The Madness Of Lord Ian Mackenzie (17 page)

He’d been ready for weeks. He slid his knee between hers and let his tip part her opening. Beth moaned deep in her throat. “Please, Ian.”

“Please stop?” he murmured, excitement gripping him.

“No.”

He smiled into her lips. “Please what, Beth? What do you want me to do?”

“You know.”

“I am not good at hints. You have to tell me straight out.”

“You’re teasing me now.”

Ian licked her mouth. “You like being teased. You like ducking into private rooms with me and pulling up your skirts when I tell you.”

“Is that what you call teasing?”

“You like fellatio and cunnilingus.”

“I do, truth be told. I’d never done either before.”

“No?” he murmured. “I thought you a woman of the world.”

“I thought I was rather clumsy at it.”

“You were beautiful. You are beautiful now.” She bit her lip, making it red and enticing. Shy Beth, blushing while he lay naked on top of her. She always filled him with laughter.

“Please, Ian,” she whispered. “I want you inside me.”

His entire body tightened. “Yes.”

He was too big. It had been nine years since a man had entered her, and she was too tight. She couldn’t take it.

Ian groaned softly as he pushed all the way in. He took a long breath, his chest pressing hers. He wouldn’t look at her, turning his head so Beth stared directly at his cheekbone and rain-wet hair slicked to his skull.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Good.” He thrust once. “Good.”

Beth squeezed her eyes shut as he thrust again. The thickness of him pushed so deep inside her she thought it would tear her apart.

And it felt
good.

“Ian,” she groaned. “I am wicked. I’m a wicked, sinful woman, and I don’t want you to ever stop.”

Ian didn’t answer. He moved slowly inside her, thick and
hard. Deeper, faster. Please.
She rocked her hips up as he came down. He held himself up on one hand while he fisted her hair in his other. He tickled the ends of her hair along her breasts, and her overly sensitive nipples rose and tightened.

He leaned down and licked one areola, teasing the point into his mouth. She watched his teeth play, his tongue swirl over the nipple, the pink skin rising into his mouth. He closed his eyes as though he were savoring some rich dish, his lashes soft points against his cheeks.

Beth ached where they joined. The friction burned on her petals too long untouched, fire that made her want to open her legs wide. She did, sliding her feet on the covers, letting her hips arch upward.

“Do you feel it?” Ian asked.

A dozen phrases went through Beth’s head, but she gasped out, “Yes.”

“Your cunny is tight, my Beth. Squeezing me so hard.”

He smiled when he said it, feral and raw.

No man had ever done bawdy talk with her. Game girls had told her of it, but she’d never dreamed she’d hear it hot in her ear, spoken by a beautiful man.

“Squeeze me some more, love,” he murmured. “You feel so damn good.”

“Good,” Beth echoed. She tightened her muscles, and he groaned.
He
felt good. All thick and hard and moving inside her. She tried to tell him, to give him bawdy talk in return, but she couldn’t form words.

“I wanted you in Covent Garden,” he said. “I wanted you straddling me in the dark while I came up inside you.”

“In the theatre?”

“Right there in the damn box, with the opera blaring on. I’d take you, make you my own.” He put his hand on her neck over the spot where he’d given her the love bite. “I branded you.”

Beth smiled. “You, too.” She touched his neck. “I branded
you.”

He laced his fingers hard through hers and pressed her hand to the bed. “Belong to me.”

“No one here to dispute that at the moment.”

“Always mine. Always, Beth.” Thrusts punctuated the words.

Always.
Her body jerked in rhythm with his, the bed creaking. It was a solid bed, thick mahogany, made to take men like Ian loving thejr women.

She was his lover. Beth laughed for the delight of it. Being with Ian was decidedly unrespectable, and she felt freer than she’d ever felt in her life. Under him, she could spread her wings.

Beth laughed again. She was spreading herself as far as she could. Ian’s eyes were closed, his face twisted in pleasure. His thrusts accelerated, his hips pounding as if it were the last coupling he’d ever have.

He drove her into the mattress, his body heavy on hers, his sweat dripping onto her skin. Rain streamed against the windows, and a boom of thunder swallowed Beth’s sudden cry of ecstasy.

