For Desire Alone (13 page)

His brother sank back into his seat and leaned over the desk. “Father has put his sights back on you.”

Bile rose in John’s throat as he stared at his brother. “What? Why?”

Adam shook his head and turned his eyes away from his brother. “I finally defied him one too many times. He has cut me off entirely and will soon darken your doors to tell you he intends to give you everything. But you know that everything comes at a very high price, indeed.”

“No.” John rose from his seat. “I want nothing to do with him and his inheritance. I have worked very hard to create my own fortune so I would not have to depend upon his ‘grace’.”

“You know that doesn’t matter,” Adam said with a blank expression that was more telling than any emotion would have been. Their father had broken him. “He will come and keep coming. If he must destroy you to get you under his thumb, he will make every attempt to do so.”

“Yes,” John said, his tone flat to his own ears. “There is no denying that is true.”

The bile in his throat threatened to rise farther, but he swallowed it down, just as he was forced to swallow down this news.

Adam rose from his seat and moved toward him a step before he stopped, hesitant. “I am sorry. So sorry for everything, John. But I wanted to warn you if I could.”

John stared at his brother. He could see the strain the past few years had taken. Although Adam was two years his younger, he looked older at present. Drawn out. Pained.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Thank you for coming here. I assume doing so has put you at risk.”

“Oh yes.” Adam shook his head. “I’m certain I shall be punished in some way. Although what more he can take, I shudder to imagine.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Adam shook his head. “Just forgive me for taking his side. For being so naïve and blind to his true self.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” John reassured him. Certainly, he had blamed his brother over the years, but seeing him now… He could feel no anger toward him, only pity. And a wish that everything could have been different between them.

Adam smiled slightly, almost as if he could read John’s mind. “I have missed you.”

John drew back. These deeper emotions were not easy for him, after all he had spent a lifetime being punished for their display, but what he felt was stronger than what he feared. With a grim nod, he said, “I have missed you too.”

His brother glanced at him in surprise, but then he smiled and John saw in his eyes the brother he’d once known.

“I’ve been under his thumb for so long,” Adam said. “I might be able to help
you
.”

“You mean to report all his plans to me and play spy?” John asked.

Adam flinched, but then nodded. “Something to that effect, yes.”

John shook his head. “No, I am better than him. I would not ask that of you.”

Adam drew back in surprise that cut John to his core. His brother had been so removed from kindness for so long, he could hardly understand it now.

“Where are you staying, for I assume he removed you from the house he provided?” John pressed.

“Oh yes.” Adam laughed. “I have been summarily thrown into the gutter. But I have let a small home with the monies I secreted away for years.”

John shifted. “Come to see me in a few days if you’d like. I think I have a place for you in one of my ventures.”

Adam’s brow wrinkled. “I did not come here for your charity.”

John shook his head. “We’ve spent years being pitted against each other. If you’d like the opportunity, I am certain it would be much better to work together. Think about it and stop by in a few days to give me your answer.”

His brother rose again and held out a hand. “I will. Thank you, John.”

John took the hand. Already his brother’s handshake seemed stronger. “Thank you. For taking this risk. I appreciate the warning more than you know.”

But as his brother left the room, John sank back into his chair. The warning gave him time, but he knew his father. Nothing would prevent Vaughn Rycroft from making the attempt to take what he wanted. He could only hope it was an attempt that would fail. But until it was over, nothing was safe and there would be no escaping.

Except with one woman, who he needed to see, to touch, more than ever.

Mariah paced her bedchamber. Her restless steps made her nightshift sweep around her ankles, but she did not bother to lift her hem or slow her stride. She couldn’t. All she could do was think of John.

It had been hours since she left him in his parlor. Left him with a sick, lost look on his face that was unlike anything he had ever seen in his life.

A brother.

She had never known he had a brother. Certainly Owen had never made mention of the fact, even though they had been friends for years. But then, as she looked back on her lover with the benefit of distance, she was beginning to recognize that he hadn’t really made much attempt to care about any other person, even his friend. He undoubtedly knew about John’s brother, but the separation between the men likely did nothing for Owen.

After all, the fact did not interrupt his own pleasure, so why would it matter to him?

She pursed her lips, angry at herself for having such treacherous thoughts about a man she loved. True or not, they were not kind and Owen could do nothing to defend himself against them.

She shook her head and her mind flitted back to John. This might be an affair only, but she cared for him. She refused to think about how deeply, but even if she didn’t analyze further, the fact remained the same. He was in her heart, even if they could be nothing but lovers and friends.

Since she cared, she wanted to help him. But how?

Behind her, there was a light knock on her door and Mariah turned in surprise as her maid poked her head inside.

“I—I’m sorry, miss,” the girl said, cheeks flaming. “I know it’s late for such an intrusion, but Lymon sent me up to tell you that you have a guest.”

Mariah’s eyes went wide as her gaze slipped to the clock. It was nearly midnight. A very bold person her visitor must be, indeed, if the person intruded upon her so late at night.

“Who is it?” she asked, reaching for her robe.

The girl blushed deeper. “It is…it’s Mr. Rycroft, miss.”

Mariah paused with her robe on only half her body and stared at the girl. “Mr. Rycroft?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “Is here?”

“Yes, miss. In the parlor.”

She nodded and hoped her glee and anxiety weren’t too obvious a mixture on her face.

“Yes, very good. I’ll be down directly.”

“I’ll have Lymon tell him.”

