Pursued By The Viscount (5 page)

“I think we should take a stroll in the gallery, away from the noise and heat.” Lucien had no intention of waiting for her to answer him, but instead took a light hold of her arm to guide her through the crush of people and out into the longer picture gallery at the back of the ballroom. It was still early in the evening, so no other couples had yet taken advantage of this privacy, but candles already flickered along its length to light their way.

Rachel turned to him with wide and bewildered eyes, her face flushed, her skin appearing translucent against the burnished color of her gown. “What is happening to me?”

“Desire— Do not be frightened by it, Rachel.” He lightly captured her chin as she would have turned away. “I desire you as deeply.”

She blinked up at him. “You do…?”

Lucien knew his casual cynicism in regard to most women would not do with this one, not after the manner in which Rachel had suffered during her marriage. With her, he must be totally honest as to what he was feeling. Not an easy thing for a man who had always kept his own emotions guarded.

This was all uncharted territory for Lucien. Rachel might have been married, have a child, but in every way that mattered, she was as skittish and inexperienced as a virgin.

“I do,” he confirmed evenly. “Would you like to feel how much I desire you?”

She looked slightly panicked at the suggestion, and yet at the same time, Lucien could see a hesitant curiosity in the darkness of her gaze. “How would I do that?”

“In whatever way you wish.” Lucien put his hands out to the sides. “Put your hand over my heart and feel how it is racing. Yes, exactly like that,” he praised as she slowly raised one gloved hand before placing it against his waistcoat exactly where his heart was. “Do you feel how it pounds, so fast and hard?”

“Yes…” She looked at him shyly.

Lucien drew in a deep breath. “The blood is flowing through my cock as fast and making it hard— Do not take your hand away,” he groaned, placing his own hand over hers as she would have done exactly that. “Rachel, I promise you here and now, I will never—never, do you understand?—do anything that distresses or frightens you.”

She chewed her top lip for several seconds but made no further move to remove her hand from his chest. “J-James could only—only become aroused by first hitting me.”

“Your husband was a bastard who should never have married any woman,” Lucien dismissed coldly. “Nor is that the way with most gentlemen. Rachel, I only have to look at you to grow hard,” he said, his voice gentle.

She blinked. “And yet in the past, and again earlier today, I have only ever sensed your disapproval of me.”

“Because previously I was an arrogant fool who did not take the time to know you,” he admitted.

“And do you know me now?”

“Not as well as I should like to. As well as I am going to, if you will let me,” he added softly.

This was all happening too fast for Rachel. The first unfurling of her arousal. Having a man as handsome and aristocratic as Brooketon admit to desiring her. To having him invite her to put her hands on his body and
feel
that desire.
 

She had no idea whether or not she could trust her own newly discovered feelings, of what she believed must be arousal, let alone his.

I came to the ball with him, for everyone to see.

I am touching him now in a way I have never willingly touched any other man.

I danced a waltz with him.

Yes, I did all of those things, but do I
trust
him?

Chapter 5

Rachel knew there was an integrity to Lucien, an honesty that said he would never try to deceive or force her into doing something she did not want to do. If she said no to him now, she had no doubt he would accept her refusal. And he would not punish her for doing so either.

“You will go slowly?” she said uncertainly.

“As slowly as you wish.” Brooketon held her gaze as he lightly took hold of her hand resting on his chest before inching it downward. Over the tautness of his stomach, the strength of his hips, to the visible bulge in his pantaloons.

Rachel gasped as she felt the length and thickness of his flesh, so warm and vibrant beneath her palm. She had never touched James so intimately, but she was sure his member had not been so large or so long as this one. Surely it was too large and too long to ever fit inside—

What was she thinking? The only reason she had gone to the viscount was to ask for his assistance in having her letters returned to her. Something she had told him she no longer wished him to do.

And yet I allowed him to bring me to the Walkers’ ball tonight, after having already told him I would not accept his assistance.

Admittedly, the viscount had not given her any choice in the matter, but she had not tried very hard to refuse him either.

The truth was, the elusive Lucien Brooke intrigued her. From the top of his fashionably styled dark hair to the tips of his highly polished boots.

Perhaps he always had? Maybe that intrigue was also part of the reason Rachel had been willing to take Fliss’s advice and go to Lucien for help.

Rachel drew in a sharp breath as the hard length of his cock moved beneath her hand.

“It likes to be touched,” Lucien assured her. “
I
should like to be touched. By you. Flesh on flesh.”

Flesh on flesh?

Her ungloved hand against his bare cock?

Rachel’s startled gaze moved back to Lucien’s face, noting his slightly parted lips, the flush high on his cheeks, and the sapphire glitter of his eyes. Because Lucien was aroused? Because
she
aroused him? Because he
wanted
the bareness of her hand on his equally naked cock?

Could she do that?

Dare
she do that?

And if she did, what would Lucien ask of her next?

Lucien knew the exact moment Rachel began to panic, could see the emotion in the widening of her eyes, the returning tension of her body, and the way her breathing became quick and shallow.

He removed her hand from his cock and tucked her fingers neatly into the crook of his arm. “I believe it is time we returned to the ballroom and finished our dance. I am sure, like me, you have seen more than enough of the Walker ancestors.” He glanced up at the portraits adorning the back wall of the gallery. “Ugly-looking lot, were they not? Do you think Fowler is aware of his future bride’s ancestors? Or perhaps they are keeping them hidden from him until after the wedding next month?”

