Jordan, Nicole - Notorious 1 (22 page)

Damien captured her soft, wild sounds with his mouth, sharing her desperation, her ravenous need. When she wrapped her legs around him and lifted herself to match his hard rhythm, he drove into her fiercely. Blinding desire overtook him. When moments later she shattered, rigid and lost, he followed, shuddering and spilling his seed deep within her in a burst of explosive ecstasy, his hoarse groans mingling with her cries as he convulsed against her.

For a long while afterward he lay there, breathing harshly, shock waves still pulsing, his face buried in the sweet fragrance of her hair. Finally, though, he eased his weight from her and rolled onto his back, his skin still sheened with sweat from their wild lovemaking.

Drawing her into the curve of his body, he stared up at the canopy overhead, cursing himself for letting his passion become so uncontrolled. Hell only knew, he had meant to stay away. He understood all too well the danger Vanessa Wyndham presented. He was perilously close to becoming obsessed with her. Yet he could no more have denied his desire than he could have stilled the beating of his heart.

His fingers toyed absently with a curl of her darkly burnished hair. Even after sating himself so fiercely, need for her still ran like flame-warmed brandy through his body.

What the devil was happening to him? He’d had countless women in his admittedly licentious past, but the desire to completely possess one was utterly new to him. He wanted Vanessa Wyndham more than he had ever wanted any woman, and he didn’t know why.

The depth of his desire was new as well. The gut-wrenching, fiery, primitive need was not only in his loins, but in his entire being. When she was near, all he wanted was to lose himself in her, in the feel of her, the taste of her, to drown in the exquisite pleasure of making love to her. To become part of her.

Damien shut his eyes. He very much feared he was succumbing to the fatal affliction he’d always despised in other men.

Despite his best intentions, he was becoming caught in his own seduction.

He was gone when she woke, leaving her with memories of dark passion, spent and rekindled again and again. His ardent desire renewing her inner struggle, Vanessa passed the following days desperately fighting the emotions Damien had unleashed in her.

She thought she would be glad for his absence, yet that was before she persuaded Olivia to accompany her to church the following Sunday morning. Without Damien’s noble consequence to shield her, Vanessa was given a chill reception by the genteel society present.

Apparently she had made an enemy of Lady Foxmoor. The woman spent the entire service whispering behind her prayer book and casting superior glances in Vanessa’s direction. Afterward only a handful of people troubled themselves to make her acquaintance. The rest pointedly ignored her.

She should have expected as much, Vanessa realized— for failing to offer proper deference and humility in her role as lady’s companion, for elevating herself to the level of family member, and for daring even to hold a post in Baron Sinclair’s household where she might work her wiles on him.

Accustomed to scandal from the days of her marriage, Vanessa was more angry on Olivia’s behalf than her own. The girl bore the snubs with trembling grace, hiding her distress well, but she fell into a morose mood as soon as she was seated in the carriage.

When Vanessa tried to draw her out, Olivia responded with despair. “I told you it was hopeless. My life is ruined! My reputation has suffered irreparably.”

Realizing Olivia mistakenly thought the disapproval directed at herself, Vanessa started to explain thatshe was the one their highbrowed neighbors objected to, but the girl had worked herself into a fret and wasn’t listening.

“If my brother were here, they would not have dared look down their arrogant noses at me—which is the height of hypocrisy, considering Damien’s libertine propensities.” Seeing Vanessa’s troubled expression, Olivia added, “I am not a child, nor am I blind. I’m well aware of my brother’s reputation as a rake. My father was even worse, much worse. Why is it,” she demanded bitterly, “that society can forgive a man any number of peccadilloes, but if a female dares a single misstep, she is ruined for life? It isn’t fair!”

Vanessa had often wondered the same thing. But there was no use arguing that in a man’s world, a woman simply had to make the best of her lot—especially since Olivia was in no mood to be consoled, then or later.

That afternoon when Vanessa tried to persuade her to attend her bath, Olivia replied with petulance, “What is the use? Nothing we have tried has made the least difference to my condition. I shall never walk again.”

