Pursued By The Viscount (7 page)

She liked him very much.

Enough to continue with their plan to return to his home rather than her own so that he might show her what pleasure truly was?

She drew in a deep breath. “I will come home with you after all.”

He nodded. “It is a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.” There was not the least expression of triumph in Brooketon’s demeanor.

For which Rachel was truly grateful. That brief conversation with her blackmailer earlier in the Walkers’ entrance hall had unnerved her, but she could not allow a man such as that to continue to frighten and terrorize her. If she did so, then he had won. James had won.

What of those damning letters?

What of them? No matter what threats her tormentor issued, he would ultimately do exactly as he wished, with no regard for her or her behavior. As such, she might as well enjoy Brooketon’s company while she could.

“Would you care for a brandy?” Lucien offered once they were settled in the sanctuary of his study. Rachel had removed her cloak but was by no means relaxed as she perched on the edge of the chaise as if ready for flight.

Lucien had brought her to the least formal room in the house, comprising of a large desk and chair, several bookshelves, a comfortable chaise, and a deep red Aubusson carpet. The stained glass windows shed a rainbow of light over the room during the day, but for now, he had instructed the fire be lit in the hearth. The flames were already warm and cheerful.

Nevertheless, he could sense whoever had spoken to her in the entrance hall of the Walkers’ home during his absence, whatever had been said to her, had shaken her badly.

But she had come home with him anyway. Because that was who and what she now was: a woman who refused to be cowed again. By anyone.

Lucien’s admiration for her grew.

“I believe we are both in need of a brandy.” He moved to pour a generous amount into two of the crystal cut glasses before sitting beside her on the chaise. His thighs did not quite touch hers as he turned toward her to give her the glass.

“Thank you.” She took the glass as if it were a lifeline, cradling it in her hands.

Lucien noted with satisfaction that she had not tried to avoid his touch this time as she had on the last occasion. “It cannot warm you if you do not drink it,” he encouraged.

Rachel raised the glass to her lips and took a large swallow, only to then splutter and choke as the strong alcohol hit the back of her throat, taking her breath away. Lucien patted her on the back, her eyes watering by the time the coughing stopped.

She offered no word of protest when Lucien removed the glass and placed it on the side table beside his own. Dutch courage was all well and good, but not if it resulted in adding to that impression of a lack of sophistication on her part. Even if that was the case.

“Now where were we?” Lucien moved closer, his muscled thigh pressing against her own.

Rachel sat rigid and unmoving as he raised his hand, fingers lifting the curls at her temple, before there was the feel of exploratory lips and the warmth of Lucien’s breath against her skin.
 

She closed her eyes, hands clenched tightly together in her lap as those firm lips left a trail of fire across her cheek, her earlobe, and down her throat.

Some of that tension melted away, and pleasure once again took its place as Lucien’s lips and teeth kissed and nibbled their way along her bared shoulder.

“This needs to come down.” Lucien removed the two diamond pins from her hair, allowing her golden tresses to cascade onto her shoulders and back. “You have the most glorious hair.” He gathered those curls up in his hands before burying his face in that silkiness to breathe in deeply. Rachel’s hair smelled of an intoxicating mix of lemon and flowers. “Your skin is like satin.” He touched the temptation of the bareness of her flesh revealed by the dip of the neckline at the back of her gown. “Lie down for me,” he encouraged. “On your front.” He turned her so that her back was toward him as she leaned up on her elbows.

Rachel began to tremble as Lucien brushed her hair to one side, before she felt the soft caress of his lips and tongue against her nape. “That feels… I had no idea.” She groaned, spine arching in pleasure, her nipples feeling hard as pebbles as they pressed against the bodice of her gown. That pleasure increased as Lucien’s lips moved lower still, tracing the curve of her back, and causing her to moan softly.

He must have unfastened the four tiny pearl buttons securing the gown, as he pushed the material aside and his lips moved lower still.

Rachel gasped as those lips plundered the indentations at the base of her spine, dangerously close to the cheeks of her bottom. Her protest died on her lips, her breath caught in her throat when Lucien’s hands moved forward beneath her gown to cup beneath her breasts.

She raised herself higher on her elbows to allow him easier access. Hot pleasure coursed through her. That feeling intensified, gathering and dampening between her thighs, when his fingers lightly stroked across the turgid nipples and the heat of his lips continued to explore the length of her spine.

It felt…wonderful. Thrilling. Exciting. Pleasure such as she had never known or imagined.

The heat deepened when Lucien captured and rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. “Oh God, yes…” Her cry was completely involuntary as she pushed her breasts against those arousing digits. “Oh please, Lucien!” she groaned.

Lucien had not expected Rachel to be as responsive as this quite so quickly. He squeezed and pinched her nipples harder, relishing the way her body undulated beneath him. “More?” he pressed gruffly.

“Please…” Her head fell forward onto the arm of the chaise.

Lucien’s already aroused cock became even harder at the sound of Rachel’s breathy groans and whimpers. He continued to squeeze and pluck her engorged nipples. The heady perfume of her arousal encouraged him to pull on those nipples, elongating them to a degree that was almost, but not quite, painful. Rachel had known enough pain in her life already.
 

Those groans grew deeper and longer, her arousal now invading Lucien’s senses, those throaty groans, the sight of her creamy flesh and how silky it was to his touch, the insidious aroma of her arousal.

That only left taste.

She made a sound of protest as Lucien’s hands released her breasts to turn her over onto her back. Her hair was a silken tangle about the bareness of her shoulders, eyes feverish as she gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted.

