Simply Sinful (23 page)

A flurry of emotions crowded Valentin’s face. “Hell, Peter, I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t be, Val.”

Valentin reached out and grabbed Peter’s forearm. Abby tensed as Peter shrugged out of his grasp. People were starting to notice them. Where was James when she needed him? She loudly cleared her throat.

“Mr. Howard, this is not a good place for such a private conversation. Why don’t we all move toward the far window?”

She herded them toward a more secluded corner of the ballroom and then out into a narrow landing that connected the back stairs and the kitchen.

“This conversation is finished anyway,” Peter said, his gaze locked with Valentin’s. “Lord Sokorvsky has found out what he wanted to know and is now happy to leave.”

“No, I’m not.”

“What’s going on?”

Peter grimaced as he registered James at Abigail’s side, his expression grim, his intent to interfere obvious. He came to stand beside Peter.

“Sokorvsky, I’m Beecham.”

Valentin’s gaze turned impatiently away from Peter’s. “I know who you are.”

“Good, then perhaps you might also know that I’m considered very loyal to my friends.”

“So?” Valentin’s increasing hauteur and aggression was so reminiscent of a fighting cock that Peter fought an insane desire to laugh.

“Mr. Howard is my friend and I believe I heard him ask you to leave.”

Valentin took a step forward until his face was but an inch from James’s.

“This has nothing to do with you, sir. My friendship with Mr. Howard goes far deeper than yours ever will.”

Abigail clutched at Peter’s arm as the two men closed in on each other.

“Peter, make them stop!”

Peter patted her shoulder and shoved himself bodily between the two men. He placed a hand on each of their chests.

“James, I appreciate your help; Valentin, I will talk to you later.”

Both men stared at him. James was the first to respond. He bowed. “I’ll take Abby to the refreshment room. We’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you, James.”

After the Beechams left, Peter turned back to Val, who lounged against the wall.

“You need to go now.”

Valentin straightened. “What is he to you?”

“Lord Beecham? What do you think?”

“I think he is a fool. I saw you dancing with her. Does he know you’re fucking him
and
his wife?”

“Jealous, Val?”

Peter found himself slammed up against the wall, Valentin’s hand at his throat. Anger coursed through him as he stared at his oldest friend, his lover, his nemesis, his savior, his tormentor…all those things applied and none of them, none of them, mattered. Despite the press of Val’s body against his, he fought to breathe normally.

“Who or what I fuck is up to me,” Peter said. “It has nothing to do with you anymore, remember?”

Val laughed. “This is all an attempt to get back at me, isn’t it? Does it make you happy that I reacted so strongly? Is that what you intended?”

“Your arrogance amazes me. I don’t want you back. I want what I have now.”

“And what is that? Another married couple to cling to?”

Abruptly Peter pushed at Val’s chest and sent him staggering backward. He refused to cheapen the relationship he had with the Beechams by dragging it down to Val’s level.

He refused.

“Good night, Lord Sokorvsky.”

Peter walked back into the noise and light of the ballroom. The scent of hot wax and hundreds of warm scented bodies, a familiar perfume of arousal in all its forms. He took a deep breath, aware that his hands were shaking and that he was almost at the end of his already-depleted emotional resources.

Perhaps it was time to leave the mess of Valentin and his grandfather behind for a few hours and simply enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. He smiled savagely to himself. Who would’ve thought that his ability to pretend the horrors of his life didn’t exist, abilities that had gotten him through years in a brothel, would still apply in the heart of the
ton
?

“Peter?”

Oh God, no, not now.

Peter stood still as Sara Sokorvsky stopped in front of him. She wore a gown of deep rose pink, which enhanced her beautiful complexion and complimented her thick dark hair. Diamonds and rubies glittered at her throat and wrists. She held out her hands, her expression radiant.

“Oh my goodness, it is so wonderful to see you!”

“It’s only been about four weeks, Sara, hardly a lifetime.”

He automatically took her hands and squeezed them hard before abruptly letting go. She frowned at him.

“Are you and Val still fighting?” Her expression sharpened. “Have you seen him this evening?”