Ian shouted, not waiting for thunder. Lightning flared, bathing the room in white. The light outlined Ian’s body, his sharp-lined face, burning his hair red. In that moment, Ian opened his eyes, like twin suns coming into view, and let his gaze directly meet Beth’s.

Beth stopped breathing. For the first time since she’d met him, Ian’s gaze fully connected with hers. His eyes were golden, as she’d known, but she’d not known that his black pupils were ringed with green. His body slowed as he studied her, as though looking at her arrested all his attention. He didn’t blink, didn’t move, just let his gaze rest on hers. She touched his face in wonder. “Ian.”

Ian started and turned his head, and when he looked back, his eyes drifted sideways, not meeting hers. Beth’s heart wrenched. “No, please don’t look away.”

Ian closed his eyes and bent to kiss her.

“Why won’t you look at me?” she asked. “What’s wrong with me?”

He opened his eyes again, but his gaze didn’t meet hers.

“Nothing. You are perfect.”

“Then why?”

“I can’t explain. Don’t ask me to explain.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She stroked his hair as tears leaked from her eyes.

“Don’t cry.” He kissed her wet cheek. “This is the time for joy.”

“I know.”

He was still inside her, thick and hard, spreading her marvelously.
Don’t hunger for what you can’t have,
she admonished herself.
Take pleasure in what you can.
Such thoughts had got her through the worst days.

She wanted all of Ian, body and soul, when she knew she couldn’t have that. He was giving her what he could: bodily pleasure and momentary joy. She’d asked him to have a purely carnal affair with her. If she hurt because she couldn’t have more, it was her own fault.

“Ian, you are so bad for me,” she said.

He gave her a half smile. “I’m the Mad Mackenzie.”

Beth pressed his face between her hands, anger suddenly rising. “That is other people’s explanation, because they don’t understand you.”

He looked away. “You always try to be kind to me.”

“It isn’t kind. It’s the truth.”

“Shh.” Ian kissed her. “Too many words.” Beth agreed. Ian kissed her again, occupying her mouth with something much more satisfying.

He began to move inside her again. Ian’s body was hot and tense, the noises he made exciting her beyond what she thought she could feel.

This is bliss,
her mind whispered as he took her to cresting waves of pleasure. She came beneath his body, twisting and arching against his hips. She moved and moaned until the black waves subsided, and Ian crashed down against her, their bodies melding into one line of heat.

Thunder cracked right overhead, and Beth jumped awake. Ian lay beside her, propped on one elbow, watching her sleep.

“Hello,” she murmured.

Ian gave her a slow smile. She couldn’t tell if he’d slept or not, but he didn’t look tired at all.

“I thought the storm would be over by now,” she said.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Early morning.”

Beth grimaced. “Isabella will be worried.”

“She knows I will take care of you.”

“And she might be with Mac.” Beth grinned at him.

“Maybe he’s gone home with her.”

Ian’s look told her he didn’t agree. “Tonight was the first time he’d spoken to her in three years.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“He was very angry when I told him she wanted to go to the casino. I don’t think their reunion will be pleasing.”

“You’re a pessimist, Ian. Isabella has been such a dear friend to me, and I want to see her happy again.”

“She chose to leave Mac,” Ian pointed out.

“I know. But she regrets it.”

Ian’s body was like a warm wall, his touch amazingly gentle. “When they were married they were either wildly happy or fighting tooth and nail. No in-between.”

“I suppose such drama would be tiring.”

Beth could imagine herself deliriously happy with Ian, so happy she couldn’t bear it. She also saw that she could be completely miserable. Her heart had certainly never flipflopped so much in her life as after she’d met Ian Mackenzie. Ian stroked her hair, and she closed her eyes. How lovely to stay here for always in this bubble of contentment, floating away in quiet happiness.

“I should go home.” She hadn’t meant for her voice to sound so sad.

“Curry will have to fetch more clothes for you before you can leave. Yours are ruined.”

“Does Curry even know where we are?”

“No.”

Then no one knew, Beth thought. She and Ian were utterly alone. Her heart squeezed with joy.

“He’ll worry, won’t he?” she murmured.

