The Notorious Scoundrel (17 page)

E
dmund’s horse pranced about the crowded Hyde Park trail. It was half past six in the afternoon, too early in the day for him to take himself off to the rat pits or pugilist arenas. He needed the distraction, the amusement of a pounding ride, yet the three-hundred-and-forty-acre parkland still teemed with the city’s most fashionable dwellers.

He frowned. A bloody storm was approaching. Wasn’t the threat of rain and wind persuasive enough to curtail the daily parade of nobility? To send the fastidious lords and ladies scampering indoors? Apparently nothing tempted the
haute monde
from their cherished rituals.

Was she here? he wondered. Strolling with the rest of the riders?

Edmund dismissed the thought and sighed as he dismounted. He steered the gelding toward a wooded niche and tethered the beast to a low-hanging branch, waiting for the other riders to vacate the park.

He glanced through the patches in the leaves, noted
the brewing gray clouds. Thunder rumbled and rolled across the heavens. He imagined galloping through the deserted oasis, the downpour washing away the restless fire that burned in his bones. He itched for the freedom, the comfort.

I will never be happy so long as you’re in my life.

He hardened at the reflection. He made the woman miserable, did he? He soiled her ducal presence with his lowly upbringing?

Edmund snorted. He should have stayed away from
Lady
Amy. He should have listened to his better judgment, not heeded Quincy’s rot about the ball. The duke had espoused the same belief, that Edmund didn’t belong with his daughter. He accepted that now. He accepted the truth: he wasn’t good enough for anything.

“Edmund?”

The lily softness in her voice caused his muscles to stiffen even more. He snatched the reins from the tree without even glancing her way. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve sneaked away from my chaperone to talk with you. Edmund, wait!”

He stalked deeper into the woods. “I wouldn’t want to make you unhappy with my company, Lady Amy.”

She rounded him and set her hands across his chest. “Don’t call me that.”

He stopped. The muscles at his breast capered under her warm palms. She looked so bloody beautiful in her riding outfit with wide brown skirt and matching coat,
clipped at her hips and snugly hugging her bosom. The woman’s long and wavy blond locks spilled over her spine. She had a riding cap, pitched to one side of her head. And he observed the riding crop pinched between her fingers; it rested against him like a lash, and he bristled at the thought that he was her pageboy in need of a sound whipping.

“What should I call you then?” he demanded. “Zarsitti?”

Thunder groaned as the wind whooshed through the trees, stirring the leaves into a cacophony of rustling jabber, twisting her hair wildly, too.

“I feel like her almost all the time.” A sadness entered her brilliant green eyes. “I hate her. She’s robbed me of myself. I will never evade her, will I?”

He resisted the mawkish desire to put his arms around her. He tightened his grip on the leather reins instead. “You have my sympathy.”

“Don’t patronize me, Edmund.” She tucked her loose locks behind her ears. “You don’t know what it’s like, keeping a tainted past secret, praying your former misdeeds don’t come to light and shame your family, those you love most.”

The rain started, a light shower. He watched the droplets strike her cheeks, watched her swipe at the pearled beads as if she was swatting at tears. It welled inside him, the resemblance between their situations, and the truth lessened the darkness in his soul.

“I understand,” he said in an even manner.

He, too, had to safeguard his past to protect his sister
from disgrace, his brothers from the noose. It was a burden at times, a weighty yoke.

“How can you understand, Edmund? You live as a mariner and a gentleman, and the world treats you accordingly.” She pointed at herself with the riding crop. “But I have to hide who I am—was. I have to pretend I’m worthy of the title ‘Lady’ Amy.”

“You
are
a lady.”

“No!” She shuddered. “I was a lady. Once. I’m just pretending to be one now.” She looked at him with such fierceness in her eyes. “It’s why I can’t be with you, Edmund. I can’t offer you friendship.”

“Fine,” he gritted.

The horse snorted as lightning flickered in the distance.

“You keep her alive.” She hit her bust with her fist. “You keep Zarsitti alive. Do you understand?”

He frowned. “No.”

She stepped nearer to him, setting his senses alight with her warm proximity, her intoxicating scent.

