Sexual Hunger (16 page)

M
aria rolled over, aware she was dreaming…drifting between wakefulness and not wanting the dream to end. She saw
eyes
. Eyes peering from beneath a pirate’s bandanna, as though a man—was it Jason?—watched her from the window.

She hugged her pillow. It wasn’t nearly time to get up, yet a tingling at the back of her neck suggested she was being watched. Her body tightened even as she tried not to move—just in case this sensation was
not
a dream! If the interloper thought she was awake, he might take advantage of her…might slip into her room and out of his clothes and then beneath the sheet she clung to…to discover she was naked. Waiting.

No,
longing.

But for whom?

As the question floated like a cloud across her mind, Maria again tried to determine whom she saw beneath that rakish bandanna: the logical choice was Jason, since he so loved to don a pirate’s props. Yet this man felt different. More predatory, because he was hiding his body from her mental view. And despite the warning bells that jangled her nerves as she lay absolutely still in the semidarkness, she wished the streetlight would illuminate his face rather than the shadowy furnishings of her room.

Maria! Come to me! I need you, my love!

She wanted that to be Jason’s voice, yet this summons sounded out of rhythm and rhyme with the way he spoke to her. Did she dare answer back, even in the silence of her dream? She inhaled slowly, wavering again between wakefulness and falling more deeply into the dream.

I know you’re awake, lovely lady. And I know you wait for me…naked and ravenous.

She swallowed. Her limbs stiffened from holding so still. But worse, she began to pulse lightly, all over her body—gooseflesh popping up—and felt a teasing tension between her legs. Exhaling between the sheets, Maria searched her mental image of the man again. His eyes danced with knowing she was aware of him, and he raised up enough that she could see his entire face: the squared jaw, made softer by a rough mustache and whiskered grin; the lean contour of his profile as he smiled at her.

I need you as badly as you need me, Maria. Open yourself! Let me in!

She nearly spasmed: what was it about this voice that made her do his bidding? He sounded so familiar, but how did he know she’d worn nothing to bed? Did he also know how the sheets teased at her skin? How the sound of her breathing belied her rising excitement? This was shameless—mindless—yet as her nipples rasped against the linens, Maria ached for the man who spoke so mysteriously, so intimately, to her. Was he casting a spell, or was she attracting his attentions somehow? Unwittingly inviting him to take control?

You’re wet. I can smell your desire—your need, Maria.

A whimper escaped her. Damn him, why didn’t he reveal himself?

You don’t need to know who I am. But if it makes my presence more…permissable, then I can be whomever you choose
, the low baritone continued.
But do choose, and soon, milady. Don’t keep me waiting!

How had her hand slipped between her knees? If this intruder knew she was nude, he knew what she was about to do to herself—

Oh yes, and I intend to watch. And then take my turn
.

Maria twitched. Closed her eyes tighter, and gave in. As her fingers found her downy mound and then ventured into the slick crevice beneath it, she sighed into her pillow. The pirate—he was Jason, and yet he wasn’t—stood behind her now, watching as the bedclothes shifted and whispered in the dimness. His pants hit the floor. He fumbled with his shirt buttons.

Randy little witch. I’ve got so much more for you than a slender finger. Here—

He curled his body around hers, lifted her upper leg, and entered her with a deep thrust. Her moan filled the room as he filled her, with a cock so long and thick she felt stretched to the limit. Yet deeper he plunged with each thrust, relentlessly claiming her as his own without her encouragement or permission. He wrapped his arms around her, held her captive and continued to seek his pleasure.

Maria…Maria…

“Yes,” she murmured, appalled that she’d given herself to this unknown lover so freely, yet amazed at how he instinctively knew her body’s wishes. Her hips writhed and the bed creaked in time with his thrusting, until the spark he’d ignited suddenly flared. Maria cried out, needing to thrash yet unable to break free from her imaginary lover’s possessive arms. He bucked against her back, squeezing her tighter as his cock dove into her wet depths.

