Desire

Chapter Fifteen

Much to Brynn’s relief, her maid’s dilemma was easily solved. A generous dowry proved to be an excellent inducement for the girl’s lover to propose, while his employer was soon persuaded to give permission for the marriage. Meg expressed delight with the arrangement, for she wished to give her child a name. And her enthusiasm satisfied Brynn that the girl wasn’t being forced into an unwanted union.

Brynn’s own dilemma proved far harder to solve. In the days that followed, she found herself more conflicted than ever as she struggled against the desire assailing her heart. Lucian was wooing her, there was no doubt about it. What had started as a war of wills had become a determined courtship, simmering with a fiery passion that set their cold-blooded arrangement aflame.

Her husband, Brynn continued to discover, was a man of smoldering sexuality and insatiable appetites. He made love with tender savagery, for all his sophistication, but his untamed wildness only drove her to greater heights of rapture. And even in a mansion filled with retainers, he found opportunities for intimacy. He had only to touch her and the burning heat of his passion drove all thoughts of caution and curses from her mind.

It wasn’t solely Lucian’s passion, however, that she found so difficult to resist. Nor was it even his charm or warmth or tenderness. It was that he showed a genuine interest in her-quizzing her about her likes and dislikes, probing her dreams, asking about her life before meeting him.

Brynn tried to keep their conversations brief and unemotional, but Lucian’s perceptiveness was as keen as his persistence. He obviously noticed her melancholy when she spoke of her family, especially her youngest brother.

“You miss Theo, don’t you?” he asked one morning as they lay in bed after an exhausting bout of obligatory lovemaking.

She nodded. The frantic gaiety of the Little Season had begun in earnest, and she found plenty to occupy her time. And yet she did miss Theo dreadfully. “Very much.”

“Would you like to pay him a visit?”

Her eyes widened as she lifted her head from Lucian’s shoulder. “I would like that more than anything, Lucian. And I expect Theo will enjoy a holiday from his studies. His letters are cheerful enough, but I suspect he feels a trifle homesick.”

“I will be happy to escort you. We can travel next week, if you wish.”

“That would be wonderful,” Brynn exclaimed, sitting up in bed. “I shall write his masters at once.”

Lucian laughed at her eagerness, and yet he was true to his word, escorting her to see Theo at school. Harrow was located only a short drive north of London, and after collecting the boy, they made a full day of it, enjoying an alfresco luncheon in Epping Forest and returning to wander the shops on the narrow, winding streets of Harrow Hill and take tea.

Lucian acted the ideal host, putting himself out to make the experience delightful for both Brynn and Theo, and neither of them wanted it to end. Theo was especially awed by Lucian, hanging on his every word, and more than once expressed gratitude for enabling him to attend school.

“Don’t thank me,” Lucian replied easily. “It was your sister’s doing.”

Theo sent Brynn a solemn look. “I know, sir. And I will try to prove myself worthy of her sacrifice.”

Seeing Lucian wince, Brynn swiftly changed the subject.

The visit, however, proved to be the happiest time for Brynn since her marriage. And once she had reassured herself that her young brother was content, her heart was lighter than it had been in months.

Even when they returned to London, her feeling of optimism remained. She no longer felt quite so lonely-how could she be when Lucian was determined to act the ideal husband? And she was busier than ever. She still frequently assisted Raven with her upcoming nuptials. And with London’s fall social season in full cry, the Earl and Countess of Wycliff were much in demand. They chose from among a dozen invitations each night-fetes and balls, soirees and musicales, routs and supper parties. Lucian provided Brynn escort to any function she expressed a desire to attend.

“You don’t have to accompany me every evening,” she remarked once when they were perusing the stack of invitations.

He smiled. “Ah, but I do, love. As your husband, it is my duty to protect you from the lecherous males of our fair city.”

Despite his teasing tone, she felt her heart sink to be reminded of the danger. “I don’t wish to deprive you of your usual pursuits,” she replied, skirting the issue.

“You aren’t.”

“You don’t miss your Hellfire League entertainments?”

“How could I miss such mundane affairs when I have my delectable wife to keep me satisfied?”

She doubted those wicked affairs were at all mundane, although she didn’t press the point. Yet while Brynn disliked admitting it, she was secretly glad Lucian had deferred his participation in the League. She didn’t care to think of him consorting with the brand of females that entertained the dissolute Hellfire members.

