Wicked Angel (30 page)

Suddenly, the pressure in her spiraled upward and out of control. She convulsed against him as her entire body burst into a thousand pinpricks of light. A cry of pure pleasure stuck in her throat as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her. Her body felt weightless; she would have sworn she floated above the bed. Alex's strokes took on a new urgency; he answered her soft gasps with a low growl before throwing his head back and pouring his seed deep within her. With a final, powerful thrust, a guttural moan emanated from his throat before he collapsed on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows.

When she could focus at last, she smiled brilliantly, in a state of complete euphoria. "
Alex
," she whispered. He smiled, stroking her cheek with his knuckles. She could not have dreamed it would be so intimate, so
giving
. Her eyes filled with tears that she tried to blink away.

Alex immediately cupped her face in his hands, muttering an oath under his breath. "I hurt you, didn't I?

Darling, I did not know—why did you not tell me?" he moaned as a fat tear slipped down her

cheek. She laughed, surprising him, while more tears slipped from her eyes.

"Oh, Alex, I am so glad it was you," she murmured. She reached up and twirled a lock of his hair around her finger. "I… I never imagined it could be so wonderful between two people. I was terribly afraid I would never really know you," she said softly, a new flood of warmth filling her from head to toe. "And I so desperately wanted to
know
you."

He looked at her in amazement. She laughed giddily against his neck, never having felt so strong or secure in her life. God, she adored him, and without thinking, she suddenly blurted, "I love you, Alex, do you know that? I have loved you since the day you incited Lucy to almost kill me, and I cannot stop!"

She laughed again, a little hysterically. "I have tried and tried, I really have, but I cannot make myself not love you!"

Stunned by her admission of love, Alex held her tightly as she simultaneously sobbed and laughed into his neck. He rolled onto his side, still holding her. Moved by the simple sincerity in her declaration, he marveled at the depth of his understanding. God forgive him, but he was quite certain he loved her just as profoundly.

Which made the extraordinary experience they had just shared all the more difficult, something he forcibly blocked from his mind. "You are," he murmured, "the most beautiful woman in all of England. An angel.

A wicked little angel at that, for making me want you so badly."

She giggled. "Do you want me truly, Alex?"

"With all my heart, darling," he responded, somewhat amazed that he would admit as much.

"For… for just one night?" she asked hesitantly, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger.

God, if she only knew. "For a lifetime."

Her hand slipped away from his face, and she sank into the pillows. He propped himself on his elbow and gazed down at her, stroking her satin hair. "What are you thinking?"

"How cruel life is."

He said nothing for a long moment. He thought about the possibilities open to them, but the best he could imagine was the occasional visit to Rosewood, or secret trysts in London from time to time. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as she stared blankly at the canopy above them. He would not allow the magic between them to be marred with the cold reality of their lives. They had one night. He leaned over her and kissed the tip of her nose. "I will think of something, Lauren. I will find a way for us," he said soothingly, and claimed her lips again.

He made love to her again, slowly and gently, reaching another pinnacle of fulfillment he had not thought possible. But when the clock on the mantel struck three, the practical side of him took over.

They rode to Russell Square in silence, his arm wrapped protectively around her, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. She was still smiling, and he could not wrest his gaze away from the beauty he held in his arms. What they had shared had been the most fulfilling physical act of love in which he had ever engaged. He had never been so completely
possessed
in his entire life. Women had writhed beneath him before, but none had filled him with her response or had aroused him to new heights of fulfillment. But what really moved him was the discovery of something so primal, so inordinately masculine in the possession of her virginity. The impact on him was powerful—she was a part of him now. He had

claimed her, had touched her depths before any other man. She was his angel.
His
.

As the coach slowed on Russell Square, Lauren looked up, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

Strange, but he suddenly sensed an impending loss that made him oddly nervous. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he
should
say. And just as many things he should
not
say, had no
right
to say.

