The Wickedest Lord Alive (25 page)

She reached her chamber, grateful for the warmth of the fire. The days might be sunny, but the nights at Harcourt were chill.

Lizzie removed the Pomona green shawl and set it over a chairback, wondering where Beth was. But as she turned to ring the bell for her maid, she saw him and gave a sharp cry.

Xavier. Dressed only in his shirt sleeves and trousers, lounging in a wingback chair.

Excitement and longing rose inside her, but she wrestled them into submission, forcing herself to sound calm. “You must not be here. You must go at once.”

He wasn’t looking at her, she realized. He was staring into the flames.

She saw a wine bottle at his elbow, an empty glass dangling from his hand. And his eyes, when they turned to her, held none of the mockery, the malice, nor even the desire she’d seen there before. They were utterly bleak.

Her self-righteous indignation disappeared, along with her fear. She hurried to him, removed the glass from his resistless fingers and set it down.

“Xavier?” she whispered. “What is it?”

As if he’d only now registered she was in the room, his eyelids flickered. His attention traveled slowly to her, but he did not speak. It was as if there was too much pain in him to give voice to it.

“What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” Her voice rose in concern. She’d never seen him like this before.

“Xavier?” Tentatively, she placed her palm on his chest. She wasn’t sure why she did this, but the hardness of his chest, and the steady beat of his heart inside it, reassured her in some strange way she couldn’t pinpoint.

His gaze lowered to her hand, then lifted to her face. He stared deeply into her eyes; his lips parted as if he would speak, but no sound came out.

Not knowing what else to do, she leaned down to him and touched her lips to his.

Softly, she brushed his mouth in the lightest of kisses, a wordless offer of comfort. That something was very, very wrong she did not doubt. Something so horrible, he could not even find the will to repel her questions with a sarcastic remark.

She’d never imagined seeing him like this. He frightened her. But he drew her, too.

He didn’t respond to her quiet caresses, but he didn’t push her away. She wanted to get closer. She framed his face in her hands, sinking her fingertips into his thick, dark hair. She deepened the kiss, stroked her tongue into his mouth, and with a groan that spoke of agony as much as pleasure, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down to him.

He kissed her with a blatant, animal hunger that he’d never shown her before. As if he needed her, needed this. She was glad to give him what he needed. Even while his suffering struck at her heart, joy filled her that she had the power to grant him this small measure of ease.

Still kissing her, still holding her, he rose to his feet and carried her to the bed.

“Yes,” she said, in case he had any doubts after her previous resistance. “I want you, Xavier.”

Love me as I love you.

“God, I can’t slow down. I must have you now,” he groaned in her ear. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

She wasn’t sure what that meant. She merely closed her eyes and surrendered to the feelings he conjured inside her.

The encounter was strangely like and yet wholly different from their first time. He did not speak, and nor did he pause to remove their clothes. This occasion, however, it was his need for her, for the comfort of her body, that drove him. Not the imperative of getting a job over and done.

She could forgive any lack of finesse because she felt, finally, that she was more to him than a vessel for his children. For his heir.

With what seemed like teeth-clenching restraint, he entered her slowly, inching forward. His hands lifted her legs, encouraging her to wrap them around his waist as her skirts shushed between them. Then he surged forward until he filled her to the hilt.

There was no sting this time, only a tight fit and delicious friction and sparkles of pleasure as he stroked inside her, his body powerful and gentle at once.

She wished, this time, that they’d removed their clothing, That she might feel his skin, see the definition in his chest and arms. But the thought flitted away as he slid his hand between them to touch her. His thumb pressed the fleshy knot above the place they were joined, and slowly circled and circled, taking her high as a bird in flight.

For moments, she hung in a haze of bliss. Then an explosion of pleasure took her so violently that her back arched as he stroked into her over and over, driving her climax to a peak.

His own crisis followed swiftly. He thrust into her hard and fast, pumping his seed into her womb.

