A Duke's Wicked Kiss (Entangled Select) (16 page)

She turned back to Ravenswood. “Your Grace.”

One hand slid from his pocket and extended toward her. “John,” he said huskily. “I think you can call me by my Christian name now, madam.”

The rich, entrancing timbre of his voice vibrated over her like a caress, set her flesh quivering. She stared at his hand. Unbidden images of those strong fingers stroking her intimately blurred with the sudden urge to press her mouth to his open palm, to taste the salt of his skin, to draw the texture into her mouth. And the way his sensuous mouth formed those few words nearly undid her, sent a heady, sweet longing pulsating through her. Good Lord. She caught herself before she swayed into him.

A point of light flashed against the gold of the signet ring on his little finger—a sharp reminder of his station. She steadied her knees.
Really, he toys with me by calling me madam in return? Well, I shan’t offer him the courtesy of using my name. Let’s see how he plays with that bit of news.
She tried to still her heart’s wild racing, but their tantalizing game only accelerated the urgent beat. “John, then. You sent for me?” Her voice sounded all wrong, as if it came from someplace outside her.

Those silver eyes of his darkened, reminding her of a storm-swept sea. His gaze drifted over the length of her once more, a veritable caress. His sultry mouth tipped at one corner again. “How lovely madam looks in her native dress.” His velvet-lined words rolled over her, tumbled through her mind, and fell straight into her heart.

She laughed softly. He liked the game. Her senses reeled as a vivid image swept through her mind. The two of them naked. Arms and legs entangled. Would he still be calling her madam when he lay within her? Fire heated her belly.
He has all the power tonight.
And she intended to let him use it.

Here she stood, staring into those mesmerizing eyes of his while her heart pounded, and the hot pulse down low in her belly had her entire body nearly trembling with anticipation. And they hadn’t yet left the entry!

He stepped forward, lifted the veil from her head and draped the fabric over her left shoulder. Gently, ever so gently, he placed his hand at the small of her back—in the same manner as had Tanush, yet John’s touch was so much hotter. Penetrating. Coursing up her spine and rippling beneath her skin, pulsing every nerve in her body. All her sensible resolve on the way here, and suddenly she was about as intelligent as a goose.

She glanced around and caught sight of fresh roses in a large vase set upon a low stand next to a golden statue, their pink buds not yet unfurled. “You’ve a lovely home.”

“Used to belong to a raj. Come, I’ll show you around.”

She caught his scent when he moved, clean Pears soap mixed with an undertone of bergamot—and him. She’d often remembered that scent over the years.
It’s happening.
He’s
happening.

“Each room empties onto a central courtyard,” he said, “while the outside perimeter of the house is flanked by yet another courtyard, followed by a high wall around the entire grounds.” He cast her a comfortable smile. “Safe as a turtle in its shell. A bit of paradise here.”

They stepped into the gardens and Suri saw that, indeed, the house was only one room deep in most places, and each room faced the lush courtyard. Shutters stood open to the night, low lamplight aglow in each room.
So warm and inviting—like him.

Across from her she caught sight of his bed chamber. A glint of silver in the lamplight, draped in mosquito netting, told her where his bed stood and that it was constructed of hammered silver, a very expensive bed, indeed. Her blood rushed wild in her veins.

But then an odd thought pinched her heart.
Was that where his child had been conceived? On that very bed?

“She was never here,” he said, as though he’d read her mind.

Suri jolted. Her cheeks heated. “Who?”

He stepped into the space her movement had created between them and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “My wife.” His words were soft, gentle. “We lived in my brother’s home, much larger than this. With both of them gone, I couldn’t stand the place any longer and leased this one. Brought in all new furnishings.”

She shrugged, feigning indifference. But when she opened her mouth to give a flippant, self-preserving comment, his fingers pressed against her lips, halting her before she could speak.

He bent closer. “No one’s been in that bed with me, darling.” And then his eyes sparkled. “Except maybe that she-cat over there.” A soft chuckle left his throat. “Large as she is, Shahira can manage to sneak into my bed more quietly than a mouse.” A familiar purring started up at the sound of the cheetah’s name. John grinned crookedly. “By morning she has most of the bed while I’m left with my legs dangling off the edge.”

