Authors: Scottie Barrett
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Regency
“I suppose I’m to lock myself in my room naked until she arrives?” “No, I expect you to stay in
my
room naked for the week.”
She couldn’t have understood him correctly. “Pardon?”
“If I’m to hire you for my aunt’s dubious scheme, I’d like to see just how capable you are.”
“Exactly what does that mean?”
“I intend to fuck you, Miss Calloway.”
Lord Marcliffe was studying her a little too carefully. She suspected he was expecting she’d lose her nerve. He casually combed back his windblown hair with his fingers. How on earth could someone be that handsome and that cruel? “I detest you!”
“Yes, you’ve made that clear.”
“I thought I was to be transformed into a mistress, not a whore.” “To my mind, there is only the finest line between the two.”
“Don’t you think you are taking this a little too far? I only needed someone to pretend to be my lover.”
“So you were just going to pretend with Sloan, as well?” With his tinderbox, he began lighting the candles studding the enormous candelabrum on the entrance hall table.
Tess chose to ignore his barb. She was determined not to think of Sloan until the dreaded moment came. She started up the stairs. “Go away. I will manage this myself.”
“Ah, then you are prepared to pay the modiste and the rent on the London townhouse?”
She paused. Her pulse beat in her throat and in the palm of her hand where it clutched the railing. She glanced over her shoulder at him. He already had the candelabrum in hand, clearly intent on illuminating their way to his chambers. His jaw was set in a stubborn, firm line.
His question, of course, was rhetorical. She had no options but to obey him. Why waste breath on futile arguments? The whole plan would collapse without his aid. “Fine then, we’ll do it your way.”
She heard him snap his fingers to keep the dogs from following. Her back stiffened as she sensed him behind her. “I know you think to dissuade me with this threat, but it will not work.”
On unsteady legs she made her way down the hall to his chambers. All she could think after he’d closed them both in the room was that the man had a heart of black ice. He set the candelabrum atop the night table, but the glowing lights did not add cheer.
She turned to him with a defiant smile.
His head tilted slightly to the side, an odd, rather boyish expression on his face.
Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to submit. Wouldn’t he be shocked, she thought, to know that she would have eagerly acceded to his demands if he hadn’t approached it in such a high-handed manner?
The glint of surprise winked out of his dark blue eyes almost immediately. “Confident little baggage, aren’t you?” he said.
“I intend to succeed at this, no matter what it entails.” Her body, though, seemed to have different ideas. For all her bravado, she found herself back at the door, her hand on the latch. “First, may I get you something to eat?” she asked, hoping that acting the good hostess could forestall things.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Whiskey?” A hint of desperation broke through the light tone she attempted. “I don’t want food, or drink, or a smoke. Just get in bed.”
Was she going to be the only one naked in this enterprise? He hadn’t even taken the knot out of his cravat. Perhaps this truly was a test with no real interest or passion on his part. “Is this how you do it then? Only the woman undresses?”
“Not normally.” The muscle in his jaw twitched. “But I know my scars disturb you.” He lifted his gaze from her body and stared into her eyes. He seemed to accuse her of callousness.
“What gave you the notion that they disturbed me? It is only that I had never seen the like. They are fascinating and frightening all at the same time.”
Lord Marcliffe studied her from beneath heavy lids. He did not take her words as an invitation to remove a single article of clothing. She had to commend herself on being quite the seductress.
Apparently, he was expecting
her
to initiate the session. Tess moved toward him. “Somehow, this wool blanket does not add to the passion of the moment.” With a
flick of his wrist, he removed the blanket and threw it halfway across the room.
His hungry gaze slid over her. “I’ll be damned. It seems every layer I peel off reveals something astonishing.”
Her nipples puckered in response. Wedging her bare feet between his Hessians, she rubbed up against the fine fabric of his coat. The man was so compelling that she could almost forgive his arrogant behavior. Had her heart ever beaten so fast? Lord Marcliffe, even fully clothed, was the most tempting man she could imagine. But it wouldn’t serve
to let on that she found him irresistible. She had to match his callous indifference with her own.
