A Whisper of Desire (21 page)

To her relief he took her mouth in a bruising kiss, the urgency addictive. Her hips rose, caressing his giant hardness, coating him in her juices. He groaned with pleasure at that, and she did it again, hoping to make him lose control. He responded with wild kisses, his hands running over her body as if he had never touched her before.

“Roll over, on your knees, now,” he commanded.

She
had
promised him anything he wanted. An image of a position in her hidden book sprung to mind and excitement coursed through her trembling limbs.

Reaching round her waist, he pulled her back to meet him, pushing her legs farther apart. One hand pulled the pins from her hair, freeing it so it tumbled down over her bare shoulders. He bent over her back, wrapping a fist into her hair, pulling slightly. The bite of pain added to the anticipation as she felt his rampant erection prod her from behind.

“I've never taken a woman from behind. Never let myself indulge in anything other than me being on top.” He ran his member through her juices, making her press back, wanting him deep within her.

Soon he slid slowly inside her until he was buried to the hilt. She'd never felt so filled. He was buried deep, his thick cock pulsing, causing her inner muscles to contract round him.

He shuddered and then suddenly he stilled, remaining motionless, his groans of pleasure rolling from deep in his chest.

“God, you feel so good. I'm so deep. You're so hot, so tight, I can't move,” he murmured.

They stayed this way, panting in unison. Just when she thought she couldn't bear to stay still one moment longer, he began to move. Slowly at first, but soon the grip on her hair tightened, his questing cock foraging more deeply into her body's wet, welcoming heat.

Marisa's body was on fire with desire. This was so different than the other times they'd made love. She could feel his wonder, his joy in the physical act. He was truly making love to her for the first time. She felt his every blissful pulsation, every quiver of muscles, as he plowed into her from behind, the grip on her hair as tight as the grip on her hip.

His excitement, his hard length moving so surely in and out of her, saw her desire quickly build, too. His hand moved over her hip round to the front to stroke her hardened nub. His pace quickened, his powerful thighs rubbing hers, his sacs making contact with each powerful thrust. Marisa let herself fly free, a cry of anguished delight wrenched from her lips. Each deep stroke was divine, as Maitland let his control vanish and gave himself completely over to pleasure. The bed was rocking and she had to brace herself on her arms to stay up on her knees.

His groans grew in volume and she looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes were closed, his neck taut, sweat dripping from his forehead as he pounded into her. She had never seen anything so erotic. She could feel his control hanging by a thread, as was her own. “Maitland,” she cried.

His eyes flew open; his storm-tossed stare tore through her and she orgasmed immediately, tightening around his steely thickness buried deep within her.

“Christ, Marisa. Yes…” He dropped his head back. “Oh, God, perfect…”

They climaxed together with loud, ragged cries filling the bedchamber. He collapsed onto her, her weakened knees gave out, and she fell facedown onto the bed, completely sated. Maitland followed her down, his heavy weight atop her cocooning her in warmth.

They lay together in a haze of contentment. On a groan, Maitland rolled off her, gathering her into his arms as he went. “That was indescribable.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. He stilled. “I didn't hurt you?”

“Did it sound like I was hurting?”

He laughed. “I'm not sure, you did a lot of moaning.”

“If it had hurt I would have told you. I found only pleasure.” They lay silently, Maitland caressing her arm. “That position was wonderful. I want to try more,” she whispered.

“How do you know there are more?” God, she was beautiful, completely unselfconscious in her enjoyment of passion.

She gave a cheeky smile. “I ‘borrowed' a book from the Top Hat. Do you want to see?”

Before he could reply, she leapt naked from his bed and raced to her bedchamber. She was a nymph, glorious and sensual and all his. Maitland praised God he'd been so lucky.

He watched her walk naked back toward him, leafing through a small leather-bound book. She had no idea the effect she was having on him. There was no artifice, no swinging of hips or come-to-me smiles; she didn't need any of that to have him hardening again. Her natural beauty and acceptance of who she was had his heart filling with warmth.

She was magnificent.

“I knew I was right. That position is in the book.”

She handed him the book, open to a page.

“So I see.” He turned to the inside page to read the title before flicking through some of the sonnets and images. “You do know that some of these images are men with men.”

She clambered onto the bed beside him. She looked at the page he was showing her. “Yes, but a different orifice, I assume.”

He merely laughed.

She gave him a puzzled look when further in the book the same position looked as if it was male and female. “Do men do this with women too?”

“I never have, but I have heard men find the anal passage very stimulating, and it is supposedly quite pleasant for women too.”

