Invitation to Ruin (18 page)

Briefly she wondered what it would be like when he truly took her, when it was more than his fingers deep inside her.

She lay boneless, watching him feast on the sight of her naked body. His gaze was hot and erotic. His eyes glinted like burning coals, and she could still feel his thick erection pressing against her leg.

She reached for him to see to his needs. She knew what she could do to satisfy his aching hunger, but he said, “Not now,” and pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply.

   Anthony took a dark pleasure in ravaging her mouth, taking from her that which he could not take from her more explicitly.

Ever.

He stifled a groan, his body’s protest at denying his own needs. He gripped her hips and held her to him, stealing a moment to glory in her suppleness, in the evidence of how well she would fit him. He took in the womanly warmth that ultimately he would never be able to claim.

This was his punishment, his torment. To be madly in lust over a woman he could never have. A woman who didn’t want him to stop—she’d be quite happy if he drew her back down, kissed her swollen ruby lips, and sunk deep between her thighs.

It took serious willpower to release her luscious mouth and deny himself. God give him strength.

Her lashes fluttered down, and she sighed. “Would you like me to pleasure you?”

His gaze fixed once more on one tightly budded nipple; it was an effort to draw enough breath to answer. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I fear we have run out of time.”

He gathered his wits and rose, pulling her upright and letting her skirts fall to cover her long slender limbs. He tweaked her chemise back up and, with a resigned sigh of unfulfilled longing, helped her set her bodice to rights. But when he reached for her waist and gripped, intending to turn her toward the house, she stayed him, sliding one hand past his jaw, curling her fingers into his hair.

She looked up into his eyes, studied them, her gaze direct, and then she smiled like the cat who’d drunk the cream. “Suddenly I am looking forward to our marriage.”

She pulled his head down to meet her passion-raked lips. She kissed him long, lingering, and sweetly. She lifted her head and whispered against his lips, “Until our wedding night … I’m looking forward to all the Lord of Wicked can teach me.”

   Anthony had refused to take his own pleasure. It seemed strange that the Lord of Wicked declined an opportunity to indulge in his favorite pastime. She couldn’t have been more obvious in her desires than if she’d written him a formal invitation.

His control had been admirable. But she didn’t want him controlled. She wanted him wild, desperate for her. Only then could she perhaps hope to tame and capture his heart.

Conceivably he was being gentlemanly, not wanting to overwhelm her all at once. Yes that was it, Melissa concluded. Gentlemen of the
ton
believed their wives did not covet sexual intimacy. She would have to reassure him on that point. Perhaps even show him her book. She’d like his advice on some of the positions. She’d been puzzled by the physicality of some. Even with pictures, she couldn’t work out how the man and the woman fitted together without breaking something.

Melissa reassessed her fiancé’s character. He was obviously more of a gentleman than most of Society thought. His control this afternoon was admirable. Perhaps the Lord of Wicked was not as wicked as she’d thought.

That might be a problem. How could she win his heart if he kept such a tight rein on his passion? She would have to ensure that once she became his Countess, he would not be able to resist her. Cassandra often told her men took mistresses because they had funny notions about carnal relations with their wives. They didn’t feel comfortable asking their wives to act the whore in the bedroom, even if the wife was happy to oblige.

Melissa’s body shivered in impatient contemplation at the prospect of being in his bed when he unleashed all that pent-up control. She patted her flat stomach. What’s more, the idea of children thrilled her. She couldn’t wait to hold their child in her arms.

The one person who would always offer her unconditional love.

Richard had been right. Anthony’s response to her proved the way to his heart lay in pleasing his sexual appetites.

Armed with the courtesan knowledge gained from Cassandra’s borrowed book, Melissa was confident she was up for the challenge.

T
he following morning, it startled Melissa when Anthony arrived early at the house and joined her in the breakfast room. Her teaspoon clattered against the side of her teacup as she drunk in the sight of him. Her eyes feasted on his sensual lips, and her face heated, remembering the way he’d made her respond with his kisses and magical fingers.

