Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(79)

Kathleen darted through rows of vehicles used for different purposes; carts, wagons, a light brougham, a landau with a folding top, a phaeton, a hooded barouche for summer. Devon circled around and intercepted her beside the family coach, a huge, stately carriage that could only be pulled by six horses. It had been designed as a symbol of power and prestige, with the Ravenel family crest – a trio of black ravens on a white and gold shield – painted on the sides.

Halting abruptly, Kathleen stared at him through the semidarkness.

Taking the overskirt from her, Devon dropped it to the floor, and pinned her against the side of the carriage.

“My riding skirt,” she exclaimed in dismay. “You’ll ruin it.”

Devon laughed. “You were never going to wear it anyway.” He began to unbutton her riding jacket, while she sputtered helplessly.

Quieting her with his mouth, he worked on the row of buttons. After the sides of the jacket had listed open, he took the back of her head in his hand and kissed her more deeply, ravishing her mouth, and she responded as if she couldn’t help herself. A shock of pleasure went through him as he felt her suck on his tongue with a shy little tug, and he reached out to fumble for the ring-shaped handle of the carriage door.

Realizing what he intended, Kathleen said dazedly, “You can’t.”

Devon was more aroused and entertained than he’d ever been in his life. After tugging the door open, he pulled down the folding step. “Here’s your choice: Out here, in full view of anyone who passes by… or in the carriage, where no one will see.”

She blinked and stared at him, seeming aghast. But there was no concealing the deep flush of excitement on her face.

“Out here, then,” he said ruthlessly, and reached for the waist of her trousers.

Galvanized into action, Kathleen turned with a whimper and climbed into the carriage.

Devon followed instantly.

The interior of the carriage was luxuriously upholstered in leather and velvet, with lacquered wood inlays, compartments for crystal glasses and wine, and silk-fringed damask curtains framing the windows. At first it was too dark to see, but as Devon’s vision adjusted, he could make out the pale gleam of Kathleen’s skin.

She moved uncertainly, sliding her arms from the riding jacket as he tugged it from her. He reached around her to unfasten the buttons at the back of her blouse, and felt her trembling. Catching the rim of her ear with his teeth, he nipped softly and soothed the little spot with the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” he whispered. “Until then, we’ll play by my rules.” He moved to strip off his coat with a grimace of effort. He pressed a smile against her head as he felt her hands go to the knot of his necktie.

With each item of clothing that was removed… waistcoat… braces… shirt… he began to seriously question how much self-control he would be able to maintain. As he eased Kathleen against his naked chest, she slid her arms around him, her palms coming to rest on the backs of his shoulders. Groaning, he kissed his way down to the upper curves of her breasts, where the corset had plumped them high. He longed to unhook her corset, but there was no way he would be able to refasten it in the darkness.

Searching beneath the loosened waist of her trousers, he found the drawstring of the silk drawers, and untied it with a deft tug. Kathleen stiffened, but she didn’t protest as he eased the garments down past her hips, and lower still, with hands that weren’t quite steady. His heart pounded in a rough staccato, every muscle knotted with craving. Kneeling on the carpeted floor, he ran his palms over the smooth curves of her bare hips and along the length of her thighs. The riding trousers had caught on her short boots, bunching at her ankles. Thanks to the gussets on the sides, and the leather tabs at the backs, the boots were easily removed. After divesting her of the trousers, Devon drew a single fingertip along the line of her clenched thighs.

“Open for me,” he whispered.

She didn’t.

Sympathetic and tenderly amused, Devon caressed her legs with patient hands. “Don’t be shy. There’s no part of you that isn’t beautiful.” His hand moved to the top of her thighs, his thumb sliding into the delicate fleece of curls. “Let me kiss you here,” he coaxed. “Just once.”

“Oh, God… no.” She reached down and weakly pushed his hand away. “It’s a sin.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it feels like one,” she managed to say.

He laughed quietly and pulled her hips farther toward him with a decisiveness that drew a little yelp from her. “In that case… I never sin by half measures.”

Chapter 25

“We’re both going to hell,” Kathleen said as he kissed along the seam of her clenched thighs.

“I’ve always assumed I would.” Devon didn’t sound at all troubled by the prospect.

She squirmed in violated modesty, wondering wildly how she had come to find herself half naked in a carriage with him. The air was cold, the velvet upholstery chilled beneath her bare bottom, and his warm hands and mouth raised gooseflesh all over her body.

His hands gripped her legs, not forcing them apart, only squeezing the locked muscles, and it felt so deliriously good that she moaned in despair. His thumbs worked into the top of the soft triangle, kneading gently. A quivery pleasure awakened at the pit of her stomach, and she let him tease her legs apart. She was lost, unable to think, all her senses focused on the kisses that pressed along her inner thigh, straying where the skin was thin and sensitive. Her knees jerked as he reached the tender seam of closed lips and licked upward, parting them with his tongue. He stopped just before he reached the soft bud at the top. Panting, she reached for his head and slid her fingers into his hair, uncertain whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer. He nibbled the edge of an outer fold, his breath hot and tickling. He searched slowly, never quite reaching the place that ached the most.