The Viscount's Addiction (20 page)

him. With exquisite slowness, she impaled herself. She rode him hard. A soft cry escaped her lips every time she descended, absorbing the full impact of his shaft. The muscles in her thighs trembled. Her movements became uncontrolled. Insisting on a driving rhythm, he began to lift her and bring her down with force. Her head lolled back, her hair brushing against his legs.

The muscles in his shoulders tensed as he reached for climax. She attempted to pull up, but his fingers dug into her hips, holding her firm as he emptied his seed into her.
He finally trusts me
. Her heart expanded with joy. She collapsed against his shoulder with a shuddering sob. Her tears wilted the crisp linen of his shirt.

“Have I hurt you?” he asked.

She managed only a shake of her head as she clumsily disengaged herself from his embrace. She accepted the handkerchief he gave her, but instead of drying her tears, she used it to clean the precious liquid that dripped down her thighs.

He yanked up his trousers. “Trying to rid yourself of me. Bloody great.” “I’ve already soaked your shirt through. I was hoping to spare your trousers.” “Right,” he said fiercely.

He was soon back in his full elegant evening attire looking every bit the viscount while she stood naked and vulnerable in the circle of moonlight.

With deft fingers, he helped lace up her stays. “I realize you were forced into this marriage. That I’m no prize. I can be uncivilized, a downright beast at times. And you must tire of the demands I place on you—”

“I rather enjoy those demands.”

“Jess, do you care for me at all?” His voice was raw.

She turned around and wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers.

A frown creased his brow. He seemed aware the kiss was a way to avoid answering him. But he cradled her chin in his hands and returned the kiss with such tenderness that tears pricked her eyes. Perhaps tonight in bed she would have the courage to bare her heart to him.

Once she’d donned her petticoat and dress, she refashioned her hair into a much simpler chignon than the maid had created. Knowing that the pearl net would be impossible to put back in her coiffure, she tucked it into his pocket. They would surely create a scandalous stir.

He enfolded her hand in his, and they retraced the path through the maze. They stepped out of the shadows to find a small crowd of party members clustered around the exit with candles alight. It was a rescue mission. They’d come to save her from the monster, the deadly viscount.

Jeffrey puffed his chest out like a bantam cock as he approached, but his fear was palpable. Even Joseph, who’d experienced battle, looked worried, his face washed of color.

Joseph put his hand on the hilt of his saber. Had he worn the weapon all night? She hadn’t noticed. She stepped in front of Ryder. “You’ll have to run that through both of us.” Even before she heard Ryder’s deep chuckle, she realized how silly and melodramatic her words sounded. But she didn’t trust this civilized, yet agitated, mob.

“Stand aside, Miss Nash. The man’s not to be trusted.”

“You know nothing of him. You base all your knowledge on gossip and untruths.” A querying murmur traveled through the crowd.

“How many of you could have withstood the horrors of Newgate,
especially
knowing you were put there unjustly? My husband is an extraordinary man who has been to hell and back. And you should all feel yourself privileged to be acquainted with him.” She knew that her voice quavered, but she thrust out her chin with confidence.

Metal scraped ominously against metal as Joseph pulled his sword. “I can only think how this blackguard bullied you. Why else would you defend his unworthy hide?”

“Joseph.” Jessie’s voice rose to a hysterical level. “If you injure my husband I will never forgive you.”

Ryder gripped her waist, lifted her off her feet and set her to his side. “Will you strike an unarmed man, Duckett? Does the military no longer hold honor in high regard? Someone fetch me a like weapon.”

There was a shriek and Mrs. Duckett swooned, crumpling to the grass.

Fainting was an entirely appropriate reaction. Ryder’s challenge made Jessie frantic as well. Joseph flashing his sword was likely nothing beyond bravado, but Ryder…his was a threat to be taken seriously. She stumbled clumsily, treading on his boots to clutch at his lapels. She did not care if she made a fool of herself clinging and weeping.

“A bit of a handicap. I don’t think my opponent has a wife fastened to him.” He actually had the audacity to grin.

“This is not amusing,” she said and clasped tighter to him. She heard the unmistakable sound of the saber returning to the scabbard and turned her head to see Joseph stride forward and extend his hand.

