Sinful (Hot Regency Romance Novella) (6 page)

“She was sleeping and I didn’t wake her. I
took great care to ensure she didn’t see me. I know she is mine,
Sal. I wanted to see if you would finally tell me. But you won’t,
will you? You’d have let me go to my death without knowing I had a
child.” He shoved back his hair. It was loose and fell in
coal-black waves around his shoulders. “Why, Sal?”

She hugged herself. This was a mistake. She
should never have put herself in a position where she was alone
with him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, not with his hands, but
his pain was stabbing her like blades. She’d never seen any man
look as wounded, as tortured, as Lyan did now.

“I—I have finally given her some
happiness.”

“I know why, Sally. You don’t want her to
blame you for the choices you made. When did you know you were
pregnant? Before or after you ran away?”

“After,” she whispered.

“You could have found me. I would have
married you then. If there had been the three of us—Hades, Sal, you
wouldn’t have had to work your fingers to the bone as a seamstress.
You would have known I would always be there for you.”

“I didn’t know that then,” she cried. “All I
knew was what I’d seen of my mother and men. I vowed I would never
be dependent on anyone.”

“I would never have been that kind of man. I
know exactly what sort of men your mother turned to, hoping one
would look after her. You had to know I wasn’t like that.”

“She thought all of those men were good men,
too.”

He recoiled, lips cranking down in an
expression of stunned hurt. But he only revealed the emotion for a
moment. A heartbeat later, he showed nothing on his face but
distant coolness. “You cost me ten years, Sal. Ten years I could
have had with my child.”

“I suppose you hate me.” A daft statement—she
had seen the raw pain in his eyes. How could he not hate her for
her terrible underestimation of his character? And he must despise
her for keeping Rose a secret. Any decent, noble, responsible man
would.

“What are you going to do to me, Lyan, after
we find Lady Maryanne? Do you plan to hand me over to Cavell? That
would give you what you must want—revenge.” It was too late for her
to run now. This time, she had no escape.

He jerked back. Anger flared in his green
eyes. “Sally. I suspect Cavell might have plotted to murder his
ward.”

Again, she’d accused him of being cruel, and
it had obviously struck him like a blow.

She had to get away from him. Guilt was
crushing her, and every word seemed to hurt him more.

She moved away, trying to scuttle across the
bed. But he grasped her wrist and pulled her back with such force,
she squeaked in shock and fell across the mattress. She landed on
her stomach. Facing him. “I would never betray you. Understand
that.” He cursed and let go of her. “If Cavell conspired to kill
his ward, I intend to see him pay.”

“He is too powerful, Lyan.” Bitterness gave
her voice a sharp edge. Cavell had no good in him. Despite his
higher station, he was exactly like the men of the stews who had
lured in her mother with the promise of a bed and a marriage, and
instead gave her only fists and fear. On this there was no
doubt—she was correct about Lord Cavell.

“Men like him are never punished,” she said
grimly. “He’ll be free.” The consequences of that sent a rush of
icy panic to her heart. “Did you tell him I helped Maryanne?”

“I didn’t. But he suspected you of helping
her. He knew she had appointments with you.” His eyes narrowed.
“Cavell seems to think you would have helped Maryanne to spite him.
But I have no idea what he was talking about.”

Spite
him. She would like to see him
rot in Newgate for what he had done to her. For the way he had left
Rose with fears and nightmares.

Lyan was watching her carefully. “What are
you afraid of, Sal? Cavell?”

Yes, she was terrified. But she couldn’t let
him see it. That was how she had always survived—by never allowing
anyone to see her fear. What would happen if she were honest with
Lyan? If he knew Cavell had threatened Rose the night that fiend
had broken into her home…

She knew what Lyan would do. He was not so
far removed from the boy he had once been, ready to mete out
ruthless justice when necessary. She would wager that as a Runner,
he had adhered to the law, but that he had never entirely
vanquished the scrappy boy who knew how to fight—and win.

But no matter what the outcome of a fight or
a duel, Lyan would have to face the law. And then—

“Maryanne is likely a married woman by now,”
Lyan said, breaking into her racing thoughts. “She will have her
fortune, and she can buy herself a lot of protection with money.
How will you protect yourself, Sally?”

