Heartless (18 page)

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Ariel stared up at the faded blue velvet canopy above her four-poster bed. Outside the window, a storm had set in, obscuring the moon and stars. A fierce wind howled and lightning cracked in great yellow spikes against an ominous black sky. It was well past midnight, yet she couldn't fall asleep.

She kept thinking about Justin, about what had happened between them in his study. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the heat of his long, hard body, the hot, sweet sensations that speared like lightning through her blood. Just thinking about it made her tremble as she had in his arms.

The experience had been intoxicating, so heady she hadn't wanted it to end. Neither had Justin, she knew. In truth, she was amazed he had stopped when he did.
Why did he?
she wondered. But in her heart she knew.

For years he had been reading her letters. He knew her innermost thoughts and dreams, knew her better, perhaps, than anyone else in the world. He wanted to make love to her, but he knew that in doing so he would be crushing her dreams.

Ariel sighed. Justin pretended to be hard and uncaring. She no longer believed that was so. Working so closely with him, she was privy to the changes he was making in Cadamon—to increase profits, he had said. Undoubtedly a successful operation would be the end result, yet she found it hard to believe the lovely little four-room stone cottages he was constructing for the workers were being done strictly for money.

And there was the child, little Thomas Townsend, Justin's nephew. It was obvious the boy deeply loved his uncle, and the feeling was definitely returned. Justin was wildly protective of the boy. If he thought his sister would agree, Ariel believed Justin would keep the child there with him in London. But giving up her child would hardly be good for Barbara's reputation, and to the Countess of Haywood one's status among the
ton
was all-important. So the boy remained with his mother and Justin paid the bills, telling himself it was only a matter of financial practicality.

And there was the bargain Ariel had made. With the earl's generosity, she had received the education that she had so desperately wanted. Instead of collecting his debt, Justin had released her from her pledge and, if she had allowed it, would have continued seeing to her welfare.

“I don't know how well you've come to know him,”
Clayton Harcourt had said.
“Perhaps by now you realize he isn't the coldhearted man he appears.”

Justin wasn't the heartless villain she had first believed.

Just desperately, achingly lonely.

A gust of wind rattled the shutters outside the window, drawing her attention. Rain fell in great gray sheets against the rough stone walls of the mansion. Justin was out there in the storm because of her, because he couldn't trust what might happen if he stayed in the house. He was out there, and she was worried about him.

Worried about him and a great deal more. Ariel fought down a painful swell of emotion, for the first time allowing herself to admit the truth.

Dear God, I'm in love with him.

The previously unimaginable thought brought a thick lump to her throat. How had it happened?
When
had it happened? Was it a certain moment in time, a special minute, a certain day, or did it overtake her little by little, like sand beneath an encroaching surf? Perhaps it was the first time she had looked past the bland reserve in those cool gray eyes to the turbulent emotions they so neatly disguised. Perhaps it was the moment she had realized his harsh facade was only a cover for the loneliness and despair that had haunted him for so long.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Tears for Justin and the empty life he led. Tears for herself for loving a man who would never love her in return. How could she have allowed herself to fall in love with a man who didn't know the meaning of the word?

“Perhaps you could teach him.”

Harcourt's casual statement had haunted her since the moment he had said it. Was it possible for a man like Justin to learn to love?

And if it was, was she woman enough to teach him?

More important, did she have the courage to try?

She heard him just then, downstairs in the entry. A moment later, his weary footfalls started up the stairs. He rarely drank and she knew he wasn't drunk now. Just tired and wet and lonely.

On the morrow he would be leaving. She wasn't sure when he would return. For weeks she had avoided him. Now it suddenly seemed imperative that she see him—tonight, this very minute. Ariel's hands shook as she slid from the wide feather bed and drew on her quilted blue satin wrapper. She tugged her loosely plaited braid out from beneath the collar, letting it fall down her back, and started across the room, her heart thumping, her mouth suddenly dry.

