To Sin With A Scoundrel (36 page)

Ciara spotted a small sketchbook buried at the bottom. As he turned to lay out the food on the blanket, she edged a touch
closer and took it up.

“Wait—”

Too late.
She was already perusing the pages. The first drawings were a series of lovely pencil sketches depicting a robin atop her
nest, a barn swallow with its beak full of straw, a hawk hovering in graceful flight.

“Why are you loath to show your talents?” she began.

But as the next page turned, she fell silent.

It was her own profile that stared back at her, a trio of variations done as quick doodles. The lines were spare and simple,
yet so alive. Ciara caught her breath and turned again.

“Bloody hell,” swore Lucas.

Ciara looked down at the drawing of her naked, amid a tangle of sheets.

He grabbed for the book, but she jerked it away. “Please, let me look.”

“Damn it, they weren’t meant for any eyes but mine,” he growled.

Did he really see her as such?

There was a beauty, a passion to the strokes of graphite that nearly singed her fingertips. She touched the textured paper,
letting her hand linger for a long moment before slowly shutting the covers. “Lucas, you have a remarkable talent.”

“For what? Yet another way to fritter away the idle hours?” He curled a sardonic smile. “Scribbling sketches is hardly a serious
sort of skill. But then, as you know, I am not much given to serious pursuits.”

“On the contrary, you have proved that when you put your mind to it, you are capable of mastering a complex subject like ornithology.”

“Only because you are so smart, and an excellent teacher.”

“Lucas, it has been an equal exchange. You have taught me a great deal, too.”

His gaze flickered, and for an instant he looked like a vulnerable boy rather than a jaded man of the town. “About what?”

“About laughter and how humor keeps the world from being too grim to bear. About spontaneous exuberance and how to enjoy each
moment. About loyalty and how there is nothing so precious as love for family. About passion. And you have taught me a great
deal about…” Her pause was almost imperceptible. “Zoology.”

He blinked. “Zoology.”

“The study of animal life.”

“I’m aware of what the term means,” said Lucas dryly. “But it’s a rather broad field.”

“And not one that I have studied much.” On impulse, Ciara suddenly touched his shoulder. “In fact, I have a very basic question
that I was hoping you might be able to answer for me.”

“Which is?” His voice sounded a little odd.

“Is a man subject to the same spur-of-the-moment physical arousal as a woman?”

She saw his brows twitch. “Maybe more so,” he replied. “We are far more primitive creatures.”

“Ah.” She fiddled with the kerchief knotted at his throat. “Interesting.”

He hitched his hips back against the rock.

“Stay still, while I investigate.” She slid her hand inside his shirt, savoring the tickle of hair teasing against her fingertips.
She loved the feel of him—the slabs of manly muscles, the flat, pebbled nipples, the chiseling of his ribs. Drawing slow,
circling strokes across the breadth of his chest, she took her time in exploring every nuance of his shape.

He closed his eyes and she heard his breath ratchet up a notch.

That she had the power to make his body respond was exhilarating. Exciting. A glance down at his breeches showed that his
cock was stiff and straining against the soft leather. Slipping her hand out of his shirt, she pressed her palm to his length.

He groaned.

Ciara rubbed the heel of her hand up and down.

“Sweet Jesus,” he whispered. Bracing his elbows on the wind-carved granite, he tilted his head up to the sky.

With her thumb, Ciara fingered the outline of his cock’s crested head. “A perfect specimen, I think.” She worked one button
open. “But to be sure I had better have a closer peek.”

His teeth sunk into his lower lip.

A second fastening came undone. “Shall I go on?” she asked coyly.

“Yes,” he rasped. “Unless you wish to see me throw myself off this cliff.”

As the flap gave way, his shaft sprang free.
Lud, he was a magnificent, masculine creature.

He growled and guided her hand around him. She felt him swell with life. Rocking his hips slowly, Lucas moved himself within
her grip.

