Simply Voracious (15 page)

“I’m just trying to tell you that instinct will out. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but I’m damned glad to be alive.”

“But you had no choice. It’s not the same as wanting to . . .”

“To make love to someone? Yes, it is.” He held her gaze. “It’s just as basic an instinct. Sometimes I think that’s all we were put on this earth for. It is perfectly natural and acceptable to want to get messy and wet and uncivilized with another person. It can bring you great joy.”

“But it didn’t, so why do I still want to try it again?”

He smiled. “Because you liked what you saw? Because you liked the idea of me doing those things to you rather than this other man?”

Color rose in her cheeks. “But what if it isn’t any different from last time?”

“It will be different because I care about you.”

She swallowed hard. “He said that I was a disappointment, that I was a cold and unlovable woman and that it was all my own fault for luring him on.”

Paul fought to keep his voice even. If he ever met the bastard who had hurt Lucky he was going to rip off the man’s cock and feed it to his dogs.

“Shall we prove him wrong then?” He tugged on her hand until she sat on the edge of the divan and drew her into his arms. “Let me give you pleasure. Let me touch you.”

Before she could say another word, he kissed her and her arms came around his neck and held him tight. He could feel her whole body trembling, and he slowly stroked her until she sighed into his mouth and relaxed against him. He’d learned a lot about pleasuring women over the past year, and he intended to make sure that Lucky benefited from every bit of his experience. Perhaps that was what it had all been about, preparing him to help Lucky enjoy sex.

He shifted his hands, running them over her buttocks, hips, and the sides of her breasts. He kept up the slow, drugging kisses until she was kissing him back with a languid ease that made his body tighten. Eventually she turned willingly in his arms and he slid his hand between them to cup her breast. The bodice of her gown was a flimsy, shallow piece of silk that he could easily slide his thumb under. Her stays were another matter entirely.

He dragged his mouth away from hers. “Will you let me take off your gown and stays? I don’t want to ruin the silk.”

To his relief she nodded, and he worked quickly and efficiently to release her, laying the garments on one of the chairs. It occurred to him that after her past experience, this might even be easier for her than being fully clothed. He kissed her again until she moved sensuously against him, her body wanting more than perhaps her mind was prepared for.

He curved a hand over her hip and buttock and felt her quiver in response. He widened the caress, letting his thumb drift toward her mound, his mouth never leaving hers, his movements as unhurried as he could make them. She moaned and he slid his thumb lower, rubbing against her sex until he felt the swell of her bud beneath the pad of his thumb.

God, she was already wet and open. His cock kicked against his pantaloons and he was glad that he was at least partially clothed. The desire to slam his hard length into her welcoming softness was surprisingly strong. But wasn’t that what he’d just been telling her? The instinct to fuck was an incredibly powerful one.

He kept his thumb on her bud and worked the tip of his finger through the wetness and inside her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder and he went still.

“Let me take care of you, Lucky,” he whispered. “Let me inside. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He began to move his finger back and forth, deeper with every careful stroke until she was taking all of it. She gasped his name against his lips, and he increased his tempo, flicking and rubbing at her clit with each thrust. She started to tighten around him and he worked her even harder, let her hear the wetness of her desire and the smack of his fingers, the wildness of it.

“Please,” she whispered.

“It’s all right, I’ve got you. Let it go, love, take your pleasure.”

“I don’t know how. . . .”

He glanced down the length of her body to where his finger was embedded in her. “I’ll help you.” As he continued to finger-fuck her, he kissed his way down her throat, cupped her breast, and sucked hard on her already taut nipple. She gasped his name, but he didn’t stop there. He kissed his way down over her flat stomach and set his mouth where he’d wanted to put it, over her sex.

She settled her fingers into his hair, her nails into his scalp, and he didn’t care, as he used all his expertise, his mouth, and his fingers to make her climax. She gave in with a strangled scream that made her whole body arch off the divan. Paul smiled against her swollen flesh and gently brought her back down until she was lying pliantly beside him.

