Lori Brighton - [The Seduction 02] (21 page)

He lifted his hips and thrust forward again and again. The friction of his cock sent her body spiraling. Desire burned with pleasure and need, combining in a desperate storm. “Please, Gideon.”

She ran her hands down his sleek back, clawing at him like a kitten with a toy. This was different. There was something more in his movements, in the way he touched her gently and murmured sweet words that might tempt an innocent. The way he brushed his hands down her body as if attempting to soothe her.

“More,” she begged in a whimper.

He trembled in her arms as if he needed her as much as she needed him. Elizabeth felt as if she stood on the very sun. Gideon rocked against her, finding a rhythm as one. She never wanted it to stop. Never wanted him to leave her body, never wanted him to leave her. He could so easily break her heart, but at the moment it didn’t matter.

Her body tightened with each forceful stroke of his cock. Nothing mattered but Gideon. Frantically, she wrapped her legs more tightly around his, desperately and possessively clinging to him. A helpless vulnerability shimmered through her, but the need to find fulfillment overwhelmed any good sense.

He gripped her bottom and lifted her, at the same time driving into her. In that moment she no longer breathed. Couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. The entire bedchamber disappeared. Elizabeth’s
entire world exploded, brilliant white stars dancing behind her eyelids as pleasure rippled through her body.

Vaguely, she was aware of Gideon tightening. With a groan, he buried himself deeply, and the warmth of his seed spilled within. She was too content to be shocked. He slumped onto her, his body slick and heavy, his breathing harsh in her ear. Slowly, she became aware of him. The thunder of his heart against hers. The tickle of the crisp hair of his legs against her shins and thighs. The way his cock still throbbed inside her.

She closed her eyes, swallowing over the sudden lump of emotion that clogged her throat. When she’d imagined Gideon, she’d pictured a man in need. A man she could save. But he had saved her. The urge to wrap her arms around him and hold him close overwhelmed her. But she knew any show of compassion would only drive a man like him away.

He braced his elbows into the mattress on either side of her and rolled onto his back, pulling free of her body. She felt his absence as if he’d reached into her chest and torn out her heart, holding it aloft like a pirate’s treasure. For a long moment, neither of them moved, but merely lay on their backs, staring up at the cherubic fresco above. The clock on the mantel clicked the minutes by. One minute. Three. Five.

What in the bloody hell had just happened?

Elizabeth dared to glance at Gideon. His eyes were closed, his breathing even. As he lay upon his back with a muscled arm thrown over his head, he seemed almost asleep. She took the opportunity to study him. With his hair mussed and his face relaxed, he looked almost innocent…although he could never look boyish. Merely a mortal man with a heart, with a soul.

She had to resist the urge to scoot next to him. How she wished she could curl into his body and spend the night in his arms. She wanted this man. She wanted to share a bed and a life with him. She wanted to know what it was like to be truly married.

But it wasn’t to be…not yet. Gideon wasn’t ready, and if she offered her heart now, she would only frighten him away. Forcing herself to move, she slid from the bed, setting her bare feet upon the carpet. She didn’t dare look back to see if he truly slept, for if he was awake, he would read the emotion in her eyes and her indifferent ruse would be up. As quietly as possible, she pulled her shift over her head and scooped up the rest of her clothing.

“Where are you going?”

Gideon’s question caught her off guard. Elizabeth froze halfway to the door. Taking in a deep breath, she steeled her resolve. She could pretend that they had merely been intimate and it had meant nothing more. She could pretend that
he
meant nothing more. Forcing her lips upward, she faced him. Gideon watched her warily from the bed, his hands tucked underneath his head, the sheet at his hips.

“I thought…I thought you were done with me.” She flinched at her own words, flinched a second time when his curious gaze grew hard. She had the odd feeling she’d offended him. She prayed she had, for if the words had hurt him in some way, then it was proof there was hope for them after all.

“I merely…I wanted to check on the children, and I wasn’t sure you wanted me to stay…”

“Go.” His voice was soft.

He wasn’t angry, but she had a feeling he was disappointed. Her forced smile turned into something real. Elizabeth turned her head to hide the merriment and opened the door. He did feel. He did care. Yes, as much as she didn’t want to, leaving him now would be for the best. She quietly shut the door behind her. The hall was silent, the house still, but she swore she could still feel Gideon behind that wall. Feel him pulsing within her as if they’d become one.

