Rogues Gallery (60 page)

But first, some temptation was in order.

With her free hand, she swept her hair away from her neck. "Here?"

He groaned in response.

"Or did you mean here?" she asked, circling her nipple and then plucking at the tip.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Just until her hand stopped.

She recommenced the stroking, feeling triumphant as he grew harder in her hand.

"Felicia, please."

She slid her hand between her legs, gasping at the wetness there. She had only time for a few strokes before Hugh grasped her by the arms and pulled her forward, sitting her directly atop him.

Unlike the first time, he entered her easily, with no barrier or hesitation. He held her waist in his hands, rocking her until she discovered the rhythm. She had no words to describe the heat shooting through her entire being, but Hugh could see what was happening. He increased the intensity of his thrusts, and she returned them, each and every one. She could feel it building to a crescendo, nearly frightening her with its intensity.

Hugh gripped her a little tighter, whispering something soothing, yet erotic. Her heart pounded in her ears, so she had no idea what he murmured. She kept her eyes locked with his, feeding off his passion and returning it with hers. Her skin seemed to be shrinking and she wanted to escape it. She had the fiercest desire to draw Hugh deeper into her while pounding against his body, seeking a release from all of the fire blazing through her.

"Hugh," she said, her voice wavering. "Hugh—"

"I know," he answered, pulling her down hard against him. She gripped him reflexively, making him suck in his breath. In the next instant she felt herself suspended in the midst of the rhythm and then she could not halt the tidal wave of sensation pouring through her, sweeping Hugh along with her.

Hugh tucked Felicia's hair behind her ear, watching as she slept. He adored his wife's ferocity, her spirit, her passion, especially during their lovemaking. But a tender part of him reveled in this very private moment, where she entrusted herself to him in such a vulnerable fashion.

He could feel his heart swelling with an emotion he refused to name. It was one that had caused him such heartache in the past, yet he found himself unable to resist it, or his wife. Perhaps he would be racing headlong into disaster, but at that moment he did not care.

He placed his lips against hers, kissing her softly several times. To his surprise, she did not awaken easily. He pulled her closer against his body and then nibbled at her ear, until he felt her slowly stirring, wrapping her arms around him. He treasured the contented sigh that finally escaped her mouth.

"It appears you enjoyed your wicked night with Lord Wastrel," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

"I did indeed," she answered cheerfully. "If only I could add this chapter to his memoirs—"

He nipped at her jaw. "Minx. Why are you so intent on regaling the world with my misadventures?"

"Because they are so much more interesting than mine!"

He tilted his head back. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, and unabashed happiness. It gratified him that he had been the one to cause her such joy. The bedcovers concealed too much of what caused
him
joy, however, so he began to tug at them. In the next moment she pulled them completely away.

His breath caught at all of her lush beauty on display, just for him.

"You have become so wanton. Which I heartily admire," he added with a quick grin.

"I would like to blame Lord Wastrel," she said, "but I cannot. I merely needed his expertise to guide me to the path I have been seeking all this time."

He laughed outright. "So I am merely an accessory? You have a mercenary heart, Flighty Felicia. I never suspected it of you."

She tightened her arms around him and pulled his head to hers for a deep kiss. It wasn't long before conversation was not needed. His hands roamed her body, his mouth devoured hers, and his heart gave itself over without the slightest bit of resistance.

***

F
elicia stretched and then sighed in utter contentment. She had thought the stirrings were delicious, but everything that occurred afterwards. . .

She turned until she was facing Hugh, her face nestling against the pillow. How she loved this man. It was much more than the instantaneous emotion she had encountered at the beginning. It had already deepened, just from experiencing the daily moments of being a wife and part of a family. She could barely contain her elation at what the future held, for all of them.

Hugh kissed the tip of her nose. "What wild thoughts are consuming you just now?"

"How suspicious you sound. Do you fear I am plotting something?"