*   *   *

She was his now. Finally, irrevocably his.

He wasn’t altogether sure why she’d allowed it. Truth to tell, for once, his mind wasn’t equal to analyzing the situation. For the moment, he would simply accept it. He could dissect the whys and wherefores in the morning.

Xavier turned his head to look at her. She stared up at the canopy overhead, her face inscrutable.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept the night through, and yet a pleasant, druglike lassitude flowed through him now. He could easily fall asleep in her arms. But while that would be an unprecedented boon for him, it would not please her.

At least while losing himself in Lizzie, he’d managed to keep the demons at bay. Now, as he struggled against this strange sense of relaxation, the demons poured back into his mind like a screaming horde of Vandals.

He exhaled sharply, rubbed his face with his hands.

“Xavier?” She turned to him, raising herself on her elbow, propping her head on her hand.

Her silky white-blond hair tangled around her face with an abandon that was at once uncharacteristic and infinitely tempting. He speared his fingers through it and brought her down to him for a kiss.

She returned his kiss with open enthusiasm, and when her hand stroked down his chest to his stomach, incredibly, his cock stirred. How could this long-legged sylph excite him so?

This time, he would take her slowly, saturate her with pleasure until she could absorb no more.

“Let us shed these, hmm?” He said, indicating their clothes.

He sat up and pulled his shirt over his head, threw it down.

She’d been about to protest or make some sort of maidenly demur. He could tell by the slight purse of her lips.

But her green eyes widened at the sight of his naked torso. As if she’d never seen a man without his shirt before.

He rose from the bed and pulled her up with him, turning her so that he might undo her gown at the back.

“So many tiny buttons,” he murmured. She shivered as the green silk fell away from her and pooled on the floor.

“Now the petticoats.” With a couple of practiced flicks at the tapes, those fell away, too.

In the still silence of that bedchamber, she was panting with anticipation. His own breathing was a trifle strained, he’d admit.

Still standing behind her, he paused to look up, past her shoulder. The looking glass opposite told him her breasts rose like two perfect apples above the line of her shift, her skin gilded by firelight. She’d removed her slippers or they’d fallen off at some stage. Her slender calves and pretty ankles, still clad in stockings, made his mouth water.

He would leave those stockings on, he decided.

Xavier’s fingers actually trembled as he dealt with the laces of her stays. Tempted by the vulnerable curve at her nape, he leaned forward to trace that elegant line with his lips.

As she gave a pleasured moan, the stays opened and came away. He dropped the corset on the floor.

Now, lastly, her shift.

He reached down to its hem and pushed it up, lightly skimming her calves with his knuckles as he went.

At her thighs, he lingered a little, tempted to delve between her legs, to tease her to climax with his hands. He waited, long enough to hear her breath coming faster as if she guessed at his thoughts. He smiled and continued on to her buttocks, caressing them, feeling his rod harden with the urge to bend her over and drive home.

But it was Lizzie’s turn now. Further depravities could wait. He would initiate her into the many ways they might enjoy each other’s bodies before too long. Now he’d make her mindless with pleasure, make her crave his touch every waking hour and into her dreams.

He forced himself to abandon the delights of her derriere and push the shift farther up, pausing again to slide his hands around to caress her breasts. Her nipples were tight points of flesh. He played with them, and her head fell back against his shoulder as she arched into his touch. His cock strained against his trousers as if he hadn’t enjoyed a mind-blistering orgasm only half an hour before.

Closing his eyes, he continued to caress her, paying particular attention to the things that made her breathe harder, made her whimper with excitement.

“Raise your arms for me.” She complied, and he plucked the shift from her body and turned her in his embrace.

He kissed her gently, tempting her, teasing her tongue to come out to play. Her breasts pressed to his chest, and he ran his hand down her back in a soft caress.

That’s when he felt it. A single, raised ridge of flesh on her lower back.

Jesus!

