Not Wicked Enough (23 page)

She couldn’t imagine telling him no, even though she ought to.

There was no pretense between them in respect of physical desires, and that was at once frightening and exhilarating. She had been on her own, directing her own life for long enough to have gotten used to that. Tonight, he would be the perfect lover, if things went that far, this man who made her heart race for the first time since she’d lost Greer.

“Lily?” His thumbs brushed over her cheeks. His hands stayed in her hair, holding her in place, and all Lily could think was that this beautiful and fierce man wanted her. He wasn’t after her fortune, which other men certainly had been. He didn’t
want
her in any way but the carnal sense,
and that meant he wanted her. Only her. Only for what she was right now. He wanted nothing of her besides greedy pleasure. Best yet, he was indulging her love of words and play, a patient man. Thoughtful.

Lily leaned toward him. The sight of him, the scent of him, the warmth of his hands on her made her imagine the moment when he would push inside her body, and just that made her shiver with longing. He must know how much she wanted him.

“You are the most unusual creature I’ve ever met,” he said. “What the devil
are
you thinking?”

She could let this happen and if afterward the situation became uncomfortable or went badly, she could retreat to her solitude at Syton House, and she would be safe. No one would know she’d been wicked because Mountjoy would never tell a soul.

“I am thinking,” she said slowly, “how improper it would be for me to remove my clothes.”

“Very.” His mouth twitched.

“A gentleman would not ask it of me.”

He took her medallion between the fingers of one hand and rubbed the surface. “I am aware.”

She put a finger to his lips to still his smile then put that same finger across hers. She studied him. “If I agree, your grace, I have a requirement.”

“Oh?”

“Just one.”

“I’m a generous man.” His smile was an invitation to sin, but she could see caution flickering around the edges of his mouth. He was a duke, after all, and women must surely have schemed with demands of him before. “Within reason.”

She managed to hold off a smile. She wanted him to suffer. He deserved it before she ceded the very last bit of power she had over him. “That’s a pity because I think you’ll find my request unreasonable.”

“Then why make it?” That was frank curiosity on his part.

“Because it is the one requirement I have before I give up everything.” She took a step back, and he released her.

“Put me out of my misery, Lily, and tell me what you want from me so that we either proceed or go our separate ways.”

“It’s a simple thing.”

“You say.”

“It is. I promise.” He arched his eyebrows at her. “Allow me to take your wardrobe in hand.”

He gaped at her, and she reached with her free hand and tapped the underside of his chin. A laugh burst from him, and he let go of her hand to rake his fingers through his hair. “My wardrobe?”

“Give me an hour with your tailor, two if he is a stupid man, and I can manage your clothes no matter where I am. From Syton House if need be.” She drew off a glove, slowly. He watched. She dangled it from one hand. “I make your wardrobe a condition because I don’t know how much longer I can stand to see you dressed as if you don’t care a fig what you look like.”

“I don’t.”

She sighed. “Such a disappointment, your grace.” She looked at her glove. “Should I put this back on?”

“Witch,” he said. “Temptress.”

“Lord, I hope so.” She crossed her arms beneath her bosom and tapped her toe on the carpet. “One’s appearance matters. One ought to take pride in looking well. You are a duke. You ought to dress as if you believe it of yourself.” She fingered the bottom hem of his coat. “Look at this. It’s only a decent fit. And your shirts ought to be made of a finer material.” She took another step back and worked her fingers free of her other glove. “I’m not suggesting anything but that you ought to care how you look. It affects Ginny and your brother, you know.”

Mountjoy snorted. “They’re more affected by the fact that I can afford to pay their debts and expenses and put a better than decent roof over all our heads.”

“No one disputes that. Not for a moment. But, your grace, you are such a lovely man. I’m not suggesting you set fashion, though I think with my assistance you would. I am suggesting that you wear colors that flatter you and clothes that fit your magnificent body. Clothes that make others think, here is a man worth knowing.” She touched his cheek. “Because it’s true. Not to mention, you might have more success with Miss Jane Kirk if you dressed the part of a duke.”

For some time he regarded her with a solemn expression, and she really had no idea what he was thinking. She thought of all the colors she could put him in that would accentuate his green eyes and take advantage of the drama of all that thick, dark hair.

“If I accede to this requirement of yours, I want you to take off every stitch you have on right now.” Lily looked him up and down, and Mountjoy waited while she did that.

“Everything, you say?”

“Yes.” Mountjoy walked over to the side table and filled a glass with two fingers from one of the decanters there. “I have a decent Madeira. Port, as well, if you’d like something to drink.”

“No, thank you.” Stubborn, stubborn man.

He walked back to her but stopped halfway to tug on his coat and take a sip from his glass. “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“The pattern is unimaginative, it doesn’t suit a man of your size and form, and the cloth is inferior wool.” She waved a hand at him. “The color, my God, what am I to call that color? Mud? Ditchwater? You’re fortunate you’re handsome.”

“You are aggravating in the extreme.” He took a drink. “Has anyone told you that before?”

“Many times.”