"You should have no need to plot anything. Not even my memoirs," he added in an ominous tone of voice, but all it did was make her laugh.

"I may write my own now."

It was his turn to laugh. "I shall buy every copy then, so no one but me can read them."

Her lips turned down into a mock pout.

"Tell me some of the tales you would write. Though you have no need to recount the events of the past day and night," he added, his eyes twinkling, "since I am intimately acquainted with those."

Felicia gave his ear a playful tweak. "So you wish to hear of my elopements? I can highlight a few memorable ones." She thought for a moment. "There was the gentleman I thought I fancied when really it was his stylish way of tying a cravat that caught my notice. Once I learned he cared nothing for sartorial matters, I insisted he turn the carriage around and set me back on my doorstep."

"Indeed." The corners of Hugh's eyes crinkled, as if he knew she was glossing over the details but he was not about to stop her. "And the next vic—I mean, the next lucky fellow?"

"The next was quite horse mad, and I thought that was a most admirable quality. But then it turned out that he was just mad, completely and utterly mad, so I slipped away while he was bargaining for a new set of prime goers."

"At least he helped you pick up some of the racing cant," Hugh said with a chuckle. "You can educate Lucinda one day with the valuable knowledge you've acquired."

"I also have a wealth of knowledge about—"

"No." He placed a finger against her lips. She nibbled on it until he gave her a mock warning look that made her shiver. "I am astounded that Great-Aunt Aurore encouraged you in these elopements."

"Hugh, she is the very reason for them. She has entertained me with this tale for years, telling me how our family was cursed to fall instantly in love, or meet with dire results if we did not. I only eloped because I was trying to find my one true love."

"Did you ever doubt the curse?"

She shook her head. "Never. Though I did lose faith recently. I accused Great-Aunt of making it all up merely to keep me quiet as a child."

Hugh's lips twitched. "You were never quiet as a child."

"I was whenever she told me this story!"

"What restored your faith in it?"

She had expected mockery, or even disbelief, but instead Hugh's voice seemed almost tender, his interest decidedly genuine. It took her breath away momentarily. She was relating her adventures about finding her one true love to the very man who was her one true love—whether or not he believed the legend.

"When I informed Great-Aunt Aurore at your—well, one evening I told her I was relinquishing this quest, because it was obviously hopeless, despite my devoted efforts. She was forced to reveal how she had been cursed too."

"She seems perfectly happy, even if she never wed."

"Oh, she is happy, but cursed all the same. I thought I could persuade Frederick to marry Great-Aunt, to finally put an end to the curse for both of them. But he is unyielding, despite the fact they have loved each other for decades."

"Frederick. Frederick. I cannot seem to place—" Hugh's eyes widened. "You cannot mean—"

"The very one! If I had known of my aunt's plight beforehand, I might have never eloped in the first instance."

He eyed her intently for several moments, and it took a great deal of self control to keep from squirming. It was all well and good to chatter about the family curse in the abstract, but after her revelations about Great-Aunt Uproar and Frederick. . . perhaps Hugh was wondering how quickly he could get their marriage dissolved.

Before he could respond, she hastened to add, "No matter what might have occurred previously, you can be assured I am quite the sedate married woman now—"

His lips lifted in a slow smile. "There is nothing sedate about you, and never will be." He leaned forward and gave her exposed nipple a kiss. "It's what I treasure about you."

She could not halt the shivers he elicited, but somehow she managed to say rather calmly, "I meant I am intent on putting my flighty past behind me. I
have
put it behind me."

He dotted kisses along her shoulder, and down her arm, and she hoped his goal was another area begging shamelessly for his attention. She was so consumed by the sensations he was causing, she nearly missed his question.

"You have found your one true love then?"

"Yes, I have," she managed, though her breath was ragged from the effects of his endless kisses and caresses. She was ready to call a halt to the conversation, at least until much later, once they had communicated in a more passionate fashion.

