Dare to Love (37 page)

She giggled. Maybe, even discover another of his intriguing tricks.

She gulped down her tea and rang for Emma. Once she appeared, Nivea yawned loudly and announced, “Today was such an emotional day, I think I will retire early. Please prepare my things and then have the rest of the evening to yourself.”

Her maid did not suspect a thing. She helped her into her night shift, gathered up her clothes and tray and, after bidding her good night, left the room.

Could she really do this? Could she be so wanton as to sneak into his room?

Yes
.

Before she could change her mind, Nivea quickly donned a robe and scampered down the hall. Darting into his door, she smothered a scream.

“Oh! I—I—” She flushed to the roots of her hair.

His man, Jackson, was standing at the dresser, arranging Dare’s cravats. Appearing startled for a second, he recovered, gave her a courtly bow and said, “Good evening Miss Horsham. I can see you wish to leave Lord Landis a note before retiring. I will not interfere.”

She looked at him, confused, but he continued to assemble Dare’s wardrobe. “You may compose your missive at his desk and he will find it upon his return. Please give me a moment while I prepare his bath and then I will adjourn for the evening.”

He walked into the adjoining room, moving around for a few moments before whispering to her from the doorway, “Milord has been much improved since your appearance. I am quite grateful for the change. Have a good evening, miss.” Then she heard a door click and he was gone.

Well, that was quite unexpected.
Nivea sat on the bed, listening to her heart pound furiously in her chest. Would he be back? Should she stay?

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she smelled…Dare. His delicious scent permeated the room. It was on his clothes, in his bed.

Yes, she would stay.

Unwrapping her robe, she began to climb into bed when she felt the sash slither down her leg. It was silky and smooth and gave her an idea. Feeling delightfully wicked, she pulled the ribbon from the robe and eyed the headboard. Oh, yes, there were handy little pigeonholes in the woodwork. She threaded the sash through, tied a loose knot at either end and slid her wrists through the openings.

Dare was in for quite a surprise.

Nivea startled awake. She was lying in a strange bed, bathed in shadows. It took her a moment to remember where she was. In the next room, she heard Dare yell for Jackson. He must have finished his bath.

She squirmed in anticipation. Hopefully, he would not be mad finding her here.

“Jackson!” he bellowed again, but there was no answer. Accepting that his manservant was not coming, she heard him muttering obscenities as he toweled off. He stormed through the door, his face cloaked in anger. Until he saw her.

The look in his eyes was precious. She saw them change from anger to surprise to desire in a heartbeat. Wearing nothing but a robe, water glistening on his hair, he was a sight to behold. He stopped in the doorway and a smile curled up his face. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms, as though lounging in a ballroom. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he purred.

Her skin tingled in anticipation and her heart stuttered. “You said some very nice things about me today. I thought you might deserve a reward.”

His eyes widened. “A reward, you say? Just for being nice?” Then his expression turned wolfish. “Exactly how nice was I?”

She held up her arms, showing she was tethered to the headboard. Feeling absolutely decadent, she cast an alluring smile his way. “I would say, the way you defended me deserves a very,
very
big reward.”

His eyes went dark. There was a brief moment when he paused, perhaps to consider the wisdom of his actions. And then desire overcame all reason. He was by her side in a flash and she felt the full weight of him covering her, warming her, and soothing her.

“Oh, Nivea, you cannot imagine how much I have ached for this.” He nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. “I could bear anything as long as I knew I could lose myself in you once the day is over.”

The feel of his warm skin against hers was intoxicating. She felt herself grow wet and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Then he began to kiss her neck, run his tongue along her jawline.

She shivered. “Oh, Dare, I have missed you too.”

He stroked her bare arms, stretched over her head. “I see that you are at my mercy. I wonder what I should do with you.”

The seductive tone sent another shiver through her. She watched as he ran his gaze over her body, halting at her legs. Noting the predatory look in his eyes, she squirmed.

“Oh, my dear, I think it is time to introduce you to another one of my tricks.”