“Lucy Walker is a darling girl.”

“And she could eventually become as unpleasant looking as her great-great-grandmother,” Lucien reasoned.

She chuckled. “You, sir, have a wicked sense of humor I would never have guessed at until this evening.”

“It is not a laughing matter. All those hairy warts!” He gave a deliberate and exaggerated shudder. The whole of this latter part of their conversation had been a means of reducing Rachel’s tension. Of allowing her to once again relax in his company.

Little by little, he accepted, it was the only way to gain Rachel’s trust.
 

She was laughing at their conversation as they entered the ballroom. Not that false flirtatious laugh Lucien had heard her give on numerous other social occasions, but a genuine chuckle of amusement Lucien believed he could quickly become accustomed to hearing.

Making him doubly aware of the exact moment her breath caught in her throat and her tension returned as he once again twirled her about the ballroom in the last waltz of the set.

Lucien gave no indication he had noticed her tension, but she had grown unsettled, perhaps more noticeably so to him because she had previously been relaxed in his arms.

It was not difficult for him to see where her startled gaze was now directed.
 

Five men stood across the room, including two government ministers. Those “powerful friends” Rachel had referred to earlier? The three remaining gentlemen were an earl, a lord, and a baronet. He ruled out the earl as being too old; Rachel had referred to the man as being young earlier, and the earl was aged in his sixties. Which left either Lord Philip Graham or Sir Nigel Stanforth.

“Would you care to go into the other room for refreshment?” Lucien suggested lightly as the dance came to an end.

“I would prefer to leave altogether. If that is agreeable to you?” she added as one who was accustomed to being under the rule of a man’s wants and needs rather than her own. With an emphasis on the
rule.

A state of mind, in regard to himself, Lucien intended dispelling immediately. “I am yours to command, Rachel.”

That startled gaze was now directed at him. “Is that not rather a sweeping statement to make?” She tried to make light of it, but the anxiety remained in those beautiful dark eyes.

“Not at all,” Lucien assured her huskily as he once again tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her from the dance floor. At the same time, he kept half an eye on those five gentlemen across the room. If one of them paid particular attention to the two of them, he intended being aware of it. “Command me to do something, and I will do it.”

“Why would you?”

Lucien came to a halt as they stepped out into the less crowded hallway, turning to face her before taking both her hands in his own. “Because I have decided I wish to become your lover.”

“No!” She attempted to pull away.

“Yes.” Lucien’s fingers tightened about hers, refusing to release her as his unguarded gaze remained steady on hers.

“How can you be so cruel as to use what I have told you in order to mock me?” Tears glistened in her eyes and on her lashes. “How could you!” This time, she succeeded in wrenching her fingers out of his grasp, to turn quickly on her heel and almost run to the safety of the ladies’ retiring room.

Somewhere she no doubt thought Lucien could not, would not, follow her.

“You cannot come in here!” Rachel gasped as, having barely closed the door behind her, it was pushed open again and Lucien Brooke followed her into the ladies’ retiring room. A room already occupied by two now stunned young ladies, one of the Walkers’ maids attending them.

Lucien raised an arrogant brow at them and held the door open, as indication he wished them to leave. Something they immediately did. Rachel remembered the young ladies had attended their coming-out only this past Season, but even so, they obviously knew enough of the power and arrogance of Viscount Brooketon to do as he silently bade them. The maid did likewise.

“Do not allow anyone else to come in here,” he instructed as he closed the door behind the maid.
 

Rachel was breathing hard in her agitation. “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded, completely unnerved by the fact they were now alone in the eerie silence of the room. It was difficult to imagine there were several hundred people crowded into the ballroom down the hallway.

He shrugged. “This room was your choice.”

“You should not have followed me in here.”

“I will follow you wherever I please,” he announced with his usual arrogance.

“Those two young ladies will no doubt inform all who will listen that Viscount Brooketon and Lady Rachel Shaw are alone together in the ladies’ retiring room. The Walkers’ maid, once she is free to do so, will also inform all the household staff as well as her mistress.”

“Let them.”

“Lucien—”

“Rachel.” He stepped farther into the room. “I was not mocking you earlier. I meant exactly what I said. I am at your command. So command me, Rachel,” he invited softly.

She could feel a pulse beating erratically in her throat. “And if my command is for you to allow me to leave?”

“Then I will do it.” He nodded. “But are you sure that is really what you wish for?”

Rachel was no long sure of anything where this man was concerned. She had been nervous and fearful of the viscount when she’d visited his home earlier today. Somewhat shy with him when they were attempting—and failing—to dance the waltz together within her home.

But, if she was truthful with herself, after her initial resistance, she had very much enjoyed dancing the waltz with him this evening. He was a man of natural grace and elegance.
 

She had enjoyed their time alone together in the Walkers’ gallery even more.

Once she got over the shock, she had even enjoyed touching Lucien so intimately.

Command him, he now invited.

She swallowed before speaking. “I cannot.”

Lucien now stood so close to her, she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. “Command me, sweet Rachel,” he invited again.

Rachel was finding it difficult to breathe, and her heart was pounding so loudly, Lucien must surely be able to hear it too. Because she
wanted
to command this arrogant and powerful man. To feel in control. Not of him, but of the situation. In a way she had never been during her marriage to James.

“I should very much like to kiss you,” Brooketon prompted helpfully.

James had never troubled himself with kisses. In fact, she had never been kissed by any man—