Legendary Lover (5 page)

After a lengthy interval, her lashes slowly lifted and, searching for Jack, she saw him lounging in a chair near the fire.

"That was safe enough, 1
trust
?" he amiably said.

"You needn't look so smug."

"Am
contraire.
Far from feeling smug, I'm horny as hell and not sure how far my courtesy extends."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help, but—" His splendid penis lured her gaze, the erect length extending past his navel.

"Maybe we could negotiate something," Jack murmured, aware of her gaze, not sure he was capable of gentlemanly behavior for long.

"I can't take the risk."

"How can I assure you of my trustworthiness?"

"You can't." But she could almost feel him inside her as she gazed at him, the swollen veins of his erection prominent in the firelight, her strange new psyche inattentive to everything but carnal gratification.

"I don't suppose testimony from witnesses would serve."

She smiled. "You'd call them in from the ballroom?"

He grimaced, moody under his afflicted desires. "Damn you. I should be able to curb these impulses."

"It's my fault?"

"Yes." He had a reputation for superb self-control—too much control, those ladies unable to attract his attention would attest. But that restraint seemed to be lacking in Venus
Duras's
company, and for the first time in his life he considered the possibility that female sorcery might actually exist. "Hell and damnation," he growled, coming out of the chair in a fluid surge of muscle and power. "I'm done talking."

She came up on her elbows. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to put this stiff prick into that hot little cunt of yours."

"How
charming,"
she sarcastically said.

"If you don't like it, I'll stop."

She had to look up a very long way; he towered over her, his rigid erection particularly difficult to ignore. "Jack, don't even consider force
majeure
. I won't allow it, I-"

He stopped her protest with a heated kiss, settling between her legs with such ease, he rightly questioned who was seducing whom.

"Trust me," he whispered against her mouth and plunged into her dewy wetness, burying
himself
hilt-deep with a contented sigh.

Instantly, shamefully, like the most scandalous wanton, she climaxed with a whimpering cry. Disgraced, ingloriously humbled, she felt all the certainties in her past swept away.
"Oh, God," she whispered, distrait, bewildered.

"Hush," he murmured, gently kissing her. "It's allowed." Sliding his hands under her bottom, he forced himself deeper. And desire quickened within her again even while saner counsel chastised her irresponsible hunger.

But fretful anxiety soon faded in the heat of passion.

His penetration increasing until he'd buried himself to the most profound depth, he moved delicately, deliberately, skillfully, on his best behavior since he'd never resorted to brute force before. He soothed her apprehensions, mollified his own scruples, and brought her to climax twice more before he finally allowed himself to come on her stomach.

Into the hushed aftermath, Venus whispered, "I shouldn't have let you." But her tone was benevolent, her sensibilities replete.

"I shouldn't have either. Forgive me."

"If I weren't so blissfully content, I'd muster up the energy to chide you."

"Chide me next time." Sprawled against the opposite end of the sofa, he smiled at her.

Her languid sensibilities snapped to attention. "No," she firmly declared, coming up to a seated position. "There are percentages of risk, my darling
man, that
I don't care to contemplate."

"And degrees of pleasure, my darling lady, that you should experience."

"Absolutely not.
You're not going to win this time."

"It's not about winning. It's about hot sex."

"Don't." But she felt an immediate titillating response.

"You always
seem
to like it." Confident in his ability to persuade, he gave her a tolerant smile.

"That I like," she said with a charming frankness, indicating the undiminished vigor of his penis.

"We're at your service, mademoiselle."

"A pleasant thought.
However—" She glanced around. "What time is it? I should be going."

"I think I'll keep you for a while yet."

"You'll what?" Shock resonated in her words.

"I'm not finished yet."

"No, absolutely not."
She scrambled to her feet and held up her hand as though the gesture would forestall his rash inclinations. "I'm not taking any more chances tonight. Enjoyable as the sex is, the consequences are too serious."

"You're hard to convince. I didn't come in you. I won't come in you."

"Sorry, I'm just more practical—for obvious reasons."

"Then I'm sorry, too," he murmured, slowly coming to his feet.

"Jack, no—Jack!" She slipped under his outstretched arm and darted away. Finding protection behind the sofa, she guardedly watched him.

"I'm completely dependable," he said, moving for-ward.

"Jack, no, I mean it!" Gripping the couch, she struggled to check her sexual urges. Limned by firelight, he was breathtakingly male—broad-shouldered, tall, honed to a level of fitness rarely seen.
And beautifully aroused.

Suddenly leaping, he cleared the sofa in a graceful vault, landing lightly beside her.
"Now about that no."

"You can't just take what you want." Her eyes were hot with affront. "Have you no manners?"

"Don't need '
em
. And I always get what I want."

