Ruined by Moonlight (27 page)

It
had
been a gamble to lay down her terms in this intimate war. She wondered if he fathomed how much she’d risked. He had options, plenty of them, if she denied him. “Do you have a mistress?”

Ben looked more than a little startled. After a moment he did his usual and didn’t answer directly. “Why would you even ask?”

“Many men do.”

“Alicia…many people do many things…and that does not mean all gentlemen of our class keep a mistress just because some of them indulge in that behavior.”

It was rather nice to hear the exasperation in his tone. But, she noted—now with a relieved sense of humor—he didn’t deny or confirm, just gave her a generality. “Is that a denial? With you it is always hard to tell.”

“I’m confounded over why you would even suspect that was possible when I have made it so abundantly clear I wish to share your bed very much.”

He still hadn’t answered. Not directly. She said quietly, “I ask because I care about the answer.”

Her husband rose then, his chair scraping back. “Shall I demonstrate how much I want you and no one else?”

The woman was driving him to madness.

Completely.

Without question.

If she had no idea how tempting she was in that soft green dress that draped her curves, her dark hair loosely gathered, her lovely face softened by the moonlight, she was not paying attention to his riveted interest.

Did she really have the naive misconception that he might be even remotely interested in anyone else?

Well, it would be his pleasure to prove to her otherwise. Alicia eyed his outstretched hand and then offered her slim one in response, letting him pull her to her feet. She was still more maiden than seductress, for she lowered her gaze and her cheeks held a hint of color, but her fingers did curl around his and she willingly followed his urging into the bedroom.

When he eased her gown off one shoulder she didn’t object, but instead gasped when he lowered his head to lick her bared breast, the pink tip of her nipple taut under the swirl of his tongue.

He wanted to get her with child. For the first time it was not an obligation to his title or an affirmation of his birthright, but he wanted to see her ripe with his son or daughter. Maybe it was the intrinsic femininity of her body that prompted that sudden realization, or maybe it was his acclimation to a marriage that was becoming more and more a reality when he’d done his best to set it aside.

Either way, at this moment he was very aware that his wife had become part of his life. Her methods hadn’t been the easiest to accept, but he had to admit she’d accomplished that part of her goal.

When her hands caught his shoulders and she took in a swift breath, he took that rigid nipple deep in his mouth and sucked, and was rewarded by her answering moan.

Not a bad start to what he hoped would be a very satisfying end to an already enjoyable evening. He’d had a most delicious meal, and now he intended to indulge himself with his wife in the most carnal way possible.

Much better than a boring soiree or an insipid fête populated by shallow people he didn’t like all that much to begin with, the false gaiety all too often a symbol of their empty lives.

He wanted so much more.

“Turn around.” He urged her with his hands and then unfastened her gown with an astounding swiftness, even to him. Alicia wore only a simple shift underneath, and he divested her of that too as fast possible, and then undid her hair. “The bed.”

Maybe later the autocratic tone of his voice would give him pause, but not now, not when he’d wanted her all evening, not when he remembered exactly what it was like to have her in his arms.

She obeyed—not necessarily a given considering her recent streak of independence—and moved toward the bed with her long hair brushing her luscious buttocks. As Ben took off his shirt, boots, and breeches with alacrity, he wondered if his current state of need was unprecedented because of her approach to the situation or because of his reaction to it.

Either way, she was winning. Not that this was a war but it was at least a skirmish, and the arsenal at her disposal far outweighed his weaponry.

He was fully aroused and ready to take her, but it was hardly as if he was engaging the enemy. More like a battle between forces that might not be exactly opposing, but certainly did not see eye to eye. “So,” he said in a whisper as he lowered himself next to her and smoothed a lock of silken dark hair off her brow, “what is it you want next?”

“That is suitably vague, my lord.” She looked back at him, her eyes luminous. “We are naked in bed together.
I assume there is a certain expectation on both sides.”

“I want to make love to you.”

