"If this is your idea of a jest, my lady, I am not amused."
Lottie jerked up her head to find Hayden standing a few feet away, his face veiled in shadows.
Chapter 17
How was I to bear the secret shame of my surrender?
HAYDEN HAD STRIPPED AWAY BOTH HIS FINERY and the civilized veneer it provided. He wore no coat or waistcoat and his rumpled cravat hung loose around his throat. His hair was wild, his eyes even wilder. As he came striding out of the shadows, Lottie jerked her hand away from the piano.
"It's a bit late to play the innocent, don't you think?" He stopped near enough for her to smell the mingled scents of danger and sea air. "I just looked in on Allegra. She's sleeping like a babe."
Lottie stole another look at the piano keys, torn between terror and wonder. "Sh-sh-she is?"
"Yes, she is. And I already know you can play so you may as well confess that it was you playing that piece." His eyes narrowed to frosty slits. "Unless, of course, you're going to try to convince me that there really is a ghost."
Lottie glanced at the portrait over the mantel. For once, Justine didn't seem to be laughing at her, but with her. Her violet eyes sparkled in the moonlight as if the two of them shared a secret only a woman could know — a secret she was urging Lottie to keep. Was it possible they were no longer rivals, but allies? Had Justine brought both her and Hayden to this place for a reason?
Curiously emboldened by the notion, Lottie faced Hayden. "The way you went running out of here tonight when Allegra was playing, I would have sworn you were the one being pursued by a ghost."
"The ghost of my own folly perhaps. I should have known better than to set foot in this accursed room."
"Yet here you are again," Lottie said softly, taking a step toward him.
He eyed her warily, the downward flick of his gaze taking in her tumbled curls, the worn folds of her nightdress, her bare feet. "Only because you played a cruel and heartless trick. Just why was that, Lottie? Didn't you think the disappointment I saw in my daughter's eyes tonight was punishment enough for me?"
Lottie shook her head. "I wasn't seeking to punish you."
He raked a hand through his hair. "Then why in the bloody hell did you lure me here?"
Moonlight bathed the rugged planes of Hayden's face in its alabaster light as he gazed down at her, no longer able to hide his helpless hunger. Lottie had wondered what she might do if he ever looked at her like that again and now she knew.
"For this," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands and drawing his lips down to hers. Her kiss entreated him to drink deeply of the tenderness she had to offer. It was a heady brew, intoxicating them both with its sweetness.
"Oh, hell," he muttered against her lips. "You're feeling sorry for me again, aren't you?"
"Isn't that why you married me?" Lottie pressed her lips to the muscular column of his throat, savoring the warm, salty taste of his skin. "Because I'd gotten myself into a terrible scrape and you felt sorry for me?"
He twined his fingers through her hair and gently tugged, forcing her to meet his fierce gaze. "I married you because I couldn't bear the thought of another man making you his mistress… putting his hands on you… touching you the way I wanted to touch you."
His confession sent a primal thrill coursing through her. "Show me," she whispered.
Sweeping the smoky velvet of his tongue through her mouth, Hayden wrapped one arm around her hips and lifted her, bearing her backward until they came up against the piano. Swiping the stick away, he brought the lid crashing down, then set her atop it.
Lottie rested her small hands on his broad shoulders to steady herself, but she could do nothing to ease the ragged rhythm of her breathing. At last there were no servants, no Harriet, no Allegra to come between them. Even Justine had retreated to the shadows, leaving the two of them all alone with the moon.
Hayden gently enfolded her in his arms. For the moment he seemed content just to breathe in her sighs and nuzzle the downy skin of her throat. As the tip of his tongue traced the delicate curve of her earlobe, then delved into its sensitive shell, Lottie gasped, her knees falling apart of their own accord. He stepped between them, growling deep in his throat as he filled his hands with the softness of her breasts. He rubbed the calloused pads of his thumbs over her nipples through the worn cotton of her nightdress, sending a rush of sensation through her womb.
Adrift in a sea of delight, she barely felt him ease the nightdress from her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his heated gaze.
