Taken by the Earl (Regency Unlaced 3) (3 page)

But he had not yet bared his goal, those juicy nipples he could see pressing against the silk material of her gown. He wanted them in his mouth. To suckle. To bite. To draw on until they resembled ripe red berries. Tiny strawberries, perhaps, if he sucked on them long and hard enough. Her skin was so smooth and tasted of cream, and he now had a craving for the ripe strawberries to go with it.

“Is this not why you are here?” He slipped the bodice of her gown lower still before pushing down her camisole to reveal one enticingly bared nipple. Rosy red, as he had suspected it might be, and plump as a ripened raspberry.

“No, of course it—
My lord
,” she groaned as Sin’s lips closed fully over that pouting nipple and he suckled it greedily into the heat of his mouth.

She tasted as delicious as he had suspected she might, the aroma of the arousal wetting between her thighs, preparing her for his invasion, acting as a further aphrodisiac to Sin’s already inflamed senses.

There was no denying she liked it too, as she moaned softly each time he suckled or bit her nipple, her hands tightly gripping his shoulders. She arched her back and pressed her nipple deeper into his mouth. Sin was only too happy to oblige. He suckled harder and longer while he rasped his tongue over that swollen nubbin, then bit down to cause just enough pain to enhance the pleasure he could feel quivering through her body.

Dear God, was she going to come merely from having him suckle her breasts?

The thought of that was so arousing that Sin pulled down the other side of her gown before transferring his mouth to that second bared nipple. His fingers and thumb moved to take over the pleasuring of its twin as they tweaked and squeezed in the same rhythm as he suckled hungrily.

Her trembling increased, the aroma of her musk growing stronger. Only a little more pressure. A little more pleasure, and she would—

“Oh!” She gasped. “Oh, my lord. My— Oh…” Her lids fluttered closed as she turned to liquid heat in his arms, her nipple swelling, becoming harder in his mouth, as the waves of her release pulsed and now shook through the whole of her body.

Sin continued to suck and bite, pinch and pull on her nipples, until he was satisfied he had given and taken every last pulsing quake of her pleasure.

Fliss’s neck refused to support her head as it fell forward, and she rested her forehead against the hardness of Sinclair Montgomery’s chest.
 

She was embarrassed.

Ashamed.

Mortified.

Satiated in a way I have never felt before.

Stephen had been a kind and considerate husband and had obviously had an affection for her, as she had an affection for him. They had muddled along well enough together, although perhaps more as friends than lovers. They had never spoken on the subject, but it was obvious Stephen had thought it unseemly to make too many demands upon Fliss in the bedchamber.

When Stephen was home, he would visit her bedchamber once a week, kissing her gently on the brow as he pushed her nightgown up to her waist to lie between her thighs and ease his member slowly inside, before quickly taking his release, usually with no more than half a dozen thrusts. Afterward, he would disengage just as gently before climbing out of bed to wet a cloth in the bowl of water on the dressing table. His gaze would not quite meet hers as he handed her that cloth and left to return to his adjoining bedchamber.

Never in any of their encounters had Stephen touched her breasts in the intimate manner Sinclair Montgomery had just now, as he sucked on and squeezed and pinched her nipples.

Fliss had never dreamed… Never known such pleasure existed…

That was not true, and she would be lying to herself if she even allowed such a thought. She might never have experienced physical pleasure for herself, or even come close, but these past few months of seeing two of her three closest friends either marry or become betrothed to gentlemen who loved them deeply had substantially changed that opinion.

One of those friends had recently married the austere Duke of Blackmoor. Except he was not in the least austere when in Thea’s company, and the way the two of them looked at each other, could not stop touching each other, was indicative of the depth of their love for each other and the pleasure of their intimacy.

Fliss’s other friend, Sally Derwent, had only recently become betrothed to the Marquis of Oxbridge, but anyone with eyes in their head could see those two had and continued to enjoy each other in every way.

Her third friend, Rachel, also a widow, had taken to walking about with a secretive cat-that-had-lapped-the-cream smile on her face, and Fliss had long suspected it was a secret lover who had put it there. Considering how unhappy Rachel’s marriage had been, Fliss wished her friend well.

But inwardly, Fliss knew, she had become envious of the reason for her friends’ glowing eyes and secret smiles. An envy she barely acknowledged to herself and had certainly never confided to any of her friends.

Partly because she had always been the quiet voice of reason in the quartet, and widowhood had only intensified that air of matronly respectability. But also, she now acknowledged, because until this moment, she’d really had no idea what she had been missing out on all these years.

An only child of strict parents, Fliss had always been aware of an inner aloneness that had been alleviated only slightly when she had her first Season and became such close friends with Thea, Sally, and Rachel. Her marriage to Stephen had been arranged by her parents, and it was more that of polite friendship than lovers. Luckily, Fliss had retained Thea’s, Sally’s, and Rachel’s friendships during that marriage, and they had all rallied round when Stephen was killed.

She was pleased that two of those friends had found happiness in the past few months, and that Rachel was also occupied with her secret lover. At the same time, Fliss admitted those things had brought back a return of her own loneliness until at times she had felt as if she could have screamed with the longing, the need, to have a man love her as Thea and Sally were so obviously loved. That whether or not Rachel loved her lover or he her was unimportant, when the relationship gave her such a glow of happiness.

Fliss had ached to know that intimacy for herself.

As she had ached for a pair of strong arms to hold her.

The arms holding her now were incredibly strong, supporting her weight as if she were as light as thistledown rather than slightly plump.

