Chapter Eight
Merciful heavens, I can’t breathe.
As the duke kissed her like he was intent on stealing her every exhalation, Madeline clung to him, clutched at his shoulders, layered herself into him as if she could somehow become closer to his naked chest, feel him more intimately against her skin… or she would have if she’d had time to remove her shift?
The experience was more than the thrill found in a kiss, though. She was drowning in him, in all of him, all that he was, and everything he wanted from her. It didn’t matter that he had only sought her out in this capacity for revenge or the fact that there was no future between them; perhaps there didn’t need to be. Neither did it matter that he was dark and dangerous and frightening.
In this moment, he was enough. This was enough, and being here, returning his kisses, letting him fondle and caress and tease her body to the point of madness was beyond her wildest imaginings. If she could have told her eight-year-old self that someday she would be kissed by the Duke of Ravenhurst, do very wicked things with him, that little girl would have scoffed and called her insane.
Perhaps that was exactly what she was as she frantically drank from his lips while he kept her trapped between the hard wall of his chest and the crumbling facade of the folly.
In that realization, there was nothing to fear from slowly losing her mind in the face of this passion, this desire, this overwhelming sensation that she was right where she needed to be.
As she let her fingertips dance over the wide expanse of his chest, furrow them through the dark hair decorating his pectoral area, as she breathed in the scent of him, a potent mix of the smell of a man and the scent of the earth, she shivered as residual throbs of need rocked her core. Goodness, but Alexander made her body burn like no one else had been able to do; if he wanted, he could command anything from her with the veriest touch or the rare grin. She couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to because it was one of those inexplicable things in life one finds themselves tossed into. The one thing she did know for certain was that she wanted him, needed him to soothe her fears and calm her soul before she had to take up her destiny and marry the Marquess of Inglehart.
And try to escape with her life before the marquess killed her.
As these thoughts intruded, a sound left her throat that was part moan and part stifled sob. Why had she agreed with her brother’s nodcock plan of the union between her and the marquess? Chances were high the blackhearted man would still find a way to bury Richard with the shaming gossip, and her sacrifice would have been in vain. Now she was trapped, the vowels already paid, money exchanged, and it was her responsibility to keep the promises.
“I can practically hear you thinking,” Ravenhurst whispered against her lips while he manipulated her sensitive nipples with his thumbs. “Don’t. Not now. Don’t mar this, what we’re about to do, by thinking of him .” Emotions she couldn’t identify graveled his voice, but there was no doubt about the note of authority in the tone.
“You’re right.” She pressed a line of nipping kisses beneath his jaw. “I’m trying.”
“Concentrate on me and only me. I may be many horrible things, but I won’t let you fall.”
Madeline searched his eyes, even though it was too dark to see much. “Somehow, I believe you.” Never had she wished to show such vulnerability before anyone let alone to a man, but he was different and, in his company, she was oddly safe regardless that he was using her for his own twisted game of revenge.
“Don’t let him win, don’t let him infiltrate your thoughts or your mind.” He slipped a hand to the small of her back, slid it down to squeeze a buttock. Awareness surged through her blood. “Remember that you have independence waiting in the form of that ruby if you choose to use it.”
“I do, and I’m grateful for that.” But she was also grateful he’d come along when he had. Not that it was for anything beyond the scandalous. She slipped her arms around his shoulders, reveled in the solid feel of him, furrowed her fingers into his longish hair. It was soft to the touch, and quite thick. “As for being a pawn, I don’t mind it so much as long as you are my captor.”
“Cheeky.”
“Perhaps. I…” What? Far too many confusing emotions set her at sixes and sevens, and she truly didn’t know what she felt let alone how. But she was nearly lost and only kept fear at bay by the steady lifeline of his touch.
“Stop, else you’ll murder my erection.” Alexander cupped her cheeks, held her head between his palms and then claimed her lips in a kiss so tender it brought tears to her eyes and put hope in her heart for things she’d never dared to dream, but were naught but an impossible thing.
After this week, they would go their separate ways, and that would be that.
Madeline lifted onto her toes to better return his embrace. Right now, she needed to feel protected and cherished, yearned to feel wanted as she had been when her fiancé was alive, to forget about… everything.
To have something to remember him by when she fulfilled her promise to her brother.
With a growl, Ravenhurst once more crushed her into his arms, moved over her mouth as if he wished to memorize every contour and detail of her lips. When he eased the tip of his tongue along their seam, she opened for him, invited him in, and moaned when the kiss deepened, for he was quite skilled in everything carnal. One of his hands traced her spine, and as he squeezed her arse, brought her closer to his body, the bulge of his arousal twitched insistently at her navel. Clearly, he’d managed to retain his desire, and she couldn’t wait until he was inside her.
Would the act feel different this time?
Then she closed her mind to all the thoughts and just… surrendered, let herself fall and knew he would catch her no matter what was waiting for her on the path.