“My sincerest apologies.” In the candlelight, she could see that Joseph’s cheeks were darkened with embarrassment.

Jessie released her husband but remained close by his side. Her pulse still pounded thickly in her ears. She held her breath until Ryder reached out and accepted Joseph’s apology.

Joseph took a step back and bowed stiffly. “Clearly, I’ve acted on false assumptions.

The esteem of a lady like Miss Nash is hard won.” “You have
no
idea,” Ryder drawled sarcastically.

Jeffrey was in line behind his brother. He cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles with trembling fingers. “Seems we’ve misjudged you, Lord Blackwood,” he mumbled. Other men threaded cautiously through the crowd to shake hands with Ryder.

Mrs. Duckett had been helped to her feet. She had a wan smile on her face.

Finally, the crowd scattered. They looked a little dejected, perhaps disappointed in the lack of an explosive finale to the scene.

Ryder whipped Jessie around to face him. “So, you have a high opinion of me, do you?” he said with a self-satisfied smile on his handsome face.

“Oh, all that—” she gave a flippant wave of her hand, “—I was just rattling on.”

He wasn’t buying a bit of it. His arrogant grin widened. “You bloody well love me,” he declared.

Putting her hands on her hips, she said, “You are awfully sure of yourself.”

“Admit it, Jess. You love me. You love your husband.” When she didn’t immediately respond, the certainty of his smile faltered.

She threw herself at him. He felt solid, safe and exciting all at the same time. “Of course I love you. How could I
not
?”

He stroked her hair, which threatened to undo her coiffure again so she wriggled out of his grasp. “We should return.”

“What the devil for?” He yanked her back into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.

“Stubborn man—” she said the words against his mouth then pulled her lips away, “—we need to at least make a civil exit.” She gave his cravat a tug and he reluctantly followed her across the lawn.

Music drifted to them as they stepped onto the balcony.

Ryder chuckled. “A waltz? Mrs. Duckett allows such licentious behavior?”

“No, that is Jeffrey’s sense of humor. He requests a waltz from the musicians and then watches the unease. No one has had the courage to wander onto the dance floor. ’Tis quite amusing to watch the older people pretend not to hear the tune and the younger exchange simmering glances.”

He trailed a seductive finger from the tip of her finger to the top of her glove. “Shall we dance it?”

“You are jesting. We’ve created enough of a stir for one day.” Who was she fooling with her prim attitude? Dancing with the man would be sheer bliss.

Ryder glanced around. “Here on the balcony, then.”

The candles in the sconces had guttered out and the relative darkness made the balcony nearly invisible to those inside yet she hesitated.

“Yes, I do know how to dance,” he said. “Before I was a convict I received invitations and often the settings were not so provincial. I may not be as well-traveled as your phantom scholar, but I have seen some of the world.” He put his hand out and she placed hers into it.

Jessie smiled. “You misunderstand. ’Tis your toes that are in danger.” “I’ll risk them.”

She peered up into his eyes as he pulled her indecently close, closer she suspected than a waltz was intended to be danced. The size of the balcony limited their movements. But Jessie was both annoyed and impressed by his fluid movements. She felt awkward in comparison. The music would fade in and out but his tempo never faltered. The leisurely turns combined with Ryder’s closeness made her head swoon. “My phantom scholar?” she finally asked, recalling his odd statement. Could he still be bothered by her impulsive utterances in the pond?

He clasped her tighter. “Your ideal husband. The man to whom you wished to confess undying love.”

His shoulder tensed under her hand. Clearly he still yearned to hear a stronger declaration of commitment from her. “I certainly did not admit my feelings for you with

such sarcasm. In fact my heart was nearly breaking knowing my time with you was limited.”

He stopped dancing with such abruptness she made good her prediction and trampled his feet. His poor boots were taking quite a beating tonight, she thought.

She craned her neck to look at him and he seemed stunned by her revelation. “So you’ve loved me all along, little witch?”

She shrugged then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Not all along…but mostly.”

About the Author

To learn more about Scottie Barrett, please visit
www.scottiebarrett.com
. Send an email to Scottie at
[email protected]
.