She giggled nervously. “I was hoping you would say that.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise and then smirked. “I see I am going to enjoy having you as my wife, Miss Horsham.”

He stood up and let the robe fall from his shoulders. She quivered at the sight of his lean, muscled body. The dark hair on his chest swirled around his nipples, growing faint around his stomach and then thicker between his legs, where his desire was evident. She barely had time to lick her lips before he lay down, covering her with his warmth. Starting at her finger tips, he proceeded to kiss his way down her wrists, forearm, and elbow. She giggled when he reached the inner part of her arm and twisted away, her wrist slipping from its restraint.

“Oh, you’ve escaped. That won’t do at all.” With a devilish grin, Dare captured her hand, stretched it over her head, and retied both her knots.

“That’s better,” he said, with a light tug. “Now, where was I?”

She shivered as he skimmed his hand down her arm, throat, and breast. Being wicked was delicious fun.

She strained up to increase the pressure of his hand, but he had other ideas. He slid down farther, kissing her stomach through the fabric of her shift. Lower still, until he was sitting at the bottom of the bed. Running his hands up from her feet, he nudged the virginal white fabric up her thighs, exposing her womanhood. The fiery look in his eyes wiped away the flare of embarrassment. But when he dipped his head toward her inner thigh, she almost changed her mind. Surely he wasn’t going to…

“Oh!” she squeaked. He had flicked his tongue across a sensitive spot high on her thigh. She tried to squirm away.

“Now, now, my dearest, don’t turn bashful.” He ran a finger from her breastbone, down her stomach, through her navel, and stopped just between her legs. “You trust me, don’t you? You know I will give you pleasure.”

His ebony eyes burned through her. She licked her lips in nervous anticipation, but nodded.

“Good girl,” he purred.

Edging his finger lower, he delicately rubbed the sensitive bud between her legs, and she arched her back with delight.

“That’s right. You want me to touch you. Now I will give you a different sort of touch and you will crave it as much as I do.”

He dipped his head and licked her wetness. The first time he kissed her, she was too surprised for the sensation to register. But after she felt him press and swirl his tongue around her most sensitive area, she flamed with desire.

“Oh, Dare, that is…wonderful,” she panted, “do not stop.”

He chuckled. “I won’t, my dear,” and returned to his work.

Nivea writhed with need. She tugged at her arms, wanting to touch him, run her fingers though his hair, hold his head in place to ensure he did—not—stop.

Pinned as she was, she could only arch her back and press more firmly into his mouth. He kept up the onslaught, sucking, licking, teasing her until she couldn’t breathe.

He lessened the pressure, nuzzling against her thigh.

“Please.” She thrust upward.

“Soon, darling. Very soon.” Even his voice sent her pulse racing.

He shifted his weight and pressed her hips back onto the mattress. Once she was still, he slid his hand under her shift, up her ribs, and gently pinched at her swollen nipple.

Exquisite agony.

He licked her once more and then squeezed again.

Oh God, she was quivering like a new foal.

He palmed her breast, reverently kneading her skin and allowed her to catch her breath. “Are you enjoying this?”

She whimpered.

“You have been a very patient woman and I think you deserve a reward as well,” he cooed. “Are you ready for your reward?”

She nodded so hard, the bed shook.

With a wolfish grin, he tweaked her nipple, sucked her swollen nub, and drove his finger into her center. And she exploded into blazing bits of light.

He continued to lick her through the spasms of pleasure until she could take no more. Keening softly, she pulled away from him. While her body was still sending aftershocks quivering through her, he reached above and untied her hands.

“I want you to touch me,” he urged. “I want to feel your hands on me. Wrap your arms around me, my love, and heal me.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she stroked his back, running her hands over his scars.

“I need you, now, my love.” He nudged her legs apart and drove into her with one thrust. Her skin was so sensitive, the contact was almost painful in its pleasure. Giving her time to adjust, he buried into her neck, kissing and nipping at her skin. When she pressed against him, he raised up onto his palms and began to move. He loomed above her like a magnificent satyr. His hair, luxurious as black silk, fell down around his face. His jaw, firm and strong, was clenched in concentration. And his eyes, black, intense, penetrated her very soul. They were one.

