A Study In Seduction (22 page)

He turned her around to unfasten her petticoat, letting it fall to the floor. Lydia’s body surged with desire, her nipples tightening painfully against her corset.

“Help me take it off,” she whispered in a husky entreaty, her hands tugging ineffectually at the front. “Oh, please, Alexander, take it off.”

He fumbled with the laces, his big fingers clumsy as he sought to unfasten the expert ties. After a few muttered oaths, he finally yanked at the laces to loosen them, then turned her again to unhook the front.

Lydia moaned, her body vibrating with relief as Alexander tossed the garment aside. He stared at her breasts beneath her chemise, the heavy weight freed from confinement, her nipples pressing against the thin fabric.

A hard shudder racked Lydia’s body when he reached out to fondle her, rubbing his hot palms over her breasts, sliding his fingers into the damp creases below.

She breathed, her chest filling with air, pushing her breasts against Alexander’s adept hands. A restless churning started in the pit of her belly, making her press her legs together with the increasing urge for release.

“I want to see you,” he said. “Now.”

Hands shaking, Lydia grasped her chemise and pulled it over her head, baring her naked torso to his gaze. Alexander groaned at the sight of her, his hands now rough as he pulled her against him and crushed her mouth with his. A frantic urgency lit between them, hot and thick. Lydia rubbed her breasts against Alexander’s chest, gasping as he slid his hands beneath her bottom again and lifted her.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her legs around his waist, the opening of her drawers parting. She fought the urge to squirm and writhe, wanting this delicious torture to go on and on and on until the world fell away beneath exquisite, unending pleasure.

“Alexander. Touch me.
Please
.” She could hardly speak past the cascade of arousal coursing through her body. Every part of her being ached for the touch of his hands, his lips, the slick glide of his skin against hers.

“I knew you’d be this beautiful, this soft. Knew it.” Alexander lowered her to the bed, moving to kiss the slope of her shoulder. He slid his lips across her throat,
flicking his tongue into the damp hollow before moving lower.

Lydia arched at the first sensation of his lips on her sensitive flesh, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. Need streamed through her, a torrent of sensations as if multihued colors had replaced her blood. As Alexander moved to stroke her other breast, his fingers caressing, Lydia closed her eyes against another unexpected sting of tears. She hadn’t known until now, until Alexander, that she was capable of feeling such pleasure.

He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes burning. Lydia’s tongue darted out to lick her dry lips. She parted her legs. Still holding her gaze, Alexander slid his hand down her naked torso to the opening of her drawers.

“Oh.” Her hips bucked upward at the first touch of his long fingers. “Oh, Alexander, yes…”

He lifted the length of his body alongside hers, lowering his head to kiss her. Lydia quivered, shook, vibrated like a viola string as his tongue delved into her mouth and his fingers eased into her.

“Come, Lydia.” Tension thickened the command. “For me. Now.”

She did, surrendering to the unbearable pressure as his thumb rubbed at the pearl of her body. Alexander captured her scream with his mouth. Undiluted rapture swept through her veins as she convulsed beneath his expert manipulations.

Before the pleasure had even abated, Lydia fumbled for the front of Alexander’s trousers, her breathing ragged. “Let me see you.”

Alexander bent to remove his boots, then unfastened his trousers and pushed them off. Another sweet tremor
shook Lydia as she took his shaft in hand, the sleek warmth pulsing against her palm. She imagined all that malleable hardness filling her, stretching her, pressing against her in the most intimate way possible.

Alexander grasped her wrist, his jaw clenching. “Lydia—”

She hurried to unfasten the ties of her drawers and pushed them to the floor. Unashamed of her nakedness, basking in the glow of Alexander’s hot gaze, she opened her thighs and grasped the front of his damp shirt to pull him to her.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered, rubbing her lips across his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, her hands skimming over his chest through the shirt. “Fill me.”

A groan tore from his throat. Standing beside the bed, he adjusted her position to align their bodies. Then he moved between her legs, pushing hard against her, finesse and tenderness lost in the onslaught of consuming need.