Indeed, she didn’t care to think of Lucian with any other female at all. He was as much sought after by the fairer sex as she was by her suitors, and dismayingly, Brynn found herself stung by jealousy each time a beautiful woman looked at him with lust. She was aware that Lucian had had any number of mistresses before his marriage, and she found herself scanning the crowds, wondering which ones had enjoyed his patronage.

Yet he seemed interested only in her for the moment, and wholly dedicated to his pledge of getting her with child.

A week following their visit to Harrow, Brynn was sitting at her dressing table, having her hair arranged, for they planned to attend a ball later that evening after dining at home. When she sensed Lucian’s presence, she looked up to find him leaning indolently against the door from her sitting room.

Her heart started beating in that slow, heavy way it did whenever he was near-and accelerated when she saw he wasn’t at all prepared to go to the ball. He wore only a dressing robe of forest green brocade, which clearly told her he had more than dancing till dawn on his mind. He stood there a moment, so handsome that Brynn realized she was forgetting to breathe.

Then, with a brief nod, he summarily dismissed her maid, vexing Brynn somewhat with his presumption.

“Meg was not finished with my hair,” she protested when the girl had scurried from the room.

“She can finish later. I ordered dinner served in your sitting room, and the dishes won’t remain warm for long. Will you join me, love? ”

All he had to do was smile that lazy, entrancing smile, exactly as he was doing now, and Brynn’s vexation melted.

He offered her his hand and escorted her to the adjacent sitting room, where delicious aromas assaulted her senses. The scene was staged for lovers, Brynn realized. A fire burned lazily in the hearth, and the table that had been set up for their repast groaned with sumptuous dishes-braised duck and ragout of veal, tomato aspic, potatoes in Hollandaise sauce, and artichoke hearts, with desserts of Geonese cakes and raspberry cream.

Lucian took it upon himself to serve her, and when they were done, he sat back and eyed Brynn over his wineglass, his gaze lingering brazenly on her bosom.

She felt herself flush at his lascivious look. “Must you ogle me that way?” she said finally. “Every time you look at me, I feel ravished.”

“Perhaps because every time I look at you, I want to ravish you.”

She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Shouldn’t you begin dressing for the ball?”

“My appetite hasn’t been satisfied yet.”

“After that delicious fare, what more could you possibly be hungry for?”

“You, love. I have a vast craving to taste you with the sweets. I’ve been imagining how much I would like to set you on the table, lift your skirts, and bury my head between your thighs.”

Brynn felt her blood heat at the suggestive image. “On the table? You aren’t serious.”

His smile was tantalizing, tempting as sin. “Ah, Brynn, how little you know me.” Leaning forward, Lucian lifted her hand and turned his mouth into her palm.

“Someone could come,” she said breathlessly.

“Someone could,” he agreed. “But I should be allowed to enjoy savoring my wife in private.”

Rising, he crossed the room and locked the door to the hall. Then he cleared most of the dishes from the table to the hearth, leaving the silver bowl of raspberry cream.

“We will be late for the ball,” Brynn said, making one last attempt at being sensible.

“It’s fashionable to be late. Besides, that gown you are wearing is worse than being naked,” Lucian replied, coming to stand behind her chair.

Brynn frowned, knowing her jade, empire-waist gown was elegantly cut but modest as far as evening attire went. “What is wrong with my gown?”

“It’s far too provocative.” Bending, he nuzzled aside her tresses and found her ear, touching it with the tip of his tongue. “I can’t possibly permit you to go out in public dressed like that, looking so lush and tempting. I shall have to remove it.”

He reached down to slide his hands beneath her bodice, caressing her nipples. Brynn arched against his touch wantonly and bit back a moan.

“ Lucian…” she murmured finally.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, nibbling at her ear.

“This is scandalous.”

“No, it isn’t. It is merely your duty, which you’ve neglected outrageously of late, wife. You haven’t properly aroused me today.”

With effort, Brynn opened her dazed eyes. “I think you should be the one to arouse me for a change.”

“I would be more than happy to oblige, love.”

Her heart began to race as he unfastened the hooks at the back of her bodice. Helping her to her feet then, he pushed the fabric off her shoulders, letting her expensive gown slide to the floor. Lucian made short work of her corset and chemise, drawing it over her head, leaving her wearing only stockings and garters and slippers.

