The Wicked Wedding of Miss Ellie Vyne (11 page)

He smiled stiffly, wishing his blood would cool, but her caress left him piping hot, rigid as marble. James didn’t know what to do with himself. As, no doubt, the temptress was aware. “Hmmm?”

“I want your stud services for five nights. While we’re in the country together.”

Incapable of speech, he watched her pour ale with a steady hand, her expression unreadable. God in heaven she was a menace, he thought, more dangerous than he gave her credit for in the past.

“Five nights for five diamonds,” she added as if he might not understand the significance of the number. “You see, I’ve been thinking about your marriage proposal. The truth is, I would like a child.”

The surprises continued falling around him like ripened walnuts.

Then she added, “But what if you can’t give me one?”

“I can’t say the possibility had occurred to me.”

“Of course not. To save us both unnecessary trouble, I’ll give you five nights to perform your duty. We should make certain everything works. Is that agreeable to you?”

Words would not form.

“I don’t mind if the five nights are consecutive, Hartley. Whatever is convenient. If I become pregnant, then we’ll marry to make my child legitimate. If I do not conceive a child, then we’ll both be free to go our separate ways. No harm done.”

One thing was for sure, he realized, she would never cry on his shoulder with her problems. She didn’t want to be saved by him, or comforted.

She wanted to be serviced.

“You’ve been thinking this through, obviously.”

“Of course. To embark on any arrangement with a man like you is a mistake, unless one considers everything.”

“Everything?” He was incredulous, although that was perhaps not a strong enough word.

“You may not be up to it, and I should hate to agree to this
convenient
marriage arrangement and then one day wake up and find I’m too old to have children.” She shot him a glance that could be described as unladylike at best, blatantly lusty at worst. “Why shouldn’t I give you a chance to provide me with the child I want?” Her eyelids looked heavy again. The tip of her tongue swept her upper lip, wiping off a little froth from the ale. “With your looks and my brains… Don’t look so peevish, Hartley.” She chuckled. “Bedding me won’t put you out too much. I’ll be very good, I promise, and oblige your every desire.”

Her bold, teasing words made him restless, and his shaft stretched uncomfortably another inch, trying the material of his already too-tight breeches.

“Five nights for five diamonds, Hartley. You do want them all back, don’t you?” Picking up her fork, she finished the last few bites on her plate, making the most of his hospitality. And his mute confusion. “There is only one other thing,” she added.

Of course, there must be something more.

“For those five nights there’d better be no other women.”

James choked out a response. “And no other men.”

She nodded. “Good. I shall have your sole attention then for five nights. In the country.”

He bowed his head. “And I shall have yours.”

The fire in the hearth fizzled and spat as rain came down the chimney and tried to put it out. He knew the feeling. Nothing had put his flames out either. She’d lit them by crawling between his thighs and pressing her body to his. Now she’d left them to burn, deliberately.

“Unless, of course,” he added quietly, “you don’t want to give me up in five nights.”

The impertinent vixen had the gall to laugh. “I’ll take that gamble.”

James said nothing. His fingers tapped his hat, and his gaze fixed on her lips as she swallowed the last morsel.

“And this is
not
an engagement, Hartley. It is an agreement to marry if—and only if—there is a child. I’ve had little fortune with engagements, so I prefer not to call it that.”

“Whatever you wish.”

Several moments passed while he gathered his thoughts, which she’d massacred into little pieces with the long sword of her tongue. Just when he thought he was in control of this situation, she’d snatched it away again. He did not like this. Not at all.

“Perhaps you’d like some ale?” she inquired. “You look rather apoplectic.”

“No. Thank you.” He could see he’d need his wits about him tonight.

He stood, walked to the door. When he swung around to face her again, she was licking her fingers and humming carelessly.

She paused and looked surprised he was still there.

“We’ll begin now then,” he said, turning the key with a loud click.

“Now?”

“You said at my convenience. Madam.” He didn’t trust a curl on her head, and she wasn’t running away from him again. Never again.

