Carnal Deceptions (17 page)

He tugged it easily out of her grasp and tossed it aside. “Tell me what really happened.”

She sighed heavily. “Obviously I’m a far better pickpocket than a liar. Your aunt had nothing to do with it. I was the distraction,” she said. “There were fireworks and I pretended to be startled by the bang.” Suddenly, she gasped as though startled and clutched at Tallon. His eyes narrowed with distrust as she rose up on tiptoes. He was far taller than Sloan, so she wrapped one hand around his neck and tugged his face closer.

“And I kissed him,” she said against his mouth, her lips so close they brushed his. She could feel his neck tense beneath her fingers. Immediately, she released her hold on

him and took a step back. She showed him the watch she’d plucked from his pocket. It was still attached by a chain to his waistcoat. Her fingers had not been clever enough to unhook the latch.

She shrugged and tucked it back in his pocket.

“Damn it.” He peeled open a corner of the package and a peculiar exotic aroma settled in the air between them. “Opium,” he said. He’d identified the substance too quickly in her estimation. Another sign that he’d experienced much of the dark, seamier side of life. “And Sloan intends to sell this in China. Sloan has always had a fascination with such substances.” He shoved the package into his coat pocket. “Have you sampled any of Sloan’s elixirs?”

“The ones that make a woman beg for a man to—to—” “To fuck her. Yes, those.”

She could feel the scarlet heat rise in her cheeks. “You cannot be serious. Your aunt accompanies me everywhere.”

“Smart woman, my aunt.”

He snatched up his candlestick, sending something clinking to the floor. Hunkering down on his heels, he cast the light over the floor. The object caught the light, and the crystalline facets winked up at them. He scooped it up.

“What’s this?” Standing, he bounced the ring off the palm of his hand. “A ring.”

“Yes, I gathered as much. Who gave it to you?” “Sloan, of course,” she said, hoping to sound offhand.

His lashes dropped, and he studied what he held. “Why, Tess?”

“It’s the silliest thing—really.” She hesitated, nibbling her bottom lip nervously. He glared at her. His eyes appeared midnight blue in the murky light.

“Sloan has proposed,” Tess said weakly.

He moved to the window and threw open the sash. Ice-cold air swept into the room, and Tess hugged the quilt around her. He stuck his hand outside, the extravagant ring merely resting on his palm. She knew without a doubt he’d have no qualms about turning his hand over and letting it drop to the brick courtyard. “Proposed what?” he asked.

“Marriage.”

“And you have accepted?”

She nodded.

He tilted back his head and looked at her suspiciously through slitted eyes. “You have no dowry, and Sloan is venal. What have you done to deserve this?” He slanted his hand so the ring slid an inch nearer to the ground.

Tess moved cautiously toward him, afraid that a sudden move might prompt him to drop the ring. She grabbed his arm with both hands, and the quilt fell away, puddling around her bare feet. His muscles were formidable, and she knew she didn’t have a prayer. But she wasn’t about to let him throw away her one chance at destroying Sloan.

“I don’t understand why you are so resentful. How can this not be a good thing? Isn’t this what your aunt wanted? I have the opportunity to find out exactly what he’s up to.” She felt his arm shake with anger beneath her fingers. Dropping her hold on him, she backed up a step.

The panes rattled as he closed the window with a bang. He took her hand and dropped the ring into it. “A truly cunning little thing. You refuse my proposal but accept my enemy’s.”

“He is my enemy, as well. Do you really think I can be bought with trinkets like this?”

She took a few tentative steps in his direction. He wrapped his hand around her arm, and, applying pressure, brought her to her knees before him.

“Convince me.”

In that position, it was instantly apparent what he wanted from her. Lady Stadwell had warned her that despite expensive clothes and arrogant manners, aristocrats were the same as any man, beasts at heart. Tess had to admit that she was especially fond of this feral side of Lord Marcliffe. He removed his pistol and placed it on the dresser. After tossing his coat aside, he pushed the braces off his shoulders.

With unsteady hands, she lowered his trousers. She fumbled with the ribbon of his drawers. She couldn’t believe how desperately she wanted to touch him. His fingers dug into her thick hair, and he tugged her upward. She resisted, remaining on her knees.

