Twice Fallen (5 page)

It was one devil of a standard that held women to a
different mode of conduct than men, but then again, supposed gentlemen had created the rules. Males wanted their wives chaste and their mistresses wicked. They controlled the world, but could not comfort a crying child. They often cared more for their precious horses than their loyal servants.…

In general, her opinion of them was not all that high.

Then again, she had adored her father. Her brother, Jonathan, the current Earl of Augustine, was also—while not conventional in any way—a good man and very much in love with his new wife.

But, his emancipated views on females aside, Jonathan would disapprove, Lily suspected, of her current whereabouts, because while her intentions had been to just snatch a moment or two of solitude, here she was in a very compromising situation.

Again.

There was a bend in the steps and for a moment Lord Damien faltered, obviously a bit off balance, his breath going in with an audible hiss. This time she was the one who tightened her grip, steadying him, but he recovered almost as soon as it happened, murmuring, “Thank you. We should be there soon. If I remember correctly, this comes out in what is now the wine cellar.”

He was right, she discovered a few minutes later as he pushed open a door with a shriek of protesting hinges and the cool air washed over them, the lamp in his hand illuminating racks of dusty bottles, the light bouncing eerily off the shadowed corners.

It was odd, but when he let go of her hand, Lily experienced a small, unexpected sense of loss, and now that it was over, she began to shake.

He reached for his coat and cravat, plucking them from the bundle in her arms. “As escapes go, that one was not too taxing. I feel confident Pondsworth’s butler locks the cellar, but that should not be a problem without a broken key jammed inside it. All we have to do now is make it upstairs undetected.”

“Is
that
all?” Lily was so relieved to be out of the passageway her mortification over being in such a state of undress didn’t even matter. Besides, it wasn’t as if Lord Damien was even paying attention, which was actually a bit insulting. She’d never thought of herself as a raving beauty, but men did notice her, though apparently retired spies were immune. She slipped her gown on with a little difficulty as she was used to having help from her maid, and, as when she was taking it off, he came to her aid in a way that spoke of more than a scandalous passing experience with the process, swiftly buttoning up the back.

“My breeches and boots are a little dusty,” he said as casually as if their recent escapade was an everyday occurrence, tying his cravat. “Otherwise, how did I fare?”

There was a cobweb or two in his thick, wavy hair and without thinking Lily reached up to brush them away. The strands were unexpectedly soft and silky in contrast to the masculine cast of his fine features and his lean, athletic build. The gesture was surprisingly intimate and the immediacy of it startled her.

“Quite presentable now, my lord,” she managed to say, practically snatching her hand back.

“You have a smudge.” He cupped her chin and rubbed the pad of his thumb lazily over the curve of her cheekbone. “There, that’s done the trick.”

“Thank you.” An odd tingle went through her.

His brows snapped together. “Are you quite all right? You’re trembling.”

“I told you, I don’t like enclosed spaces.”

“Yes, you did tell me exactly that. You did very well, Lady Lillian.”

For a split second they gazed at each other and there was a second treacherous inner quiver she had not felt since the debacle her first season and her bungled elopement. Then he smiled and dropped his hand. “Let’s see how quickly I can confound Pondsworth’s butler into thinking he left the door to the precious wine cellar unlocked, shall we?”

True to his word, Lord Damien was a wizard when not thwarted by errant weakened keys stuck in diabolical locks, and moments later they were climbing the steps to freedom. It wasn’t too difficult to find her way back to the ballroom—the sound led her there even from the back corridor. Her companion in her little adventure went the opposite direction, and she assumed he was going to do as he declared earlier and quietly take his leave.

When Lily slipped back into the ballroom, she was triumphant for about five entire seconds until a restraining hand snagged her arm. “Do you mind telling me just where the devil you’ve been?”

She glanced up into the normally composed face of her cousin James, saw the concern in his blue eyes, and swallowed a sigh. She might have known that if the ever diligent duchess had noticed her gone, James would be even more likely to have noticed it. He was, after all, her official male chaperone for the evening.

