The Care and Feeding of Your Captive Earl (What Happens In Scotland Book 3) (8 page)

As she settled back against the headboard, her hands still knotted together, her dress and chemise sagged, revealing the tops of her swollen breasts. His gaze slid over her, and his body instantly came alive. His cock twitched and he cursed inwardly.

She was a damn temptress.

Raking his hand through his hair, he turned away from her and glanced up at the cracked ceiling, attempting to get his body under tight control.

“Matthias.” Gwen’s lilting voice called from behind him.

“What is it?” Frustration dripped from his tone, but it couldn’t be helped. It was taking every shred of his willpower to keep his hands off her.

“Is something wrong?”

He turned to face her and noted her smile. Any question he had about her intent to tempt him evaporated. Perhaps he should teach her the danger of toying with a man’s passions.

He scowled at her. “Do you find this amusing?”

She straightened her spine in a show of false indignation. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You are deliberately trying to tempt me.”

“And being trussed up as I am, how might I accomplish that particular feat?”

“Your dress” —his eyes skimmed down her body again— “is falling off your shoulders.”

She tugged on the ropes. “It seems unkind to blame me for such things when, clearly, I can do very little to remedy the situation.” She blinked up at him. “Perhaps you should untie me so I can secure the tapes.”

“Perhaps we should dispense with the dress altogether. Then there will be no need to concern ourselves.”

The shock on her face was almost worth the torment of this entire situation. He leaned over her and tugged the gown further down her arms, baring her breasts completely. With the limited movement her restraints afforded her, she immediately pulled her bodice back up.

“You are morally depraved,” she snapped.

“You are one to speak.”

“Don’t be tedious, Matthias. Yes, I kidnapped you. You needn’t bring it up at every opportunity.”

“I think it is time I taught you the perils of such an impulsive act of impropriety.”

She blinked. “And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?” She held up her bound wrists. “I am already tied like chattel.”

He moved to the side of the bed, her eyes following his every movement. Despite her casual words, she was on edge—he could see it in her eyes, in the way she moved farther back against the headboard.

Reaching down, he grabbed her slender ankle and tugged her forward. “Your first lesson is that men are not creatures to be toyed with.” His fingertips found her soft, shapely calf, and he nearly groaned aloud with need. “Once our passions are kindled, they are near impossible to extinguish. They can only be buried, temporarily silenced.”

She lifted her chin. “I am a lady, so
of course,
I haven’t any idea what you refer to, sir.”

He smiled slowly. Releasing her calf, he leaned forward and grasped her chin. “Oh, I think you know,” he whispered. “I think you know all too well the power you wield over men like me. And you are afraid of that power. Why else would you keep to the shadows in society?”

Silence filled every corner of the small room.

Amusement glinted in her eyes. “Are you telling me I wield power over you?”

If only she fucking knew.

“Men
like
me, love,” he lied.

“Mm.” She jerked her chin out of his grip. “I see.”

He placed his knee on the mattress and leaned over her. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “You do not liking feeling vulnerable. I believe that is why you move on to another actress or widow every week.”

It was true. Even his current mistress held little interest for him. Indeed, he’d gone to the Continent, searching for what, he didn’t know—something or some
one
more diverting, perhaps.

An unfamiliar sense of guilt swamped him, but he refused to acknowledge it. As he frequently did, he shoved the feeling down deep. Emotion didn’t suit him. He’d found it was a damned troublesome nuisance.

“Or perhaps…” he tugged her bodice down again and lowered his mouth to her exposed breast, “…it is merely my nature to be easily diverted,” he purred against her skin.

Her chest rose as she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. His tongue found the tip of her breast, swirling around her puckered nipple. Honey and cream. That was precisely how she tasted.
Delectable.
Unlike anything he’d ever sampled in his life.

“Dear God, Matthias,” she groaned. “Please do not be so cruel again.”

