“We’re good together, you and I,” he murmured just before his mouth came down on hers. “Remember?”
Remember? Oh, did she remember! Never, if she lived to be a hundred, could she forget the white-hot passion that both exhilarated and shamed, that swept her away with it, that changed her world. How could she not remember?
If he said something more, Isabella heard none of it as the roar in her ears from the heating of her own blood drowned out every other sound. Vaguely she realized that they were no longer waltzing, that they were standing in each other’s arms, while he pressed her head back against his shoulder with his kiss.
The walls of the room seemed to twirl and then recede as she kissed him back with a hunger so intense it seemed that she could never get enough of him. His lips were hard and hot as they moved over hers, his tongue boldly laying claim to the territory she willingly surrendered. He tasted faintly of the liqueur with which they’d finished dinner. With the part of her mind still capable of functioning, Isabella wondered if that was not part of the reason she felt herself growing ever more intoxicated as she explored his mouth.
But the truth was, she was growing drunk on the man himself.
When he lifted his mouth from hers, she mewled a protest and dug her nails into the back of his neck without ever opening her eyes.
“Careful, now, Madame Tutor. You’ll wound me anew,” he chided, and then Isabella felt herself being lifted off her feet.
“Alec …” Her eyes flew open, and she clung to him as he carried her toward the closed door of the salon. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed, love. I’m too old and too fond of comfort to make love to you on the rug.”
“But Shelby, the servants …”He had opened the door and was maneuvering her expertly through it as he spoke.
“To hell with Shelby and the servants. I’ll do as I like in my own home. Now, close your eyes, and put that pretty little mouth to its proper use and kiss me.”
“Yes, Alec.” She surrendered to a will that was, for the moment, stronger than hers, closed her eyes, and lifted her lips for his kiss. His mouth crushed down on hers, blocking out all awareness of anything but him. So oblivious was she that she had no notion that Shelby, shocked and muttering something about scandal and bad blood, saw her locked in Alec’s arms and retreated into the shadows. She had no notion that Alec was climbing the stairs quickly, as if she were no weight at all, his kisses robbing her of her breath all the while. She had no notion of the desperateness of her hold on him, or the quiescent way she lay in his arms, her head thrown back against his shoulder, her feet dangling. She had no notion when they reached his chamber, or of how they got through the door. All she knew was that his arms were lifting away from her as he set her on her feet by his bed.
She opened her eyes then, looking up at him with a passion so intense that it set the blue-gray depths ablaze, clinging to his shoulders with abandon as her lips once again sought his, brushing the stubbly roughness of his chin and cheek in her quest. Mindlessly her hands sought and found the proper neckcloth that he had worn at her insistence. Now the elegantly knotted folds offended her, and she tugged at them, trying to work them loose so that she might free more of his flesh.
“Gently, gently, love. We’ve got all night,” he whispered against her lips as he dropped soft kisses on her seeking mouth. Once the neckcloth was sent flying, to land forgotten on the floor, her attention turned to his coat and she pushed against it, trying to work it down his shoulders. With a quirk of his lips that was not quite a smile, he shrugged out of it. Then even the last semblance of a smile vanished as her fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt, sliding them free of their holes. The sudden blaze in his eyes was the only warning she had that his desire had reached flashpoint. He drew in his breath, sharply, then yanked at the sides of his shirt so that the remaining buttons popped and she had free access to his chest.
She caught her breath then, too, her eyes and hands moving to the expanse of bare flesh revealed by the forcibly opened shirt. Her fingertips were sensual as they stroked over the sleek contours of his chest, burrowed into the soft wedge of hair. His skin was hot and firm over muscles as unyielding as wood. At the feel of him under her hands, she grew intoxicated all over again. Driven by instinct, she bent her head to press tiny, biting kisses into the rigid muscles of his chest. At last she found the male nipples that were already taut with anticipation, first flicking them with her tongue and then biting them.
“Christ, love, this goes too fast,” he muttered, catching her head with both hands and pulling her away from him. His accent was roughening, and somehow that less than elegant intonation set the seal on her intoxication. She looked up at him then, with his hands still lying flat on either side of her face. His teeth were clenched in an effort to keep a rein on his burgeoning passion, but even he with his iron will was not proof against the sudden fierce hunger that shone from her eyes.
