Between the Devil and Desire (24 page)

“You look crestfallen,” he said near her ear.

“No, I…yes. I thought they'd be more naughty.”

He chuckled darkly. “They are. But those rooms you can't peer into, except by invitation.”

“Invitation?”

He shrugged. “Some of the men like to be watched, so we have a viewing room.”

“Why would they want to be watched?”

“I suppose they think they have something to show off.”

“Oh.” She shook her head. “I told myself I would come here and not judge, but I don't like that you use girls, that you make them—”

“I don't make them do anything they don't want to do. I pay them to keep gents company with a bit of conversation, a dance, maybe a kiss. What they do in the back rooms, that's their business and their coin.”

“But you condone the activity.”

“They're going to do it, Livy. In an alley, in a room that is neither clean nor safe. Here, at least, neither the gents nor the girls have any worries.”

“But why have them at all?”

“Because gents get lonely. And a happy gent spends more money in my establishment. Seen enough?”

She could see that she wasn't going to win this argument for now, but maybe in time…

She nodded. “I think so.”

It wasn't until they were back in the carriage headed home that Olivia asked, “How did you ever afford to open a business?”

“When I was nineteen, Beckwith came to see me. I had an anonymous benefactor who gave me ten thousand pounds. I used it to purchase the building.”

“Who was he?”

“I don't know. He was anonymous.”

“But you must have some idea. Could he have been that Feagan fellow?”

“No, running pickpockets doesn't make one wealthy.”

“Who else might it have been?”

“I always assumed he was Luke's grandfather. We didn't get along very well, and I thought he saw it as an expeditious way to get rid of me. An investment well worth making.”

“I expect you were too headstrong for him.”

“I did think my way was the best.” He chuckled, then quieted. “For an instant, the night the will was read, I had an insane notion that it was Lovingdon. But I asked Beckwith and he spouted some nonsense about holding my benefactor's secret.”

“Why would Lovingdon do that?”

“Why would he leave me his non-entailed properties?”

“If it was Lovingdon, I should think you'd find the information in his record books.”

“What record books?”

“They've kept records on everything. Every cow purchased, every horse bred, every servant hired, every salary paid. Lovingdon was obsessed with those books. I suppose in retrospect, he was scouring them in order to determine what was entailed and what was not—I can show you if you like.”

“Seems unlikely that I'd find anything, but I don't suppose it would hurt to look.”

His business beginnings and record books. She was carrying on conversations about things that had no importance while her scent wafted toward him.

“What's your opinion on Dodger's?” he asked.

Silence stretched between them while the carriage wheels rattled over the street.

Finally, she said, “It wasn't as decadent as I expected it to be.”

He wrapped his hand around her neck, slipped his thumb beneath her veil, and skimmed it over her jaw. “You sound disappointed.”

“What? No.” Then she released a self-conscious laugh. “A little, I suppose. If you want the truth, I was expecting orgies and lewd behavior and barbarism. It was all disenchantingly civilized.”

“Gents just enjoying themselves.”

“It's a shame there's not something similar for women.”

“What would you do? Serve various types of tea, discuss the merits of each?”

“We could play cards,” she said tartly, and he knew he'd offended her. “Have handsome men serving us, giving us the attention our husbands do not.”

He stilled his thumb. “You have someone here willing to give you the attention your husband didn't, yet you constantly retreat.”

With a sweep of his hand, he lifted the veil over her head, lowered his mouth to hers, and cursed his weakness. He'd sworn that he'd not settle for a kiss. But suddenly it was torturous to go so long without even a taste of her. It pleased him immeasurably that she returned the kiss with fervor equal to his. He knew she wanted him. Where did she find the restraint to continually say no?

Chipping away at years of proper behavior required
a man who possessed a good deal more patience than Jack had. He wanted what he desired as soon as he realized he wanted it. He supposed she found him equally frustrating, with his years of improper behavior that she wanted to correct.