The heat of his gaze burned her to the core as he stared at her breasts gleaming pale and bare. Opening his robe, he brought her full against his hardened frame, letting her feel his desire. Brynn shut her eyes, hot tension radiating from her loins in waves as his thick, pulsating member nestled between her thighs.

He didn’t take her, though. Instead he lifted her to the table and pulled the pins from her hair.

“Your hair is incredible… like fire,” he whispered, tangling his fingers in the long tresses, “aflame around you.” Holding her still, he began a hot exploration of the inside of her mouth. His kiss was relentless in its demand, twisting, bruising, insisting, stirring.

Her senses felt dazed as he eased her back upon the table, spreading her thighs for his appreciation. His eyes roamed freely over her, just as his lean, strong hands were doing. For a moment his hands covered her breasts, his palms working her stiffened nipples, but then Lucian drew back.

The curve of his lips was darkly sensual as he dipped his finger into the bowl of raspberry cream, anointing the twin peaks of her breasts standing taut and high. Brynn shivered at the chill sensation, even as the fire of his gaze heated her flesh. His finger dipped again, and he traced a sweet path along her body, painting her navel with the sweet cream, and lower, drenching the lips of her sex. Brynn had to grit her teeth at the warm shock that went through her.

He let his own robe drop to the floor, standing above her, his magnificent body bare. Then, easing his powerful thighs between her spread legs, he bent to lick the cream from her nipples.

Brynn gasped as he suckled the tight, wet crests, feeling pleasure spiking downward toward the pulsing core of her body.

“Delicious,” he murmured, his rasping tongue working his way along her skin. Holding one breast in each hand, he moved his mouth even lower, burying his head between her thighs as he’d threatened earlier.

She went rigid, scarcely believing the incredible sensations as he tasted her. Lucian was so powerful in the way he took control. He licked and savored, setting her nerves awake with each flick of his tongue.

She was whimpering now. The lash of pleasure was almost cruel, the searing wet heat almost unbearable. Desperately she threaded her fingers tightly through his darkly burnished hair and clung to him.

“Lucian…” she pleaded finally, restlessly twisting her head from side to side.

“Not yet, wife. You’re not hot enough. I intend to pleasure you until you beg me to end it.”

“I am hot enough,” she vowed. She was willing to beg him if need be. She was shamelessly willing to do anything he wanted of her.

Lucian wasn’t convinced. He left off savoring her and raised his head to watch her. She looked deliciously wanton, her bare breasts wet from his mouth, her back arching in arousal. Desire pulsed at his groin with a hot, fierce ache.

“I’m not going to take you,” he taunted, “until your body is quivering, until you scream for me to come inside you. Then I’m going to slide into you so deeply, you won’t know where I end and you begin…”

A responsive shudder went through her, but it wasn’t enough for Lucian. He wanted her vibrant and writhing with need for him. He would make her burn for him, make her feel the same fire, suffer the same torment he was feeling.

Slowly he thrust two fingers inside her, and her hips shot upward off the table, sending a jolt of desire surging through his body. When he deliberately stroked her slick bud with his thumb, she groaned.

“Lucian, damn you,” she panted, trying to get closer. “You’re tormenting me.”

“But I want to torment you. Just the way you’ve tormented me of late.” Pressing her thighs wide, he held her still, guiding her hips with purposeful intent as he positioned the cresting head of his erection at her silken entrance.

“Watch while I take you,” he demanded, gazing down at where their bodies joined. Even as he spoke, he sank home into the slick, heated wetness, driving a thready sigh from her. She was wet and fiery hot around him, and so tight he thought he might burst. But he controlled his need with desperate strength. When he withdrew, his swollen shaft glistened with her juices.

Brynn tried to take command then. Her arms locked around his neck, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching at him. Understanding her need, he thrust again, forcing himself deep, dredging a raw moan from deep in her throat.

Her plea was unnecessary; he felt the way she was shaking.

“So beautiful, so wild, so ready for me,” he rasped.

“Now, Lucian… oh God, please…”

Obligingly his intensity quickened, and he drove into her with a ravishing, penetrating rhythm, his own body on fire. He wanted her with a hungry urgency that threatened his sanity.

He clenched his jaw as she arched against him. She was utterly wild and glorious, with her head thrown back, her bare breasts heaving from the force of her panting breaths, so near to orgasm that the slightest friction would push her over the edge.