She pressed her palm to the door, resisting the urge to return to him and knowing it was best to leave. “Be very, very careful, Gideon. We just may get our happily ever after.”

Gideon couldn’t sleep. Not even after arriving at Lady Lavender’s as a confused and anxious lad had slumber been elusive. But here, where Elizabeth’s scent clung to the sheets and her very presence seemed to fill the room, he couldn’t rest. Somehow the woman had crawled into his body, had sunk her claws into his chest and clung to his soul. Worst of all, she had made him care.

He raked his hands through his hair and paced the room. She’d made him care about her blasted children. Made him care about this estate. Worst of all, she’d made him care about her. Yes, he cared. He could at the very least admit the truth to himself. The problem was…did she care?

She’d practically flown from his bed last night, obviously eager to escape. And why would she want him for anything more than sex? He was a whore. Never before had he felt ashamed of what he did and he sure as hell wouldn’t now. His strides became longer, hurried. Aye, he was a whore, and he readily admitted and accepted it.

Restless, Gideon tore open his bedroom door and moved out into the hall, his bedchamber too small for his thoughts. He’d been waiting like a pathetic sop after he’d sent that summons and she’d appeared like some bloody angel come to bless his soul.

Gideon turned down yet another long hall, unsure of where he headed, as the house was a blasted maze. Breakfast was no doubt waiting below, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of eating, and more importantly seeing Elizabeth’s emotional gaze and the children’s innocent smiles. No, he couldn’t face her. Not when he wasn’t even sure what she wanted from him or who the hell he was anymore. She wanted a whore and a guard, that much was obvious. But did she want more?

He paused at a window overlooking the immense front lawn. Did he want more? It didn’t matter because Elizabeth was a lady and could have her pick of men. He didn’t belong in this world. He was a lost cause. Bracing hands on either side the pane, he closed his eyes. Last evening when he’d seen the flash of a gun…

Gideon swallowed hard. Elizabeth could have died. Shot dead in a field, her life gone within moments. Even now the thought sent pure rage through his body, leaving him chilled and trembling. His fingers tightened as he resisted the urge to smash his hand through that glass window.

And because he’d had to see her and make sure she was truly well, he’d placed that note in her room. And he’d waited…and waited like a starved mutt begging for scraps. And the moment she’d stepped inside, he knew he’d have her. But he hadn’t expected to spill his seed within her warmth. He pushed away from the wall and paced down the hall.

Never had he come so quickly and thoroughly in a woman. He prided himself on always holding back. But he’d lost any sense of control last night, hearing her sweet moans, touching her soft body and watching her come. Hell, Elizabeth could be with child now, and the thought made him ill. He wasn’t good enough for
her, and he sure as hell wasn’t good enough to be a father. The mere thought of having a child, a child he might ruin as his father had ruined him, sent panic clawing through his gut.

His footsteps quickened, as if he could outrun his demons. But as he entered a long and wide room, he wondered who he was angrier with, himself for losing his grasp on reality or Elizabeth for almost bringing him to his knees.

He was vaguely aware of the polished parquet floors, the marble columns that divided the long room, and the myriad of expensive paintings that covered the white walls. A portrait gallery. Some of the artists he recognized, some were unknown. But one thing stood out clear…money. Elizabeth had money. She deserved to marry a lord. Someone who would bring her respect and honor.

“Set it there.” The sound of the dowager’s voice brought a sour taste to his mouth and only added to his anger.

Gideon found the woman near the far wall, her back to him, poor Will standing next to her. His fingers curled as disgust burned a path through his body. He’d never physically harmed a female, but the urge to wrap his hands around her wrinkled neck was almost too much to bear. She wore a dull black gown that went well with the air of dreariness that hovered around her, much like the dark clouds hugging the hills outside. Gideon forced his hands to unclench, forced himself to release the breath of air he held.

Will shifted nervously. “But, my lady—”

“You will hang the portrait.” Her biting tone left no room for argument.