"Lauren, we must talk. I—"

"I love you, Alex. Do not say anything to discourage me," she whispered, smiling. "I know what the truth is, but this night belongs to us. Please, let's not spoil it." Her eyes implored him, and he was struck by the recognition that it was completely beyond his power to say no to her. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he climbed out of the coach, then helped her down. As she glanced furtively toward the town house, he was gripped again with the unnerving thought she was slipping away from him. Desperate, he caught her arm.

"I must see you again." Her lips parted, and he quickly shook his head. "Listen to me. I do not care about anything else, I just want…" The words died in his throat. What did he want? Goddammit, what did he really
want?
"Look, just come to me tomorrow," he said anxiously. "Vauxhall Gardens, nine o'clock, the small fountain near the entrance. Do you know which one I mean? Tell Hill that you are to see Lady Darfield. Promise me you will come." He spoke quickly, frantically, the fingers of irrational fear curling around his heart. Fear he would lose forever what he had found tonight.

"Of course I will be there," she whispered, and leaning up on her tiptoes, kissed the corner of his mouth.

She giggled as she pried his fingers from her elbow, then turned and walked briskly toward the door of the town house.

"Don't be late!" he whispered loudly after her.

She tossed an alluring smile over her shoulder and shook her head. He watched as she skipped up the narrow little path and inside, the memory of her smile forever burned in his brain. How extraordinary, he thought, that he would gladly endure the flames of hell for a glimpse of that smile. How ironic that he was well on his way.

Euphoric and wildly in love, Lauren stepped into the darkened foyer and quietly shut the door behind her.

She had never felt so wonderfully complete in all her life. Nothing could have prepared her for the magic of being loved by Alex; her body still tingled with the delicious memory of it. As she slipped out of her cloak, she paused to rub the fabric against her face, recalling the feel of his hands on her skin.

"Enjoy the opera?"

Startled, she whirled around, dropping her cloak. Deep in the shadows, Paul was standing next to the armor. "You startled me!" She smiled, bending to retrieve her cloak.

Paul did not return her smile. "Bergen was here earlier, waiting for you, until it became apparent you were not coming home from the opera. Where did you go?" he asked quietly.

"Ah… to a gathering at Harrison Green's," she lied, then asked hastily, "where is Ethan?"

Paul's expression was dubious at best. "In bed. He tired rather quickly from all the cackling about the five hundred thousand pounds a year the duke apparently earns."

"Oh," she said softly.

"I was under the distinct impression when you left here tonight that you were not interested in his company. In fact, I thought you were most decidedly set against it."

"I suppose the evening was better than I anticipated," she murmured. "I had a wonderful time, Paul," she said, conscious that she smiled too brightly.

"I see," he said, and for a moment, Lauren feared that he did. He said nothing, just stood looking at her.

Peering right through her. Uncomfortable, she turned and carefully hung her cloak on a wall peg. He sighed wearily. "Lauren, do you know what you are doing?"

She laughed nervously and turned to face him. "Doing?"

"Magnus is a good man. He truly cares for you."

"Goodness, Paul, what are you talking about?"

He moved out of the shadows. "I want to see you happy. Magnus is a good man. He will honor you above all others."

Still reeling from her incredible experience, Paul's sudden and uncharacteristic support of Magnus made her thoughts spin like a top. "Are we speaking of the same Magnus?" she asked incredulously. "Count Magnus Bergen of Bavaria? The one you despise?"

"I have a changed opinion."

"Well, I do not," she said sharply and began to walk toward the stairs.

Paul's hand shot out and painfully gripped her wrist as she attempted to pass. "He will marry Marlaine Reese, Lauren. Nothing is going to change that.
Nothing
. You are only harming yourself with this foolishness!"

Appalled, Lauren jerked free. "You presume too much, Paul! Have you forgotten
that you
are the one who made that foolish wager? I would not have gone tonight had it not been for that, and now you would fault me for enjoying it?"