“He’s used to me disappearing. I always turn up again. He knows that.”

Beth studied him. “Why do you disappear?”

“Sometimes it gets too much for me. Trying to follow what people say, trying to remember what I’m supposed to do so people will think I’m normal. Sometimes the rules are too hard. So I go.”

Beth traced his muscular arm with her fingernail. “Where do you go?”

“Most times to the wilds around Kilmorgan. It’s a vast place, and I can lose myself for a long time. You’ll like it there.”

She ignored this. “What about other times?”

“Courtesans’ houses. As long as I pay, they leave me be. I don’t have to think of conversation there.”

Beth had grown used to Ian’s bluntness, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hear about his being with other women. She imagined that courtesans were happy to give Ian sanctuary whenever he wanted it. He was rich, had the body of a god, and possessed devastating charm, especially when he smiled. Even his sideways look gave him a roguish quality. If she were a courtesan, she’d give Ian a special rate.

“Anywhere else?”

“Sometimes I take a train to a place I’ve never been or hire a horse and ride into the countryside. To find somewhere I can be alone.”

“Your family must go wild with worry.”

Ian propped himself on his arm and drew his finger between Beth’s breasts. “They did at first. Hart never wanted to let me out of his sight.”

“But he eventually did, obviously.”

“He used to be furious when I went. Threatened to have me locked up again.”

Beth’s anger stirred. “His Grace the duke sounds a great bully.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “He realized I was going, no matter what. Curry took my side. Told Hart to fuck himself.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “And Curry is still alive?”

“As you see.”

“Good for Curry.”

“Hart worries, that’s all.”

Beth frowned. “He let you out of the asylum and got your commission of lunacy reversed. Why, so you could help him win at high finance?”

“I don’t much care why he did it. I only care that he did.”

Beth grew suddenly angry with Hart. “It’s not fair. He shouldn’t use you so.”

“I don’t mind.”

“But—“

Ian put his fingers on her lips. “I’m not a servant. I help when I can but take something for myself.”

“Like when you disappear for days at a time.”

“Hart could have let me rot in that asylum. I’d be there now if not for him. I don’t mind reading his treaties and moving around his stocks if that’s what it takes to pay him back.”

Beth twined her fingers through his. “I suppose I can be grateful to him for letting you out, at least.”

Ian stroked the backs of her fingers, not listening. His warmth covered her like a blanket, and his breath burned as he kissed the line of her hair. “Tell me about your husband,” he murmured.

“Thomas?”
Now?
“Why?”

“You loved him desperately. What was that like?”

Beth lay quietly, remembering. “When he died, I thought I would die, too.”

“You hadn’t known him very long.”

“That didn’t matter. When you love, especially with all your heart, it comes upon you so fast, you don’t have time to resist.”

“And then he died,” Ian said. “And you can never love that deeply again.”

“I don’t know.”

Liar.
Beth knew she was falling stupidly in love with Ian, and she had no idea how to stop herself.
What is the matter with me?

She answered her own question when Ian suddenly gave her a bruising, punishing kiss. Her tension dissolved and she gladly slipped her arms around him, holding him close. Ian made it evident he didn’t want to talk anymore. He shoved her legs apart with a strong hand and pushed his way inside her again, no argument. Mrs. Barrington would say that only a very loose woman would let a man have his way with her without protest. Beth rocked back on the pillows and spread her thighs, happily violating Mrs. Barrington’s strictures in every way. Beth slept again. When she woke, the window was a dim gray square. Ian stood to one side of it, looking out. Rain still beat down, but the thunder had abated. Ian was naked, and he rested one hand on the wall, his glorious backside half turned to her.

In the gloomy light that played on his powerful muscles, he reminded Beth of the perfect male sculptures she’d seen in the Louvre. But those sculptures had been marble and alabaster; Ian was like living bronze.

When she stirred, Ian put a finger to his lips. “Is someone out there?” she whispered in alarm. They were on the second floor in the front of the pension, the nicest room, the landlord had assured them. But the windows had no curtains, and Beth felt queasily exposed. “Inspector Fellows is watching the house,” Ian said.

“He’s brought along some police.”