With a final gasp, he convulsed, taking her with him. A torrent of warmth filled her, and even as she feared he’d already gotten her with child, her body refused to release him. Maria curled inward and then thrust back against him in a final, wild implosion that drove her over the edge of a mindless chasm.

Again she drifted, not wanting the dream to end—for in a dream she could have Jason, or any man she wanted, whenever she needed release. As her body relaxed, her breathing took on the same rhythm as his. “Please,” she pleaded, “you must tell me who you—”

“It’s Quentin, milady. You’re to meet Lady Darington and Jemma at the dressmaker’s today, remember?”

Maria’s eyes flew open as she clutched the coverlet around her body. The butler who leaned over her bed, wearing a furtive grin, was very real indeed. What had he seen? Or heard? Had Quentin tricked his way into her dream by donning Jason’s pirate bandanna and eye patch from her nightstand drawer?

His expression said he knew exactly what she’d been doing. And he’d probably watched most of it.

“What are
you
—this is outrageous!” she wheezed. “Why isn’t Mrs. Booth waking me—”

The butler’s eyes remained fixed on hers. “She’s indisposed.”

And what on earth did
that
mean? Maria blinked away the remnants of her dream, yet her body still tingled in the most intimate places. Yes, she was wet. And the liquid oozing from between her legs felt like more than her own, as though a real lover had shot his seed.

“I thought it best to be sure you were awake, milady,” the butler repeated. His gaze wandered along the curve of her hip. “You were having a rather…spectacular dream. Probably not something you’d want to explain to Mrs. Booth.”

Her cheeks prickled with heat. The brazen bastard knew damn well what she’d been doing, yet he showed no sign of leaving so she could get out of bed. “Perhaps you’re recalling what you and Jemma did yesterday,” she countered. “I
saw
the way you kissed her in the garden at Wildwood—”

“Then you also know Jemma sprang at
me
, and not the other way around.” His tone sounded defensive, but then he relaxed. “And yes, I got what I was hoping for. Thank you for allowing me to escort you yesterday, milady. If I may be of assistance—”

“You may
leave
now, Quentin,” she insisted. “There’ll be hell to pay if I keep Lady Darington waiting at LeChaud Soeurs. And I do
not
require your help getting dressed, thank you. If Jason finds out you’ve been coming to my room—”

The butler smiled knowingly, bowed, and then took his leave.

Maria scratched her head. What was real, and what had happened only in her dream? The man in the pirate garb still toyed with her senses: the musk in her bed was a blatant reminder of how she’d spent the last several minutes. If only she knew with
whom.

“Jason, you’ve got to come home,” she muttered as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “Or you must at least send word. I’m losing my mind without you—not to mention all rational control of my body.”

She listened. But her lover didn’t reply.

“This gown looks so lovely, Miss Palladino. Perfect with your dark hair and dusky coloring.” Camille LeChaud Bentley smiled as she smoothed the shoulder seam and then clipped a stray thread. “Thank you for requesting a design that defies the current mode. I so love a challenge, and together we’ve met it!”

As Maria gazed at her reflection in the shop’s large cheval mirror, she felt fully alive for the first time since her wedding day. The aquamarine brocade shimmered seductively where it dipped into the crevice between her breasts, leaving her shoulders and upper back exposed before draping suggestively over her hips. Gone were the bustles and layers of lace that had once covered a woman’s attributes: this gown revealed her best features and played up the colors of the butterfly pendant that rested at her collarbone.

And while she sensed Lady Darington’s envy, and Jemma’s irritation because
she
had not been singled out for the designer’s praise, Maria refused to let these women irritate her today. Perhaps her morning’s sexual satisfaction had invigorated her, or at least made her feel Jason’s presence in a fleeting way. “Thank you, Camille. You’ve done a wonderful job, as always—”

“Yes, and we’re so happy to
provide
such finery for Maria,” Dora cut in, “even though the man she was to have danced with Saturday can’t be present.”

