To Sin With A Scoundrel (28 page)

The scratch of the pen seemed unnaturally loud in the scholarly silence of the laboratory. Lucas finished writing out his
last answer and glanced up. Ciara was standing across the room, her back to him as she carefully measured out portions of
powder from the array of jars above her gas burner.

To his surprise, the test had been easy. The answers had flowed smoothly, like a nightingale’s song, from his head. Strange
how much interesting information could be stored in his brainbox when it wasn’t overflowing with brandy.

And the truth was, he found the subject quite fascinating. As a boy, he had spent countless hours in solitary rambles along
the seaside cliffs near Henry’s country estate. Observing all the different birds had been a source of constant wonder. But
now, as he was beginning to understand some of the scientific reasons for the different appearances and behaviors—things like
feather patterns, wing shape, migratory habits—he felt an even greater appreciation for their beauty.

Perhaps Henry had not been exaggerating in saying that knowledge enriched the experiences of life. It definitely had a certain
allure, reflected Lucas. Over the last week, he had spent several nights at home reading about gulls and fish hawks rather
than joining his friends in carousing with ladybirds. Lud, his comrades-in-revelry would laugh themselves sick if they knew.

Lucas was feeling rather virtuous for studying so hard… but all thoughts of virtue flew out the window as Ciara turned slightly
and bent over the table.

Hell.
Fire lit in his loins on seeing the figured muslin stretch across her shapely derriere.
Think of ornithology, not zoology,
chided the voice of Reason.

Too late.

It was not his intellect being put to the test, it was his sanity. She looked so achingly lovely, so damnably desirable.

And he was Mad, Bad Had-ley—a man not used to resisting his baser urges.

Before he could get hold of himself, Lucas had moved out of his chair and past the bookshelves. The oilcloth floor covering
muffled his approach. Intent on her task, Ciara was unaware of his presence until he tickled the goose quill pen against her
neck.

“Hadley!”

He caught the glass vial in midair. “Sorry. Did I surprise you?”

“By now, nothing you do should come as a shock.” However, she appeared a little flustered.

Lucas set the container down on the counter. “Not even the fact that I’ve finished my written examination ahead of schedule?”

“I wouldn’t crow quite yet, sir.” Ciara carefully wiped her fingers on her apron. “I have yet to read over your answers.”

He traced the feathered tip along the shell of her ear. “Oh, I think you’ll find yourself quite satisfied with my efforts.”

Her cheeks flushed, and the pulse at her throat seemed to grow a little erratic. “Well then, if you are done, you are dismissed
from the classroom early. I have some tests for my upcoming meeting of the Circle that I need to get finished.”

“Actually, I have another suggestion for how we could use the time.”

Ciara tried to evade his tickling touch. “Which is?”

“I thought we might switch roles,” he replied. “You be the student, and I’ll be the teacher for a change.”

“Please, Hadley. I have serious work to do.” She flicked the feather from his fingers. “And you are distracting me.”

“Afraid of learning something new?”

Her hands shook slightly as she added a teaspoon of vermilion powder to her cauldron. “What lesson do you have in mind?”

“An elemental experiment in chemistry.”

“A subject about which you know absolutely nothing,” she pointed out.

“On the contrary, I know a great deal about certain aspects,” he said, moving in close enough that his coat brushed her shoulder
blades. “Like what effect heat and friction have on a volatile substance.”

The scent of perfume rose up from her blush-warmed flesh, enveloping him in a cloud of longing. All semblance of self-control
dissolved into a need too strong to keep bottled up. Lucas reached out his hands.

She went very still.

“Yes, that’s it,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t move. Don’t speak. Just feel.” He pressed his palms to her hips and drew
them back slowly. “You’ve a lovely arse, Ciara. So smooth, so shapely.”

He heard her breath quicken as he caressed her curves.
So far, so good.

A hitch of his hands raised her skirts to her knees.

Ciara made a sound somewhere deep in her throat.

“Pay attention to the teacher.” He touched his lips to the nape of her neck, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin. “Be
still, darling.”

