Beauty and the Earl Page 8

  He didn’t face her, but his shoulders stiffened in reaction.

  “But I’m sorry, my lord, I do not preen or pity, even under dire circumstances. If you want a woman to do that, you have not found her.” He faced her in surprise, and she shrugged. “Everyone has their heartaches, Liam. Yours are very tragic, yes, I would never deny that or pretend otherwise. But ultimately, they are no more tragic than a hundred or a thousand others I have met or seen.”

  He didn’t move or say a word for a very long moment. As the firelight hit his face, she caught his breath, both at how handsome he was and how unreadable he had become.

  “Do you count yourself amongst those with tragedies to contend with?” he asked.

  She met his gaze. She might have to reveal something of herself to get what she wanted, but she refused to do it with a bent head. What she had endured had made her who she was, she felt no shame about her past.

  “You know some of my story. I suppose it is tragic enough.”

  “Some of your story, yes,” he said, and now he was the one to step toward her. His green gaze never wavered from her face and she found heat filling her cheeks under his close regard.

  “But your father’s attempt at a forced marriage and the bastard who tried to subvert it in the most disgusting way possible isn’t the whole story, is it?”

  She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

  “Then tell me more.”

  She forced herself not to fold her arms across her chest in an expression of self-protection. She drew in a long, deep breath and began the next part of her tale.

  “Obviously, you can see I am not the usual woman who walks the streets of London. My mother was Spanish and came here to work as a servant when she was a young woman.”

  He examined her face and she waited. Some men flinched away if her heritage was revealed. One of her protectors had once broken with her when he found out, though he had praised her for her “dark, exotic looks” before that moment.

  “Spanish,” he repeated with a nod. “That was my first guess.”

  She drew back slightly. Most men didn’t even try to guess her background.

  “And did you wax poetic in your mind about how exotic it made me?” she asked, bitterness tingeing her tone.

  He tilted his head in surprise. “I think your heritage gives you a unique look, yes. I suppose some might call it exotic, though I think that might reflect their lack of worldly awareness. Judging from your reaction, though, I suppose that is how you have been labeled all your life.”

  “Not all my life,” she said, trying hard not to sound resentful after she had just given him such a speech about everyone having troubles. It was very difficult when she was revealing one of the most painful aspects of her life.

  “What else were you called?” he asked.

  She sighed. “As a girl, children were cruel. I was, after all, the bastard child of a former servant and the titled man who made her believe he would love her. I was tortured for it and for the olive complexion and dark hair that has never been the rage.”

  “Your mother must have been a comfort,” he suggested.

  She flinched. “She was, until she died when I was just eight. Then my father, who couldn’t claim me as his own, of course, not with a wife and children and a title to be protected, arranged for me to be taken in by a middle-class family who owed him a debt. They did so, but I was never accepted or loved. They weren’t abusive, they didn’t physically harm me…but I knew I wasn’t wanted.”

  His lips thinned. “For that, I am truly sorry.”

  “Are you petting and cooing and pitying, my lord?” she whispered.

  He shook his head slowly. “Not in the slightest. You seem too strong and confident a woman to desire such false foolishness. I only think it unfair that you were treated with such little regard, both by your father and by the people who took you in. No child deserves that.”

  She smiled sadly. “And yet many receive so much worse, don’t they? Especially in these modern times. I’m sure their tales would make us both weep.”

  He tilted his head in acquiescence. “Probably true.”

  “You see, Liam, we all have stories. We all have pasts.” She leaned closer to him, touching his lips with just her fingertips. His eyes fluttered shut. “I am more interested in this moment.”

  He let his eyes open and smiled. “Suddenly, so am I.”

  “Should we go upstairs?” she asked.

  But to her surprise, he shook his head and motioned to the settee in front of the fire. “Why not right here?”

  She hesitated. “You wouldn’t feel as if that was an intrusion?”

  His lips thinned for a brief moment, but then he caught her hand and guided her to the couch. He urged her to sit and sank to his knees before her, wedging himself between her legs.

  “Have I not made myself clear?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Clearer by the moment, my lord. But I suppose you can never have enough clarity when it comes to these sorts of things.”

  For a moment, all his seriousness faded and he smiled. It was a very real expression and made him look a decade younger. She stared in stunned amazement and her heart swelled unexpectedly.

  How she wished she could make him smile like that every day. Every night.

  He began to shove at her skirts, tangling them around her calves, her thighs, and finally he lifted her hips and tucked her gown around her stomach so that he could look at her. And look he did.

  She very rarely wore drawers and her chemises were quite short and flimsy affairs, which meant she was almost entirely naked except for a pair of dark stockings and her hand-stitched slippers with a little heel.

  “Should I remove the rest?” she asked.

  He stroked a hand over her stocking-clad calf. “Are these silk?” She nodded, and he grinned again. “Leave them on, though some time I will tie you to my bed with these.”

  She jolted at the image that created. She had never been restrained by a lover and until that moment, she wouldn’t have thought she would want that. But now, the idea of being naked, tied to his bed, at his utter mercy…well, it was intoxicating.