Maria sighed. Would these Darington women never let her forget she was beholden to them? “Yes, I’m grateful to you as well,” she murmured. “You’ve been most generous, providing me a home and the means to enjoy a social life despite my…predicament.”

“And such a shame that is, too!” Colette Bentley looked up from her ledger to smile compassionately at Maria. “Has there been no word at all, then? No response to Lord Darington’s telegrams?”

“Nothing,” Dora replied with a pathetic sniff. “It’s as though the heir to the family name and estates sailed off the edge of the earth, to disappear without a trace.”

“I’m so sorry, milady. Please accept our prayers for your son’s return.” Camille stood beside her twin, remarkably pretty in her advanced state of pregnancy. “I can’t imagine surviving from one day to the next without my Heath.”

“Nor I without Hadrian,” Colette added, rubbing her extended belly. She fingered Maria’s jeweled butterfly. “I hear our Aunt Meriweather has not enjoyed the same sort of luck in love, however. When she discovered some of her jewelry missing, she sent that charlatan Polinsky packing!”

“Oh
really!
” Jemma blurted. She turned at the mirror, admiring the way her new sky blue gown displayed her waist and hips to such advantage. “
That
tidbit should set her hen friends to cackling!”

“Jemma! We mustn’t mock those who become the victims of trickery.” As Lady Darington joined her daughter before the mirror, her preening took on a studied intensity: the scarlet gown was striped with black, symbolically declaring dismay over her missing son while dramatically displaying her sleek features.

“Indeed,” Camille remarked sadly. “The poor dear was
so
happy to have a man in her life again. This whiff of scandal sets her off as a gullible old fool.”

“Let’s hope it serves as a warning to her friends,” Maria remarked. “Everyone who meets Mr. Polinsky seems to fall under his spell.”

“He recently conducted a séance at Esther Grumbaugh’s home. And I hear Martha MacPherson has requested a personal consultation as well.” Camille stepped behind Lady Darington for a final inspection of her gown. “Perhaps you’ll hear more at the Galsworthy ball this weekend. By then Colette and I will be remaining at home, as our time draws near. You must keep us informed!”

Was it her imagination or had Dora held her breath during these revelations? Maria noted a rise in her color and a feline shine in her eyes…a turning of her head to hide a sly smile. “Oh, indeed we shall,” Lady Darington replied. “Just as we shall spread the word about keeping one’s jewelry—not to mention one’s reputation—safely locked away. Desperation is such a despicable state. It drives us to do things, or to leave things undone, hoping to attract what we need in a…dark moment.”

And what did Jason’s mother mean by
that?
The creak in the floorboard above them reminded her that her brother lived in the apartment overhead, and Maria had the urge to discuss these newsworthy items about Polinksy with him. It would look too obvious, however, if she went upstairs while Jemma and her mother were present.

“Perhaps you should entrust your jewels to
me
then, Mumsy.” Jemma flashed her mother a wicked little grin. “Mr. Polinsky never spares me so much as a glance, so I could flaunt your finery without any danger of him—”

“That’s quite enough out of you for one day!” Dora turned, a signal to the Bentley twins that the fitting was finished. “You shall have my gems in good time, when I’ve no further use for them. And meanwhile, you must earn your own! Like the rest of us!”

“H
ere we are once again, arriving as each other’s escorts,” Maria said with a sigh. Even the sight of the magnificent Galsworthy home, with lights in every window and music drifting on the breeze, failed to raise her spirits. “You could’ve enjoyed this ball with someone more romantic—”

“How can you say that?” Rubio hugged her shoulders as he gazed at her. “You’ll be the belle of the ball, and I’m pleased to be seen with one so lovely! I only wish Jason could be here to enjoy it with you.”

“You could’ve come with—”

“But I didn’t
want
to! Truth be told, I’m using you as a social shield,” he confessed quietly. “A few of my clients have become…suggestive, of late. Insisting I have as much appeal and charisma as Yosef Polinksy—”

“Oh, you’re
far
more appealing than he!”