Paul shook his head, dismissing her rebuke. "Listen to me! Ethan has exhausted our funds. We will return to Rosewood in a fortnight. If you do not accept Bergen's offer, you may not have another! At least with him, you may expect to live with respect and comfort."

She laughed bitterly. "Dear God, you must be awfully fearful of having a spinster sister!"

"That is ridiculous!" he snapped, then checked himself, glancing uneasily about the cluttered entry. "I only want what is best for you," he continued evenly. "I have invested wisely in stocks and securities, and I am very optimistic I can take care of Rosewood now. Do you not see? There is no longer any reason for you to toil away there, hoping to meet a man who will accept the children. Bergen accepts them. I have thought about it—we could arrange a betrothal agreement whereby you would live at Rosewood half of each year. That's not such a bad solution, and it
is
the best match you can hope for."

Lauren stumbled backward as if he had slapped her, bumping against the wall and rattling two crossed sabers hanging overhead. "I cannot believe what I am hearing! Those children are not a loathsome chore, I
love
them—you know that! Honestly, Paul, coming to London was not
my
idea—I do not
hope
to meet a man, you and Ethan hoped for that! And Magnus may be my best hope for a
match
,"

she said angrily, "but I do not want to marry him! I do not love him!"

The muscles of Paul's jaw bulged from the clenching of his teeth. He reached for her hand, but she quickly moved away from him. He slowly lowered his arm. "Forget Sutherland, Lauren. He will only hurt you, and I cannot bear to see that."

"For someone who does not want to see me hurt, you are doing a fine job of it," she shot back, and bolted up the stairs before he ruined her glorious night.

At noon the next day, Lauren awoke and smiled dreamily at the sunlight pouring through her window.

Her mind was on Alex, every masculine inch of him. In her dreams, she had relived each and every moment of her incredible experience with him. Even in the privacy of her room, her cheeks flushed pink at the memory of the passion they had shared. She could hardly wait to see him again and eagerly climbed out of bed, but a glance at the mantel clock made her groan. A wait of nine hours was not to be
borne
. With hands on hips, she glared at the clock, wondering how she would occupy her time if she had any hope of enduring the interminable wait.

She began her morning toilette, planning how she might pass the time. She decided to visit the infirmary this afternoon and then call on Abbey, thinking perhaps her friend or her maid could do something unique with her hair. And then,
then
she would meet the love of her life at Vauxhall Gardens.

A delightful little shiver ran through her as she recalled the urgency with which he had demanded to see her again, admonishing her not to be late. Paul was so very wrong! Alex felt the same as she did. He had said as much.
I will find a way for us
.

Oh God. She paused, glancing at her reflection in the mirror as an unexpected surge of guilt came over her. She felt a deep sorrow for Marlaine, but what could she do?

" _ 'My true love hath my heart and I have his, by just exchange one for the other given,' " _ she whispered aloud. Who could possibly predict where love's arrows would land? She had not sought it, it had just happened! Surely Marlaine would be able to understand there was nothing to be done for it. She shrugged off her guilt and went about her dressing, cheerfully humming the song from
The Two
Gentlemen of Verona
.

Still humming when she entered the dining room, she smiled broadly at Magnus and Ethan. At Magnus's dark look, she pertly tossed her head.

"There she is, just look at her! I knew the lass would fetch me a good annuity!" Ethan crowed before shoving a slab of buttered bread into his mouth. Magnus did not reply, but quietly sipped his tea, his icy blue eyes following Lauren's every move.

"Uncle, what on earth are you talking about?" Lauren smiled, then laughed giddily. Conscious that her glee was a bit inappropriate, she quickly took a seat across from Magnus and focused on the painted pattern of his teacup.

"Just what they were discussing in the clubs this morning! Sutherland at the opera with Countess Bergen!"

Ethan blithely continued.

The remark instantly sobered her; her hand stilled on the teapot and she shot a quick, appraising glance at her uncle. "What do you mean?"

"Talk is all over town!" he said, munching a thick slice of ham.