The whisper of lace ruffled softly as he skimmed his palms up the front of her thighs.

“Hadley—”

“Lucas,” he corrected.

“L-Luc—” She sucked in her breath. “Lud!”

Lucas rubbed his rigid shaft against her derriere and began a slow, rhythmic massaging of her lithe legs, coaxing her body
into a sensual, swaying slide of arousal.

Her hands were braced on the countertop, her knuckles white against the dark-grained wood.

“Steady, steady,” he crooned, watching the whirl of wonderment spasm across her profile. Tendrils of steam wafted up from
the cauldron. Her face was turning rosy, the rising heat of her flesh intensifying her scent. The sweetness of verbena mixed
with the earthy essence of her womanly passion.

Inhaling deeply, he nearly came undone.

Hell’s teeth.
He pulled her a little roughly against him as pure primal lust threatened to overwhelm all rational thought. But much as
he wanted to rip open his trousers and sheath himself in her heat, he held himself in check. As she turned her head in profile,
a flutter of her gold-tipped lashes reminded him that this was not about his own selfish satisfaction.

Perhaps it was a paltry gift, but he wanted to give her pleasure.

She moaned, her body softening as she arched herself into him.

“Yes, sweetheart, spread your legs a little wider.”

Her slippers slid over the painted floorcloth.

“Let me touch you here.” A scrim of delicate lace tickled against his fingertips. “And now here.”

The sound that slipped from her lips was neither a yes nor a no. It was something far more elemental. Lucas sensed the need
quivering through every fiber of her being, though she feared to let herself give voice to it.

Ciara was too strong, too unselfish to ask for anything for herself. He suddenly longed to free her from fear, to sweep her
into sweet oblivion. A special place where for a few precious moments she could feel herself at the very center of the universe.

What else could a rakehell rogue give her?

Skimming his hands up over her legs, Lucas found the fastenings of her garters. The knots yielded to a tug, and the silky
stockings slipped down from his probing touch.

She flinched ever so slightly as he found the slit in her drawers.

Skirts frothing against his legs, Lucas turned her to face him. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised, never meaning anything as
much in his life.

Slowly, hesitantly, Ciara lifted her hips in answer.

Easing through the finespun cotton, he found her folds of feminine flesh flooded with a pulsing, honeyed heat. The sensation
was sweet beyond his wildest words. With a low groan, he stroked through the dampened curls, feeling his fingers grow slick
with her essence.

She sucked in her breath.

Willing himself to go slowly, he centered a circling swirl on her pearl.

Ciara gasped, the rush of air hot against his cheek.

Oh, yes, oh, yes.

Lucas kissed her, teasing his tongue in and out of her mouth to match the quickening tempo of his touch. Her lips parted—hungrily,
it seemed to him—allowing his thrusts to go deeper and deeper. Moving his free hand to her breast, he felt her nipple harden
against his palm. The sensation of her intimate flesh peaking with pleasure was intensely erotic.

A growl—or was it a groan?—rumbled in his throat. Lucas had thought himself an expert in every nuance of sexual play, but
this feeling spiraling through his belly was something utterly new. Something utterly different.
Just who was teaching whom?

A little dizzy at the thought, he paused for an instant to catch his breath and steady his stance. Making sense of his reaction
could wait. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was to make the moment one that she would never forget. A memory etched
indelibly on her mind and her body.

“Oh, please.” Her eyes widened and winked with a luminous light. “Don’t stop.”

“Lucifer and a legion of his dark angels could not drag me away, sweetheart.” Lucas parted her petals and probed at the entrance
to her passage. “Do you like this?” he asked, his voice oddly urgent.

Ciara clenched around him. “Y-yes.”

He withdrew and then thrust his finger inside her again, a little bit deeper.

Burying her face in the folds of his cravat, she sank her teeth into the knotted linen. He heard her whimper and gulp for
air.

His own breath was a little ragged. “Have you any idea how beautiful you are, Ciara?” he whispered against her hair.

Her body tightened. “N-not me—”

“Yes, you, sweetheart.”