“I—I will do it somehow.” She would do it to
protect Rose. She would protect Rose, in every way and at any cost.
But she was afraid. Cavell was capable of anything. If she were to
make a mistake, if he were to kill her, Rose would be vulnerable.
She had no doubt that Cavell, the evil blackguard, would take
delight in hurting Rose too.

“There is a solution. Marry me.” Lyan smiled,
and he had never looked more devastating, more tempting. “Again. As
your husband, I can keep you safe. Cavell—for all his threats, his
bluster, and his arrogance—would never try to hurt you if he knew
I’d rip him apart over it.”

“You are going to be an
earl
. You
can’t rip men apart.” She’d been right. Of course, she had. Ten
years had not changed Lyan’s nature.

It made her realize how foolish she had been
to run because she feared Lyan might turn into someone quite
different, the instant he had her in his power. He would always be
protective and noble.

He lifted his brow in a way that warned her
he could do anything. “Oh? You just told me peers are above the
law.”

Her heart thudded in fear. “Not for killing
other peers.” He couldn’t throw his life away over her. It was bad
enough that he had waited for her. He couldn’t give her any more.
She could not live with that.

“It was Cavell, wasn’t it?” Low and
dangerous, his voice made her shiver. “He was the man who attacked
you. Who made you afraid.” He had never spoken like this. Not so
terrifyingly.

Good heavens, could he read minds? How had he
known? He had looked into her eyes, and he had seen everything she
was trying to hide, without her even needing to say a word.
“No.”

“Don’t lie. It’s a damned pointless thing for
you to do.”

She had to give him the truth. “All right, it
was. But you cannot do anything rash. Or foolish.”

“I don’t do foolish things, Sal. I wouldn’t
have survived so long if I did.”

“You just proved that isn’t true, Lyan.” She
managed a wry smile. “You just asked me to marry you.”

“Not foolish. But I’d like to postpone the
moment when you tell me ‘no.’” He rolled her onto her back. He
leaned over her, his golden-tanned body supported above hers on his
powerful arms. Her breath caught. Then he grasped the neckline of
her nightgown and pulled the sides apart. Three buttons popped
free, sprang off, and clattered to the floor. Her gown sagged to
reveal her bosom.

Lyan captured her mouth, all the while
stroking her breasts, cupping them with his hands, brushing his
fingers over her nipples until they hardened and flushed
reddish-pink. Her nipples became amazingly sensitive, aching and
tingling.

He made her feel scorching inside, all fluid
and languorous and sensual. Like molten gold. Estelle had once seen
a jeweler turn the metal to liquid—had seen it splash, scalding
hot, into a mold. That was how she wanted to feel—like something
strong and solid that could turn to fluid with all this heat.
Something that could be changed, reshaped, transformed into
something new.

How could he kiss her like this when he knew
she would turn him down?

“I—I want you,” she whispered. “But
marriage…I can’t…I have to say—”

“Shh.”

He began to lift her sensible flannel
nightdress up her legs. She couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t walk
away from him now. One night. She would allow herself that. One
glorious night to remember forever.

* * * * * * * * *

Chapter Five

“For ten years, Sally, I’ve dreamed of doing
this to you.”

Lyan’s hands brought her nightgown to her
waist and let it stop. Firelight revealed a surprisingly vulnerable
look in his emerald eyes. Despite scars, rugged features, lines
bracketing his mouth, he barely looked older at this moment than he
had ten years ago.

Then he bent and kissed her bare stomach,
jolting her out of her wide-eyed exploration of his handsome,
grizzled face.

Shock and delight exploded inside her as his
lips trailed lower, as his mouth lightly nuzzled her nether curls.
“W-what are you doing?”

“Tasting you.”

“There? But surely—”

Her words died as he licked her there,
touching the intriguing little bump that was so sensitive, that
could make her want to cry out when it was stroked. In ten years of
loneliness, she had done the forbidden thing: she’d touched her
quim when she’d thought of Lyan.

But her touches had been nothing to the wet,
raspy sensation of his tongue. One rough, dazzling stroke of it,
and she almost arched off the bed. She tried not to scream. She
fought not to make a loud, scandalous noise, but she couldn’t help
it.