Perhaps she was having some influence over him after all. Aware that she'd enter the house and some servants would still be about, he didn't take down her hair or unbutton her bodice. He didn't take liberties that would leave her panting and short of breath.

He dragged his mouth to the sensitive spot near her ear, felt the thrumming of her pulse beneath his tongue. “You see, I can be civilized. Tell me you don't want me to be.”

“I don't know anymore. I can't think when you do that.”

“That says it all, doesn't it? You belong”—he startled to a stop, the words
with me
dangling on his tongue—“in my bed.”

Desire fled, replaced by an almost overwhelming need to run.

J
ack stood at the window in his bedchamber, gazing out on the night. Whatever was the matter with him? When had he begun to think of Livy as
his
?

He could never marry her. He could never make her respectable. Marriage alone to him would be enough to lower her in the eyes of Society. He could have her for perhaps two years, while she was in mourning. And then he'd have to let her go. Her and Henry. He'd obtain the last item, of “immeasurable worth,” and in time, he'd no longer think about them.

But for now she was all he thought about.

When the door leading into the dressing room opened, his heartbeat kicked up a notch and he slowly turned. She stood in her nightgown, her hair unbound, her small feet bare, her toes curling into the carpet, her hands folded primly in front of her, trepidation clearly visible on her face.

“I'm not quite sure how to do this,” she said quietly. “I'm not sure how to go about seducing you.”

“Seducing me?” He released a bark of laughter, saw the hurt flash over her features, and closed the distance separating them in four long strides. He took her soft
face between his roughened hands. “Livy, you've been seducing me since that first night.”

He kissed her forehead. “I find your defiance exciting.”

He kissed her temple. “I find your temper thrilling.”

He kissed her cheek. “I find your love for Henry humbling.”

He pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “I find your laughter enchanting.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Your eyes mesmerize me and your kisses have the power to bring me to my knees.”

He watched as the doubt in her golden eyes turned to certainty. She gave him an impish smile. “I forbid you to make love to me.”

His mouth went dry at her words. He'd never made love to a woman. He'd bedded many. The sex had been satisfying. But to make love, he hardly knew where to begin, but it was a gift she deserved. It was what he wanted to give to her. She was unlike any woman he'd ever known. She'd come to him with no expectation of receiving coins. What she was offering to him was far more valuable than anything he could ever give to her.

“I've warned you, sweetheart, to never forbid me. You'll only make me do it.”

And with that, he took her mouth as tenderly as he was able, but tenderness was foreign to him. With the first taste of her, the hunger he'd been holding at bay broke free with a fierceness that astounded him. He wanted to clearly see what clothing and shadows had kept from him.

Without tearing his mouth from hers, he lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and set her on her feet beside it. She swayed, and he drew her near, allowing her to take strength from him.

Olivia had felt the power of his passion in the garden. Still it astounded her that it could be so forceful, could weaken her so easily. She grew so hot that it was almost as though she were taking ill again. And her legs were quivering. If his arms weren't around her, she thought she might simply melt into the floor.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, skimmed her fingers up into his thick hair, hair that suddenly didn't seem too long. She wanted to bury her face in it, and she thought that perhaps before the night was over she might.

Jack withdrew from the kiss, trailing his mouth along her jaw as though he were reluctant to leave her lips, didn't want his mouth far from hers. She lifted her chin, giving him easier access to her throat, and a small whimper escaped. His velvety touch teased and cajoled. “Ah, Livy, Livy.” His voice was low, seductive, and she knew she would follow it to whatever sins it led her.

She felt his mouth brushing over her shoulders and only then did she remember that he had a pickpocket's fingers and light touch. He'd worked her buttons free from throat to stomach and she'd not even noticed. And now the gown was sliding off her shoulders, gliding to the floor.

She had a second to consider that she should feel a need to cover herself and then she was considering nothing at all except for the wondrous sensations of his mouth playing over her breasts: tasting, licking, suck
ling. All the while, he murmured that she was “beautiful. So beautiful.”