“Forget it,” he spat out. “It is apparent how distasteful a thing this is for you. A fine display of martyrdom, that.”

Clearly, he’d mistaken her nervousness for reluctance. “I want this as much as you.”

With the ribbon untied, she pulled down his drawers. His anger had not softened his needs. When she released his shaft, it sprang hugely hard and erect before her. Her

tongue flicked the slit at the tip. He leaned over and took a fistful of her chemise. She lifted her arms so he could draw it over her head. Kneeling naked at his feet, she curled her small hand around him and was rewarded with a groan of pleasure. How, she wondered, did women manage this feat? Though he was surely bigger than most.

Her lips, cold and certainly turning a shade of blue from the frigid air still hovering in the room, melted and molded around the heat of him. His body jolted as her teeth scraped lightly over him. That clumsiness had certainly proved her a novice. She would have to do better than that and soon found that love heightened one’s instincts. She cupped the sacs between his thighs. They felt luxuriously heavy in her hand. And then she took turns cradling each of his balls in her mouth. Using her tongue, she tasted them eagerly.

His thighs trembled beneath her hands. “Look at me,” he demanded, his voice gruff.

The candle had been extinguished by the flood of night air. The half-moon glazed the room in pale silver. She sat back a little on her heels, and after putting the fleshy head of his cock in her mouth to suck, she lifted her eyes. He craned his neck forward as though searching her face. His hair draped his features, making the glint of his eyes the only thing visible. If that was all she could see in this dim light, then plainly he could not see the adoration in her eyes. And she was glad of it. She had no wish to hand the man her heart on a silver platter.

His big hand cupped the back of her head, pressing her to take more of him. “Relax, sweeting.” Remembering Miss Midwinter’s instructions, she loosened her throat. She gripped his buttocks, her fingers digging into his taut muscles. He thrust forward, guiding his cock deeper.

“Tess, do you want more?”

Moaning, she clutched him closer, wanting to devour all of him.

“What a beautiful, greedy little mouth you have,” he said, his voice raw with desire.

He stroked even deeper. She could feel him at the back of her throat now.

She began working her mouth up and down the hardened length of him. And then his hands tightened on her head, stilling her movements. With smooth, delicious thrusts he took possession of her mouth and her senses. Her quim tingled with heat. She was close to climaxing from servicing him. Astonishingly, she enjoyed being used by him this way.

Tess could feel his body tense, and he gave a gallant effort to bring her to her feet. But she clung to him tighter, wanting to enjoy every last bit of the experience. She

swallowed as much as her mouth would hold, but a little of the cream spilled from her lips. Getting to her feet, she wiped the cream from her chin and licked it from her fingers.

He stared at her as he buttoned his trousers. He was looking at her as he had when she’d stripped off her frumpy disguise, as though he were seeing her anew. She felt like an exotic creature beneath his half-lidded scrutiny.

“That was your first time.” There was not a note of doubt in the statement.

It was not the reaction she was expecting. She plucked her chemise from the ground and slipped it on. “Was I terribly inept?”

Dead silence greeted her embarrassing question. She bit her lip to stop it from quivering.

Finally he spoke, his voice sounding huskier than usual. “You are…” There was a nightmarish pause. “…a very fast learner.”

She exhaled a shivering breath.
A fast learner.
That was all he had to say to her. But what had she expected from a man as hard as Lord Marcliffe? Words of love?

He sat at the edge of the bed and began pulling off his boot. He was intending to stay the night.

“Lady Stadwell will be returning from the theatre soon.”

One big black boot dropped to the floor. “My aunt goes straight to bed after a night in town. And I will be out before dawn.” The second boot dropped.

There was a scratching noise at the door. Tess quickly snatched up her heavy cashmere shawl and whipped it around her shoulders, ever conscious of the unpredictable man on her bed.

She shook her head frantically when he got to his feet. “Stay there,” she implored. “It is only Jane.”

She cracked open the door, letting a sliver of the hall lamplight in, and peered out at Jane.

“Mr. Sloan has brought your aunt home. He’s asked to see you.” “William is here in the house?”

“Not in the house, no. Cyrus made him wait on the stoop. And he isn’t happy about it. Not at all.” Jane stretched her neck, apparently hoping to see what Tess was hiding.

“You must send him away. Tell him I am sleeping.”