"Not this time," she snapped, annoyed by his insolence.

"Why don't we see how your hot little pussy
feels.
" His smile was cheeky. "I have the distinct impression she likes me."

"You arrogant bastard!"
Her palm met his cheek in a stinging blow.

"Your temper's as hot as your cunt," he murmured with a faint smile, quickly capturing her hands in his. "Now, let's see if you're still interested in fucking." Twirling her around, he pressed her into the sofa back, holding her firmly in place with his hand on the small of her back. Slipping his other hand between her legs, he eased two fingers inside her drenched passage. "
Mmmm
, wet cunt ..."

She squirmed against his hold, but the resulting sensations were so intoxicating she instantly quieted.

He'd heard her suppressed moan and, slipping his fingers
out,
he leaned into the warmth of her back and traced his damp fingers over her plump breasts. "You're always ready, aren't you?" His mouth was close to her ear, the length of his body pressed hard into hers, his erection like an iron rod between them. "It must be your French blood."

"What's your excuse?" she snapped.

"My long-ago
DeLancey
ancestors, I presume. And don't pretend you don't want this, because 1
know
better." He slid his erection between her thighs. "Feel how much I want you."

He was rock hard, magnificently long. The ache between her legs indelible evidence of his allure, she felt hot-blooded desire overwhelm her senses.

"Bend over."

He moved his hand up her spine and helped her. Her rosy bottom suddenly raised to him, her
pouty
labia lush and welcoming, was like the gates of paradise open for his pleasure.

Guiding his erection to her sleek cleft, he penetrated minimally, only the swollen crest of his penis partially submerged. Her silken labia closed around him, anticipation taut between them—cross-grained temper adding to the heat.

"Tell me you want this," he softly ordered,
adverse
to being alone in his mad, unquenchable frenzy.

"Damn you," she panted, quivering with need, resentful, her feelings in tumult. But she swayed back, wanting
more,
impatient to feel the full extent of his arousal even while she cursed his brazen conceit.

"Tell me what a hot little piece like you wants," he growled, resisting her enticement, unnerved by his irrepressible cravings, needing her capitulation.

Silence enveloped them, lengthened . . . "You,
"
 
she
 
finally whispered,
 
hating herself for wanting him so desperately.

"Good," he muttered, the single word sanction, satisfaction,
exoneration
for all the ambiguities. And he drove into her, lifting her with the ferocity of his thrusting stroke, plunging in over and over again with a mindless, impassioned fever that overlooked limitations and good judgment and years of casual sex. Braced against the sofa back, she melted around him, insatiable, eager
tor
the dizzying impact of each driving invasion, caught in a torrent of rapacious need so shocking in its intensity that shame, will, reason were all silenced by sensational lust.

She came once, twice, three times until, near swooning, he took his own pleasure at last, coming on her back. Sated—at least momentarily—he lowered his head to kiss the silken nape of her neck, his mouth like a hot brand. "I'm going to fuck you all night," he breathed.

She didn't protest or take issue.

She only purred deep in her throat.

MUCH
   
LATER,
   
THEY
   
LAY
  
ON
   
THE
   
SOFA,
   
THE
coals of the fire a soft red glow on the hearth, contentment glowing through their senses as well. Half reclining against the sofa arm, he held her lounging form between his legs, her back against his chest, the silk of her hair brushing his chin, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing a delicate friction on his forearms.

He'd glanced at the clock on the mantel some time ago, but felt no inclination to move even though the hour was getting late. Most of the guests would be gone by now—perhaps an asset rather than a liability.
Although those who remained would be badly in their cups, and unpredictable.

"I'll send you flowers in the morning," Venus murmured, swiveling enough to gaze up at him. "You definitely deserve them."

"I was thinking you might like something with emeralds to match your luscious eyes."

"No wonder you're so much in demand, my dear, sweet, darling Jack."

"Don't be flirtatious." His voice was gruff.

"
Whyever
not?"
She twisted around in his arms so she lay against his chest, her back gracefully arched beneath his palms.

"I know flirtatious women by the score."

"So?"

"So—" he took a small breath, not quite certain why he felt nettled "—don't play the coquette."

"I may want to." She looked at him with a mild query. "Are we going to fight?"

"We're not fighting," he tautly said.

"Will you make love to me tomorrow, then?"

He didn't answer immediately, too long conditioned to avoid commitment.

"Am I not supposed to ask? Is that a male prerogative?"

"No," he gently said. "No, of course ask, and yes, I will.
With the greatest of pleasure."

"Your place or mine?"

"Where are you staying?"

"My family has a house in
Belgrave
Square. I'm quite alone."

"No chaperon?"

Her trill of laughter annoyed him.