“You can’t be certain of that,” Vanessa reminded her gently. “It is still far too early to tell if the damage to your spine is permanent. The doctor said it might be months before you could expect to regain any feeling in your limbs.”

“He also said I might never recover. If so, then I can never marry, never have children.”

“Perhaps bearing children would be difficult, but marriage would certainly not be out of the question.”

“You think not?” the angry young woman retorted. “With my reputation so tarnished, I can never make an eligible match.”

Vanessa shook her head. “In that you are mistaken. From what I gather, you are a considerable heiress. Reputation or no, a lady with wealth and rank will always have choices. You can still wed if you wish.”

“What man would want to be tied to a cripple? Your brother would not.” Her mouth trembled, then hardened. “It would serve him right if he were forced to suffer for his cruelty, as I have done. He got off lightly under the circumstances. My brother wanted to kill him, but I made Damien swear he wouldn’t. Lord Rutherford is fortunate to have escaped with his life.”

Vanessa agreed, but she refrained from divulging that Damien had still managed to exact a revenge. Though he hadn’t killed Aubrey, he had ruined him financially at the gaming tables and put his family at risk of destitution.

“If I am to be ostracized for my folly,” Olivia added fiercely, “it is only fitting that knave shares in my misery. At the very least, he should be required to bear me company as long as I remain a cripple.” She nodded grimly as she evidently came to a decision. “Is your brother still in the district?”

“I really don’t know,” Vanessa replied, surprised and wary. “He told me he would remain until he found a way to speak to you, but after your encounter the other day, he might have returned home.”

The girl’s chin rose stubbornly. “If he is still here, I should like you to find him and give him a message, Vanessa, inviting him to call on me here at Rosewood.”

“Olivia

”Vanessa began earnestly. “You can’t imagine Damien would countenance such a thing.”

“Damien doesn’t have to know. Lord Rutherford can come in disguise, and if you are there to act as chaperon, his presence will raise no alarm among the servants.”

“Still

would it be wise? Revenge is never as satisfying as it is made out to be. Seeing Aubrey again will only prove a torment to you.”

“Perhaps so, but if he is telling the truth, it will prove a greater torment tohim . If he truly feels remorse as he claims, then he can wallow in his guilt. Seeing me in that hateful chair should remind him of the consequence of his heartlessness.”

“Olivia

”

“Please, Vanessa, do not try to change my mind. If you won’t summon him for me, then I shall drive into the village in search of him myself, and then the fat will really be in the fire!”

As the curtain rose, a chorus of appreciative masculine applause greeted the tableau upon the stage. Lounging in a chair amid the audience, Damien plucked at the ruffle of his sleeve to hide his boredom.

Clune had arranged an entertainment for the benefit of his guests, all male. On stage, three nubile beauties engaged in a writhing dance upon a huge bed, their naked bodies undulating, their limbs contorting in fanciful positions, while a half-dozen other lovelies posed in diaphanous costumes that left nothing to the imagination. Their lips and nipples and feminine clefts were rouged to make them appear more luscious and inviting, but Damien remained strangely unaroused.

Once such delights would have cured him, at least temporarily, of his ennui. In years past he had enjoyed Clune’s house parties; indeed, he’d often led the revelry. Yet he had attended this affair for one reason only. To escape Vanessa Wyndham.

It was said the best way for a man to banish a particular woman from his thoughts was to lose himself in the pouting lips and welcoming thighs of another.

Damien narrowed his gaze, trying to banish the memory of that last night with Vanessa

the dark luster of her eyes as she took him to heaven and back.

What the devil was wrong with him?

Always before, whenever he felt dissatisfied with his life, he had sought out some fresh diversion or excitement, some new lover who could satisfy his sophisticated tastes. His wild pursuit of sexual gratification in the glittering ballrooms and bedrooms of Europe was calculated to provide relief from his restlessness.

He’d never had difficulty finding willing partners. He had discovered that most women, be they noble or common, married or sweetly virginal, were his for the taking. Sex was a fine art to him. He never allowed his emotions to become involved.

Except with Vanessa.

He tensed, still feeling the thrust of her soft hips against his loins. Making love to her that last time had been unique, shattering. Never before had he been so lost in a woman

God’s blood, his infatuation had gone on long enough. But how the hell was he going to end it?

