To Sin With A Stranger (16 page)

He’d never felt such a passion throb within him, not like this. Never before had he felt such an insane drive to feel a woman beneath him. But then Isobel was not any other woman. She was the only woman he wanted. The only one he somehow…needed.

Pushing up on one hand, he dipped his tongue into her mouth, then ran it gently over her upper lip. She writhed beneath him, brushing her thighs against his hardness straining against his breeches.

Her hand slid down his side, raising goose bumps on his skin; then she moved her hand between them and ran her fingers lightly over his breeches and along his penis, making it throb and twitch.

God, how he wanted her.

Didn’t she know what her touch did to him?

He could not restrain himself any longer, and pulled at the thin slip of ribbon that cinched the neckline of her gown. The ribbon slid back through its satin casing, and the gown opened to him.

Cool air rushed over her skin, and as he lowered the bit of silk chemise that concealed her from him, her nipples hardened. He lifted her breasts up from the confines of her corset and, in the soft haze of moonlight, gazed at the full roundness of her. He leaned up and kissed her again, urging a little sigh from her lips, and then he slid down her and took a nipple into his mouth.

He swirled his wet tongue over the rose tip of her taut nipple, then sucked it along with a cool breath into his mouth. As he stroked her with his tongue, he cupped her other breast in his hand, kneading the soft flesh, heating the pebbled nipple until it began to soften under his touch.

Isobel slapped her palms down on his shoulders and gasped at the sensation, arching her body against him. Pressing the most intimate part of her against his erection. This was his undoing.

Sterling leaned up and caught Isobel under her arms and moved her higher against the huge statue. She looked down at him, confusion bright in her eyes.

Sterling peered at the tangle of marble and female legs, and frowned for a moment until he realized what he needed to do.

Grasping Isobel’s ankles, he lifted them in the air, parting them, and placing one on either side of statue’s outer legs, opening her to him.

Isobel began to pant and tried to sit up. “Sterling—”

He reached out a hand and pressed it against her middle, guided her back against the marble chest as he lowered his head between her legs.

Gently he spread her feminine folds, exposing the pink pearl to his mouth. He flicked that most sensitive part of her with his darting tongue before drawing it into his mouth and sucking it, sending Isobel’s body into tiny spasms.

“Sterling,
please
,” she whimpered. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders.

As he swirled his tongue around the tiny bud, he eased one finger, and then another, into her wet heat, gliding them in and out of her until her thighs quivered and bore down upon his fingers with each thrust.

“Sterling,” Isobel moaned, reaching down and cupping the back of his head until he looked up at her. “Please come to me.” He nodded and turned his head, kissing her silky inner thighs before moving higher, over her bunched skirts. He suckled at one of her breasts, and then along her throat until he reached her full lips.

He leaned to one side for an instant to lower his front fall, and then positioned his penis between her hot, wet cleft. She bucked against him, but if she was indeed a maid, he must restrain himself. He pressed just his plum-shaped tip inside her at first, but she tightened around him, making him squeeze his eyes in concentration. “Isobel, slowly.”

Isobel shook her head frantically from side to side. “No.
Now
. I want you, Sterling. Now.”

He leveled his head with hers and looked deep into her eyes. “Isobel, I—”

She slid her bottom down then, moving him into her, past the veil of her maidenhead. She gasped at that moment, and clung to him for several seconds. At last he felt her body relax, and he began to move inside her.

He thrust into her, long, slow strokes at first, building a rhythm between them, before plunging deeper and harder into her.

Isobel never stopped looking into his eyes. Her mouth chased his with every thrust. Her muscles gripped him tightly and began to pump his penis faster and faster, making his body slam harder into her depths.

Sterling felt the beginnings of rush and broke his gaze with her. He had to stop. But at that instant, Isobel lifted her right leg from behind the marble knee and wrapped it around Sterling’s back. She bucked wildly against him, and at the moment she cried out in her ecstasy, her body clenched around him so tightly that he could not stop himself. “Oh God, Isobel.”