"Not for a very long time, darling.
Why would I possibly want or need one?"

"For propriety's sake, of course."

"How starchy and prudish you sound, when you make love to all the ladies in the ton under their husbands' noses."

"It's different for a man."

"Perhaps in your world.
I live very much as I please."

"And you make love as you please."

"Hardly a question for you to ask.
Did you win your wager, by the way?"

"It's not my wager."

"Whose is it?"

He hesitated. "I'd rather not say."

"Does it concern me?"

His hesitation was longer this time.
"In a manner of speaking."

"Then I'd appreciate knowing what I'm involved in."

"Jesus," he muttered. "Don't ask."

Pushing away from him, she eased into a seated position. "Tell me so I'll know what everyone is tittering about tomorrow."

"I thought you did as you pleased."

"I do. I simply wish to be forearmed."

"Let's just say you're going to be barraged with admirers."

"I already am. That's not a problem."

"With leering admirers."

"Because of this wager?"

"I had nothing to do with it."

"Good God, Jack, stop this unnecessary evasion. Just tell me."

"There was some question whether you were unassailable."

"And you disagreed."

"Yes."

"Well, you won your wager. Why is that so appalling."

"It wasn't my wager."

"Then whose was it? Whom do I have to cut with a scathing look?" she facetiously queried.

He debated telling her the truth, but she'd be forewarned at least if he told her. "A couple score men at Brookes," he said with a sigh. "It's in the betting book."

"Along with their friends and acquaintances."
Her gaze suddenly turned cool. "And you couldn't resist."

"I hadn't planned this."

"Tonight, you mean."

He had the grace to look discomfited.

"I know men like you. You'll share the story of your conquest over drinks and cards. How fucking juvenile," she tartly said, swinging her legs over the side of the sofa.

He reached out to stop her, grasping her arm. "It's not that way."

"Yes, it is. And I should have known better. But thank you for the excellent fuck. I'll recommend you if anyone
asks
." Shaking his hand away, she rose to her feet.

"I wish you'd let me explain." But he didn't move, because he had no intention of doing anything more than
apologize
. He'd escaped too many marriage traps in the last decade. Caution gave him pause; affronted womanhood could be very expensive in terms
of
personal freedom. He knew men who were married for less than what he'd done tonight.

"No explanation is necessary," Venus replied, beginning to dress.

"Would you like me to escort you—
"

"No, 1 would not."
Crisp, unequivocal words.

Silenced, moody, ill-humored, he watched her dress. He didn't feel as though he were entirely to blame— neither for the wagers he had no part in, nor for the lady's open-minded, very receptive sexuality. And as she stood at the mirror, fully clothed and pinning her hair back in place, he said, "Is this exclusively my fault?"

"I don't want to talk to you."

"I have no intention of speaking about this to anyone, if you're concerned."

"
You
^!
U
lose your wager."

"It's not my wager,
damnit
. It never was."

"Fine.
Fm sure you're right," she added, readjusting a curl over one ear. "I'm just sorry I ever met you."

"You didn't seem sorry an hour ago."

She rounded on him with fire in her eyes. "Yes, you're very good,
Redvers
. Is that what you want to hear?
 
You're fucking unbelievable. But then my life doesn't revolve around sex the way yours does, so I'll manage just fine without you. I wish all the ladies good fortune with you."

She slammed the door when she left.
Loudly.
The crash thundered down the hall.

If he wasn't so surly, he would have smiled at her disregard for appearances. Venus
Duras
, apparently, had no intention of quietly sneaking out of Grove land House.

Chapter 4
        
esse
           

THE
 
DUCHESS
 
OF
 
GROVELAND WAS HOLDING
court on the verge of the ballroom. The dance floor was still awash with dancers despite the late hour, but dancing until dawn was common enough, and while the great bulk of the guests had departed, a goodly number still remained.

Venus walked up to the group and, bowing, thanked her hostess and bid her good night.

"I'll see you to the door," the duchess quickly replied, rising from her chair with astonishing vitality considering her age and the late hour.

She waited until they were alone in the corridor outside before saying, "I'll apologize for Jack if need be." She'd seen the strain in Venus's eyes when she'd said her good-byes, although her demeanor and voice had been composed—and Venus and Jack had been absent for a very long time. "He's rash at times, but good-hearted .for all his scapegrace ways."

"No apologies are required."

"He didn't offend you, then?"

"No, not at all," Venus calmly lied as they approached the staircase.

"Good. I wouldn't want Jack to interfere with our friendship. I'm deeply interested in your hospital. I commend you for thinking of more than your newest dress or parasol, like so many of these empty-headed ladies."

"Life would be very boring if one relied only on the fashionable world for entertainment." Venus descended the marble stairs slowly so the elderly duchess could keep pace with her.