Her unfastened gown had slipped down at the front, and her breasts were now completely bared to the hunger of Lucien’s gaze and mouth. Perfectly formed breasts, pushed up by her corset, and tipped by surprisingly dark rose nipples that pouted up at him temptingly.

Lucien had no intention of resisting that appeal, groaning his satisfaction as his head swooped and he captured one of those pouting nipples in his mouth to suckle, gently at first and then greedily as her back curved into the caress. She tasted of silk and honey, deliciously so, and Lucien drank his fill, his tongue laving both those turgid berries in turn as he suckled her deeper into the heat of his mouth.

Lucien continued to gorge himself while he slid the skirt of her gown up her calf, past her knees, and then above her thighs. Her gasp was only half in protest when Lucien sat up to unfasten and then ease her drawers down her thighs.

“I very much want to kiss you here.” His fingers trailed lightly over the softness of the damp blonde curls revealed between her thighs. “And taste you here.” Those fingers trailed lightly down her cleft, lingering to stroke against the slickness coating the plumpness of her nether lips. “Will you allow it?” They had already gone further this evening than Lucien had believed possible.

The tension in the room built to an almost unbearable degree as he waited for her answer.

Chapter 7

Rachel was almost mindless with arousal. So sensitive everywhere Lucien touched and stroked. Each caress of those long fingers caused the juices to flow between her thighs and the pulsing heat of her core to rise to an almost unbearable intensity.

Could she allow more?

How could she not when she recognized an answering need in the darkness of Lucien’s devouring gaze.

She moistened her lips before speaking. “Will it ease the ache I feel?”

“Oh yes,” Lucien assured her. “I will not stop kissing you until it does.” He did not make the promise lightly, fully intended to lick and suck and penetrate her with his tongue and fingers until he had given this woman every measure of the pleasure she had never known.

“And your own…ache?” Those dark brown eyes, so at odds with her fair coloring, suddenly seemed huge as she glanced down apprehensively at the telling bulge at the front of his pantaloons.

He caressed several strands of her loosened hair away from her flushed cheek. “Tonight we are intent only on your pleasure.”

“That seems somewhat…selfish.”

Lucien found himself unable to look away from the pink tip of her tongue as it ran lightly across her bottom lip a second time. In anticipation of tasting
him
? No, he could not make such an assumption of a woman who had so far known pain rather than pleasure in lovemaking.

Her
pleasure was his only goal this evening.

“This is a night for you to be selfish, pet,” he encouraged, then lowered his head to draw one of her nipples into his mouth. He suckled even as he raised his head so he could observe her response to that caress. The black of her pupils almost obliterated the brown, the flush having deepened in her cheeks, and her lips were parted as she breathed raggedly.

She had never looked more beautiful.

Lucien continued to suckle her nipples alternately as he drew the gown from her arms before sliding it down and then discarding it completely. He lifted his head to admire her now clothed only in a tight white corset that pushed her breasts up even higher, her unfastened drawers, and stockings held up by white garters adorned with pink rosebuds.

Beautifully wanton
.

His engorged and rigid cock gave a painful throb, and he could feel the juices escaping the slit at its tip. He chose to ignore these indications of his own state of arousal to instead hold Rachel’s gaze with his as he eased her drawers farther down before discarding them to the carpeted floor.

“Part your legs for me, pet,” he encouraged, then moved down to the bottom of the chaise.

“Part…? I am not sure…” She looked alarmed at his suggestion.

Lucien gave her a reassuring smile. “I wish to see you here,” he reminded, his fingers running lightly over her curls and into the heat of her cleft. “To kiss your pussy and taste your juices.”

Her cheeks flamed with color at his use of language. “I… Do… Is that quite proper?”

He chuckled throatily. “It is distinctly
im
proper. But I should like to do it anyway.” He eyed her quizzically. “Have I done anything so far you do not like?”

Rachel liked it all too much, that was the problem. What if she became addicted to Lucien’s lovemaking? What if James, in spite of the fact she had never enjoyed a single one of their intimate encounters, had seen something in her, and she really was that slut and whore—

“What are you thinking about?” Lucien demanded sternly.

She shook her head. “I… Someone said I was… They accused me of being a slut and a whore—”

“You are neither of those things!” Lucien assured her firmly. He moved up the chaise to sit beside her and cup her cheeks in his hands as he lifted her face up to his. “Whoever said those things only did so to hurt you. You are a beautiful and vibrant woman who has too long been denied the pleasure of your own body.”

“But what if I come to like this—these things—too much?”
 

“There is no such thing. Have no fear, Rachel, I will very much enjoy ensuring every one of your desires is met.”

“But—”

“When we are together like this, you will not think of anyone else. Not what they said, not what they did. Say it, Rachel.”

She was held captive in that deep compelling gaze. “I will not think of anyone else when I am with you.”

“All of it,” he insisted.

“Not what they said, not what they did,” she repeated obediently.

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders, and he smiled his approval. “You are a very beautiful and responsive woman who has been mistreated and unappreciated. I feel honored that you have chosen me to be the first man to give you pleasure.”

Rachel realized that implied he expected there to be more men after him who would do the same.

What had she expected? That Lucien Brooke, Viscount Brooketon, a man who had proven to be elusive on the marriage mart these past twenty years, would actually fall in love with her? If that was her hope, her dream, then she was still that naïve and romantic child.

With Lucien, she was determined to be a woman. One who did not make demands or expect promises of a future, but who accepted what he wished to share with her.

She raised her arms and linked them about his nape as she drew him to her. “Kiss me, Lucien.” It had been impossible for her to think of anything else earlier when Lucien claimed her with his lips and hands.