Sunrise with a Notorious Lord (25 page)

She gave his chest a hard shove while he was fighting to keep his balance, probably hoping he’d fall and crack his already bruised skull on a heavy piece of furniture. It would save her from grabbing the copper bed warmer and finishing the deed herself.

Vane’s spine collided with one of the ornate posts of her four-poster bed. “Damn it, woman, are you trying to kill me?”

“Yes,” she hissed, charging at him.

In his short life, Vane had tangled with numerous angry ladies intent on castrating him. Saint once told him that he had a talent for causing trouble, and perhaps his friend was right.

In a practiced motion, Vane caught Isabel in his arms and spun them about so he was on top of her when her lovely backside bounced on the mattress. The tiny orange tabby he had given her jumped straight into the air before darting off the mattress.

“Don’t hurt Christopher!”

Vane peered over the edge of the mattress, but the kitten had disappeared. He gave her an inscrutable look. “You named your cat after me?”

“If I were naming the cat after the conceited scoundrel who gave him to me, I would have called him
Vane,
” she said defensively. “Christopher just happens to be a name I favor. I know several gentlemen who bear the name whom I respect and admire.”

“Hmmm.”

“Let me up,” she said, the slender body he had come to know so well arched against his.

Perhaps it was rather arrogant of him, but he was feeling aroused and triumphant when he pinned her wrists above her head. “Struggle all you want. I promise to relish every delicious rub.”

Impotent and soundly caught, she glared up at him with defiance. “I hate you!”

Vane calmly studied her flushed face and glittering angry eyes. “No, my dear, in fact you are in love with me.”

Isabel stopped struggling and gaped at him. Her lower lip quivered mutinously before she burst into tears.

“Isabel … Isabel,” he crooned as he released her wrists. “There, there, darling … don’t cry.”

Taking advantage of her limited freedom, she covered her face with one hand and tried to push him away with the other. “Oh, you horrible man. Have you come just to torment me? Why must you take everything from me?”

She rolled, burying her face into the nearest pillow and beginning to cry in earnest.

Her misery cut him to the quick. Vane felt helpless, and it unmanned him that he was responsible for her tears.

“Isabel, look at me.” He tenderly peeled her hands from her face. “Hush, love, no more games. I’ve come to give you something.”

Isabel hiccuped. “What?” she asked warily.

Wet strands of hair were clinging to her cheeks. His fingers brushed them from her face. “Everything. I have already given you my friendship and body. It seems appropriate that you claim my love and name as well. Isabel Thorne, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“W-what?” Stunned, she tried to push herself up on her elbows. Her forehead connected with his chin. Groaning, she slapped her palm over her bruised brow and stared at him with a dazed expression. “What did you say?”

Uncertainty crawled up his spine until he felt the tension in his neck. “I am asking you to marry me.”

Instead of the enthusiastic assent he was expecting, Isabel’s expression crumbled as her eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

In his entire life, Vane had never felt the slightest desire to offer marriage to a lady. He had always assumed that when he got around to it, the lady would be
happy
about it.

“Have I mistaken your feelings, Isabel?” Vane asked, lowering his head and kissing her cheek. “I am not a bad gent. My looks are passable, I have all my teeth, and I can make you a countess.”

She choked back what could have been a sob or a giggle and turned her face away, giving him access to the side of her neck. Perhaps it was ruthless of him, but he was going to gain her consent even if he had to seduce her. His cock throbbed in agreement. He had been hard and ready for her the moment they had landed on the mattress.

Isabel shuddered as his tongue licked her earlobe. She turned her head to halt his sensual ministrations, and to his relief and amazement she was laughing. “Stop. Passable looks and strong teeth are no reason to marry a man.”

“Do not forget that you will be my countess,” he teased, and was rewarded with a watery smile from her.

“Vane, your mother—” Isabel sighed when he nibbled her neck.

“This is not the moment to bring up my mother,” he said, letting his body press against hers so she could feel his arousal.

“But … Delia?”