She contemplated the idea. She reached for his hand, linking her fingers with his. “I am happy to explore anything with you. I trust you to stop if I don't like it, or I will stop if you don't like it. Is that a pact?”

He nodded at the book she held in her hand. “I have as much to learn as you. I wasn't very adventurous with my previous liaisons. I was too scared to experience anything that might lead me toward my father's behavior.”

“I haven't had any previous liaisons, so I suppose we will have to experiment together,” she added huskily.

“I'd like that.”

On a beaming smile, she crawled into his lap where he sat propped against the headboard.

Happy in each other's company, they snuggled, chatting about what they wanted from their life together, how many children, where they would live most of the year, et cetera. The book lay forgotten beside them, but Maitland looked forward to indulging, practicing, and nurturing his desires with her for the rest of their lives. He couldn't think of anything more he wanted to do.

He felt confident in himself and relieved that just because he desired his wife and wanted to explore sexually, he would not turn into a raving pervert.

She must have seen a certain look in his eyes, for Marisa moved to straddle his lap, her arms snaking round his neck. “This is another position in the book,” she purred, as she rubbed herself up and down his more-than-ready erection.

“I think I'm going to like this position even more than the last.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Because I get to look at your beautiful face while I pleasure you.” He took one nipple between his thumb and finger and gently squeezed. She squirmed in delight.

“We should try this position before I get too big and round with child.” She looked at him with such longing. “You married me for an heir, did you not?”

Her words were tinged with accusation, and they hurt. He didn't know why they caused him unease, for he'd made it clear from the first day of marriage that he wanted to marry to obtain an heir. He quickly hugged her to him. “It might have started that way, but you must know now that you mean more to me than a way to ensure I have children. Of course I need children, but you will always come first.”

She let out a shaky laugh and patted her stomach. “I could be with child already.” She held up her hand. “I know it's too early to tell, but I hope I can give you your heart's desire.”

Two things struck him instantly. One,
she
was his heart's desire, and he really didn't care if she was or wasn't with child. He wanted more time with her, just the two of them together. Second, women died during childbirth, and suddenly he understood why Grayson and Sebastian were acting overprotectively. The idea of losing Marisa made his blood run cold.

“You don't look too happy for a man who might be getting what he so desperately wanted,” she joked.

He didn't say anything. Maitland merely pulled her to him and clung to her as if she were a life ring thrown to a man drowning in the sea. He'd only just found her. Found a woman he could be himself with.

He couldn't lose her now. God would not be so cruel.

She pulled back, looking at his face in concern. “I thought you'd be happy.”

“I am, it's just…it would be nice to have you all to myself for a while. To get to know you and learn all your secrets.”

“I don't have any secrets. What you see is all of me. I hope I'm enough.”

He stopped her words of concern with a light kiss. “More than enough.”

She smiled and pressed her lips to his in a slow, sensuous caress. Capturing his plump lower lip lightly, playfully, between her teeth, he groaned into her mouth and his erection surged against her.

“Are you sure you want more? Is it not too much in one night?”

He pressed a reassuring hand to her nape and leaned in close. “Make love to me, now.”

“I have studied the images thoroughly, so I don't think I need any help in working out the particulars of this position,” she said, and on a cheeky grin, she rose and slid slowly down his hardened length.

He let out a low, breathy woof of appreciation, surveying her luscious breasts as they jiggled. She licked her lips, one hand stroking his chest as she gave him a smoldering smile.

He grasped her hips to anchor her to him, but she used her thighs to rise up, and then, to his absolute delight, she slid slowly back down the length of him, causing him to momentarily close his eyes. They quickly flew open when she repeated the movement.

He eased himself back against the headboard, gave himself over to pleasure. For the first time he did not worry about controlling his urges or desires. He felt safe with Marisa.

His fears eased as Marisa cupped his face, skimming his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb, coaxing his lips wider and slipping her thumb inside for him to suckle. A shudder wracked his frame as he drew her thumb deep into his mouth while watching his erection disappear inside her as she began to ride him more vigorously.

Soon he could not help but move too. His grip on her hips tightened as he thrust upward, her thumb left his mouth, and he bent to replace it with one of her turgid nipples. He suckled her, alternating between breasts. He loved how when he tugged a nipple deep into his mouth she ground down on him with a low moan.

Soon their cries grew in volume. He left off her breasts and sought her mouth, plunging his tongue deep. Feelings crushed his chest, not just desire but something warm and welcoming. He drew back and held her gaze in aching sweetness. An epiphany.
He wasn't his father.
He wasn't his father because he couldn't imagine wanting to do this with any woman other than Marisa.

It wasn't the act or position that was ramping his desire. It was Marisa. His wife. His partner in life.

