Succumb to Me (18 page)

“You are driving me mad,” he breathed
raggedly against her ear, pressing nibbling kisses along the hollow
as she arched her back. He thrust his hips into hers with force,
welcoming her shuddering, undisciplined reaction, recognizing her
near completion.

She clenched him, allowing him only the
smallest of movements. His strokes were short, quick and hard,
jolting her with pleasure with each rock of the carriage.

Moans tore from her throat at having him
inside her here, in public, where anyone could see them if they
peered through the sheer curtains over the windows. The carriage
rocked over the cobblestones, vibrating him inside her.

Shudders raced through her nerves,
culminating in the place of their joining, urging her closer to
ecstasy.

Winter trembled, the shock of her orgasm
breaching the edge. She wanted him, wanted him to fill her tight
passage until she could take no more. “You drive me mad,” she
whispered, shaking inside, tightening her arms on his shoulders as
he thrust forcefully inside her. Her thighs clenched around his
hips. She undulated her belly, grinding herself against his groin
until the sensation increased and she could no longer fight the
orgasm.

The feeling overtook them both, she could
feel it coming. Her body tensed, clenching against him. He drove
his hips against her, again and again. Winter threw her head back,
wrapping her arms around him for support. Wave after wave consumed
her, until her sex quivered and twitched against his manhood even
as he gained his own release.

Her breath came in great gasps. Her heart and
clit seemed to beat in time with one another, pounding and pulsing
as one, leaving debilitated muscles in the wake of pleasure.

Slowly, she felt her world return to normal,
could feel the warm wetness of both of their bodies between them.
His pants were soaked with her juices and his own.

Winter collapsed against him, snuggling
against his chest as he cradled her in his arms. She tilted her
head and placed kisses on his face, wherever she could reach,
feeling her heart swell despite her best judgment.

She knew then that she wanted a piece of him
before this was through, to keep him with her for all time ... to
bear his babe. Even if her sin should cast her from society’s
graces and straight into hell. The longing was so fierce, it near
made her heart stop beating with the wanting of it.

Had they already created life with their
carelessness?

Logan kissed her back tenderly, looking
overlong into her eyes. Winter looked away, overcome. The
disconnection she’d felt with the world was slowly melting away
under his heated pursuit. She wanted to believe he felt it too.
He’d changed her, given her back the feeling and emotion she had
lost when her father died and her world had crumbled.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and she
hurriedly arranged her hair and dress in some semblance of
respectability. “Thank you,” she whispered and left him before the
tears could come.

She didn’t know why or how it had happened,
but the attraction she’d always felt for him had deepened into
something more, as though he had forced her to recognize feelings
that had always been buried inside her. He’d touched her—as no man
ever had or ever would. Their connection could only end one
way.

And she hated him for it. For how could he
ever love her, when all he felt was hate?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Winter, darling, a package has arrived for
you,” her mother called from the door of her room.

“Thank you, Mama. I’ll be down momentarily.”
Winter looked up from the book she was reading and watched her
mother go.

She looks
tired
, Winter thought. How much of the truth did her
mother know? Or suspect? Winter hadn’t been as careful as she
should have been. No doubt, she was driving her mother into the
grave with worry. She was glad the ordeal was nearly over, but
strangely saddened too. It was best to put the episode behind her
and resign herself to living alone ... away from the machinations
of men—and temptation.

She couldn’t imagine what could have come,
but she had a sinking feeling it would be nothing good. Winter went
downstairs and retrieved the large, oblong box from the hall table.
It was heavier than she’d expected, thin as it was. There was no
sender marked, but her name was written in a bold hand that she
recognized immediately.

Returning upstairs to the privacy of her
bedroom, she locked her door and sat on the bed to open the
package, ignoring her mother’s curious stares at her furtive
actions. Eventually, she would explain everything to her. Just not
now.

There was no telling
what
surprise he’d sent her this
time, and she was taking no chances, no matter how odd it
looked.

Lifting off the top, inside she found thin
layers of paper, which she quickly tore aside to reveal a folded
gown, more exquisite than anything she’d seen in her life. The
color of eggshells, it was encrusted with swirling patterns of
jewels and beads, glittering with white and cerulean fire. A
fitting gown for an ice princess. She was holding a fortune in her
hands, and she wanted to kill him for it. She was not his mistress,
to be clothed and adorned as he saw fit. It didn’t matter that
that’s what she felt like.

Angrily, she pulled the heavy gown out. A
note fluttered to the floor as she lifted it from the box, and she
saw beneath it laid a rolled canvas. Sudden tears sprang to her
eyes, stinging and harsh until she could barely see to pick up the
note. She rubbed her eyes with her fists before reading his
letter.

My ice princess,

I regret I have had to cut short the length
of our agreement. The arrangement has progressed beyond my original
intentions, and I find myself growing into a madman with want of
you. I have no desire to turn you into a whore, and so I release
you from your obligation to me. The gown is a gift. I hope you will
wear it to tonight’s ball.

Logan

Winter ripped the parchment into tiny pieces
and scattered them among the tissue paper before balling the refuse
up. He meant to buy her off, pay for her silence and assuage his
guilt. She would not let him get away with it. She didn’t need him
to take care of her—she didn’t need him.

The realization that the ordeal was over
struck her like a blow to the stomach, but she couldn’t appreciate
it, not now, not like this. He’d ruined her in a way she’d never
thought possible, and she wanted him to suffer like she had—like
she was suffering even now. He had given no thought to her feelings
when he’d dashed off the note so impersonally. Winter’s eyes
prickled again, but she pushed the weakness back. Anger was driving
her now, and she reveled in the emotional freedom—freedom that he
had forced her to embrace.