“Damn, Madeline, you make me feel drunker than downing a bottle of brandy.” He dragged his lips beneath her jaw, along the column of her throat, and as he kissed and licked a path around her bodice of her shift, she arched her back, giving him a clear invitation.
“Unfortunate for you, since you’re guiding the revenge plan.” She couldn’t remember how to form more complicated words, for every touch, each kiss, sent clouds into her brain and reduced her knees to the strength of cooked porridge.
“Do shut up.” Alexander slid his hands up her back. He quickly yanked the lawn shift up and off her body, let it drop to the grass. “I rather enjoy seeing you naked.”
“You do?” she asked, and her voice was decidedly breathless.
“These damned curves. Any man who tells you that you are too fat, too fleshy, unattractive…” He palmed her breasts, kneaded them until she shivered, and then with a maddening chuckle, he worried the nipples into tightened peaks. “If I had the right, I’d kill them all.”
“That hasn’t stopped you from killing men before, I’ll wager.”
“No, it hasn’t.” He dipped his head, took a nipple between his lips, went so far as to lightly bite that bud.
“Dear God.” Wild sensation streaked through her body to pool in her core. His words, the brush of his fingers, the gleam in his eyes all worked at her undoing. She lifted a hand, and with her fingers at his nape guided his mouth to one of the aching buds. “How do you make me forget everything except you the second you touch me?”
“Because that is the point of this whole week. I want to be the only man who occupies your mind, so when Inglehart beds you…” His voice slightly faltered. “When he beds you, you will know he can never fulfill you like I did.” He shifted attention to the neglected nipple, and a shuddering moan escaped her.
That rankled, but she pushed the reservations from her mind. A tremble of need moved up her spine when he licked his way back up her torso. Oh, good Lord, if he doesn’t stop that I’m going to go out of my mind!
Alexander slid his fingers into her upswept hair, pulled on the tresses with enough pressure that quick tears sprang into her eyes. When their gazes connected as her head went back, his dark eyes bored into hers. “Say the word and I’ll put a ball between his eyes. I’ll have my revenge, and you will be free.”
“Oh…” Unexpectedly, she lost a piece of her heart to him. Like a ninny. “I don’t want you to kill because of me. You aren’t that man any longer.”
“Actually, I am.”
“Hadn’t you already gotten your revenge when you took my innocence? Even now, I’m not certain he’ll wed me.” A ball of emotion clogged her throat. Because of that, she would have been ruined, destroyed by her brother’s choices, without even a husband at the week’s end. But she still had the ruby.
“Yes, but now I’m quite certain I’m going to kill him.” Then he crushed his lips to hers, and so much feeling lay behind the kiss that need and something she couldn’t identify shivered down her spine. And he didn’t stop kissing her until her knees wobbled and she clung to his shoulders.
“Don’t…” She curled a hand about his nape. How could he not see there was another choice?
“I refuse to let Inglehart win let alone touch you.” While he manipulated the buttons of his frontfalls, his knuckles brushed the curls shrouding her sex, and she gasped with need to have his hands on her again. When his hardened length tumbled out and twitched against her hip, she stifled a sigh.
“Why? You’ve made it clearly known you care not for anyone else.” Except that was a lie, but why did he wish to hide from himself?
“I’m done with this conversation.” Alexander put a hand beneath one of her thighs and encouraged her leg upward. She hooked it about his hip, anchoring her heel into his backside. “And remember what I told you two nights ago—you are mine for the week.”
Of course she remembered. Another shiver went down her spine, for her body was completely open to him, and the tip of his member glanced along her sensitive flesh. Being trapped between the wall and his chest was exhilarating and a touch frightening because she couldn’t be sure what he would end up doing in three days’ time.
“But I—”
“Woman, you are trying my patience.” He kissed her, claimed her mouth with a feverish hunger that matched her own need. The taste of brandy came away on her palate, and he kept one hand in her hair in an effort to keep her close while the other remained at her hip, his fingers digging into her skin.
He was exactly like a summer storm, all full of swirling power and growling thunder that would clear the air and provide a fresh start to the land, only she felt he was doing the same to her in ways she couldn’t understand. So Madeline reveled in the touch of his lips on hers, the pain-tipped pleasure of his hands on her, the near desperation in his kiss. When he flexed his hips and buried himself as deep as he could go, she moaned in pure appreciation.
“I rather hate myself for enjoying this so much,” she whispered against his mouth.
“I could say the same thing, but after all, I’m not a gentleman, and I will bed you for as long as I can because I want the fuck.” Then he captured her lips once more as he moved his hand from her hair to the stone wall near her head.
Despite her sudden need to cry from the mixed messages he was giving, she held onto his shoulders and surrendered completely to him; there was no more need for words. They communed by touch and the brush of lips, in caresses and touches, in the drag of fingernails across skin and the rasp of his whiskers on her cheeks and throat. Dear heavens, this coupling was so much different than what he’d done to her yesterday. No less intense, but in a wilder, more frantic way, as if his emotions had shifted and he spun out of control like the storm she’d likened him to.