  She groaned, and his smile fell, replaced by something more heated and possessive.

  “Open your legs a little further,” he ordered.

  She met his gaze and held it there as she slid down a fraction and opened her legs so that her pussy was revealed in the firelight.

  “Better?” she asked with an innocent flutter of her eyelashes.

  He groaned. “So much better. Now hold still. If you move, if you make a sound, I will stop what I’m doing.”

  “What are you doing?” she asked, made breathless by his forceful tone and the idea that he would stop the pleasure if she disobeyed.

  He looked at her with an arched brow. “Don’t make me stop before I start. Hush.”

  He lifted his weaker arm to cover her lips with a finger as he used his good hand to spread her lower lips and reveal her sex fully. She shivered at the touch of his hands on her flesh, already hot and tender from their shared glances and his unexpected control.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a delectable pussy,” he growled, opening her wider and stroking a thumb across the sleek entrance he found hidden there. “So pink and wet. It looks good enough to eat.”

  She squirmed and couldn’t help the moan that burst from her lips. No one had licked her in so long and she loved nothing more. From Liam’s full lips and talent with kissing, she knew his mouth on her sex would be better than anything else.

  He froze as she made the sound in her throat and looked up her body to shake his head. “So disobedient. Now I must punish you.”

  She didn’t have time to question. He lightly brought his hand down against her open sex for a slap. She jolted as the tingle of pain met the wet heat of pleasure, and her body’s reaction was utterly unexpected.

  She almost came.

  Her eyes went wide as she stared at him in disb
elief. He was watching her very closely as he returned his hand to her sex, but this time to lightly cup and stroke the slit, brushing his fingers at her entrance with gentleness.

  “You are very responsive,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to her. “And so open to—”

  He cut himself off with a shake of his head and dropped down so his face was very close to her sex. He brushed his rough cheek on her thigh and she jolted, but bit her lip so she wouldn’t make a sound. He smiled and looked up at her.

  “That’s a girl. You can learn.” He laughed. “Though I think you rather liked my punishment.”

  She bit her lip and closed her eyes, heat filling her cheeks. It was amazing how often this man made her blush. She, who had been in the business of pleasure for years. And yet with a few simple touches, with a few heated words, Liam could make her feel almost like a virgin again, untested and shy, uncertain and thrilling with anticipation of what he would do next.

  He didn’t disappoint. With a little moan of his own, he gently licked the smooth folds of her sex, spreading her open before he burrowed deeper and began to stroke his tongue along her slit in earnest.

  She arched beneath him, clutching at the settee pillows as he sucked and licked her most tender flesh. Waves of pleasure began to rock over her and controlling her cries was increasingly difficult. But she didn’t want him to stop. Even if the house burned down around them.

  She’d had lovers, of course. Most assumed she was there as an instrument of their pleasure. If she reached release, then bully for her, but they weren’t about to go out of their way to ensure she would come, let alone do something like this, which was only for her.

  And yet Liam enthusiastically stroked his tongue along her, rolling it around and around her swollen, tingling clitoris until she thought her lip would bleed from biting it to control her moans and cries. He fingered her folds, pressing one to her opening and sliding it deep inside as he continued to pleasure her with his mouth.

  He looked up at her as he tormented her, his green eyes holding her prisoner and increasing all the pleasure tenfold.

  “Do you want to come?” he asked between licks.

  She nodded, afraid to say yes for fear he would stop when she was on the edge and aching for release.

  He smiled a little against her flesh. “Then come. Let me hear what you’ve held back.”

  She cried out a needy sound that echoed in the room around them and probably pierced the hall and other chambers, but she didn’t care. Let the house know that he was giving her such pleasure. She doubted it would be a surprise to them.

  She lifted her hips, reaching for more as he sucked her clitoris, laving it with his tongue as he gripped her backside with both hands and held her up for the feast.

  Finally the pleasure was too much, the dam broke and she screamed his name on a broken breath. The tremors began, deep and harsh waves that broke over her and overwhelmed her. He licked her through them, keeping her coming and coming, keeping her pleasure at its peak as long as he could. And just when she didn’t think she could bear it anymore, just when the ripples of her orgasm had her weak on the couch, unable to do anything but moan and whimper, he stripped off his trousers in a smooth motion, lifted her weak legs around his shoulders and speared her with his cock.

  The pleasure, which had finally begun to ease its vise-like grip at her loins, immediately returned, and she lifted her hips to meet his hard thrusts. He pushed her back on the settee, his hands under her, lifting her, holding her steady as he swirled his hips, stroking deep inside her. Almost immediately, she saw the strain on his face, the need to spill his seed, to release the tension that had built between them for hours.

  She reached between them and found her swollen clitoris. He met her gaze in surprise as she rubbed her hand over herself, bringing back impossible pleasure with only a few certain strokes. As she cried out again, he pulled himself from her body with a guttural, animal roar and spent.

