Barbara Pierce (22 page)

“Lord Ordish,” Kilby said abruptly, interrupting his story. “Forgive me, my lord. I promised a certain gentleman a dance, and he has just arrived.”

“Go.” The earl’s face crinkled in amusement as he urged her to hurry off with a wave of his hand. “Run off and flirt with your young gentleman. You have better things to do than listen to an old man’s ramblings.”

She curtsied. Unable to resist, she kissed Lord Ordish on the cheek. “You are not old, my lord, and I always like our chats. One of these days I shall introduce you to Lady Quennell. Though I must warn you, once Priddy learns that you are unmarried, she will never give you any peace.”

Kilby waved farewell to the earl. She could hear his throaty laughter follow her as she wended her way through the crowd to Fayne. He was also moving toward her. Fayne
occasionally stopped and spoke to friends and acquaintances. Although he had not looked in her direction, Kilby knew his thoughts were focused on her.

They met each other halfway.

“Your Grace,” she said breathlessly, slipping down into a graceful curtsy.

Fayne bowed formally over her extended hand. “Lady Kilby. How fortuitous. Would you do me the honor of being my partner for the next dance?” His green gaze glittered intently as he held her gaze.

Kilby fought not to smile. The question itself was not amusing. It was his unspoken question that made her heart sing.

“Will you let me love you tonight, my little wolf?”

“I gladly accept, Your Grace.”

“I did not think the evening would ever end, Your Grace,” Kilby said, raining kisses on his face while Fayne carried her into his rented town house. Although the Solitea town house was rightfully his, Fayne preferred residing separately from his mother.

“Fayne will do nicely, love,” he said, kicking the door shut with his foot. “ ‘Master’ has a nice ring to it, too.”

“Ha-ha!” She pinched his ear. “Never.”

His manservant appeared from the back of the house, carrying a small branch of candles. Hedge was a somber little man with alert hazel eyes and a rigid formal bearing and whose attention to detail had made him a valued servant. Somewhere in his early forties, the slightly balding Hedge had been under Fayne’s employ for six years.

“Your Grace, might I be of service to you and your lady this evening?” the servant politely inquired.

For some reason, Kilby found the servant’s offer ridiculously amusing. She pressed her face into Fayne’s throat to muffle her laughter. Judging from Hedge’s unruffled
demeanor, one might think Fayne arrived home each night with a young lady bundled in his arms.

Fayne playfully smacked her on the bottom. “Behave,” he sternly warned her. To his manservant he said, “No, thank you, Hedge. I’ll see to the lady’s needs myself. You may retire.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” He placed the branch of candles on a table for them. “I bid you both a good night.” The servant disappeared into the darkness.

“That was rather cheeky of you to tell your man that you would see to my needs,” Kilby said, extending her arm out and picking up the candelabra.

Fayne kissed her on the nose. “How so? I don’t plan to overlook a single one.”

“You have utterly corrupted me, Your Grace,” Kilby confessed to Fayne an hour later, not particularly troubled by her disgrace. She was feeling sleepy and sated from their earlier lovemaking. Lying naked in his arms, she rolled onto her side and braced her head with her bent arm. “No wonder gentlemen are always collecting mistresses. Though, it hardly seems fair. No doubt the matrons of the
ton
would not think kindly of me if I began amassing a string of lovers.”

Fayne teased her hip with his fingernails. “Never mind the matrons.” He dragged her on top of him. “What about me, your devoted lover? Have you tired of me so much that you are already planning your next conquest, you heartless vixen?” In teasing punishment, he dug his fingers into her sides and tickled her mercilessly.

“No,” Kilby said, squealing with laughter, wiggling crazily against his virile, naked physique. “Stop. Fine. I am keeping you. After all, you do have your uses.”

She surprised him by lightly cupping his testicles with
her hand. In response, he clenched his teeth and sucked in his breath. Until then, Fayne had always taken the lead in their passionate encounters. Willingly conceding to his devastating expertise as a lover, Kilby had never thought to challenge his authority. It had not occurred to her that Fayne’s dominant nature would ever tolerate, let alone desire, her sudden impulse to control him for a change.

“There is such strength here,” she observed, stroking his erect shaft from its base to the tip. His manhood twitched, lifting up to meet her caressing fingers. A droplet of his arousal welled at the slit opening. He felt like hot silk. “What does it feel like to push your rod inside of me?”

Fayne shuddered. “Paradise. I wish I could remain inside you forever.”

Secretly pleased by his admission, Kilby smiled against his stomach. It definitely explained why Fayne made love to her at each opportunity. The taut muscles against her cheek rippled, as curiosity prompted her to shift lower. “And what do you taste like, Your Grace?”

Not giving him a chance to reply, her tongue tentatively flicked out to connect with the tip, tasting him. “Mmm, salty. A bit like what sin tastes like, I imagine.”

“Kilby,” he choked out, his fingers tangling in her black hair as her lips drifted teasingly over the hooded ridge of his manhood. “Have mercy.”

She turned back to face him, her violet eyes dancing with impish delight. “Why should I? You taught me half the fun is partaking in the torment.”

Lady Kilby Fitchwolf had finally awakened. The violet-eyed enchantress had just discovered her powers, and Fayne was completely ensorcelled. He closed his eyes, savoring the magic of her mouth on his cock. The untutored caresses of her hands and mouth were tantalizingly erotic. No courtesan
or highly skilled mistress could have aroused him so thoroughly.

Fayne moaned. “Ride me,” he said, desperately needing to be inside her when he came. The rigid control he had always prided himself on seemed to swiftly evaporate whenever Kilby was near.

