Nicole Jordan (27 page)

Her nipples had hardened at his first touch, and when his fingers traced a circle around the jutting tips, she stirred restlessly, obviously aroused by the sensation.

“Such lovely breasts,” Thorne murmured, cupping the sweet mounds in his palms. He bent to taste one peak, his tongue finding the bud, drawing it against his teeth.

Diana’s gasp shivered throughout the hushed room. When he plied the quivering nipple with his lips, she swayed weakly and clutched his arms for support.

It was only a few heartbeats later that Diana felt herself being guided backward, toward the sideboard. Thorne broke off momentarily and, with a sweep of his arm, cleared the center of a silver tea tray. Then he lifted her up and set her on the polished wooden surface, facing him. Before she could protest, he set his lips to her breast again.

The resulting sensations were so intoxicating that she involuntarily quieted. He laved her breasts, nipping gently, making a banquet of the swollen peaks. Diana closed her eyes in a daze of passion.

Still savoring her, he pushed up her delicate skirts, baring all her secrets to him, then slowly smoothed his palms up the insides of her naked thighs. Diana tensed at the delicious heat his erotic caresses were kindling in her.

When he parted the nest of silken curls, she could feel the muscles of her thighs clench. And when he slid his fingers over her pulsing warmth, she whimpered.

“Lie back, love,” Thorne ordered, his own voice a husky, sensual rasp.

One hand still caressing between her parted legs, the other pressed her shoulder so that she leaned back helplessly to brace her weight on her elbows.

“I’ve been longing to put my mouth on you.”

Excitement pierced Diana as she realized his brazen intent.

Bending, he brushed a probing kiss over her feminine cleft, and her body tightened unbearably at the touch of his hot mouth.

Then his tongue probed the silky crevice between her thighs, touching the swollen bud of her sex, lightly gliding over its distended surface.

A delicious shock flared through her body.

Gasping, she pushed against his shoulders to no avail. “No—Oh, Thorne—”

“Yes,”
he said against her hot flesh, punctuating his reply with soft, wicked kisses.

Diana desperately tried to shift her hips, seeking to escape his ravishing mouth, but his hands closed over her hips, holding her captive.

As a wave of delight swept over her, her protest wafted away on a soft moan, and she fell back in wanton surrender.

With a satisfied murmur, Thorne spread her legs wider and held her to him even more firmly, his face pressed hard against her as he explored the yielding, warm folds with his mouth.

Again running his tongue over her throbbing center, he found the swollen tip of her most sensitive flesh, that point of hot pleasure that could leave her sobbing with ecstasy.

Diana responded with a surge of excitement and arched against his mouth as sensation jolted through her.

His lips closed over the taut, erectile nub then, and gently suckled. Diana gave a strangled moan at the intimate caress.

“Good…I like to hear you moan for me,” Thorne muttered hoarsely.

Incapable of defense against her longing, she let her head fall back and gave herself up to the fierce heat inflaming her senses. Her hips rose involuntarily at the scalding lap and probe of his tongue.

He was savoring her with exquisite skill, deliberately tormenting the quivering, throbbing bud that was the heart of her pleasure, leaving her feverish and frantic, holding her there on the cusp of completion and not allowing her release.

“That’s right, tremble for me, sweeting…. I want to know I am pleasing you.”

She couldn’t help but comply, he was pleasing her so gloriously. Her body was aching shamelessly for him. “Thorne, I can’t bear it—”

He made a raw, satisfied sound deep in his throat and hooked his arms under her thighs, draping her legs over his shoulders to give himself even better access to her secrets.

Fire leapt from his mouth into her flesh, dragging a wrenching shudder from her. His hot, rasping tongue moved in heated pulses over her, tracing and stroking and caressing. And every touch sent her nerves careening. Her breath grew rapid and harsh; her hands rose to his hair, desperately clutching.

