Virginia Henley (48 page)

He lifted her from his lap, laid her flat on the bed, and threaded his fingers into her silken curls, spreading them about her shoulders in a glorious red-gold mass. He buried his face in her perfumed hair and inhaled her intoxicating fragrance. When he lifted his head to gaze down into her eyes, the desire he saw etched on her beautiful face stopped his breath in his throat.

Alex reached up with trembling fingertips to trace his dark beauty. She touched his ink-black eyelashes, then stroked along his saber-sharp cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. As her finger glided across his lips, they opened invitingly, and she slipped inside. He began to suck her finger, and a burning thread of desire ran up her arm, shot down through her breast and belly, and came to rest between her legs, where it sparked and crackled like flames of fire. “Nicholas . . . please!”

With both hands, he lifted her bottom from the bed and drew off her garments, leaving her clad in only black stockings and garters. Then he dipped his head and trailed kisses from her throat down across her heart, over her belly, and along her soft thighs on the intimate flesh where her stockings ended. He watched, mesmerized, as she arched from the bed and again cried out his name. His groin throbbed so painfully, he quickly removed the tight trousers that constricted his manhood, and his rampant cock sprang forth eagerly. He managed to remove one garter and stocking, but he knew he could wait no longer to have her beneath him. “Open your legs wide, darling,” he urged, “and wrap them high about my back.” He reached down and fit his rigid erection against her, so that it lay along her sensitive cleft. Slowly, he brought half of his weight down upon her and kissed her ear. Then he whispered smoldering love words that told her in explicit detail the things he was going to do to her. He told her how it would make her feel, how it would make him want more; he told her how long he was going to make love to her, how many times he would make love to her, and in how many different ways. His hands explored every soft curve until she writhed and moaned and finally screamed her need.

As Nicholas slid his cock back and forth across her wet lips, she gasped and cried out with hot pleasure. He reached down, took his shaft in his hand, inserted the tip, and rotated it in a circular motion around the tiny pink bud of her womanhood, and she arched in frenzied abandon. Her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow, until his possessive mouth captured hers. Then he thrust his tongue deep inside in a rhythm that imitated what his cock was about to do.

Nick pushed the smooth, marblelike head of his long shaft inside her until he felt her stretch, then he withdrew it. He did this over and over with an undulating rhythm, hoping to make her blood sing as his did. Her sheath felt like velvet, and she was so hot she scalded him each time he penetrated deeper. When she was half mad with passion, crying and biting his shoulders with sharp little teeth, he thrust through her hymen until he was seated to the hilt. Then he stopped and held himself still until she became used to the feeling of his engorged weapon sheathed deep within. “Can you bear it, love?” His deep voice was ragged with passion.

So this is what it feels like when a man penetrates a woman and makes her his own.
It was like nothing she had ever imagined. His body was so big, so hard and powerful, so totally dominant. In this moment she realized that she could resist or she could submit. The choice was hers, and it empowered her. “Love me, Nicholas!” Alexandra surrendered to him with abandon, giving him control over both their bodies. She clung to him sweetly as he moved in and out, ignoring the pain and focusing on the pleasure. Almost immediately her body matched his sensual rhythm, and he took her with him to the edge of the universe. She felt him pulse deep inside her, then wondered if it were her body that throbbed; with amazement she realized that their bodies pulsed and throbbed together in an age-old mating ritual shared by lovers.

Nicholas cried out as he felt his seed start, and Alexandra joined his cry as he erupted into her. She felt her muscles contract all the way down her long legs, then she melted like hot, flowing lava. Unbelievably, his shudder was ten times more violent than hers as he spilled fully. They clung together in the warm nest they had thrashed out in the big bed, savoring the precious moments that allowed them to lie naked together in their own private world, where no other could intrude.

She sat up slowly and looked down at him, marveling at the intimate, cataclysmic joining they had shared, knowing he had transformed her and she would never be the same again. She smiled a secret smile;
nothing
would ever be the same again! When she saw the red drops of blood scattered like rubies across the snowy sheet, she cried, “You are bleeding again!”

“I think that’s your blood, sweetheart.”

She blinked. “Ah . . . perhaps you are right . . . I forgot!”

With aching tenderness he gathered her close and held her against his heart, knowing this was
his
woman.

An hour later, safe in the curve of Nicholas’s body, Alex slept contentedly. Nick, however, lay wide awake, staring into the dark. He had no regrets about his actions of the last few days. He considered the robberies he had committed as righting injustices, and in any case, since his crime spree was at an end, he refused to waste time on introspection. His conscience regarding Alexandra, however, pricked him sorely. He had violated the code of honor between himself and his twin—something he had never done before in his life—and though he had no regrets about loving Alex, he suffered pangs of guilt.

Nicholas examined honestly his feelings for the woman who lay beside him. He loved her deeply and completely with all his heart and with all his soul, but as well as loving her, he wanted to protect her. Because she was precious to him, and because he put her above all others, he wanted what was best for her. He picked up a tress of her hair and rubbed it between his fingers. Without a doubt, Christopher could give her the things he, Nick, wanted for her. If she married him, it would deprive her of the title and deprive her of Hatton itself, and it was difficult to bear the thought of her sacrificing everything because of her love for him. Nick lifted the red-gold strand of hair to his lips. Though he thought of all the advantages Kit could give her, he knew that he could never let her go. He vowed to cherish her now, and forever.

 

At Hatton, Christopher slept until noon. When he finally set his feet to the floor and stood up, his hangover almost felled him to his knees.
Was it only yesterday I attended the Epsom races?
He glanced at his bedside table, saw the money he had won scattered across it, and realized that he’d enjoyed some successful wagers. His brow puckered as he tried to recall something unpleasant that hovered just beyond his grasp. Suddenly, he remembered his encounter with Jeremy Eaton, and he sat down on the bed heavily. As everything flooded back over him, he experienced once more the feeling of hopelessness mixed with desperation.