  He collapsed onto her, gathering her close, and she held him to her, stroking his thick hair, murmuring soft sounds of satisfaction and surrender.

  Surrender. She knew what it meant now more than ever. And more than ever, she feared that she might do just that—surrender everything to this man. And when she left, she wouldn’t be able to take back all she had given.

  Chapter Nine

  Liam drew a deep breath before he knocked on Violet’s chamber door and pushed it open. She was seated at her dressing table, writing a letter. As he came in, she covered the page up with a blank sheet and turned to face him with a smile.

  “Good afternoon,” she said, rising.

  He nodded, but he couldn’t help but look toward what she had hidden. What was she writing that she didn’t want him to see?

  He pushed the thought away. She could have her secrets. He wasn’t going to keep her anyway.

  That was a reminder he kept giving to himself, especially in the few days since Violet’s surrender in his office. Since that heated night, they had made love a dozen times and each time she gave him a little more control over her body. She was a quick study and allowed him things he had forgotten he wanted over the months of desolation and isolation since Matilda’s death.

  “Did you come here with a purpose?” She laughed, and the sound touched him far more deeply than he wished it would. “Or just to stare at me?”

  He smiled despite his discomfort with how she continued to move him. “Staring at you is always a very good purpose in my mind, but that isn’t why I’m here this afternoon.”

  She pretended disappointment with a playful pout, and he longed to suck her distended lip between his and bite down. He knew exactly how that action would end.

  He shook his head. Somehow he had to find focus and put away this sexual animal which had been unleashed in him since her arrival.

  “Malcolm and Olivia are taking a walk around the estate,” he said. “I thought we might go with them. You could see something beyond the gardens.”

  She pushed to her feet and brought her hands together with a bright smile.

  “That would be wonderful,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to see more of this beautiful place. Although I’m not complaining about how my hours have been kept.” She gave him a saucy wink that went straight to his cock and then added, “Let me just fetch a wrap and I’ll be ready.”

  She moved to her wardrobe and took a thin wrap from within. He watched in fascination as she tied it around her shoulders. He was captivated by the way she moved, by the way she was so easy in her own body. If she ever worried about what or who she was, he didn’t see it. Despite what was obviously a painful past, she didn’t seem to be affected permanently by what she had been through.

  He envied her that, though he had hesitated to ask her more about it. They were going so deep already…

  “I’m ready now,” she said, motioning for him to lead them.

  She followed him from the room and down to where Mal and Olivia were standing in the foyer, heads close together in discussion. Liam frowned. He found his friend that way more and more in the last few days.

  “Mal tells me there is a pretty picnic spot by a lake,” Olivia said with a wide smile for the pair as they reached the foyer.

  Liam nodded. “Yes. The servants will arrange a late snack there for us, if that is agreeable to you both.”

  The women exchanged a glance, and Violet smiled. “I never turn down a snack.”

  “Especially if it is from your kitchen, my lord,” Olivia added as Mal opened the door and motioned them out.

  They began to walk down a long path that led them away from the house and the drive and through the rolling hills of the small estate. As they walked, Violet looked around, her eyes wide and her smile very real.

  “It is gorgeous,” she said after they’d gone a quarter of a mile. “Truly, Liam.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a sigh. “My father had many estates, but I must say this is one of my favorites.”

 
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Because of its proximity to Bath’s healing waters?”

  He looked at her. Was she finally asking him about his injuries? She had so avoided all that for so long, he was almost more willing to share what he normally withheld.

  “I don’t find the waters to be very helpful,” he admitted. “You must have noticed I haven’t returned to the baths since you found me there over a week ago.”

  She gave him a small, mischievous smile. “I thought you might have found yourself too busy to do so. I feel I have monopolized your time.”

  He laughed at her teasing. “Your company seemed to give me greater relief at any rate, so if you are monopolizing my time, it has its benefits beyond the obvious.”

  She looked at him more fully. “I’m glad, Liam. If I help at all, then I am very glad for that.”

  He shifted with discomfort at her focused words and stare. What did one say to it? What she offered was so temporary, it could change nothing. Even if it sometimes felt like it changed everything. That was an illusion brought on by physical pleasure.

  He returned his gaze to the path and frowned. Mal and Olivia were several paces ahead of them. Olivia had wound her hand with Mal’s and she rested her head on his shoulder as they walked.

  It was more than evident that their two friends had begun their own intensely physical relationship. Liam hadn’t thought much about it, really. It kept Mal and Olivia busy while he drowned himself in Violet. And his friend deserved his own pleasure, especially after putting up with Liam for so long.

  But as he watched Olivia and Malcolm stroll up the path, for the first time he realized just how deep their relationship had gone. His friend wasn’t one to show affection for a woman in such ways, not something sexual, but something that spoke of a deeper connection.

  He found himself glancing again at Violet. Violet who did not hold his arm, let alone his hand. Violet who was staring straight ahead, obviously seeing exactly the same thing he was but not saying a word about it. Violet who kept their relationship as surface and physical as he did, a few dark confessions aside.