“I have had that pleasure, yes.”

She held his gaze, her blue eyes steady on his. “And you are still angry with him.”

He drew her arm through his and led her away from the dance floor. “It’s complicated, Sara. You know everything Val and I do is like that.”

She glanced at him and then away. “I was beginning to wonder if your disagreement had something to do with me.”

He forced a smile. “Why would you think that? You know how much I care about you.”

She bit her lip. “Is it because I’m pregnant?”

Peter briefly closed his eyes. “Sara, I’m delighted that you and Val are expecting a child.”

“But you don’t want to be anywhere near me while I’m carrying it.” Her voice trembled. “I understand some men find a woman repugnant at this time—in their bed, I mean.”

Peter stopped walking. “Is that what Val told you?”

She raised her chin. “I’m not stupid, Peter. The only thing different is that I’m pregnant. That’s why everything else has changed. That’s why you and Val are fighting.”

“That’s not true.”

Tears glinted in her eyes. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her, rock her until she started smiling again. She was usually so strong, he hadn’t expected such an emotional reaction to his absence.

“Sara…”

He gazed at her, but what could he say? If he insisted that he wasn’t repulsed by her and would be quite happy to see her naked, he would be betraying not only Val but the Beechams.

“Sara, I will always care for you.”

“But not while I’m pregnant.” She gave him a stiff, regal curtsey. “Thank you for being honest at least. I’ll tell Val he can stop sheltering me from the truth and perhaps we can all be friends again?”

“I’ll always be your friend.”

She nodded, her gaze fixed on his shoulder, her lips pressed tightly together. He knew he was handling her badly, but he didn’t have the emotional resources left to correct her assumptions. Perhaps it was better this way. Good old Peter, taking the blame for Val yet again. Hadn’t he always done that in the brothel? Had Val ever even realized?

“I see Valentin over there by the window.”

Peter nodded. “Shall I take you to him?”

Sara stepped away from him. “No, thank you, I think I can find him myself.”

“Of course you can.”

“Good night, Peter.”

He bowed deeply. “Good night, Sara. Take care of yourself.” He hesitated, touched her hand as she passed him. “I really am delighted about the baby.”

Her expression softened. “Thank you for that.”

“You are more than welcome. I’d tell you to give my love to Val, but we both know he has no need of it.”

She considered him calmly, head on one side. “I begin to think there is more to this quarrel than you are letting on.”

“No, there isn’t. You are right to doubt me. Now go and find Val; you know how difficult he is if he can’t be with you.”

He smiled into her eyes and started to walk away from her, convinced he could feel Val’s stare boring into the back of his neck. He fixed his attention on the refreshment room. Would the Beechams still be there and, more important, had they seen his encounter with Sara? He devoutly hoped not.

17

A
bby turned quickly away as Peter concluded his conversation with the beautiful woman in pink and headed for the refreshment room. Her instincts told her that the interaction had been far from casual; their intimacy and closeness with each other had been obvious. Well, obvious to any one who might have cause to be jealous.

And she was jealous.

She nudged James in the ribs. “Who is that woman?”

“Which one?”

“The one Peter was just talking to.”
The one who touched him with a familiarity that makes my hackles rise
.

James craned his neck to see around her. “Oh, that’s Lady Sara Sokorvsky.”

“Of course it is.”

James looked down at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was just surprised at how well she seemed to know Peter.”

James finished his glass of wine and avoided her gaze. “She is the wife of his best friend.”

Abby chewed on her lip. “I suppose she is.” She fixed a bright smile on her face as Peter reached them.

“No pistols at dawn, then?” James inquired.

Peter’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Not quite, thank God, although it came close.” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to go to the office tomorrow morning and talk to Val again. I owe him that.”

James pulled a face at Abby. It was obvious that he didn’t like the idea of Peter going near Valentin any more than Abby enjoyed the thought of Peter meeting Sara. What a pair they were.

Abby waited to see if Peter would mention his encounter with Sara Sokorvsky, but he didn’t. He merely spoke to James about a racehorse he had placed a bet on until Abby fought a yawn. Both men looked down at her.

