Earl of Scandal (London Lords) (11 page)

She closed the few feet between them. “If that worries you, you should have taken me to a proper bedchamber.” She gave him another languid look, then glanced around the room. “But I find this setting perfect. There is the divan... or the floor...” She jiggled her breasts. “Actually, love, I rather fancy having you bend me over a chair.”

His mouth went dry. Although he’d sworn to give up this sort of depraved behavior, his body had apparently not gone along with the notion. His rod was as hard as granite.

What did it matter if he took Diana? he argued with himself. Merissa would never know. An innocent chit like her could not imagine the raw and impersonal lust that Diana inspired. It had nothing to do with the way he felt about his sweet little country miss. In fact, giving in might allow him to better control himself with Merissa, to show her the respect and tenderness she deserved.

Diana gave him another sultry glance before she grabbed the skirt of her dress and with a slow, undulating motion, raised the fabric upwards. She wore nothing underneath. Christian watched, frozen. He could not be sure what he would have done if the door to the library had not opened. He might have walked away. Or he might have undone his pantaloons and given Diana exactly what she wanted.

But the door did open, and when he turned to see who was there, his stomach seemed to drop to the floor. The book room was not well-lit, but the outline of the slender woman in the doorway was instantly recognizable.

Diana appeared unaware of the intruder. Or, perhaps she was even more lewd than he had imagined. Instead of pulling down her gown, she jiggled her bare breasts. “Hurry up, love. I’m growing chilled. I can hardly wait to feel your hot, hard body against mine.”

Time seemed to stand still. Both Christian and Merissa appeared incapable of moving or speaking. The supportability of his position paralyzed his thoughts. How the hell did a man explain away this sort of thing?

Finally, Merissa made a small sound, half-gasp, half-sob, and retreated. As the door slammed closed, Diana complained, “Really, Christian, I’m not going to wait all day.”

~ ~ ~

Merissa ran down the hallway, the terrible scene filling her mind. Christian. The woman standing in front of him, utterly naked. At first, she could not make sense of the situation. She’d even had the absurd thought that Lady Diana had injured herself and Christian was examining her.

Then the woman spoke and the shocking truth finally registered in Merissa’s mind. Christian and Lady Diana were about to make love. In the library. The sheer outrageousness of it took her breath away.

“I know I left my fan somewhere, Archibald. Do be a dear and check in our room.” The woman’s words floated around the corner to Merissa, bringing her to a panicked halt. She could not face anyone now, certainly not one of those haughty, insulting matrons she’d overheard gossiping earlier.

She glanced around frantically, finally spying a staircase set in a recess in the wall. Without further thought, she dashed up it.

The stairway led to another long hallway with a multitude of doors on either side. Merissa guessed that she was in the guest wing where many of the guests from London were staying. If she could only find a vacant bedchamber to hide in. At least for a moment, until her heart stopped pounding and she could think again.

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs forced her to act. She jerked open the nearest door and rushed in. To her relief, the bedchamber was empty, although a fire in the grate and a lit lamp on the nightstand suggested that someone was expected to return.

Merissa barely had a chance to take a breath before the sound of a door opening down the hall reawakened her panic. Servants were probably preparing the bedchambers for the guests, turning down covers and lighting fires. Even though this room appeared to have been tended to already, she did not want to be found here, even by a chambermaid. Looking around, she sought a hiding place.

The canopied bed would never do. If a maid came, turning back the covers would be the first of her duties. But the armoire in the corner appeared too small and the rest of the furniture afforded little protection. Drat! Where was she to hide?

The curtains! The thick, blue damask draperies would conceal her admirably. Merissa started towards the window, but too late. The door opened. “Merissa?” Christian called.

Her insides turned over.

“Please, I want to explain.” He entered and Merissa fought the urge to run to the window and see how far it was to the ground. It seemed better to break her neck than to endure remaining in the same room with him!

“It’s not what you think, Merissa. Nothing happened.”

Merissa took a deep breath, not trusting herself to speak.