She smiled on the inside, realizing she’d soon have the pleasure of his company every morning. He would be sitting across from her having breakfast. The vision of him would certainly aid her appetite—but not for food. This morning, his dark beauty was enough to make her forget she was supposed to be a lady.

Her heart rate sped up another notch noting the newfound companionship between them, evident in his amiable greeting. While she watched enraptured by the ripple of muscle beneath his tight-fitting breeches, Anthony filled a plate from the sideboard, accepted coffee from one of Cassandra’s footmen, and then took the chair beside her. The deep blue of his jacket made his gray eyes look almost violet. She felt her body stir with want.

“Good morning, my sweet,” he uttered with a grin.

She wished she’d taken more care getting dressed. She knew she was not looking her best. She’d tossed and turned all night, reliving the magic of his touch in the garden of Craven House yesterday.

What was he doing here this early? Had he stayed the night? If so he had not come to her bed. She froze. Cassandra. She shook her head. No, he wouldn’t. He’d promised. Her hands fisted on the knife she was holding.
He could have lied; you hardly know this man
.

Forcing those foolish thoughts away, Melissa made herself take a mouthful of egg and swallow before addressing him. “Good morning—Anthony. This is a pleasant surprise. You are up early.”

The servants returned to refill the platters on the large mahogany sideboard, for when Christopher and Cassandra joined them. Silence reigned until the servants completed their tasks and left.

Anthony was attacking his breakfast with gusto. It wasn’t until his plate was clean that he answered her.

“I often ride early in the morning. Dark Knight likes a good gallop, and any later in the day the park is too full to really let him have his head. Besides, I wanted to try and catch you before you were engaged for the day.”

Her pulse picked up its pace. “Oh. I do have rather a full schedule, with the wedding tomorrow. The final fitting for my dress, organizing my move to Craven House …”

“Quite.” She felt his light gaze examining her face. “Are you nervous?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “As much as most brides I would suspect.”

“It’s to be expected considering we barely know one another. In that vein, I was wondering if I might have the honor of escorting you to the theater tonight. Do you enjoy Shakespeare?”

Melissa swallowed her excitement. It wouldn’t do to turn into one of his fawning admirers so quickly. He was reputed to thrive on a challenge.

“I love his work and would enjoy accompanying you.” He did not need to know that she’d planned an evening of pampering so as to arrive for her wedding fresh, utterly appealing, and ready for a long night of pleasure with the Lord of
Wicked. Yet, she’d readily give that up to spend more time in his company.

This was the first occasion he’d ever sought her out, and she was conscious of a rush of warmth swamping her. He wanted to spend time with her.

“Good. It will help quiet the scandal for us to be seen together and pretend to enjoy each other’s company before we wed.”

Pretend? At his words, her rush of happiness began to fade. “Yes … I suppose that would help.”

He rose then and took her hand. He raised it to his lips. “Until this evening.”

Melissa shivered, feeling the tingle of his mouth all the way down her arms to her loins.

She stared after Anthony long after he was gone. Finally she felt her breath return to normal. He hadn’t really wanted to see her. He was merely obliging the niceties of the
ton
. She yearned for a time when for once, someone would visit or call on her with the sole purpose of wanting—no—needing her company. She wondered what that would feel like.

She prayed one day Anthony would ask to be with her purely for pleasure. Solely because he wanted to, not because he felt obligated to.

Melissa shook her head, desperately fighting the emotions he unleashed in her. Anthony woke in her a hungry longing. A longing to matter. A longing to be wanted. She feared the power he held over her.

She threw her napkin on the table and rose. She had a lot to do today, since tonight would be busy. She’d have to call on Sarah earlier than expected. Sarah needed her advice regarding their plan to disrupt a slave auction next month.