Suri glanced at the center of the courtyard to a bubbling fountain. She tilted her head and caught a twitch of the cheetah’s tail. She laughed.

At the sound of her amusement Shahira rolled into view. Stretched out on her back like a kitten, her paws limp in the air, she stared at Suri with those fabulous golden eyes. Her purring increased, the rumble filling the courtyard.

“She’ll likely spend the night there,” Ravenswood said. “Finally caught a parrot this morning, right there.” He pointed to the fountain. “Poor bird was having a go at a bath when Shahira pounced. I doubt she’ll give up that particular spot anytime soon. Come, let me show you my office.”

Office? What do I care about your bloody office?
It was all she could do not to crane her neck and pine away at the sight of his sleeping chamber.

He led her into a paneled room on his right, resplendent with books marching along the walls, perfectly placed leather chairs in front of a large burl wood desk, a colorful globe on a brass stand in one corner, cut-glass bottles filled with liquor on a table. A typical duke’s office, wasn’t it? She fought a frown. She’d seen enough of her father’s office to last a lifetime. Yet, in here things were different, so fine and rich and carefully selected. Even the carpet seemed chosen to blend perfectly with chairs and books. And this room was spotless while her father’s office had held a stale stench of cigars and had always been in a state of disorder, emanating constant chaos. Here everything appeared orderly. Too tidy? But then, there was his desk. Papers were strewn about or stacked in piles with paperweights holding them down.

Nice to see there was
something
in disarray, even if it was only papers. Had he seen to the placement and selection of the furnishings himself? Throughout the entire house? Was his bed chamber this finely arranged? Of such fine quality?

He stood in silence, watching her. And then he swept a hand toward one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit, if you care to.” That low timbre of his voice fanned the fire in her belly again. His fingers trailed over the satiny wood of his desk. Is that how he would touch her? Those long, supple fingers caressed the lampshade next to him. Heat ran through her thighs, touched her intimate space, and tampered with her flesh.

Was that mischief streaking through his eyes? Of course, he knew what he was about, running his fingers feather-soft over everything—including her. Why, this tour of the house was his first stage of deliberate seduction. He knew she studied his every move, felt every vibration in his voice. Devilish, this one.

And she was going to let his slow seduction of her unfold his way entirely—in every sense of the word. A little thrill laid down tracks beneath her skin. Why not seduce him right back?

Because she didn’t know how.

Or did she?

Without a word, he looked to the chair.

She sat.

He came around in front of her like a cat on the prowl, settled his hips on his desk, and crossed his arms over his chest. Good Lord, she was eye level to…to…he was definitely aroused.

She tore her gaze from his endowments and looked up into his eyes.

And saw something quite unexpected that stunned her.

His eyes were steady. Cold. “How did you connect with Ravi Maurya way back in England?”

What?
Her heart fell into itself. Her head buzzed. She closed her eyes to think. Surely he can’t mean to—

“How did you connect with this particular man?” His words were shards of ice tossed in her face. “You had his help prior to arriving in Delhi. Tell me about it.”

She opened her eyes and stared at the floor, barely able to focus on the tips of John’s toes while she steadied herself. “Ravi…” She had to pause to clear her throat. “What goes on between Ravi Maurya and me is none of your concern.”

His hands were on her before she knew it, lifting her off the chair with a strength she hadn’t thought possible. He spread his legs apart, pulled her between them, and drew her so close his breath fell against her mouth. “Both of you are my concern.” And then the timbre of his voice changed, grew husky. “Each for different reasons.”

She was surrounded by him, his heat, the fierce power emanating from him. But good heavens, he hadn’t called her here to seduce her, but to interrogate her? What a dunce she was. What a complete, naïve idiot to have thought…

Her gaze held his while she unraveled.

And then anger rolled through her like a sudden storm.

She scrunched her shoulders to her ears, tried to shake his hands off her arms. “Release me. How dare you question my personal life.”

He shook his head. “Not going to work, Suri. You obviously give no serious regard to the trouble brewing in this country or to the danger in which you’ve placed yourself while in that cur’s company. I took you to be more intelligent.” He squeezed more tightly on her shoulders. “I know you two exchanged messages prior to your leaving England. How and who?”