Thorne himself was breathing hard, as if touching her excited him beyond bearing. Then, incredibly, he increased her excitement.

When Diana felt the hot wetness of his tongue thrust slowly inside her, the pleasure was so acute, she nearly screamed.

His fingers left her hips then, and came up to cup her breasts. It was the most erotic experience of her life. His face between her burning thighs, his hands moving over her bare breasts, provocatively kneading, while his tongue plunged rhythmically into her, ravishing her ruthlessly.

Her soft, eager whimpers turned to sobs.

She was shuddering uncontrollably now, awash with passion, her skin flaming, her body melting as he plundered her depths with tender savagery. Her breath was burning in and out of her lungs.

Helplessly Diana tossed her head back and forth in frantic pleasure, until suddenly, finally, heat exploded in her like a sunburst, wild sparks of fire that fountained upward.

The sounds of frenzy in her throat filled the hush of the orangery as she climaxed, dissolving into throbbing, impassioned release.

A shudder of primal triumph rocked Thorne. A long moment passed, however, before he rose above Diana to gather her trembling body against him, wrapping her in his arms as if she were something precious he needed to shield and protect.

He
did
need to shield and protect her, he knew—from himself. He lay half-sprawled between her parted thighs, fighting his fiercest desires, clinging to the shreds of his noble intentions.

This was the crucial moment for decision. He knew he could seduce Diana and bring her to the point where she begged for him to go inside her. She was moist and hot and insanely inviting; he was so aroused, he thought he might explode.

But she was also technically a virgin. And taking her would be an irrevocable step. He forced himself to breathe over the burning ache in his loins as desire warred with his conscience.

He would forever wonder what his decision would have been, for just then he heard a whisper of sound behind him, like the orangery door opening.

An instant later a female voice called softly, “Lord Thorne, are you here?”

Thorne froze, while beneath him, Diana gave a frantic start.

“Lord Thorne, I saw you come in here.”

He thought he recognized the voice, and it was definitely moving closer through the concealing vegetation.

Not wanting to be discovered in such a dissolute state, he put his fingers to Diana’s lips, hushing her, then quietly helped her straighten her bodice to cover her breasts and pulled down her skirts.

Even in the dim light, her gown looked disheveled, her swollen mouth lush and wet, her hair mussed, as if she’d been thoroughly ravished.

He had just lifted her from the sideboard and set her down on shaking limbs when the voice spoke again from a few yards behind him.

“So you
are
here. I thought so.”

Keeping his body close to Diana’s in order to conceal her, Thorne turned to face the intruder. His guess was right; it was Miss Emma Marling, the irritating little schemer who had deviously tried to ensnare him in her clutches earlier this year.

Miss Marling gave him a sly smile as she eyed his tousled hair. “For shame, Lord Thorne, taking advantage of a lady this way. Or perhaps not a
lady…
”

She let the words trail off suggestively, clearly implying that any female who would let herself be caught in such a secluded place with a rake like Thorne didn’t deserve the title of lady.

Swearing a pithy expletive under his breath, Thorne took a step forward, wanting to close his fingers around the malicious chit’s neck. He felt certain she knew Diana’s identity—

Feeling Diana’s warning touch on his arm, though, he flexed his fists, forcing himself to reply calmly. “You do have the most deplorable tendency to appear where you are unwanted, Miss Marling.”

“And you, my lord, have a deplorable tendency to be caught seducing virtuous maidens. But then Miss Sheridan is hardly virtuous, is she?”

Behind Thorne, Diana felt her heart thudding, her dismay rising with each snide remark the girl made. Refusing to cower any longer, she raised her chin and stepped out from his protection.

“Lord Thorne did not seduce me, Miss Marling. And in any case, we are betrothed.”

“But you are not yet wed. Just think of the delicious scandal you will cause. You haven’t even recovered from the last scandal yet.”