"Oh, Lottie, sweet Lottie," he said thickly, gazing down at her in the moonlight. "I've been dreaming of this moment since that first night in Mayfair."
Before she could absorb the wonder of that confession, he bent his dark head to her breasts, glazing first one nipple, then the other, with the nectar from their kiss. Any shyness she might have felt was banished by his boldness as he teased one of the throbbing nubs with his tongue, then drew it into his mouth, suckling deep and hard. This time the rush of sensation melted from her womb to the aching hollow between her legs.
When she tried to press them together to soothe that torturous tickle, her husband's hips were there, hard and unyielding, giving her no choice but to wrap her legs around him.
Hayden shuddered, fearing Lottie's innocent ardor was going to be his undoing. He leaned away from her, allowing himself a moment just to drink in the sight of her. She looked like a wanton angel with her eyes half shuttered with desire, her hair tumbled around her flushed cheeks, both her lips and her naked breasts glistening from his kisses.
"Lovely Lottie," he whispered, touching a hand to her hair. "I tried so hard to convince myself you were still a child, but I knew in my heart that you were a woman. All woman."
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he slipped his other hand beneath her nightdress, breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving that she did not sleep in drawers. His hand glided past her knee, to the downy satin of her thigh, then higher until the very tips of his fingers brushed the silky triangle of curls at the juncture of her thighs.
Her eyes drifted shut. Her chest hitched, her breath coming hard and fast. No longer able to temper his need with restraint, Hayden laid her back on the piano, shoving the skirt of her nightdress to her waist.
She was golden everywhere — gold-tipped lashes, golden skin, golden curls, both above… and below. His hungry gaze lingered there, the pace of his own breath quickening. He wanted nothing more than to sift his fingers through their gossamer softness, to search for a pearl even more priceless than gold.
Watching her face, he breached those nether curls with one finger, groaning at what he found. She was already wet for him, both inside and out. It was all he could do in that moment not to unfasten the front flap of his straining trousers and plunge deep into her melting core. But the shadows of delight dancing across her flushed cheeks captivated him, coaxed him to delay his own pleasure so he might linger over hers.
He stroked between those dusky petals until she began to writhe beneath his hand. Gently circling the sensitive bud sheltered by their folds with the pad of his thumb, he leaned over and touched his mouth to her ear. "Tell me, angel — do you taste as heavenly as you look?"
Lottie's eyes flew open, but Hayden was already cupping her rump in his big, warm hands, already dragging her to the very edge of the piano, where she would be completely at his mercy. Nothing Laura and Diana had told her had prepared her for the sight of her husband's dark head poised between her legs, for the delicious shock of his mouth pressing against that forbidden place she'd barely even dared to touch with her hand.
This is madness, Lottie thought wildly. To be lying atop a piano in the moonlight with her nightdress tangled around her waist, writhing beneath the mouth of a man who refused to offer her love, but gave freely of this devastating delight. In that moment, she was almost less afraid that he'd murdered his first wife than that she no longer cared if he had.
With each wanton flick of his tongue, pleasure course
d through her, dark and sweet and fulsome. She tangled her fingers in the rough silk of Hayden's hair as he made music on her with his mouth, drawing her as taut as any piano string. As that exquisite melody neared a crescendo, she arched against him, fearing she might snap altogether.
At the precise moment she began to spasm against his mouth, he slid his longest finger deep inside of her, sending her over the cliff and into a dazzling freefall. But he was there to catch her in his strong arms, to gather her against his chest and soothe her uncontrollable shivering with tender caresses and wordless endearments.
"For a minute there," he murmured against her hair, "I was afraid you were going to scream the way you did that night in Allegra's room."
Still breathless, she hid her flushed face against his throat. "For a minute there, so was I."
Capturing her mouth in a deep, drugging kiss, he lifted her and carried her to the divan. He settled her against the sateen cushions before dragging off her nightdress and tossing it to the floor. Although there was something undeniably wicked and thrilling about being naked while her husband was still fully clothed, Lottie was starved for the warmth of his flesh against hers. She tore at the studs of his shirt, parting the linen until they were skin to skin, heart to heart.
