Chapter 17
As always, Ellie had surprised him.
In the midst of a self-inflicted battle between honor and lust, Damien felt the mad urge to laugh. Here he was, determined to do one decent act in his misbegotten life, and she was offering herself to him on a silver platter. He ought to vacate her bedchamber at once, never to return. He absolutely ought not to be eyeing her lavish bosom and wondering if a tug on her bodice would allow those beautiful breasts to spring free.
The light touch of her fingertip on his lips was far too provocative, so he caught hold of her wrist to stop her. Didn’t she realize how difficult this was for him? Or maybe the little minx did know.
“I’ve already promised you a cottage and a stipend,” he growled. “We made an agreement, and you can’t add anything more to it.”
“Why not? I don’t recall signing any legal papers.” As if the matter were settled, Ellie began to undo the buttons of his greatcoat. “Besides, in the eyes of society, I’m already ruined. Since people will whisper that I’ve lain with you, why not do so in fact? At least then I will have gained the benefit of experiencing the sin that I am believed to have committed.”
He should step away from those deft fingers. But he was roasting hot. He needed to shed the heavy coat and then bury himself deep inside her body. No, he’d be wiser to take a plunge into the icy depths of the sea. “You’re supposed to save yourself for the man that you marry.”
“Then pray be assured, I have no intention of ever marrying.”
Her calm statement caught him off guard. Why would she say such a thing? Even Veronica had wanted to get married—just not to a bastard rogue like him.
Ellie pushed the greatcoat off his shoulders. As he shrugged out of the sleeves and let the garment fall to the floor, he snarled, “What the devil do you mean, never marry? All women want to marry.”
“I can’t speak for all women, only for myself. And I don’t care to have a husband.” She reached up to work at the knot of his cravat. “After twelve years in my uncle’s house, I’ve had my fill of tending to the demands of other people. I want to live on my own without any entanglements. Why would I trade one form of servitude for another?”
Her frank assessment made him glower down at her in unaccountable ire. He didn’t want to marry again, either. Didn’t that make them a perfect match? She was every scoundrel’s dream, lovely and willing, requiring no commitment from him except to fulfill her sexual desires. Yet perversely, Damien wanted to shake sense into her.
He pulled her fingers away from his neck cloth and imprisoned them beneath his, flat against his chest. “If you truly wish to live alone, that’s precisely why we shouldn’t do this. I could impregnate you, Ellie. You may very well conceive my child.”
She glanced away for a moment, biting her lip. Then she returned her gaze to him, those big brown eyes as direct as ever. “I accept that risk. And if perchance I should find myself in a delicate condition, I’ll raise the child on my own. Never fear, I absolve you of any and all obligation.”
Absolve him! Her assumption of his irresponsibility lit a powder keg in Damien. He wanted to explode in fury that he would never, ever abandon his own child. Why in hell would she assume that he would?
It was his unsavory reputation, of course. That, and the fact that no one knew about Lily. He had taken great pains to keep his daughter’s existence hidden from the world, to protect her from society gossips who might whisper of her father’s ill-repute. He would not speak of her now, either, not even to exonerate himself in Ellie’s eyes.
She was staring up at him, a faintly quizzical expression on her face as if she sensed his powerful reaction and sought to understand it. He wouldn’t allow her to fathom his thoughts. His private life belonged to him alone. The only knowledge she would elicit from him tonight would be carnal.
If Ellie thought him a rake, then by God, he would be one.
He thrust his fingers into her elegant coiffure, dislodging the pins so that her rich auburn curls cascaded over her shoulders. Bringing his mouth close to hers, he murmured silkily, “Then you shall have what you wish, Ellie. How could any man resist such beauty and fire?”
* * *
Ellie had been perplexed by the tautness of anger on his face. Everything she’d said had been designed to clarify that she was not like his late wife, that she would not trap him into marriage, not under any circumstances. Wasn’t that what men of his ilk wanted? An easy liaison without commitments? Yet she had sensed the rise of ire in him, his eyes taking on a shuttered look that concealed his thoughts.
Then, like a slate wiped clean, the harshness had altered into a look of seductive charm. In one swift move he made a tangle of her carefully arranged curls—and she could not be happier. Now, his fingers were doing delicious things to the sensitive skin of her scalp and neck, while his mouth trailed soft kisses over her face.