Her breasts were heavy and he took them in his palms, massaging them gently. She moaned somewhere deep in her throat, and the sound reverberated through his veins, exciting his own desire. His cock was hard and swollen to the point of pain.

Shifting, he pressed the ridge of his cock against her center through the fabric of their clothes. Heat. That was all he could feel. Sweet, encompassing heat—and it nearly undid him.

Perhaps he hadn’t thought this through entirely. He was tormenting himself just as readily and thoroughly as he was tormenting
her
.

Christ,
he must be mad.

But there was nothing to be done for it. It was far too late for him. He would embrace the madness; sink into the tender, dangerous, and riotous feelings she provoked in him. Fascination. Desire.
Affection
.

For years, he’d watched her—envisioning all the different ways he would explore her lush, curvaceous body. All the different ways he would take her, sliding his cock into her embracing heat. And this was it. The moment he would realize those imaginings. He would take
everything,
and regret nothing.

“W-what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I am going to make your body tremble.” Easing away, he flicked her skirts up, exposing her bottom half. “Do you object?”

She blinked up at him, her breasts still exposed. “No,” she said quietly.

She was a damned beautiful sight to behold. More beautiful than the practiced and sophisticated widows he typically formed liaisons with. The vulnerability in her eyes was refreshing.

“I didn’t hear you,” he said firmly.

It was a full heartbeat before she responded. “No,” she said, louder this time. “I do not object.”

“Good girl,” he said.

Placing a hand on her knee, he spread her thighs apart and with his free hand he slid two fingers into her. He groaned. She was already dripping wet and ready for him.

“God, Gwen. You are so tight.”

With his thumb, he found her clitoris and stroked it gently. She whimpered—a quiet sound that set his pulse racing. His cock twitched, hungry for a taste of her.

Licking her lips, she arched her back, her head digging into the pillow. “Oh, Matthias. Oh, my…”

Thrusting another finger into her, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her neck—biting, nipping at her flesh with his teeth as he pumped into her with his fingers. He continued to stroke her clitoris—wringing every whimper out of that pretty little mouth.

The sound was so intoxicating.

Dipping his head lower, he found her nipple and drew it into his mouth—sucking until she was twisting, moaning beneath him. After a few moments, he switched to the other breast, lavishing it with equally fervent attention—still pumping into her, pushing in deep.

When he felt her channel tighten, he pulled out of her and stood—sliding out of his breeches then lowering himself back onto the bed before she could protest.

Bracing himself above her, he pulled her legs up, hooking them around his arms—and then slowly, he pressed the length of his cock against her hot, wet slit—rubbing her to the brink of climax without penetrating.

Not yet.

“Mmm.”

“Look at me, Gwen.”

She obeyed, turning her head back to look him in the eyes.

“I am going to put myself inside of you. Do you know what that means?”

She worried her bottom lip for a moment before answering. “I believe I have an idea.”

“I am going to climax inside you, and then you will be mine.” He paused. “Do you understand?”

Nodding, she arched her hips—wordlessly begging him to continue.

Gripping his cock, he placed the tip at her entrance, pushing in only slightly.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes,” she breathed, frantic. “Yes, dear God, please forgive me for this.”

He froze.

Forgive me for this.

Her words—spoken so innocently—cut him to the core. It was as though a bucket of ice had been thrown over him, drenching his desire.

What was he doing?

Pulling away, he shook his head. He was corrupting a pure, vulnerable woman. And for what—his own base desires?

She deserved so much more than this, so much better than him…

* * *

When he pulled away, she felt deprived instantly. If she could have reached out for him, she would have. As it was, her restraints were pulled tight.

“We cannot do this,” he said flatly, tugging his breeches back on with clipped, agitated movements.

“What? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he grated. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Then why have you stopped?”

Perhaps she should not be so eager to rush to her own ruin, but when she was with Matthias, none of that mattered. Indeed, all sensible thought seemed to leave her head entirely. All she could rely on was the feel of his lips on her body, his tongue plunging inside her…

He turned away from her and released a heavy breath. “I am a rogue, Gwen.”