Vane cupped her chin. “If you must know,
you
were my mother’s choice all along. Delia was merely a ruse to keep us from figuring out her true intentions. She’s a wily old woman, I grant you, but she managed to pick the perfect bride for me. Marry me, Isabel.”

“I—”

The look he gave her was positively mischievous. “So you want to be convinced.”

“No, I…”

He lowered his head and put his mouth over her right breast, suckling her nipple through the thin linen fabric of her nightgown.

“Ah, yessss,” Isabel drawled until her breath hissed through her teeth. Her legs moved restlessly against the mattress.

“Like that, do you?” he murmured, his hands sliding possessively over the soft mounds until his fingers grasped the lacy collar of her nightgown. Without warning, he tore the thin fabric down the front, exposing her form. “Lovely.” He took a few seconds to admire her bared breasts. “And mine to lick and fondle, are they not?”

Isabel responded by cupping his testicles through his trousers. Solid instincts made the flesh between his legs retract and tighten. The snug garment offered little protection if she planned to maim him. He shuddered as she caressed him.

“Only if I can make the same claim. Is this mine?” she purred. The sound had his cock straining for release.

“Christ, yes,” he said hoarsely. “Everything. It is yours.”

“Prove it.” She lightly squeezed his testicles, and his body reacted as if she’d wedged a bit in his mouth. He gave way, allowing their positions to reverse.

“I was lying the day that we argued.” With a hooded gaze he watched as she unfastened his trousers and tugged at the fabric until she had freed his cock. Vane was fully aroused, a condition that seemed to occur whenever she was close. “What we had—it was more than fucking. I always wanted more, long before I could admit it to myself.”

Isabel leaned over him, her breasts spilling out of her torn nightgown. “I know.” She offered him the top of her head as her tongue tentatively licked the spot just beneath the head of his cock. “Nevertheless, I knew from the beginning you could not be mine.”

Vane blindly gripped the sheets; his spine felt like it was about to break as he strained against her gentle, exploratory onslaught. He had not bothered to undress, but Isabel did not seem to mind since she was wholly focused on the thick length of flesh between his legs.

“Wrong. I’m yours. Please!” he begged, his mind clouding as her front teeth grazed his sensitive flesh.

Vane had tasted her arousal, but he had never invited Isabel to do the same: He had not wanted to frighten her with his carnal appetites. In truth, he loved the feel of a woman’s lips and tongue close around his cock, the gentle thrusting that coaxed her to take as much of him as she could handle. The heady thrill as his seed burst out of him while his lover’s throat worked to swallow every salty drop. How many nameless, faceless females had pleasured him in that manner? Even in the beginning, Isabel had meant more to him, so he had denied himself the indulgence out of respect for the woman he had fallen in love with.

“Isabel, you do not have to. You have nothing to prove.”

“Hush.” She shifted the position of her body so she could do more than impress him with her tongue.

Vane gasped and his buttocks tightened as the head of his cock brushed over her lips, over the teasing scrape of her teeth, and then deeper still until he was cradled by her tongue.

“Show mercy, Isabel!” He moaned as her inexperience proved to be more arousing than a courtesan’s skillful hand. “I am not made of stone.”

He almost whimpered when she released him. Giving him a saucy look, she said huskily, “Feels a bit like hot marble to me.” Isabel circled her fingers around the base of his rigid staff and squeezed. “I am not certain what to do. Should I suckle you, much as you do my breasts?”

His hips came off the mattress as her lips settled over the head and suckled him with enough pressure to make his eyes cross.

“Yes.”

Isabel’s fingers slid lower as she learned the shape and texture of him. More to herself, she said, “I like it when you stroke me with your tongue.” To prove her point, she teased the tip of his cock with a tantalizing flick. “Mmm, exotic and bitter. I’ve never tasted a man’s seed.”

“You will if you persist,” he gritted out as she tried to nibble down from the throbbing length to his hard testicles. Her hand moved lower, curious about what must have felt like marbles shifting within the hairy sac. Bemused by her discovery, she giggled softly, making every fine hair on his body prickle. Her breasts brushed against his outer thigh, when her tongue wiggled experimentally over the wrinkled flesh.

