Twice Fallen (22 page)

“Ultimately?” Her gaze was confused, but yet defiant. “I don’t—”

“You have my word.” He swept her up in his arms. “But for now, we’re alone and I’ve every intention of taking advantage of it.”

“I

The uneven gait as he carried her was a contrast to the easy clasp of his arms, the pronounced limp a reminder that this was a man with a complicated past. Damien stopped her protest with a look, his dark eyes veiled. “You weigh next to nothing and I am not a complete cripple.”

I can walk
. It was an indication she’d go with him willingly. Had she just said yes?

A tickle of panic stirred in her belly, but the sensation warred with another one—that of wayward anticipation.

That kiss
. It wasn’t as if just because Arthur had disillusioned her in almost every way possible she had abandoned her innate desire for a hero who would sweep her off her feet—to the contrary, the fantasy lingered and perhaps her bitter experience had even enhanced her romanticized imaginings of what it would be like to desire and be desired.

And Damien wanted her. She’d sensed it in the way his mouth had moved against hers, careful but yet hot and demanding, and then, of course, the shockingly
hardened state of his body, easily felt through the material of his tight breeches and her thin nightdress.

“I didn’t say you were a cripple, just that I am perfectly capable of walking up myself.”

His mouth curved into a slight, mesmerizing smile. “I thought all females wanted secretly to be whisked away against their will by a wicked seducer.”

“How would you know?” she asked tartly.

A low masculine laugh was her only answer.

The hallway was dark, but she had the impression of bare polished paneling and the scent of beeswax and lemon. In an abstract way she wondered what it would look like if anyone saw them, and then realized she’d put her arm around his neck. Not an unwilling seduction, that was for certain.

For four long years she’d been the recipient of sly glances and nasty whispers, and it had galled her to know that no doubt many of those who judged her were much more culpable when it came to inappropriate behavior than she’d ever dreamed of.

Until now.

Even the night of their elopement, Lily had never thought she would lie with Arthur until their vows had been said, and it had been a relief when he’d secured separate rooms.

When she’d understood why, the virginal uncertainty had turned into stunned incredulity, but as Damien gained the top of the stairs and shouldered his way through a half-opened door, she knew—
knew
—this evening would not turn out as that one might have, even if Arthur had desired her madly.

The starry-eyed notions she’d had as a debutante of
Arthur sweeping her into his arms were nothing like the stark reality of Damien carrying her to his bed, depositing her on the softness of the mattress, and bracing a hand on either side of her supine body and leaning close, so his breath whispered across her lips. His voice was husky. “I want to make love to you. I realize that other than one bouquet of violets, I have not given you a proper courtship, but in case you have not noticed, life is full of ironies. What we lack in formal calls and genteel dances and poetry, we gain back in secret staircases and blackmailed lovers and midnight abductions.”

Lily touched his neck, the tensile strength of the muscles there betraying his tension. “I’ve enjoyed the latter much more than I ever liked the former, my lord.”

“You see? The perfect woman for me.”

Am I?

She wanted him to kiss her again and there was a flush to her skin that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. Even in her thin nightdress she was too warm, and when he straightened and began to unbutton his shirt, she watched in open fascination.

She—the supposedly fallen—should already know all this. The quicksilver motion of a man’s fingers as he slipped each fastening free, the way he watched her with heavy-lidded eyes, the slightly rumpled silk of his hair. But she didn’t, she never had, and at two and twenty, she was tired of worrying that a Sir George might be her only option. That a twice-widowed man willing to overlook her soiled status would be the best she could do, while other supposedly fine ladies indulged in affairs and took lovers but whispered about her behind their gloved hands.

She was no longer that wide-eyed innocent who had not been canny enough to avoid scandal.

This evening she was making a choice.

What did he say? Oh, yes, the perfect woman for him
…
Does he really think so
?

“No one is perfect, least of all me.”

