Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

As they entered the silent domicile and made their way up the stairs to the ducal bedchamber, Evangeline's thoughts were churning. She was determined not to give in too easily, but every part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and just let herself feel. It was a slippery slope, giving in to the powerful emotions swirling inside, because beyond this chamber and their agreement, she had no claim on him.

This was about sexual congress, she reminded herself firmly.

Maybe if she said it enough, she would believe it. He was not someone she should esteem, or think of as charming, smart, kind, sweet, or funny. She should only be concerned about his prowess in the bedroom and his talents therein. She should not think of his touch as one she yearned for beyond physical desire. She should not equate it with what she saw in his expressive gaze either. The unguarded affection. The open regard. The fact that he liked being with her, and she liked being with him. Or the fact that he made her feel heard. Seen. Valued.

Because none of that mattered. This was an emotionless, fun, pleasurable diversion.

As they'd agreed. Because it categorically couldn't be anything more…

Dear God, was it more?

The sudden loss of control over her feelings and questionable motivations made her feel dizzy. Squashing down every other emotion but lust, Evangeline regarded her prize. She wanted him and she would have him, regardless of her unwelcome epiphany that despite all her efforts, she might have gone and lost her heart to this man after all.

Because by god, tonight he was hers.

"Strip, Your Grace," she told him, unable to wait a second longer. "Will we be interrupted by your valet?"

One reddish-bronze brow arched at her impatience. "No, Pierre has been dismissed for the evening." God, even that low rumble did things to her, scraping along her senses like those very claws he'd promised.

Vale prowled toward her, making her breath catch, until he'd crowded her against the door. "You seem to think that you are in charge here, my lady."

"I'm not?" she whispered.

His nose trailed along her cheek as he breathed her in, each fraught second making her skin tingle and burn. "Not at the moment, no." He reached her earlobe and bit gently. In truth, her useless knees nearly buckled as hot breath shivered over the sensitive whorls of her ear.

Huge and handsome, he peered down at her, all rugged angles and hard lines from his jutting cheekbones to his square jaw. Auburn hair fell into his brow, disordered from where she'd grabbed ahold in the coach to keep him lodged between her splayed thighs. She blushed at the recollection as she closed the bedroom door shut behind her. The Duke of Vale might not be experienced in the most literal sense of the word, but after his performance in the carriage, he certainly knew his way around a woman.

"You know what's the best thing about my quarters?" he asked with a mischievous expression.

She lifted her brow, wondering what wicked thing he was going to say that would reduce her to a mess. More of a mess. "What?"

"No cats."

Evangeline couldn't help it, she burst into laughter. What was it about this man that made her want to tear his clothes off and talk to him like a best friend for hours? He made her head spin while keeping her heart warm. He made her laugh, even when she wanted to scale him like a bloody tree. "You love my cats."

"There's only one kitty I'm interested in," he said with a wink. "And she's ferocious but oh, so sweet. Gives in with a single pat like putty in my hands. A complete pushover."

Her jaw dropped as his words sank in, heat curling through her at the hungry look on his face. "I am not a pushover."

"Feel like a friendly wager?" he asked, leaning to nuzzle her neck.

She suppressed a moan at the slight swipe of his tongue, arching to give him better access. He obliged, sucking and nibbling along the column of her throat, and making her knees shake beneath her skirts. "You don't gamble, remember? It's not good for you."

"I would risk it all for the right prize," he told her, voice low and raspy. He pulled back to stare at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His gaze traced her face. "You're so beautiful, Evangeline," he whispered, and she was completely mesmerized by the look in those limpid green eyes. Admiration, adoration even. He made her feel… like she was the only one he ever saw. Like she was everything.

"Gage."

"Go and hold the bedpost so I may unlace you," he rasped.

Had any other whispered command ever sounded so erotic? That rumbling Scottish burr sank into her bones and spread heat everywhere.

"Now, Evangeline," he said when she didn't move.

Devil take it, the way he said her name—the steel draped in silk—made her embarrassingly wet beneath her skirts. She licked dry lips, feeling his eyes drop there, a hiss escaping him as though he wanted to do debauched things to her mouth. He would . She knew it as well as she knew that she was never going to forget tonight for as long as she lived. Gulping past the lump in her throat, she moved toward the bedpost and did as he instructed.

"Good girl."

Hell and damnation, why did that growled approval make her wetter?

Take control, you daft chit!

Before she could lose her nerve and any more of her diminishing wits, she pressed the length of her forearms into the carved mahogany bedpost, pushed her arse out provocatively, and glanced at him over her shoulder, letting every ounce of her arousal show in her eyes.

