The Scoundrel in Her Bed (Sins for All Seasons #3) Read online

  He shifted his eyes up to hers, released his hold on her arm, and cupped her face. “And I’m ever so glad I did.”

  Then, as though whatever tether had been holding him back broke, he moved up, covering half her body with his, slipping his knee between her thighs, keeping his weight off her by levering himself on his elbows. He bracketed her face between his large hands. “I love you, Vivi. I’ll always love you.”

  The earnest proclamation humbled her as he claimed her mouth as his own. Claimed all of her, with strokes and caresses.

  And she laid claim to him, as though she were an explorer discovering an unchartered land. She tested the firmness of all his muscles, skimming her fingers over them, curving her hands around them. So strong, so magnificent. All of it hers. To feast on with eyes and lips, to appreciate, to touch to her heart’s content.

  Cradling her breast, he plumped it up and lowered his mouth to it, dotting kisses over it until he neared her nipple. His velvety tongue circled it, causing it to pucker, then he drew it into his mouth and suckled. His actions so decadent, her reaction so wicked, as pleasure coursed through her and she wanted to cry out for more.

  Only she couldn’t cry out. They had to remain quiet, nearly silent as the ecstasy built, as the secretive spot between her legs began to throb, to demand attention. As though he could sense it, he pressed his hand to her core. Heat swarmed over her.

  Working her hand between them, she wrapped her fingers around him. He bucked, growled low. He was hot, so hot, velvet over steel.

  He shifted until he was resting between her thighs. She felt him poised at her entrance. Taking hold of himself, he rubbed the tip over her, again and again, driving her to madness. He eased into her. She stiffened.

  “Relax,” he ordered.

  “It hurts.”

  He began pressing kisses to her throat, until all she was thinking about was his mouth and the trail of dew he was leaving in its wake. Then he pushed harder.

  She bit back her cry. Rising above her, he held her gaze. “I don’t know how to make it not hurt. Do you want me to stop?”

  She shook her head. “I want you to make me yours.”

  Reaching beneath her, he lifted her hips, changing their angle, and then he plunged, deep and sure, blanketing her mouth, absorbing her shriek. She was his, and in spite of the pain she was glad for it.

  Slowly, he rocked against her until her body was more welcoming, until the pain eased, until she was lost in the wonder of them being truly united, two becoming one.

  The pleasure she’d experienced earlier began to return, but with more intensity, more purpose. She dug her fingers into his buttocks, guiding him, as his movements quickened. Her nerve endings began to prickle, her breasts grew heavy, and her womanhood came fully awake, bursting with sensations that had her gasping and making little mewling sounds. Once again, he covered her mouth with his, quieting her with a swirl of his tongue, a stroke of hers.

  Then everything came apart and something completely unexpected burst through her, as stars shot around her, seemed to explode within her. He pumped into her, groaned throatily, went stiff and still, although she could feel the tiny tremors cascading through him, through her.

  Burying his mouth in the curve of her shoulder, he went limp. They both lay there, breathing heavily, and she felt her love for him expand in an all-encompassing emotion.

  Laboriously, he lifted himself up, met her gaze, caressed his thumb over her cheek. “Are you all right?”

  With a soft smile, she nodded.

  “It shouldn’t hurt so much next time.”

  “It doesn’t matter if it does.”

  “Of course it matters. I never want to hurt you. I love you, Vivi. I love you with every part of me.”

  Chapter 9

  1871

  I love you. Words that had once been so easily given, words he doubted he’d ever utter again.

  Sitting in the darkened bedchamber, he waited, striving to ignore the stink of some perfume that was overly sweet. Why would a man wear something that made him smell like a rose in bloom? Or maybe the Earl of Dearwood kept it on hand for his paramours.

  In spite of the fact that the man’s name was familiar, Finn couldn’t quite recall where he’d encountered it before. He should focus on puzzling it out, but thoughts of Lady Lavinia Kent kept intruding, demanding attention. Vivi. He recalled a time when merely murmuring her name had been a balm to his soul.