“Damn! I know what you saw, how it looks. But believe me, nothing happened.” He sighed. “Diana is known for her scandalous behavior. I’m afraid that this time... she completely lost control. I couldn’t stop her. I’m just sorry that you came in at that moment. Very sorry.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” She turned and faced him, her voice shaking. “You’d been closeted with that... that woman for some time, Long enough to...” She could not say it. She knew no polite term for what Lady Diana had wished Christian to do to her.

“I stayed with her because she has information regarding a... an acquaintance of mine.” Christian stepped towards her. Merissa retreated until her backside was pressed against the side of the bed. The realization of her situation made her breathless with mingled horror and excitement. She was alone in a bedchamber with a man, a man with a scandalous reputation, which she had seen for herself was well-deserved. All he had to do was push her down on the bed and...

“You see, it was blackmail of sorts,” Christian continued, “I kept trying to get her to give me information regarding... a friend. She kept refusing. I should have left. I know that now. But you have to understand... the whole incident was completely one-sided. I never meant to... that is...”

Christian paused. The shock on Merissa’s face made it plain that she comprehended completely.

What should he do? Keep trying to explain—and destroy what shred of affection and respect she might still feel for him?

But he could not help moving closer. He was still aroused, and the sight of Merissa’s heaving bosom and flushed face heightened his ardor. Damn, but he wanted her. Every bit as much as Diana had wanted him.

No,
more
. What Diana experienced was crude, raw passion. What he felt for Melissa was different. He wanted to comfort her. To reassure her and hold her and kiss her...

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered.

“Of course not.” He shook his head obediently. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But you do look spectacular in that gown. It perfectly sets off your skin. Your hair...”

“I won’t listen to any of your lying flattery!”

“It’s not a lie. To me, you are much more beautiful than Lady Diana. You have something special... an innocence...”

“Which you would like to sully,” she said vehemently.

He shook his head. “Never. It’s different with you. Somehow. Although I want you as badly as I have ever wanted any woman, it isn’t the same.”

“Don’t speak so!” Her voice broke.

“Why not?” He felt a passion, a sincerity that he had never known before. This was not an idle, amusing affair. This was real. The knowledge stunned him.

Without thinking, he reached out for her. She gave a gasp, and then allowed him to take her hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it tenderly. He could not stop there. He trailed kisses upwards, along the smooth, lightly freckled skin of her arm. When he reached her lace bodice, he lost all restraint and clutched her to his face, cascading kisses over her shoulders and neck.

She arched backwards, moaning, and her pert breasts thrust against the lacy fabric of her bodice. Enflamed, he wet the lace with his tongue and sucked at the skin beneath. She gasped again. A helpless, lost sound.

As he was. Lost in the intoxication of her.

He kissed his way between her breasts, tasting. Then he found one of her nipples, jutting hard against the thin fabric. He drew it deep into his mouth. The rest of her body trembled as he mouthed her firm, ripe flesh.

He pursued her other nipple. And found it every bit as delicious and melting.

She arched her back further and muttered soft little sounds as he sampled paradise.

In some cold part of his mind, he knew that if he lifted her onto the bed, raised her skirts and mounted her, she would not protest. But her very sweetness, her fragile desire held him at bay. He would not casually use a gentle virgin.

Instead, he forced himself to draw back and look at her. Her parted lips appeared deep pink and swollen. Her spectacles hung slightly askew. He removed them and threw them to the other side of the bed, then feasted his gaze on the perfect oval of her face. The starlight-blue eyes, with the silky crescents of dark lashes half veiling them. The pert nose. The delicate mist of freckles against her alabaster skin.

She was as fresh and lovely as springtime. A radiant bloom waiting to be picked. If not by him then by some other man. But another man might never appreciate the extraordinary gift he received.

Or, she might remain untouched, untasted forever. Her beauty fade, her luster dimmed by time and neglect.

Such a loss. He could weep for it.

His throat felt tight as he leaned down and kissed her. Her eyelids. Her forehead. The corners of her mouth. Her dainty chin.

He was weak with wanting her. The feel of her body against his. As supple as a reed. As fine and graceful as a flower swaying in the breeze.