Curious despite himself, Gideon found the large portrait partially covered by a sheet and resting against the wall. Why, he wondered, was the painting so bloody important? There had to be a reason, for he knew people like the dowager did nothing without purpose.

“But my lady is quite fond of the landscape,” Will mumbled weakly.

“Do as I order.”

Will was no match for the woman. Elizabeth believed everyone had a soul, but the dowager was proof that some people were too far gone into the darkness. He knew the woman’s kind, so embroiled in her own self-pity that she had no compassion for others. He knew her well because she was a kindred spirit. They both shared the darkness. But he’d be damned if he’d let her hurt Elizabeth. He might be a bastard, but he protected what was his, and for the moment, a brief moment, Elizabeth belonged to him.

“Yes, Mum.” Will sighed in defeat. “I’ll just gather a couple footmen to help.” He scurried away, so eager to escape the witch that he hadn’t even noticed Gideon’s presence.

The old woman was alone, completely at his mercy. The dark voice inside urged him forward. His every nerve demanded retribution. Some people might think twice about murdering a woman, but he held no such qualms. Slowly, Gideon made his way toward her.

The dowager stiffened, hearing the fall of his footsteps, but she didn’t turn to look at him, merely folded her hands in front of her as if whoever approached was of no importance. God, it would be so easy to make her disappear. Bury her out back and none would be the wiser. A sweet temptation indeed.

Gideon paused next to her and studied the portrait. Half of it was covered with cloth, only the man’s torso visible. “You’re insisting on hanging a painting that Elizabeth doesn’t approve of? How very…commanding of you.”

“The portrait fits much better,” she muttered. “Not that it’s any of your business. Once Elizabeth is gone, this home will be completely remodeled.”

“Gone?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his feet, tormenting her with ease. Dare she admit her plans to murder Elizabeth? “And why would Mrs. Ashton leave when it’s her home?”

She released a huff of air, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening as she glared at him. “There is no great secret in the way of my thoughts. This home belongs to my son. Not that…” Her thin lips pressed into a tight line as she caught herself just in time.

His humor fled, the fun of baiting the woman gone. “Watch what you say.”

She lifted a gray brow. “Playing the hero?”

He shrugged. “I thought to try something new.”

The woman’s gaze narrowed. “You’re quite familiar with my daughter-in-law.” He knew she had the urge to question him further but wouldn’t lower herself. He could practically feel the hatred that burned from her being. He soaked in that darkness, welcomed it wholly, for he was utterly familiar with the feeling, and it fed his evil soul.

The shift of someone in the far corner of the room drew his attention. The dowager’s companion was seated on a settee watching them warily, her knitting upon her lap. So much for being alone. She was a sad caricature of a lady. A miserable, pale thing who blended so easily into the shadows that he hadn’t even noticed her.

“I assume you were sleeping with Elizabeth before my son died.”

Gideon refocused on the dowager. Even her companion gasped at the question. If she thought to shock him, she’d have to try harder. The corners of his lips lifted. “You’d assume incorrectly.”

“A whirlwind romance then?” Miss Howell replied from her corner, gaining a glare from the dowager.

“Indeed.”

“And you’re in love with her?” The dowager snorted inelegantly.

He should have laughed, at least responded. Instead, he found himself suddenly mute. Of course he wasn’t in love with her, so why couldn’t he bloody well seem to reply?

“You know my father was an earl,” the dowager added pleasantly. “My husband a baron. Our bloodline is incredibly blue.”

“How wonderful for you,” he muttered.

“But my father was terrible with money.” She turned, pacing toward the windows. “I had to sacrifice myself for my family. My husband was not a kind man. I’m not telling you this because I wish you to feel sorry for me. I’m telling this because I sold my soul to have the family I wanted and a home I could be proud of. I will not let you ruin what I have built. I will not hand my legacy over to someone who doesn’t deserve it. I will not see all that I worked for destroyed.”

“And what of your son’s children?
Your
grandchildren?”

“If they are his children, and I highly doubt it, then I will take care of them.” She turned to face him fully. Her eyes were cold, so very cold she barely looked human. More a demon sent to wreak havoc on earth. He wondered, for a brief moment, if he looked much the same way when he confronted an enemy. The thought that he had more than a few things in common with this woman made him ill at ease.