“This feels so good. Only with you,” he said longingly, gripping her hips as pleasure took hold of him.

“I love you,” she cried, breathing hard.

She kissed him again. He let out an anguished groan as he thrust more deeply into her hot, wet heat. It was too good, too much. His powerful rhythm quickened as he took control, letting their fever climb to the peak. With heart racing, he couldn't hold back. “Come for me, with me,” he commanded.

She dropped her head back, climaxing at his words, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her swollen breasts crushed against his sweat-dampened skin. Maitland bucked and strained as he came, spilling himself inside her with a mighty roar.

She collapsed onto his chest, shudders washing through her body as her orgasm faded. He pressed a kiss to her cheek where it lay on his pounding heart. He owed this woman his life. For he realized he'd been living only half of one for so long.

They must have fallen asleep because the room was dark, no candles lit, and he could hear a soft knocking on the door.

“Your Grace. You requested I help you dress at ten.”

Gilbert, his valet.

He felt Marisa stir beside him. “What is it?” She pushed up on one elbow.

“Damn. We are supposed to be at the club tonight.” He pressed close to her, his member stirring. “I'd rather stay here with you.”

“We have the rest of our lives. It's important we break Angelo and get the information he is withholding.”

With a sigh Maitland sat up and rubbed his hand over his face. “True.”

Grabbing his arm, Marisa said, “We go to the club together?”

Maitland shook her hand off. “After everything we discussed today, can't you see I can't have you on my conscience too. It's too dangerous.”

Marisa nodded. “I understand that, but we are simply going to play cards. I'll be by your side the entire night.”

The breath choked in his chest as he saw the determination in her eyes. He had to let her go with him.

“No going after the boy. Promise me, Marisa. I will have your word.”

Darn it.
If she gave her word she could not go back on it. “Fine. No going after the boy. But when we have what we need from Angelo you have to promise me we go back for the boy.”

Maitland pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. “I can agree to that, little one.”

She smiled up at him, and as Maitland called for Gilbert to wait a moment, she made her way across the room to call for Susan to help her dress in her costume.

The boredom she felt was unexpected. It had been exciting at first to watch Maitland play vingt-et-un. He started off keeping his winnings small, and then in the last half hour began to make bigger wagers. Watching how the game was played, she now understood how a man of Maitland's ability with numbers could win against the house by memorizing the cards that had already been played.

Now she was bored and simply wanted the night to end. Instead, Marisa used this time to watch for Simon. She hadn't seen either brother since arriving at the club two hours ago.

It would not be a good idea to ask after them either. She didn't wish anyone to know of her interest, just in case they were being watched.

Maitland turned his head and beckoned for her to lean forward. She was sitting behind him, watching the table over his shoulder. She leaned forward and flung her arms round his neck. He whispered into her ear, “We may be here a bit longer than I thought. The house has started cheating.”

Kissing his cheek, she returned his whisper. “Can you still win?”

“Of course, but it might take a bit longer, and it means Francis has been alerted to my winnings. Stay near me, as there could be trouble.”

The tension evident in his shoulders saw her massaging his neck without realizing she was doing it. Then movement in the adjoining room caught her eye. Her hands stopped the massage and began to squeeze hard instead. Maitland finally looked up. She nodded toward the door.

Arend was here. Maitland followed her stare and reached back to squeeze her hand, pulling her forward. She bent her head to hear him.

“If Arend's here, it means Angelo's back. Don't leave that seat.”

Arend didn't come into the gaming room. He was still in the drawing room, where she could hear another sex performance starting.

An idea struck. Perhaps Arend could be persuaded to find the boys. She sat back in her seat, chewing on her bottom lip, wondering how to get Arend's attention. She hoped he'd come to the gaming room.

Rather than following the cards, her eyes remained glued to the door. Her hopes rose when she saw Arend heading toward the gaming room, but before he could reach them, a man intercepted him.

The stranger was fair-haired and tall. Broad-shouldered. She couldn't make out his features, but the man seemed to know Arend.

Arend appeared to be having a heated conversation with the man. When Arend made to move round him, the man grabbed his arm, and she watched Arend angrily shake him off. To her horror, the man simply followed Arend into the gaming room.

When Arend reached her side he ignored her completely and bent to speak to Maitland.

At the start of this charade, they had discussed a plan, should Angelo return to the club before they had completed their task. Arend had been pretty sure Francis would send word to his boss about Maitland being at the club and winning. Hence, tonight would be the only night they had to break the house.

If Angelo returned, their plan was for Arend to make a scene, trying to get Maitland to leave the club. He would push Marisa away while they argued, to indicate that Arend was not happy that his friend was in a Molly club.