Her breasts. Such provocative, sensual fruit. He glanced down at them. Her bodice was still wet from his mouth. Her areolas rose out like dark full moons against the gauzy lace. A shudder of hunger went through him and he kissed her again, hard on the mouth.

Desire flowed through him, unrestrained and wild. He sought to check it. But the feel of her tentative tongue against his ignited madness. He clutched her more tightly and moved his hands down to cup her curvaceous bottom. The feel of her hips pressed against his thighs did nothing to aid his faltering resolve.

“My God, Merissa,” he groaned.

“Christian,” she murmured between tongue kisses. “Christian.”

They were lost. He was not a man used to resisting temptation, and he’d never, ever wanted a woman like this before. The way he felt about her transformed him. He wanted to give her pleasure, to make things wonderful for her. As she had for him.

She had changed his boring, tiresome world into something fresh and full of promise.

How did he possess that essence of her... and yet not destroy it?

She was restless with wanting now. Writhing in his arms. Her breathing came in fevered whimpers.

He soothed her with soft kisses and tried to hold his own need in control. In the end, it was the skill and detachment of years of seducing women that told him what to do.

He gently slid her onto the embroidered blue satin coverlet. She tried to rise, but he shook his head. “Merissa, I won’t hurt you,” he promised. “I’ll only give you pleasure.”

She moaned insensibly and lay back. With trembling hands he found the skirt of her gown and began to ease it upward, exposing her slim ankles, then the pale, smooth flesh above her stockings. He swallowed hard as he reached her muslin pantalettes. He raised her skirts to her waist and stared. The dark hair of her womanhood showed faintly against the thin fabric.

With a deep breath and a savage, silent renewal of his self-control, he leaned over her, grasped her lithe thighs, and urged them apart. He brought his mouth down upon the shadow between her thighs and tasted the fragrant warmth. She cried out, and he brought his hands to her hips to hold her in place.

Delicately, he used his tongue and mouth to wet the tender flesh hidden beneath the muslin, seeking out each petal-like fold and caressing it. She cried out and tensed her thighs. With a firm hand, he pushed her legs further apart.

As the undergarment grew almost transparent, he found the subtle core of her and pushed his tongue against it. She moaned and jerked beneath his hands.

She was so innocent, so sweet. He felt a momentary pang of relief that he had decided against taking her maidenhead. No need to hurt her like that.

He mouthed and tasted. First, inflaming her with need, then using his tongue to satisfy it. He felt her near her peak, and used one last trick to send her over the edge. Gently, he moved his mouth to the top of her cleft, searching for the innermost jewel of her desire.

He found it with his tongue and nibbled with his lips. She gave a tumultuous cry and shuddered. He felt the wetness and tremors of her climax against his mouth. A profound, satisfied feeling went through him.

With a sense of awe, he drew back. Her exquisite dishevelment seemed almost more than he could bear. Her dazed, tranquil face. Shapely legs, still encased in dainty silk stockings and garters, outspread to reveal her feminine mystery. He longed to tear off the filmy undergarment so he could truly touch and fondle her. Fill his hands with her velvet soft flesh and drench his fingers with her slick, warm dew.

But he dare not. His tenuous control would snap like a twig and he would be inside her, rending her maidenhead and ravaging her innocence.

With clenched jaw, he drew himself away and stood by the side of the bed.

“Christian,” she called.

He did not move.

She sat up and smoothed her skirts down, still breathing unevenly.

He turned toward her, finally trusting himself again. “Merissa,” he said helplessly. “I did not really mean to do that.”

Her eyes shimmered with sudden tears.

“No,” he said. “Don’t cry.” He drew her into his arms, holding her close. “It’s all right. You’re not ruined. I will fix it somehow... with the Northrups... and the other guests.”

He kissed her softly on the cheek, thinking frantically. They’d been gone too long. By now, Diana had returned to the party. If she had even an inkling that he had been with another woman, she would waste no time in spreading malicious stories. Merissa’s reputation would be destroyed, and all his careful forbearance wouldn’t matter a bit.