He braced his legs and plunged into her sleek passage one last time, so deep he could feel the very mouth of her womb.

She did scream then, a high keening pleasure sound that sent a spiking rapture through him. Her frantic cry was taken from her by his kiss as she erupted, her inner muscles convulsing around his erection with a force that nearly made him explode. Lucian shook with triumph as he feverishly ate her mouth that tasted sumptuously like raspberries.

Finally the rippling convulsions slowed.

Long moments later, Brynn came to her senses. Drowsy and replete, she lay sprawled wantonly on the hard table, cool air brushing her overheated skin. Lucian was still buried hard and deep within her, magnificently filling her.

“You didn’t find your pleasure,” she murmured weakly.

His expression was primitively male, sexual and possessive, as he gazed down at her. “Not yet. But the night is still young. We’re going to make each other wild, exhausted, siren.”

“We will miss the ball,” she replied, a drained smile curving her lips.

“Do you really want to go?”

“Not at all.”

It was all the answer Lucian needed. Still impaling her, he lifted her up and strode with her to his bed, his hungry mouth ravaging hers as he bore her down to the soft mattress.

If Lucian’s passion was crumbling her defensive walls bit by bit, Brynn found her heart torn even further a few days later. Before she left to ride in the park with Raven, she stopped by Lucian’s study to bid him farewell. When at his command she bent to kiss him, he handed her a wooden box tied with a green satin ribbon.

“What is this?” she asked curiously.

“A wedding gift. You didn’t care for the emeralds I gave you. I thought perhaps you might like this better.”

Setting her gloves on his desk, she opened the box and found an old parchment inside. “A deed? To… Gwyndar Castle? ”

“One of my properties in Wales. The coastal waters are warm enough that you can swim almost year-round. I’ve signed it over to you.” When Brynn’s expression turned troubled, Lucian scrutinized her. “You don’t seem pleased.”

Wondering if she should answer honestly, she took a deep breath. “I am not pleased that you are trying to buy me, Lucian.”

“Buy you?”

Her eyes met his steadily. “You are so wealthy that you’ve grown accustomed to purchasing whatever you want. But you cannot win me over with extravagant presents. Allegiance cannot be bought.”

His blue eyes grew hooded. “I don’t deny trying to win you over, or that I would like you to be content in our marriage. But you mistake my motive in this instance. I was merely considering what you said about being dependent on me, about how powerless it made you feel. I thought having a residence to call your own would allow you a measure of independence. If you still wish us to go our separate ways once my heir is born, you can retire there and be free of me.”

Brynn stared at him, realizing she had misjudged Lucian once again. Rather than trying to win her affections with expensive gifts, he was offering her at least some small measure of choice for her future.

“I am grateful for your thoughtfulness,” she murmured finally. “Lucian…” She hesitated, trying to determine how to ask the question that had been burning in her mind for days. “If I fulfill my duty, will you allow me to retire to Wales alone?”

“I would want you to remain in London for your confinement since the best doctors are here, but afterward, you may go anywhere you like.”

“And leave our child with you?”

His eyes were unwavering. “Giving up my son is more than I’m prepared to do, Brynn. I would hire the best nurses, of course.”

“Of course,” she murmured more bitterly than she intended. She glanced down at Lucian’s gift, her heart aching at the choice she would have to make… wondering if it really was any choice at all. Could she possibly abandon a child of her flesh?

“What if I were to bear a girl instead of a boy?” she asked finally.

He was silent for a long moment. “Our agreement was for a son, Brynn.”

“So it was.” She closed the box carefully and set it on the desk. “Thank you for your gift.” Giving him a wistful, almost sad smile, she picked up her riding gloves and turned away without another word.

Lucian watched her go, grappling with his own tangled emotions. He no longer felt so adamant about wanting his child to be a son; a daughter might be just as satisfying. And if Brynn bore him a girl, he would have every right to demand that she remain with him until she fulfilled their pact to give him an heir. Admittedly not a selfless sentiment.

She wasn’t entirely mistaken, either, about his motives in gifting her with the castle. Whether consciously or not, he was attempting to buy her contentment. If Brynn no longer felt dependent on him, at his mercy, then she might willingly choose to remain with him.

And God knew, he wanted her to remain. More than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He took a determined breath. Somehow he had to find a way to win Brynn’s heart. Love could bind them together more eternally than any marriage vows. Love could-

Lucian froze, startled by the alien notion that had crept into his thoughts. Love? Was that the name for his affliction? This all-consuming desire for his wife that gnawed at the roots of his being?