Vane seemed to have limited control when it came to Isabel, and the minx had provoked him to the point of madness. “Enough,” he said, roughly pulling her up until she covered him, and then rolling her onto her back. He removed his frock coat and sent it sailing over the side of the bed.

There was laughter and a smidgeon of smugness in her eyes until he forgot about undressing and instead hastily sheathed himself in her slick channel. They both groaned as he filled her.

“Temptress,” he muttered, kissing her and tasting himself on her tongue. His need to claim her with his body bordered on madness, but this was nothing new for either of them. Pulling him closer, Isabel bit the side of his jaw, and dragged his mouth to her neck. Her hips arched against his as he madly pounded his cock into her, each enthusiastic stroke drawing him deeper.

Vane was out of his depth when it came to this woman, but he no longer cared. Seizing her by the hips, he surrendered himself completely to her. Isabel sobbed his name and clung to him as his hips gave one frenzied thrust. He buried his face against the side of her neck. The head of his cock seemed to explode as the constricting muscles of her sheath milked him for his seed.

Vane held nothing back. His body spoke with an eloquence his tongue often lacked when he was around Isabel. She muddled his brain and left him crazed with lust. He wanted to spend the rest of his life pleasuring her in and out of bed.

Still buried inside her, he cupped her face with his hand. “Marry me, Isabel.”

His heart fluttered with panic when she sighed. “Why?”

“Because I love you,” he said without hesitation. “Don’t think me honorable, my motives are selfish in nature. I cannot go a single day without you. I want to see you at my table in the morning and my bed each night. When our gazes meet across a crowded ballroom, everyone will know that you are mine. This is not about my mother or my duty to my family. This is about me … and you. About the life we can build together. What say you, Isabel? Are you daring enough to gamble with a Lord of Vice?”

His heart almost stopped when she shook her head.

“No, but I’ll take that risk with you.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I have loved you for so long, but it seemed hopeless. I have been miserable for weeks because Delia was fated to be your countess.”

Vane swallowed his anger. His mother had much to answer for—her good intentions had almost cost him Isabel. “No chance of that,” he said, kissing her nose. “Since my heart was already ensnared by a brown-eyed temptress.”

To demonstrate the power she had over him, Vane moved his hips against hers, a gentle reminder that he was far from finished with his lady.

From the corner of his eye, Vane noticed that his furry namesake was clawing his way back onto the mattress. Large green eyes regarded him somberly as the kitten tried to use Isabel’s long hair for bedding.

She laughed and extended her arm upward to pet the creature. “There, there, sweetheart, you will have to learn to share.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she was speaking to him or the cat. “I cannot believe you gave the beast my name,” he grumbled, eyeing the sharp claws warily. For once, he was grateful most of his flesh was covered.

“Somehow it seemed appropriate.” She grinned up at him and wiggled her hips, which got his attention.

A new wave of desire washed over him. The mischievous girl was playing with fire. “Perhaps you should give him another name.”

His friends were never going to let him hear the end of it when they learned Isabel had named her cat after him. He could just imagine Frost’s raunchy jokes about Isabel’s partiality to
little Christopher
.

“But I
love
Christopher,” she protested.

So changing the name of the kitten could wait. Vane had more important tasks that deserved his attention. He reached for the nearest pillow. “And so you shall, my lady. Often and most thoroughly, if I have anything to say about it.”

With her warm laughter filling the bedchamber, the pillow was the first to hit the floor with a soft
plop
. A very disgruntled cat landed on top of the feathered mound. Stepping off the pillow, the beast sat on the rug and began the meticulous task of cleaning himself.

More than an hour would pass before it was safe to climb onto the bed again.

Chapter Thirty

“There is no sign that your sister slept in her bed.”

Mrs. Dalman made the announcement in the calm, seemingly unflappable manner that the Thorne family had come to rely on over the years.

Any other morning, Isabel would have been scandalized to be sharing an intimate breakfast with her lover. However, Delia always had a way of becoming the center of attention even when she wasn’t in the room.