Sin (28 page)

Venetia bit her lip. From his chair, Marcus turned and smiled at her. He couldn’t have heard, but her heart tumbled in her chest. “I—I am not of his world. I can’t—”

“Such things do not matter to him. He wants to follow his heart.”

It hurt Venetia to protest. “But there would be scandal, my lady—”

“Min, you must call me Min.”

“Of course, your—” Venetia broke off, shared a giggle with Min. “And I am Venetia.”

David’s face tensed, his fine dark brows drew down. He made fists and little choking sounds came out. Venetia knew to lift him to her shoulder, but the wail came out before she could. With a smile, Min took him.

Min held David to her shoulder, rubbing his back. “Scandal is not the end of the world. I have faced the threat of scandal for most of my life. And with Marcus’ help, I survived it. We can weather scandal, Venetia.”

“But the Countess would be devastated if he married me, wouldn’t she? And his mother’s opinion matters to him. What she told him when he was young, it hurt him deeply—” Venetia stopped. Should she have been so blunt?

“She told him he was like our father.” A soft, knowing smile touched Min’s mouth. “Marcus told me a great deal about you, Venetia. I think you fear you will hurt Marcus the way Rodesson hurt your mother. You aren’t like your father, Miss Hamilton, any more than Marcus is like his.”

“No, he isn’t anything like his father,” Venetia agreed.

“See? You have your father’s talent, but in matters of the heart, you are much wiser.” Min’s smile widened. “For one thing, it hasn’t taken you twenty-four years to realize how wonderful Marcus is. You understand what is truly important in life.”

Venetia didn’t know what to say, but baby David broke the quiet instead. The tiny creature gave an enormous belch and a flow of white curdy milk launched out. It splattered over the blanket Min wore on her shoulder. Instead of being horrified, Min patted him. “What a good boy!”

Marcus and Viscount Ravenwood shared a laugh. Venetia blinked back tears. Yes, she wanted Marcus to be happy. But would she be making him happy if she married him and brought scandal into his life?

Leather creaked as Marcus rose from his chair. He and the viscount strolled toward her and Min, but Min darted over to meet the men halfway.

“I wish her to hold David,” Min implored. “You talked me out of trying before, Marcus. Please…I would like this so very much.”

Venetia caught her breath. A quiver of fear leapt to her heart. And then, to her surprise, Marcus walked to her side, and she realized he wished to ask her opinion, even on such an intimate family matter.

He stood close enough for his breath to tease her ear, and her heart thudded as he confided, “Mother doesn’t even remember Min and me most times. I fear that she might panic while holding David, and hurt him. I thought I’d convinced Min not to try this, but today, she’s stubborn as ever.”

But Venetia glanced at Min and saw the raw hope there. “We could watch your mother carefully. Surely it could help her to hold him.”

The viscount joined them. Ravenwood placed his arm around his wife’s waist. Worry touched his eyes, but he nodded to Min. “I’ll stand by, in case—”

“No.” Min shook her head. “I think it must be Marcus and me.” She gave her husband a kiss on the cheek, then left him to walk to her mother’s side.

Marcus strode over as Min bent, offering David. In a soft, compelling voice, she asked her mother, “Would you like to hold him?”

Venetia saw emotion flicker in the countess’s eyes. Warmth? Understanding? A smile moved the pursed, wrinkled lips. Thin, gloved hands reached out. Min eased David into the frail arms and stayed close.

The dowager gazed down at David as though she had no idea what he was. But then she began to coo. And rock her arms. Venetia saw Marcus smile and she felt a watery burning in her eyes again. He was down on one knee, at the ready. Watching the worry in his eyes made her heart ache. He was so concerned for his baby nephew. His eyes sparkled and she guessed he was touched to his soul by his mother’s welcoming reaction.

He was a magnificent man—one capable of the deepest and strongest love. And she loved him hopelessly.

“W
hy Covent Garden?” As Marcus escorted her into the private box on the second tier, Venetia stared down upon a scene even she couldn’t have imagined.

“I promised you a night at the theatre.” Marcus gave a seductive grin. Masked by a strip of black leather, he looked sensual and dangerous. He’d worn a hooded cloak, as had she, and now that they were ensconced in the velvet and gilt box, he slid it off and tossed it aside.

“The masquerade is notoriously sinful,” he explained as he helped her take off her cloak. “Do you remember when we traveled to the orgy, and you told me about your painting? The one in which an auburn-haired woman pleasures an earl in full view of the theatre? That is a most enticing fantasy.”

A shiver of anticipation raced down to her toes, setting her quim on fire in its path. But her heart ached too. A week had passed since she had met Min, since Min had urged her to accept Marcus’ proposal.

He brushed a kiss against her neck. “I am glad you decided to come out with me tonight, Vee.” He walked around to her side and took her hand, leading her to the front of the box.

“I’m sorry to have refused you so long—I needed time to think.”

Marcus’ turquoise eyes glittered in the glow of the wall scones. “I guessed you wouldn’t be able to resist this. Here, with the drapes at the sides, we can do whatever we wish, while watching the fun below.”