“Do you?”

“Oh yes.”

Alicia reached up and touched his cheek. It was light but the brush of her fingers sent fire through his body. “Well put, for I do love you.”

He wasn’t ready for it.

Every muscle went still, locked into place.

Not ready for innocent declarations of love, not for the implications of it all, not for his own tumultuous feelings. Instead Ben kissed her when he could take a breath, parted her thighs with his knees and tested her readiness with fingers that found warmth and a gratifying wetness. He adjusted his position and entered her, not slowly with his usual restraint but in a swift thrust, and through the pleasure as he fought for an apology for his abruptness, she said breathlessly, “Oh.”

Such a simple syllable that held so much meaning. It wasn’t enough that she was delectably tight, her arousal fueling his own, and when her arms wound around his neck and she arched closer, he came undone.

Completely.

“Move with me,” he said persuasively, his eyes closing. “Lift your hips.”

Her acquiescence was perfection. Her slender body undulated with his, taking his cock as he moved in quickening need, her thighs tightening around his hips, her breath warm against his shoulder, and when he reached between them and touched her between her legs, she made a soft sound of pleasure, the betraying tremble giving him the affirmation that she was also enjoying it.

A soft bed, his beautiful wife in his arms…what could offer more satisfaction in this life?

Arousal built, rose to a pinnacle that couldn’t be denied, and he rotated his fingers in just the right spot. As her inner muscles tightened and she cried out, he lost control and orgasmic release rushed in, the pleasure so acute he groaned and stiffened as he poured into her, rapture slamming through him, making the world spin.

He went lax for a few crucial moments until he came to the realization that his weight might be too much and rolled to his side. He held her in the panting aftermath, his cheek against the fragrant spread of her hair, and wondered what to say.

Did a man need to say anything just because he’d pleasured his wife—and been pleasured in turn? The protocol of it escaped him, and he didn’t really care, because she seemed as content as he was to lie there as their respiration came back to normal and the clock on the mantel ticked into the resulting silence.

Until she shattered his world by whispering again, “Ben…I…I love you.”

He had no idea how to respond. Love was not a foreign concept, but the commitment involved in saying the words.…

She saved him then. Alicia had a unique way of doing just that. “It doesn’t require an answer.” Slender fingers raked through his hair and dark blue eyes held his gaze. “It doesn’t actually require anything, and regardless of whether or not you feel the same I love you. I thought I might say it at a more formal time but this seems more appropriate.”

It was.
Perfect
. With their bodies still joined, his thigh over hers, his hold close and possessive.

“Alicia.” He kissed her, but it was different from the earlier passion, instead gentle and tender, their lips clinging, her hair tangled in his hands. Later when she’d drifted to sleep, he lay in the darkness just listening to her breathe.

And it gave him joy.

I
t wasn’t as if he’d ever expected to escape this debacle easily, but when almost every conversation stilled when he walked into his club, Ran swore inwardly.

Maybe he should have taken another day in the country.

Not that it would have diminished the scandal, but at least he could have put it off. It was midafternoon, but there were still a fair number of members, all of them at the moment gawking at him.

If it was like this for him, he wondered how Elena would do her first time out in public.

“Good afternoon, my lord.” The steward was infinitely more polite than the patrons he served, for he greeted Ran with his usual courtesy as if nothing at all had happened. “Are you meeting with someone in particular?”

“No. Just stopped by for a drink.”

“There is a table in the corner if you would like it.” The young man kept his expression scrupulously neutral.

“Diplomatically put.” Ran smiled sardonically. “Perhaps that would be best.”

“Right this way and I will have your special whiskey brought at once.”

It occurred to him then that perhaps his fondness for Blaven was better-known than he imagined. Surely all the staff here knew of it since he had to order it and have it kept in reserve for him only.

Hell
. “Thank you,” he said somewhat grimly. “Lord Heathton doesn’t happen to be here, does he?”

“No, I’m afraid we have not seen his lordship today.”

