A Scandalous Countess: A Novel of the Malloren World (42 page)

Beauty and the beast.

If he won her, the beau monde would speculate about why she’d entered such a mismatch. They’d say that Lady May needed to flee her shame and bury herself in the country. That Lady May had found her grand suitors gone and had to take the only man who’d have her. That Lady May had a taste for monsters. As with Charnley Vance.

She wasn’t coming, and he should be glad of it.

He wasn’t, selfish bastard that he was.

She’d revealed a chink in her armor—her sadly wanting marriage bed and her curiosity about the possibilities. Even a kiss had revealed the untapped passion that seethed in her.

He could release it. He silently toasted the ladies of his past who’d found it exciting to teach an angelic youth how to pleasure them. Some had liked it sweet, some had liked it naughty, and some had needed to be pushed to the edge of fear to achieve their full release. Those were the ones who’d favored him most after the wound.

He would discover Georgia’s tastes and pleasure her until she was bound to him forever.

He rose to set the stage. He extinguished all the candles but one, and set that far from the bed. It was possible Georgia had never seen a naked man and never been naked herself in front of one. He wanted to pleasure her, not shock her.

If she came.

He touched the decanter of port. Rich, strong, and sweet. He’d no idea why ladies rarely drank it, for they always liked it when they did. There was only one glass, but sharing would be part of their pleasure.

He picked up the vial of oil he’d purchased from an Oriental shop far from the fashionable parts of London. The glass was a swirl of jewel-like reds and oranges ornamented with gold. Held to catch the candlelight, it glowed like fire. Like the fire he intended to ignite.

If she came.

He’d had them blend the perfume of the oil to his design—spicy and musky. It was completely unlike her perfume, for there was nothing of pretty blossoms about it. He’d no wish for the oil to tell tales, so he’d used it on himself here. He’d sent Georgia a book scented with it to explain any trace she carried back to her room.

If she came.

He set the vial by the bed and turned down the covers to expose the sheets. Then he sat in the armchair again, sipping port and appreciating the cool breeze that came in through the window. The clock ticked away the minutes, and then he heard another noise. He watched the door handle move down.

She had come, and his heart began to thump.

She slipped into the room, wide-eyed, hesitant, but blushing sweetly in that sea-foam robe. Quickly, quietly she shut the door, but stayed against it, looking at him.

She was dressed as before in robe over white nightgown trimmed with a frill at neck and wrists. This time, her loose, disordered hair was powdered white. He regretted that, but it created a magically fey effect.

In all his preparations for this moment, he hadn’t anticipated the erotic power of Georgia Maybury, fairy princess.

Chapter 25

S
he whispered, “Dracy?”

He rose and went to her. “You’re like a creature from myth and magic.”

“So are you. Dragons?”

“Never fear. They only eat virgins.”

Her brows rose. “How many virgins have they eaten, then?”

He laughed at her way of picking up on an idea, but softly. Her parents slept on the far end of the corridor, but noise could carry.

“None, but they’ve nibbled their way through many more experienced women.”

He wanted her to know that, to remember what he’d said before and believe it. He brought her hand to his lips, and instead of kissing it, nibbled gently on a finger.

“I should be shocked,” she said unsteadily. “You’re a thorough rake.”

“To be condemned to rake coals in hell? Surely to deserve that fate a man must be cruel. I assure you, I’m never cruel to ladies in the night.”

He dipped one of her fingers in the wine and then sucked the wine off.

Her breasts rose and fell from just that.

He dipped his own finger and offered it to her.

After a moment, she licked the wine off.

His heart pounded, but he said, “Do you like it?”

“It seems a good enough port.”

Again he laughed. Why had he thought she’d not have tasted port wine? This was a woman who’d smoked a pipe for the experience and held an entertainment of living statues, male as well as female.

But with the males emasculated.

He offered her the glass. “More?”

She took it and sipped.

“Who goes first?” he asked.

“What?”

“Our quarter hour of power.”

Her hands tightened on the glass. “I’m not sure either of us should. It would be wicked.”

“This is wicked. Who goes first?”

She licked wine from her lips, which did nothing for his control, then said, “You.”

“Why?”

When she didn’t answer, he said, “You go first.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not sure what to demand and are hoping to learn from me. If you go first you’ll follow your instincts and desires.” He stepped closer and put his fingers over hers on the glass. “What do you truly want, my fey Circe? What do you want to see, to do, to have done to you?”

She took a step away from him, and her back came up against a bedpost so that the port sloshed in the glass. She took another drink, a gulp, and swallowed. “I want what we spoke of. To see you naked.”

“Too easy,” he said and moved away from her to give her a better view.