She glanced at the remains littered across the table and realized there was nothing left to eat. No excuse to put this off.

He was pulling his shirt over his head. “Haste, Vyne.”

Her body stirred, and her pulse beat fast enough to whip egg whites into meringue. “Could you look in my trunk for a Brussels lace bed robe?”

His knuckles rested on his hips as he glared at her.

“I’d like to change behind the screen,” she explained.

Still he hesitated, already half-naked himself. From his expression, she worried he might not only refuse to get her robe but would rip the clothes off her with his teeth. Firelight swept over the ridges of his fine torso as he stretched his arms overhead, delaying.

“You do know what Brussels lace looks like?” she asked politely and with a deliberate smile. “I’m sure you’ve seen plenty. Or are you usually too inebriated to notice?”

Finally he stalked to her trunk, kicked the broken lid open, and crouched to rummage inside. He withdrew the flimsy garment and tossed it at her. She scuttled gratefully behind the dressing screen in one corner of the chamber, where she took a few moments to prepare and compose herself. Peeking between the panels of the screen, she watched him undress. He kicked off his boots and then stripped his breeches and smallclothes. His every gesture was sharp, concise, angry. She’d had no idea that demanding a stud service would infuriate him to this degree. But this affair had to be on her terms. She couldn’t let him make the rules. She risked enough to be with him as it was.

He leapt onto the bed and sprawled there, waiting for her. Of course, he thought her experienced, but Ellie’s practical knowledge was based on her one encounter with Walter Winthorne’s small equipment and a few, merely exploratory misadventures with her father’s groom when she was young and curious. She knew what happened next, but there were variants—mysterious things she’d only heard about. She eyed his muscular length and felt the warm heaviness between her thighs. James Hartley, her wicked plaything for five nights.

“Haste, Vyne,” he bellowed again, hands behind his head, half-propped up on pillows.

His manner was cool, even detached. Ellie tried not to notice. After all, she knew what she was getting into when she suggested this arrangement. She had no one to blame but herself.

She tied the silk belt around her waist and stepped out into the firelight. His eyes narrowed. He went very still, reminding her of a panther at the zoo, waiting for the keeper to lower a lump of raw meat into its cage.

“About time,” he said.

She couldn’t agree more. He beckoned with one finger. Moving closer to the bed, she boldly placed her hand on his thigh. He was warm when she touched him, and the hairs on his body were soft, the muscle beneath hard as steel. Lying stark naked there before her, blue eyes afire and hair warmed by soft candlelight, he looked like a debauched archangel.

“You must have had many propositions like this one,” she teased, “with all this male beauty fallen to your lot.”

His thigh flexed under her stroking palm. “Have you
made
many such propositions before?”

“Countless. Haven’t you heard the rumors about me?”

He exhaled softly. “What exactly did you have planned for me, Vyne?” Now there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

Her gaze traveled upward to his face, not skipping an inch, and her breath quickened. “Whatever you desire.”

James hitched onto his hip and patted the mattress beside him. “Then we’d best get started.”

Ellie felt her pulse flutter wildly. Candlelight danced over his hair, catching on the hint of gold and polishing it. One by one, she took stock of his features again: the slender nose, artfully sculpted lips that were always so quick to sneer at her, high cheekbones, and eyes of a brilliant, tropical hue tonight. The bruise around his right eye lent an air of danger, brought his proudly angelic features down to earth and within reach of a naughty little devil like her.

“If I must be used as a breeding device, Vyne, I’d like to get on with it.”

Clearly he was ready. There was no hiding his arousal.

Dear God, what was she doing? She shook her head and laughed gently. God had no answer for her, but the devil might.

***

As she fussed over the knotted belt of her lacy bed robe, he recognized her intent to delay again. James grabbed her around the waist, pulling her onto the bed and securing her quickly beneath his body. When she first stepped out from behind that screen, the firelight behind her, he saw she still wore her corset and chemise beneath the robe, but these items didn’t keep him from admiring the shape of her legs or from seeing she wore no drawers.

