Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

W hile Ethan suspected that Xenia was employing a Fabian tactic, he didn't care. In fact, she was welcome to distract him with kisses whenever she wished. She was only delaying the inevitable: he was going to get to the truth about her past sooner or later. Whatever secret she was hiding terrified her, and he could afford to be patient. Especially when she offered such delightful diversions.

After his idiotic behavior with Canning, he probably didn't deserve the sweetness of her lips against his. Yet Xenia had made his disclosure far less painful than it might have been. She understood him in a way no one had before. He knew that their future would not be without conflict. They would challenge each other and make mistakes, but if it always came back to this—their mouths fused and tongues twined, their bodies pressing to get closer—then he knew everything would be all right.

"I wanted to do this all night." He nuzzled her ear, inhaling her herbal-fresh scent. "Do you know how beautiful you are?"

"It's the dress. Thank you for buying it for me, by the way."

She arched her neck as he kissed his way down the soft column.

"You're welcome, but you're wrong. It's not the dress—it's you , Xenia." He caressed her jaw, gazing into her blinking brown eyes. "If I were asked to describe the perfect woman for me, I would describe you."

He saw that his declaration affected her. She swallowed unsteadily, but her response was teasing.

"Even though I am troublesome?"

"You know very well I like how naughty you are," he said. "Stop fishing for compliments."

She pursed her lips, then that saucy twinkle he loved came into her eyes.

"Speaking of naughty, there is something I would like to try again." She fluttered her lashes at him. "If you don't mind."

"As it happens, I'm in the mood to be accommodating," he drawled. "What do you have in mind?"

His blood simmered when she sank gracefully to her knees. He didn't know how Xenia managed to tap into his deepest fantasies, but their desire was even more intense because of the way it was shared. In the mellow glow of the stable lamps, he saw the flush of arousal on his siren's cheeks as she unfastened his trousers. The fact that she fumbled with the fall made her actions even hotter. By the time she managed to free his cock, he was hard and ready, falling with a slap into her waiting palms.

She used both hands to stroke him. He loved her touch, even though it was torturously gentle.

"I love the way you feel," she breathed. "So hard, big, and vital against my palms."

"You touch me so well, pet," he said huskily. "Do it harder, yes?"

Immediately, she tightened her grip, and pleasure blasted up his spine as she jerked his rod with her little fists. Christ, he loved what a quick study she was. She pumped him while watching his face, her lips parted with concentration, and that image alone was enough to make a drop of seed bead on his dome. Her gaze flitted on the glistening pearl, then back to his face, seeking the sweetest permission.

"Lick it up," he said. "There's a good girl."

She leaned forward and laved his tip. The sight of her tongue swirling around his bulging crown was enough to bring forth another droplet. She took that one too, lapping it up like an eager kitten. He thanked his lucky stars that she had a passion and native talent for fellatio. Time to push her further. He fisted her hair, admiring the fiery ribbons wound around his fingers.

"Did I tell you how much I adore your natural color?" he asked.

"Only about a hundred times this evening." Her smile held a hint of smugness.

"Saucy wench," he admonished. "If you cannot accept a compliment without it going to your head, then I shall give you something else. Open wide for my cock now."

She did, and he pushed his prick through the lush hole of her lips. His spine bowed as her kiss engulfed him, the perfect blend of heat, wetness, and suction. He pulled out and pushed in, this time deeper, savoring the velvet cushion of her tongue.

"Devil and damn, I love your mouth," he growled.

Her hummed reply was muffled by his plunging cock. Her lips formed a tight seal as he plumbed her lush depths, her eyes watering with proof of her effort, her palms quiescent against his bulging thighs. When he tightened his grip in her hair, giving a slight twist, she moaned around her mouthful. Every moment he shared with Xenia made way for new discoveries, new avenues to explore. Their passion was untamed and visceral, erotic beauty in its purest form. This was the connection of his deepest fantasies, and it unleashed a primal urge to mark and claim what belonged to him: his wanton minx and lover…his future wife.

His Xenia. His.

His burgeoning conviction drove him deeper into her kiss. The shining trust in her eyes brought a sting to his. She overwhelmed him: with physical pleasure, yes, but so much more. Emotion surged through him like the finale of Beethoven's Ninth, jubilation that was all the greater for the suffering that went before it. His hips bucked, his cock lodging in his beloved's throat, but her gaze only mirrored his own wild joy.