He had a way of smiling that wasn’t a smile at all. More a shift of his facial muscles, like the sun rising as it slowly spread in a hint of light, so that you knew he was amused but his expression never truly showed it. “What more could a retired spy ask for than a lady of daring and wit, one who lurks in libraries and does not mind being abducted in the dead of night?”

She might have answered except he shrugged out of his shirt and it slipped down to the floor. There was no lamp lit and the only illumination was the glint of the stars and a full moon that shone through the window with the draperies still open, the muscular planes of his chest defined in silver light.

In this moment, she should think of a clever response, but it didn’t come. Her gaze was fastened on his half-naked body and her heart fluttered at a rate that made her catch her breath.

Deep in her brain she protested the method in which she’d come to be there, and a traitorous part of her also celebrated.

“Do you want me to send you home?” He sat down and tugged at a boot. “It isn’t too late.”

It was much, much too late and she had a feeling he knew it full well. “No.”

The second boot went flying. “I was rather hoping
you’d say that. We can discuss the future when I call tomorrow, but for now, I think I’ll join you.”

When he did so, the bed dipping under his weight, she took in a sharp breath. “I hope I am allowed to be nervous.”

Damien kissed her lightly, then more deeply after a brief retreat, his mouth insistent and firm and his tongue sweeping against hers, before he lifted his head. “Let me put you at ease.”

In the next moments she learned that meant a gentle gathering into his arms and a slow, calculated assault on her senses. Taste—his was like brandy and warm male, the tactile sensation of the slow guide of his fingertips along her bared arm, the scent of his skin, the exhale of his breath, the intense look in his eyes when he raised his head and their gazes locked…

“I want to touch you.” It was a request for permission, but already his fingers tugged at the ribbon on her bodice. “I haven’t bedded a virgin before.… If I make you uncomfortable, tell me.”

“Everything about you makes me uncomfortable,” she confessed, watching the way the moonlight gilded his features, “but not as you’d think. I’m
aware
of you.”

“I hope so”—his smile was a fleeting ghost as he parted the material of her nightdress—“for I certainly intend for you to be.”

The cool waft of air over the exposed tip of her breast as he pulled the fabric aside was both enlightening and embarrassing, the idea of nudity not completely an unknown—she was widely read—but in reality a bit more immediate than she’d ever imagined.

“Damien,” she gasped in protest even as he lowered
his head and lightly licked her nipple. The intimate caress caused the muscles in her stomach to tighten and her head to fall back.

His hand touched her breast, slowly cupping it. His long fingers gently moved against her tingling skin as he did sinful things to the other nipple, lathing it so the wet heat of his mouth made her shudder, grazing the sides of her mounded flesh with his lips, nuzzling the valley between them…

Then, as if he knew exactly what she wanted, he switched sides, administering to the aching tip of her other breast as she uttered an inarticulate sound of pleasure and clutched his shoulders.

She was barely aware of how he inched her nightdress lower and lower until it slid free of her arms, and then in a deft movement, he lifted her and stripped it off completely. His fingertips touched the plane of her stomach, making her quiver as his gaze examined her naked body. “As I said before… perfection.”

Neither voluptuous nor petite, she’d always thought she was rather ordinary. Medium in height, not full-bosomed but with enough curves to be feminine, her hair unfashionably brunette, but with a hint of gold in the brown strands; her eyes being her best asset in her opinion. In short, pretty enough to draw notice but hardly a dazzling beauty, yet at this moment, from the glitter of desire in his dark eyes, she believed he was sincere.

Actually, from the moment they’d met she’d trusted him, because otherwise she would never have dared that dark, narrow staircase nor would she be there now, naked in his bed, a flush on her skin and a curious warmth between her legs.

His finger trailed lower to brush the triangle of hair at the apex of her thighs, the touch light but shocking. Lily went very still, half closing her eyes, her breathing shallow; shy but not nearly as much as she imagined she would be at a moment like this. Though, she had to admit, if it had been anyone else regarding her with that heavy-lidded stare, she would be horribly uncomfortable.

This was… different. It was beyond anything she’d imagined, and even in her inexperience, she knew it was just beginning.