There was no question that he was obsessed with Brynn. Cursed or not, her beauty made him ache, her passion drove him mad with wanting. But love?

It had always been an elusive concept for him, yet he was undoubtedly behaving like a man caught in the throes of love. He’d seen two of his friends suffer the same torment. Both Damien and Nick had found passionate love when they least expected it.

He keenly envied the happiness they had found with their wives, Lucian admitted. And he wanted it for himself. For Brynn.

Lucian squeezed his eyes shut. Whether or not he loved her, she was a fever in his blood. He desperately wanted to make her feel the same fever. He wanted to bind her to him with primal need, to brand her soul with the fire that was searing him. And yet…

Opening his eyes, he stared down at the box. Considering her unenthusiastic reaction to his gift, his goal of winning Brynn seemed as far away as ever. And not because of any real incompatibility between them. His greatest enemy was a damned curse he didn’t even believe in.

“Is something troubling you, Brynn?” Raven asked a short while later as they rode together in Hyde Park.

Brynn forced her attention away from her dark thoughts and managed a brief smile of apology. “Forgive me, what were you saying?”

“Nothing of importance. I merely asked if you might like to attend a fair.” She pointed to a handbill nailed to a tree, advertising an upcoming fair to be held in Westminster.

Brynn edged her mount closer so she could read the touted list of entertainments: Jugglers, Puppeteers, Rope Dancers, Gypsy Fortune-tellers- The last words leapt out at her. She frowned, wondering if the band of Gypsies she knew from Cornwall would be performing at the fair. She seemed to remember they were usually in London this time of year…

Brynn drew a slow breath. If Esmerelda truly were here, perhaps she might be able to offer some advice. Perhaps she might even, Brynn reflected hopefully, help explain her dark dreams of Lucian.

Before she could reply, however, Raven gave a faint sigh. “No matter. I don’t suppose Halford would approve of my attending. He has very narrow opinions regarding the conduct of his future duchess, and I doubt a fair would fit into the acceptable category.” Her tone held a perceptible note of disappointment in her betrothed, but then she shook her head. “Still, Halford did loosen his starch enough to agree to my request for the balloon ascension this week.” With a determined smile, Raven spurred her horse on.

Brynn followed, although she cast a glance over her shoulder at the handbill, noting again the dates and location of the fair. If she could manage it, she would try to attend in the hopes that Esmerelda might be found there, for she desperately needed advice about her future with Lucian from someone who knew the deadly history of the Gypsy’s curse.

The curse remained the dark blot on Brynn’s horizon. She had attempted to repress the warnings of her conscience, yet she was brutally reminded of the danger a few days later when Lucian escorted her to the balloon ascension held by the Duke of Halford in honor of his betrothed.

Several brightly colored balloons awaited flight, Brynn saw with delight upon reaching the field on the outskirts of London. Her attention claimed by the spectacle, she accepted Lucian’s assistance from the carriage and was crossing the road on his arm when she heard the sound of galloping hooves. Brynn looked up to see a team of straining horses hurtling directly toward them, apparently out of control.

She froze in her tracks, her mind registering the specter of a driver in a hooded cloak wielding a savage whip.

Lucian, fortunately, didn’t share her paralysis. With a desperate lunge, he shoved Brynn out of the path of the lethal threat and flung himself after her, a bare instant before the coach thundered past.

Both of them lay on the ground stunned, staring after the runaway vehicle.

Lucian recovered first. Uttering a low curse, he climbed to his feet and helped her up. “Are you hurt?” he asked, both his gaze and hands examining her for injuries.

Her face was white as she regarded him numbly.

“You could have been killed,” she whispered, her voice raw.

“Either of us could have been killed,” he replied, his own tone grim. “But it most likely was an accident. A bolting team isn’t uncommon.”

Yet she didn’t believe him, Lucian could see clearly from her petrified expression.

And in truth, he didn’t have total faith in his own reassurances. It wasn’t implausible that someone had just attempted to kill him; in his line of work, he tended to make enemies. But he doubted a centuries-old curse was to blame for the near-fatal accident.

Yet convincing Brynn of that, Lucian reflected darkly, was as unlikely as their ascending to the skies without the assistance of a balloon.