She sat up partway, her hand idly stroking his inner thigh. Although it had taken some persuasion to convince her to come home with him, he liked having her naked in his bed. She looked like a wanton pagan goddess with her white skin gleaming like captured moonlight. His kisses had reddened her lips, and her long black hair flowed down about her waist in alluring disarray.

She gave him an inquiring glance. “Do what?”

“Mount me, my little wolf.” He guided her until she straddled him. Fayne rubbed his straining cock against the curly thatch of her sex. “Would you not like to ride and tame your ravenous beast?”

Kilby was clearly fascinated by the suggestion. “Show me.”

Fayne cupped her buttocks and positioned her sultry heat over his arousal. She knew what he craved. As she moved against him, her wetness enticed him deeper. His splayed hands on her buttocks tightened as he thrust his cock into her welcoming sheath.

“Now ride,” he commanded hoarsely. Gripping her hips, he demonstrated the friction he craved.

Kilby eagerly embraced the new freedom of her position. She moved slowly at first, rolling her hips against his as she took his full measure. Gradually, exploration and her growing confidence had her quickening her pace. Fayne groaned. He reached up and his hands squeezed the pliant flesh of her breasts.

“Am I doing this correctly?” she asked dreamily.

By God, Kilby was devastating him! Each downward
stroke was exquisite. Her snug sheath was milking the head of his cock, demanding his surrender.

Fayne refused to disappoint his lady.

Pulling one of her breasts to his hungry mouth, Fayne suckled her nipple fiercely as his other hand teased her clitoris. The impetus sent her hurtling toward her release. Fayne’s guttural shout mingled with Kilby’s sweet, faint cry as they lost themselves in the staggering throes of their shared orgasm.

Kilby collapsed on top of him, burying her face against his shoulder. Her lithe body was shaking from their exertion and slick with sweat. Their bodies still joined, Fayne shivered as tiny quakes surged from his cock. He gently pushed himself deeper, savoring the sensation.

“Hmm,” she mumbled in his ear. “My mother used to tell me that riding daily was good for my health. You have broadened my perspective on the benefits of her wisdom.”

Fayne managed a weak chuckle. He smoothed her hair from her face and tenderly kissed her. “Give me a month or two to recover and we will do this again.”

Kilby carefully disengaged from him and rolled onto her side. “A pity. We only have an hour or so before I must return home. Perhaps we should ring for Hedge and have him concoct an elixir for your waning stamina.”

Fayne rolled on top of her and caged her face with his hands. “Waning stamina? What irreverence! Now, my dear lady, you force me to prove myself—”

“Again?” Kilby interjected, not believing he was capable of taking her again so quickly.

In reality, his violet-eyed wolf had wrung him dry. Still, there were other ways of pleasuring her. “Again,” he demanded, gliding his hand up her thigh. He pressed his thumb firmly against her clitoris and the jolt had her hips lifting up off the mattress. “An hour or two will be just enough time.”

“Did you fall asleep again?” Fayne murmured against her ear.

She had, but she was not about to confess that his love-making had worn her out. The man was by far too smug about his talents in bed. Without opening her eyes, she rolled into him and nuzzled his chest. “Mmm . . . merely drifting.” Kilby stifled a yawn. “I suppose I should get dressed.”

“You don’t have to on my account,” he said, smoothing the stray strands of long black hair that covered her face. “Hedge could serve us breakfast in bed.”

Kilby opened her eyes at his outlandish suggestion. “And become this evening’s gossip? When I find the strength to search under your bed for my chemise, I will certainly hunt for your sanity!”

“Kilby,” he cajoled, pressing her back onto the mattress when she tried to sit up. He used his body to hold her in place.

“Do not Kilby me, Your Grace,” she said crossly, refusing to allow him to distract her from leaving again. “I cannot remain. Being here at all is risky enough.”

Bracing his arms on both sides of her head, he peered down at her, his expression sober. “This is about my father, isn’t it?”

They had never spoken about the night she had been with his father. Fayne had never asked, and Kilby had been reluctant to talk about those final minutes with the old duke. For some reason she could not fathom, he was demanding they speak about a night that was unmistakably painful for him and his family.

“Fayne, what is the point in discussing—” she began.

“I disagree.” He relaxed his right arm and gracefully plopped down on his side. “You like being in my bed, Kilby. I’ll even be so daring as to say that you love it.”

“You are insufferable,” she said, grabbing a fistful of his long hair and tugging sharply.

He turned his face into her clenched fist and kissed her knuckles. “No, just tenacious. Now pay attention. Lady Quennell has announced to all and sundry that she hopes to see you married this season, and yet when you get a respectable proposal from an incredibly handsome gent, you refuse him.”

“Two,” she said forlornly, recalling her angry parting from Lord Darknell.

“Two?” he repeated, his forehead furrowing in puzzlment.

“I rejected two offers for my hand; yours and Darknell’s.” Watching his stunned expression turn to anger, Kilby immediately regretted her confession.

“So Darknell found the courage to tell you that he was in love with you,” Fayne mused, not looking pleased.

“You knew?” It was intolerable to learn that the viscount’s feelings were visible to everyone but her. She was still silently berating herself for having caused her friend so much pain.

“A man recognizes his rival,” Fayne said grimly. “The minute I saw you with Darknell, I knew he wanted you for himself.”

“Not anymore,” she said irritably, recalling the viscount’s hurt expression. “I told him that I could not return his feelings. So that should please you.”

The harsh muscled lines in his jaw relaxed at her admission. Slipping his hand beneath the sheet, he cupped her warm breast. “Oh, it does please me. You have no excuse now.”

“Excuse? Excuse for what?” The man was not making any sense to her.

Fayne leaned over and kissed her softly on her un-protesting lips. He looked like a man who had nothing to lose. “Marrying me.”