  Why was it that after all these years and all the pain she’d caused him, he still found himself drawn to her? He’d wanted to press his lips to hers, caress his hands over every inch of her silken flesh, tangle his fingers in her hair, push his cock into the tight cove of her womanhood, where once she’d held him so snugly he’d had no desire to ever leave.

  He had to wonder: if he’d never known her, if they’d had no past, if he’d only met her for the first time tonight—would he have been as intrigued, would he have wanted to learn all he could about her? That was the hell of it. He’d have been more intrigued because there would have been nothing to cloud his thinking, his judgment.

  What had happened to shape her into a woman who would risk so much to ensure the safety of children? Although he couldn’t forget how comforting she’d been when she’d learned the truth of his parentage. She hadn’t turned away from him as he’d expected. Why had she later?

  In retrospect, what he’d known about her, what he’d felt for her, had been little more than the passions of youth. He knew little about her politics, her religion, upon what she placed value, how much she might be willing to sacrifice to achieve her dreams. He couldn’t even claim to know precisely what her dreams were—or had been.

  He’d thought she’d been willing to give up her aristocratic life for him, but she hadn’t been waiting for him. Instead it had been her father who had informed him she wouldn’t be coming. Had she changed her mind about the life he’d been offering?

  If so, then why was she now living what appeared to be a much harsher life, one with fewer niceties, one without him? What had taken so long for her to choose this path? What had prompted her to do so now? The questions, so many questions, swirled through his mind with such speed and ferocity that he thought he might run mad if he didn’t obtain the answers. She was the only one who could give them to him.

  Better to be done with her, to forget he’d ever found her. Even better to take her to her brother and claim the five hundred quid. The irony of that path wasn’t lost on him. They’d sent him to prison because he’d wanted her. Now they’d pay him a reward because he no longer wanted her and would return her to the place she belonged. Although he wasn’t quite certain she did belong there any longer, and the thought of returning her didn’t sit well with him.

  He missed her, damn it all to hell. She’d been his first, but not his last. He’d had other women since her, but none of them had managed to work their way into his soul. The coupling was always perfunctory, just an act, skin touching, hips thrusting until the release came—always unsatisfactory and disappointing. Only with her had he ever caught a glimpse of something that closely resembled heaven.

  Hearing the echo of distant footsteps on the stairs, he shoved aside all the unsettling thoughts and questions about Vivi. Inhaling a deep breath, he brought forth a mien he didn’t particularly like, but it served a purpose, albeit one he didn’t especially care for, but it was all for a greater good. The door opened, and a gentleman staggered in, carrying a lamp. Finn was surprised the bloke hadn’t set fire to his residence on his journey up. He waited until the lamp was safely set on the bedside table and the gent had turned away from it. Patience was one of the virtues that made him so good at what he did. “My lord.”

  The Earl of Dearwood yelped like a kicked dog, staggered back, and grabbed one of the bedposts. “Good God! How did you get in here?”

  “That’s my little secret. You’ve been avoiding my brother’s establishment of late.”

  “I’ve been playing elsewhere.”<
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  “Be that as it may, my brother has grown weary of waiting on you to bring what you owe him. Five thousand pounds is a lot of blunt.”

  “I’m well aware. Unfortunately, my luck has yet to improve, as he is no doubt well aware. I don’t have the means to pay what I owe at this time.” He released his hold on the poster and straightened his back, although he did weave a bit as though the room was continuing to spin. “I’m good for it.”

  “He’ll need some collateral.”

  “See here—”

  “Your watch, ring, and neck cloth pin should do it.”

  “I’m not parting with anything at all—except for your company. See yourself out.”

  Finn slowly unfolded his body. He had a couple of inches and a couple of stones on the dandified lord. He cracked his knuckles, the ominous echo filling the room. Even in the dim light, he could see the lord pale.