It was true, Diana thought, her heart sinking. Society would never forgive her this time. She had little doubt Emma Marling was spiteful enough to reveal this new transgression to anyone who would listen, and no doubt whatsoever that the resultant gossip would spread like wildfire. Her ruination would be complete.

But she forced a smile and answered evenly. “I know you envy me, Miss Marling, but green is not a becoming color for you.”

The girl glared, looking as if she longed to scratch Diana’s eyes out. “You will regret making game of me, see if you don’t!” Spinning on her heel then, she stalked away.

The slamming of the orangery door reverberated through the entire building. In the aftermath, the trickling fountain was the only sound Diana could hear.

She was uncomfortably aware that Thorne had turned and was eyeing her with a morose, hooded gaze.

Diana shut her own eyes, bowing her head as a turmoil of emotions roiled through her dazed mind—dismay, mortification, anger…. But the strongest was regret for her reckless idiocy. She had no excuse for her shameful behavior. Thorne had been accused of seducing her, but she was as much to blame as he was. More so, in fact, since she had known where her surrender could lead—

Thorne’s next harshly murmured words, however, took her breath away: “That settles it,” he said into the silence. “Our betrothal is no longer a pretense. We will wed for real.”

Twelve

D
iana stiffened,
wondering if she had misheard—or worse, if Thorne’s wits had suddenly gone begging. “What do you mean, wed for real?”

“It’s simple. Our betrothal was conceived as a ruse, merely for show. But this changes things. You will marry me—the sooner, the better.”

“I certainly will not marry you! You promised that our betrothal would only be temporary—”

“That was before this latest contretemps. A scandal will be unavoidable now. The only way to quiet it will be for us to wed.”

Diana stared at Thorne in disbelief, realizing he was entirely serious. “You can’t possibly want to marry me. You have no desire to wed anyone.”

He smiled with sardonic amusement. “Perhaps not, but I intend to give you the protection of my name. That wretched little schemer was right—your reputation won’t withstand a fresh uproar.”

“That doubtless is true, but I won’t let you sacrifice yourself on the altar of matrimony out of guilt, Thorne. I could never look you in the eye again, knowing I had trapped you.”

“You hardly trapped me, love. I’m totally at fault for bringing you here.”

Diana shook her head adamantly. “I don’t hold you to blame. I came here willingly and fully participated.”

“I would dispute that.” Turning, he leaned lazily back against the sideboard and regarded her silently, cocking one eyebrow, as if trying to understand her. “I am making you a perfectly legitimate offer of marriage this time, Diana. I find it hard to credit that you would refuse.”

At that comment, she shrugged in frustration. “Your noble intentions are laudable, but nobility is a terrible basis for marriage.”

“Other than that, what objections do you have to marrying me?”

“What objections do I
not
have?” She couldn’t believe he was even asking such a question. She didn’t want a marriage of convenience with a rakish husband who didn’t love her. Certainly not a marriage with Thorne, for if any man could break her heart again, it would be he.

“There are dozens, but the biggest is that you don’t love me,” she stated flatly. “And I don’t love you.”

“Love is beside the point at this juncture.”

Exasperated, Diana raised her eyes to the glass-paned roof. “This conversation is wholly absurd. I can manage on my own, without you rushing to my rescue. I have lived with scandal before, and I can do it again.”

“I think you are forgetting Amy.”

She winced then, her heart plummeting. Having her tarnish rub off on Amy was precisely what she had tried to avoid. But Amy was becoming established in society now, Diana reminded herself, so if she could distance herself from her cousin, perhaps Amy wouldn’t suffer too badly from a fresh scandal. In any event, she would not wed Thorne simply to protect herself.

Stubbornly Diana set her jaw. “Thank you for your kind offer, Lord Thorne, but I must decline. We will maintain our betrothal purely for appearance sake, but I have every intention of crying off once Amy’s future is safely settled. For now I intend to return to the ball. I had best find Amy before she hears the lurid gossip from someone else.”