“It is terribly crowded in here and I needed a moment to myself.” That was true enough. Later she might tell him the entire story, for if she trusted anyone on this earth, it was James. But for now, she wanted to find a dance partner before the duchess returned. She surreptitiously checked to see if her gown was properly in place—it seemed to be—and lifted her chin. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Long enough,” he disagreed grimly. “I don’t care for a crush myself, but you have a habit of disappearing, and people are watching you.”

“That’s hardly a revelation,” she said a little hoarsely, which actually wasn’t surprising because her mouth was quite dry. He was right, of course. James was frequently right. Not self-righteous, thank goodness, because that she would not be able to take, but just logical in a levelheaded way that made her wonder if he ever was impulsive and reckless.

“It shouldn’t be,” James agreed, sweeping his gaze out over the crowd, sophisticated and handsome in his evening wear, nonchalant on the surface, even though she knew he was truly worried about her. “You know how judgmental society is, Lily.”

She collected her best serene smile. “There’s nothing to judge. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go find Vivian. I promised I would help her avoid Lord Gregory.”

“Females,” he muttered under his breath.

Lily gave him a considering look. “I would suggest you waltz with her instead, but you’ve been remarkably aloof when it comes to marriageable young ladies lately.
I have noticed you suddenly will only dance with the elderly matrons.”

“I think,” her cousin said with a bland smile, “I see Miss Lacrosse trying to blend into a potted plant in the north corner of the room. When you are ready to depart, I will be in the card room.”

Thoughtfully, Lily watched him shoulder his way through the crowd, before she shook off any speculation over her cousin’s unusual reticence and started to make her way toward Vivian.

Considering the narrowly avoided disaster of this evening so far, hiding in the corner seemed an excellent idea.

T

It wasn’t precisely a statement, nor was it a question, because, quite frankly, he was never sure what to expect from Regina. Her beautiful eyes opened, and she arched beneath his naked body, her nails lightly raking up his back, his hand between her open legs. Her tumbled mane of glossy dark hair framed ivory shoulders and her skin had taken on a certain glow he recognized as sexual arousal. “Do it again,” she ordered, her voice husky in the shrouded bedchamber.

He obliged, at the same time sliding two fingers deeply inside her vaginal passage and slowly circling his thumb between the satin-soft folds of her cleft. Her inner muscles clenched around the carnal invasion and she quivered in response to the intimate caress, her taut nipples tantalizingly brushing his chest.

Oh yes, she liked it. She was wet, hot, ready for him.…

It was his turn to let out a low groan as her hand slid between them and her slender fingers wrapped around
his erect cock and squeezed. “Roll over on your back,” she whispered. “Now let
me
pleasure
you
.”

The imperious tone of her voice wasn’t exactly a surprise because he’d learned a month ago when their affair started she was a woman who liked to have equal control—if not
more
control—in bed. It was intriguing, but then again, Regina Daudet was intriguing in every way. Not just beautiful and sophisticated, she was an enigma with her artistic bent and determined independence.

Unlike any woman he’d ever met. Gifted, moody, tempestuous…

They were opposites in almost every aspect of their lives except she had an attachment to the aristocracy more tenuous than his. He might be first cousin to an earl, but that granted him no title, and as Jonathan’s new wife was pregnant, he doubted he would remain heir apparent for long. Regina was the daughter of a viscount, but she was illegitimate and therefore not all that acceptable in the exalted circles of the
haut ton
.

It would be stupid not to oblige her and follow orders because he’d never had such an adventurous lover, and he had no doubt whatever happened next he would enjoy immensely. He lifted off of her luscious body and shifted so he lay on his back. Her bedroom was as eclectic as she was, with brilliant saffron bed hangings and an exotic print that was clearly Oriental in origin in the coverlet on the bed, the sheets a soft fabric he didn’t recognize. On the walls was a bizarre mixture of art, some of it a bit terrifying, including a mask from Africa that showed a contorted human face. It hung right next to what he could swear was an original Gainsborough portrait
of what appeared to be Regina herself as a child, even then scandalously dressed in breeches and a loose white shirt instead of the usual dainty, embroidered dress one might expect on the daughter of a viscount.