His reaction was instant, and when she touched his thigh, he’d almost erupted on the spot. Now he ground his arousal against those flimsy fripperies she insisted on wearing to bed. She blew curls out of her mouth, her cheeks pink, eyes shining up at him, her warm sumptuousness separated from his hard, naked body by an almost transparent linen chemise, a bit of lace, and a corset. His heart thumped away, shuddering through his body.

Having approached him warily, like a wild animal cautious of a trap, she now laughed at him again as if he was there solely for her damned amusement. Each gasping breath made the swell of her breasts push upward into his chest. Her skin was fine, smooth. Not as pale as fashion decreed for a lady, but glowing in the warm, pulsing light.

“Are you ready for your first servicing?” He parted her legs with his broad thighs, his hands firm around her wrists, holding them to the pillow on either side of her tousled head. “I’m not of a mind to delay.”

She strained forward and reached for his lips, but he didn’t give them just yet. She arched, and he moved his hips, ensuring she felt every inch of his desire for her. For the last few nights he’d endured this state of agitation and had no opportunity to soothe the pangs with a good release. It was all her fault, because he hadn’t been able to look at another woman since the night he found her in the count’s bed. Now he finally had this notorious temptress beneath him, restless, throbbing with barely restrained energy. Wanting him to give her a child. She spoke as if the child would be hers to raise—not theirs. She did not expect him to be around much or take any interest in fatherhood. As if he could donate his seed and not care. That was how little she thought of him.

James no longer felt the cold damp of that dreary day; his aches and pains swiftly dissolved. He was less than an inch from impaling her, his sac tight, blood filling his cock, his seed rushing. He stared down at her face amid the mess of dark curls. Desire flooded her eyes. She didn’t try to stop it. Unashamed. Incorrigible. Downright impertinent. And beautiful.

Beautiful trouble. He’d always known it, always tried to look the other way and avoid temptation. Stood aside and watched other men dance with her, laugh with her, whisper in her ear.

No more.

Here was the woman so long forbidden to him, and now he would take what he wanted.

Those long legs stroked his thighs, his hips, and his flanks. The urgency between them both was about to overflow.

Finally he released her wrists and kissed her, his hands in her hair, binding it around his long fingers. He thrust his tongue and his hips at the same time, and he could have possessed her there and then, if not for her chemise—that thin barrier still in his way. All that wriggling had gathered the silk up to her thighs, and there it bunched, moistened by their mutual heat. It teased the head of his cock, caressing it. He wanted to rip the material aside and plow forward to claim her.

Somehow he reined it in. He had told her he was in no mood to delay, but having waited this long, perhaps he could wait a little longer. He’d make her wait too.

When he slid down the bed, the impertinent miss demanded to know where he went. Her hands clutched for him as he slipped from her grasp.

His palms flat to her inner thighs, he pressed them wide apart and then settled his shoulders between her knees. “Woman, you are altogether too impatient, too wanton. Please show a little restraint.”

As he rolled her chemise up over her hips and out of his way, she tried closing her legs, but he had her trapped, spread now for
his
teasing. He pressed a gentle kiss to her sex, barely touching. Was that a purr he heard that rumbled softly down her body? If not, there was a kitten somewhere, hiding under the bed. He licked her just once, very quickly. The divine, creamy sweetness burst upon his tongue, and he wanted more, but he made her wait until she lifted off the mattress in frustration. Then he kissed her intimately again, lingering this time, letting her tender flesh bloom wet and hot under his lips.

“James,” she groaned as her fingers scrabbled for his hair, “what are you doing?”

“This is one of five nights, woman. I’m not going to rush it.”

He wanted Ellie Vyne completely at his mercy, because he was very nearly at hers.

Slowly he lapped at her sweetness, relishing the wickedness of teasing her, enjoying his treat. Her breathing changed, quickened. Shattered gasps broke over his head. James swirled his tongue against her soft, hot flesh and slipped inside. He closed his eyes. The need swelled within his loins, clamoring to be satisfied. His erect, throbbing shaft rubbed against the mattress.