Eventually he rose up on one elbow and looked down at her. “Well?”

She returned his gaze, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes reflecting the new sensual knowledge that he had shared with her.

“It was still terrifying but also extraordinary.”

He brushed a curl away from her cheek. “I’m glad.”

“But I need to get to the Lakeland ball now.”

“Right now?” Paul frowned as she struggled to sit up.

“Yes.”

He got off the divan and waited while she righted herself. “Let me help you into your stays and gown. I can also call a maid to attend to your hair.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you. She can attend to me while you ready yourself.”

He paused in the act of picking up the rest of his clothes. It all seemed far too easy. “You still want me to come with you, then?”

“Of course!”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

She raised her chin and he was suddenly reminded of her father. “I still want to marry you, Paul. What could be clearer than that?”

12

P
aul fidgeted as his new valet arranged the intricate folds of his cravat and secured the arrangement with a diamond-headed pin. Paul squinted down to look at it.

“Where did that come from, Jordan? I don’t own any jewelry apart from my father’s signet ring.”

“It is a present from His Grace, sir.”

“You mean, from the duchess.”

“I believe she might’ve had a hand in the decision, sir, being as she is the main organizer of the wedding. But I’m loath to comment on my betters.”

Paul studied his ornate silver waistcoat in the long mirror that Jordan had insisted on installing in Paul’s new apartment in Haymore House. It was only two weeks since he and Lucky had visited the pleasure house together, and they hadn’t been alone since. To his surprise, the engagement had been announced formally the next day and preparations for the wedding had started immediately.

Not that he’d been consulted about anything. The ladies seemed to have that well in hand. His fingers strayed to his cravat, and his valet cleared his throat warningly. Paul dropped his hand and resisted the urge to complain that he felt as if he were being hung. Some part of him still felt like a condemned man, but he’d promised Lucky he’d do whatever she wanted, and he was determined to stick to that.

“Let me help you on with your coat now, sir,” Jordan murmured.

Paul let Jordan ease him into the tightly fitted black garment and again studied his reflection. After his well-worn uniform, it felt strange to be encased in such fashionable clothing. He looked quite unlike himself, his hair ruthlessly trimmed and his whiskers non-existent. His friends would hardly recognize him.

At that thought, Paul looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “When am I supposed to leave for the church?”

“You have another few minutes, sir,” Jordan replied as he brushed Paul’s coat. “I understand that Mr. Delornay and Captain David Grey are already waiting downstairs to accompany you.”

“They are already here?” Paul took his pocket watch from Jordan and a purse full of coin, and put them in his coat pocket. He’d asked Ambrose to stand up with him as well, but his old friend had refused, saying he’d be more comfortable and less conspicuous among the congregation. Despite his disappointment, Paul understood his need for privacy and didn’t press him.

He wondered how Lucky was, and whether her nerve would hold until they were safely married. On the rare social occasions when he’d been allowed to see her, she’d seemed a little brittle. She’d refused to change her mind about wanting to marry him as quickly as possible, so he had to be content with that.

“Don’t forget your hat and cloak, sir.” Absentmindedly, Paul accepted the garments and headed for the door. “And may I wish you all the best, sir? Lady Lucinda is a remarkable young woman.”

Paul paused at the door to smile at his valet, who had previously been employed as an assistant to the duke’s valet. “Yes, she is, isn’t she? I’m a very lucky man.”

Christian Delornay and Captain David Grey awaited him in the circular marble hallway below. Christian looked immaculate in a black coat and white pantaloons; David, far more comfortable in his naval uniform, his tricorn hat tucked under his elbow. For one terrible moment, Paul wondered if he would have gone through with it if Gabriel and Constantine had been down there in their place. But both men were lost to him now, and at last he had the opportunity to make something out of his worthless life.

Paul managed to smile. “Good morning, my friends. Shall we be off?”

“If you are ready, Paul, and if you are quite sure that you are doing the right thing,” said Christian.

