Sweet Treason (Entangled Ignite) (11 page)

Ryan accepted her invitation with a low growl, nibbling a path across her cheek to her ear, where he whispered, “Bloody hell, Emmy. Another kiss like that and you’ll be fortunate to be home by dawn.”

Ah, but it would be worth it. She wanted more of the feelings Ryan evoked. More of the heat and desire, and to know what lay at the end of it. Once. Just this once, perhaps for the only time, she wanted to know what she’d given up to keep Lucy safe. She’d been waiting for it, fighting it, from the moment she had turned in her library and seen his face, but she did not want to live a lifetime of regret when he was gone. Would
that
be worth it?

He gripped her shoulders and held her away. “Did you hear me, Emmy? I will not let you go if this goes any further.”

What could she say? Denials whirled through her head but all that passed her lips was, “Please, Ryan…please…”

He lifted her and carried her to his bed, nuzzling her ear and whispering endearments. Then he set her on her feet and molded his lips to hers as he began removing her clothing. Oh, thank heavens she’d undressed when she came home from the theatre, and only pulled on one of her plain homespun dresses when she’d decided she needed a walk. He untied her sash and lifted the gown over her head, leaving her in nothing but her chemise.

Ryan circled her—he was behind her, in front of her, above and below her, filling her senses and drowning reason. When he’d finished his study of her, he caught her against his hard, solid body. She could not catch her breath and thought he’d devour her whole.

His hand was insistent, moving along her spine, pressing her closer. She slipped her arms up around his neck to stroke the soft dark curls at his nape. She wanted to stop—to retreat to the familiar safety and numbness—but her newborn recklessness urged her to match him measure for measure.

When he bent his head and nibbled her earlobe, she was trembling with anticipation. Her knees weakened again, and she clung to him for support. “Ryan…” She murmured his name and lifted her mouth to accept the intimacy of his tongue as he tugged the tapes of her chemise and let it fall to the floor.

“Emmy…Emmy…Emmy…”

She shivered, uncertain if the thrill was caused by the cool night air or Ryan’s words. “I can feel your voice in every part of me,” she said.

“Sweet Jesus,” he muttered. He lifted her and lay her on the bed. The look on his face was half-fierce and half-tender as he discarded his own clothing and lay down beside her.

The force of his passion swept her along. At each increased intimacy, when she would have stopped or demurred, the feel of his hand on her flesh compelled her to continue. His dark eyes glittered as they swept the length of her bared flesh, and she smiled when he groaned, “Damn…”

He touched, caressed, and fondled all of her, stopping to linger when he drew an uncontrolled gasp or shiver from her. When he traced the ridge of the scar on her leg, his voice lowered in a muffled curse. “I would undo this if I could, Emmy. It never should have happened.”

She smiled when she realized he was apologizing for something she had done.

His sensual exploration made her feel truly beautiful for the first time in her life. She touched him, hesitantly, a little shyly, sliding her fingertips over his muscular chest, tracing the contours of the sinews beneath the firm flesh.

She pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat, relishing the feel of his pulse throbbing there. She felt as if her own heart hesitated and began again to beat in rhythm with his.

The clean, slightly salty, taste of his skin awoke another kind of hunger in her, and she became greedy for more. She was no longer self-conscious and shy—only intrigued—when he told her to close her eyes and took her hand in his.

“I want you to feel what I feel, Emily,” he whispered.

His hands over hers, they traced her outline. He stopped to press her palm over her breast, then moved across her stomach to the curve of her hips. “Now you will know what I am feeling and how well you please me.”

A lump formed in her throat, and she wanted to thank him, but he brought her hand to his chest and guided her hand downward, across the hard ridges of his abdomen to rest at the top of a thatch of crisp hair. He waited, tense, but apparently unwilling to proceed without a sign of assent from her.

“Ryan?” She moved closer, wildly curious but hesitant, afraid to touch that uniquely male part of him.

He took her hand to his shaft and closed it around him.

He felt like…velvet, but so hard. In truth, it was the most extraordinary thing she’d ever experienced, a paradox—both hard and soft, civil and savage. And dangerous. His response to her touch gave her a sense of power. Could she create the kind of pleasure in him that he had in her? She stroked him and was pleased when he caught his breath and gave a soft moan.

