Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord (39 page)

What was she doing? Aye, she was no longer a maid, but no one knew this. And it had only been Simon, her betrothed, the man she would have married.

Until Waterloo left him torn in shreds.

He hadn’t been expected to survive the night, let alone his transport home. But somehow he did, if only to writhe in agony for weeks at her side, muttering the most hurtful things, untruths meant to drive her from his side. To spare her from seeing him finally succumb. One year ago … tonight.

He moved from the light, and she felt him part her knees. The cushion beneath her gave, and she felt him move between her legs.

She couldn’t see him now, and she knew he couldn’t see her face as he leaned over her and began kissing her again. She closed her eyes and remembered Simon. How she missed him. How she missed the feel of him. Tears welled in her eyes. She felt part of herself die alongside him that night, one year ago.

But in this man’s arms, something miraculous was happening. She could scarce believe it, but there was no denying … she was beginning to feel again. As if … as if his tenderness, his kisses pressing down on her lips, her neck … my God, it was as though he was raising her from the dead.

And she did not want him to stop.

Aye, it was wicked, but her body and her mind needed this confirmation of life.

Her eyes snapped open. She could let herself have this. Reclaim her life.

Just one night.

No one would know. Even he thought her to be someone else.

Just one night of sin. That was all.

And in that moment, her decision was made. She raised a hand and ran it through his thick hair, holding him to her as she responded to his passionate kiss while she stroked his muscled chest.

“Mmm,” he moaned, stealing one last kiss. He leaned back slightly and ran his fingertips over her breasts, making her arch into his touch. He moved lower and eased his hands over her belly, then beneath the rumpled skirts about her hips. He pushed up her silk chemise and petticoat. His mouth was searing as he kissed the insides of her thighs as he eased her legs wider, opening her sex to him.

Siusan closed her eyes.
Oh, God, this is madness.
But she wasn’t going to stop him now. His touches and kisses had wound her body so achingly tight. He made her feel so alive again, the way she had when she was with Simon.

Aye, Simon.
She would think of Simon.

His mouth centered on the heat between her thighs. He sucked on her core, flicking her, swirling his tongue with all-knowing surety.

Simon. Simon.
She struggled to hold an image of him in her mind. Only, Simon had never done
this
—so wicked a thing. Oh, God.
Oh, God.

A warm shiver shook her. Simon never made her feel this way. Ever.

She trembled as his fingers spread her folds, then eased inside, slipping into her, curling up slightly as he circled her womanhood with his masterful tongue. She moaned and twisted as heat spiraled tighter and tighter inside her.

Her legs began to quiver uncontrollably. An urgency grew within her, one that she knew only a man could quell.

With both hands, she grasped his head and turned it up toward hers. When she felt him face her, she leaned down and caught his arms, dragging him back up to her.

In the darkness, she heard him laugh softly, and he moved and rose to kneel between her legs. She extended her arm until her hand felt his breeches stretched tight over his erection. With both hands she searched and finally found the buttons to his front fall. Against the strain of fabric, she fumbled to release the buttons.

His hands came down over hers, then moved them aside to release each button himself. At once the front fall opened, and she felt the heavy weight of his cock bounce down against her before rising again.

She grasped its long thickness and skimmed her fingertips up its shaft to its plump head the way Simon had once tutored her, hardening him to stone. In the wedge of moonlight, she saw a droplet pearl at his tip. She spread it over its crown, making it slick … for her.

The sound of the crowd in the ballroom swelled, and she felt his body twist. He was looking toward the door.

Nay, we’ve not gone this far only to stop now.
Siusan pumped her hand once more, then boldly set his plum-shaped tip against the entrance to her wetness.

He groaned aloud and arched his body over hers, poised to take her.

Her anticipation was so great, she could scarcely catch her breath, but when the musk scent of him filled her senses, her yearning grew ever more intense.

She thrilled at the sensation of his hot, muscled body between her thighs. She needed to feel him inside her. Needed to feed a hunger like no other she’d felt.

He eased his hardness into her moist folds, brushing past that place he’d made so sensitive with his skilled tongue. She shivered and brought her legs up and nearly around him.

