Twilight with the Infamous Earl (15 page)

“You, sir, are no gentleman,” she said, glaring at him. How could she be so happy to see him when he was so maddening?

“No, you called me a scoundrel and you are correct. I have little respect for rules unless they are my own. I don’t play fair.” His turquoise-blue gaze glowed in the candlelight. “And you are completely at a disadvantage when you tangle with me.”

He was blatantly honest for a scoundrel. “So how does a lady best you?”

“You don’t,” he said with his usual bluntness. “However, there might be way for both of us to win.”

“How so?”

He offered her one of his angelic smiles. “Despite your initial anger, you are pleased to see me.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he countered. “Do you know how I can tell?”

The question seemed innocent enough, but she sensed a trap. “No,” she said, nibbling on the bait anyway.

Frost patted the mattress, inviting her to sit beside him. She moved closer, wondering how long he had been in her room. Had he watched over her as she slept? He had managed to slip into her bed, and she had been blissfully unaware until he had decided to wake her.

How often did he slip into bedchambers?

Emily wasn’t certain she wanted to know the answer to that particular question. She sat down on the mattress.

“That’s more comfortable.” He took her hand. It was then that she noticed that his hands were as bare as hers. “If I were a gentleman, I would tell you that I saw your delight in your expressive face and eyes. However, you are aware of my true nature so I feel free to reveal the truth.” He paused, as if he was trying not to laugh. “It was your body.”

“My—” She glanced down at the blanket wrapped around her. “What?”

Laughter bubbled forth like a natural spring. “Forgive me. It was rude of me to look, but you aren’t wearing stays. In fact, you aren’t wearing much at all.”

Emily huffed and offered him her back as she opened the blanket that covered her breasts. Even she could not ignore how her nipples poked at the fabric of her nightgown or the dark shadow of the hair between her legs.

“You are despicable.”

“If you say so,” he happily agreed. “I think you are beautiful.”

Emily repositioned the blanket before she shifted around to face him again. Good grief, how could any man be so handsome? How could any lady resist him when he was being so charming?

She stilled.

Was she following the same path as Lucy?

“Stop it,” he ordered.

Emily scowled at him. “I beg your pardon?”

Frost scooted closer to her so he could cup her face with his hands. “Stop thinking. Your assumptions always get you in trouble.”

“How do you know?

He rolled his eyes. “You are as guileless as a babe, Emily. I can see the questions and doubt and, yes, even fear in your hazel eyes.” His thumb caressed her chin. “I wasn’t thinking about the right or wrong of it when I came here this evening. I just needed to see you. I couldn’t allow Lucy’s last coherent word stand between us, especially when it is a lie.”

Emily had observed the incensed disbelief on his face when she had told him. His reaction had not been feigned. It was her feelings for him and her sister that had muddled her brain. “Frost—”

He silenced her with his thumb. “Hush. Just listen. I was telling you the truth. Aye, I knew Lucy. I had encountered her on several occasions. She was beautiful, seemed to gather a small flock of admirers wherever she went, which suited her because she was a consummate flirt.”

Taking exception to the last part, Emily’s lips parted to chastise him. “I—”

“I’m not finished,” he said brusquely, but his fingers caressed her cheek in apology for the anger she heard in his voice. “Lucy was never my lover. You have to believe me.”

God help her, she wanted to believe him. “Frost, your name was the last word she spoke before she died.”

Frustration darkened his face. “Is it possible that you misheard her?”

Emily shook her head.

Frost brought his hand to his face and pressed his fingers to his eyebrows as if his head was paining him. His hand fell away and his eyes snapped open, locking on to hers. “I have no explanation as to why your sister said my name. I need you to believe me when I swear to you that I was not the man who seduced and abandoned her.”

“I do,” she said, gasping when he pulled her to him and roughly embraced her. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t—?”

“Bed your sister? While it pains me to tarnish my rather notorious reputation as a first-rate scoundrel—I couldn’t.”

Belatedly, Emily noticed that Frost was dressed in his evening clothes. Had he attended a ball? Had he been searching for her? Or perhaps black seemed appropriate since he had recently taken up the occupation of housebreaker.

