyance, and still poking a finger into the linen, confessed, “Maybe I am. But you…this…I…I don’t know what I’m doing, Leona. All right? I’m merely responding to how I feel when I’m around you. So don’t…
Be nice
. I’ve never done this with a woman before. Not even in my own head. You’re the first woman I ever allowed in my life and into my bed and I…Be nice.”

She blinked rapidly in complete disbelief. Upon her life. Was he serious? She had remembered him mentioning not kissing anyone since he was eighteen, but she hadn’t actually thought he was also a… “You’ve never been with a woman before?” she echoed. “Not
ever
?”

He grudgingly flopped his hand to the pillow beside him, giving her a withering look. “Go on. Laugh about it. Tell all of London my
cock
hasn’t been
christened
. Do you think I care?” His voice got progressively louder and louder to ensure she got the point. “I’ll have you know,
pigeon
, I was
waiting
for the right woman. And pardon me for thinking you were the
right woman
. Was I wrong in thinking it?” He stared, lowering his mildly stubbled chin. “Did I raise the entire fucking sail for a wind that doesn’t exist? You tell me. You. Tell. Me.”

Her skin prickled. Aside from the language, it was overwhelming to know out of all the women in the world, he’d chosen her.
Her
. Why…her? It made her want to panic because she didn’t want to disappoint him anymore than she wanted to be disappointed
by
him.

She closed the door, sensing their conversation was about to get very involved and very loud. “You could have chosen a better time to seduce me, you know. You could have made it a little more…Oh, I don’t know…
enticing
? Because a blade in the thigh with blood all over the place is more like Death’s idea of romance.”

He still stared with his chin lowered and slurred out, “Death?
Reaaaally
? Well, now, I guess
I’m
confused what
your
idea of
romance is
. You must be as pathetically ignorant about it as I am.”

She pulled in her chin. “I beg your pardon.”

He squinted as if she were disappearing. “Why did you put your entire mouth on my cock if you didn’t want it?”

She gasped, feeling her entire face burn. “You didn’t give me much of a choice. You-you…
insisted
. You wanted me to do it!”

He snorted. “If I could get you to do
everything
I wanted you to do, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’d be getting you pregnant right now so Jacob could have a sibling and head straight to Persia.”

Of all the— She glared. “Don’t make me march over to that bed and poke that wound. I’ll do it. I’ll hurt you. I’ll treat you like a creditor.”

His husky features darkened. He slowly slid the linens away from himself, tossed it to his knees and presented his left thigh buried beneath his wool robe and night-shirt. “By all means.
Do it
. Make me want you more. I dare you.”

She rolled her eyes. This man was like Satan and a few hundred angels combined. “There is something seriously wrong with you.”

He paused and shifted his jaw. Not meeting her gaze, he half-nodded and eventually breathed out, “I don’t need this right now, Leona. I really don’t. The gin is wearing off and I…” He was quiet for a moment, his features twisting. “I’m well aware there is something wrong with me. You don’t need to fling it. Now go. Leave. I’m tired and…need the rest.” He reached down for the linen with an uncooperative hand and swatted fingers toward the linen well beyond his reach. He winced but kept trying. And trying. And…trying.

Her heart dropped to her knees then the floor. He needed her. And not just for the linens. She trailed over to him, lowering herself to the mattress and carefully taking the edges of the rumpled linen around his feet, pulled it gently up and over him to the waist. She leaned in close, the sharp lingering scent of gin penetrating the air around her as she tucked the linen around his large frame and smoothed everything into place.

She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to understand you, not hurt you. I…I like you. A lot. Maybe even more than a lot. And I want to understand you. Is that wrong of me?”

He stilled and captured her gaze, his broad chest lifting and falling unevenly.

Scooting closer to him, until she was tucked beside his good side, hip to hip, she eventually murmured, “If you don’t need any laudanum, I’ll just stay with you until you fall asleep.”

His entire arm jumped around her, startling her. Tightening his muscled hold on her shoulder to ensure she was tucked closely against him, he sat them both against the pillows and rigidly dragged his free hand through her hair, tugging it loose from her pins. “If you stay,” he rasped into her ear, “I won’t sleep. Especially after hearing you say what you just did. Because now I…I only want to think of all the ways I can get you to love me. Because I want you to, Leona. I want you to love me so fucking much, you’d be willing to accept what I am. Can’t you? Won’t you?”