Slowly he unfastened the buttons; then he peeled the robe back to let it slither to the floor.

She watched the whole time, wide-eyed and then slack jawed.

But then she started out of her daze, collecting herself, and sipped the wine.

Now she studied him, up and down, meeting the challenge, but concentrating as if expecting an examination later. Concentrating particularly on his rising erection.

“Turn, please.”

Amused by the squeak in her voice, he did so, slowly, but continuing until he faced her again, which he was sure was not what she’d intended.

She surprised him by looking seriously at his face. “You have a lot of scars, in many places.”

“None serious.”

“I forget your navy past. That you’ve fought in a war. You seem…I’m not sure ‘gentle’ is the word, but…”

“I hope I’m a gentleman, and I have no natural taste for violence of any sort.”

“But you did your duty, and you’re always ready for it, aren’t you? As when you were attacked by thieves. I see the wound.”

“Old habits take time to shed. I hope to become a thoroughly easygoing country gentleman in time.”

She smiled. “You’ll need some fat on your belly and a lazy way of moving.”

“Moving?”

“You move like a warrior, ready to command.”

“I was only a lieutenant. I obeyed far more orders than I gave.”

“If you’d stayed in the navy, you’d have become an admiral. I’m sure of that. You don’t regret leaving?”

“Georgia, we can discuss my navy career at any time. Will you waste your diminishing minutes? I’m still yours to command.”

She glanced at the mantel clock and her breasts rose and fell. “Will you come to me so I can touch you?”

“I’m yours to command,” he reminded her.

She put aside the glass of wine. “Then come to me.”

He did so, cock high, trying to tame it and the beating
drum of desire. He was almost pressed against her when she finally put her right hand on his chest to stop him. He covered it before he could even try to control the movement, loving to have her soft hand there where it belonged.

Every part of him said, “Mine.”

She looked at their hands, and hers moved a little. “Do you think married couples do this sort of thing?”

“Shame if they don’t.”

“We didn’t. Dickon and I. He came to me when I was in bed.”

He raised her hand and kissed it, drawing her eyes up to his. Her big, beautiful, perplexed eyes. “I pity him. I fear he had no notion of the possibilities. If you were my wife, I’d see you naked every night.”

“Every night? Oh, do you want me to…?”

“This is your time,” he reminded her, but he put her hand back on his body, but lower, on his belly not far above his cock. “If you hadn’t done this, I would have asked you to when I have command.”

“Touch you?” she asked, flexing her fingers again as if longing to explore.

“I’m yours to command, Georgia. What do you want now?”

He expected her hand to move lower, but she surprised him by saying, “Turn around. I mean, turn your back to me.”

He did so smiling. No, a man would never be bored by Georgia Maybury. Georgia Dracy one day soon if there was any way to make it so. She touched him on his nape; then a fingernail traced down his spine, sending a shudder through him.

She stilled. “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

“Then why did you shiver?”

“For the wonder and wickedness of it.”

“Is it wicked, then?” she asked, continuing her gently abrasive exploration. “It doesn’t seem so.”

“Liar.
But it’s pure pleasure, which can never be wrong.”

“I doubt most would agree with you on that.”

He turned. “Do we care about the opinions of lesser mortals?”

She stared at him. “No.”

“Now you’ve seen a naked man. What do you think?”

“That you’re probably a finer specimen than most.”

“Flattery. I like it.”

“Truth. I’ve seen statues, cold and living, and pictures. None rivaled you.”

“Pictures?”

“In books. Are you shocked?”

“No. Touch me again.”

“I’m in command,” she reminded him, teasing now, the minx. “I was shocked. I was trying to find out if we were doing things wrong.”

“Because you didn’t conceive.”

She nodded, looking away. Brave Georgia Maybury had this one pit of sorrow, perhaps even of shame.

He turned her face back to him. “I’d never blame you for not conceiving, Georgia, remember that. But again, we can talk of such things fully clothed and by daylight. What do you want?”

She chuckled. No, it was a giggle, reminding him that though she’d been a wife for years, and even ruled her little world, she was still young and to be cared for.

“Command me,” he said.

“Lie on the bed, then. I want to explore you from that angle.”

’Struth. Young and bold.

“I obey,” he said, but he passed her the perfumed oil. “If you wish, you may use this.”

She took out the stopper and inhaled. “It’s the perfume you put on that book, trying to cheat.”

“Cheat?”

“So you’d detect me at the masquerade by smell.”

He
laughed. “I wish I’d been so clever. I sent the book so that any hint of that perfume on you would be explained. I used it here for the same reason.”

“I smelled it when I came in. It’s unusual, but I think I like it.”

“It’s for wicked nights, not elegant days.”