Without warning, he swept her up into his arms and laid her on the bed. As soon as his arms were no longer around her, he was tearing at his clothing, hastily discarding each piece until they were nothing more than a crumpled bundle on the floor.

She barely had time to appreciate the magnificence of him before he was placing a knee on the bed and coming for her, like some large predatory cat, with intent and the knowledge that the prey could not escape.

She didn't want to escape. She opened her arms to him, touching what she'd only seen that long-ago morning in the dressing room. He was a young man and his body reflected the strength of youth. Firm muscles, taut skin. And flexibility.

He'd stretched out beside her, the hand bearing the brand wrapping over her hip, almost with significance, as he twisted his body and laid a kiss on her stomach. He nibbled his way up to her breasts, kissing the inside of one, then the other, giving equal attention to each. She thought she should have been prepared for the pleasures rippling through her.

Was it the forbidden that heightened the pleasure? Was it the taste of sin that made her so much more aware of her body's awakening? Or was it simply that he had the devil's own touch, that he had the power and the knowledge to bring forth carnal delights?

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, his back. She held him close while he ravished her breasts. His bristled jaw prickled, adding to the sensations. Her hips turned toward him of their own accord.

He skimmed his hand down her hip, her thigh, and brought it around to rest heavily between her legs, his fingers gliding intimately—

She gasped as the pleasure spiked.

He lifted his head, studying her. He glided his finger over her, eliciting another cry, her legs squeezing together as though to hold him there or perhaps to urge him on.

“I want to watch you, Livy,” he whispered roughly. “I want to see what the darkness of the garden kept from me. Let go, Livy. Let go.”

She shook her head fiercely, but he gave her no respite. He returned his mouth to her breasts while his fingers worked their magic. When she was close, so very close, he stopped to ease up, roll between her thighs, and take her mouth as though he owned it. His tongue probed and explored as though he didn't know every intimate corner, while she returned the favor with more boldness than she ever had. She loved his flavor, loved the scent of him heated by their passion. His skin was hot and velvety beneath her fingers, dampened by a light coating of dew.

He rose above her and she might have been frightened by what she saw in his eyes if she didn't know him as well as she did. It was almost animalistic, barbaric.

She felt him testing her readiness, and she immediately tensed.

“Shh, shh, gentle now,” he whispered near her ear, and she wasn't certain if the words were for her or himself.

He glided his hand down her side, over her hip,
around her thigh, and he urged her to open herself more fully.

Then she felt him pushing into her, inch by delicious inch, the fullness of him stretching her further, increasing the pleasure tightening low in her belly. When she thought she could take no more, he lifted her hips slightly, shifted his weight, and buried himself completely into her, bowing her back with the exquisite sensation of feeling his weight pressing against her.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

Threading his fingers through hers, he moved her hands so they rested on either side of her head while he rode her unmercifully, mercifully. Her body sang to his tune, pleasures rippling through her, increasing in intensity as his powerful thrusts moved not only her, but the bed.

His groans echoed around her, harsh, yet satisfying, and she heard her answering moans. The pleasure became almost unbearable. She wanted to close her eyes, but he was so beautiful, so magnificent to watch, his jaw clenched, his smoldering gaze locked onto hers. She'd never before felt this connection with anyone—that wherever they went they went together.

He was a devil, tempting her, demanding with every stroke of his body against hers that she surrender. And surrender she did, not only her body, but her heart and her soul.

He cried out, his thrusts going deeper, so deep that she wondered how she'd survive—

Then the cataclysm hit, her body tightening around him even as she arched beneath him, catapulting her into never-imagined pleasure. She had no choice except
to close her eyes as the sensations rocked her. Her last thought as she shot into oblivion was that she'd vastly underestimated the benefits of being with a man whose life was devoted to carnal intrigue.