She ran her fingers down his check in a tender caress. “I love you.”

He smiled and kissed her finger. “I love you, too. Now and forever.”

“Now and forever,” she repeated.

He dropped down, covering her body with his heat, his delicious scent. She kneaded his muscles, slicked with sweat. Roiling and rubbing his manhood against her womanhood, she groaned with pleasure. The sound spurred him on and he increased the tempo, sending shivers through her body.

Pumping, pulsing, pounding into her, he brought her closer and closer. Almost there. Almost there…and then with a burst of pleasure, she cried out.

He covered her mouth with his to swallow her scream and then shuddered to completion.

They both laid there panting, their chests heaving from the overwhelming exertion. “Good God, woman,” Dare finally choked out, “you are going to kill me.”

In a voice heavy with sleep, she managed to mumble, “Hopefully not until we have tried out all your tricks.”

He gave a strangled laugh and then drifted off to sleep in her arms.

The next month was a whirlwind of activity. True to her word, Amelia took over the wedding plans, inviting the guests and dragging Nivea to endless dress fittings. “Darling, you must have a trousseau for your new husband. He will be a marquess someday. You must be attired appropriately.”

Nivea loved her stepmother, and tried to be patient, but it was exhausting. “Surely, I have enough clothes now. We’ve been to every modiste in London.”

“And they have designed some marvelous creations for you, don’t you agree? You’ll be the envy of the
ton
.”

That was pushing it a little far. Yes, the clothes were nice, but they would still be worn by her. If she was to be envied, it was for the man she had somehow convinced to marry her. She still could not believe it.

In public, he played the cordial gentleman, as though scared to show his true feelings. But every so often he would catch her eye, and his lips would curl into a sultry smile. His eyes would darken, and heat would flare between them. It wouldn’t be long before he would sneak up on her, tug her into a quiet corner, and kiss her senseless.

She’d told him they could do no more until they were married, and he seemed to take great pleasure in making her regret those words. She couldn’t wait to become his wife. To make him hers.

And Amelia was right, she wanted to make him proud. So, she sat through numerous fittings, stops at the millenary, and embarrassing visits by the modiste charged with designing her nightclothes. In no time, the preparations were complete. There was nothing to do but wait for the day to arrive.

It was a week before the wedding, when Dare received a letter from his mother. It was shockingly short and to the point.

Adair,

Your father has passed on. His burial will occur in two days. As you are no longer under an obligation to marry, we await your arrival.

Dowager Marchioness of Raynsforth

He put down the paper.

Blinked.

And read it again.

His exhale was so intense, the missive fluttered across the desk.

That was it. He was now the Marquess of Raynsforth. He could do as he pleased, no longer shackled by the demands or expectations of his father. He knew he should feel some sadness or remorse for his sire, but at the moment, there was only relief.

And then the words began to sink in.
No longer under an obligation to marry. We await your arrival?

He shook his head in disbelief. Was his entire family delusional? Did they truly think he would abandon Nivea and return home? To live?

The idea was ludicrous.

His wedding was days away and nothing would stop him from starting a new life with the woman he loved. Then a sense of dread prickled down his spine. Could he marry just days after his father’s death? Protocol dictated they wait at least six months.

Dammit to Hell!
He slammed his palm on the desk. That would be completely unacceptable. He could hardly wait six days, little yet six months. He loved her. He
needed
her. He’d leashed in his rampant desire for as long as he could. They
must
marry.

But first he would have to inform her of the news. After all, the Horshams might have an opinion on the matter. He would just have to convince them to have the
correct
opinion.

Snatching the note off the desk, he stuffed it into his pocket and headed out.

Upon his arrival at the Horsham’s London home, Nivea raced down the stairs to greet him. “Oh Dare, this is an unexpected surprise. Why are you here?”