To Tame a Dangerous Lord (36 page)

Then Rayne stopped once more. Dragging his brilliant gaze over her in a lazy caress, he smiled devilishly.

“Touch yourself for me, darling, between your thighs.”

Responding willingly, she let her legs fall open further and slid her fingers into the moisture between her folds.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, his voice very low and intimate.

“Yes,”
Madeline rasped. “More than ready.”

She felt on fire as liquid heat poured into her center; she burned there. When his fingers cupped her again, it was all she could do to keep from moaning.

Holding his hand still, Rayne captured her gaze with his. The air around them shimmered with sexual arousal as he leaned closer.

“I want to taste you everywhere….”

He bent down to her, breathing in the heat and wet scent of her body, then pressed his mouth against her mound, kissing her cleft. “You’re so sweet and tempting.”

Madeline moaned aloud as ravenous hunger swept through her.

“Good, you’re hot for me,” he observed, his voice
deep and resonant and sexual. “That is exactly how I want you.”

His hands were on her buttocks now, his tongue lapping the wine from her feminine folds, suckling the throbbing bud of her sex. She shuddered as he feasted on her but nearly came up off the table when his tongue thrust into the hot, quivering core of her.

At her helpless response, Rayne applied himself to the task of really making her moan. He tortured her with exquisitely slow thrusts, using his tongue with devastating thoroughness. In only moments Madeline was panting, her body arching wantonly for him, her fingers clutching in his hair.

“That’s it … I want you writhing and hungry.”

“Rayne, merciful heaven, please….”

She was dimly appalled to realize she was begging. But he only held her surging body down, his mouth pressed hard to her, clearly savoring the soft cries she made, the breathless moans.

At last he relented. “Why don’t I let you come now?” he murmured before giving her one final, fierce caress with his mouth.

Madeline climaxed with a scream, her teeth bared in fierce, primitive surrender as a powerful firestorm rocked her.

For a full score of heartbeats afterward, she lay there sprawled senseless while Rayne continued to kiss her softly between her legs, absorbing the rippling aftershocks with his mouth.

“You look like a woman who has just been thoroughly pleasured,” Rayne observed finally, his tone satisfied.

“You are a fiend,” Madeline muttered, opening her eyes.

The slight curve of his lips radiated male arrogance. “No, merely a skilled sensualist.” He took her hand and brought it to his naked loins, stroking her fingers with the velvet-sheathed hardness of his arousal. “But I’m weary of exerting all the effort. It is your turn now.”

Requiring no further urging, Madeline reached for him. Her need to feel possessed by Rayne was as fierce as her desire to please him. Parting her thighs in eager welcome, she keened a soft moan as he sank his rigid shaft into the hot haven of her body. When he began to move inside her, she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips. His movements were sensual and powerfully controlled, the intensity of his expression spellbinding, his eyes hard with desire.

Yet his restraint fractured eventually, as did hers. Her blood pumping wildly, she began to jerk her hips, her whimpers turning to sobs.

“Madeline….” Rayne grated her name between his teeth, his voice harsh with the same urgency that was now knifing through her, his beautiful face taut with pleasure.

His answering growl inflamed her. She was on fire again, burning for him, and knew she couldn’t hold back much longer. She was in agony, sweet tumultuous agony. And so apparently was Rayne….

All his muscles quivered, straining with hunger, as he fought for control. When she clawed at his back, his control shattered with enough force to make his body convulse.

He exploded inside her, frantically groaning his release against her mouth. Moving with the thrusts of his
body, Madeline felt every pulse beat of his hot, shuddering climax before she erupted in her own, her inner muscles spasming again and again and again.

When it was over, he collapsed against her, his face buried in the silk of her shoulder, his breath ragged in her ear.

He held her pulsating body until the glorious waves of ecstasy finally faded. Then, weakly, Rayne eased himself off Madeline and helped her to sit up.

“I suggest we have Bramsley serve dinner,” he murmured. “I for one am famished. Lovemaking always gives me an appetite.”

Still in a love daze, Madeline felt stunned by his callous words. How could he be so cold?

When Rayne lifted her from the table so she could stand, she clutched his shoulders for support, since her limp knees wanted to buckle. Yet as she stared into his eyes, Madeline realized she hadn’t been mistaken about his detachment; Rayne was deliberately pushing her away.

It was clear she hadn’t touched any of his emotions with her attempts at seduction. If anything he was even more distant now than on their wedding night. There was passion in his touch, yet the tenderness he’d once shown her was entirely missing.