She straightened awkwardly, not at all shy that her breasts were exposed. Heaven knew he’d seen more of her than that. “Yes, I am well acquainted with your reputation, Matthias.”

“You don’t know the danger you have just avoided.”

She watched as the muscles flexed in his back as he reached for his shirt and tugged it over his head. He then turned and pulled at the ropes binding her to the bed until they unraveled, freeing her.

Crushed by his rejection, she struggled to hold back the tears as she covered herself. “What is wrong with me?”

“You are an innocent,” he said, finally turning to look at her. “And nothing you have done justifies my taking that from you.”

“You take nothing.” She rubbed her wrists. “I am giving it freely.”

He shook his head again, his brow pinched. “You do not know what you are saying.”

Anger drenched his tone—but she hadn’t any idea if he was angry with her or angry with himself for his imagined offense. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps they were too eager to do something they might later come to regret.

Still, she trembled with the memory of his touch. Every muscle in her body was drawn tight, desperate for release. This was the truest torment she’d ever known, desiring something—some
one
—she could not have. And having him so close, within reach, was tearing her up inside. She wished things were different, that she was free to do as she liked.

“I know it is wrong, Matthias, what I desire from you. But it’s as though my body is acting of its own volition. It is difficult to explain.”

“I think I know what you mean,” he said flatly.

A thread of pain coiled tight in her chest. It was clear he regretted what they had already done—and it was her fault entirely. She had pushed him to this. Had she not kidnapped him, had she not forced him to remain alone with her in this house, they would not be in this impossible predicament.

“I am sorry, Matthias.” She swallowed. “I did not mean for this to happen. You must believe me. I only meant to help a friend.”

He released a heavy breath, and glanced down. “Every decision has a price, Gwen, and I believe our debts will soon be called in.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

When Matthias returned to the bedchamber an hour later, he found her asleep on the bed. He moved into the room and sat on the mattress, taking in her delicate features.

She was beautiful. With her eyes closed, her lips slightly pursed, she looked like a damn angel. He brushed his finger down her cheek and her lips twitched. His chest tightened in response.

Christ,
what was happening to him?

He wanted to protect her, claim her.
Own
her. Never before had he felt so possessive of a woman.

Matthias paced the room.

He should never have touched her. She was a well-bred lady, an innocent. Widows, actresses, ballet dancers—women who knew what they wanted and how to get it—were his preference. He had no wish to ruin a woman’s reputation.

And yet…If he did not take Gwen soon, he would go mad. His cock was eternally alert in her presence, in desperate need of the relief only she could give. But taking her would only ruin her further.

His mind was cast back to the first moment he met her. As soon as she’d come stumbling out into the garden—and
into
the fountain—he’d had an unquenchable fascination with her.

And that fascination had only grown over the years, matured into something nearing obsession. He’d hidden it admirably. And with the aid of every widow north of the Thames, he’d managed to keep a tight rein on his feelings. But now that he’d tasted her—now that he’d sampled heaven, there would be no turning back. He would have her, come any obstacle.

He stood and walked to the window, glancing out at the wild Scottish landscape beyond. Gray clouds drifted overhead as heavy raindrops pelted the ground. He’d planned on walking to the nearest village as soon as he’d freed himself, but the rain had impeded his plan. He wouldn’t risk Gwen’s health by dragging her out into the rain. They had no horses, and no one was returning for several days yet.

Glancing back at the bed, jaw clenched, he wondered how long he could keep his hands off her. Trapped together in this house, it wasn’t likely to be long. Already, he craved that taste of her lips again, longed to properly explore the dips and curves of her body.

But she deserved so much better than him. He was not even worthy of his own mother’s affections—surely there was some flaw in him to cause such an estrangement. What brand of son cannot win his own mother’s love?