Reckless Viscount (24 page)

“My father.” The answer was bitten out between tightly clenched teeth. “Though I was very young, I recall the torment he inflicted upon my mother. She chose to flee rather than endure more of his ugly treatment.”

“She left you?” Abbigael was incredulous that a mother would abandon her child.

“She had no choice. Father wouldn’t have allowed her to get far with his only heir.”

Bitterness and pain weighed down his voice. Abbigael was certain he would have preferred to go with her.

“Where is she now?”

“Dead.”

Her heart ached for him. “I am sorry.”

He shrugged off her sympathy and threw her a half smile.

“Don’t be, Irish, there is no point in grieving something long past. And as for Atwood, I don’t want you to worry about him anymore. He has no more power over the direction of your life.”

He was right. Lord Atwood’s influence was a thing of the past. Leif’s, however, had just begun.

“And you are not concerned at all about the nature of the things that have been said about me?” She had to ask. “Are you not curious about how much may not be exaggeration at all, but actual truths?”

“No, I’m not.”

His tone was so full of calm conviction that Abbigael could do nothing but believe him. Rather than assuring her, his lack of concern bothered her.

“Do you not wish for me to explain the events of the past that gave rise to the speculation regarding my sanity?”

“It is not necessary,” Leif replied lightly.

How very accommodating.

Abbigael gazed straight ahead, feeling the tension building along her spine. There was something about his attitude toward the whole thing that annoyed her. Didn’t he understand the importance of the issue? Did nothing matter to him as long as he got his fortune?

After a couple moments of silence, as their steps shuffling gently along the gravel path, Leif stopped and turned her to face him. He lifted his hands to her shoulders, gently keeping her weighted in place.

“You are irritated with me,” he smiled. “What can I do to convince you there is no reason to be?”

Deciding to be fully honest, Abbigael replied, “It just seems to me that a reasonable man would want some assurance regarding his wife’s mental stability.”

Leif chuckled and ran his hands up and down the length of her arms, creating a fine layer of awareness on the surface of her skin. His expression softened as he dipped his head closer to hers.

“Sweetheart, I know all I need to know when I look into those crystal-clear eyes of yours. You are not insane, nor have you ever been. You have passions that run very deep behind this proper little façade you present to the world. If those passions sometimes get away from you, I only hope to be there to reap the benefits.”

It took a moment for Abbigael to realize what he referenced. As understanding dawned, heat and anticipation followed quickly upon its heels.

Taking her face in his hands, he tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “I want you to promise me something.”

There was something in the way he looked at her when his teasing manner fled and he became as earnest as anyone she had ever known. It was as if he were reaching past the surface of their interaction to communicate with a deeper part of her. And she responded naturally, feeling a reaction like a windstorm in the center of her being.

“I want you to promise to leave those old worries where they belong. It is you and me now. I do not judge you for your past and I will defend against any who do. I do not want you to hold back any part of your nature for fear of censure. As my wife, you are free to think and feel and behave in any way you wish. Do you promise?”

Abbigael nodded, slightly stunned by his declaration.

He smiled then and drew her toward him.

Abbigael’s knees wobbled as she stumbled forward, but he held her steady until he had her pressed against him from chest to knee and clasped his hands together at the small of her back. Even in the darkening atmosphere, she could see the glint of desire in his gaze. Her stomach performed a delicate flip. She could so easily drown in the wanting of this man. She knew it, and though the strength of her need for him scared her just a bit, in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“A promise such as this deserves to be sealed with a kiss, don’t you think?”

The anticipation of feeling his lips on hers again turned her limbs to molten honey and sent her nerves into a sensitive frenzy.

“Yes, please.”

She hadn’t meant to utter such a breathless plea, it slipped completely unbidden from her softened mind, but it seemed to please him as he muttered something low under his breath and bent to take her lips.

Chapter Twenty-One

Every time his lips met hers Abbigael felt an overwhelming sense of perfection that, for a moment, encompassed her entire world in warmth and light. And then, every reaching sense would spiral inward until nothing else existed and all she knew were the delicate details of how the firm surface of his lips caressed hers just so, how his heart beat steady and strong against her chest, how she felt safe and secure in the circle of his arms, how her fingers tingled with the desire to touch his warm skin.

She had never felt more herself as she did in these moments. Perhaps that was why her inhibitions slid away so easily, so quickly, as if they had never been. It made sense that she should feel this way, that she should want more. It was good—more than good—that she should desire her husband and revel in the way he made her feel.

She rose up on her tiptoes and lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck.

He flicked his tongue against her lips and she parted them readily, anticipating his sweeping possession. He didn’t disappoint as he claimed the inner warmth of her mouth and urged her to join in the play of his tongue. The masculine taste of him, the sensual slide, the heated breath, clouded her mind with longing. An ache began low in her body and expanded with every dart of his tongue and tempting bite of his teeth.

He splayed his hands against her lower back then slid them outward to grasp her hips. His fingers flexed and released over the curve of her buttocks. As if he were debating how far to go.

Afraid he would stop, Abbigael shifted her arms and slid her fingers into the cool silken hair at the nape of his neck. She allowed herself to be carried by the swift flow of her desire as she kissed him back. Tasting him. Breathing deeply of his scent, male strength and need.

Her body tingled with a strange and wicked power as she felt him stiffen in reaction to her kiss.

He cupped her buttocks and hauled her against his erection with a distinct lack of delicacy. He moved her back and forth against him. A deep groan of pleasure rumbled through his chest and urged her further, deepening the ache in her sex to an insistent throb.