“Love me, Alec. Now. Please.”
“Oh, God, Isabella,” he groaned in surrender, and slid his hands away from her head to catch her arms and haul her up for his kiss.
But she didn’t wait for that. She launched herself upward before he could lift her, almost leaping at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, raising herself on tiptoe as she pressed her breasts against the hardness and heat of his bare chest. With torrid desire she kissed him, her passion made that much the sweeter for all the time she had fought to deny it. Her hands burrowed under his hair to spread out against his skull, holding him to her even though he made no move to lift his head. Her mouth twisted under his. Her tongue invaded his mouth with hungry ardency as the passion she had held in check for so long blazed up to consume them both with its flames. On the morrow, she knew, she was going to regret what she had done. But for now, in the steamy semidarkness of his bedchamber lit only by the dying embers of the fire in the hearth, she was burning with the intensity of her need for him. Lady or strumpet, in the dark it made no matter. She was all a woman, and he was all a man. And oh, how she wanted him!
His hands were shaking as they sought for and found the fastenings of her dress. But the tiny buttons resisted his importunities, and at last he grew impatient. Catching the neck of her gown at the back with both hands, he yanked it open. The material gave with a loud rip, and buttons scattered everywhere, clattering as they hit the floor and rolled.
“Alec. My dress.” Her eyes opened at the unexpectedness of his violence.
“I’ll buy you another one, love. Dozens, if you like.”
He was pulling the gown down her arms, pushing it past her waist so that it fell to her ankles. She obliged him by stepping out of it, and then undoing the tapes of her petticoat while he wrestled with the laces of her stays. When at last she stood before him clad only in the scant protection of her chemise, he looked down at her for a long moment with an expression that made her heart stop.
Then he reached for her again.
Isabella made a tiny mewling sound, and melted into his arms. Her arms went around his back, under the abused shirt, clutching him to her. He lifted her, and laid her on the bed, fumbling with his breeches as he came down on top of her.
“Forgive me, love. I can’t wait more,” he breathed into her ear. Her legs parted for him even as his still-breeched thighs slid between them, and then he was pushing against her for a scant moment until he found the place he sought and thrust inside.
Isabella stiffened as he filled her, fighting to hold back the hot, sweet clamoring that was refusing to be denied. He sensed her battle and went very still, then with a muffled curse began to move, pushing himself inside her again and again as she surrendered with a cry to the abyss that from the beginning had threatened to claim her.
“Christ Almighty.”
It might have been a curse or a prayer. Isabella didn’t know. She only knew that he plunged into her at that instant of her deepest joy with a wild hunger and a wilder cry, holding himself inside her as his lean, strong body convulsed with long shudders. Finally he collapsed on top of her. Spent, he lay still, and she wrapped her arms around him, snuggling her cheek against his still-thudding heart.
L
“W
e never do manage to do this properly, do we?” It was a little while later. Alec lay on his back on the bed, his head properly disposed on a pillow, and a wry smile on his face. He was very much in control again, of his voice and his emotions. Isabella lay close beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. His arm was around her, and she was, at the moment, feeling very much content with the world.
“Is there a proper way to do it?” she asked, interested. Her hand, resting against his chest inside the buttonless shirt he still wore, stroked his skin idly.
He slanted a look down at her. There was a wry twist to his mouth as he smiled. “We might try it with both of us naked. And slowly. Very, very slowly. So that I can savor every square inch of you.”
“You’re putting me to the blush.”
She suited the action to the words. He laughed as he saw the truth of her statement, hugged her closer and kissed the top of her head.
“I like a woman who can blush. It opens up all kinds of interesting possibilities.”
“Such as?”