Venetia rested her hands on the gleaming rail and looked down. Below, the scene was wilder than Chartrand’s orgy. Most patrons were masked. The gentlemen wore traditional evening dress but the women wore the most revealing costumes. Fanciful concoctions of feathers, silk, and wings. Many women were completely bare-breasted and dozens of men suckled wantonly at their nipples.

“It becomes more lewd later.”

More lewd? There was a couple standing, with the woman’s legs around the man’s hips and he was lifting her up and down, working faster and faster, obviously making love to her.

“It wasn’t this that tempted me to come,” she said. “I wanted to be with you again. I didn’t care where.”

“Vee—” Marcus dropped into the seat behind her, then grasped her hips and drew her down, so she was seated on his lap, facing out. Her bottom pressed around the hard ridge of his cock. She was wet, utterly aroused by the wickedness.

“Can the people below see us?”

“If they look up. But they won’t know who we are.”

Raucous laughter, ribald shouts, female squeals rose to them, and the melody of a waltz swirled up to them.

“Do you wish to live out the fantasy of my painting?” She twisted on his lap and laid her hands on his shoulders. He moved her to him, until his breath teased her lips. Venetia saw vulnerability in his eyes, in the firm set of his mouth.

“I have to talk to you about something first,” Marcus said. “Minerva told you about the past, didn’t she?”

Even as he asked Vee the question, Marcus wasn’t certain he was ready to make the confession he knew he needed to make. But he could no longer avoid speaking about it.

Vee nodded. “I don’t know why she confided in me.”

God, she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

“Min appreciates your discretion, your strong sense of honor,” he told her. “And she knows how much you mean to me.”

“She told me you convinced her that she deserved to find happiness in marriage and family,” Vee said softly. “You are such a wonderful man.”

Music and laughter swirled from below, now dim and distorted as though muffled by fog. The world around them was golden with candlelight, but their booth was intimate. A place for confessions.

“No, hell, I’m not. I only confronted my father once over what he was doing and then I succumbed to cowardice. I hit him, he whipped me, and I returned to school, cowed and beaten.”

She touched his cheek. “You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I could have stopped it.”

He met her gaze, could almost believe he saw faith in her eyes. Faith, belief in him, love.

“You have no reason to feel guilty,” she whispered, “Don’t you understand that it hurt you too?”

“There’s something else you need to know. I need to tell you.”

“You want to share your secrets with me?”

“I killed my father.” He spat it out, direct, cold, without pretty words to dilute the crime. But her warmth fought the cold that always wrapped around his heart when he remembered.

Her brows drew together. “Because of your sister?”

She wasn’t condemning him. Hell, she was trying to understand.

“Yes, for Minerva. But what provoked it was a girl’s death—Lady Susannah Lawrence.”

“Yes,” Vee nodded. “I remember.”

“I told you I confronted him, but not what happened after, when he sobered up. He was leaving—to head down to the nearest inn to get foxed again and tup the local barmaid. Something snapped in me. I chased after him, carrying the blade from my walking stick. I don’t know what I planned to do with it. I was half-drunk myself.”

“What happened?” Her voice was soft, calm. She cupped his jaw with her warm palm. A balm to his aching conscience.

“He laughed at me. Mounted his horse and moved to ride off. I grabbed the reins, startled the beast. He fell off its back, cracking his head on the ground. But I was driven by fury. I pinned him there with the blade, shouting threats at him, telling him how much I hated him. An instant later he clutched his heart with one hand, raised the other to me, and cried out in pain.”

“An attack of the heart?” Her eyes were dark and grave.

He glanced away, toward the gilded stage and the unfettered sexual play in the pit. “It didn’t kill him. But the second one in the night did.”

Anguished, he rested his head in the crook of her neck, nuzzled her warm skin. “I caused them. My mother blamed me for it.”

She drew him away to meet his eyes. Her eyes shone. Bright. Beautiful. Like a glimpse of dawn after a long storm. “No. Your father caused them. Perhaps it was his guilt. But it was not your fault. What happened to your sister, to your father, was not your fault. You only tried to make things right. Your mother was wrong—you weren’t responsible for his death. I think she has put herself in a prison of unhappiness because she couldn’t give love.” Venetia slid her arms around his neck. “I love you—not despite your pain, because of your pain. I have never met any man so deep of character, so honorable, so worthy of love.”

He touched his lips to hers—not a kiss, but a jolt of warm pleasure. “I love you, Venetia. My heart and soul belong to you. I cannot imagine living without you. I want you, now and forever.”

“Of course you know I love you, too.”

“Of course.” Marcus chuckled softly. “I am the most fortunate man alive to hear those words.” He pressed his lips to hers again.

Venetia gave herself to Marcus’ passionate kiss, but when he stopped to stare lovingly in her eyes, she gave him a saucy smile. She slid from his lap to land on the carpeted floor on her knees. Wearing a brazen smile, she undid his trousers. He watched as though transfixed, eyes bright, his breaths fast and hard.

