Seductive as Flame (21 page)

“A little patience, darling.” He ran his palms down Zelda’s back, slender waist, over the plump curve of her bottom like a rider gentling his mount before settling in the saddle. “Although you’re always ready, aren’t you? An attractive asset in a woman,” he whispered, sliding his fingers between her legs, testing her readiness like one would a mare about to be mounted.

She quivered, feverish with need after waiting half the day.

“Would any cock do, I wonder?” he softly said.

“Right now, I’d prefer yours, if you don’t mind. And a little less challenge.”

“My, my—how demanding. Do men like that?”

She bit back the temptation to respond. He was unpredictable. And she needed him at the moment.

He gave her points for restraint. But then she was ripe for mounting. His fingers were drenched, her sex slick, needy. He slid his fingers gently up and down her moist cleft, once, twice, three times while she softly panted. When he turned his attention to her distended clitoris, her gasp brought a faint smile to his lips. “Now in terms of timetables,” he murmured, continuing his delicate massage, “how fast is fast for you? Should I just ram it in or should I take my time? How rough would you like it? Or not rough at all? How much do you want my cock in you? You must tell me.” He allowed a pause to develop. “No more insolence?” he murmured, conscious of her tenseness, her erratic breathing as he stroked her silky tissue. “How easy it is to silence you.”

That Miss MacKenzie’s ready passions were an issue disturbed him briefly. But the lady took the initiative as she was wont to do, swung her hips backward a considerable distance, his fingers slipped deeper inside her, and suddenly he had other things on his mind. The splendor of her shapely, alluring bottom for one, her hot, moist sex engulfing his fingers secondly, and of course, what was most notable—his cock was in full rut and aching like a son of a bitch.

Time enough for introspection later.

He slapped her bottom out of sheer truculence and ordered, gruff and peremptory, “Up, up—higher. Higher. I can’t quite reach you.” He could reach her perfectly well. But she’d wrought such signal changes in his life, he required retribution, he supposed. As she quickly rose on tiptoe and made herself more available, he smiled, and when he plunged into her and she instantly climaxed, his smiled widened.

One could forgive a woman like that almost anything.

Adjusting his grip on her hips, wanting better purchase, he didn’t wait for her orgasm to diminish but tested the limits of her glorious cunt with gluttonous zest and a level of gratification previously unknown to him. Meanwhile, the lady indulged in a gratuitous number of orgasms while he chose to extend the sybaritic, obscenely stunning rapture bombarding his senses. Until, after what seemed a shimmering endless interval, he reached the proverbial point of no return and was faced with a notable dilemma.

Notable for a number of reasons. He’d never faced the dilemma before. Nor would a rational man have debated the issue at all. No more than a rational man would have invited Miss MacKenzie to his hunting lodge. Since he had, however, it begged the question whether reason was in any way involved.

The answer wasn’t reassuring.

The fact that he’d not withdrawn from her exceedingly welcoming body when his climax was fast peaking suggested prevailing custom hung in the balance. Perhaps if she hadn’t slid her hand between her legs, taken his testicles in a soft, tender grip and gently stretched them, his habits of a lifetime might have continued to hang in the balance.

As it was, he began to ejaculate the moment she tugged on his testicles, and he continued to gush into her sweet, tight, frictionless cunt for endless moments, eyes shut, his heart pumping wildly, his brain convulsed with ecstasy.

He was, of course, sorry he’d done what he’d done the moment his orgasm was over and cooler counsel held sway. But his semen was running down her thighs at that point and his erection was still only mildly diminished, and that proved to be even more of a problem in terms of cooler counsel. Then she said, “Is that all?” and smiled at him over her shoulder.

Really, there was no question that Miss MacKenzie was a most delightful houseguest, nor was there any question of removing from his current location. Until much later, she finally said in that frank way of hers, “My legs are tired. Do you mind doing something else?”

He didn’t.

He took a seat in that same chair, lifted her onto his lap, politely said, “Is this better?” and was delighted with her sweet smile and her even sweeter cunt sliding down his cock. After that no one talked for some time.

He’d decided after that first mishap that he might as well indulge himself when it came to ejaculating. Whether he came in her once that afternoon or more than once surely no longer signified. She agreed. She was most agreeable in every other way as well, and he said as much later when they’d moved to the bed.