“Being with you means keeping Zarsitti breathing, her heart burning, wanting, desiring things I can never have.” She munched on her bottom lip. “And if I’m ever to be happy, if I’m ever to accept my new position in life, I have to let her go.”

“Fine. You never have to see me again.”

A white light sparked.

The kiss was hard.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he bristled at the bold, unexpected gesture. At first, he
believed the lightning had pierced him, scorched him straight to his toes, but then the passion in her mannerisms convinced him it was the hunger in her mouth unleashing the fire in his belly. She wanted him, despite her protestations to the contrary.

Edmund released the reins, he looped the leather lead over the nearest branch and slipped his arms around Amy’s midriff, squeezing her in a tight embrace.

The rain beat hard. The thick shade of summer leaves sheltered the couple from the brunt of the storm. Lightning cracked like a blistering explosion, followed by the low moan of thunder. Amy moaned, too. He sensed the vibrations in her throat. He tasted the sweet rainwater on her lips as the leaves slowly softened and sagged under the pressure of the tempest, gradually soaking through their attire.

Edmund moved his fingers across her spine and snagged them in her moist hair, tugging at her locks, pulling her away.

Amy gasped as he ended the kiss; her cap slipped and landed in the grass. She stared at him with a dreamy expression, a lustful look. He stiffened at the sight of her swollen lips, so sinfully tempting.

“You’re not behaving like a lady, Amy…or am I kissing Zarsitti?”

“I-I’m both, I guess.”

The muscles in his back firmed at her words. “You’re not both.”

He still gripped her midriff, keeping her flush against him. With his other hand still secured in her tresses, he
was only a short distance from her lips…yet their positions in life separated them by leagues.

“You can’t be both,” he said roughly. “I know it’s impossible to be two different souls. The duality will destroy you one day.”

Something glistened in the deep green pools of her eyes. “That’s why I need you now.”

The white light flashed, spooking the tethered horse, who snorted and struggled with the secured trappings.

“You don’t need me. Now or ever.” He bussed her lips. “You fit in with society just fine. You
are
a lady.” He twisted his fingers even more tightly in her wet hair. “It’s your rightful home.”

“Th-then I want you.”

The rain dribbled between his stiff collar and hot flesh; it trickled down his backside and bathed his pulsing muscles.

“That is a different matter,” he said gruffly.

He guided her head, pulled her back toward his mouth, and kissed her with the same gusto as the rowdy storm. She filled his veins with a thirst for existence. In her arms, there was purpose and meaning in his soul. In her arms, he was at peace.

The lass’s skirt ballooned around his legs. He rolled with her in the grass, pinned her against the ground as he deepened the kiss. He didn’t even remember falling to the turf with her, but the fierce noise and heavy rain that surrounded their undulating bodies washed away so many senses.

The deep, booming beats of his heart anchored him in the moment, maintained some semblance of order in his head as he guided her skirts over her legs, rubbing her soft calves draped in silk stockings, stroking the sensitive undersides of her knees.

“I want you, Edmund.”

He pressed his hand between her legs and fingered her moist quim. “I know.”

She bucked her hips and gasped, pinched his wet, straggly hair between her fingers as if he might flee from her.

“Do you think I could walk away from you now?”

Do you think I could ever walk away from you, Amy?

He had tried; he believed it the right thing to do. And yet…

She rasped between kisses, “I think the gentleman inside you might trounce the scoundrel.”

He snorted. “You don’t know me very well, Amy.”

She laughed. Amid the hellish weather, the restless wants teeming inside them, she laughed. It cut through his bones, the unexpected joy in her voice, and he hardened for her even more.

“Have you ever done this before, Amy?”

“I’ve seen it a hundred times.”

At the Pleasure Palace.

He unfastened his trousers in quick strokes. “That’s not what I asked you.”

More lightning flared throughout the treetops. He shielded Amy’s body from the rain, the frantic, side-
stepping horse, covered her with his length as he positioned his hips between her soft legs.

“No,” she admitted, breathless.