Regardless, he drove her wild, flirting with madness.
Sighs and sounds of enjoyment or pleasure blended with the nocturnal night around them. Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she yielded to the sensation created by each hard stroke he made. Over and over, he speared into her, and the roughness of the cool stone at her back added another level of friction to the act. She pulled him closer with the pressure of her heel to the small of his back, looped her arms more tightly about his shoulders.
“I need more.”
“Perhaps you are just as broken as I am if you are willingly participating in this scandal.”
“Do shut up, Ravenhurst. Besides, you promised you would make me forget Inglehart tonight.” When he growled a curse, her eyes shuddered closed, for she floated on a cloud of need, for his rhythm changed as he snaked his hand to her waist, his fingers gripping her skin, and his thrusting went deeper and harder than she’d thought possible.
“You are mine , Madeline.” The possessive growl in his voice sent both thrills and tingles of alarm down her spine. “I still have three days with you, damn it, and I don’t want to hear his name again. Do you understand?” And his hips never ceased their movement.
Again and again and again he speared into her body, laying claim to her whole being, his hot, hard thickness filling her, stretching her and leaving her breathless. Terrible pressure built and stacked low in her belly. With every thrust, her eyes threatened to cross even though she held them tightly closed to better enjoy the act. She’d break and soon, but she alternately didn’t want this to end.
“Oh, oh… I’m close to shattering.”
“Tell me what you want; beg for it.” His thrusts grew more frantic.
With a gasp, she opened her eyes and peered at him. How did he manage to shift back and forth between a gentleman and this intense duke? “Finish me.”
“Bah.” He shook his head. “Look at me, Madeline. I want to see you.”
She met his gaze. “Do you want me to fear you? You are better than that, Alexander.”
“I’m really not.” He peered into her eyes, searching for God only knew what, but in that one look, his soul was suddenly on display and vulnerable. That honesty was endearing and unexpected. “At least if you are afraid of me, I won’t need to worry about misplaced feelings when the week is out.”
On his part or hers? “Even you wouldn’t want a woman who feared you, and frankly, being here with you has emboldened me. I am not afraid of you, Your Grace.”
Though he growled, she could have sworn he said, “That’s my girl,” beneath his breath before he renewed his grip on her. Alexander continued to work her body as if the world were suddenly ending. Harder and harder he pushed so that they slammed against the wall of the folly. Deeper and deeper, he stroked, and shivers of delight danced through her. Faster and faster his hips moved, and she clung to his shoulders, meeting him thrust for thrust even as tears spilled to her cheeks for the sensations swamping her were so big and all-encompassing.
It might make her silly and weak, but bonding with this man—even as forced as it sometimes was—had been the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced.
“Ah!” Madeline broke from reality with a startled cry that turned into a keening wail as she fell over the edge into bliss. Easily she could imagine the heavens opening and swallowing her whole, surrounding her with an intense white light that poured every pleasure she could ever imagine into her being. “Alex-and-er!” She wrapped her hands around his upper arms as she found release. So great were the contractions that she shook from them, said his name like a litany, until he kissed her, and the sound ceased but it continued to echo through her brain.
He thrust once more time, a forceful, powerful stroke that speared her to the wall before he claimed his own moment of satisfaction. The pleasure and wonder that skipped over his face as his member pulsed transfixed her. In that one moment, all the lines of anxiety and anger left his face, and for a few fleeting seconds, she caught a glimpse of the young man he’d used to be so long ago.
It was breathtaking and glorious, and what was more, she knew he could be that man again if he only just believed in himself.
“Will you have the strength to walk back to the manor?” he asked in a whisper against her mouth. A smug laugh rumbled beneath the words.
“Not at the moment.” Unable and unwilling to let him go just yet, she kissed him back, eased her lips down the strong column of his throat to tease a spot beneath his jaw as she set her foot upon the ground. Her knees were decidedly wobbly, however, so she hesitated to relinquish her hold on him, but she did, only long enough to retrieve her shift and don it.
“Perhaps we should both rest.” As if he were escorting her through a ballroom, he guided her back to the stream where she’d been bathing. “We can lie here and listen to the stream and the sounds of the night until you’re ready to go back.”
As she sat on the soft grass, he tucked his semi-flaccid length back into his breeches and then did up the buttons of his front falls. But what happens when I need to return to my brother and Lord Inglehart? Would he want to remain with her at that time? Shoving the thought from her mind, she brushed at the moisture on her cheeks, and when he joined her on the ground, he collapsed onto his back, and tugged her down to rest beside him.
No words were uttered, but there was something to be said for contentment. For the first time in a long while, Madeline felt safe enough that her eyes fluttered closed, and as she put a hand on his chest, her breathing evened out, and she allowed slumber to claim her.