Did he truly think of her in terms of beauty and fire?
A sublime longing seared through Ellie and melted her knees. She clung to his broad shoulders and closed her eyes, the better to enjoy the sensations he aroused in her. This was not the same as the mad, impassioned embrace on the parapet, but she liked it just as much. Perhaps even more, she amended, as his lips brushed over hers, his tongue taking provocative sips at her mouth.
Believe me, Ellie, if ever I decide to seduce you, you’ll know it and you’ll want me to do it.
He’d said that to her only the previous day, when she had sprained her ankle. At the time she had scoffed, but not anymore. How very right he had been. She could think of nowhere else she wanted to be than in his arms, every part of her alive with anticipation. More than anything in the world, she wanted him to seduce her just like this.
His hands moved down her back, opening the row of pearl buttons that she’d struggled with for ten minutes to fasten by herself. Damien made much shorter work of them. In a matter of moments, he’d loosened her gown and tugged off the sleeves, letting the silk of her bodice drop to her waist. Cool air caressed her skin. She had purposely left off her corset tonight, so that now only a simple chemise preserved her modesty.
One arm looped around her waist, he turned his attention downward to her bosom. Her overly large breasts jutted against the white linen, the darker nipples visible through the fine fabric. His eyelids were lowered somewhat, and he wore a look of such sober concentration that shyness crept over her.
Was he comparing her to his delicately beautiful wife?
Her arm moved of its own volition in a feeble attempt to shield herself. Haltingly, she murmured, “I’m sorry I’m not … dainty. As a lady ought to be.”
He looked up sharply. One corner of his mouth quirked in amusement. “Sorry? Good God, Ellie. You are an innocent.”
Placing his hand on the outside of her chemise, he cupped one voluptuous globe in his palm, his thumb rubbing idly over the linen-draped tip. “You’re exquisite exactly as you are. See? We’re a perfect fit.” Continuing to stroke her in that exciting manner, he added, “I’ve no doubt we shall fit just as perfectly elsewhere, too.”
A quiver of anticipation suffused her from head to toe. He was referring to the intimate act they would share, Ellie knew. She had only a general idea of how it was accomplished, and his implication made her eager to lift the veil on the mysteries of lovemaking. He teased her again with those small, stirring kisses over her face and throat. Her skin had become acutely sensitive to his touch, and the caress of his fingers on her breasts created a river of heat that flowed downward to enrich the ache between her legs.
“Damien.” Sighing his name, she wreathed her arms around his neck, as much for support as to encourage his kisses. He obliged her with a playful skirmish of their open mouths that left her wanting more. How could he be so controlled? She herself felt possessed by a wild yearning that she knew not how to assuage. When he drew back abruptly, she made a small mewl of protest.
He rubbed his knuckles soothingly down her cheek. “You oughtn’t be standing on that injured ankle.”
“Mmm,” she said, rising on tiptoes to invite another kiss, “it isn’t hurting me at all right now.”
“Nevertheless, I’d prefer to make love to you in bed—without the impediment of clothing.”
With a flick of his fingers, he untied the strings of her petticoat, sending it and her gown slithering to the floor. He swept her up against him and half carried her to the large four-poster, where he drew back the covers and laid her down against the pillows.
Reclining on the cool sheets, she wore only the gossamer chemise, silk stockings, the garnet slippers. Should she remove them? The fleeting thought vanished as Damien straightened up beside the bed.
He peeled off his coat and waistcoat, letting them fall where they might. As he reached up his arms to strip the white linen shirt over his head, Ellie rolled onto her side and watched in utter enthrallment. She had always wondered if the marble statues of Greek gods had been exaggerated by the sculptor; surely the subject had been carved to appear larger than life. But Damien could have been a model for a masterpiece of classical art. He had a powerful torso, his arms and shoulders were defined by taut muscles, his chest was a broad expanse with a scattering of black hair that disappeared into his waistband.
The mattress dipped as he sat down to tug off his boots, dropping each with a thud onto the carpet. Clad in only his breeches, he turned to brace one arm on either side of her. Their gazes held for an eloquent moment. The only sounds were the snapping of the fire and the beating of her heart in her ears. His green-gray eyes revealed a concentrated ardor, along with something else, something she couldn’t define.
A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Ellie,” he said gruffly. “You can still change your mind.”