Being held by her, desired by her, for nothing more than being himself, brought him right to the edge. With his last ounce of self-possession, he tried to pull free…only to feel her hands slide over his arse, holding him in place. Her squeeze signaled a decadent offer that made his vision darken with lust.

"Are you certain, love?" he said harshly. "You have me so lathered up that I will fill up your sweet mouth. I'll come so hard you'll have no choice but to swallow me down."

Her needy moan pushed him past the boundaries of civility and self-control. Grunting, he thrust deeper and deeper still, taking everything she had to give. The climax rumbled through him, and he buried himself in her throat, his stones pulsing against her lips as he exploded. He shouted her name as bliss jetted from him. He came and came, his release so copious that she gagged and sputtered, the lovely music wringing him of his last drop.

Chest heaving, he withdrew, and his heart stuttered at her expression. Her eyes were soft and dreamy, her sinfully red hair tousled by his hand. She looked like a sleepy angel…except for the sheen of his seed on her swollen lips. Astoundingly, he was still hard, and from the way his cock twitched, the road to recovery would be short. In the meantime…

He helped her up and tipped her head back.

Smiling, he said, "Your turn."

"Oh, Ethan." Xenia rocked her head back and forth. "I can't, not again."

She was lying on a waist-high bale, Ethan's jacket buffering her from the prickly straw. Not that she would have noticed it: her nerves were too saturated with pleasure to feel anything else. She was floating, her bones dissolved by too many climaxes to count. Ethan wasn't done, however. He had her legs slung over his muscled shoulders and was eating her pussy with wicked voraciousness.

"You can, pet." Raising his head, he licked his glistening lips. "I want to feel you come again for me."

To punctuate his request, he drove two long digits into her passage. She was so wet that he slid in easily, pressure morphing into pleasurable fullness. She whimpered as he kept her impaled on his touch.

"Feel how you're squeezing me," he said. "This hungry little mouth needs to be fed, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

Her reply came out as a gasp because he'd started stirring his fingers, opening her up to even more sensation. She thought nothing could feel better than what he was doing. Then he proved her wrong by curling his fingers, stroking some exquisite place inside her that set off blissful tremors. He kept doing it, rubbing and rubbing that spot. The climax started at her core, rippling outward in deep, ecstatic waves. Her entire body shook as she came.

"By Jove, you're incomparable," he murmured.

He pulled her up, only to spin her around. With a hand between her shoulder blades, he pushed her down until she was bent over the bale. Her nipples chafed against the straw where it wasn't covered by his coat, but she liked the abrasion. Then she felt his cock nudging her rear crevice, and she liked that friction even more. He gripped her by the hip, holding her steady as he slid his erect length along her crack.

"I can't get enough of you." His tone was deep and guttural. "I wish you could see what I see."

Twisting her head, she gave him a saucy look. "You could describe it to me."

"My cock is dark and engorged, sandwiched by the pale cheeks of your bottom." Lust thickened his voice. "I'm thrusting my shaft against your crack, and your back arches every time I do it. Like you cannot get enough."

"It feels so naughty," she breathed.

He thrust harder, his steely length stimulating forbidden nerves. With each incursion, his bollocks collided with her swollen sex, the weighted smacks rumbling up her spine. The sounds of their mating agitated the horses, who seemed restless, whinnying softly.

"But you like it." Ethan's look was wickedly knowing. "You're drenching me. I think I know what you would love even more."

She felt the wide head of his cock lodge against the entrance of her pussy. He didn't push inside, just teased her by rubbing his tip up and down her slit. Pure want poured through her. She needed to know what it would be like to be fully possessed by him. To hold the man she loved inside her body.

"Do it." She met his gaze, letting him see her desire. "I want you inside me, Ethan."

His pupils flared with arousal. "Not until you and I discuss our future."

Frustration knotted her insides. "There cannot be a future between us."

"Why? Tell me, Xenia. Trust me ."

At the same time, he pushed. Not all the way, just enough for her to feel how huge he was, how his cock would stretch her and fill her and take away the emptiness. Just enough to make her burn even hotter…wait.

Burn. Is something burning?

She straightened, sniffing the air. "Ethan, do you smell that?"

"Yes. Smoke. Something's burning."

Brows drawn, he pulled away, quickly donning his clothes and helping her with hers. A grey haze was filtering into the stables, the horses whinnying and stamping in agitation. Ethan rushed out of the stables with her at his heels. In the far corner of the garden, a blaze lit the night.