A flash of heat swept over him, and he caught her gasping mouth with his lips and kissed her hard as his essence pumped into her.

I love you
.

The be-all and end-all of life should not be to get rich, but to enrich the world.

Forbes

The Sinclair residence
Grosvenor Square

The sun imbued the sky with graduated shades of violet and pink. Sterling stood at the door admiring the sunrise, and trying earnestly to remove the giddy smile from his mouth before entering the house.

He had just begun to turn, his fingers already on the door latch, when a gleaming carriage drawn by four matching bays entered the square.

Och, he didn’t need any more gossip in the newspaper, and so he hurried inside and closed the door before he could be observed.

He had only just removed his coat and set it upon a hook in the passage when the front door opened again and Poplin stepped inside.

Poplin seemed every bit as surprised to see Sterling, as Sterling was to see the manservant. “Oh, good morning, my lord. My, you have certainly risen early.” His gaze swept Sterling’s rumpled evening attire. “I—I mean, I trust you had a good evening, my lord.” The old man’s usual chalky pallor flushed as pink as the sunrise.

“Excellent, actually.” Sterling passed Poplin and opened the door in time to see the posh carriage passing the house. He closed the door and studied Poplin. “I know that part of your arrangement, and Mrs. Wimpole’s as well, is that you are not required to live in this house.”

“That’s right, my lord.” Poplin gave a quick bow. “But if you will please excuse me, I need to tend to the fires. Good chill in the air this morning. Wouldn’t want your family to catch their death while they sleep. It is still several hours before noon. Your brothers and sisters will not be down for their breakfast until then. Might I ask Mrs. Wimpole, when she arrives, to take a morning tray up to you?”

“No need, Poplin. I can wait to eat with the others.”

“Very good, my lord.” Without waiting for any further requests from Sterling, Poplin turned quickly and tottered off down the passageway.

Sterling opened the door again and peered out. The fancy carriage was gone. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Our manservant arriving to work in a carriage? Och, what am I thinking?” Mayhap he should sleep—for his mind was making some illogical leaps—but oddly enough, Sterling did not feel the least bit tired.

He chuckled softly as he closed the front door and then took the stairs to his garret.

“Good afternoon, Sterling. Aren’t you the chipper chap this day?” Siusan grinned over the lip of her teacup.

She was alone at the dining table, though the noon hour pinged on the tall case clock in the passage, the signal to all that the breakfast was served.

“Lovely day.” He knew he was still smiling. His mouth was sore, causing him to guess that he’d been smiling all night in his sleep as well. He gathered some fruit and toasted bread from the hunt board to break his fast, then sat down at the table with Siusan.

“We were worried something might have happened to you last night. You never came home.” Siusan settled her cup on the table and folded her arms to await his reply.

“Well, Su, as you can plainly see, I am sitting right here. So I did come home.” He popped a bit of bread smeared with marmalade into his mouth, and could not help but smile as he chewed.

Siusan unfolded her arms and flattened her hands on the table. “Oh, heavens. Just tell me! What are you so insanely happy about?”

Sterling finished chewing his bread, then swallowed and slowly washed it down with a sip of tea. “She is going to marry me.”

Siusan leaped to her feet and raced around to kiss his cheek. “How did you ask her? Tell me you said something dripping with romance and passion.” When he did not immediately answer, she frowned. “Oh please, Sterling, you did not appeal to her sense of logic, marrying a one-day duke and all that nonsense?”

Sterling shook his head. “I did not ask her to marry me…
yet
.”

“Well, certainly you didn’t. You spoke to her father.” Siusan sat down again.

“Nay. I did not ask anyone.” He smiled brightly. “I just know. Nay, I am certain she will accept me the moment I offer her my troth.”

Siusan propped her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. “Sterling, what have you done?” She turned her gaze up at him. “Once word slips out, and it will, for the
on dit
columnists seem to have taken up residence in the bushes on the square, we will be expelled from Society. Everyone will realize that you were not an unwitting victim in this wager, but the driver of it all!”