“—so by doing the honorable thing, bringing you tonight, I’m also avoiding amorous, assertive ladies who might become…more trouble than they’re worth.” When her brother smiled, the ring in his nose winked at her. “Please don’t take offense, Maria.”

“How could I? You’ve always taken such good care of me, Rubio.” Why was it that as she watched other guests in their finery, laughing as they entered Lord Galsworthy’s home, she felt inexplicably sad? Not even her unique gown of palest aquamarine made her smile—not even when she caught the admiring glances of those walking by. “And here comes Jude, with the illustrious Miss Remington. What must Sarah be? At least ten years older than he! Gathering dust on the shelf because she refused so many eligible suitors, back when—”

“Shall I fetch you a saucer of milk, kitty? He’s putting on a respectable show, same as we are.” Rubio waved to the couple, so Maria did, too.

But her heart wasn’t in it: had an evil spirit snatched it away and left a lump of coal in its place? Of
course
Jude had brought someone else! With his twin missing, all eyes were on the heir-in-waiting—and on
her
, the bride left unwed. So discretion was best.

Wasn’t it?

Jude was such a caring, considerate lover…

Her brother’s hand tightened on her bare shoulder. “You have reason to feel downhearted this evening, you know. A month ago today we were at the church, awaiting your Jason.”

“A month? Some days it feels like a year.”

“Change is in the air. Major change,” the medium murmured as he steered her forward again. “While I’m not receiving any direct messages from Jason, my guides—and my instincts—inform me the sun’s about to break through the clouds of your despair—”

Maria’s eyebrows rose.

“—but this revelation will set another crisis into motion. Something involving…the Darington family.”

“Doesn’t everything? If no crisis presents itself, Jemma and Dora create one.” She put on a smile as they reached the main doors, where the evening’s guests waited to be welcomed. It was a fine summer night, balmy with a light breeze that whispered in the manicured hedges. Maria recalled other balls last year, on Jason’s arm, when she’d felt like dancing before the orchestra began to play. Yet Rubio had just hit upon something, hadn’t he?

“I—I had a strange dream a few nights ago, and every night since,” she murmured so no one else could hear. “It always involves a pirate—a lover coming to my bed. I want to believe it’s Jason…yet in so many ways, it’s not.”

Rubio’s eyes shone like hot coffee. “What does this pirate say? Or do?”

Maria focused on Lady Galsworthy when their hostess clasped her hands in greeting. “How lovely you look this evening!” she cooed. “That shade of blue accentuates your eyes.”

Once a sought-after beauty, Rowena batted her thin lashes. “I’ve resurrected this poor old thing yet again,” she said with a whimper in her voice. “Reginald claims it’s his favorite, but he’s so tight he squeaks when he walks. He’ll like the looks of
you
, though, Maria! No word of Jason, I assume.”

“No reply from Lord Darington’s partners on the American coast, nor any clue to his whereabouts.” She held her smile steady, as it would be her best ally tonight. Again.

“Except, of course, what Mr. Polinsky and your brother share with us from their spirit realms.” When Rowena gazed knowingly at Rubio, Maria got the distinct impression she might be one of those potentially troublesome clients he’d mentioned.

Her brother bowed over her wrinkled hand to kiss one of her rings. “I’m confident Jason will turn up,” he declared, loudly enough that guests turned their heads to listen. “I predict he is not only alive but…thriving. The Darington heir was never one to shrink like a violet or bemoan whatever hand Fate has dealt him. And he has Maria waiting for him! What more could any man want?”

Maria caught Jude’s gaze from the ballroom doorway, where he stood with Sarah Remington’s hand tucked in his elbow. When she held his attention to share the hope Rubio’s prediction kindled, he winked at her behind Sarah’s back.