“I’m so very pleased we met,” he said, gazing down on her after their latest orgasm, the faint warmth of her skin light against his.

She laughed. “Is that what you call this?”

“You delight me in body and spirit,” he said with a boyish smile. “You bring sunshine and joy in your wake. Is that better?”

“If you mean it.”

“Of course I do.” A deep, leisurely tone. “I don’t invite women home.”

“Well, then, I’m flattered, my lord,” she teasingly replied. It would never do to believe a faithless rogue like Dalgliesh. But she liked that she was the first, at least, when it came to his guest list.

He frowned. “Flirtatious women I know by the score.”

“More than a score from all reports.”

“Stop.”

“Or?” A seductive smile, challenge in the faint arch of her brows.

He grinned. “I’ll make you stop.”

“Do tell,” she said with a dazzling grin of her own.

He did then at some length, his feelings left in limbo. He didn’t know how to explain the novel sensations, in any case. Nor was he willing to pursue such perilous concepts when it came right down to it. He understood why she was here, she understood why she was here. Best leave it at that.

But much later that afternoon, with the lush, captivating Miss MacKenzie lying beneath him, matching him stroke for stroke in a hard, pulsing rhythm, with pleasure prodigal and a wistful fervor infusing his senses, he found himself unmaking his life without a qualm. “What if I gave you a child?” he whispered. “Would you like that?”

She didn’t answer. She was panting.

“Good,” he said.

CHAPTER 16

W
HILE THE TWO lovers were navigating the physical and emotional limits of carnal sensation, a spirited discussion was taking place in the kitchen. Katy had described in lively detail what had transpired in the earl’s dressing room as she was leaving.

“I wouldn’t expect to see hide or hair of either of them’til dinner,” Katy cheerily said. “He’s sweet on her. It’s plain as day.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” a footman cautioned. “He’s not the type. Love ’em and leave ’em, that’s his game.”

The housekeeper, who’d known Alec from childhood, who wished him the happiness he deserved, softly sighed. “Even if he is sweet on her, his wicked wife stands in the way. Poor boy.”

“Then it’s time he divorce her.” Even Rowan was surprised at the vehemence in his voice; he wasn’t, by nature, strident.

The staff in Dalgliesh’s various establishments were privy to every nuance of their employers’ lives, and save for the old earl, they’d served the Munros with affection. The retainers had always protected the dowager countess, too, as best they could. And they viewed the young boy who’d matured into the admirable man he was today as partly due to their fostering.

“You know that bitch’ll fight a divorce to her last breath,” the steward muttered. “She spends a fortune on herself every year.”

“There’s other ways,” one of the upstairs maids softly attested.

A hush descended in the kitchen, everyone’s thoughts on the dowager’s illness four years ago that had brought Alec home.

“Time enough for that,” the housekeeper flatly said, fingering the cameo at her throat. “If all else fails.”

“The flame-haired beauty might be just a passing fancy like all the others,” the hall porter cautioned. “Best wait and see.”

“If’n she ain’t though,” said a young groom who’d just come in for his lunch. “We can always help things along.”

A wholesale nodding of heads acknowledged his statement, and the silence lengthened as all thoughts centered on their young lord’s plight.

Until Rowan suddenly clapped his hands. “Back to work everyone. There’s nothing we can do today.”

“Except tiptoe by the lady’s bedroom so as not to break their rhythm,” a young lad quipped.

“That’s enough, Matthew,” the housekeeper sharply reprimanded. “I won’t have any lewd talk about his lordship or his guest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

But the lad beside him whispered in his ear, “As if she don’t know Dalgliesh is known far and wide for vice and debauch, lucky dog.”

As the housekeeper’s glowering gaze skewered him, the boy quickly murmured, “I was just sayin’ that Lord Dalgliesh deserves all our help and support, ma’am.”

“Humph. I should hope so. Now, I won’t hear any ill spoken of the earl. Do you hear? He survived a childhood that would have turned any other boy into a monster, bless his soul. And he’s taking care of his mother and that evil woman’s children with the unselfishness of a saint. So if he kicks up his heels now and again,” she said, referring to Alec’s dissipation in euphemistic terms, “he’s allowed. Is that clear?” She swung her dour gaze over the crowd. “Everyone. Clear?”