“Look at this.” She lounged next to him, her lithe body propped on one elbow, one hand sensually traveling up the length of his rigid erection until a teasing fingertip wiped a bead of semen from the tip. Putting the finger to her mouth, she smiled and sucked the iridescent droplet away. “Can I have more?”

He might have answered if he was able, but at that moment she leaned forward and slowly licked the crest of his cock and the acute pleasure of it shuddered through him. “Regina…”

There was no answer, her mouth sliding downward, taking him as far as she could to the back of her throat, his body going taut with the bombarding rapture to every nerve ending. James ran his fingers through her hair, reveling in the softness, her scent, her unabashed sexuality, the sight of her long dark hair spilled over his thighs almost as erotic as what she was doing to him.

Sybaritic bliss.

Decadent heaven.

Splendor unsurpassed…

He might have been able to come up with other flowery descriptions of the sheer sensation of how she skillfully stroked his testicles and at the same time swirled her tongue in an intoxicating dance over the head of his cock, but he could hardly put two words together, much less three, and instead he lay there and did his best to keep his control.

It was a losing battle he decided moments later and he
tugged her head upward, with a murmured apology abruptly rolled her over, and spread her legs with his knees. The breath left his lungs as he slid inside her, impaling her fully. He was so close he almost ejaculated right then and there and he stilled, briefly closing his eyes.

“Yes… yes.” She arched a little, taking him a fraction deeper.

James kissed her then, with ardent insistence because he’d learned already she preferred passion to tenderness, and her hands were frantic already at the small of his back, urging him to move, her pelvis lifting into his withdrawal and thrust in a perfect match to his carnal rhythm.

Just when he was sure the thread of his control had dwindled to the point where he couldn’t hold on a second longer, he felt the first tremor of her climax. Perfectly in character, Regina was not shy about her enjoyment of sexual release. She gripped his buttocks and held him deep, and the way her inner muscles contracted was more than enough to send him into oblivion, the journey one of exquisite pleasure, as if he was being tossed past the stars and moon. Her cry mingled with his low groan.

They lay panting together in the aftermath, her slender legs still locked around his waist, her voluptuous breasts soft against his chest. It had been as dynamically charged as ever, and though he doubted she would appreciate the gesture, he lifted his head and gently kissed her eyelids until they fluttered open. He murmured, “I wouldn’t mind staying in this position for… well, the rest of my life would do.”

Wrong thing to say, you damn fool.
…

If he could take it back, he would immediately. To a woman of Regina’s stalwart self-reliance he should have known better than to mention any length of time in regard to their relationship, much less bungle so badly as to use the phrase
rest of my life
.

Luckily, and perhaps it was just in the aftermath of such explosive pleasure—or it had been for him at least—she was apparently in a forgiving mood, for she merely smiled with languorous charm. “I like the feel of you inside me, too.”

A tricky moment successfully passed. The amount of relief he felt would need to be analyzed later because this was not the time or place, not while he was still in her arms, his weight braced above her, their bodies still intimately joined. “We are in accord, then.” He grinned to make the statement sound light and careless, his emotions just the opposite.

“I think we are.” Regina stretched her arms playfully over her head, pressing her breasts more firmly against him. The evocative scent of lovemaking mingled with the hint of some exotic flower he hadn’t been able to place in her perfume. With one foot she lazily rubbed the back of his calf. “Hmm. I feel wonderful, Mr. Bourne.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” James responded softly, his erection still rigid despite his recent release. His fingers feathered down the silken skin of her shoulder. “You do feel wonderful. I would be more than happy to demonstrate again the sincerity of my words if you will give me a few moments.”