She was trembling. Laid out for him. Breathless. Her fingers tugged on his hair, almost pulling it out by the root.

Close to giving in and letting her peak, somehow he held back again, delayed just to torment her. He drew a breath and then another as she squirmed before him, straining to close her thighs, wanting more, demanding he let her finish. She was a hair’s breadth from implosion. Finally he touched his tongue to her sex again.

***

She closed her eyes as the tremor shook her violently. Lord, what had he done to her? Was that sound her own exhale, broken into a low, throaty moan of a most uncivilized nature? Her fingers were bunched tight in the sheet, and yet she was flying, soaring.

This
is
one
of
five
nights, woman. I’m not going to rush it.

True to his word, he took his time. She certainly could not complain. Finally reassembling her wits, she opened her eyes and found him leaning over her again, watching her face. Even through shadows and dim, flickering light, she felt the searching blue intensity in his eyes. She read his thoughts. He was well aware of the trouble they were getting into and couldn’t prevent it any more than she could. They were hopeless cases. This forbidden desire had built in them both, and there was only one way to vanquish it.

“Turn over then,” he whispered huskily.

“What?”

She felt the vibrations of his low chuckles. “Corset. Laces. Off.”

“Oh. Yes.” Ellie rolled over so he could tackle the job. “Hurry,” she urged.

His lips moved wetly across the nape of her neck, and she felt his teeth nibbling her skin gently. “If you want to be mounted properly by this stallion, you must have patience, my naughty filly.”

But Ellie found she had little left of that commodity. The sad remains were fast dripping through her fingers. “I wonder what your grandmother would say if she saw you now.”

He tugged on her corset laces with far more strength than required, in the manner of an extremely surly, and incompetent, lady’s maid. “I’m sure her words would be plentiful, whatever they were.”

Ellie laughed. He did not.

As he knelt astride her legs, she jumped at the sensation of his naked manhood touching her bottom. The heat almost melted the thin material of her chemise. “I find it hard to believe you’ve never unlaced a woman’s corset before, Hartley,” she complained and gripped the pillow with both arms.

“I’ve never unlaced
your
corset before,” he replied. “For some reason, I’m all thumbs in your case.”

Startled by his candid confession, she lay still, her complaints sunk into the pillow, her body attuned to the touch of his fingertips, willing them to go faster, willing them to have sudden dexterity. The anticipation might kill her slowly, but she was certain he could revive her from death itself. The way he kissed her was unlike anything she’d ever known. The senseless delight that skipped through her at his every steamy, blue-eyed glance was likely to cause her injury if she didn’t soon do something about it.

He pressed his lips to her shoulder, while his fingers continued pulling her laces free. His breathing was haphazard, each branding kiss to her flesh pressed a little harder, left a little longer, following the last much more swiftly. As he loosened the corset, he pulled down on her chemise, exposing her spine to his lips, one vertebrae at a time, one shiver per breath.

The last lace was almost free, and his kisses had reached the hollow at the base of her spine, when it suddenly occurred to Ellie that the intrusive thumping sound was neither her heart nor large hailstones falling against the roof. Someone was at the door, pounding on it with their fist.

***

James swung open the door, breeches and shirt pulled on in haste, his mind boiling, hands ready to crush the windpipe of whoever had disturbed his night.

It was Grieves.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the valet murmured, “but something has arisen of a most unfortunate nature.”

Behind him he heard the sounds of Ellie scrambling off the bed, rushing behind the dressing screen. Frustration bubbled in his veins and uncomfortably heated certain parts of his anatomy.

“What is it?” he hissed. “Has the other one got out?”

“No, sir.” Grieves lowered his voice to a whisper. “That item is still safely secured and sleeping like a pup, having imbibed a jug of cider.”

“Thank Christ! Then what on earth—?”

“I had the idea of staying drier in the carriage, sir, but upon entering, I made a sudden, alarming discovery.”

James realized his valet had a bundle of something at his side. In the shadowy light of the passage, it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, and then the bundle looked up at him and exclaimed, “I told you I was running away. Men never listen.”