“Yes, miss. If he proves stubborn, I’m sure Cyrus can convince him to leave.”

Tess shut the door, thinking her night would have been far simpler if she’d just remained at the theatre. Not as exciting, though. She could still taste him. A delicious shiver ran through her. She turned to look at him. He was retrieving his pistol. The moonlight glanced dully off the pearl handle.

“For me, it is ‘my lord this’ and ‘my lord that’. But that criminal, you call by his given name. And you refuse me, but you kiss him,” Lord Marcliffe observed.

The nerve of the man, assuming a proprietary right to her lips even though he didn’t care for kissing. “It was nothing but a peck. I’m completely innocent.” She hesitated for a moment. “Well, mostly innocent.”

His expression darkened forbiddingly and she hurried to explain herself. “I did something that I am ashamed of.”

He took an intimidating step toward her.

Realizing it was like stopping an angry bull with a handkerchief, she put up her hand to hold him back. “I’m not talking about
that
. I spoke against your character to win Sloan’s approval. And I’ve felt wretched about it ever since.”

He grabbed his boots. “Pray, don’t lose any sleep over it.” Before exiting, he made certain no prying servants lingered in the hallway. With a curse, he shut the door behind him.

*

The next morning, peering in the mirror, Tess noted the dark rings under her eyes, courtesy of one Lord Marcliffe.

She found him downstairs in the library asleep in the most awkward position. His long legs, complete with boots, dangled over the arm of the settee. Scrunched forward, his chin digging into his chest, he looked thoroughly uncomfortable, and it gladdened her heart. She fought the urge to hurl a book at his black head.

With mischief on her mind, she headed down the servants’ steps to the basement. Once in the kitchen, she purposely clanged the iron brazier atop the stove, and even though she was expecting it, the jarring metallic sound made her jump. Then she filled the teakettle and banged it down hard on the stove.

All her good work had served its purpose, she thought, when he shuffled into the kitchen.

His eyes narrowed at the sight of her. “I can hear your bloody cooking upstairs,” he growled, pressing his temples with his forefingers. “My God, woman, you torture me in my dreams and in my waking hours.”

“Oh really? I am in your dreams, am I?” She tried not to sound too pleased with the notion.

He walked up so close, she could see the dark stubble on his chin. “Apparently, you missed the key word:
torture
.” He touched her bottom lip with his finger and tugged it lightly downward. “A man does not sleep easily after lips like these have been wrapped around his cock.”

Tess returned her attention to the stove so he wouldn’t see the color creeping up her cheeks. She set the kettle to light and reminded herself to breathe.

“Why isn’t the cook doing that?” he asked.

“You know I enjoy baking.” Her hands shook as she scooped the flour, half of which ended up powdering the front of her skirt. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her back. She prayed that the civilized side of his character would assert itself and he wouldn’t mention her lovemaking skills again.

They both turned at the sound of Jane’s twittering laugh.

“What a mess you’re making, Miss Starling. Here, let me do that.” They had a bit of a tug of war with the spoon before Tess relented.

“Jane, please bring the tea up when it’s ready,” Tess said and followed Lord Marcliffe up the stairs.

Tess had just settled onto a dining room chair when the doorknocker banged. She flinched, knowing very well who it might be.

“My, but you are jumpy little rabbit. Would that be your betrothed? Christ, it’s hardly daybreak,” he said, and stalked toward the entry.

With a hurried step, she moved to bar his way.

“Move aside. I’m going to wring someone’s neck,” he stated.

There was a glint of violence in his eyes. With her hands flat on his chest, she looked up at him. “Listen,” she hissed, “I have worked too hard to let you ruin this.”

“I wouldn’t want to destroy your damn scheme.” But he wouldn’t budge from the center of the dining room.

A servant opened the door and was nearly trampled by two men bearing baskets of white flowers. The servant directed them through the entrance hall to the dining room.

Tess plastered herself against the wall and watched in stunned silence as the men made trip after trip to the street returning with ever bigger, more ostentatious arrays of blossoms. She did not have the courage to look in Lord Marcliffe’s direction to gauge his reaction. When they were at last finished, there was not a surface bare of flowers in the room. She leaned over and buried her face in a bouquet of white roses tied with hyssop and southernwood. The scent reminded her of her country garden.