“Yes,” he told her gently as he came toward her. The signs of humor that had played upon his face a moment earlier had now been replaced by something more serious. “This is the evidence of the desire that I feel for you, Lucy.”
Her eyes returned to the swollen flesh, only to discover that her concerns had now been replaced by wonder and awe. Leaning forward, she tried to take a closer look while William in turn remained perfectly still, apparently not caring in the least that his wife was giving him a thorough inspection. Wondering what it might feel like, Lucy eyed her husband warily as she edged a little closer to where he stood. “Would you mind terribly if I”—she paused as she considered how best to ask but then gave up on all hope for propriety and decided on complete candor instead—“touch it?”
An odd expression settled upon William’s face, and Lucy immediately regretted how brazen she’d just been. In truth, she was quite appalled by herself. But when she opened her mouth to apologize, William quickly cut her off, saying, “Lucy, if you’re so brave on our first intimate encounter, then I dare say that our future together looks most promising.” With his eyes locked on hers, he reached for her hand and placed it upon him.
He was softer than she’d expected, and for a moment she simply ran her fingers gently across him, but when she heard him draw a ragged breath and looked up to find that his eyes were squeezed shut—a look of intense pleasure upon his face—she took courage and closed her fingers around him.
William’s eyes flew open, and she thought for a moment that she might have hurt him somehow, but rather than turn away from her, he placed his own hand over hers, guiding it back and forth until she became accustomed to the motion.
“Enough,” he suddenly muttered as he pulled away from her. He must have seen the startled expression in her eyes, for he followed his brusque remark with a warm smile. “If you keep touching me like that, I’ll only spend myself in your hand, Lucy, and I’ve no intention of letting that happen.” And then he surprised her by pushing her backward against the mattress, and crawling up between her legs while he kissed his way along her inner thighs.
Lucy held her breath for what seemed like an eternity. Of all the sinful things they’d done so far, this was by far the most illicit. Reaching down, she tried to block access with her hand. William paused, raised his head, and stared up at her, arching an eyebrow in question.
“You . . . you . . .” she stammered, “you can’t do that. It’s completely inappropriate behavior, perhaps even illegal come to think of it.”
He offered her a cheeky grin. “If it is, then I am about to commit a felony.” And then he simply lifted her hand ever so gently, bowed his head, and licked her—one long heavenly lick that sent shivers scurrying across her skin as liquid heat pooled between her thighs. It felt divine, and, though it was probably beyond aberrant, Lucy was powerless to stop it. All she could do was stretch back and enjoy it.
He licked her again, and her h*ps rose to meet him. She felt that same aching need begin to build and knew that she was once again restless for more. If this would send her plummeting straight to the pits of hell, then so be it. She was damned if she cared.
Lifting his head, William moved his body forward until he was resting directly above her. His breath was heavy, the muscles in his arms straining as he held himself suspended. “This is bound to hurt a little,” he murmured, “but it will be over quickly. I promise.” Settling himself between her legs, he then eased forward slowly.
Lucy felt herself tense but caught his gaze, and as she held it, began to relax, for he was telling her not with words but with his eyes that this would work—that it would be all right. As if to reassure her even further, he gave her all the time that she needed in order to adjust to the new sensation. And then he kissed her, plundering her mouth as he drove her to the brink of madness—to a place where she forgot what he’d just told her, to a place where all thoughts of pain vanished and only bliss existed. She flinched momentarily as he buried himself deep inside her, a sharp pain tearing itself through her until she feared she might be ripped apart. But then it passed, and whatever sounds of protest that she might have made were swallowed by their kiss.
He moved out a little, and she instinctively gripped his shoulders in an attempt to bring him back against her. Without hesitation, he obliged her, kissing her a moment longer. Then, raising himself above her once more, he looked her straight in the eye and said, “Move with me, Lucy.” And she did. Wrapping her legs around him, she followed his lead until she found herself moving in perfect time to his rhythm.
Heavenly—absolutely heavenly.
“God, you’re beautiful,” William muttered before lowering his head against her breast to flick his tongue against her nipple.
Feeling the same tingling heat from earlier begin to build once more, Lucy clung to him more tightly than before. “William…” His name was faint upon her breath, and yet he seemed to know precisely how to respond. Picking up pace, he plunged harder and deeper until she felt the first ripple of pleasure tickling her insides. Another followed swiftly after, and then she shattered as she cried out his name.
With one last forceful push, William let out a guttural groan before dropping his head against her chest. He remained quite still for a while after—his breath hot against her skin—before turning his head to place a reverent kiss upon each breast.
“That was . . . far beyond any of my wildest expectations,” she whispered a short while later when they both lay wrapped in each other’s arms.
“Mine too,” he told her, adding a tender kiss to the top of her head.
“Perhaps we can do this more often?”
William offered her a mischievous smile. “We can do it as often as you like, love—preferably several times a day.”