But then Hugh brushed her hair away from her face, gazing at her with an unreadable expression. "How are you so certain?"

His question puzzled her. How could he not know her feelings? She had pursued him, relentlessly so, even when he was betrothed to another. She would do so again if faced with the same situation.

"I am certain, because now whenever I think of a carriage, I want to be there with you, and no one else."

His laugh was low and sexy. "You always surprise me."

"I plan to do so for a long time," she said. "You may even come to like them one day."

"I can think of nothing better." He paused, his expression becoming more serious. "Though perhaps I should explain my lack of enthusiasm about surprises. A family curse of my own."

"What do you mean?"

"You were probably too young to hear the tales about my parents. Or maybe you encountered some of the whispers about them over the years." Hugh lifted her hand and punctuated his words with kisses on her fingertips. "But they were the epitome of wickedness."

"More wicked than you?" She delivered her best theatrical gasp, complete with a hand to the back of her forehead. "I cannot imagine such a thing."

He bit the tip of her finger playfully. "A great deal more wicked than me. They had raucous parties every night, with half-naked people chasing each other through the hallways—it was many years before I realized other houses were not like mine."

"Yes, well, that is quite wicked, since they had a child with which to be concerned."

"I can assure you I was the very least of their concerns. Most times I suspect they forgot they even had a child."

"No! I cannot bear to believe that."

"It is quite true." He laced his fingers with hers, and continued in a light tone, but she saw a hint of tightness in his jaw. "Once, after a spate of wild activity, my parents must have decided to heed my poor grandmother's warnings. They remained at home, doting on me for days." He smiled briefly at the memory, clearly one that he cherished. "But some new scandal finally caught their fancy, and I was left in the care of nannies and tutors once more, waiting impatiently for them to come home."

"They had to have been completely heartless. I am glad I never knew them."

He shrugged, as if it did not matter very much. "One day, while I pestered my grandmother endlessly about when my parents were coming home, she sat me down. Or she tried to."

Felicia hid a smile, not wanting to interrupt Hugh, but she wondered if he saw any of his childhood traits in Lucinda's personality. They were more alike than he probably wanted to acknowledge.

"I was impatient to hear about their return, and did not notice the strain in Grandmother's voice. She finally managed to tell me they would not be returning, ever again. I was certain she was mistaken. I sat by the window, and continued to wait—"

"Oh, Hugh."

Felicia squeezed him tightly, trying to give solace and comfort to the young boy he'd been, as well as to the man he'd become.

"Such a fierce embrace," Hugh teased, but he smiled when she finally released him.

"It distresses me so, thinking of what you endured."

"I am not the only child to have lost his parents in a carriage accident. I have quite overcome it," he assured her. "A long time ago."

She was not entirely convinced of that, but she did not press the point. Instead, she gave him another heartfelt kiss. "It also distresses me how I have contributed to your worries with my endless stream of surprises."

"Thankfully the majority of yours are delightful. Eventually." He grinned before giving her additional kisses in return. "And perhaps it will set your mind at ease to know that you have yet to surpass the greatest surprise of my life: when Lucinda landed on my doorstep."

Felicia tilted her head, waiting for him to continue.

"It was a shock to learn I was a father, of course. But I was aghast to discover I'd been just as careless as my own parents. I had a child I'd abandoned while I continued to pursue my hedonistic life as Lord Wastrel."

"It is not at all the same, Hugh. Your parents were well aware they had a child, but they chose to ignore their parental responsibilities. You had no notion of Lucinda's existence. How could you have?"

"I couldn't, I suppose. Marguerite had never given me any reason to believe otherwise. But until that day it had never occurred to me I was following the same path as my parents. I reformed myself that very moment, to ensure Lucinda had the parent she needed, rather than the dreadful one I was when she arrived." He frowned. "And now I pray my misspent youth does not compel Lucinda to embark on a scandalous life of her own one day. That would indeed be a family curse."