Dog-bitten as he was today, he knew it was too much to cope with, but he swore off the whiskey, realizing that if he was to rid himself of the bloodsucking blackmailer, he would need all his wits about him while he laid his plans. If his head stopped pounding later this afternoon, perhaps he should go shooting. Though he was an excellent shot, practice at hitting a target would not go amiss; a duel left little margin for error.

Kit could not remember if he had broached the subject of going to London in the coming week with Rupert. Since the company of his best friend was an essential ingredient in his plan, Kit decided he had better ride over to the Hardings once the fog that shrouded his brain had lifted. He yanked on the bell-pull and waited, head in hands, until Mr. Burke arrived.

“Mix me some of that putrid stuff you gave Father when he was hungover. Oh, and better lock up the whiskey, Mr. Burke; I’ve never felt worse in my life!”

When Alexandra opened her eyes and saw Nicholas looking down at her, she gifted him with a radiant smile. “This is the happiest morning of my life!” She offered her lips, and when he bent his dark head and brushed her mouth with his, she felt her toes curl. “How is your head this morning?” she asked with concern.

“No worse than a hangover, and fortunately the cure is close at hand,” he teased. He had been watching her sleep, a privilege he never imagined he’d be fortunate enough to experience. Alexandra’s beauty was ethereal. Her closed eyelids were so translucent, he could see their delicate blue veins. Her dark lashes tipped by red-gold formed shadowy crescents on her high cheekbones. Her nose was small and straight, above a full, generous mouth, whose corners tipped upward even in sleep, as if she were dreaming pleasurable secrets.

“I have
always
been the remedy for what ailed you, Nicholas, but you were too unaware to know it.”

He gazed down at her. “I’ve always known it, sweetheart. How do you suppose I got through the year I spent fighting the war? In the darkest hours, thoughts of you made it endurable. Until now you were my heart’s secret.”

His words thrilled her. She reached up to caress his heart and felt the strong, steady beat beneath her fingertips. “I am a secret no longer. What will we do?”

The corners of his mouth lifted. “Make love, of course, in all the wonderfully wicked ways I described last night.”

She lifted her arms about his neck and arched her body to fit his. “I like being a woman, especially
your
woman,” she whispered. “Put your brand on me again.”

“I intend to, my lovely, long-legged filly.”

It was noon before the lovers left the bed; later than Nick had ever arisen in his life. When he rang for hot bath water, Alex concealed herself behind the door and only emerged when the tub was filled. She quickly slipped into the water, then groaned as its delicious warmth relaxed every muscle in her body. “You devil, I had no idea that making love would be so strenuous. I always imagined a female simply lay still.”

Nick threw back his head and laughed. “I am enjoying disabusing you of your quaint notions, my darling.” He climbed into the water with her, fulfilling another fantasy he’d often enjoyed. “The pleasure of sharing my bed and my bath with you far exceeds the anticipation.”

“We don’t fit!” she cried with mock alarm.

“That’s what you said earlier, but I proved you wrong,” he teased, slipping down into the water and lifting her into his lap.

“I was wrong on both counts; we fit together like Welsh love spoons,” she murmured happily, wriggling her bottom against the swell of his male arousal.

It was only when it was time to get dressed that she realized she had no fresh garments to don. “I shall have to go to Berkeley Square for some clothes. Where on earth is my other stocking?”

“Look in the bed; you were definitely wearing it the first time I made love to you.”

Alex threw back the covers, but in discovering her stocking, she also saw the evidence of their lovemaking on the pristine sheets and realized for the first time that one of his servants would soon be privy to what had gone on in his bed. She looked at him in dismay. “I cannot come back here; I won’t be able to look Fenton in the face. Can we move to Berkeley Square?”

Nick gathered her into his arms and, lifting her chin with his finger, forced her to look into his eyes. “Your town house also has servants, Alex. The only difference will be that I’ll be sharing your bed, instead of you sharing mine.”

“Hopkins never judges the things I do. . . . Well, until now he hasn’t.” She bit her fingernail. “It’s Sunday. Dottie will be expecting me home. I’ll get Hopkins to post her a letter, telling her and that I’ve been delayed and not to worry.”

Nicholas sensed that Alex wanted to return to Berkeley Square alone. “I’ll pack some of my clothes and join you in an hour at Berkeley Square. I’ll bring Satin so we can ride in the park this afternoon.” He grinned wickedly. “I don’t want to shock Hopkins by taking you straight to bed.”

Alexandra blushed, then laughed, though she realized that before long they would be shocking more than Hopkins. She tried not to think of Christopher Hatton and his reaction when he learned what his betrothed had done. Even more daunting was the thought of Dottie. She would run mad when she found out that her granddaughter had committed the ultimate sin and run off with an “untitled lout,” as Dottie would graphically call Nicholas Hatton!

 

When Alexandra arrived in Berkeley Square, Hopkins did not bat an eye that she had stayed out all night. She quickly changed into a riding dress and penned a letter to Dottie. After Hopkins served her a light lunch, she handed him the letter and asked him to see that it was posted immediately. “I don’t want Dottie to worry about me. I told her that the gown I bought from Madame Martine needed alterations.” The lie she told Hopkins warmed her cheeks, but he took the letter without even a look of censure.

The moment she finished eating, she glued herself to an upstairs window to watch for Nicholas. Already she missed him and longed for him inordinately. Just the thought of him made her pulse race, her heartbeat hammer, and her senses run riot. She was gloriously, head-over-heels in love, and it made her delirious with joy. Alex suddenly laughed.
Now I understand how Caro Ponsonby became so mad about Byron that she gave him a lock of her pubic hair!