“Hush now, woman, I do not wish to speak.” And his whiskey-flavored breath stole over her mouth to part her lips with his tongue, until he’d entered and silenced her completely.
Lord Wellesley had poured the girl a second and third drink, just to loosen her up, but had stopped at a fourth, lest she be no fun at all. He’d put up with enough this evening to deserve something in return, bloody hell. Besides, he may not be a gentleman but he was also no cad.
He had given Charles Merrinan one glass too many, however, for she’d fallen asleep while still on his lap, despite all attempts to rouse her. He’d simply carried her to his bed then and crawled in beside her, none too sure she wouldn’t sneak off come morning just as soon as she was sober.
Yet where the devil would she run?he mused.London?Wells grinned at the thought. He could easily haul her back from whatever hovel her family inhabited here, for it would be simple enough to find a woman with her rare features in a village as small as this. He gazed at the mass of red-gold hair strewn across his pillow and longed to knot it in his fist, grasping the thick, smooth strands. She was quite the specimen, this Charles, with her strikingly symmetrical features and alabaster skin. She’d be a feast once he fattened her up, because he could count the poor girl’s ribs she was so slim. Still, laid out on his bed she was shaped like Venus, like a statue of the goddess—and a far cry from any other female he’d encountered here in Cumberland.
Before he drifted into slumber Wells decided Charles Merrinan would make a dull winter at Almsdale a damn sight more delightful. If nothing else, she’d keep his wits sharp for when he’d be forced to return to London, to suffer that godawful circus again.
Charles awoke to the sound of snores, only they were not her sister Eleanor’s breathy little snorts, nor were they her father’s disjointed honks. They were light and rhythmic, confusing the dream-like images that threatened to upend her: a fox, two chickens, a warm bath, bare skin . . .
She startled awake, stifling the urge to shriek as she discovered a robust, naked man beside her. Everything returned in a rush. She took precisely two seconds to steady herself as she felt his weight shift, tensing before she made to bolt.
An arm snaked out to check her. “Not so fast, Fox.”
She froze?—
“Can’t fly the coop now.”
—before she groaned at his terrible pun.
“I think I shall enjoy irritating you,” Lord Wellesley’s low voice chuckled.
“You do it well, my lord,” she grumbled back.
His hand began to stroke her flank, making her involuntarily quiver as she realized with fresh horror that she was naked too.
“It pleases me to get a rise out of you.” He pushed himself against her, something hard pressing into her backside, making her suck in her breath. “Literally and figuratively, my dear.”
Charles stilled, the pounding in her head the throb of her own frantic heartbeat. He pushed his body deeper against her own, his hand at her waist creeping up to fondle one breast while she remained paralyzed by his touch.
“Shall we continue what we started last night, Charles?”
She swallowed hard, desperate to dissuade him. “My lord, I beg you: By light of day now please reconsider my sentence.”
“I could not be more pleased with my sentencing, miss.” He planted his lips to the back of her neck, beginning to nibble flesh. “And have no intention of changing my mind, none.” He nipped skin with his teeth. “In fact, I am more than pleased. I am”—she gasped to feel his hand slide between her legs—“utterly delighted.”
Charles came alive, breathing short gulps of air as his fingers began to ply her most intimate parts in earnest. She didn’t know what to do. She was frozen by fear and more horrifying yet, the stirrings of growing arousal.
“Tell me you have touched yourself before, Charles,” he taunted as she inhaled another hiss of air. “That you know how to pleasure yourself.” His hand continued its maddening strokes while she grew only warmer and weaker, furious at how thoroughly her body betrayed her.
“Ah,” his tone teased, “I see you do, Fox. You welcome me already.” And he suddenly slipped a finger inside her, coaxing an involuntary gasp from her lips even as she reflexively arched her hips to accept him, his sex still hard at her backside, eager.
“I should like to see you enjoy yourself, I think.” He quickly rolled her onto her back, making her eyes flash up at him in panic. “Ladies first, my dear.” He slipped another finger inside, making her mouth fall open with surprise, his face grinning down at her before he fell to feasting on her breasts, all while his maddening, stroking touch made Charles feel as if she would burst. She hated herself for reacting as she did yet was wholly unable to stop her response.
“Please,” she begged. “My lord!”
“Please what?” His mouth left her bosom long enough to say.
“I . . .”
“You shall have to be more explicit than that to get what you want, girl.” His hand teased deeper as he lifted his head from her breasts, his eyes liquid with heat.
But she was beyond words, beyond all rational thought it seemed. Raw bodily instinct overwhelmed self-control as she rashly, shockingly pulled his head down to kiss him fast and fierce. Charles did not know herself in that moment, her mind having fled its normally sane self.
Lord Wellesley, tongue down her throat and hand at her core, merely pushed her over the edge in response, making Charles shatter exquisitely beneath him.
***