"The gazebo," Xenia said in shock.

The structure was engulfed in flames, the cupola flickering like a candle.

"Sound the alarm and alert the others," Ethan ordered.

He was already running toward the inferno.

By morning, all that remained of the gazebo was a charred section of railing. The rest had been reduced to ashes, which blanketed the nearby hedges like dirty snow. On the bright side, they'd managed to contain the damage, and Xenia made note to remind Ethan of that as she approached him. He was speaking with the Hirschfield brothers, the three men surveying the smoldering ruins with somber expressions. Tension was carved into every rigid line of Ethan's lean form, and for once even he had shadows under his eyes.

The Hirschfields nodded politely at her before departing.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting," she began.

"We were done." Ethan looked at her, then raised his brows. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"Would you prefer the good news or the bad news first?"

"There is more bad news?"

Given the situation, she was glad that he was still capable of dry humor.

"Berta left," she said. "She is convinced that Bloody Thom means to destroy the manor and everyone in it. She thinks that the burning of the gazebo was part of the curse—the part where ‘ his cry for justice is like a flame, scorching all with unholy fire.' Nothing I said could dissuade her."

After a pause, Ethan asked, "Do you think it was Bloody Thom behind this?"

"In this instance, no."

"Why not?"

"I can't explain it, other than to say the arson doesn't feel supernatural." She drew her brows together. "I'm not discrediting the notion that Bloody Thom exists, but my instincts tell me that it was a flesh-and-blood foe who set fire to the gazebo."

"As it happens, there is evidence to corroborate your instincts," Ethan said grimly. "The Hirschfield brothers were using the old gamekeeper's cottage to store their equipment, and when they went by today, they saw that someone had taken the supply of linseed oil. They think someone doused the gazebo with the oil to increase its flammability."

"Odds bodkins," Xenia said, eyes wide. "Do they have any idea who did it?"

"No." Ethan's expression was stark. "Last night, I had guards posted at the front and back gates of the manor. They did not see anyone enter or leave the property. Which leads me to an unwelcome conclusion."

"It was someone who was already inside the manor," Xenia said, stunned.

"I cannot think of a more likely explanation. It was around two in the morning when we noticed the fire, which means someone exited the manor, fetched the linseed oil, then set the gazebo on fire."

"Wouldn't the guards have noticed?"

"They are more focused on potential intruders coming in than getting out. And if the culprit is indeed someone currently in the manor, they will have observed the guards' schedule and routine. They could figure out a way to sneak around without being seen."

"Who do you think is responsible? One of the staff…or one of the guests?"

Thinking of Ethan's recent betrayal by those close to him, she felt a spreading chill.

"I have no idea." The ice in his voice conveyed that he, too, was contemplating duplicity. "I sent word to Rawlins. Everyone who was in the manor last night must be treated as a potential suspect—except you, Gigi, and my longtime retainers."

Xenia wondered if Rawlins would agree with Ethan's exceptions. The constable would probably want to interrogate everyone with no exclusions. Dread percolated through her as she thought about him digging into her past. What if he unearthed her connection to her mama?

Should I tell Ethan everything?

Indecision churned her insides as she contemplated telling him the truth: that she was the daughter of Joanna Wardell, the infamous cutthroat dubbed "Lady Jo" because of her elegant beauty and manners, never mind that she would murder you for the right price. Or just for fun. Lady Jo led her roving gang wherever there was a fortune to be had, lurid accounts of her crimes filling the newspapers. Her ability to evade the authorities was legendary.

Would Ethan cast Xenia off because of her family connection? He would have every right to. Strangely, it wasn't his rejection she feared the most but the opposite: if he wanted to protect her, he would be guaranteeing his own doom. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't allow her past to hurt him—that she would run before she let that happen.

Yet how can I run now when he's dealing with a secret nemesis?

As she gnawed on her lip, debating her options, Brunswick approached.

"My lord," the butler said. "You have visitors."

"Rawlins and his men are here already?" Ethan said. "That was quick."

"It is not the constable."

Xenia didn't understand Brunswick's guarded look.

Ethan cocked his head. "Who is it, then?"

"The Marquess and Marchioness of Blackwood, sir, and the Earl of Manderly." The butler inhaled like a messenger who didn't wish to deliver the news. "And Lord Owen as well."