“It is inappropriate to ask, but I must know—why couldn’t you? Lucy was so beautiful.” Emily could have flogged herself for reminding him of her sister’s beauty.

A small, selfish part of her was so jealous that Lucy had the pleasure of meeting Frost first that she did not know whether she could bear it if he agreed with her.

Tenderness softened the harsh lines in his face. “Isn’t it obvious, Miss Emily Cavell … I was waiting for you.”

Frost slowly lowered his head until their lips were an inch apart. “May I kiss you?”

He was asking for permission? She suspected that when it came to women, he always took what he wanted. Their previous kisses confirmed it. His gaze ensnared her, silently begging her to grant him the liberties he craved.

It was difficult to nod with his hands caging her face. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

Emily started at the electrical spark that stung her upper lip when he brushed his lips against hers.

“The blanket,” she laughed, thinking of the friction game she had played with her siblings when she was younger. Wool blankets were rather effective for generating the painful spark.

His beautiful hands drifted down to her shoulders. “Let’s get rid of it,” Frost said, slipping it from her shoulders. Nor did he give her a chance to remember that her nightgown did a poor job concealing her body. His mouth was as powerful as the jars of mysterious potent powders the chemist on Bond Street stored on his shelves.

Emily felt drugged as his lips rubbed and nibbled. It seemed natural to part her lips and allow his tongue to slide against her own. It was a lazy sensual dance of flesh as he murmured his approval when she mimicked his actions.

She felt the mattress hit her back. She had not even realized she was falling. Frost followed her, pressing her into the comforting softness of her bed. As she arched up to capture his lips again, the hand curving around her hip gradually slid up her waist, and then upward to the underside of her breast.

“Damn!”

Emily opened her eyes, but he was already gone. She rolled onto her stomach to see him head for the door. The sound of the lock clicking into place guaranteed their privacy. Through slumberous eyes she watched him remove his black evening coat. Next, his waistcoat. Both garments ended up on the seat of the chair.

Frost returned to the bed. He offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Now, where was I?”

Emily rolled onto her back and laughed. “I believe you were here.” She was planning to touch her lips but changed her mind. Impulsively, she reached for his hand and brought it to her waist. It seemed too brazen to place it on her breast.

“Ah, yes,” he said, the anticipation in his voice making her blush. “Though I was thinking about placing my hand … here.”

“Oh.” She squirmed as his fingers measured the shape and fullness of her left breast.

“And this.” He lowered his head, and she felt the warmth of his breath over her nipple.

The sensitive flesh pebbled in response. Emily moaned as he dampened the thin fabric of her nightgown with an open kiss over her nipple. She felt the flat rasp of the side of his tongue and shuddered.

“Breathe, Emily,” he teased. He unfastened the glass buttons at her throat. “I don’t want you to faint on me.”

He flashed a wicked grin at her as he shifted to pay attention to her other breast. “At least, not yet.”

Could a lady faint from pleasure?

*   *   *

Emily is a virgin, gent.

Frost knew he should keep his hands off her, but he couldn’t resist tasting her. The thin linen of her nightgown moistened against his tongue. As a rule, it was wise to stay away from innocents. The chits were too young to understand the difference between lust and love, and the consequences of surrendering to their passions.

The tragic tale usually ended with angry fathers and threats of marriage. Aye, for a man who did not have marriage on his mind, it was better to pursue ladies who understood the difference.

Like the wenches Ravens had pushed at him.

Frost had felt their eager hands on him and seen the lust in their eyes, and he wanted nothing to do with them. He wanted Emily. He would gladly trade a taste of the woman he desired for a night of wicked shagging with twenty women.

The insight thumped him like a rock on the head.

He lifted his face from her breast and stared into Emily’s hazel gaze. Green and gold melded into brown, and her shy wonderment made him dizzy. He could kill for this woman, he thought. Smite any man for touching her.