“Well,
some
men want to ingratiate themselves with well-heeled women,” their hostess continued in a quivering voice. “And they’re coming up short when they open their jewelry boxes—which is why I’m
so
relieved the man in question declined our invitation! And so pleased
you
are here, Mr. Palladino.” Rowena fluttered like a fan as she gazed up into Rubio’s eyes.

“Rowe! For God’s sake, the guests are lined up outside!” Lord Galsworthy called from the top of the stairs. “Save your stargazing for when Palladino can earn a little something from your nattering!”

Their hostess withered. “So lovely to see you,” she murmured before smiling at the couple behind them.

Rubio guided Maria upstairs then, so they could exchange pleasantries as the small orchestra on the dais tuned their instruments. Maria recognized most of those who socialized in this circle: she’d written of their soirees in her column…which seemed her best survival tactic for an evening of questions that had no answers. An evening when the man she wanted to dance with was nowhere to be found.

As always, she made a mental note of the colors and fabrics the ladies wore, not to mention which gentlemen circulated the ballroom with their wives at the evening’s beginning and which ones slipped away—and with whom—during the course of the ball. Was it no coincidence that the wives who never wore the same gowns twice, who regally displayed their stunning gemstones, were married to the sly foxes who provided the same gifts for secret lovers?

She considered this as she chatted with peacocks of an echelon she might never attain. As Jason Darington’s wife, she would eventually find acceptance among most of these couples—although it would take a grandchild or two to convince Dora she had much worth. But now, as an unattached female, Maria felt like a loose end waiting to be tied.

“…and they say he lasted only two days at Esther’s, before she caught him rifling through her bedroom safe!”

“No! Is he that intelligent? Or does his spirit guide tell him the combinations to locks, too?”

Girlish laughter rose above the strains of a Strauss waltz as Maria eavesdropped on the conversation behind her, at the punch bowl. Helena Farquar strolled up to make it a trio of twittering birds. “No doubt he’ll be heading out on the proverbial rail, tarred and feathered, if he continues such blatant behavior!” she chirped. “Why, I hear he had the most
revolting
calling cards printed! With a picture of his—his—”

“Why, Helena, I’ve never seen
you
blush, dear!”

“And he was wearing a jeweled ring on it! Can you
imagine
?” Helena finished breathlessly.

“I’d have to see it to believe it. But for all we know, he made up his name to go with that bulge in his trousers. Pole-insky.”

Maria nearly spewed punch as the ladies laughed aloud. This newest voice in the mix belonged to none other than Dora Darington…the Pandora so fond of letting secrets out of the box. The woman Yosef Polinsky singled out of a crowd with his penetrating eyes.

Dora’s younger son waltzed by then, and as he guided Miss Remington in a tight turn he gazed directly at
her
. Had Jude taken the photograph his mother and her friends were gossiping about? It seemed the epitome of arrogance for a man to want a likeness of his cock, but what did it say about Jude for making it? He couldn’t have just stumbled across Polinsky while his pants were down…with his camera at the right height…

“And what might
you
be contemplating, Maria? That’s the wickedest grin I’ve ever seen, young lady!”

Maria gripped her punch cup to keep from dropping it. Phillip, Lord Darington, stood before her, expecting an answer—although she sensed a rare glint of amusement in those direct gray eyes. But how could she reply that his wife had been discussing another man’s
pole?
The ladies behind her moved away from the table, no doubt because Darington’s daunting height and disposition tended to quell any merriment. “I—you must excuse me for overhearing some gossip, milord,” she stammered. “It’s hard to avoid at gatherings like these.”

A grin flickered across his face, gone almost as soon as she saw it. While Jason’s father had always been cordial—and he
had
allowed her to remain in the town house indefinitely—she had often wondered how his sons had turned out so…easy to get along with. So accommodating and compassionate. She straightened under Darington’s scrutiny, uncertain whether his lingering gaze meant he liked her new gown, or he was lost in his own thoughts and no longer really saw her.