She had not intended to go out, but this
changed everything. She decided she would be attending Mrs.
Moxley’s ball after all. Logan would see her at tonight’s ball ...
in a way he’d never seen her before.

* * * *

Mrs. Moxley’s annual winter ball was one she
normally looked forward to, as did the whole of society, but this
year was different in ways Winter would have never foreseen a few
short weeks ago. She was changed, as if her vision had suddenly
been restored, and she could see shallowness and greed all around
her, recognize prudence as a fear of emotion. Propriety was a leash
for controlling its young women. And her restraints had been
broken.

Arriving at Mrs. Moxley’s sprawling
townhouse, which encompassed nearly half a city block, Winter and
her mother were greeted with affection by their stout hostess and
rushed inside to the festivities.

Her mother had only looked at her when she’d
seen her dressed in the new gown. She’d said not a word of how
Winter how come by something so extravagant. Winter suspected her
mother knew that she’d been about something, and the fact that she
said not a word spoke volumes to her.

Winter could only be grateful to avoid
confrontation and guilt.

Fractal, rainbow-hued light reflected off
massive crystal chandeliers hanging above the pink marble dance
floor. The heat of candles and hundreds of people warmed the air
uncomfortably, but Winter didn’t notice. She cast her gaze about
the multitude of bright gowns and garish dandies. There was only
reason why she had come tonight, and she hadn’t found him yet. Too
many people crowded around her, blocking her view.

Her mother was off visiting friends just a
short distance away, and when Winter turned to go to her side, she
was intercepted by one of her former beaux, Michael Ansley. He’d
claimed undying love for her, but when their money dried up, he’d
disappeared along with the rest. She had caught his eye
unintentionally. There would be no avoiding him now.

Ansley swaggered up to her, and she wondered
why she’d ever allowed him to court her, vainglorious fool that he
was. He caught her hand and kissed it. “Miss Stevens, I hadn’t
expected to see you tonight. It is an unexpected pleasure, I do
say.”

Never see again
was what he’d meant to say. No doubt her presence dredged up
uncomfortable memories for him. Strange that he should seek her
out, but no doubt he thought she would pursue him and it was in his
best interests to strike first.

“Yes, Mr. Ansley, a pleasure always to see
you.” She forced a smile to her lips and withdrew her hand from his
pawing.

“Perhaps you would honor me with a dance?
They are about to begin.”

From the midst of the gaily colored crowd,
Logan strode forth, clothed in solid black save for his white silk
shirt and cravat. He looked like an approaching storm, radiating a
force that took her breath away, his face hard and unforgiving, as
apart from the crowd as a king from a peasant.

Winter nodded at Mr. Ansley,
distracted, all her concentration focused on Logan’s
approach.
Damn him.
She
trembled inside, her vitals gone sluggish.

Logan stopped before her and took her hand,
bowing low over it before placing a hot kiss to the lace covered
back. “Good evening, Miss Stevens.” He straightened, and added as
an afterthought, “and to you, Mr. Ansley.”

Ansley appeared insulted but said nothing to
indicate that this was the case, merely returned the greeting.
Suddenly, Michael Ansley looked on her in a whole new light, his
face determined. She couldn’t have done better if she’d planned
it.

Winter smiled inside, genuinely pleased. To
Logan, she coldly said, “Good evening, Lord Remington.”

So many words lay unspoken between
them, tension crackled, building. He wanted to say
something
to her, but propriety
wouldn’t allow it. She hoped he suffered endless remorse and guilt
for what he’d done to her. It was a mean thought that failed to
satisfy her mind-set.

The strains of the first dance started
drifting in the air, and couples began crowding onto the dance
floor.

“Would you care to dance?” Logan asked,
watching her steadily.

“I’m afraid I have already promised Mr.
Ansley the first dance.”

Ansley looked inordinately smug at Logan’s
set down. “If you will allow me.” He held up his arm and escorted
her to the floor.

It was a country dance, and during the length
of it, she smiled at every dull word he said, her gaze sneaking
repeatedly to where Logan awaited like a thunder cloud on the
sidelines, his gaze never leaving her.

When the dance ended, Ansley returned her to
her mother, passing Logan by with a smug smile pasted on his face.
Logan did nothing but glare at them and remained silent. Perhaps he
feared her ridicule, another public set down, though she didn’t
think he was a man to worry over such matters any more. He seemed
to know he could command her obedience with a single touch. She
only wondered what he was about.

Ansley departed, chest puffed and swaggering
to woo other ladies in attendance. As he left, Logan approached,
but before he could reach her, Winter escaped with another dance
partner. She had no wish to be alone with him. She wasn’t sure she
could control herself—and that was as alien to her as the chaos of
feeling he aroused. Whatever he wanted to say would need to wait
until she was ready for him. She would not be a loser in this—she
would never be able to hold her head up around him again if that
happened.

In the motions of the dance, she saw Logan
had joined with his own partner. They continued on that way through
several dances, each taunting the other.

She’d thought to make him jealous, but the
sight of him holding another woman in his arms destroyed all
thought of revenge. She’d been bitten by the green eyed devil, and
he was deliberately provoking her. Winter tried not to think about
the fact that she’d begun this pettiness with her own actions. She
was no longer a child to follow her every whim—she should have
known better than to tangle with an obvious master in the game of
love.