"I'm not a girl." She drew her lower lip between her teeth, watching that telltale muscle jump to life in his cheek. "And I don't plan to be good."

His nostrils flared, eyes nearly black, only a sliver of green remaining, as if the beast beneath was about to burst through. It was intensely gratifying to see him holding on to his control by a thread. She wanted him undone, reduced to nothing but want. But when she felt the heat of his body and the fingers that traced along the laces at her spine, she was the one unraveling. She was the one reduced to whimpers.

"Done this before?" she asked, desperate to hold on to something besides the bedpost. Self-control was fast slipping away, like holding on to falling snow.

"Undressed a woman?" he said, lips grazing the inside of her gaping neckline at her back. Something wet and hot traced the upper indents of her spine. Her fingers curled into the wood, ribbons of need arrowing to her tender breasts and between her hips.

"Yes," she bit out.

"Not like this," he said in a thick voice. "Never like this. Every inch of your skin is a temptation." He slid his hands up her nape, long fingers wrapping around the front of her throat as he drew her head back, angling her chin upward. She felt so fragile in his arms, knowing the strength in those hands, and yet he was so gentle. He loomed over her, lips taking hers in the briefest of kisses. A hint of heat, a flick of his tongue, and he was gone, fingers delving in her hair and loosening the few pins he found there.

"Your hair is like liquid moonlight," he whispered in reverence, palms threading through the strands.

"It's a nuisance," she replied. "Gets tangled at the slightest breeze, won't be held by pins, never cooperates, does what it wants."

A muffled laugh. "Sounds exactly like the rest of you."

"I cooperate given the right incentive."

"Care to share?"

She shivered when fingertips danced down her spine. "Keep doing what you're doing."

The warmth of him at her back disappeared, and Evangeline turned at the same time that the bodice of her gown slid to her waist. He loosened the ties holding her petticoats, and soon, they, too, fell in a crumpled pool on the floor. She was still covered by her corset, chemise, and stockings, but she could feel his stare burning through her remaining layers. The air grew heavy with anticipation and want.

"I have never seen anything like you, Evangeline, pure perfection," he said thickly, making quick work of the corset and undoing the ribbons of her chemise. Pleasure filled her at his soft words, undoing all of the flimsy barriers she'd erected against him. She was already helplessly, irrevocably lost.

Nothing on her person was safe from his dexterous hands. He knelt to remove her slippers and untie her garters, hands skimming over her skin as he rolled down her silk stockings, and she could barely breathe as his nose grazed the backs of her thighs. He inhaled deeply and she froze in mortification.

"Are you sniffing me?" Evangeline asked, a little horrified.

"Undressing you is an all-senses experience. Touch"—he dragged one palm over her buttocks to the crease where they met her upper leg, the soft touch making her shiver—"scent, sight, sound, taste." And with the last, he licked her right along that sensitive crease, his teeth closing over a fleshy mouthful of her behind.

"Gage!"

Evangeline almost buckled and had to hold herself upright with all her strength. One single thought remained in her head. There was no way she was ever going to survive this.

She smelled like lilies.

Gage filled his lungs with her scent. Forced himself to go slow. To take his time.

But he was a starving man faced with a banquet… a banquet of rose-tinted flesh spread out for his viewing and gorging pleasure. He wanted to breathe her in, taste her everywhere, mark every part of her as his. One bite and he was already done for. The circular, red imprint of his teeth on her pert bottom made his cock pulse.

Fuck if she wasn't the most stunning thing he had ever seen.

Evangeline Raine was a Botticelli painting in the flesh, but even the most famous Venus could not compare. Long and lithe, Evangeline's curves were spare but well-formed, her legs long, that moonlit hair spilling down her shoulders like a silken waterfall. Gage stored away the memory of her just like this. Sultry ice-blue irises edged in silver met his. Her bottom lip was red from biting it.

"Face me, Evangeline," he rasped. "Keep your hands where they are."

Slowly, she turned, wrists high above her head, and his breath fizzled. Small, round breasts rose high on her chest, their peaks topped with tight, luscious nipples that begged to be stroked, sucked, and bitten. A creamy torso curved into a soft belly, leading to deliciously flared hips and the white-blond tuft that shielded her mound at the apex of her thighs. Those long legs were crossed at the ankles.

"You are fucking perfect," he whispered.

"I'm glad you think so," she said, blushing and abusing her lower lip again. "No one could ever call me tiny and dainty."

"I could," he said, removing his coat and waistcoat, and tugging on his necktie.

"That's because you are a giant."