He moved his hand to the V at the juncture of her legs, then dipped lower to stroke delicately at the soft hollow there. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips, and she shivered with delight.
“Oh
! Oh…”

Instinct prevailed, and she lifted one knee upward to skim the outer edge of his leg and hip, giving him better access.

When her body hummed and every secret part of her quivered at his touch, and she felt she could take no more, she whimpered a helpless plea. “Ryan! I…” She caught her breath when he bent to nibble one exquisitely sensitive breast yet again.

“Yield, Emmy.” His hands cupped her face and his thumbs moved to brush damp wisps of hair away from her eyes. “I must have the word. Yield.”

Yield? Good Lord!
She was scant moments from ravishing him! She needed to find whatever lay at the end of this more than she’d needed anything in her entire life! She gulped. “I yield, Mr. Button. I yield.”

His answer was a deep, throaty laugh that mingled with her blood and raced through her veins. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her breasts and the well of her navel. She touched the top of his head as it moved lower still, tangling her fingers through the soft dark cap of hair.

Within moments, she felt as if she’d burst into flames. Hot tongues of rapture licked along every nerve and shimmered outward. “Ryan! Oh!”

He moved up between her thighs, then hesitated when he was poised above her. Instinctively, her hips rose to find him, seeking the palpable sensation of his flesh. His shaft was hard and hot between them, and she grew anxious to know when and how that part would come. She savored the pressure and rubbed against it. Shivers ran up her arms and along her spine with the sheer deliciousness of the sensation.

Ryan held her gaze. “I’ve waited too long to hurry this now, Emmy.” He laced his fingers through hers and held her hands against her pillow.

“Now, Ryan. Please?” Experimentally, she rose higher, rotating her hips a little as she did.

His jaw clenched. His face, dewed with perspiration, looked grim. “God help me, I’m not in control of this.” He let himself down on her almost regretfully.

She stiffened when he gained a shallow entry to her passage. He stopped, and she took in a long, shuddering breath, certain now that he’d never fit.

“Christ!” he moaned. “I cannot spare you, Emmy. Breathe deeply.”

She could feel his muscles trembling with an attempt to hold back—to remain above her and not within her. Despite the sudden discomfort, she needed to find the end to this.

“I can give you what you need without taking you, Emmy. You must tell me now, but be sure. In a moment, ’twill be too late.”

“I want…you.”

“No more than I want you,” he whispered, and her heart fluttered like a bird taking flight. His mouth covered hers as he thrust deep and true.

A sharp sting brought an involuntary cry to her lips, and her fingers, still laced through his, tightened in response. She moaned, uncomfortable with the thickness inside her and amazed that he’d been able to force the fit at all. He held steady, but her driving need to finish this diminished with the aching within. She closed her eyes and concentrated on his velvet whisper as he began to move again, gently rocking against her to ease his entry. “That was the worst of it, my sweet. Put your arms around me. Hold on. Yes…
yes
. Can you feel yourself stretching for me? Welcoming me? You’re a perfect fit…made for me. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Ever needed. You’re mine, Emmy…
mine
.”

Her mind filled with his voice, her body opened to his praise, and the longing thrill began to build again. Once he was completely buried within her, she felt as if he were opening her like some enchanting, wondrous gift. He lifted and fell in a slow rhythm at first, then more quickly when she began gasping with the building of uncontrollable pressures.

All of the tingling in her extremities drew inward to the one central core where Ryan joined with her and became a part of her. She choked back sobs but could not stop repeating an unfinished plea. “Please. Please, Ryan!”

Sudden unstoppable waves of pleasure concentrated at her core and then washed through her entire body, spreading outward in slowly diminishing intervals. Tears seeped from beneath her lowered lashes. This, then, was rapture!

She’d never experienced such a feeling of utter peace and belonging. When Ryan’s ragged breathing gave way to gasping shudders, he whispered her name in a voice raw with passion. “Emmy…”

…

“We had a very enjoyable time, Papa,” Theodora told her father the next morning at breakfast. “Miss Smythe was excellent in the role of Rosalind. She was especially amusing when being Ganymede.”