She breathed lightly between parted lips, unable to resist everything he was. Her thoughts and her body felt hazy as if she had also been taken by three bottles of gin. She actually felt like that dreamy, open-mouthed girl she thought she abandoned so many, many years ago. The one who wanted to naïvely believe in the beauty of the whole world until her life had been ripped from her hands and replaced with the shame of knowing she was nothing more than the last sardine in a tin no one wanted.

“Leona,” he whispered. “Be mine.”

In that moment, and with his unspoken promise of all the things to come, she knew she already loved him. She already loved him for being so good, so honorable, so gruff, so stupid, so determined and so everything that wasn’t perfect. He didn’t need to be perfect. He was perfect being
imperfect
.

The warmth of his lips dragged across her cheek as he bent his head closely to hers. His bottom teeth gently nipped their way down, down to her throat as he tightened his hold. His other hand came up and one by one, he undid the hooks on her gown. “I can be gentle,” he murmured. “I can. I can do this the way any normal man can. And I will. For you, I will.”

Her head heavily lulled back against his massive shoulder as he continued to unhook her to the waist, exposing her corset and chemise. A dream within a dream.

Malcolm lowered her to the mattress, staggering against the effects of the gin, and skimmed his hands down her throat. He peeled her sleeves off her shoulders and yanked them off. Pushing the gown off her hips, he shoved it past her knees.

In between heavy breaths, he skimmed his hands down her bare arms and toward her breasts hidden beneath the rigid corset. He tugged at it from the top and then the sides and paused. Then tugged again. He searched her face. “How the hell do you take this off?” he rasped. “I want it off. Why won’t it come off?”

A choked laugh escaped her. “There are lacings in the back.”

“Lacings?” His brows came together as he tilted her away and dug his hands beneath her, his fingers cascading down the expanse of sixteen ridges of tightened laces. He seethed out a breath. “Rot me, this is going to take forever. Why the blazes are you wearing this? It’s impractical.”

She bit back a smile. “Tell that to society.”

He muttered something and staggered to sit up. He winced and wagged his fingers toward her. “I’m going to try to do this without using my teeth. Sit up. We’re doing this.”

She awkwardly sat up and peered at him from over her bare shoulder, the strip of her chemise grazing her chin. “Are you…
certain
you want to do this? You’re still recovering, you know. Aren’t you in pain?”

“Pain and I are good friends, Leona. Very good friends. Now let me focus.” He aggressively tugged and yanked out the lacings, one by one by one. He gritted his teeth and kept tugging and pulling and tugging in an attempt to loosen them. “I damn well want to…stab whoever….invented this in the…
neck
. Why isn’t this— How am I supposed to—”

“Did you untie the lace at the bottom,
pigeon
?” she offered, quirking her brow.

He yanked it loose in exasperation. “This damn thing outwitted me.”

Malcolm loosened the lacing with three separate tugs, gaping it wide open. Pulling it up over her arms and head, he whipped it across the room. He bundled the chemise up past her thighs and yanked it up and over her head, as well, tossing it to the floor, as well.

He paused and let out a whistle. “Leona, I just stopped breathing.”

She bit her lip knowing he was staring at her naked body.

His hot hands cupped her breasts and rounded them, sending a shiver through her.

“Come here.” He captured her mouth and kissed her for a long, roaming moment, circling his tongue against hers with precise and controlled intent. Breaking their kiss, he lowered his disheveled head down to each of her nipples, letting his tongue flick across each until she was covered with goose flesh.

Her body ached for far, far more as he licked and kissed the curve of each breast until she was out of breath. She dragged her hands into his thick, soft hair and instinctively tightened her hold on it, tugging it hard to demand he push his length into her. “I’m ready,” she breathed.

He groaned and choked out against her skin with the heat of his breath, “Keep it…civil. The gin is fading fast and I’m trying to—”

She tugged on his hair even harder, silently commanding him to ride her.