His spicy scent enveloped her as she worked his cock free from his clothes. Far below them swirled a maelstrom of raucous laughter, ribald shouts, female squeals.

Wild excitement coursed through her and she flashed him a brazen look before opening her mouth wide, gobbling him as deep as she dared.

Earthy taste…velvety texture…his tense hands on her shoulders telling her how much he liked it. She sucked him deep, let him out, swirled her tongue, trying every maneuver she could think of. She twirled the hair on his abdomen, lightly bounced his swollen ballocks.

“God, sweeting…” Gripping her arms, he lifted her to her feet. He lifted the skirt of her gown and he dropped to his knees. Mouth wide, he took her. His hot breath flowed over her already scorching quim, his tongue licked wetly over her slick flesh. To be licked and eaten in front of the crowd…

Scandalous. Enthralling.

Venetia closed her eyes, swaying like a slender tree as he pleasured her. Suddenly she found herself lifted off her feet. Her bared bottom slid across fabric. Opening her eyes, she saw he’d placed her back on the seat. His hand was clenched around his cock—it looked huge. Thick and ready and all for her.

She parted her legs wide, hooking her thighs over the arms of the chair, wanting him.

Desire glazed his eyes at the sight of her. She caught her breath.

Braced on one arm, he lowered. His cock touched her lips, she reached down, held them open. Their moans chorused as he sank inside. He filled her so much, so tightly, so perfectly. Another waltz rushed over them as he thrust slow and deep and beautifully inside her. Pleasure flowed with each stroke, each push against her womb. All she could think of was his thrusts, the building delight, more and more—

She exploded in pleasure, pulsing deep in her quim, in her heart, in her soul. He came, too, shouting loudly. She heard the gasps from below, the sudden silence, then cheers and applause welled up. Braced on his arms over her, Marcus kissed her lips. They shared a laugh over the clapping and catcalls, then he left her.

Sated and dazed, Venetia turned slowly as Marcus went to his tailcoat.

Now she knew the answer to the question she’d posed while painting the theatre picture—what would her jaded lord do with his hands when his auburn-haired love knelt between his legs?

He would whisk her into his seat, make love to her until her heart and soul took flight, and give her earth-shattering pleasure.

Marcus took a box out from his tailcoat’s pocket. A small, velvet-covered box.

Nude, he dropped to his knee at her side, and flipped open the lid of the box. Venetia blinked. Candlelight glinted off the facets of a heart-shaped emerald. Enormous. Surrounded by winking diamonds.

“Not quite as lovely as your eyes,” he said. “I told you I can’t live without you. I can’t imagine my future without you. Not as mistress—but as lover, soulmate, and wife.”

“But—”

“Min wished us well, sweeting. She wants us both to be happy. As for your sisters—your marriage to me would bring them into society, guarantee them vast dowries, and give them the chance to find happiness and love.”

She trembled as Marcus lifted her left hand. He held the ring to the tip of her finger. “Will you marry me?”

A marriage proposal from a naked earl? She couldn’t help but giggle. The beautiful ring blurred into vivid green stars as tears of joy welled in her eyes. “Of course.”

His laugh—and the catch in his throat—rippled over her. She felt the coolness of the band slide down her skin.

Marcus kissed her fingers. “But, I understand if you don’t wish to face society right away. I thought a private ceremony at St. George’s. Then Italy.”

She held the ring before her eyes, turning it to and fro. “Italy?”

“A sun-soaked villa in the country that inspired your lovely name.”

“But we would leave our families, you mean?” She met his eyes—beautiful and exotic and rich with happiness beneath his long, thick lashes.

His fingertip traced her lower lip, sending a tingle of desire through her sated body. “Not forever. A trip to spend time alone together. For you to paint and for us to indulge our senses and enjoy every pleasure we desire.”

“I would like that,” she said.

Their lips touched for a leisurely kiss, but she broke it to murmur, “You spoke of painting? I know I can’t paint erotica. And I understand about my career—”

His lips parted in one of those wicked grins that melted her heart and set her entire body on fire. “Why can’t you paint erotica?” he asked. “Or have your career? Perhaps a collection of works by a mysterious lady?”

Shocked, she cried, “We can’t! Think of the scandal if the truth came out!”

“But we will be safe and happy in Italy.” His turquoise eyes sparkled at her. “And when we are home, the choice is yours. I support you in whatever way you wish to follow your heart. But before we leave, would you paint my nephew’s portrait first?”

“Of course,” Venetia said, around the lump in her throat.

“And then I plan to keep you busy sketching pictures of our children.”

She laughed at that. “I love you,” she whispered, unable to think of anything more poignant, important, or brilliant to say. Yet those words ignited a light in his eyes that stole her breath away. “Your eyes. I wonder if they are the same color as the Mediterranean?”

He laughed, too. “I’ve no idea, my love.”

“Well, now I have a lifetime to try to capture that color.”

Marcus’ elegant fingers cupped her chin. As his lips lowered to hers once more, he promised, “I have more sinful plans for our future.”