Emily pushed her plate away as she watched the solicitor stuff eggs and toast into his mouth. Weary from sneaking in before dawn, all she could think about was Ryan Sutton and the things he’d taught her last night. The mere memory made her pulse race. The danger of discovery; the illicit nature of her tryst with Ryan; and her stealthy, silent assent up the servant’s stairs upon her return left her breathless in the clear light of day. Had she been mad to take such a risk? Yes, she supposed it was a sweet madness.

Mr. Dodge coughed, and she refocused on the conversation, wondering, not for the first time, how the solicitor had managed to find the courage to forge a letter from her mother. He must be living in terror that she’d discover the truth, or that her mother would arrive from Scotland demanding to know what was afoot.

“Mmm.” Mr. Dodge swallowed another forkful of eggs. “Were you invited to any fetes last evening?”

Theodora took a sip of tea before answering. “Yes, several, in fact. But we didn’t go. We came home early.”

Emily perked up at the mention of a topic that interested her. “Yes, you see, just as we were leaving the theater—”

“Lord Devaux suggested a ride through Hyde Park,” Theodora shot a warning look at Emily. “It was quite pleasant and did not delay us long.”

“You preferred a ride through the park to a gala?”

“We were tired.” Theodora feigned boredom. “There will be other events.”

“Yes,” Mr. Dodge agreed. “There will be parties and galas enough for a jade. I’ve seen your calendar. ’Twould appear that you are much in demand and have few openings for the next several weeks.”

“Everyone has been very kind,” Emily murmured.

“Kind or not, I consider it my duty to see your future settled with a respectable husband and good standing in society. And speaking of that, are you not attending Julia Bradford’s soiree tonight?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Excellent! Her father is well placed in the guilds. A most advantageous friendship. I saw, also, that you are invited to Marsh’s masque. That is an important event. In addition, I’d like you to obtain an invitation for the weekend at Lord Carson’s country estate next month. Everyone will be there.”

The busybody had been going through their invitations? He was using her and his own daughter to increase his standing in society? Thank heavens Lucy was not here. Emily would never allow him to use her sister so shamelessly. “Not I,” she said. “I will be home by then.” She buttered her toast and tore off a little piece to nibble on. Perhaps it was Mr. Dodge who ruined her appetite.

“You are not going anywhere, Miss Nevins.”

She looked up and fastened Henry Dodge with the most innocent gaze she could manage. “I appreciate your hospitality, sir, but I am needed at home. This is a very busy time of year at Oak Hill. The plantings, the weeding, irrigation—”

“Leave that to Mr. Bart. Gently born women should have nothing to do with such things.”

“Oak Hill will be mine one day not so very long from now. I think it prudent that I be familiar with all facets of the farm. Mama’s frequent absences have afforded me the opportunity to learn so much already, but there is still more I must know. I feel certain you’d want me to be a good landlord, would you not?” She tilted her head to the side and blinked. “And, as you are aware, my funds do not extend to additional help at the moment.”

Theodora emitted a small sound something like a squeak. “Perhaps, once the planting is done, she will return for the remainder of—”

“Stay out of this, Theodora!” Dodge snarled.

Emily knew Dodge was not certain if she was playing him for a fool, and that she’d have to keep him off-balance if she didn’t want an ugly confrontation. “I am grateful that you take your temporary guardianship seriously, Mr. Dodge. Why, you’ve even been so thorough as to read my mail for possible insults. Mother will be quite impressed with your diligence. She has very strong feelings regarding my safety and comfort, doubtless because Lucy and I are all she has. But I really feel, sir, that Mother would want me to do what is best for the whole. Duty, she calls it. I collect that would be returning to Oak Hill.”

“You are an ungrateful chit! I put myself out on your behalf. I made room for you in my home and allowed my own daughter to instruct you in proper etiquette and how to conduct yourself in society. I feed and clothe you—”

“For which I am correspondingly grateful. You must debit my account for the full cost, if you haven’t already. I know Mother will expect to reimburse you.” She paused, not knowing how much longer she would be able to control her cold fury. She absolutely loathed the man. “I certainly did not expect you to take such pains on my behalf, nor would I have ever dreamed of asking you. Why, had you not taken matters into your own hands, I’d not have come to London at all.”