He dipped his head suddenly, and she turned her face away before he could press his lips to hers. Hadn’t Miss Midwinter mentioned that he preferred the sex act without kissing? Besides, she didn’t want to open her heart to him and somehow kissing seemed more intimate than anything else they might engage in tonight.
“Shall we proceed?” she said.
He traced her collarbone with his finger. “How would you like it, sweeting?” Her eyes fluttered shut with the pleasure of his touch.
“Against the wall perhaps? Like a waterfront doxy.” His harsh words were like a splash of cold water. Obviously he was determined to make this as difficult as possible.
“Perfect,” she shot back. Tess gave him an insolent look. If he thought he was going to intimidate her out of this, he was wrong. Unfortunately, she could not stop from trembling beneath his intense gaze. For a fleeting moment, she believed she saw tenderness in his eyes.
Only wishful thinking
, she chided herself. His gaze dropped from her face and raked the length of her naked form. There was no mistaking this look. It was decidedly carnal, completely possessive and wholly without mercy.
His hands spread over her bottom and pulled her against his muscular body. Something dauntingly big and hard pressed against her stomach. He lowered his mouth to hers.
She turned her face again. “No need,” she said. “I’m aware you don’t care for kissing.”
He seemed amused. “Is that so?”
“Your mistress complained to her friend, Lydia Midwinter. Besides, Lydia said that unless I wanted to lose my heart to some cold-blooded man—” With the last words she gave him a pointed look. “—it’s best, when given the option, to not practice it much.” Quite possibly, she’d drive him off soon with all this blather. “Not that there is a chance that I could ever fall in love with you,” she added to make certain everything was perfectly clear.
She could see in the set of his jaw that the last of her feather-brained speech had angered him.
He lifted her up, walked her over to the bed and plopped her unceremoniously in the center of it.
She lay back and propped her head on the pillow. Her nakedness made her extremely self-conscious. She kept her legs pressed together, her arms at her sides, fists clenched.
His mouth quirked into a nasty smile. “Midwinter is quite the tutor. Sloan would be laughing hysterically and kicking you out on the street by now.”
From the night table, he removed a flask of liquor and made a wordless offer of it. Like a woman dying in the desert, she seized it. She took three greedy swallows of the stinging liquid.
He plucked the flask from her. Raising his brows, he gave it a shake as if measuring the contents. “Damn, I merely intended to loosen you up, not knock you senseless.” He capped the bottle and tossed it aside.
Grabbing one of her ankles, he pulled her toward the end of the bed. Her legs now dangled over the edge. She propped herself on her elbows. He placed her feet on the edge of the bed and then spread her knees apart. All the erotic pictures in the world could not have prepared her for this experience. With shock, she realized she could see herself in the full-length mirror across the way. She thought she could see everything until with his thumb and forefinger he spread her nether lips wide, exposing the pink folds of her sex. He turned his head and his eyes met hers in the mirror. The look he gave her was so intense she was sure she would swoon.
This was all happening too fast. She tried to push her knees together. With a rather rough grip on her leg, he hooked one ankle on the outside of the bedpost. She was completely open and exposed to him. The night air whispered over her flesh but could not cool the heat pulsing between her legs. The alcohol was already working, helping to lessen her inhibitions.
Lord Marcliffe’s thick black lashes fluttered downward. His eyes were now focused with a heart-pounding intensity on the pink, swollen lips that lay beneath the golden curls. His breath sounded ragged.
“You have a beautiful cunt.”
This wasn’t all business to him after all.
She stayed propped on her elbows watching in the mirror as he stroked the pink, increasingly moist folds of her quim. He pinched the small, protruding nub and an exquisite sensation thrummed through her. With the callused pad of his thumb, he stroked her there, over and over again until she was shaking. Tess was frustrated that he was still fully clothed. She wished she could touch the naked muscles of his shoulder and to see his black hair graze the bare skin of his neck.