He was granting her a choice. Even now, he was being considerate of her sensibilities. He didn’t want her to make a mistake that she might regret for the rest of her life. Reaching up, she lightly touched the rigid set of his jaw. “I want this, Damien. I want you. So very much.”
He searched her eyes for another moment, and whatever he was seeking must have satisfied him. The tension in his expression eased and he gave her a scoundrel’s smile that promised exciting things to come. Then he joined their mouths in a deep, meltingly intimate kiss.
Succumbing to temptation, she explored the hard planes and angles of his upper body. His skin was hot, smooth in places and rough with hair in others. She loved the solidity of his muscles, the firmness of his chest abrading her breasts. All of her senses felt alive and vibrant. Never had she known that a man’s taste could be so delicious, or that his scent could stimulate her passion.
How incredible to reflect that a week ago, she hadn’t even met him. Damien seemed a part of her now, an extension of her own body, as if they were bound by some inexplicable force. She could no more send him away than she could stop the swift thrum of her pulse beat.
He kissed a scorching path down over her chemise, then proceeded to remove her shoes and garters, lingering over the task of rolling down her silk stockings, one at a time. The brush of his fingers on her thighs and calves was exquisite torture. In her na?veté, Ellie had not known that lovemaking could be unhurried and prolonged, with every action savored. It was fulfilling—and it was tormenting, too, a splendid frustration that honed her desire for him. At last, when her legs were bare and he had finished worshiping them, he tugged up the hem of her chemise.
Ellie shifted position to help him draw it over her head. Then she sank back against the pillows as he gazed over her nakedness. She felt no shame, only a sense of rightness in letting him look upon her. The keen appreciation in his eyes made her feel beautiful, admired, womanly in a way she’d never before known.
He ran his fingertips over the hills of her breasts, then down over the plain of her belly and around the curve of her hips. “I’m glad now that you wore those shapeless sacks,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. “No other man has ever seen you like this.”
The look he gave her was fierce and profound. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, and she sensed that he was keeping his own passions under strict control. But she didn’t want him to be disciplined. She wanted him to give free rein to the madness that he’d displayed out on the parapet.
“Make love to me, Damien. Please.”
He still wore his breeches, and when she fumbled to unfasten them, he caught hold of her hands. A strained chuckle came from deep in his chest. “Patience. Else this will be over too swiftly.”
He lay down alongside Ellie and idly stroked her, his fingers gliding down her arm, then over her hips and breasts, while skirting the one place that burned the most for him. Was it wicked to wish that he would touch her there? She wanted to ask him, but couldn’t quite formulate the words. Surely such a request was far too indecorous for a lady …
Lowering his mouth to her breasts, he suckled each one in turn, his teeth lightly nipping while she sighed with pleasure. She combed her fingers through the tumbled strands of his hair. How novel to gaze down at his dark head ministering to her bare bosom. The lust he provoked in her transcended all rules of propriety.
No wonder young ladies were warned to avoid ne’er-do-wells. What woman could resist the allure of such an accomplished lover?
The thought aroused a forbidden thrill in her. The Demon Prince was her lover now. Her sinfully perfect lover.
Then Ellie forgot all else when at last he moved his hand lower and delved into her private folds with small, teasing strokes. She caught a ragged gasp at the unfamiliarity of a man’s touch where none had ever been. He took the time to kiss her face, to whisper her name, to tell her how beautiful she was, while he continued to play with her.
As his exploration grew bolder, she felt so overcome by desire that she hid her face in the lee of his neck. The enticing caress of his fingers absorbed all of her awareness. Awash in wanton delight, she could hear the rhythmic wet sounds of his stroking and her own shuddery breaths. He pressed ever deeper, and she parted her legs, her hips moving fluidly, without conscious directive. She simply had to assuage this torturous hunger inside her, and she strained against his hand, panting, moaning for surcease. It came in a startling rush of blissful waves that coursed through her body, leaving her limp and spent and marvelously gratified.
She had a vague awareness of Damien leaving her for a moment as he stripped off his breeches. As he lay back down to gather her into his arms, Ellie clung weakly to him. It felt utterly decadent to lie flesh to flesh with him. Against her thigh lay his male member, thick and long and hot. She was still stunned by the climactic intensity that he had wrought in her—and aware that he had not yet derived the same enjoyment for himself.