A deep, intense moan escaped her lips.

Then another, more frantic, as he rose from
her private place to grin at her. “I can’t believe the most
fearless woman I know is nervous about showing her pleasure.”

“I—” She closed her eyes. “It’s hard to be
fearless in this.”

“I know. Right now, I’m afraid.”

Before she could ask what he could possibly
fear, he bent again and suckled. Then stopped, making her want to
shriek in frustration. Her hands were in fists, her feet curled
against the stunning, almost frightening, sensations. But when they
stopped, she wanted more.

“I’m afraid I won’t please you, Sally. Afraid
you don’t want me. Afraid that after dreaming of this for ten
years, I’ll make a hash of it.”

“You aren’t,” she managed.

“Your clit seems to like it. It’s plump and
hard, and sweetly red. Like a delectable candy for me to suck.”

Clit. It was a new word for a part of her
body she had explored furtively for ten years. She had been
determined to be independent. In this, though, it was much more fun
to have a partner.

She held her breath, captivated by the sight
as he lowered himself and kissed between her legs once more. He
stretched out on the bed, long, muscular, lean. His hands skimmed
up her inner thighs, his fingertips teasing her skim. It made her
giggle softly, which in turn brought a beautiful smile to his
lips.

He cupped her bottom, tilted her hips up to
his mouth, then devoured her. It was spectacular. Intimate. He
nuzzled her mysterious clit, sending waves of ecstasy through her.
She arched her back, her bottom balanced on her hands. She bit her
lip. Closed her eyes. Fell back on the bed, reached out for the
sheets, and clung to them.

Heavens, it was good. He proved to have
remarkable skill. It was as if he knew what she felt, knew what
would give her astonishing pleasure. His lips brushed over her
nether lips. Her hands tightened on the sheets. She had her eyes
shut, overwhelmed by this. He was tasting her in a place that she’d
never dreamed a man would kiss. He could smell the earthy scent of
her there, and she was growing very wet, so the ripe smell was
stronger.

But he didn’t seem to mind. He flicked his
tongue around her clit. Then he pulled her close to his face to
thrust his tongue inside.

She almost scrambled back up to the headboard
in surprise.

She’d had no idea a man would do that…with
his tongue.

He drew back long enough to urge, “Relax,”
before putting his lips to her clit and suckling until she could
see stars. Brilliant stars, whirling before her eyes.

She tried to pull away from him, but he
wouldn’t let her. Her hips began to move against his mouth.
Pleasure mounted and she wanted it and she worked for it.

His tongue drove her mad, her body thrust
relentlessly, and the tension grew so strong, she finally screamed.
So loud she feared the whole inn could hear—

Pleasure exploded inside her, and the waves
radiated all over her, like ripples in a pond. She floated in
ecstasy, hands clutching, lips letting out whimpering sobs.

Lyan moved over her, kissed her with a hot,
luscious, open mouth. She tasted salt, earthiness, and realized
they were sharing her intimate flavors. A blush burned on her
cheeks.

Slowly, she opened her eyes to see Lyan’s
soft smile. “Now, what did you dream of doing to me?”

“I want to do something I wouldn’t have
dreamed of doing,” she whispered. “Before now, I didn’t know what
to dream of. I didn’t know what intimacy truly was.”

He cocked his head. “What is it?”

She didn’t quite know how to express it with
words, but she tried. “It’s sharing. Sharing this. Exploring
together. Trusting.” She took a deep breath. Her arms and legs felt
heavy and lazy, but she wriggled out from under him. Holding his
gaze, she smiled slowly. “Now you lie down and I will do something
to you.”

The moment her lips coasted along his bare
thigh, Lyan almost exploded in an orgasm. Her mouth was soft as
silk, sweetly hot. He watched her, enthralled. Her hair was free of
its many pins and spilled in waves down her back. Even though she
was slender, she had a womanly figure now. Her shoulders were
sloping but broad, her breasts rounded and mature. The swell of her
hips invited his hands to stroke, as did her curvaceous bottom, but
she was too far away from him to cuddle.