Lady Gone Wicked (Wicked Secrets)(54)

She was watching him like a rabbit eyes a hawk.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” he said. “Forgive me if I refrain.”

She twisted her fingers together. “I hear you are to be congratulated as well. A marquessate is quite an honor.”

And there it was.

She was understandably angry at him for keeping such a secret from her. But that couldn’t be enough to throw him over, could it? There must be more.

“Who told you?”

Her gaze slid away. “Does it matter?”

“I think it does. You see, very few people know, and even fewer have cause to tell you. I can’t imagine my father, for example, paying you a visit.” He studied her carefully. “But Montrose knew, and he had reason to share the information with you in the worst possible light. I believe it was he who told you, because not even a fortnight ago, he asked me not to tell you. He intended to woo you himself and didn’t enjoy competition from a younger marquess.”

She tilted her head. “And you agreed?”

How to explain?

“At first…I thought he would make you happy.” Nick tried to sort through the mess he had created. “Montrose and I are friends. He is the one who petitioned the Prince Regent on my behalf. It still isn’t certain, and I didn’t think you cared enough about a title for it to matter whether you knew about the possibility or not.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Montrose is a good man, but I shall be forced to break his nose if he ever looks at you again.”

She closed her eyes and her head tilted back. The long line of her throat quivered as she swallowed. “Nick, he and I are engaged to be married. My father has signed the contract. It is done and nothing can change that now. You must leave me alone. Go away, please.”

Her words infuriated him. He took a step toward her, and she retreated, which angered him all the more.

“Go away?” he repeated. He smiled coldly. “Do you know, I’ve heard those words before. I don’t ever want to hear them again. Do not tell me to go away, Adelaide. I will not let you send me packing like an unwanted dog.”

He stalked her as he spoke, and she retreated until her back pressed against the papered wall and she could go no farther. He laid a hand on either side of her head, caging her in, allowing her no place to hide.

“Am I unwanted, Adelaide?”

She stared up at him miserably. “Please don’t make me answer.”

Ah, but he would. He would use every weapon at his disposal to force those words from her lips. He craved them like an opium addict craved smoke.

He leaned in. “What of my kisses? Are my kisses unwanted, angel?”

He did not wait for her answer. He caught her to him, lifted her in his arms, pinned her soft body between the hardness of his chest and the wall. His mouth crushed hers, and he reveled in the way she instantly opened for him. In this, at least, she could not deny she wanted him.

She ran her tongue along the curve of his bottom lip. He nipped at hers in response, and she made a small, irresistible hum of arousal.

Lifting his lips from hers, he whispered, “You will never want his kisses like you want mine. Tell me.”

She said nothing but rained wet kisses down his neck until she reached his collarbone, where she sucked gently. Nick groaned and took her mouth again, stroking deep, as though he could suck the words from her tongue. He thrust his hips forward to anchor her more firmly against the wall, giving his hands freedom to explore.

He traced the collar of her dress, tossed aside the lacy fichu that hid her from him, and yanked the silken fabric down. One pale, perfect breast gleamed in the lamp’s glow. He traced his finger around and around her rosy nipple until it was hard as a pearl. She squirmed in his arms.

“You want my touch. Say it.” Again he circled the needy tip, torturing her even as he tortured himself.

She gasped and wiggled, urging his fingers to go where she wanted them. But she still did not speak.

“You will not tell me? But your breasts betray you. Look how they tighten with want. So greedy for me.” He flicked her nipple, then soothed it with the heat of his lips, sucking it deep into his mouth until she cried out, the needy sound only inflaming him further.

He reached down to lift her skirts, his fingers tracing her silken stockings until he reached soft skin. He moved his hand even higher, and her thigh trembled. Finally, he reached the damp curls at the core of her. “And here, angel. You cannot hide how much you want me here.”

She grasped his shoulders for support as he dragged a finger along the seam of her, relishing the glorious wet heat. Her hips rocked against his hand, demanding more, but he kept his touch light.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Am I unwanted?”

His fingers stilled as he waited for her answer.

A second ticked by. Then another.

He broke first, pressing a finger through her folds, unable to resist the feel of her.

But she followed.

“No…no,” she cried. “God help me, I want you.”

At last.

He sank to his knees and pushed up her skirt. “Hold this.”

She complied, her hands trembling as they grasped the fabric. He lifted one of her legs, pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee before he hooked it over his shoulder. She was open to him now, and he took full advantage.

He kissed her there, where she was so wet and willing and lovely that he thought he might die from it. He savored the taste of her on his tongue as he pressed farther into her softness. One hand still grasping her skirts, her other hand thrust into his hair, cupping the back of his head, holding him firmly against her.