Look for these titles by Scottie Barrett

Now Available:

Carnal Deceptions

Tess Starling is willing to risk everything—and offer anything—to avenge her father's death.

Carnal Deceptions

© 2007 Scottie Barrett Available now at Samhain Publishing

Upon leaving her father's gravesite, Tess spies creditors confiscating the finery of her first London Season. But her gowns will do little to satisfy her father's debts. Fleet Prison awaits her. Tess dons a homely disguise, cloaking herself in mourning weeds. She is determined to evade the authorities until she brings to justice the swindler who ruined her father. Resolute in her quest, she will transform anew, reinventing herself as a temptress to seduce the villain. She only wants for hands-on training, but the man who volunteers proves too much of a distraction. Everything about Tallon Hawkes, the Earl of Marcliffe, fascinates, including the battle scars marking his body. A motivated pupil, Tess yields eagerly to his sexual demands.

Long before he discovers the sensuous female beneath the layers of black crepe…long before he discovers the brilliant copper-colored tresses hidden by the ratty wig…long before he tastes the sweetness of her skin, Tallon Hawkes' heart has been hooked. Tallon plays along with Tess's scheme, but he is distrustful and jealous of her obsession with their shared enemy. Tallon is determined to bring her dangerous game to an end. But will his arrogant maneuver lose him any chance with Tess?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Carnal Deceptions
:

The next morning, Tess woke to find herself tangled in her blankets. She’d been dreaming of satin and silk and erotic couplings. The explicit pictures that Miss Midwinter had shown her were branded on her brain. A woman bound with ropes, lifting her bottom in offering as she waited for the man to plunge into her. A woman servicing three men at once. Miss Midwinter had added her own narrative, describing the sexual acts depicted so graphically Tess had been forced to open the window to the chill morning air to cool her cheeks. All her lessons lacked were practice. Her dreams had revealed a deep hunger for that real experience. Unfortunately, in every dream Lord Marcliffe was the man she explored with her mouth and hands and body. She’d slid satin over the smooth skin of his chest until it snagged on the rough scars of his shoulder. More shockingly, she’d followed the trail of the fabric with her open mouth, her tongue tracing every ridge.

Frustrated, she threw her bedclothes aside. She stepped naked out of bed and bathed herself at the washstand. After patting herself dry, she opened the wardrobe and peered into a dark and empty hole. Not even her chemise hung there. She searched the floor, shook out the bedclothes, got on her knees to peer under the bed and found nothing, not a stitch. Even the flannel gown she’d thrown off in the night was gone. She wrapped herself in a blanket. Opening the door a crack, she called for help. No one answered. Her pleas seemed to echo off the walls.

Tess stepped into the hallway and raced down the stairs. There was a queer emptiness to the house. She shivered as her bare feet touched the cold tile floor of the entrance hall. With the heavy blanket dragging behind her, she entered the dining room. No weak tea or burnt toast awaited her. She pushed open the kitchen door expecting to see Mrs. Smith’s smiling face, only to find another vacant room. Afraid now, she hurried up the stairs to Lady Stadwell’s bedchamber. The door was ajar. She found the wardrobe empty as well as the bureau drawers.

She’d been deserted. She could not go into the yard naked, but she was certain what she would find there. No gardeners, no grooms, and the stable cleared of all horses.

Without question, she knew exactly who had executed this plan, who'd evacuated the house right under her nose. Trembling with fury, she returned to her chamber. Why not take advantage and luxuriate in bed for once? First she fluffed the pillow but then decided to give it a good pounding, until feathers burst from its seams. She settled back on the now flattened pillow, but finding rest in her agitated state proved impossible. With a scream of vexation, she kicked the covers to the floor then with a muttered oath stooped to retrieve the blanket. She had yet to explore Mrs. Smith's room. Determined to thwart the fiendish earl, Tess lit a candle and ascended the servants' stairs. The flame fluttered eerily in the narrow hallway. Muttering a plea for fortune to turn in her favor, she entered the low-ceilinged room. The doors on the small wardrobe were agape, and the barren interior that greeted her seemed a purposeful taunt. Not even a blasted apron remained.