He looked into her eyes, filled with expectation, desire. He kissed her with a deep, thrumming need. He was engrossed with the feral, rutting instinct, yet somewhere in the rational part of his thoughts, he remembered her condition and slipped inside her with a steady thrust.

She stiffened and bared her teeth. He closed his eyes and settled within her, maintained his position, giving her the time she needed to adjust to the feel of him. The savage impulse to bump his hips, give her a thorough bedding, gripped him. He beat back the wild craving.

As soon as he sensed her muscles ease, as soon as he heard her audible sigh, he opened his eyes and rocked his hips.

“You feel so good, Amy.”

He groaned at the tight, slick sensation of her. The rain poured over her legs, lubricated her thighs, making his entry even smoother. He had never tasted such delicious passion. He was tangled in her hair, her arms, her legs. She ensnared him with her being. And he blessedly welcomed the feeling of being bound by her…to her.

Amy closed her eyes and cradled Edmund’s head. He was soaked, heavy with rain. His hair was rough and teeming with beaded moisture that dripped over her flushed features as he slowly pumped inside her.

The drops splashed on her cheeks, rolled down
her throat and between her breasts, tickling her. She gasped for air, moaned. She was lost amid the whirling winds and biting rain. The scoundrel’s steady yet tender thrusts teased her other senses with distracting precision. She wasn’t sure about anything in the world right then but his sensual penetration.

She opened her eyes and stared into a pair of deep blue pools. The connection between them intensified. Her heart thumped with vigor, her muscles undulated at a matching tempo. She harmonized her movements with his, as in a dance…an erotic dance.

It welled within her, the thought that she was dancing with Edmund without her veil, that her muscles and limbs rolled and rocked in sensuous waves with the scoundrel, the stormy heavens their music.

He pressed his mouth—his sardonic mouth with an upturned quirk—over her lips, savored her. She adored his mouth…

“I adore your mouth.”

She blushed at the sound of husky chuckling. Had she uttered the intimate reflection aloud? Amy munched on her bottom lip; however, he quickly offered her another heated kiss, appeasing her chagrin with the sound strokes of his passionate mouth.

He tasted so bloody good, too, but she was sure to keep that thought private as she hugged his sinewy biceps. The pressure at her apex was starting to build, a low and teasing ache.

She lifted her legs slightly.

He pushed deeper inside her.

He groaned at the added room. She groaned, too, the girth of him stretching her, filling her with its thick arousal. The virginal pain had whittled away with each soft stroke, replaced with a feeling of pleasure: soul-wringing pleasure.

She scraped her fingernails over his neck. “Edmund…”

She wasn’t sure what she was asking for; the words trailed away.

“I know, Amy.”

He smothered her with kisses as his hands cupped her hip bones and his penetrations deepened, quickened. She gasped with new awareness. Yes, it was what she wanted. It was…

The electric light flickered, a bright flash that blinded her for a second. She witnessed the colorful spots swirling in her line of vision as the thunder boomed, the crescendos overhead.

An urgency gripped her. A primitive instinct took over her senses and guided her body. She lifted her hips as he bored down on her, the contact more intimate, the friction more intense. She wanted him with such abandon, she neglected all other thoughts, all other feelings in light of the brilliant moment.

“Oh, Edmund!”

She chewed on his ear nestled near her lips with wicked delight. The strain between her legs snapped. She cried out. The muscles shuddered, pulsed with release. The scoundrel drummed her core with piercing
strokes before he poured himself into her, as well. He groaned with pleasure, his dark growls snatched away by the howling winds.

Amy was breathless. She trembled in Edmund’s arms, bemused. He still smothered her with his figure, protected her from the elements. Yet she was weak. She wondered if she possessed the strength to stand. She didn’t care. Not really. She was more mindful of her heated tussle with the scoundrel. She wanted to remain in his arms, right there in the sheltered wood. The trees concealed their intertwined bodies. The tempest guarded their sensual shouts. The storm surrounded them: two wet butterflies fresh from cocoons. She didn’t want to leave the haven. She didn’t want to leave him.

Edmund stroked her brow with his fingertips, brushed away the moist lines of hair. “I didn’t think I’d meet with you when I ventured into the park today.”