He walked toward her until he stood an arm’s length away, this time with the cut-glass tumbler in one hand. His eyes scoured her. “My wardrobe?” he said in a low, silky voice. “Is that really all you ask?”

“You told me what you wanted,” she said. “I told you what would convince me to agree to such an outrageous and improper request as yours.”

“Every stitch, Lily?”

“I think you made yourself plain.”

His expression turned so subtly wicked she could have sworn the room got warmer just from the effect. “That’s not all I want.”

“It’s no concern of mine if you failed to clearly convey your request.”

“I want to touch you. And, forgive me if I use a country term,
cover you
.”

She adored his willingness to draw out their wordplay. “I believe
fornicate
is the more accurate term.”

“I suppose it is.” He took another drink, but not in time to hide the twitch of his mouth. “So?”

“You know my terms.” She shook her hair behind her shoulders.

His gaze lingered on her mouth before dropping to her bosom. “Done. I put myself into your hands.”

Her stomach dropped. Too late now to back out. She’d made her pact with the devil.

He set his drink on the table. “Lily,” he said very softly. So softly she could barely hear him.

“Yes?”

His gaze raked her up and down. “I’ve agreed to everything you asked of me.”

“So you have, your grace.”

She turned her back to him. She could not see out any of the narrow windows, just bits of faint reflections in the glass. Mountjoy came close enough to work the fastenings down the back of her bodice. His fingers brushed her skin from time to time. Or lingered there, on her back. She managed the tapes herself when the time came. Her petticoat rustled to the floor. She caught her gown when it was loose enough for her to step free of it, though she didn’t. She turned and found Mountjoy’s attention on her, gaze traveling over her.

One must do the outrageous with style. With élan. With complete conviction.

Lily dropped her gown. It caught on her hips, and she reached down to push the fabric free. She turned her back to him again. “Unlace my corset?”

“Of course.” His fingers nimbly worked the lace, and when it was loose enough, he drew it over her head. He stepped away. She wore just her chemise now, and her slippers and stockings. “Turn around, Lily.”

She did, and watched him watch her. He stood with his eyes half closed, one loosely fisted hand held to his lips. He lowered his hand enough for her to see his mouth.

She unfastened her garters, one then the other, and shed her stockings and now she stood before him in her chemise.

“Go on,” he said.

Lily threw herself over the brink. She drew off the chemise, and when the linen came over her head, the room fell utterly silent. She kept her eyes open because she was no coward. Not that it mattered. Mountjoy wasn’t looking at her face.

Lily stood in the froth of her gown and petticoats around her calves, holding her chemise in one hand. Cool air washed over her skin. She was aroused and abashed at the same time, and yet there was also a shiver of anticipation. She was exactly as she was meant to be.

The duke reached behind him for his tumbler and drank half the contents. Glass in hand, he walked toward her. “Stay just as you are,” he said. He paced a circle around her. Slowly. When she could see him again, he returned his drink to the table behind him. “Simply ravishing.”

“Thank you.” She knew, of course, that she was not unattractive and that her figure was one men admired, but she knew nothing of how her body compared with any other woman’s when a man experienced in sin was thinking of indulging in more.

He held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation she put her bare palm on his. With his assistance, she stepped
over her clothes and found that without her shoes she had to tilt her chin to look at him. He made no move to touch her beyond the contact of their hands; he just continued to inspect her. “So very lovely,” he whispered. “I could look at you all night.”

“Is that all?”

With his other hand, he cupped the back of her head, fingers spread out on her skull, tipping her head to his. “I told you what else I wanted.” She adored the gruffness of his voice. “Tell me what will convince you to agree to that. Diamonds for your fingers? Sapphires around the column of your throat? Ropes of pearls? I assure you, my taste in jewelry is exemplary.”

“I don’t need any of that.”

“What do you need?”

She met his gaze. “To know you want me.”

“Do you doubt it?” His voice roughened, and she found herself pulled against him, her bare skin against his torso. “Christ, how can you doubt it?”

“Easily enough, as here I stand without any finery to hide my flaws. You want sex, but do you want me?”

“What flaws? It’s you I want. Lily Wellstone. No one else will do for me and therefore, if there are flaws, I want those, too.” The fingers of one hand glided down her shoulders, along her spine, and to the small of her back and lower. “Your skin is unconscionably soft, and that, my dear Wellstone, is no flaw.”

“Thank you.”

“Are we too near the windows? I don’t want you to be cold.”

“I’m not.”

“Good. That’s very good.” Both his hands slicked up her body. He picked her up and carried her to the chaise longue, and the very first thing he did after he’d laid her down was say, “Shall we see how convincing I can be?”

H
E WAS MAD TO BE DOING THIS. UTTERLY MAD
. J
UST
now, he’d not trade madness for sanity, not for the world. She was nude, and he had never in his life wanted a woman as much as he wanted Lily right now.

So here he was, sitting beside her on the chaise, and she was in her bare skin. The little witch had seduced him with that pert smile of hers and her quick wit and by shocking him out of his usual dour habits and left him with nothing but need. She’d beguiled him and aroused him, and now at this moment, if she were to ask him for carte blanche in return for allowing him to touch her, he might actually agree, he was that far gone with lust.