Her arms gave out, and she collapsed back onto the soft mattress. He loomed over her. She watched with shock as he brought his fingers dipped with the cream he’d inspired to his lips. He smiled a devil’s smile. And then he dropped to his knees between her trembling thighs. His teeth clamped gently down on her nub, and he nibbled. Tess thought she would die from the fierce pleasure.
Modesty propelled her to bring her legs together again. His black hair felt like silk against her skin. He brought her hands down and placed them on her inner thighs.
“Keep your legs splayed for me,” he commanded.
Tess obeyed him as spasm after spasm made her clench her quim against the delicious onslaught of his tongue delving into her inner folds and then licking up inside her. He dipped his finger again into the cream, which dripped down to the crack between her buttocks. Then he inserted the tip of his finger into her tight, puckered hole while his rigid tongue thrust into her quim. He pushed his finger in deeper and deeper still, until it was completely inside her.
At the invasion, Tess’s body shivered with ecstasy. All her senses were concentrated on his long finger impaling her anus and his tongue dipping into her. He pulled his finger out and then thrust it in again, pushing it farther still. A foreign, exquisitely sweet feeling shuddered through her body. Releasing his hold on her, he finally allowed her to bring her knees together. She turned to her side, curling in on herself, the delicious sensation still pulsing through her body. Obviously, he was one of the good men whom Lydia Midwinter had mentioned. She glanced up at him and noticed that his gaze had not softened and amended her thought immediately. He had clearly not satisfied himself.
Weakly, she crawled beneath the quilts. He finally threw off his coat and waistcoat and untied his cravat. In invitation, she peeled back the cover beside her. She wanted to be held. All of sudden, she was desperate to be close to him. After he had thoroughly explored every inch of her, the only touch that seemed important to her now was to be wrapped within his arms. Instead, he sprawled into the chair near the bed, his mood dark and forbidding. Her heart ached.
“As enticing as you are, you are a novice in the art of seduction. A man like Sloan would see through the ruse immediately.”
It was a devastating comment. Clearly, nothing about the experience had pleased him. “But that is unfair. You gave me no chance to seduce you. Perhaps I need someone to teach me how to handle a man.”
“You are looking at the someone.”
“I meant someone kinder.”
“Go to sleep,” he said, his voice raw with some indefinable emotion.
The harsh regard of those dark blue eyes was the last thing Tess remembered before falling asleep.
Tess stretched, the fine linen sliding over her naked body. The sheets on his side of the bed remained untouched. Sadly, she had been the only occupant of the bed last night. Thrown over the back of the chair where he’d taken up his vigil was his greatcoat. She remembered with a blush that besides his gloves and cravat, the coat was the only thing he’d removed. She stuck her arm out from beneath the warmth of the coverlet and dragged the heavy wool garment atop the bed. Burying her face in the coat, she breathed in his scent. She’d done it now. All her resolve to seduce Sloan and bring him to justice seemed insignificant in comparison to her feelings for Lord Marcliffe.
Still under the covers, she slipped her arms into the sleeves before braving the chill air in the chamber. The coat weighed down her shoulders as she wrapped it around her and fastened the cravat at her waist. The sound of a whip cracking startled her and she moved to the window to pull back the heavy damask curtains.
Lord Marcliffe exercised his massive horse on a long tether. Tess flinched as he cracked the whip against the dirt and the stallion arched its back and leaped into the air.
The whip slapped the ground again. The menacing sound made her feel jittery. His control over the horse brought to mind his mastery of her body. She yearned to experience him again. Restless and hungry, Tess decided to make breakfast.
Once in the kitchen, she folded deeper cuffs in the sleeves to keep them from the flame and put the kettle on to boil. She rolled out a batch of scones and whipped some honey into clotted cream. Her mind was so preoccupied with the godlike earl who’d knelt between her legs that she ended up baking enough for a small regiment.
The door opened and she heard his boots on the stairs. He sounded as if he were taking them two at a time. Suddenly, the hunger was gone and her stomach was twisting into knots. Her hands trembled as she placed several scones and a bowl of clotted cream onto a tray. Swallowing hard, she tried to work up the courage to face him. She felt feverish just thinking about his tongue caressing her so intimately. He bellowed her