She hoped Anthony would not oppose her attendance. Given his distaste for slave trading, she prayed he would be considerate of her need to help bring down slavery in her own way. As women they lacked the power to openly change policies, but they found creating nuisances drew the attention of those that could—fathers, husbands, brothers, lovers …

The Ladies Freedom Charity meant the world to her. When she’d had no one, when she’d felt lost and alone, her work for the charity helped her realize there were souls worse off than her. There were far worse things in this world than being the unwanted sister of a destitute baron.

It felt good to know somebody, somewhere, needed her. She had purpose. She was important to the world in her small way. She felt sadness at the fact that many of the slaves she helped, those she was most important to, would never meet her.

Those around her, those closest to her, found little use for her at all.

   As they entered the Wickham box at the Globe Theatre, all eyes turned to view Lord Wickham and his future Countess. She straightened her back and stood up tall, smiling to hide how nervous she truly was.

Her excitement at attending the theater was heightened by the man at her side. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. He should be on the stage. His performance as a man besotted with his fiancée had the audience riveted, with eyes straining on their box.

The effect on her was like the hot summer winds, profoundly appealing and unquestionably dangerous, filling her lungs with hot, smothering air. She couldn’t lose her heart to him just yet. Not until she’d had a chance to ensnare his affections. A lovesick, clingy wife was certain to ensure he did not come near her.

Melissa did her best to battle the whirlwind of emotions and maintain a cool demeanor. From the stares pointed their way, she knew they made an appealing couple. She’d taken extra care in her appearance tonight. She wore her hair piled high on her head with tiny ringlets softening her face, while her gold slip with its overskirt of rich copper was daringly cut, displaying her wares to their best advantage. She could tell by the sudden darkening of Anthony’s silver-gray eyes that he greatly admired the effect. She was smugly pleased.

Anthony’s performance for the
ton
rivaled those of the actors onstage. From the moment he was settled beside her, he played his role to the hilt, taking her hand and bringing her fingers to his lips, all the while gazing deeply into her eyes. The delighted audience was totally convinced the pair was in love. Even though there was no real sentiment behind the gesture, the sheer intimacy of the act made her body pitch and roll as if sailing the high seas. She found it difficult to keep her seat.

Her heart was going to be extremely difficult to protect if he continued to wield the power of his sensuality. She would be wise to speed up her own strategy of seduction.

They were barely seated when visitors started arriving at their box, no doubt wanting to gaze upon the woman who’d managed to trap his lordship into matrimony.

If she hadn’t already been infatuated with Anthony, she was completely under his spell now. His pretend display of the lovelorn rake had her beginning to believe in a love match. Even before the play commenced, the audience seemed to be there for one performance only—Anthony’s.

His continued closeness had Melissa’s blood racing. She could feel his body heat, and she watched mesmerized as his smile dazzled all and sundry in the theater while his gaze raked her from head to toe, staking his claim. Like everyone else, she entered make-believe land, and for once became the cherished and desired fairy princess of her youthful dreams.

Once the play began, she still couldn’t relax. Even with her body strung tight as a bow, Melissa found the onstage performance riveting. As the curtain fell for the first intermission, she gave a sigh of delight.

She clasped one of Anthony’s hands between hers. “Thank you for bringing me here, Anthony,” she said sincerely. “I know it’s really for the benefit of the gossips, but I have never enjoyed myself so much.”

He bowed gallantly. “I take it you have not been to the theater much?”

She felt her face flush. “I have never been. This is my first
Season in London, and Christopher would not waste money on the theater—or on me.”

“Another first for me.” Anthony teased softly. “The pleasure of introducing you to your first play.” He continued to hold her hand. “As my wife you can visit the theater whenever you wish.”

Before she could stop herself, she asked, “With you?”

The smile faded from his face. “I’ve seen almost all the plays there are to be seen. But do not let me spoil your enjoyment of attending with friends.” Like the curtain onstage, his fringe swung forward and veiled his eyes. Melissa could have bitten off her tongue. She’d sounded far too eager.

She was relieved when a visitor appeared in their box. Lord Strathmore, Anthony’s friend, joined them with, of all people, Cassandra, and her brother, Christopher.