A shout of ribald male laughter brought him back to the present, making him conscious of the lewd entertainment before him. The profound, familiar restlessness seized Damien, and his mouth turned down in distaste.

Perhaps he was as dissipated and jaded as Vanessa thought him. By choice he was a devoted pleasure seeker, not an unusual pastime for an idle, rich nobleman. Admittedly, he was a profligate man. But these prurient amusements were becoming less and less appealing.

His dissatisfaction must have shown on his face, for a moment later his host, Jeremy North, Lord Clune, sat down beside him.

“You don’t appear to be enjoying the entertainment, my friend.”

“On the contrary,” Damien lied. “I’m fascinated by the slender redhead with the beauty mark on her thigh.”

Clune’s mouth curved in amusement. “You show excellent taste, as usual. She is imported from France—the daughter of an aristocrat fallen on hard times during their hideous revolution. Speaks only a few words of English, but her talents are amazing.”

Damien feigned a smile. “High praise, coming from a man dedicated to debauchery.”

“Indeed. What is this I hear about the new beauty you have in your keeping?” Clune asked.

“Beauty?”

“A widow, I’m given to understand. Rumor is that you’ve actually ensconced her at your own estate. A bold move, even for you. Do you mean to share her with your friends, or will you selfishly keep her all to yourself?”

Damien exhaled a slow breath, troubled by the mistaken conjecture that Vanessa was in the same category as his usual mistresses. Just as troubling was the shaft of fierce jealousy he felt at the thought of sharing Vanessa with other men. Jealousy was a foreign notion to him—or it had been, until her.

“I fear your assumption is off the mark, Chine,” he said casually. “The lady is employed as my sister’s chaperon, nothing more.”

Clune looked somewhat skeptical but didn’t challenge the lie. Instead he lifted a hand and beckoned to the red-haired dancer upon the stage.

Damien surveyed her as she floated down the stairs to stand before him. Her eyes were huge but glazed. No doubt she was drugged with an opiate to make her task of welcoming the wicked perversions of a dozen gentlemen more palatable.

Damien frowned, realizing she was younger than he had first assumed. “Have you sunk to robbing the cradle, Jeremy?” he queried with a raised eyebrow.

His friend shrugged. “She is eighteen, or so she says. I’m not taking unfair advantage, I assure you. She is being well paid for her efforts, enough to keep her in comfort for a year. And if I hadn’t found her, someone else would have.”

Eighteen was his own sister’s age, Damien realized grimly as the girl settled on his lap with a dreamlike smile.

When she parted the diaphanous robe and lifted her peaked nipples to his mouth, his host politely rose. “I shall leave you to your pleasures then.”

The beauty rubbed the taut buds teasingly against Damien’s mouth. She tasted sweetly of wine, yet rather than becoming aroused, he had to steel himself against a strange and sudden aversion.

Instead of showing his distaste, though, or denouncing Clune for being a less than satisfactory host, Damien came to an abrupt decision and lifted the girl in his arms. Leaving the entertainment behind, he carried her upstairs to his bedchamber.

She was half-asleep even before he laid her on the bed, yet she roused herself to give him a confused look when he covered her near nakedness with a quilt and stepped back.

His Hellfire colleagues would be astounded to see him rejecting such beauty, but he had discovered new limits to his debauchery. He couldn’t take advantage of this girl. Instead, when he left, he would send her to London and order his secretary to see what could be done to find her a different sort of employment.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Damien murmured, keenly aware of the irony of his action: Lord Sin made an unlikely savior of feminine virtue.

He turned away, realizing another unsavory truth. Before his sister’s accident, he would never have been so concerned with the fate of a young girl.

The afternoon air smelled of summer roses but was fraught with tension. With grave misgivings Vanessa watched her brother’s approach along the garden path. She felt like the veriest traitor. She had agreed to act as chaperon for Olivia, yet she wondered if she was making a grievous mistake.

From the bottom of her heart she wanted only what was best for the girl. But even revenge, however ugly its beginnings, might not be such a bad thing if it gave Olivia a purpose in life, if it made her keep fighting rather than giving up in despair.