She
trusted
him.

Allowances had to be made for the simple fact Lily had no idea what she was doing to him. Damien was also somewhat out of his element, in that he didn’t seduce young maidens, even supposedly fallen ones.

What he really wanted was to tear off his breeches so they could be skin to skin, but her innocence was a deterrent, and besides, his disfigured leg made him self-conscious.

There were ghosts, it seemed, in both their pasts that were determined to rise and cause conflict at this poignant moment. He regarded her flushed face, the glory of her nude body, the sultry frame of her outspread hair, and knew he was both blessed and cursed.

Cursed he was used to, but blessed was going to take an adjustment. He stood, his fingers going to the fastenings on his breeches, and he undid them swiftly, grateful to be free of the confining cloth. He didn’t wish to make her apprehensive, but then again, she didn’t seem to be as startled as he expected. As he shoved down the garment
and moved toward the bed, her gaze held his, though her lips trembled a fraction as he lowered himself on top of her. He knew she could feel the press of his erection hot and hard against her inner thigh, but there were some parts of this evening he could control and some that were beyond him. His arousal was part of the latter category.

“I won’t do anything you don’t expect,” he promised, kissing her after the soft words. Nose to nose, his body tense over her softer one, he did his best to ignore the urgency of his need. Then he smiled, qualifying his words. “Depending, of course, on what that is. Lily, please help me with this.”

“I am supposed to help with my own seduction?” A trembling laugh lingered behind the question.

“Yes.” Damien trailed his lips down the curve of her throat. “Absolutely. What could be better? Tell me what you want.”

“How could I possibly know?”

Her breath was coming even quicker now, the rise of her luscious breasts against his chest so arousing he had to stop himself and fight for control. He tickled the hollow beneath her ear with his mouth. “Does this feel good?”

“Yes.” She arched.

That was too honest to be coy. It was one of her most alluring attributes and she had many. He shifted to settle over her body even more, his hand sliding across her thigh, stroking the satin skin. “And this?”

When his fingers found the warm heat between her legs she shut her eyes, but to his gratification, she didn’t resist, though she tensed. “Damien.”

Her cleft was exquisitely warm and soft, and though already damp, she was not quite wet enough for penetration. Propped next to her in the bed on one elbow so he could see her expression in the moonlight, he began to stroke her to readiness with a slow, calculated rotation of his hand. Female arousal was not a deep dark secret, though he knew most men would do better to pay more attention to a touch in just the right place, whispered words in their partner’s ear, to feather their lips along the arch of her throat.…

Lily at first lay very still, her thighs only marginally parted, her eyes half-shut and her beautiful breasts quivering with each sharply indrawn breath. The moonlight silvered the highlights in her silken hair, those shimmering strands spilling in disarray over his sheets.

The compliment he’d given her wasn’t simply a lover’s words as a prelude to passion, but the truth. The reference wasn’t just to physical perfection, as that didn’t actually exist, but to his personal preferences. It was odd, but he’d never considered what he found attractive in a woman. Naturally, he was like any other man and found a certain symmetry of features and body pleasing, but with Lily it was something else, something intrinsic in the way she moved, smiled, or as at the moment, exhibited both an endearing courage and the greatest trust a woman could give a man.

Damien wanted this first time to be all it could be for her. He was, in fact, determined it would be. Whether or not it had been intentional, she’d been despicably cheated by Arthur Kerr.

If she were going to fall from grace this evening, Damien was determined she would count it worth it.

“Oh.” The soft sigh drifted out and her hips shifted, her slender thighs parting a telltale distance more as her sex softened, his fingers growing wet as he continued to arouse her untutored body. Damien leaned down to press his mouth to where her pulse fluttered in the hollow of her throat. “That’s it,” he whispered in encouragement. “Let it come.”

Her heavy lashes fluttered, but her concentration had obviously shifted to the bombardment of new sensations, for a moment later she moaned, arching her back, and as he continued to stroke and fondle, she finally gasped and began to shudder.