The resonance of his voice soaked right through her skin and vibrated in her bones. She was so close she could make out the tiny striated black lines in his irises. He gave her shoulders a small shake.

Fire of a different kind lit her veins. He may as well have been shaking a rag doll for all the good it would do him. He didn’t know her so well after all, did he, or he wouldn’t be treating her in such a manner. She glared back at him.

But something more formidable than anything she could muster shot right through his countenance, through his hands and into her. In that instant, she was deep inside him—in his very core. And that center of him was hotter than molten lava.
Good Lord!

Maybe the dream of lying with him was dead, but she wouldn’t let him steal her other dream. Not when she was so close to meeting her grandmother. Her chin rose in defiance.

Suddenly his forceful energy shifted. Softened. Something he saw in her brazen countenance must have changed his mind. His fingers released her arms, and he planted his palms on the desk and leaned back. He studied her, his lashes veiling his thoughts.

Somewhere in the room a lazy clock ticked away the minutes. A bird called out. With every bit of discipline she had, she remained silent, unmoving, fighting the insane urge to lean into him and taste his skin, wallow in his scent.

He reached up to where the yellow silk covered her arm and, with the pads of his fingers, slowly traced a line over the sheer fabric. A trail of shivers danced along her skin and over her breasts, leaving them taut and wanting.

She thought her eyes might cross at the exquisite sensation. Down her arm his fingers traveled. Slow. Feather-soft. Along silk so sheer it was barely a kiss upon her skin. An act so simple, yet perhaps the most heavenly feeling she’d ever encountered.

Do that again.
Her eyes closed of their own volition. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. A fine line between pain and desire, this.

In the silence between them, slowly, gently, he stroked his fingers down her arm again, sending a thousand angels in flight. One hand slid behind her, caught her before she fell back. And then his mouth was on the curve of her neck, just below her ear. A fairy’s kiss.

Did she moan or was that him?

“You drive me wild,” he whispered in her ear, his words sending tremors quaking through her. “You unhinge me, Suri. You send me off someplace where I cannot manage to think straight.”

You can’t think straight? I am brainless.

“I don’t want you with Maurya.” His words were barely intelligible, but moist and warm against her skin.

Eyes closed, she shut out everything but the sensation of his mouth on her throat. She was there, in his white hot center, where she wanted to remain. “You’re jealous.”

“A bit.” He ran the tip of his tongue along the inside edge of her ear.

Oh, do that again.
“Is this a different tactic, since bullying got you nowhere?” Her words came more as air than sound.

A soft chuckle landed on her skin.

She struggled for breath. “You are the worst kind of man.”

He drew his teeth along the lobe of her ear.

She hissed. “Vexatious, that’s what you are. Manipulative.”

“Quite.” He licked her temple, blew on it, and nipped at the lobe again. “Is it working?”

“Indeed,” she whispered, barely able to collect herself. “It’s working magic.”

He lifted his face from her neck, slid his hands to her back. Slowly, he loosened the braid holding her hair from her face, flicked his fingers through her locks until a wild mass hung about her shoulders. “Beautiful.”

He set his hands to her face, tilted it, and studied her while she swam in the depths of his sultry gaze. His mouth brushed against hers, a whisper of a kiss that left her boneless. She leaned into him for support. His arms swept around her and she was enveloped—by his taste, his scent, the warmth of his skin.

She wanted more of him. So much more. “Your kisses are wicked, sir. So very, very wicked.”

“And you are lovely, my dear. So very, very lovely.”

His voice, a silken caress, shifted the rhythm of her heart. Then he lifted his mouth from hers and a ghost of a smile, one that suggested all kinds of sinfulness, touched his lips. Her hand scraped across his hard, flat stomach. Her breath hitched at the heat in his smooth skin. She gripped his hip to steady herself, sought his mouth, and mumbled into it as she tasted the sweetness, “Ravi won’t do anything like you’re about to. He’s my…”
cousin,
she’d nearly blurted
. “
Merely an acquaintance.”