"My thought exactly." Lady Groveland added with a smile, "Although I do like a dance now and then. As to my offer of help, if you agree, my men will be over in the afternoon to help transfer your hospital supplies. Say two o'clock?"

"Thank you very much. Two o'clock will be fine."

"Don't be angry with him." The duchess had the feeling her godson and this unusual Frenchwoman were oddly alike.

"Forgive me, Duchess, but I'll be angry with him
if
I wish." Reaching the base of the stairs, Venus turned to her hostess with a gracious smile. "Thank you again for a lovely evening. I'll expect your men at two."

AND
  
SHE
  
WALKED
  
AWAY
 
AS
  
COOL
 
AS
  
CAN
  
BE,"

the
duchess said. Having tracked Jack down in the library, she sat in a chair near the fire with a glass of port in her hand and cast him a penetrating look. "You misbehaved, didn't you?"

"I'm not going to pour out my heart to you, Peggy, so don't even try." He was sprawled on the sofa, still half dressed in trousers and a partially unbuttoned shirt, his black mood undiminished. A half bottle of port since Venus left hadn't help lighten his mood.

"I can smell sex in this room. I'm not asking you for details. Only what you did to offend her."

"That's the damned nib. I didn't do anything. It's people like you, my dear gambling maniac, who had to bet on this. I don't need incentive to bed a woman."

"You told her about the wagers?" A hint of incredulity colored her voice.

"I couldn't avoid it. She'd hear soon enough tomorrow. I thought at least she should be warned."

"And now you're drinking away your sorrows."

"No, I'm not." Each word dripped with affront.

"It
look
to me as though you are."

"Well, you're wrong."

"She walked away from you and you can't stand it."

"I'm not that vain, and you know it."

"So why
are you
sullen, like a little boy who's lost his favorite toy?"

He mockingly tipped his head. "Just put the knife in and twist it, Peggy. Be my guest."

"Why do you like her?"

"I don't like her," he gruffly muttered.

"Let me reword that. What tantalizes you?"

He grimaced. "I'd like to tell you to fuck off."

"But I'm right."

"She's unlike all the rest. There. Happy?"

"And you're intrigued."

"You might say that. A day too late, a
ha'penny
short . . ."

"
I'nvgoing
to see her tomorrow."

"And you'll make everything right. You
are
a damned romantic, Peggy."

"I always have been, I don't deny."

"But then I'm not interested in romance."

"Men never are, until it's too late."

"Jesus, Peggy, don't play matchmaker. I'm intrigued
aybe
, but not demented. The day I willingly take a

wife
will be the day I sail to the moon. Promise me you

won't
interfere."

"Very well," she reluctantly murmured. "I promise." Although the sun was breaking over the horizon, the

library
was still clad in shadow. Otherwise Jack might

have
seen the duchess's crossed fingers.

TH
 
SPRING
  
DAWN
  
WAS
  
MUCH
  
TOO
  
BEAUTIFUL

for
her sour mood, Venus thought, descending from her carriage at the gate
to
her home in
Belgrave
Square. It should be overcast, with a pelting cold rain and the hint of snow in the air.

But nature overlooked the resentments of puny man and the warm sun rose in a brilliant golden haze, illuminating the world in shimmering splendor. The fresh new leaves on the trees gleamed, the fragrance of early roses filled the air, and even in her chafing resentment, she couldn't help but stop to admire the glorious blooms on the wisteria climbing up the wall trellis.

The door opened as if her
staff were
on alert for her return, and her butler stood framed in the opened portal. "Good morning, Miss
Duras
," he murmured with a punctilious bow. "Did you enjoy your evening at Grove-land House?"

"Yes, Charles," she said, turning away from the splendid flowers. "Thank you."

"Chocolate is waiting in your bedchamber, mademoiselle."

"I'll need bathwater."

"Very good, my lady."

"And something hearty for breakfast.
I'm famished."

"Perhaps the
chefs
special scrambled eggs with caviar. He received the fresh mushrooms from France yesterday."

"Some Provencal sausage, too."

"And strawberries with cream?" Charles suggested, familiar with his mistress's tastes.

"Perfect," she said with a smile. "I adore you, Charles. You know my every mood."

When her breakfast was delivered, shortly after her maid had finished drying her after her bath, Charles had seen that the chef included her favorite yeasted sugar cake with
creme
fratehe
, as well.

She ate the sugar cake first, seated at a small table near the open windows, and then the scrambled eggs, savoring the pearly caviar as it slid over her tongue. She drank two cups of Mexican chocolate with raw
pilonci-Uo
sugar, a great favorite of hers, and picked daintily at the strawberries swimming in heavy cream.