Catching her mouth, he drew her into another plunging kiss that made her head spin in a thousand directions. Her body stretched and yearned to meld with his.

Then he pulled away. “Come,” he gasped. “We cannot stay here.”

Abbigael tugged on the hair at his nape, trying to urge his mouth back to hers. “Why?”

“Look around, sweetheart,” he replied with a light smile in his voice, his whispered words uttered against the sensitive curve of her ear. “They are turning the lights on. In a moment, the lane will be fully illuminated.”

Abbigael forced her heavy eyes open. The haze of passion still clouded her senses, but she could see golden flames of light flaring to life in the gardens surrounding them. And the lights grew nearer to their location.

“This way.” Leif curled his arm around her waist and led her off the gravel path into the darkened trees that ran alongside the lane. He urged her on until the density of the forest blocked most of the light from the newly lit portions of the garden. The music from the concert did not penetrate as well into the thick quiet they had entered. The voices of night birds still sang from the trees and Abbigael thought she heard the faint sound of lovers’ whispers filtering out from the foliage as they passed.

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me. I will not get us lost.”

“You have explored these woods before?”

A note of pique entered her voice. She hadn’t intended to sound so petulant. Moments ago, sensual craving had infused her with vitality and exhilaration. But the way her passions were so abruptly halted now made her skin feel too tight and her breath too shallow. It felt as if a terrible monster were crouching in her belly, desperate to find release.

“That is a question I feel safer not answering.”

“A wise choice.”

Leif chuckled, making Abbigael wish for a just a split second that she could give him a swift kick in the knee.

How insanely irrational.

Her thoughts and emotions were dreadfully mixed up and she placed the blame solely with him. If he hadn’t kissed her, she wouldn’t be in such a brainless muddle. If he hadn’t taken her down the notorious Lover’s Lane, she wouldn’t be wishing they were someplace much more private. If he hadn’t abducted her, she wouldn’t know of the soul-deep pleasure to be found when she surrendered to the lust he roused.

“Ah,” he breathed, “I knew it was tucked back here somewhere.”

Abbigael caught the barest glance of a short stone bench with a low curving back before his arm tightened around her waist and he drew her deftly into the curve of his body. He swept his other arm behind her knees as he lifted her off the ground. Her gasp of surprise was muffled by his mouth and the kiss immediately recalled all of the hunger boiling just beneath the surface of her composure.

A small moan of relief escaped from the hollow of her throat.

He lowered them both to the bench, keeping her within the circle of his arms until she was settled in his lap.

And he kissed her. With his arms wrapped around her. Until she was mindless once again and heedful only of the pleasure she feared might somehow escape her reach before she could fully grasp hold of it. That nonsensical fear made her cling to him all the more as she returned his kisses with equal fervor, shifting in his lap.

She could feel the evidence of his arousal against her hip, and though it pleased her to know she was not alone in her desire, that knowledge was not enough. Her hands roamed across the surface of his chest, craving the feel of bare skin. She grew restless and tugged at his collar. Her tongue met his and when she felt him sliding her skirts up along the outside of her thigh, she breathed a sigh of relief mixed with heart-stopping anticipation. Cool air bathed her stockinged calves, sending a chill of sensitivity cascading through her limbs. When the hem of her skirts fluttered against her upper thighs, he curled his hand around her silk-clad leg just above her knee. His fingertips tickled the skin hidden in the hollow behind her knee as he lifted her leg to place her foot up on the bench. The new position parted her legs, all but exposing her if not for the concealing drape of her skirts.

Rather than feeling vulnerable, Abbigael was deeply stimulated by the sense of being bared and opened to his touch. The muscles of her lower back tensed and her body arched in his arms. Her hip pressed urgently against his erection and she brought her lips to this throat. The salty taste of his skin and the beat of his rapid pulse beneath thrilled her, and she opened her mouth to draw his flesh against her teeth.

She heard his sharply indrawn breath and sensed that rather than hurting him, her action brought him pleasure. She pulled on his flesh again, this time soothing the spot with her tongue after nipping daringly with her teeth.

He groaned then, dug his fingers painfully into her thigh and dipped his head until his lips came near to her ear.

“You threaten my control, sweetheart.” His hot velvet tongue darted out to tease the sensitive spot below her ear.

Her breath caught and the muscles of her legs clenched. Chills coursed through her as he smoothed his hand up her thigh and the warmth of his palm reached the bare flesh above her stocking. But he didn’t stop there, and in the next shattering moment, he slid his deft fingertips along the slick folds of her sex and her entire body jolted in response.

She couldn’t let him do this. Not here.

Rational thought attempted to intrude, but Abbigael shoved it aside.

His touch was magic and her need was too great.

She braced her foot against the bench and tried to push herself into his hand. She arched in his lap, rolling her hips.

“Ah,” he breathed with raw pleasure, “you want this, don’t you?”

She couldn’t answer. She wrapped her hand around his forearm as he reached between her legs and she rolled her hips again. She felt a hollow ache deep inside and knew only he could fill it.

“God, you feel like molten honey,” he murmured as his fingers tested the entrance to her body. The pad of his thumb circled the swollen bud of her clitoris. Once. Twice. And when his thumb circled a third time, he slid two fingers gently inside her.

Abbigael moaned as her inner muscles clenched around his invasion. Her flesh pulsed against his fingers in a deeply delicious way and she felt a slight easing of the ache that claimed her, but it wasn’t enough. Her legs began to tremble.