 

Raised up on an elbow, stretched out alongside Livy, Jack fought not to think about what had just happened. He'd never in his life experienced anything so intense, so gratifying. Even their encounter in the garden, for all its splendor, paled when compared to the reality of taking her in his bed. Watching her as she peaked, with lamplight flickering, had served to enhance his own pleasure.

He didn't fool himself regarding what had transpired here. She might want him for a bit of sport, but she was nobility, while he was gutter trash. They would never have more than this. And with that thought came an unexpected sharp pain in the center of his chest.

Never before had he felt so much a part of something, of someone. It terrified him to feel this closeness, he who'd always worked so hard to maintain his distance. She'd effectively knocked down his walls. If he thought about it too hard or too long, he'd gather up his clothes and leave, never to return.

If he cared for her as much as he suspected he did, that's exactly what he'd do. Leave, now that he'd had a taste of her, and do all in his power to find her a proper husband. Instead he recklessly trailed his finger between her small breasts, gathering up the dew that lingered there, and said, “You're not going to sleep, are you?”

Slowly she rolled her head from side to side where it rested on the pillow. “You're very good at this.”

He laughed softly, taking his fingers across her shoulders from one side to the other. He thought he'd never get enough of just touching her. “It appears, based on your body's responses, I invested my money wisely.”

She furrowed her brow. “You pay for it?”

“Always.” He shrugged. “Except for tonight.”

“Why?”

“Why I did before? Or why I didn't tonight?”

“Before.”

How to explain without sounding callous. “Because I wanted no emotional entanglements. It was always business. Some business ventures are more enjoyable than others.” And some rewards were intangible.

“Have you been in this bed before?” He didn't know why he asked or why the answer mattered.

“Only once, when you brought me.” With her hand, she cradled his cheek. Covering her hand with his, he turned his face into her palm and kissed it.

She rolled into him. Reaching down, he whipped back the sheet gathered at her waist. She kicked it down farther, until nothing separated them, until their naked bodies were pressed together.

“I'm sure it's in bad form to talk of another man, but I want—I need—you to know that it was never like this with him.”

He didn't know what to say to that, so he simply kissed her palm again, then her fingers.

“It was so very impersonal, which always struck me as odd for such a personal act. And I never, I never realized that I should actually enjoy it. You are really quite remarkable, Jack Dodger.”

Again, he was left with nothing to say. He dipped his head and took her mouth as he intended to take her body, with a bit more patience this time, a more leisurely pursuit of pleasure.

Her hand stroked his chest, almost tentatively, as though she thought he might break. He drew back and studied her. The wonder was still there, a wonder he'd never known because it had been stripped of him at an early age.

“As tonight appears to be a rather new experience for you, you should know that I will not break and that there is no part of me that you are not welcome to explore.”

Her gaze traveled the length of his body, her cheeks turning a rosy hue. Her hand glided down, wrapped around him, and he couldn't stop the low moan of satisfaction.

He kissed her, rolling onto his back as he did so, giving her easier access to learn the various textures of his body.

With each passing moment, her hands became less tentative as her confidence grew. She touched, she stroked. She broke off the kiss to rain smaller kisses over his chest. She flicked her tongue over his hardened nipple, and his body jerked. He rammed his hands through her hair, holding her close, encouraging her with sweet words and low moans.

When he could stand it no more, he eased her over him until she was straddling his hips, her hair forming a curtain around her shoulders.

“Don't look so shocked,” he said.

“I don't think this is proper.”

“Sweetheart, nothing we've done tonight is proper.” While he'd meant to tease, he regretted his words as soon as they were spoken, because he saw in her eyes the hint of shame. “Don't, Livy.”

She raised her gaze to his.

“Don't regret any of this.”

She shook her head, but he could see the damage was done. He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her down to his chest, holding her close.

“You'll never tell anyone, will you?” she whispered after a time.

“No.”

She lifted her head, digging her chin into his chest. “I don't regret what passed between us, but I suppose a small part of me knows it was wrong.”

With his fingers, he combed back her hair. “How can it be wrong when it's what two people want?”

“But there will never be more than this between us.”