“My turn,” the earl murmured throatily.

Fliss’s forehead still resting against his chest gave her an unrestricted view as the earl unfastened the buttons on his fitted evening trousers with ease. The flap tumbled forward and revealed he wore no undergarments as his rampant cock surged free.

Her mouth went dry as she stared down at him. She had never seen Stephen’s member, all their sexual encounters having taken place in her darkened bedchamber, but she had always believed him to be a reasonably endowed gentleman.

The cock now revealed to her showed her she had been completely wrong in that belief.

At least nine inches in length and almost as thick around as her wrist, there were thick veins clearly defined along its length, the bulbous head slick with the juices leaking from the slitted tip.

Sinclair Montgomery’s member was in perfect proportion to the rest of his impressively large body.

Surely such a fierce-looking thing could never fit inside me—

Of course it will not fit inside me, because it is never going to
be
inside me.

“My lord.” Fliss dragged her gaze away from staring at that fiercely engorged cock. She raised her head with as much dignity as she could muster in the circumstances.

Those circumstances being that they were both of them half-naked and moments ago, she had come completely undone in this gentleman’s arms, losing herself in the first physical pleasure she had ever known. Between her thighs was still damp and throbbing from that exquisite release.

And whilst the earl might have every reason to expect a return of that pleasure, Fliss knew she did not have the experience to give it to him.

Nor was this the time for her to learn.

She raised her gaze to the height of one broad shoulder as she spoke. “My lord, I have had reason to call at Winterbourne House several times during these past weeks in the hope of speaking with you.”

“You have?” He sounded cautious.

She nodded. “The first day I called, you were out to lunch with your cousin, I believe?”

“He has recently returned from his honeymoon.”

“The next time I called, your butler informed me you had left London.”
 

“I was away at one of my estates.”

“I am well aware of that,” she acknowledged.

“Did you follow me here?” Sin had tensed warily. To his certain knowledge, he did not know this lady, had never seen her before today. He would have remembered her if he had.

The fact that she had gone to such lengths to see him, those visits to Winterbourne House, her presence at Eckles Manor, waiting for him in his bedchamber, was disturbing to say the least.

A ploy to somehow trick him into matrimony?

Or something more sinister?
 

“Why?” he demanded coolly.

Her chin rose determined. “The reason I tried to see you in London, the only reason I came to Eckles Manor and now waited for you in your bedchamber is so that I might warn you of a plot to kill you during your stay here.”

Chapter 4

Sin stepped back to turn away and refasten his pantaloons as he considered this woman’s preposterous claim.

Apart from a couple of lunches with his cousin Ranulf and his new wife, he had attended less than a handful of social engagements during the week or so he spent in London. Deliberately so, having delayed his arrival there to coincide with the end of the Season and so enabling him to keep social engagements to a minimum. At none of those social events had he conversed with nor spent time enough with any one person to have incited murderous feelings toward him. At least he did not believe he had.

“Allow me.” Sin stepped behind the tiny dark-haired woman. He could see she was struggling to hold her gown in front of her in a belated attempt to protect her modesty as she tried to refasten the buttons at its back. Buttons he had minutes ago undone without thought or conscience.

There would be no more lovemaking tonight. Indeed, the sooner this lady explained herself fully, the better.

She had already revealed that her pursuit of him had been nothing short of determined, and her reason for having done so did not ring true. Despite what he had heard—and seen—of the behavior at Eckles Manor, there might still be an outraged male relative of this lady outside in the hallway, ready to burst into his bedchamber at any moment and demand marriage or satisfaction.
 

“Did you come here alone?”

She gave him a wary glance over her shoulder. “You saw I did when I arrived.”

He nodded. “But that does not mean your father or brother are not already here, ready to challenge me to a duel in the morning if I do not marry you.”

“Do not be ridiculous.” She stepped briskly away from him now that her gown was refastened, but her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes overbright. “I assure you, I am completely alone, apart from my maid. And anyone who accepts Lady Eckles’s hospitality knows exactly what they are agreeing to,” she added scornfully.

“Including you?”

“I have already told you the only reason I am here is to warn you your life is in danger.”

“Without giving me a single reason as to why I should believe or trust your story is true,” Sin pointed out coldly. “I do not even know your name.”

She sighed. “I am Mrs. Felicity Randall—”

“Missus?” Sin echoed sharply. Lord, the situation was even worse than he had thought if he had made love to a married lady. A married lady who had apparently arrived without her husband, but that did not mean the gentleman was not already here and ready to shoot him for his trespass.

“I am a widow,” she dismissed briskly.

“Ah.” Looking at her closely, Sin could see she was even younger than he had realized, possibly ten years or so younger than his own five and thirty. But he was fully aware the wars against Napoleon had made widows of women even younger than this one. “I am very sorry for your loss.” He nodded. “But now I believe you should return to your own bedchamber—”

“Did you hear what I said to you a few moments ago?” Those beautiful gray eyes narrowed with irritation.

Sin felt another pang of regret. They really were very lovely gray eyes, as she was a very beautiful and responsive woman. But her behavior in following him so resolutely could not be overlooked, and her claim she had done so because someone wished to kill him was beyond belief.

“Someone,” she spoke slowly and carefully, “is going to try to kill you during your stay here. Did you hear what I said?” Irritation returned to her tone as Sin continued to frown at her.

“Well, of course I heard you,” Sin drawled. “I was simply suggesting that perhaps a good night’s sleep, in your own bedchamber,” he added firmly, “might be the best thing right now. You are no doubt fatigued from your journey.”