“Had I met you thirty years ago, my life would be drastically different,” he murmured.

What a startling remark! Had she heard it correctly? Maria’s mouth opened but she didn’t dare remind him that thirty years ago, she hadn’t been born. No, a man whose gaze smoldered, tinged with such aloof arrogance, wasn’t thinking about age.

He’s hiding behind his arrogance. With a wife like Pandora—

“Will you dance with me, Maria?” he asked with another of those lightning-strike smiles. “Damn shame that the most fetching woman in the room has nothing better to distract her than catty tongues.”

When he extended his hand, she set her cup on the table and followed Lord Darington to the dance floor. The orchestra struck up Beethoven’s “Minuet in G,” and he smiled defiantly. “May I have the honor of a
waltz
?” he insisted. “Much more suited to enjoying the way that gown becomes you, Miss Palladino.”

“Thank you, milord. I—yes, I much prefer the waltz myself.” Why was he paying her such close attention? Was it pity, because her man was absent?

Not likely. Lord Darington felt sorry for no one.

Was he
interested
in her, then? In a way she’d not considered before…a way he’d not shown even at home, those times she’d been in his company with Jason? As he swung her easily into the three-quarter rhythm, Maria felt the gazes from around the Galsworthys’ ballroom: while the other dancers followed the pattern of honors and step formations for the minuet, she and her not-quite father-in-law blithely twirled face-to-face.

And Phillip Darington looked as delighted as she’d ever seen him. The lines around his eyes and mouth relaxed as he ignored whatever disapproval or speculation this waltz might provoke. “Mrs. Booth tells me your bridal portrait now graces the hall,” he said in a voice that reverberated beneath the music. “I shall come and admire it soon.”

She took the opportunity he’d just supplied. “You knew Jude made that likeness before the wedding, didn’t you? He’s an avid—and very able—photographer.”

“Yes, he is. But it’s the subject that leaves one unable to look away—or to catch his breath.”

This was getting awkward! Maria concentrated on the succession of twirls he led her through, almost as though he didn’t want her to
think
too much about what he said of his sons. “You flatter me, Lord—”

“No, my dear, for once I’m enjoying a topic of conversation that brings me great pleasure.” He pulled her closer to execute the next steps, which swayed forward and back before he again led her into a trio of turns. “I haven’t danced like this in years. Thank you for indulging me, Maria.”

“You’re welcome, milord. I—”

“Lord Darington! Phillip, Lord Darington, where are you, sir?”

All turned at the urgent tone of the Galsworthys’ butler as he searched the crowd. “Far side of the orchestra!” someone called out. “Dancing with Miss Palladino, he is!”

Maria’s partner stood taller, pulling her protectively against his body. The music came to a disjointed halt as each musician followed this development. The ballroom became silent.

“Begging your pardon, milord,” Cleaver puffed as he trotted toward them. “The courier insisted this message was of utmost importance! A telegram, it is!”

Phillip smiled apologetically at her. As he accepted the envelope he glanced impatiently about the room. “No need to stop the party on
my
account!” he announced. “Has my family not endured enough speculation, without you following my every raised eyebrow? Play on, I say!”

The guests looked quizzically at each other as the lead violinist flipped his music to another song. When Phillip Darington placed his hand on her back to guide her off the dance floor, Maria felt the thrum of his anticipation—along with the steely reserve that made him
wait
until dancers moved around the floor again and the other guests pretended not to watch him so closely.

“I’ll leave you to your reading,” Maria suggested, but his hand tightened on her shoulder.

“If this requires an immediate reply, I shall trust you to help me compose it. I left my spectacles at home.”

Nodding, Maria remained beside him. Who knew the all-powerful Lord Darington required assistance for his correspondence? But then, his valet would’ve assisted him had this missive been delivered to Wildwood. Only bit players, writing under assumed names, penned their own messages.

“Damn it to hell, could that telegrapher have written a more contrary hand?” he muttered, thrusting the message in front of her.