Alec sat up. Dislodged from her resting place, Isabella made a sound of protest as she was left lying forlornly on the mattress. Surveying himself rather ruefully, he gave the hitch to his breeches that was needed to make him minimally decent. Then, feeling her watching him, he looked up to meet her eyes. Pouting at his absence, Isabella had shifted so that her head rested on the pillow his head vacated. His eyes swept her as she lay there, legs sprawled, sleepy-eyed in the aftermath of their loving. Suddenly self-conscious, Isabella tugged down the shift she still wore so that she was covered to midthigh. His eyes took on a gleam as they surveyed her. Seeing that gleam, and remembering what he’d said about being naked, she felt a languorous twinge deep inside as that part of her she had thought was sated awakened once more.
“Such as, would you blush if I kissed your toes?”
He ran his hand down the length of her bare leg as he spoke, half teasing but still sending tremors up her spine in the wake of that warm touch. To her surprise, he captured her ankle, shifted position a little, and lifted her foot to his mouth to nibble on her small bare toes.
“Alec! Stop!”
Isabella wiggled her toes in shocked protest, while he held her ankle and kissed them one by one, drawing the big toe into his mouth and sucking on it for good measure.
“She does blush. Interesting,” he observed with a devilish glint as he lifted her foot higher to press kisses on the sensitive instep.
“Stop kissing my foot! It tickles, and it’s … it’s embarrassing!”
“If you insist.”
Obligingly he desisted, but she relaxed too soon. Retaining his grip on her ankle, he slid his mouth up over her ankle to nibble his way up her calf to her knee, where his mouth rested for a long moment, hot and wet against her skin. Isabella, blushing furiously now at both his action and the immodesty of her posture with one leg lifted high, pulled down the hem of her chemise with one hand and sought to scoot into a sitting position with the aid of the other.
“Would you stop?”
She was laughing a little at the sheer foolishness of him, but she meant it too. What he was doing was … exciting. But far too wicked to be permitted.
“ Remember our bargain?”
“What bargain?”
“You were to turn me into a gentleman and I was to turn you into a beauty?”
“What does that have to do with anything? Alec, stop kissing my knee!”
“A beautiful woman is one who looks well and thoroughly loved. I’m just trying to keep my part of our agreement.” He accompanied that with a devilish smile.
“I knew you’d come out with something like that sooner or later. Well, if you think I … Alec, you can’t do that!”
His mouth left her knee to crawl up the inside of her thigh as she spoke. The scorching journey made her break out in goose bumps from head to toe. Again she tried to pull her ankle free of his hold. Again he refused to release her while his mouth inched closer to that part of her that he had already claimed very thoroughly as his own.
“It isn’t decent! You musn’t!”
He lifted his head at that to regard her intently. “For a married lady, Countess, you’re very innocent. Didn’t you and St. Just ever have fun in bed?”
“No!”
“He did bed you. You weren’t a virgin that night in the Carousel, I know full well.”
“No, of course I … Oh, do we have to talk about this?”
It was almost a wail. If her blush got any hotter, she’d go up in flames. It didn’t help that the whole time he was interrogating her, his hand, almost absently, stroked up and down the inside of her captured thigh.
“I think so. You were a virgin when you married, I’m certain. So all you know about sex is what you learned from St. Just—which doesn’t seem to be a hell of a lot—and me. Am I right?”
“Yes!”
Distractedly she tried again to pull her ankle from his hold. He retained his grip without effort, watching her embarrassed struggles to make herself decent.
“I gather that his idea of a good time in bed was ten minutes rutting in the dark?”
“Alec!”
Shocked at his crudeness, she stopped struggling and sat up straight, staring at him. The flickering firelight painted his chiselled features in shades of bronze, while his hair gleamed like old gold from the reflected light of the flames. With his shirt loose and open, and his breeches unbuttoned to expose his belly a considerable number of inches past his navel, he looked very handsome—and more than a little debauched.
“Well?”
He clearly meant to have an answer. Isabella, feeling herself turn seven shades of red, muttered resentfully, “Yes.”
“I thought so.”
He began to rub her thigh again, then pressed a kiss on the inside of it just above her knee. To her surprise, he released her ankle, and sat looking at her meditatively. Isabella drew her legs out of his reach, scrambling up into the bed until she was sitting with her back pressed against the headboard, watching him with as much wariness as a rabbit might watch a hound.