In a low voice, he swore beneath his breath, then all at once, he grasped her wrists and held them on either side of her head as he thrust into her sheath. She gasped as her body stretched to him. Unbidden, her muscles gripped him, and she arched up, driving him deeper inside.

He slammed harder into her, filling her, almost to the point that she could not bear it. His fully aroused penis stroking her so forcefully created a mutiny of sensation, pushing her to the edge of sanity.

A whimper of carnal pleasure slipped from her mouth, drawing his attention. He kissed her again, hard at first, then slower and more gently, all the while pressing into her again and again, making her even wetter.

She gasped against his mouth, then again and again. He thrust into her harder and faster, until her muscles spasmed with an intensity she’d never known, overwhelming every inch of her with pulsing ecstasy.

With his last stroke, he swore again and tried to pull back, but her legs held him in place. Too long. His body suddenly arched and jerked into hers until his weight collapsed atop her. A sheen of perspiration broke over his back.

Panting, he rested upon her. “I’m sorry. I tried—Christ, I’ve always been able to stop.
Always.”
He pushed up finally and came to his feet, busying himself with dressing.

Siusan slid to the corner of the sofa, her fingers scrabbling for the ribbon to her stocking. In the black of the room, she couldn’t find it anywhere. So, instead, she rolled the top of her stocking to hold it in place, then, with a yank, she returned her skirts to her ankles. She sat still, keeping to the darkness, until she could make her escape.

He bent to retrieve what Siusan guessed to be his waistcoat. This was her moment. As quietly as possible, she rose from the sofa, slipped around behind it, and started for the door.

“Wait.” His hand curled around her wrist. “I would be remiss if I allowed you to forget this.” There was a clink of coins as he pressed a small leather bag into her palm.

She couldn’t help herself. Siusan turned, her face catching the moonlight momentarily as she looked down at the bag, torn between her family’s dire need of the money and feeling like she would have sold herself if she took it.

He released her wrist, and his hand dropped to his side. “You are not … oh God, you are not Clarissa.”

“Nay, I am not.”
Blast, I should not have said anything!
Abruptly, she dropped the bag on the floor, and when he instinctively bent to retrieve it, she opened the door and ran down the passage, chancing a hunted glance over her shoulder.

“Oof!” She’d slammed into a stocky, auburn-haired man rounding the corner into the passage just as she turned. She glanced back again as she twisted, and as she slid around him, she saw the man look down the passage toward the library.

Her secret lover stepped from the library at that very moment. Siusan lunged for the crowd. Suddenly the masses surged forward, and she was swallowed up into the swell.

She heard the bang of the liveried footman’s staff on the floor behind her. “All hail, His Grace, the Duke of Exeter!”

Startled, Priscilla turned to her. “There you are, Su! We’ve been looking everywhere for you. But here you are and just in time too. The Duke of Exeter has just been announced!”

“I am aware, but we have to find our brothers and leave at once.” She tugged on Priscilla’s arm.

“I daresay, I am not going anywhere.” She furrowed her brow, annoyed.

Siusan grabbed her sister’s shoulders. “Listen to me. We
must
leave.”

A young woman bumped into Priscilla while blindly racing forward to join the crowd. This only raised her sister’s ire. “I haven’t yet met the duke.”

“But Priscilla,
I have,
and if we do not quit this gala, the duke may recognize me and—oh God—Da will never forgive me for what I have done. Do you understand? He will toss me to the street before the week is out.”

Priscilla’s eyes rounded. “Gads, Su, what have you done now? ”

Heat washed into her cheeks. “I-I will admit all to you later. I swear. Presently, though, I need for you to locate our brothers. We must away. I will meet you in the carriage.” She pinned Priscilla with her gaze, hoping to impart the urgency of her words.

Priscilla nodded, then plunged into the crowd.

Siusan hurriedly descended the staircase. Budding tears stung her eyes as the liveried footman opened the doors, releasing her into the night. She could scarcely catch her breath.

She was such a fool. A damnable weak fool.

One night of sin … might well have cost her future.

AVON BOOKS
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Copyright © 2010 by Sarah Trabucchi
Excerpt from
The Duke’s Night of Sin
copyright © 2010 by Kathryn Caskie
ISBN 978-0-06-185206-0
www.avonromance.com

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