That was unfortunate, as Ran wouldn’t mind talking to the earl in private, but it looked as if he’d have to call on him at home, which he’d rather have avoided. Though he’d provided a timely means of transport back to London, Heathton hadn’t seemed at all like he wished to be associated with their rescue and Ran really couldn’t blame him. His own current state of notoriety was evident as heads turned when he walked past.

Damn all
.

While the one person he’d hoped to see was not there, a moment later it was evident the person he’d hoped to see the least
was
there. The avid interest in his arrival made sense when he heard a voice say with cutting directness, “Andrews.”

He glanced up. Lord Colbert stood by the side of the table, his mouth a tight line. Basically, Ran had always liked the man well enough, though they weren’t particular friends. Wary but not wanting a confrontation, he said with as little inflection as possible, “Would you like to sit down? I think that might be best under the circumstances, or else I suppose we can discuss what I know you wish to discuss outside. Let us not make an unfortunate situation worse.”

To give him credit, Colbert considered it for a moment and then took a chair. His nostrils looked pinched and he nodded at the waiter when asked if he wished his drink brought over but he didn’t speak, leaving it to Ran to start the conversation.

Where
to
start?

I never touched her
.

No, not true. He’d kissed her, brought her to climax, shared intimate afternoons, slept in the same bed; in short he was guilty as hell even if he had left her virginity intact. However, since he had no idea yet what Whitbridge had told his potential son-in-law, Ran chose to say, “I count you a lucky man. Lady Elena is very beautiful and gracious.”

“Odd, that, coming from you.” The man across the table gazed at him in open animosity. “Or are you speaking from personal experience?”

Very close to a direct question. Ran nodded gratefully at the young waiter who discreetly set down his whiskey and not just because he needed the fortification, but because the distraction was also welcome as he contemplated his answer.

“Is this going to be an altercation, or do you wish to discuss what happened?”

That was straightforward enough.

Colbert took a moment to visibly compose himself. He inhaled deeply, and when the waiter delivered his drink he ran his fingers down the side of the glass and his hand was not quite steady. “To be honest, I’m not certain. You must admit I am in an awkward position.”

Ran said quietly, “There isn’t a man in this room who isn’t paying attention to our conversation. They may not
be able to hear us speak, but they are watching. Keep it in mind. I’d prefer that Elena suffer as little as possible. I assume you feel the same.”

“I haven’t spoken with Lady Elena yet.”

“Oh?” That hardly helped the situation. What precisely had Whitbridge told him? Ran settled back and picked up his glass. “We could resolve this with pistols at dawn or we could be more civilized. Which do you prefer?”

“Which one should I contemplate?”

I have to give the English credit,
Ran thought as he sat there,
for their understated approach to violence.
Tread lightly,
he reminded himself since he didn’t know yet how Elena’s father wished to handle the matter.

“I’ve never even been formally introduced to her,” he informed his guest, his gaze wary.

That was true and neutral enough.

Colbert stared at his drink but then looked up and his eyes were shadowed. “Be that as it may, were you together?”

The dreaded direct question. It took a moment, but then Ran said, “Not by choice.”

“What the devil does that mean?”

It was difficult to fault him for asking or for his male outrage. “I’m sure Lord Whitbridge told you what happened.”

“Actually, he was rather evasive about it all, saying he wasn’t quite sure what transpired but that Elena had not left London voluntarily with you.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. How nice of Whitbridge to leave it so vague he was vilified. Ran responded as calmly as possible, “If the implication is that I had anything to do with her absence, that is untrue and had
best not be repeated. For whatever reason, we were both abducted. At different times, by different means, and as I just said, I had never even been introduced to her. I’d never asked. Unlike you, I am not interested in marriage at this time.”

“Abducted? That’s…”

“Ludicrous. I agree. But it happened. On my honor. Neither one of us knows who or why, but it is the truth.”

“May I take that as an assurance that you kept your distance, then?”