She deliberately licked her lips. “Aren’t either of you ready for bed?”

Peter shared a long look with James, who nodded abruptly.

“I’ll go and call for the carriage.”

“I’ll find our hats and Abigail’s cloak.”

James disappeared into the crowded ballroom while Abby and Peter slowly made their way back to the front of the house. The hall was a crush of people again, some leaving, others still arriving. Peter drew Abby close against his side as he struggled down the wide stairway. At the bottom, Abby almost tripped over a long satin train and fell against Peter. He caught her against him in the shadows of the massive stairwell; his body touched her from knee to shoulder. Ignoring the shouting melee she drew his head down, kissed him hard on the lips.

His response was to kiss her back with an intensity and passion that made her lean into him and wrap her hand around his neck to keep him close. He groaned into her mouth, shoved his thigh between her legs and rocked into her. She forgot where they were as heat seared through her, making her body pulse and open for him.

His hand crept up the inside of her skirt, stroked her bottom, delved between her buttocks and fingered the tight rosebud of her anus. She squirmed against him, rubbed her fingers deliberately against the swell of his shaft until he moved with her, shoving himself into the palm of her hand.

The series of shocks he had suffered that day had obviously shattered his impressive self-discipline. She had never known him so unguarded, so ready to allow her to take liberties with him. She gloried in his lack of control, turned it to her own selfish benefit.

He was first to tear his mouth away. She stared into his lust-filled eyes, determined he’d only see and think of her and forget all about the beautiful Sara Sokorvsky.

“Abigail, you must let go, or I’ll be tempted to pull up your skirts and be damned who sees us.”

She nodded and reluctantly released him. He disappeared into the throng and returned shortly with her cloak, his hat and gloves. He draped the cloak around her shoulders, his touch gentle and impersonal, as if he understood how close she was to dragging him back into the shadows of the stairwell and encouraging him to fulfill his threat to take her in front of the
ton
.

“James will be waiting.”

She allowed him to help her into the carriage, saw James already seated on the forward facing seat, legs spread wide, brown eyes gleaming with anticipation. He sat up and stared at them both, expectation rising on his face. Peter pulled her onto his lap.

“Abigail is trying to start without us, James, and we can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t.” James grinned, his gaze fixed on Peter’s hands, which cupped her breasts. “What shall we do with her?”

Peter pulled off his gloves and hiked up her skirts. “Drive her wild. Make her beg for us.”

He covered her mound with his hand, thumbed her clit, his fingers swirling into the thick wetness her body had already started to produce. She moaned when he spread her legs wide and beckoned to James.

“Come here, kneel up between her thighs, kiss her.”

James obliged, his large muscular body pressed against her, the slick fabric of his pantaloons soft against the inside of her thighs. His cock was on level with the seat and available to Peter’s waiting hand and her wet sex.

He kissed her hard, his mouth demanding. But she was no longer afraid of his roughness; instead she welcomed it, longed for it, invited his response with a female aggression all her own.

“Kiss me too, James.”

Abby watched the two men kiss, admired the strength of their coming together, the fierceness of two males sharing a moment of pure, rugged passion. She struggled to turn her body and kiss them both too. James laughed and nipped at her lower lip.

“Always so bossy, Abby cat. Always wanting to be involved.”

She ignored him, concentrating on the sensation of Peter’s hand between her legs. James kissed his way down her throat and licked the swell of her breasts.

“Loosen her gown, Peter. I want to suck her.”

Peter obliged and Abby shuddered as James drew her breast into his mouth and suckled hard on her. Her nipple tightened as he pressed it to the roof of his mouth. She writhed against him, clutched his thick dark hair in her fist as a climax threatened to overcome her.

As if he sensed her need, Peter’s hand flexed against her mound and he drove several fingers deep inside her.

“James, sit back.”

James reared back and barely managed to avoid falling as the carriage rounded a corner. He braced himself using the carriage walls. His attention remained fixed on Peter’s fingers embedded inside Abby. She was beyond modesty when Peter used his other hand to display her swollen bud to her husband.