Christ, he should have one of his friends beat him for dallying with her. “You should tell me to leave,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Here.” Emily tugged at the ends of his cravat. “Your valet must have been tied this with his eyes closed.”

One of the women at Ravens’s house had ruined the pressed folds and knot, and in his haste to leave he had clumsily retied it. He had not even bothered with the buttons on his shirt.

The thought of Emily touching the other woman’s handiwork seemed abhorrent. He sat up on his knees. “Allow me,” he said, tearing at the knot and half choking himself. He offered her a lopsided grin as he gathered up the length of fabric and threw it over the side of the bed. With his fingers, he reached for the edge of his collar and pulled, popping the remaining buttons from their moorings.

Emily giggled as the glass buttons struck the floor. “Your tailor must adore you.”

“Everyone adores me, my dear lady,” he teased, bending down to kiss her on the mouth. “Now stop distracting me. Seducing you takes all of my wits, and you have a bad habit of scattering them.”

“How am I to blame?” she sputtered, laughing hysterically when he caressed her stomach with his fingers. “Stop … that tickles!”

Frost braced his left arm above her head. “Well, that won’t do,” he said, deliberately tickling her again. “I was seeking a different response from you.”

To test her resolve and his, he flattened his hand on her lower belly. The muscles rippled beneath her flesh as she tried not to laugh. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips as he slid his hand lower to the shadowed apex of her thighs.

Emily sucked in her breath as he stroked her. He kept his touch light, reverent. He did not wish to frighten her.

“Does this feel good?”

She nodded wordlessly. Her body was a temple that was fashioned to be worshiped. Frost kissed her belly. His tongue traced the diameter of the indentation of her navel. Her muscles contracted, but this time she didn’t giggle. Distracted by his sensual ministrations, she had not noticed that he had pushed the hem of her nightgown higher, exposing most of her thigh. His fingers quested farther until he reached the copper curls that concealed the soft feminine folds between her legs.

Emily held her breath at his tentative caress.

“Breathe,” he reminded her again. His own breath caught in his chest when he took in the heady musk of her arousal. Tucked away in his trousers, his cock lengthened and hardened until it was impossible to conceal the evidence of his lust.

Despite her innocence, Emily desired him. Her body responded so sweetly to his touch that he wanted to howl like an animal heavy with need for his mate. He wanted to roll her over and cover her with his body while his fingers parted her folds and readied her for his cock.

“Frost,” she gasped, nearly sitting up when he penetrated her with his finger. She tried to cover herself when he eased her back onto the bed.

“Let me touch you,” he murmured, calming her with kisses. “There is no reason to fear the pleasure I can give you.”

To prove it, he stroked her and she trembled. Modesty caused her to press her thighs together, thus trapping his hand. “I will not take anything that you are not willing to give. There are ways I can pleasure you that will not take your innocence.”

The pressure of her thighs eased, but she had yet to open to him fully. “I don’t know about this, Frost,” she said, her eyes dark with fear and arousal. “My sister—”

She was worried that she might end up a ruined lady like her sister. Not that he could blame her. It had ended badly for Lucy. And while he had not slipped into her bedchamber to steal her virginity, he was honest enough to admit that he was sorely tempted to toss aside his good intentions and honor.

His body ached for completion. He longed to strip off the rest of his clothes, part her hips with his body, and push his cock into her wet sheath. He wanted to be the man to rid Emily of her maidenhead so he could fill her, savoring her first taste of passion, and show her that he could take her to those lofty heights again. Over and over, until his cries of completion mingled with hers.

“Only pleasure, Emily,” he said, amused that he sounded so damn honorable. In truth, touching her would bring him pleasure, as well. He wiggled his fingers to remind her that his hand was still buried in her nest of curls. “I will halt on your orders. I promise.” He gave her a pained smile. “But only if you mean it.”

“Already adding conditions to your promise, I see,” she said with a tremulous smile.

“Well, I am only looking after your best interests, my dear,” Frost lightly teased.

Emily managed to startle him by reaching out suddenly and touching his cheek. “I trust you, Frost.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. It was sweetly chaste, and he felt it all the way down to his knees.