Paul grimaced. “It’s a little bit late for that, isn’t it? I’ve made my choices, and I’ll abide by them.”

Christian opened the door of the ducal carriage and Paul went by him. “I’m not worried about you. I’m concerned about Lady Lucinda.”

“I’m concerned about her too! Why else do you think I’m doing this?” Paul sat down opposite David and struggled to collect himself. “She wants this, and for the first time in my life, I’m trying not to be selfish and to do what is right.”

Christian opened his mouth again, but David put his hand on his knee. “Paul is correct. This isn’t the time to go into that now, Christian. They have both made a decision and, whether we agree with it or not, we are here to support our friend.”

Paul met the other man’s calm gaze. “Thank you, David. I appreciate you being here.”

“And I apologize.” Christian stirred in his seat. “I can’t say that you haven’t shown your prospective wife exactly what she is getting into by marrying you.”

“Damning me with faint praise, eh? I’ll take it,” Paul replied. “I hope, after all this, that she’ll turn up.”

David laughed. “I can’t see her mother allowing her to do anything else. That woman is magnificent.”

Paul found himself smiling. “You’d be surprised. Lucky is her match in many ways.”

“So I’ve heard.” David glanced out of the window. “Oh, we’re here. Are you ready?”

Paul swallowed hard and stared at the closed doors of Saint George’s Church. It was still early, and he could bolt if he wanted. Instead, he followed David and Christian out into the gloomy gray mist and through the side door into the sacristy where the pastor, and his fate, awaited him.

“Oh, my dear, you look absolutely beautiful.”

Lucky turned to see her mother dabbing at her eyes.

“Thank you, Mama. I feel quite beautiful too.”

Her wedding dress was made of soft lilac silk over an underskirt of gray with silver lace trimmings. It made her eyes look very blue. She felt rather like a dressed-up doll from one of the fashion plates, but that was better than feeling sick and worrying herself half to death that Jeremy was going to turn up and ruin her wedding.

Her wedding . . . and she was marrying her best friend, Paul, just as she had planned all those years ago. Paul, who had male lovers and frequented a pleasure house where anything could happen. At least she would be safe and loved. Surely that was better than she could have expected after her fall from grace?

“Don’t forget your bonnet and flowers, my dear.”

Her mother handed her a small posy of violets and pansies framed with greenery, and her fan. Lucky took them with a quiet thank you and managed to smile at a weeping Milly. Milly had reported that Paul had already left for the church with some of his supporters, so Lucky had nothing to worry about.

Unless he had escaped to the coast....

Lucky shrugged off that awful thought and walked down the stairs with her mother at her side.

“Marcus, doesn’t our daughter look lovely?”

She studied her father, and for once he appeared to be at a loss for words. He simply opened his arms and she flew into them. A sense of certainty enveloped her. Whatever happened between her and Paul, at least she knew she had protected her parents.

“She looks as beautiful as you did on our wedding day,” her father said gruffly. “I hope Paul realizes what a lucky man he is.”

Lucky rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’m sure he does, Papa. Now we must see Mama on her way to the church and be ready to leave ourselves.”

She was amazed at the calmness that surrounded her. For the first time in her life, she felt more in control of her destiny than either of her parents were. In theory, she was simply exchanging her father’s rule for Paul’s, but she would have far more freedom as a married woman than as a young debutante. And after much careful thought, she intended to use that freedom to benefit both her
and
Paul.

The ride to the church passed in a blur, and the next thing she knew, she was being fussed over again by her mother and Emily. From her restricted view at the back of the church, she could just make out the small group of guests in the pews and at least one man at the front. It was cold inside the stone confines of the church, and she found herself shivering. Her father patted her arm, and, after a deep breath, she paced down the aisle at his side, his large hand covering her gloved one.

As they reached the front of the church, Paul stepped up and occupied the space on her other side. She dared to glance up at him and discovered he looked remarkably serious and rather pale. She suspected she must look the same, because he smiled at her encouragingly and suddenly everything was all right again. He was still her best friend and nothing would ever change that.