She dimly recalled that she had come here with every intention of putting an end to any further intimacies between them. So
much for resolve and reason. Somehow Lucas reduced her mind to a quivering mass of mush.

Teasing her touch more boldly, she stroked her fingers up and down his velvety length.

“Stop.”

She went very still. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“God, no.” He was shaking. “It’s just that in another instant I shall spill my seed like a randy little schoolboy.” He began
to tuck himself back in his breeches. “I think it’s time to end the lesson.” But his shaft seemed to disagree. Proudly defiant,
it nudged free from the flap.

“Hell,” he muttered.

“Is it painful?”

A half laugh. “Exquisitely so.”

“How—how do you relieve it?”

His eyes slitted half shut. “If I were in London, I would have three options. I could go home and finish what you have begun.
I could go out to a gaming hell and offend everyone around me with my foul temper. Or I could visit a bordello and pay an
exorbitant amount of money to have a beautiful woman bring me to a climax.”

The idea of him with another woman sent a sudden wave of pure, primal passion through her. Not that she had any real right
to feel possessive. She had no hold on him.

Let it go,
she warned herself. And yet, her hands refused to heed the order. They slid across the rock.

Her body followed, sidling close to his side. “But you are not in London,” she said softly.

All around them were the elemental forces of nature. Waves surged against the rocks below. Gulls swooped and shrieked with
wild abandon. The very air was alive, shimmering with sunlight and the tangy scent of the sea.

“No, I am not.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

He shifted against the rocks, so that his thigh was hard up against hers. “A scientist must explore all the possibilities—isn’t
that one of the first lessons you taught me?”

“Correct.”

“Hmmm.” His hand slid up under her skirts. “Let me see if I can remember what comes next.”

“Empirical data,” she whispered, nibbling at his earlobe. “One must always base scientific conclusions on actual experience
and observation.”

“Ah. Right.”

“Go on, sir.”

Lucas let out a husky laugh. “Are you propositioning me, Lady Sheffield?”

She ran her thumb along his lower lip. “I was rather hoping it would be the other way around, Lord Hadley.”

“I should be able to figure out the basic procedure on my own.” A tug lifted her gown and undergarments above her knees. The
wind ruffled lace and linen, billowing the layers of fabric up to her waist. Sunlight glinted off the stones, reflecting a
delicious warmth onto her legs. She stretched like a cat and purred with pleasure.

“Stay still, sweetheart.” Lucas’s laugh was low, lush as the ocean wave. “This is an important part of the experiment.” His
hands unlaced her half boots, undid her garters, and slipped off her stockings. They didn’t stop there—nimble fingers removed
her drawers with consummate ease. The breeze caught the delicate silk, and the garment sailed out to sea.

Ciara felt a little wicked, a little wanton, but gloriously alive. Some of her hairpins had fallen away, and her curls were
blowing loose, tickling her cheeks.

He pulled her onto his lap and eased her legs apart until she was straddling his muscled thighs. The rigid length of him was
like a shaft of sunlight against her flesh—sweetly sensuous heat spread to her core.

“L-Lucas.”

“Yes?” he said slowly.

“I…” She forgot what she was going to say as the head of his cock probed at her passageway. The sound of the sea surged in
her ears as he reached his large, lithe hand between her legs and guided himself inside her. She was slick and ready for him.

His finger found that perfect spot within her folds. Stroking back and forth, he thrust himself a little deeper.

Oh, Lud, there was something to be said for sin.

His tongue was in her mouth now, and the intimate friction of liquid flesh against flesh was intensely erotic. Now that she
had a taste of rakehell revelries, she craved more.
More.
With a soft moan, she sunk a little lower, grinding against his groin.

With a growl, he grasped her bottom and lifted her up. And then let her slide down. The feel of his manhood moving inside
sent another sizzle of heat through her.

“You may take charge of combining the ingredients,” he said in a husky whisper.