They hoped this would allay Angelo's fear about this being a planned strategy, and mean he'd let Maitland continue to play another night.

Arend's push when it came was harder than she'd been expecting, and before she could grab hold of Maitland, her chair tipped over backward, and in a tangle of arms and legs she crashed to the floor. Her head hit the wooden edge of the chair's back and pain slammed into her skull.

Maitland cursed and surged to his feet, pushing Arend out of his way.

The young lad from last night was bending to pick her up. “No one touches him except me.” Everyone stopped playing and silence hung in the air along with the cheroot smoke. “Arend, collect my winnings, if you please. We are leaving.”

A sound akin to a moan came from between her lips and her face was as pale as ice. Everything within him screamed to get her out of this club.

As he was lifting her into his arms a man said, “It would appear His Grace is leaving. Such a pity, when he was on such a long winning streak.” Amusement filled the words. “Perhaps it is just as well, or I may have had to ask a duke to leave my club.” The tone, in an instant, turned icy.

Maitland couldn't care less. He simply pushed past the man he assumed was Angelo and made for the exit. Arend stayed to scoop up his winnings.

“Is he all right?” the young man asked, as Maitland made his way to the entrance.

Maitland merely nodded. The young lad followed. When they reached the door, two of Angelo's men barred their exit. Marisa was stirring in his arms and he wanted to leave before she protested their sudden departure.

“Get out of the way,” Maitland growled at the towering masses before him.

Marisa wriggled and her eyes kept fluttering closed. “Get Clarence,” she whispered, and she tried to reach for the young lad behind him.

Angelo barked something at the lad before turning to confront Maitland.

Maitland kept his gaze focused on the club owner, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the lad push something into Marisa's hand.

“Don't ever return to my club, Your Grace. I'm only letting you leave now because I understand this idea was probably Arend's.” With Marisa in his arms, Maitland could do nothing as Angelo reached out and stroked Marisa's face. “So like her brother.”

Bloody hell. Angelo knew whom he held in his arms. Maitland cursed out loud.

Angelo moved in close to whisper quietly. “Did you think you could fool me? Your wife is the image of Lord Coldhurst, and I know he does not have any brothers.” He clicked his fingers at the two men guarding their exit. “You can leave. I don't want to see either of you here again.”

The thug opened the door and stepped aside just as Arend arrived.

“You should have waited, and paid me what I want, Arend. I have the information you are seeking.”

“I don't suppose you feel inclined to share,” Arend asked with a raised eyebrow. “Out of the goodness of your black heart.”

Angelo laughed and clapped Arend on the shoulder. “You know what I require, Grayson Devlin, Lord Blackwood, on his knees before me.”

Halfway through the door, Maitland stopped at Angelo's words. He looked over his shoulder directly at Arend, whose face was a mask of seething rage. Arend had known. Arend knew what Angelo wanted in exchange for the information.

“That's never going to happen. Why can't you want money like any other normal person?” Arend growled.

“Grayson slighted me and he will pay.”

“Christ. Slighted you? Angelo, hundreds of men have slighted you.” When Angelo said nothing, Arend looked at Maitland before turning back to Angelo. “Can't you let the past go? This is too important to play games. If you've learned something, you're now a target too. Help us and it helps you.”

“Bring Grayson to me and you'll have your name.”

The idea of Grayson on his knees to this pervert made Maitland's stomach curdle. Arend launched himself at Angelo, only to be tackled to the ground by one of the huge thugs guarding the door.

Arend yelled at him, “Go. Make sure Marisa's safe. Angelo won't hurt me.”

“Not much, anyway,” Angelo laughed. “I won't kill him, if that's what you're worried about. Arend and I have a history. I might simply remind him of that fact.”

Undecided, he hesitated before Arend again and yelled, “Go.”

His Tiger Matthew saw him emerge from the club with Marisa in his arms and soon they were ensconced inside—safe.

Marisa stirred and he focused on what was most important. Arend could take care of himself until help came. He vowed he'd collect Hadley and return as soon as his doctor had seen to Marisa.

“You are fussing. It's only a bump on the head. Turn the carriage round and go back for Arend.”

The desire to take her home and lock her away forever to keep her safe burned in his blood. She was important to him. She was—
his life.
He needed her in his life like he needed air to breathe.

She sat on his lap, cradled in his arms, and he hugged her.

“Hey. You are squeezing too tightly.” But she had a huge smile on her face. “Go back for Arend. I really am quite all right.” She placed her finger on his lips. “I'll wait in the carriage.”