As the girl left, Mariah spun on the mirror to stare at herself. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright with excitement. John was here. Here in her home, where he had not called for over a year. And then it had certainly had nothing to do with her. He had accompanied Owen on a brief visit and teased her mercilessly about a chair in her parlor that was done in an awful pink fabric, which she had changed directly.

Why she recalled so many details of the day, she had no idea. And now he was here, while they were in the midst of a passionate affair. Despite the fact that he had told her he did not wish to see her here. To picture her in her bed with his former best friend.

She shook her head. There was no time to think. No time to do anything but smooth her hair and rush to the door. She clung to the handrail as she scurried down the stairs at twice her normal speed and nearly put herself soundly on her ass. Somehow she made it to the parlor door, though, and skidded to a stop as she stared at the door separating her from John.

“Breathe,” she whispered, then opened the parlor door and stepped inside.

She had every intention of maintaining distance, of allowing him to come to her, to share whatever was on his mind in his own time and fashion. But when she saw him standing by the fire, his eyes hollow and his lips pressed together in an unhappy line, all her intentions fled. She raced across the room to him and slipped her arms around him.

“Oh John,” she whispered as she held him.

She had so much more to say, but he would not allow it. He gripped her shoulders lightly and stepped away from her just a fraction. When he looked down at her, his eyes were wild with emotion and dark with pain. Pain that touched her.

“You asked me what you could do,” he said, his voice rough with desire and emotion bound together.

She nodded.

“This,” he said, then dropped his mouth to hers for a hard, passionate kiss. He drove his tongue between her lips, demanding, crushing, utterly devastating in its power. She went weak, leaning against him, clinging to his shoulders as she tried to maintain some equilibrium.

An impossible task when he had begun rocking against her in a clear indication of what he would do next.

She drew back, panting, and stared up at him. “I—” she stammered, trying to clear her cloudy mind. “You want to do this…
here
?” When he nodded, she blinked. “But you said…because this was the home I shared with Owen, you didn’t want…”

He turned his face as if slapped, but when he looked back at her there was no diminishment to his desire.

“I know what I said,” he growled, hauling her closer. “But the last thing I am thinking of is Owen. I just want you. I—I need you.”

She would have staggered back at that last admission but John held her too tightly. He stared down at her, holding her gaze with his, sucking her in to his passion and his pain until she could see nothing, feel nothing else.

“Yes,” she whispered and his lips descended again.

She clung to his shoulders, dragging him closer, pouring all the comfort he would not allow her to offer into him. She tasted him, delicately at first and then with increasing passion as she pushed him toward the settee in the middle of the room.

He fell back against the pillows and stared up at her as she stepped into better light and untied her silky robe. As it fell away, he caught his breath and she couldn’t help but smile.

She had always insisted upon pretty night-rails made of satin and lace. This one was no different, made from white silk with only a swatch of lace covering each breast. It clung to her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Do you like what you see, Mr. Rycroft?” she teased as she slipped a finger beneath the thin strap of the shift and teased it over her shoulder ever-so-slightly.

“You know I do,” he said, motioning to the swollen outline of his cock against his trouser front. “I think it is more than obvious.”

“Indeed,” she said, wetting her lips as she thought of taking that very cock deep inside her in some way, any way. “Why don’t loosen your trousers and free that very uncomfortable-looking erection while I too unburden myself of the confines of clothes?”

He smiled and did as she asked. His cock popped free and Mariah’s eyes went wide as he immediately took himself in hand and began to stroke. Watching him pleasure himself in that way made her pussy wet and her nipples harden even further against the soft lace.

She swished her hips as she glided the night shift strap away from her shoulder and revealed one breast. He pumped his cock harder as she licked her thumb and swirled it around the tight, perfect peak.

“Fuck, Mariah,” he groaned, hesitating in his self-pleasure as he squeezed his eyes shut.

She smiled and glided the opposite strap from her shoulder. Now her gown hung only from the waist down and her breasts were fully revealed.

“So pretty,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” she whispered and then shook her hips to force her gown into a pool at her feet. She stepped free of it, kicking it away to stand before him naked.

With a groan, he released his cock to reach for her. He caught her hip and drew her forward to rest his cheek against her hip and stroke her thigh with his opposite hand. Strong currents of pleasure shot from his fingertips, through her flesh, into her blood. They heated her body, making her sex clench and her nipples tingle.

“You make me wild,” he murmured against her flesh. “Being with you is unlike any other woman.”

She stared down at him, once again taken aback by his confessions. He who always behaved as if women were interchangeable cogs in his machine of pleasure. But she was special to him, and even if that feeling only lasted a moment, it still made her wild with desire and giddy with pride.

“Then let me comfort you,” she whispered. “Lie back, allow for this pleasure without thought for consequence.”

He jerked his gaze to her. “And what of
your
pleasure? How do I release any thought for that?”

“You don’t have to worry about my pleasure,” she said with a smile. “I will experience a great deal of it, I am certain.”

He hesitated and then, to her surprise, he acquiesced, sinking back against the settee and staring up at her in anticipation and even a little anxiety.

Feelings she hoped she would soon put to ease, along with the pain she was certain he did not wish to reveal so clearly. She caught up a pillow from the settee and dropped it on the floor between his legs, then she knelt down between them. He caught his breath as her intentions became clear. But she didn’t allow him time to direct or protest, she simply caught his heated, throbbing member and took him deep into her throat in one gliding stroke.