Moving quietly, checking to be certain none of the servants were about, she opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. A silver lamp flickered on a table at the end of the passage, casting eerie shadows against the walls. She shivered from the chill in the drafty corridor and hurried toward the master suite, pausing for a moment when she reached it.

On the opposite side of the heavy wooden door she could hear him moving about. She took a breath for courage, grasped the silver knob before she lost her nerve, turned the handle, and stepped into the dimly lit room. Standing in the sitting room, she could see through the open door leading into his bedchamber. Firelight flickered in the hearth and an oil light burned on the marble-topped dresser. Justin stood in front of it, preparing himself for bed.

For an instant Ariel couldn't breathe. He had stripped away his tailcoat, waistcoat, and white lawn shirt. Wet black breeches clung to his narrow hips like a layer of paint, outlining long, hard-muscled legs encased in tall black boots. His hair was wet with rain and clinging to the nape of his neck, while a thick lock hung over his forehead. His chest was bare, wide and dark and covered with a fine thatch of curly black hair that arrowed past a flat stomach heavily ridged with muscle.

Unconsciously Ariel moistened her lips, her gaze still riveted on the beautiful maleness of his body. She didn't realize she was moving, silently walking toward him, until he looked up and saw her and went completely still. Concern replaced surprise, and those slashing black brows slammed nearly together.

“Ariel? What's happened? What's wrong?” He started toward her, reached her in three long strides, worriedly grasped her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

She moistened her trembling lips. “I had to come. I had to see you.”

“Ariel … love … tell me what's happened.”

“Everything is fine. I just … I don't want you to go.”

He said nothing for the longest time. “I don't understand.”

“In a way I don't, either. I only know I don't want you to leave on the morrow. I want you to stay here with me.”

His expression changed, hardened. A muscle leaped in his cheek. “You know why I'm going. Even you aren't that naive.”

She flushed a little but didn't look away. “I know why you're going. You're trying to keep your distance, trying to protect me. You don't want to hurt me.”

Turbulence rose in those incredible gray eyes; then it was gone. “I'm going because I lust for you. If I stay here, sooner or later, I'll take you.”

Would he? Not unless she wanted him to. She knew that about him now, knew that she could trust him.

“Do you want me that badly, Justin?”

His jaw tightened. Something hot and hungry moved over his features. “You know I do.”

“Then make love to me. Now. Tonight.”

For an instant the pupils of his eyes flared; then he slowly shook his head. “You don't know what you're saying.”

She reached toward him, rested a hand on his chest. “You're wrong, Justin. I know exactly what I'm saying.” And she did. For the first time since she'd stepped into the hall, she understood what had compelled her to come to his room, understood exactly the risk she was taking, knew that she'd had to take it. “When you canceled my debt, you gave me back my freedom. You allowed me to make my own choices, my own decisions. I'm choosing what both of us want.”

Justin stared at her as if she were another, different woman, his dark gaze troubled and intense. “You can't mean that. You've fought against this since the day we met.”

“I mean it more than I've ever meant anything in my life. Make love to me, Justin … please.” Long, disturbing seconds passed; then a shudder rippled the length of his body. His hands reached out, circling her waist, and he hauled her into his arms.

His chest was still damp with rain. She could feel his rapidly beating heart. His wet breeches soaked her robe, but Ariel didn't care. Sometime during the long hours of the evening, everything had become crystal clear. From this moment forward, she would do what her heart demanded, no matter the outcome, no matter the cost.

Justin's gaze moved over her face, studying each of her features, looking into her eyes as if he searched her soul. Then he lowered his head and kissed her, the fiercest, most achingly tender kiss she had ever known. A kiss that said all of the things she yearned to hear him say and probably never would. Ariel kissed him back with all the love she had just discovered, and dear God, it felt so right, so good. She pressed soft kisses against the side of his mouth, against his throat, against his bare shoulder. She felt him tremble.

Justin dragged in a shuddering breath and gently caught her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Ariel, are you certain?”