Lydia grasped his forearms, rolling her hips upward, choking out a cry when he began to fill her, hot, smooth, and heavy. Alexander stared at the juncture of their union, his gaze scorching as he watched himself disappear into her.

And then he was seated fully, the pulse of his body in rhythm with hers. She expected him to lever himself over her, to press their mouths together in time to that delicious plunging that would drive them both to rapture, but instead he placed his hands on her raised knees and watched her.

A blistering flush swept over Lydia’s already overheated skin. Never had she expected a man to watch her so intently while he thrust into her, to stare at the quiver
of her breasts, the jostle of her body, the roll of her hips. Never had she anticipated that a man would look at her face as if he wanted to witness the renewed arousal tensing her features.

She closed her eyes. Then she put her hands over her face, her nerves stretched to the breaking point, her mind awash in unfathomable sensations. Alexander’s grip tightened on her knees, spreading her farther apart. The sound of flesh against flesh, of rough breathing and broken moans—his and hers—filled Lydia’s ears. She was hot, so hot, sweat dripping down her neck, her breasts, her thighs.

He grasped her wrists again, pulling her hands away from her face, forcing her to look at him. He was close, she knew it, saw it in his hard features, felt it in the tension vibrating from him. And still he surged forward and back, again and again, stroking her and pushing her arousal ever higher.

She broke for the second time, bliss sparking through her veins in a delicious torrent. Alexander pressed his fingers to her sex to draw out every last pulse of pleasure, but as the burst of light began to fade, Lydia remembered.

“Alexander.” Her voice cracked. She had to tell him, should have told him earlier…. Panic began to claw at her insides despite the lingering pleasure. “You can’t…”

With what must have been enormous self-control, he pulled from her before surrendering to his own release. Lydia’s body slackened with both pleasure and relief as she watched him ride out the final spasms. Her heart continued to thump hard, her blood pounding in her ears. Then Alexander collapsed onto the bed beside her, reaching a hand to urge her closer.

Lydia turned to curl into his side, trying to push away
the uncertainty, the tension, the doubts beginning to crawl like insects back into her consciousness.

Alexander’s hand slid over her back, a warm stroking that brought her back to him. She rested her cheek against his chest, closed her eyes, and breathed.

H
e was asleep, and beautiful in his slumber. Lydia’s heart tightened. His dark hair was a stark contrast to the white pillow. His chest moved with deep breaths. And though even in sleep his features remained set, a faint softness eased the angles of his jaw and cheekbones. If she looked at him long enough, she might believe he possessed more than a touch of vulnerability.

Lydia dragged her gaze from Alexander’s face and reached for her chemise. The embers of the fire burned low and red, emitting wisps of smoke and little heat. She pulled on her shift and reached for her corset just as he spoke.

“Lydia.”

His baritone voice rumbled into the cold. She stopped. Apprehension skittered across her skin as she turned to face him. Her breath caught at the sight of his naked body burnished in the pale light. All traces of softness gone from his expression, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his trousers.

Arousal tugged at Lydia as she watched him hitch the trousers over his hips, his muscles shifting as smooth as cream beneath his taut skin. Her fingers tingled with the urge to slide her palms over his shoulders again, to feel the flexing of his body, the tense grace that coiled through every one of his movements.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Back to my room.”

Anger flashed in his eyes as he moved to stoke the fire, jabbing at the smoldering logs as if they had somehow wronged him. Sparks cascaded onto the hearth. He stabbed harder. The wood split beneath the poker.

“You’ll go nowhere until we’ve settled this.” The poker clattered back onto the stand. He paced to the bed and back again, pulling a hand roughly through his disheveled hair. “The risk of an affair is too great. I will not tolerate it.”

The irritation in his tone stung her. “You appeared to
tolerate
it quite well several hours ago.”

He glowered, even as heat flared in his eyes. “No man could resist a woman half undressed as you were.”

Her stomach twisted. She’d known enough to expect this reaction, not that she could blame him. “If you believe it was a mistake—”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Alexander interrupted. “It was inevitable. The minute I saw you, I knew I would have you in my bed.”