He placed his hand between her legs again, his finger sliding up inside her, stroking deeply and causing another small echo of paradise almost as an afterthought. Laying his brow against hers, he whispered, “Ellie … this is where I want to be.”
She quivered with readiness. “Yes.”
Immediately, he brought himself over her and began to press into her body. She knew intuitively to tilt up her hips and spread her legs to accommodate his entry. Then a sharp inner pinch caught her unawares, and she hissed out a breath even as Damien fully sheathed himself within her.
He went still, his fingers tenderly lifting a lock of hair from her face, his gaze searching hers. His voice deep and husky, he said, “Darling, I’ve hurt you. Forgive me?”
Darling. A soft outpouring of emotion flowed from her heart. Ellie was too enthralled to examine it closely. No doubt he’d whispered sweet nothings into the ears of scores of women. Yet that was in the past. Right here and now, his green-gray eyes shone with a fierce fire—all for her. How had she ever thought him cold and cruel?
A tremulous smile curved her lips. “Oh, Damien … you feel perfect.” She realized it was true; a radiant sense of fullness had replaced the momentary discomfort. Moving sinuously beneath him, she yearned to satisfy him as much as he’d done her. “Tell me, how may I please you?”
As she swirled her hips, he groaned, his face taut with sensual gratification. “That,” he muttered. “That’s how.”
The outside world faded away as they kissed and caressed. There was only the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms. He moved inside her with an unhurried friction that reawakened her desires. She relished the heaviness of his weight over her, the way he filled her completely. Bracing his hands on either side of her, he rode her slowly at first, then with ever-increasing vigor. Passion surged in her again, and she closed her eyes, the better to savor it. Her hands flitted over him, sliding down his back, feeling the slickness of his skin.
Now that Ellie knew the joy that lay just beyond her reach, she strained to achieve it, arching herself up to meet his rhythmic thrusts. He responded by driving harder and deeper into her, and when the tension finally broke in a deluge of ecstasy, she cried out from the beauty of it. A moment later, he gave a long groan, his muscles rigid as a series of shudders convulsed his entire body.
He settled heavily atop her, his swift breaths fanning her hair. Against her breasts, she could feel his thundering heartbeat begin to slow. With the easing of her own excitement, a lovely lassitude spread through every part of Ellie’s body and she drifted in a state of perfect contentment. So this was lovemaking. It was indescribably wonderful, amazingly blissful.
How had she ever thought to live without it?
A measure of lucidity returned to her at once. She would have to live without it, Ellie reminded herself. There was only this one night to savor. Tomorrow, they would start the journey back to London. Damien would return to his gambling club, and she would finally have her cottage in the country, her haven from the demands of others, where she could work in peace and quiet on her book.
But she didn’t want to think about the future just yet. Not while she lay in the arms of the Demon Prince.
With a muffled thump, a log settled on the hearth. She opened her eyes to see the familiar canopy overhead, the green hangings on the bedposts, the curving stone walls of the tower. The high windows showed darkness, though it could not be much beyond twilight. The entire evening lay ahead like a gift from the heavens.
Would they do it again? Oh, she did hope so. But perhaps not quite yet. She had been raised a lady, after all, and she did not want him to think her too debauched.
Damien shifted his weight from her, and she turned her head on the pillow to see him gazing at her. The lamp on the bedside table cast a warm glow over his tousled black hair and the harshly masculine angles of his face. His expression held a cocky satisfaction that she knew he richly deserved.
That giddy softness spilled from her heart again. Ellie was surprised to feel somewhat shy, considering the intimacy they’d just shared. How foolish of her. She had loved every transcendent moment of lovemaking. Nothing in her life had ever felt better than being with Damien like this.
She tenderly brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen onto his brow. “I fear, sir, that you’ve made a very wicked woman of me.”
He grinned at her, then stretched lazily like a powerful jungle cat, one of his hands resting possessively at her waist. “As you’ll recall, I was merely fulfilling the parameters of your … compensation.”
“And quite satisfactorily, too.” He made her so happy that she could not help bantering. “I have been thoroughly ravished. You have earned your reputation as a rake extraordinaire. It’s no wonder you’re known as the Demon Prince.”
At that, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly in a secretive look. His smile acquired a sardonic twist. And as he glanced away, Ellie was left to wonder what exactly she’d said to wreak the change in his mood.