Murmurs of affirmative echoed round the room.

“Now off with you.” She waved her hand vigorously. “The chef and I have a dinner to deal with. His lordship must have all his favorite foods tonight.”

 

A
T THE SAME time her husband was randomly and perhaps involuntarily transforming his life, the Countess of Dalgliesh was having tea with the ladies at Groveland Chase. The men were still out hunting, although the afternoon light was beginning to fade, the thin grey mist outside the windows muting the landscape into blurred shapes and shadow.

In contrast to the muted, grey day outside, the ladies lounging about the room looked like so many hothouse flowers in their colorful tea gowns trimmed and festooned with ribbons, lace, and endless ruffles. Fires crackled in the fireplaces at both ends of the sitting room, the chandeliers had been turned on, and soft-footed servants moved about the room, offering champagne and sweets to the ladies, refilling glasses, lighting cigarettes for those who partook of the Turkish weed, and taking note of Neville’s unobtrusive nods or raised finger as he directed the ritual of tea from his position near the door.

Violetta and Bella were engaged in a tête-à-tête over champagne and a plate of plum comfits set on a table between them, their conversation predictably about men. Both were beautiful, thoroughly self-centered, and shamelessly wanton. That their fashionable milieu regarded fidelity with amusement allowed them such license.

From a very young age, both women had learned how to use their beauty to advantage. Bella’s husband was charming and rich and involved in his own pursuits; they lived a civilized life. As for Violetta, her first husband had unfortunately gambled away a fortune, and when his life had come to an end in a fit of drunken despair, she’d been left with a young child and her husband’s mountain of debts.

But she’d recovered nicely as everyone knew. And so Bella said with a sly smile, “Darling, your position is secure. You’re married to Dalgliesh. It can hardly matter if he ruts with that Scottish woman at midday in Piccadilly Square so long as you’re his wife. Does that MacKenzie woman affect your allowance? No. Does she affect your, shall we say, amusements? No. Does she affect your place in society? Not in the least. And really, dear, you know Alec. He’ll forget her name in a day or so.”

“That may be, but he embarrassed me last night,” Violetta said, fretful and sulky. “You saw him. He practically hovered over that hussy before dinner, when everyone knows he’s the last person in the world to give that sort of attention to a woman.”

“He’s just temporarily infatuated. You have to admit Miss MacKenzie has presence. And she adventures around the world. Men like that sort of exotic female. He’ll tire of her soon enough. Doesn’t he always?”

“The strumpet’s not only fast and loose, she’s utterly brazen.” Violetta schooled her face to a mendacious apprehension. “She actually threatened me, you know.”

“My heavens! What did you do?” Exchanging lovers and husbands was normally done with well-bred urbanity. Everyone understood the rules.

“Naturally, I walked away. I was terrified,” Violetta said with a little dramatic shiver. “Who knows what the fiendish bitch might do?”

“Well, she’s gone now,” Bella said with a shrug of indifference. “And so much the better, if you ask me. She didn’t appear to have any conversation. I tried to talk to her once after dinner and she barely replied.”

“The Highlands are hardly the place to learn fine manners.”

“I doubt Alec’s interested in her manners,” Bella sardonically noted.

Violetta’s fine nostrils flared, feeling the slight. It was humiliating that Alec had so brazenly played court to a woman. Especially when he was notorious for avoiding all but the most idle flirtations.
Everyone
had noticed his arresting interest in Miss MacKenzie. “I want her to pay,” Violetta bitterly declared, the shift in her domestic affairs unacceptable. “And I intend to see that she does.”

“I understand your frustration, darling. You’re angry. But don’t we all want what we want?
I
came to this godforsaken place hours from civilization in the hope that Jamie had tired of his wife. It’s been over a year, and she’s been breeding for a good deal of that time. I thought he’d be looking for other playmates by now. Alas, no. And she’s actually nursing their son. Did you know that?” The blond beauty made a face. “I can’t imagine that can be attractive. You’d think dripping breasts would be rather messy, if not completely off-putting to any thought of passion.”