Hayden squeezed his eyes shut, thinking he would never feel anything as exquisite as the plush softness of Lottie's naked breasts against his chest. At least that's what he believed until that bold little hand of hers drifted down to cup the bulging front of his trousers.
As Hayden's hips rocked hard against her hand, Lottie's insatiable curiosity quickly shifted to wonder. When he had claimed he had only his name to offer her, he had lied. She stroked the rigid shaft beneath the thin layer of doeskin, tracing its generous outline with two fingers. A ghost might have his heart, but she would have the rest of him.
With a strangled groan, he bore her back against the divan, reaching between them to unfasten his trousers. A cloud drifted over the moon, sending shadows spilling over them. As he covered her, Lottie opened her arms and her legs, embracing both the darkness and him. He rubbed himself against her, bathing his rigid length in the luscious honey he had teased from her body.
Lottie moaned, dazed with delight. As far as she was concerned, he could have continued that maddening assault on her senses all night, but on the very next stroke, he shifted the angle of his hips, sliding deep inside of her.
Based on what Diana and Laura had told her, she knew Hayden had done everything in his power and more to make her ready to receive him. But there was no preparing for this. Her fingernails dug into the sweat-slicked muscles of his upper back. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but not before a distressed squeak escaped.
Still buried deep within her, Hayden froze, his powerful body held in check.
"Don't stop!" Lottie cried, struggling to blink away her tears of pain before he could see them.
"You've been more than generous to me. Now it's time for you to take your pleasure."
"Thank you, Carlotta," he replied solemnly, even as his shoulders shook beneath her hands. He surprised her by planting a tender kiss on the tip of her nose. "That's very noble and self-sacrificing of you. I'll strive not to make the unpleasantness last any longer than necessary."
Bracing his palms against the divan to support his upper body, he began to glide in and out of her in long, hypnotic strokes. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lottie began to shiver with reaction. There was still the fullness, the tightness, the burning, but the pain was beginning to melt into something else. Something magical. Something extraordinary.
She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment his pleasure became her own. She just knew that one minute she was holding herself as stiff as a board in a desperate attempt not to shy away from him and the next her hips were arching up to meet him, urging him deeper.
"Have you had enough unpleasantness?" he murmured, his own voice none too steady. "Shall I stop now?"
"No," she moaned, clutching at the rigid muscles of his upper arms. "Never."
"Why, you insatiable little vixen! And to think, I once assured Ned that I had enough stamina to satisfy you."
Lottie dared to open her eyes then, dared to tangle her fingers in his hair and boldly drag his lips down to hers. "Then prove it."
He covered her mouth with his own, welcoming the challenge with an upward thrust of his hips that made her gasp. His hard masculine weight pinned her to the divan until there was nowhere for her to go but deeper into the cushions, nowhere for him to go but even deeper inside of her. If the melody he had played on her body with his mouth was an exquisite nocturne, then this was a thundering rhapsody, irresistible in its power and its passion. It seemed to go on and on, building to one majestic crescendo after another. When he added an unexpected grace note by reaching between them and touching her, Lottie shuddered beneath his clever fingers, rapture rocking her to her very core.
Squeezed in a vise of raw delight, Hayden felt the last of his own control crumble. As he buried himself to the hilt in his wife's willing young body, ecstasy came roaring through him in a relentless tide, sweeping away the past and all of its ghosts.
* * *
"Laura and Diana were right," Lottie murmured, her cheek pillowed against Hayden's chest and one leg thrown possessively over his thigh.
"About what?"
She twirled a sweat-dampened coil of chest hair around her finger. "They told me that it would go much easier on me if you made me ready to receive you first."
A deep chuckle reverberated through his chest. "They made it sound as if I was going to be paying you a social call."
Lottie giggled. "Perhaps we should have had Giles announce you." She deepened her voice to mimic the butler's dour inflections. "Lady Oakleigh is ready to receive you now, my lord. If you'll step into the music room and remove all of your clothing, you'll find her waiting on the divan."