Ciara realized she could set her own rhythm.
What a fascinating discovery.
Clenching her knees against his thighs, she set her hands on his shoulders. Each slight change in tempo or angle resulted
in a heady new sensation.

Lucas looked up with a heavy-lidded smile. “I think the experiment is a success.”

“One must never rush to conclusions.” Despite the urgency building inside her, Ciara wished this moment might go on… forever.

His mouth curled up at the corners. “Oh, by all means, sweetheart, take your time.”

What a delightful discovery it was that sex was more than a rough, rapid spilling of seed. Kneading her hands along the sun-warmed
muscles of his back, Ciara set a slow, sensual pace to their lovemaking, matching her rise and fall to the ebb and flow of
the ocean. Water. Wind. Earth. Fire.
The elemental forces at play.
She felt in harmony with nature. With Lucas.

With herself.

A wave of joy flooded through her. There was nothing shameful or sordid in their coupling. She felt connected by far more
than a length of lustful flesh.

Love.

Like the swirling, surging heat within her, the word rose from her core. She had never meant to make herself vulnerable to
emotion again. Love was for dewy-eyed schoolgirls who were too naive to know that deceit and depravity could dress in the
fancy clothes of a titled gentleman. Love was for hopeless romantics.

Was there anything more hopelessly romantic than making love on a sun-kissed cliff overlooking the ocean?

Laughter bubbled up inside her. Leave it to Lucas to make the experience outrageously memorable.

Beneath the curl of his lashes, his eyes were the same color as the ocean—a rich seafoam hue, unfathomable in its complexity.
On the surface, he seemed her opposite, but he had far more depth to his character. He was kind, he was caring, he was compassionate.

He was wildly wonderful. And for this brief moment he was
hers
.

Elation crested inside her and then exploded into thousands of shimmering shards of sunlight.

Her cry rose on a gust of wind, followed an instant later by his hoarse shout echoing the waves bursting against the rocks.
He lifted her just enough to spill his seed on the stone, then let her fall back against his chest.

It was all so hopelessly romantic.
Impossibly romantic.

Ciara held him tightly, letting her breathing come back down to earth. Tears prickled her eyes—already a sense of loss was
mingled with his essence. But she would not spoil the moment by speaking of her feelings.

“Dear God.” Lucas looked up, light and shadow playing across his handsome face. “You are so achingly beautiful,” he whispered,
drawing her face down for a kiss. He tasted of sea salt and sweet wine. Of passion and tenderness. Of need and something she
couldn’t quite define.

“Lucas.” With her tongue, Ciara traced the sensuous curve of his lip. He had done this so many times, with so many women,
she reminded herself. For him, it wasn’t special.

“Another day, another dalliance,” she murmured, trying to strike just the right note of amused detachment.

“Aye, many shared my flesh,” he said softly. “But none has touched me like…” He let his words leave off to press his mouth
to the hollow of her throat.

Ciara felt her pulse quicken and thud against him. Much as she wished to know what he was going to say, she didn’t press him.
Unfinished was best for now.

His lips lingered for a moment, and then Lucas deftly smoothed the tangle of linen and lace back into place. He carried her
to the blanket and lay down, settling her cheek on his chest.

Don’t think,
she reminded herself. Just feel the wind and the warmth and the sheltering circle of his arms, holding her safe. No matter
that it was all too fleeting.

Lucas flexed his neck and stretched. His shoulder slid along rough stone, and his leg—his leg rubbed up against something
infinitely softer.

A man could get used to awaking to the feel of Ciara’s shapely derriere, he thought with a lazy smile. To the scent of her
perfume. Leaning in close to her hair, he inhaled the subtle fragrance of verbena and neroli. Funny, but he had never thought
of lemons and oranges as erotic. The women he consorted with wore earthy, exotic musks to arouse a man. Now, however, the
beguiling hint of citrus had him recalling the tart-sweet taste of her mouth…