A hollow ache tightened Madeline’s chest. Rayne was an amazing lover, generous with his body but not his heart, and the way he had of holding back while giving to her carnally only underscored the vast canyon yawning between them.

Another wave of shocking longing swept over Madeline. She was desperately hungry for more than carnal pleasure with Rayne; she frightened herself with the
strength of her want. Yet she couldn’t tell him of her love, for it might drive him even further away.

Feeling unaccountably wounded, Madeline moved unsteadily over to where her dressing gown lay pooled on the floor. Picking up the garment, she drew it on to shield her nakedness—and her vulnerability.

Then she forced herself to smile at Rayne, determined to pretend that his coldness hadn’t caused her such intense pain.

“Perhaps we should dine downstairs after all,” she said lightly. “We don’t want your servants to suspect we have been making inappropriate use of this table. I will dress and meet you in the dining room in half an hour, if that is agreeable?”

“Yes, that is agreeable.”

Vowing not to show her hurt at his cool indifference, Madeline turned away and headed toward her bedchamber.

Rayne watched her leave, torn between guilt and relief. It had taken all his willpower to resist Madeline’s endearing attempts at seduction. Then she’d smiled that enchanting smile again and he was lost. When he’d made love to her, he felt her warmth, her wetness pulling him deeper and deeper. He wanted to impale her until he drowned in her.

Clenching his teeth, Rayne swiftly began to dress. He was losing the battle with himself, despite the memory of his past betrayal. He would have to gird his loins much more forcefully, so to speak.

He pulled on his pantaloons with a jerk, reminding himself of all the reasons he had to be wary of Madeline. She hadn’t drugged his wine as another female spy had
once done, yet she had ratcheted up her seduction with an aggressiveness that even Camille had never dared use.

Throwing on his dressing gown, Rayne stalked from the sitting room. Madeline held him trapped in a web of raw need, but it was time to break free. Tonight he would begin laying his own trap for her in order to uncover her true intentions.

Throughout dinner Madeline managed to pretend a nonchalance she didn’t feel. Rayne maintained the same cool detachment as earlier, with no intimacy or tenderness or humor or the provocative banter that had marked their relationship before their marriage.

When he announced his intention to spend the next few days in London, Madeline was not certain whether to be disappointed or relieved. At least during his absence she could take stock of her failing campaign and perhaps consult with Fanny and the Loring sisters to revise her strategy.

Surprisingly, Rayne mentioned where in his study his safe was located—hidden in the wall behind a George Stubbs painting of a Thoroughbred racehorse—and where he usually kept the key—in a jar in his bedchamber wardrobe. His good-night kiss was a bare brush of her lips, though, so Madeline retired to bed despondent.

Rayne was gone from Riverwood when she awoke the following morning. Depressed and bleary-eyed, she had to hurry to make her class at the academy on time. And
when she arrived home shortly after noon, a letter was waiting for her.

Madeline’s heart leapt when she recognized the scrawled handwriting. Gerard had finally responded to her appeals for a reply.

After handing her pelisse and bonnet to Bramsley, she went upstairs to read the missive in the privacy of her own bedchamber.

The handwriting was particularly bad, Madeline saw upon breaking the wax seal, as if her brother had scribbled in some urgency.

Maman, we taught Gerard to write better than this
was her distracted thought as she struggled to make out some of the initial words. Her heart sank with each succeeding revelation.

Madeline gave a soft cry at the thought of their dear, sweet, elderly housekeeper being tyrannized by the baron’s ruffians. Clapping her hand over her mouth, she read on.

Madeline shook her head in growing alarm, imagining the uproar at the de Vasse house if Ackerby had descended upon them with his henchmen. Lynette’s parents would have been extremely upset that their only daughter had absconded with an English farmer, gentleman or not. They might even be angry enough to disclose Gerard’s location to Ackerby.

Utterly dismayed, Madeline sank down in a chair.
Gerard, you foolish boy, what have you done?
Ackerby would not give up trying to regain his property, even by violent means.

Madeline’s hand went to her aching temple. Did Gerard actually expect her to implore Rayne for money so he could whisk the jewels out of the country? Evidently so, judging by the next paragraph.

Fear and frustration warring inside her, Madeline clenched the letter in her hand. If her brother was caught with the priceless heirloom, he could face prison or transportation or even hanging, not to mention bodily harm if the baron’s henchmen found him. Of course
Ackerby would want retribution. At this point, even if she could persuade Gerard to return the necklace immediately, it might make no difference.