His eyes snapped open, and even while he kissed her, her reflection in the mirror beyond told him he hadn’t imagined what he’d felt there.

A long, thin scar ran diagonally from the top of one buttock to a point perhaps a third of the way up her back.

Bute
.

He squeezed his eyes shut, felt the white-hot sear of the lash as if he’d taken the beating himself, sucked in their mingled breaths in a shuddering inhale. He kissed her fiercely. He ought rather to be gentle in light of that scar. Yet there was such a mixture of need and ardor and fury in him, there was no containing it.

He wanted to demand the truth from her, drag the story out. He had the horrible, sick suspicion he knew in what cause that single lash had been dealt.

But he retained enough sense to decide against raising it now. He did not think it wise to question Lizzie about the scar when he was in the middle of making love to her. She might feel ashamed or self-conscious, however misplaced those emotions might be. And how could he explain to her that her scar only made her more precious? He did not understand that part himself.

These things flew through his brain in seconds, even while he delved into her mouth with his tongue, urged her against him with a firm hand on her buttocks.

Explanations could wait. Talking rarely helped anyway. Avenging her would be a matter he would pursue alone. He’d ruined Bute, hounded him from the country, but now, that was not punishment enough.

He turned and lifted Lizzie back onto the bed, then bared his feet and shed his trousers.

His cock was hard and ready, and when he turned to her, he heard her soft gasp. He realized it was the first time she’d seen his body. He let her look, and the feel of her watching him, taking in his size and the aggressive jut of his penis, made him harder still.

The skin of her cheeks and the upper slopes of her breasts was flushed bright pink. Her green eyes were heavy-lidded, sultry with desire.

He had always thought the male member an odd-shaped thing. But the unfeigned hunger on her face when she lowered her attention to his groin made him feel like a king. His balls tightened and the throb in his cock intensified.

This was going to demand every reserve of control he possessed.

He leaned in to kiss her, lowering her back down to the mattress, doing his best to ignore his own pounding need.

He licked her nipple, a slow lave that made her moan softly and writhe beneath him. He swirled his tongue hard against her areole and reached down to touch her.

She was hot and wet down there, lush and inviting. He all but groaned as he pushed one finger inside her, then two. With his thumb, he rubbed gently at her clitoris while his fingers stroked in and out of her.

He drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked while his fingers worked and his cock throbbed mightily with want.

He drove her to the brink three times, until she was whimpering and begging him to finish it. When he finally let her come, her climax was so violent, she let out a hoarse scream that he smothered with his mouth.

She lay there, a trembling tangle of slender beauty, begging for respite, but he was merciless. He lay down beside her and turned her on her side with her back to him.

*   *   *

Oh, God, there was more? Lizzie felt him, big and hard, pressing into her from behind.

She held very still, unsure of how this was meant to work, or even whether it was not extremely wicked and unladylike to be so curious and accepting of this strange position.

She needn’t have bothered to concern herself with that. There was an implacability about Xavier despite the gentle way he parted her slick folds of flesh with his fingers, before guiding his member into her.

Her inner passage resisted him at first, but the moisture eased the hot, hard slide. She shuddered as he filled her, and even as he stroked so gently into her and out again, she sensed he held his passion under tight control.

A wild desire to have him use her roughly and without constraint rose within her. She pushed back against him on the return stroke and he caught his breath.

His hand moved from her hip to cover her breast, lifting it, running his palm over her nipple. He moved, and again she pushed back, tightening on him in reaction to the pleasure that spiked through her when he played with her breast.

On a groan, he brought her upright to a kneeling position, still inside her, still behind her he pulled her down onto him, both hands smoothing up her body to cover her breasts, his breath heavy and hot in her ear.

He nuzzled the crook of her neck, licking and kissing there, making her shiver with the dark thrills that raced down her spine.

He discovered the junction between her neck and shoulder and nipped it lightly with his teeth, making her jerk in response.