Very certain,
she thought.
I love you.
But she didn't say the words. He wouldn't know how to cope with those sorts of emotions—not yet. She had only just learned to accept them herself. “I'm sure, Justin.”

Sliding her arms around his neck, she tangled her fingers in his damp black hair and drew his mouth down to hers, kissing his hard mouth to softness, inhaling the musky, masculine scent of him. Justin kissed her deeply, erotically, as if he couldn't get enough, his warm breath flowing into hers, their lips moist and clinging. Ariel swayed against him, marveling at how perfectly their bodies fit together, enraptured by the solid, protective feel of his chest.

Then he was lifting her up, striding through the doorway back into his bedchamber, laying her down on the big tester bed and stripping away her satin wrapper. He tugged the ribbon at the neck of her cotton night rail, then drew it off over her head. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks, but she didn't try to cover herself. Not when she saw the glow of approval that gleamed like silver fire in his eyes. He pulled the ribbon that held her loosely plaited hair and raked his fingers through it, spreading it around her shoulders.

“You're beautiful,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Even lovelier than I imagined.” He traced a finger along her jaw, trailed it down her neck and over her shoulder, let it drift lower, over the peak of a nipple, and a soft warmth shimmered through her. Justin bent his head and kissed her, long and thoroughly, cupping a breast, teasing the end, making it ache and tingle.

He left her only long enough to blow out the lamp on the dresser and remove his wet breeches and boots; then he joined her on the bed, his body still moist and slightly chilled as he came up over her, his gray eyes dark and intense.

“I know I should send you away. If I wasn't such a heartless bastard, I would.” He brushed a strand of long blond hair back from her cheek. “But I won't let you go. I can't. I want you too damned badly.”

“Justin…” She reached up to him, cupped his hard jaw in the palm of her hand. There was something in his eyes. She looked past the hunger, glimpsed the aching need, the raw, pain-filled yearning; then his mouth crushed down over hers. His tongue swept in, stroking deeply, possessively; and hot, sweet fire spilled into her belly. The kiss went on and on, wet and hungry, long and seeking, a kiss that made her nipples stiff and her heart beat like a drum.

Outside, the storm continued to build, a tempest that matched the raging in her blood. Justin's mouth moved along her throat and down her shoulder; then he captured a nipple between his teeth. He sucked the fullness into his mouth, and lightning spread out through the tiny blue veins beneath her skin. Ariel moaned. She was trembling now, her breasts tingling beneath the skillful stroking of his tongue, aching almost painfully. His hand smoothed over her rib cage, past her navel, moving lower, sifting through the pale blond hair at the juncture of her legs.

Ariel tensed. She didn't know much about making love, only what Kitt had told her, and she wasn't sure exactly what to do.

“I won't hurt you, Ariel,” he said softly. “Do you believe that?”

She swallowed. Nodded. “Yes.…” She sighed as he kissed her again, let the warm sensations wash through her, and allowed her tense muscles to relax. A long dark finger probed gently between her legs, urging them to part for him, then slid deep inside her. A wave of heat washed over her, swelling like a tide. Justin began to stroke her, setting up a rhythm that matched the deep probing of his tongue and pleasure, sweet and fierce, tightened low in her belly. She caught her breath as he stroked her more deeply, gliding easily into the slippery dampness at her core.

Ariel shook with the onslaught of sensation that rolled over her, made a soft, whimpering sound in her throat.

Justin kissed her softly. “Your body is ready for me, Ariel. You're hot and wet, waiting for me to join with you.”

She moistened her lips, knew that they trembled. “What … What should I do?”

He gave her one of his rare, sweet smiles, and her heart nearly melted with love for him. “Just trust me. I'll take care of the rest.”

She smiled at him in return and caught the flash of tenderness in his eyes before he settled himself between her legs. She felt the hard, probing length of him as he carefully eased himself inside. Reaching her maidenhead, he paused. When he looked down at her, she saw a mixture of relief and something more, something so tender and sweet it made her heart turn over.