Chapter Three #2
“I understand and was once where you were.” The other man clapped a hand on his shoulder. “However, I wish you luck and hope you find something that will soothe your demons, or at the very least quell them so you can find a modicum of peace.”
He nodded. “As do I.” Then he took his leave of Steppingford and eventually made his way down to the library. Guests were scarce in the corridor, and that was a good thing, for he didn’t wish to be interrupted. Once he entered the room, he closed the door softly behind him.
“I wasn’t certain you would come.” The widow rested on a chaise lounge with her legs stretched along the crushed mauve velvet length with her skirting arranged around her.
Her blonde hair gleamed in the faint illumination from the few candles let about the room.
Overall, she made quite a charming and very tempting picture.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Her shrug lifted only one shoulder. “You know me not at all, and neither do I know you.”
“That matters not to me.” Where was the harm in a few kisses if it might draw out the information he needed?
As he strolled toward her location, he offered what felt like a tight grin.
“But I don’t mind such beautiful company.
” Perhaps a bit of seduction is in order, for he wasn’t exactly dead yet.
“You said you wished to make connections. What does that mean?”
“Oh, well, I wish to make friends, but I’m also of a mind to husband hunt.”
He frowned and gripped the head of his cane tighter. “You wish to marry again? Though you’re only just out of mourning, from what Steppingford has told me?”
With a nod, she peered up at him, her eyes practically inviting him close. “If the opportunity presents itself and the man is interesting enough.”
Fair enough. “Did you enjoy marriage the last time?”
“Not at all.” Shadows played through her eyes. “I won’t lie. Marklesfield was a horrible person, and there are only so many times a wife can be beaten or abused by her husband before every feeling she has for him turns to hatred and disgust.”
He appreciated the fact that she was plain spoken and confident in being so. “I am familiar with both those emotions.”
“Oh?” When she said nothing else, he was compelled to answer.
“Yes.” With some reluctance, Michael nodded.
“Currently, I am out of favor with Prinny and his government because I was a spy during the war. My last mission was a failure; they consider that a personal embarrassment. I feel both those emotions for my elusive quarry as well as myself.” There was no harm in admitting to both.
“Surely it wasn’t your fault, unless you are inept, but you don’t look it.”
“I appreciate the compliment; I’d like to think I wasn’t, yet I failed all the same.”
When she flicked her gaze over his person, he felt it as if she’d caressed him. “And thus, the reason for your darkness and your reclusive nature.”
“Perhaps.” Daring much, Michael settled next to her on the sofa, prepared to take her legs into his lap, but she immediately switched position to layer herself half against his chest.
She smoothed the gloved fingertips of one hand along the scar that decorated the right side of his brow. No, she didn’t reflect horror, but then that wasn’t the most hideous of his scars. “Since you don’t dance, I wonder if your injuries prevent you from doing other, more interesting… activities.”
Thank goodness she was on his left side.
He shifted slightly to accommodate his growing arousal.
The good thing about widows was the fact they had experience behind them, which translated into knowing exactly what they wanted.
There were no delicate sensibilities to overcome and no flirting around the issue.
It made a seduction scenario much easier.
“I make do.” Slowly, while watching her, he removed his gloves while she did the same. “Have never had complaints.” That he knew of. If women gossiped about him, he didn’t care; he could only be who he was. And if such a thing gained him his quarry, so be it.
“Mmm.” When she slightly moistened her bottom lip, his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Well tonight, I’m feeling particularly inclined for a bit of scandal. Are you willing to indulge me?”
It was flattering to have a woman blatantly proposition him for carnal pursuits. “We have only just met.” Not that he cared.
“Does that matter?” Her voice was low and smoky while she arched a feathery blonde eyebrow. “We are old enough to realize such things are irrelevant if both parties are attracted to each other.”
That was true. Desire fairly crackled between them. “You wish to trap me into marriage.” It wasn’t a question, and she already said she was husband hunting, though such an arrangement could work into his plans…
“Not at all.” She pressed her lips to the side of his neck, and he stopped himself from shuddering at the unexpected touch.
“I simply want a night of physical satisfaction. Lord knows I never had much of that from my husband, and you seem as if you know how to please a woman.” As she spoke, her lips brushed his skin.
Heat crept up the back of his neck to collide with the heat coming off her body. It was a most welcome contrast to the slight chill in the air. “I occasionally make use of courtesans, haven’t done so in quite a while, but I dislike having anyone close.”
Her eyelids flickered, hiding the emotions in her eyes. “I have no expectations, just urges.”
“I understand that all too well.” Then he tossed aside caution for the moment in favor of courting scandal, and if it furthered his own plans, so be it.
“Let us see if your flirting has substance.” Seconds later, he slipped his hand to her nape, dragged her against his body, and fit his lips to hers.
It had been at least half a year since he’d had a woman in his bed, and even longer than that since he’d kissed one.
If he were honest with himself, kissing wasn’t needed when getting one’s rocks off, yet doing exactly that with Lady Evangeline was much like imbibing in hashish.
Far too soon, he found himself lost, couldn’t have enough of those two soft pieces of flesh, and he needed so much more.
As the kiss deepened and they exchanged thrusts and parries with tongues, a guttural groan escaped him as he set out to devour this woman, this stranger.
Either this would prove the best idea or the worst, but in the moment, he didn’t much care either way, not while she was unraveling the knot of his cravat or tugging his shirttails from the waist of his satin evening breeches.
“I’m surprised, Your Grace,” she whispered against his lips. “You’ve managed to impress me, but then, anyone would after the horrid excuse of a husband I had.”
Perhaps he was a nodcock, but those words fed his ego, and he wished to continue to bask in her praise. With his good hand, he hooked his fingers into the low bodice and after a few good tugs, the fabric of her gown drifted downward enough that he could free her breasts.
“God, they are perfection.” The pale globes with their hardened, pebbled dark pink tips fairly demanded his attention. He took one in his hand, palmed it, weighed it, worried the nipple with the pad of his thumb until a soft moan pulled from her throat.
Watching him, the lady pinched her other nipple. “My husband was rubbish when it came to everything in the bedroom—unless he was with his mistress—so I long ago was forced to learn how to pleasure myself.”
Damnation. His engorged shaft pulsed. “Shit, but I would very much like to see that.” Perhaps if they were alone, he’d demand she do just that.
After all, he was a man with dark tastes in the carnal realm.
How would she react if she knew about his toys and restraints, that need for control when so much of his life was missing exactly that?
“Mmm, who knows what the future holds.”
“Indeed.” While he continued to fondle her breast, he took the nipple into his mouth and teased that tip with his lips, tongue, and teeth.
“Dear heavens,” she gasped out on a whisper as she threw back her head. “My husband’s idea of bedding me was going directly to rutting. Never did he indulge in foreplay.”
“Then he was a damned fool.”