“It will not matter. I will marry her, and we will win the largest wager in White’s history. Don’t you understand, Su? Father will approve of my wedding her. She is from a known and respected family. She is not a dancer or actress, like the others.”

“Don’t
you
understand?” She hissed angrily through her teeth. “This wager is not only about the money. It is about launching all of us into Society, so we can redeem ourselves in Father’s eyes as well. Cease thinking only about yourself, Sterling. Everything you do has consequences for us all. You must understand this!”

Siusan stormed out of the dining room, passing Lachlan, who was just entering from the hallway. His brother smiled as he entered the dining room. “Su seems in a good twist this morn. You must have had a
very
good time last night to put her in such a state this early. So what did you do, eh, Sterling?”

Later that afternoon
The Carington residence
Leicester Square

A flash of movement in the passageway beyond her father’s library propelled Isobel to her feet. She quickly straightened the newspaper on the desk that she’d been covertly poring over for any mention of her adventure with Lord Blackburn to view Lord Elgin’s marbles.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Isobel. I didn’t wish to disturb you.” Bluebell entered the room, not daring to look up, as if she feared seeing something she ought not. “Your father asked if you would come up to his bedchamber. He ain’t well enough to come below just now.”

Isobel hadn’t had time to finish reading the columns, and so she leaned down pretending to smooth the newspaper with her palm. She smiled up at the maid, but it became immediately evident that Bluebell was not leaving.

Blast
. She would just have to hope for the best. She probably didn’t have anything to fret about anyway. They hadn’t left the coal shed until it was nearly dawn. No newspaper reported events so quickly, especially one as trivial as someone viewing statues.

“Absolutely, Bluebell, right away. I was just seeing that…everything was straight and tidy for his meeting with his committee this evening.” Brushing her hands together briskly, as if to remove some unseen dust, she hurried from the library and then up the staircase to her father’s bedchamber.

“Good morning, Father,” she announced cheerily as she opened the door. The heavy curtains were still drawn, making the room nearly as dim as the coal shed had been, and it took several moments for her eyes to adjust enough to see the dour expression on her father’s face.

He lay propped up by several plump pillows, with a damp cloth draped dramatically over his forehead. “Tell me, Isobel, is Lord Blackburn going to offer?” He brought his hand to his head and groaned.

Isobel felt her eyes bulge in their sockets. Did he know the early hour at which she had arrived home? She was sure he had been asleep and she had been very quiet. “On my honor, Father, I—I do not know what Lord Blackburn’s intentions are.”

He opened his eyes, yanked the wet cloth away, and sat up. “He has yet to come to an agreement on the price, I am sure that is all that is left of the matter. Not that price should matter a tick. The Sinclair family likely has more gold than the Crown. Have you seen the ring on his finger? That alone must be worth half the metopes.”

“The metopes?” Isobel muttered. Oh, thank the heavens, she had misunderstood, and her father was not talking about Lord Blackburn’s offer for
her
but rather his intention to assist Elgin!

“The carved spacers between triglyphs on a frieze.” When Isobel just peered blankly back at him, his tone grew very loud. “The marbles, Isobel. I am speaking of Elgin’s Parthenon marbles! What did you think I meant?”

“Oh,” she replied quickly, “the marbles certainly. It is only that I had not heard the term…
metope
before.”

“I can understand the allure of such a collection, but Elgin must be made an example! One cannot use his position in government to obtain permission to loot antiquities for personal gain. If the cost of this lesson is the loss of the marbles, then so be it.”

“No, Father. The marbles are said to be a gift of art to the world. You must not let them waste away to prove a point of honor. Elgin claims he cannot pay for proper storage and preservation. You heard as much at the soirée last eve.
Please
.”

Her father seemed suddenly interested in what she had to say to him. He leaned forward, and Isobel had the impression that he was studying her expression as thoroughly as the words she had spoken. “So you do not believe the Sinclair family will pay Elgin’s exorbitant price.”

“I do not know, Father, but I believe with all my heart that if you have the influence to convince the British Museum to acquire the collection, you should. Else you and your committee will forever be held accountable for the loss of an irreplaceable world treasure.”