  “Let’s not be hasty here.” As Dearwood spoke, he was unhooking his watch chain from his waistcoat button.

  On silent feet that had the lord looking even more unnerved, Finn approached and held out his hand, suddenly recalling where their paths had crossed before. A ballroom. Finn hadn’t like him then; he liked him even less now. Avoiding his gaze, Dearwood dropped the watch, ring with the diamond in its center, and the diamond stickpin onto his palm. “Which arm do you favor, right or left?”

  The earl jerked his head back as though he’d been punched, no doubt a result of the threatening manner in each Finn had delivered his question. “What does it matter?”

  “Which arm?” Finn asked in a tone that would brook no disobedience.

  “Right,” the earl said hesitantly.

  “Wear a splint on it for the next six weeks.”

  “But it’s not broken.”

  “It will be if I see it without a splint. I was to deliver some pain as a reminder not to run afoul of the owner of the Cerberus Club. I wouldn’t like for him to discover I’d not followed through on his orders.” A lie. As long as Aiden got paid, he cared nothing at all about delivering reminders.

  “I shall gladly wear a splint.”

  Finn grinned. “Wiser still to stop borrowing money with which to do your gambling.

  With his shoulder pressed to a beam that supported the landing, Finn looked out over the gaming floor below that was enshrouded in near darkness. He’d stopped off at the Cerberus Club to transfer the collateral he’d collected to Aiden and then made his way to his own club. The Elysium.

  While Aiden’s was bustling with card play, drinking, and swearing as hands were lost, Finn’s was already closed for the night. He had only a dozen or so members, hadn’t really begun promoting the place yet because he’d been working to make it perfect. Had needed it to be perfect.

  During the past three years since his release from prison, he’d worked for Aiden, learning how to manage a gaming hell. On occasion, he served as Aiden’s heavy, intimidating and collecting money or collateral from those who owed Aiden more than he suspected they could eventually repay. During his spare hours, he took lessons from Gillie regarding spirits, how to properly store and serve them. Which were the best and which ladies might prefer. When Mick had built his posh hotel, Finn had spent a lot of time studying it, because unlike Aiden’s shadowy and dreary place that catered to the darker side of London, Finn had wanted his club to reflect a lady’s tastes because his clientele was to be of the feminine variety. He’d intended it to be a secretive place where the ladies of the nobility could engage in all manner of wickedness.

  His plan had been to adopt Aiden’s scheme of keeping the place elusive, so its allure was the fact that not everyone knew about it and many who did wouldn’t know where to find it. Its appeal rested in its clandestineness. But he wanted it bright and fancy like Mick’s hotel. He wanted to serve the finest liquors. And he wanted it done with a bit of stylishness.

  He’d been creating a web of many strands, its main purpose to lure in Lady Lavinia Kent. He’d had no desire to go to her, but if he’d been able to get her to come to him . . .

  After he’d gotten out of prison, recovering from the ordeal of his captivity, he’d not been in a state to confront her. In truth, he’d wanted to know nothing about her. He’d avoided the tabloids, hadn’t asked his siblings what they might know of her. Hadn’t wanted to know if she was betrothed or married or was mother to a horde of children already. He hadn’t wanted to know if she was happy or sad or regretful. He hadn’t wanted to know how she might have changed—for better or worse. He’d needed what he knew of the woman who’d betrayed him to remain unchanged in order to sustain his anger with her and his need to find some way to get back at her.

  He’d created the place for her, out of vengeance, like a widow spider creating her web. He’d intended to lure her in, although he wasn’t quite certain what he would have done then. Ensured she lost all her blunt, watch from the shadows, report her notorious behavior to the newspapers and gossip sheets.

  Working for Aiden, helping him to manage his club and occasionally putting the Trewlove fear into someone who had run up a debt and seemed in no hurry to pay it back, Finn had slowly been saving so he could purchase a building and everything he needed to turn it into what he dreamed of. Even when Aiden called it another one of Finn’s follies, he was determined not to give up on it.