He pushed her finger aside and pressed a kiss to her lips before banging on the carriage roof. “I'll collect Hadley first.” Once he'd given instructions to go to Hadley's townhouse, he ran his fingers over the back of Marisa's head. The skin had not broken, but she had a lump the size of an egg.

“Arend knows Angelo. Aren't you at all curious as to the connection?” Marisa asked.

“Arend has always been something of an enigma. He withdrew from our group for a few years. Said he was on the Continent. We thought that odd, given the war with Napoleon.”

Marisa remained silent. Arend held secrets. Anyone looking at him could tell that much. He was the dark, silent, brooding type. Perhaps that is why, along with his good looks, women found him irresistible—a challenge to conquer.

Once they'd collected Hadley, the two men discussed how to handle Angelo.

“Time for niceties is long past. The man is playing a dangerous game.” Hadley pulled off his gloves and shoved them into the pocket of his greatcoat. “We have to do whatever is necessary to make him reveal what he knows.”

Maitland nodded. “Perhaps Arend is doing that as we speak.”

The two men exchanged a look.

“Where do you think Angelo will have taken him?” Maitland asked.

“His tented drawing room. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes, on the second floor at the back of the house. Marisa and I were interviewed by Francis in that room.”

The carriage pulled up to the door of the Top Hat and the men disembarked. “Stay in the carriage,” Maitland said. “I hope we will not be long.”

No sooner had the carriage door banged shut behind them, than Marisa unfolded the note Clarence had handed her.

I have talked with my brother. We would both like to leave the club and come with you and His Grace. Help us.

Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. Clarence didn't know what he was really asking. He had no idea that she was a woman.

What if the boys didn't want a different life? Clarence might think they would be Maitland's boys for his bed. She was offering honest work, hoping they'd leave the whoring behind them. Could they leave it behind them?

She sat in the carriage, indecision turning her legs to stone.

She could get out of the carriage and go into the club. Angelo would be busy with the Libertine Scholars. She would never get a more perfect opportunity to rescue the boys.

Blast.
She'd promised Maitland she'd stay in the carriage. However, surely he would not mind if she were going inside to rescue the boys, knowing Maitland was engaging Angelo's time.

Before she could change her mind, she made her way into the club. There was only one guard on the front door and he recognized her, stepping aside to let her enter.

Marisa made herself stand tall as she sauntered into the drawing room, near the gaming room. She spotted Clarence over in the corner of the room, sitting on the lap of a gentleman.

When he saw her across the room, he whispered something in the man's ear and rose from his lap. He nodded toward the stairwell. She casually turned and moved to where he'd indicated.

Clarence met her at the bottom of the stairs.

“What are you doing here? I thought you'd left. You were hurt.”

“It was only a slight bump. His Grace returned to the club with a friend. They wish to talk with Angelo. I thought this would be the perfect time to collect you both. While Angelo is entertaining His Grace.”

Clarence didn't look that reassured. “Tonight is not good. They will miss us immediately if we leave. I'm fully booked tonight, and Simon—”

“I'm leaving with Simon, now, tonight. I won't leave him here a minute longer.”

Clarence looked over his shoulder. “Fine. Get Simon, he's up in his room, waiting for…” Clarence shrugged. “Just get him out. I'll follow when I see you have him in the carriage. It will be less suspicious that way.”

“What room is he in?”

“The last door at the far end of the third floor. Take him down the back stairs. Go out through the kitchen and down the side alley.”

He turned to go back to the man sending him “come here” looks from across the room. She grabbed his arm. “How will I find you?”

He gave a sad smile. “I will try and slip away in the early morning.”

She wanted to scream “No, come with us tonight,” but she knew it would be a waste of breath. “Do you know where His Grace lives?”

“No. But I shall find his townhouse. Just get Simon out of here, Your Grace.” At her intake of breath, he added, “I heard Angelo at the door. I'm grateful you came back. You want to help Simon. For that I thank you.”

She grabbed his arm. “I want to help both of you. Please, come with me.”

The arm she held trembled under her fingers. “Thank you. But I am past helping. This is the life I have known since I was five.” He put his hand over hers where it gripped his arm, and peeled off her fingers.

“Don't you dare say it's too late. It's
never
too late.”

She saw the man across the room begin to rise from his chair.

“Go.” He indicated upstairs. “I have a client and he will not let me go quietly.” With that, Clarence turned from her and intercepted the man before he could reach her.

Time was running out. She quickly made her way upstairs and entered Simon's room. He was standing, staring out of the window. He didn't even acknowledge her when she entered, he merely sighed and made his way to the bed. He began loosening his trousers.