“Heavens!”
“Indeed.” He turned on his side and began trailing his fingers over her hip. “But right now, there’s a ballroom full of guests downstairs, and since you’ve claimed a headache, I believe it falls on my shoulders to return to them as host.”
“Dear me, I’d completely forgotten.”
“But perhaps later…after they’ve all gone?” He leaned forward and gently kissed her.
“If I’m asleep,” she said, already eager for him to return so he could ravish her once more, “wake me.”
“I promise,” he said as he chuckled, climbed from the bed, and began to retrieve his clothes. “But until then, I suggest that you try and rest, for it promises to be a very long night indeed.” And then he sent her a wink that she feared would likely melt her heart, but as he left her with the promise that he would soon return, her soul felt heavy with the burden of the secret she was now forced to keep from him. The man who’d killed her parents was not only a guest in her own home but had deliberately sought her out, threatening the people she cared about most.
Settling back against her pillow, she drew the covers up to her chin and stared back at the darkness surrounding the bed. Whatever the assassin’s plan might be, she had to try and fight him if she hoped to remain at William’s side. Forcing back the fear and allowing her six-year-long hatred for the man to settle in its place, she made her decision. Tomorrow she would find a suitable weapon. One thing was certain, he’d already taken so much more from her than she’d ever been willing to give.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Only a numbing silence surrounded her, as if perhaps her ears had been filled with water. Her feet felt wet and cold, and as she looked down at them, she realized that the ground she stood on was covered in blood. Bending forward, she glanced at the reflection that stared back at her, only to discover that it was that of a child—a younger version of herself.
She gasped then and drew back, her eyes roaming across the vast expanse of emptiness that stretched to infinity around her. There was nothing but her; not a tree or a bird could be seen. She had no idea how she’d gotten there, but she knew that she had to find a way back home. Mama and Papa would be worried about her. But there was so much blood…it was deeper now, almost reaching the hem of her nightgown. With a deep breath, she stepped forward and began to walk, and as she did, buildings began to rise on either side of her until she found herself once again in that awful alley, a scream splitting the silence as a masked stranger appeared before her. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice dark and menacing.
Swallowing hard, she tried to stop herself from glancing up at the window that she knew she’d find, but her eyes failed to listen, and as she turned to look she saw her mother’s body turn around and fall away.
“You can’t stop me, Lucy. I’m cleverer than you,” the assassin warned as he took a step closer.
She wanted to kill him, but with what? She had no weapon, and besides, she’d promised her mother she’d run. So she did—or tried to at least, but as she spun away and started to move the blood held her back. It was up to her h*ps now, making it impossible for her to do anything but wade forward. She looked back and saw that he was gaining on her with an efficiency that she couldn’t possibly match, and as she readied herself to start swimming, she felt the chilling grip of his hands upon her shoulders pushing her down. She wanted to scream but found that she couldn’t. Something was covering her mouth…his hand perhaps? In desperation, she started to struggle, but his weight was holding her firmly in place, and she suddenly realized with startling clarity that the dream was gone and that this was real—her very own living nightmare.
“Open your eyes, Lucy,” he told her in a dangerously low whisper. “You and I need to have a little talk.”
Terror sprang to life once more, but she still couldn’t scream—not against the cold, leather-clad hand that was firmly pressed against her mouth. She dared not look, and yet she feared what he might do if she disobeyed him, so she slowly opened her eyes into two small slits, only to come face to face with that awful, black mask—one side shrouded in darkness, the other reflecting the flickering flame of the oil lamp that stood next to her bed. She did scream then, her eyes widening against her own volition as she tried to free her arms from his grasp, but his hand muffled whatever sound she made, and his weight, as he straddled her, made all her attempts at escape futile.
“I must admit that I’m a bit disappointed, Lucy.” His voice was leering and cold. She couldn’t recognize it, but then again she suspected that he’d probably intended it that way. “I was hoping for a bit of a warmer welcome after such a long time. At least I was gallant enough to send you a present.”
Lucy blinked. Was this it then? Was she about to be brutally murdered while her husband, his family, and guests enjoyed their Champagne downstairs? It hardly seemed fair, and though she’d no desire for this brute of a man to see her cry, she simply couldn’t hold back the hot tears that threatened behind her eyes.
“Oh, Lucy,” he said, “don’t be so sad. It’s not over yet, you know. However, I did come here to give you your final warning.” He stroked his thumb slowly across her cheek—a caress that would have seemed loving had it come from anyone else. Gooseflesh rose along her arms in response to it. “You aroused too much attention today with your little episode out there on the moor; we can’t risk that happening again. As it is, you’re lucky that you were able to explain the matter away, but the minute I begin to feel threatened…Well, you read my note, but just in case William and Lady Ridgewood aren’t enough of an incentive for you to keep quiet, I thought I should warn you that I may decide to take my anger out on someone else entirely…on little Vanessa perhaps.”