She twisted against him, squirming, sliding, seeking release from the coiling tautness that had taken possession of her body.

So close, so close.

She arched back, knocking a glass to the floor.

Though he felt the urge to shatter into a thousand tiny shards, Lucas kept a grip on his self-control. Uttering her name,
he delved into her depth with another stroking caress.

She came undone with a shuddering cry.

Lucas covered her mouth with his, sucking in the lush, liquid sound of her climax.

She clutched weakly at his shoulders. Only the weight of his body holding her hard to the edge of the counter kept her from
slipping to the floor. With her hair loosened, her lips lush with his kisses, she looked wildly, wantonly, womanly…

Wonderful.

He held her close, allowing her heartbeat to come back to normal before attempting to speak. Perhaps in a moment he would
think of a clever quip, but for now he was bereft of words. Strangely enough, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to say.

“Mama?” The silence was suddenly broken by a knock on the door. “May I come in? Is Lord Hadley here?”

In an instant, the dreamy glow was gone from Ciara’s eyes, replaced by a flare of fear. “Oh, dear God.” Slumping against the
counter, she looked around in a blind panic.

“Aye, lad. Give me just a moment—I’m finishing up the last part of my lesson.” Lucas quickly helped her shake out her skirts
into place and then tugged his coat in place to hide his arousal. After running a hand through his hair, he hurried to the
door. It took several tries for his fumbling fingers to work the latch open.

“What a fine afternoon, lad,” he said with a forced heartiness. “I’ve been cooped up here long enough. What say you to getting
some fresh air? Shall we practice our hitting skills?”

To his relief, the boy was too delighted with the suggestion to notice that anything was amiss. “Hooray! I’ll fetch the bat
and ball, sir!”

“Excellent, excellent! I’ll meet you in the garden.” He glanced back at Ciara, who had already begun sweeping up the powdered
pigments that had spilled to the floor.

She didn’t look up.

Lucas hesitated for a fraction, then turned and quietly closed the door.

T
oo restless to sleep, Ciara threw off the tangled sheets and rose from her bed. The scudding clouds hid all but a tiny sliver
of the moon. Its light flickered for a moment across the carpet, then was quickly obscured by the storm-black shadows. A drizzling
rain pattered against the leaded windows, and as she pressed her cheek to the glass, the chill seeping through felt good against
her skin.

Hot and cold. Black and white.

Life was rarely defined in such simple terms.

Her sigh fogged the glass. Ciara was shocked and appalled at her wanton behavior. As well as curious and elated. She knew
that she should feel ashamed of herself, but somehow guilt could not get a grip on her heart.

Was it wrong to seize a moment of pleasure?

Ciara wasn’t sure she knew the answer. Far more learned minds than hers had wrestled with the philosophical question.

She wandered out into the corridor, hesitated, and then headed for the library. A book—preferably one on a soporific subject
like crop rotation—might help to take the edge off her nerves. Then again, the topic of sowing seeds might not have the intended
calming effect.

What the devil did Hadley do to release his pent-up… frustrations?

The man would not suffer in solitude, she told herself. He had plenty of women willing to satisfy his needs. Or he could visit
a fancy brothel.

Neither option offered her much peace of mind. Not that it was any of her business how the earl spent his hours, or his money.
He was, of course, free to do as he pleased—

A tiny
snick,
the scrape of metal on metal, suddenly caught her attention.

Ciara stilled her steps and waited.

It came again.

Had she left a window latch loose in her laboratory?
She wasn’t usually so careless.

She was about to move when she heard a scuff of leather.
Footsteps.
Picking up a heavy brass candlestick from the side table, she tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear to the oak.

A shuffling, and then a low snarl as a set of measuring spoons jangled against the counter. “Son of a poxy bitch.”

The thought of an intruder pawing over her precious equipment roused her to action.

“Stop, thief!” she cried, throwing open the door and brandishing her weapon.

A chair overturned, its thump punctuated by the sound of breaking glass.

Damn!

“Stop!” Rage made her reckless. Without thinking, Ciara charged across the threshold.