"Sounds like a delectable prospect to me. If you'll hang on, I'll ring for him." The muscles in Hayden's chest rippled as he stretched one arm over his head, pretending to reach for the tasseled bellpull that dangled over the harp.
Lottie rolled over on top of him and snatched at his arm, squealing in protest. "Don't you dare! I can just see Mrs. Cadaver"— she winced— "I mean Mrs. Cavendish sneering down her long nose at us. If she caught us in such shocking disarray, she'd probably send Meggie in to dust us."
"And what would be the harm in that?" Hayden cupped her bottom in his hands, a wicked glint lighting his eye. "I can think of several clever uses for a feather duster."
"I dare say you can, my lord. But so can I."
As Hayden felt her soft curls, still damp with his seed, brush his swelling staff, he groaned aloud — half in pain, half in pleasure. Ned need have no fears about his stamina where his lusty little wife was concerned. All she had to do was look at him with those luminous blue eyes of hers and he was cocked and ready to fire again. And that didn't even take into account what the maddening gyrations of her rump were doing to him.
He swirled his tongue over her kiss-swollen lips, his breath growing short. "So tell me — what else did your aunt and sister tell you to prepare you for your duties in the marriage bed?"
"Well…" she replied thoughtfully, giving him a sultry look from beneath her gold-tipped lashes, "they warned me that there were some husbands so uncontrollable in their lusts, so savage in their appetites, that they would fall upon their wives like rutting beasts, seeking only to satisfy themselves."
"How horrendous." Hayden felt his lips slant into a devilish grin. "But just for a little while," he suggested, closing his hands around her waist and sliding out from under her so that she lay sprawled on her stomach among the soft cushions of the divan, "why don't we pretend that I'm exactly that sort of husband?"
As he rose up on his knees behind her, sliding a cushion beneath her hips, Lottie gazed at him over her shoulder, her eyes widening and her own breath quickening. "I suppose I could bear it if I must. I would never wish
to shirk my wifely obligations."
"Nor I my husbandly duties." As Hayden pressed himself deep inside of her, she whimpered with delight, her fingernails digging into the divan. "Just close your eyes, angel," he murmured. "It will be over before you know it."
* * *
Through the skylight Hayden could see wispy pink clouds drifting across a canvas that was slowly shifting from slate to blue. Ignoring Lottie's drowsy protests, he tugged the voluminous folds of her nightdress over her head, then gathered her into his arms. She curled her arms around his neck without opening her eyes, her tousled curls tickling his nose. Unlike Justine, she didn't favor heavy floral scents. Instead, her clean, soapy scent mingled with the lingering musk of their loving, intoxicating him with each breath he took.
Although Hayden's first instinct was to carry Lottie to his chamber, his bed, he forced himself to turn toward the east wing. If he tucked her into his sprawling four-poster, he would only end up making love to her again. And again. He'd already been entirely too greedy in his attentions. All that remained of his wife's innocence were a few rusty stains on both of their thighs. Her ravished body needed time to recover from their passionate couplings.
He would inform Meggie that her mistress was not to be disturbed. As soon as she showed signs of stirring, he would have a hot bath sent to her chamber. An image of Lottie sitting in a brass tub with her golden curls pinned atop her head and her golden breasts glistening with moisture flashed through his head, making his loins quicken anew. Hayden swore, cursing his own noble intentions.
As he carried Lottie into her bedchamber and tucked her beneath the blankets, her large yellow tomcat glared at him accusingly from the foot of the bed.
"You needn't look so outraged," Hayden whispered. "I dare say you've done your share of prowling in your day. And without benefit of matrimony."
Mr. Wiggles was nowhere in sight, but as Hayden was settling an extra quilt over Lottie, Mirabella came skittering out from under the bed. With one of those inexplicable bursts of energy so common to baby cats, she dashed across the bed, then made three wild circuits of the room before bounding up on the rosewood writing desk in the corner.