The beat of her heart increased, the sound pulsing into her thoughts and masking the admission that she had known the very same thing.

Before she could respond, he crossed the room to her and gripped her wrists in his hands.

“But this stops now,” he said. “I will give you two weeks.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Two weeks,” Alexander repeated. “If at that time you don’t agree to marry me, our relationship is over.”

Her heart thumped. “Is that a threat?”

“It is a fact. I will not risk an affair.”

“Why two weeks, then?” She struggled to infuse her voice with steel. “Why not pose the ultimatum now?”

“Because two weeks gives you time to prepare.”

She stared at him in astonishment. “You think I’m going to agree, don’t you?”

“Of course you’re going to bloody well agree,” Alexander said, a muscle throbbing in his jaw. “You
will
be my wife.”

“I will not.”

Anger and something else—desperation?—split through his expression like lightning. “For God’s sake, I’m heir to an earl, you foolish woman.”

“I am well aware.”

“We’ve weathered scandal, yes, but my fortune alone is considerable.”

“That alone is not reason to marry you.”

“I’ve told you you’ll have plenty of freedom, funds, time. You’ll continue your work, do whatever you want during the day.”

He moved closer, his eyes burning into hers and filled with remembrances of past lusty encounters… and promises of many more. His hot breath brushed her lips.

“And at night,” he said, the words almost a growl, “you will be mine, wholly and utterly. Without reservation.”

Lydia’s arousal heightened, pulsing against her skin, between her legs. Her cheeks darkened with a flush, her
chest rising with increased breaths. “I don’t mean to imply that sounds unacceptable—”

A trace of amusement flashed in his expression. “Of course it’s not unacceptable. It’s a goddamned paradise.”

Hardly a poetic sentiment, and yet a deep happiness flowered in her soul because he believed—he
knew—
a marriage between them would be a thing of glory.

Lydia stared at the beautiful, strong column of his throat, the damp hollow where she had tasted the salt of his skin. She rested a trembling hand against his chest, felt his heart pound against her palm and reverberate through her arm. His fingers closed around her wrist.

All the hopes and dreams and wishes of her life flooded through her—the goals realized, the opportunities missed, the chances taken. The strange combination of happiness and despair that pulsed through her blood.

The deep-seated knowledge that she would change nothing about her life,
nothing
, not even if it meant possessing the freedom to accept his proposal, to embrace all the glorious advantages of being Alexander Hall’s wife.

“If I were ever to marry,” she said, “I would wish for no other husband except you.”

“Then say yes.”

Frustration slammed hard against Alexander when Lydia didn’t respond. He tightened his grip on her wrist until her wince made him realize he was hurting her.

Muttering a curse, he released her and stepped back. He felt her gaze on him. He fought the urge to pace. Instead he picked up the poker again and stabbed at the burning logs. He reined in his anger, knowing it was hardly the most effective way to convince her to accept him.

Lydia sank into a chair beside the fire, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Silence fell between them for what seemed a very long time before she spoke.

“It’s required of you, isn’t it?” she asked. “That you marry well. I can see why the daughter of a baron would have been an excellent match for you.”

Alexander tightened his fist on the poker.

“She was nothing of the sort,” he said. “And you are not the daughter of a baron, but I still—”

“Exactly,” Lydia interrupted.

“What?”

“There are vast differences between your former intended and myself.” She rubbed her hand over the arm of the chair and studied the pattern of the upholstery. “I know nothing about society, Alexander. I’ve not the faintest notion what style of dress is fashionable or how to conduct an afternoon tea.”

“Talia can assist you with that sort of thing, if it’s a concern.”

“But that’s not enough.” She lifted her head to look at him. “I would not be an asset to either you or the earldom. Can you not see that?”

“You’re wrong. You’re well regarded, Lydia, as your father was before you. I learned that shortly after meeting you. Your talent for mathematics is cause for fascination rather than disapproval.” He took a step toward her, willing her to believe in his sincerity. “And you would be an asset to me. Yes, I’ve a duty to marry well, but beyond that we are undeniably compatible. Never have I met a woman like you. A woman with whom I wish to spend my life.”