  Every afternoon, he took Sophie out for a ride in the park to let her stretch her legs, to keep her from going wild. A lord had spotted her and approached Finn about allowing his stallion to cover her, and the fee he’d paid had been enough to get Finn started sooner than might have happened otherwise.

  Then damn it all to hell, last week he’d seen Vivi embracing three children in the wee hours and all his careful planning had seemed for naught. She wasn’t the girl of eight years ago. The woman he’d encountered tonight had been nearly a stranger.

  Yet still he’d been drawn to her, intrigued by her as though no years had passed. Who was this woman who now roamed the midnight streets of Whitechapel as though they belonged to her? What happened to the girl he’d once intended to marry?

  Chapter 10

  1863

  Forever Falling

  Finn waited in the shadows, his heart in his throat, worried she might not show, that in the light of day she might have been filled with regrets. He’d left her near dawn with the promise to be waiting for her at midnight. After making love to her, after holding her in his arms, he’d known he’d find it impossible to wait until Tuesday to see her. Even now, he was contemplating stealing inside—

  Then the door opened, and she was slipping through the narrow gap. Before she closed the door, he was at her side, inhaling her sweet fragrance, taking pleasure from the way she beamed up at him.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello.” Then because he had no resistance where she was concerned, he kissed her, loving the way she came to him with such eagerness, her arms winding around his neck, her breasts flattened against his chest, as her mouth mated enthusiastically with his. His cock hardened and strained against his trousers, and wicked wench that she was, she rose up on her toes, then lowered her heels back to the ground, again and again, rubbing her belly along his pole, driving him to distraction. It occurred to him that they could suddenly find themselves surrounded by the British army and he’d not notice.

  Breaking off the kiss, he grabbed her hand and pulled her after him as he sprinted for the mews where Sophie was saddled and waiting.

  “You brought her!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  He’d taken the risk because their little trysts hadn’t been discovered. “I didn’t want to go to my brother’s brickworks factory tonight, and I knew you’d miss not seeing her.”

  Spinning around, she placed her hands on his shoulders, held his gaze. “You know me so well.”

  He knew her almost as well as he knew himself.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “It’s a surprise.” Then he hoisted her into the saddle. Slippi
ng a foot into the stirrup, he swung his leg over the horse’s rump and settled in behind Vivi. Taking the reins in one hand and snaking his other arm around Vivi’s waist, he nudged the mare forward.

  Vivi snuggled against him. “I love our riding together.”

  “What else do you like us doing together?”

  She looked back at him. In the moonlight, he could see she’d pressed her teeth to her bottom lip. “Naughty things, things we shouldn’t.”

  “Do you have regrets, Vivi?”

  Her hand came up, and she cradled his cheek. “No. It was marvelous, Finn, and I’m a woman now. Although, to be honest, I don’t feel any different. However, I did fear my parents might be able to tell that I wasn’t the same as I’d been yesterday morning. It’s a remarkable thing, really, that a woman can give herself to a man and no one is the wiser for it.”

  “I’m wiser for it.”

  Laughing, she turned back around and settled herself more securely against him. “In what way?”

  “I know your nipples are a light pink and pucker if I blow on them.”

  She giggled. “What else?”

  “You’re a dark pink between your legs, and you glisten when you want me.”

  “Am I glistening now, do you think?”

  Christ, he hoped so. He pressed his mouth against her ear. “I don’t know. Are you?”

  “Maybe.”

  He wanted her so badly he thought he’d burst. “Are you hurting from last night?”

  “I was a little sore this morning, but not now. Oh, Finn, what are we to do? I know you can’t come to my bedchamber every night.”

  “I can’t take you to my lodgings because I share a room with Beast.” Although he was fairly certain his brother would make himself scarce should he ask, but Vivi was a lady of the highest caliber, and it was imperative no one suspect what had passed between them, no one question her reputation, he bring her no shame. “And the rooms I could afford to let for the night aren’t good enough for a proper lady.”