He sat in an armchair and tugged off his boots—thank God he'd thought ahead and worn his loosest pair, which did not require the assistance of his valet. Nothing was more of a mood killer than summoning one's very opinionated servant to help get undressed for pleasures of the flesh. "I'm of average size for a Scot," he said.

"Nothing about you, Your Grace, is average," she said, her cheeks going scarlet. "Especially your size."

He laughed at her expression and then felt his chest puff at her obvious meaning. Tearing his stockings off, he wiggled his toes for effect. "You know what they say about men with big feet."

"Big boots?" Her lips twitched.

Gage grinned. "Enormous."

"You don't have to convince me, Your Grace." She licked her lips and shifted against the bedpost, her sinuous body writhing in a way that had his cock twitching. Fantasies of her mouth around him had him dampening his fly. If he wasn't careful, he wasn't going to last, and then any boasting about foot size would become tragically irrelevant.

Impatient, he tugged his shirt over his head. Her breathless gasp pleased him. He liked that she appreciated his body—his physique had been earned from hard work, here in England and growing up in Scotland, and while he was not vain about his appearance, it gratified him to be attractive to her.

"Get on the bed," he told her in a hoarse voice.

"Is that an order?" she teased, a barely there shiver racking her frame, though her chin went high and her eyes glinted with delicious defiance.

Gage stilled, hands at his waistband. "Get on the bed, please ?"

There was a beat before the bright tones of her laughter filled the room. "I do love a man with manners."

"Never let it ever be said that I am not a gentleman."

He held her gaze, his barely slitted open, as he unfastened his trousers and let them fall. That sassy mouth of hers parted on air, a swallow working her slender throat. Kicking his pants away, he closed the distance between them, noticing her pulse fluttering like a confined bird at the base of her neck. Despite her cheek, she was nervous, he realized. Nerves that she shrouded in bravado. She wanted this, but lovemaking was a momentous step.

For both of them.

Evangeline did not move a muscle until he was nearly upon her, craning her head to keep her eyes locked on his. God, he loved her fearlessness. Give him a strong, frustratingly independent woman over a simpering, timid miss any day. Even one who had no interest in giving up that independence, who was adamant that she'd never marry, and who would never, ever consider leaving England for good.

Fuck. The desolate thoughts shook him.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want," he whispered.

"Don't be daft, Vale. What girl in her right mind would want to waste that?" An arch glance slid down to the straining erection that was level with her belly. With a slow grin, she removed her arms from the bedpost and looped them around his neck. "Besides, I was promised I could climb to my heart's content. I did not think you so cruel to deny me, Your Grace."

Without warning, she jumped upward, and he caught her under her buttocks at the same time, both of them groaning in unison as she twined her legs around him. He could feel the heat at her core and her dampness, her breasts squashed against his chest. She moaned as her nipples tightened, abraded by the hair on his chest, then proceeded to rub them shamelessly into him.

"May I tell you a secret?" he whispered as he ferried them toward the bed, the high mattress bracing against the backs of his thighs. When she nodded, he smiled. "You're a much lovelier handful than Beasty Buttercup."

She laughed and he nuzzled her neck. "More than a handful, I wager."

"Much less furry, too."

She sifted her fingers through the bronze curls over his pectorals, grazing over his flat nipples and making him hiss. "Good thing you have enough for both of us. I like this." Her palms trailed up to cup his jaw and rub the stubble there. "And this. I want to feel it scratch against my thighs."

"God, that mouth of yours," he groaned.

Evangeline wrapped her arms around his neck and caught his lips with hers. "It's quite obsessed with you."

Her kisses were wet and messy, and they drove him wild. There was little finesse, only an insatiable, unpracticed hunger, and Gage wouldn't have it any other way. She was fucking perfect. He kissed her back, a palm tight against her spine to keep her flush, his mouth devouring hers with equal intensity. She tasted like summer days in the Highland dells.

She tasted like home.

Gage eased them both down so she was sitting upon him, legs still tight around his waist, but now his cock was wedged snugly into the damp cradle of her body. He wasn't even inside her and it felt like heaven. She adjusted her weight, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head when her wet folds dragged against his length.

"How would you like to proceed, my lady?" he grunted in strained, clipped tones, pleading desperately with himself to go the distance. "Would you prefer to ride or be ridden?"

"So formal, Your Grace," she said with a laugh and a gut-clenching undulation of her hips.

"Well, it is an official arrangement, so I am determined to leave my lady satisfied." Gage wanted to kick himself the moment he said the words when a flicker of what could only be hurt passed over her irises. "I only meant—"

"I know what you meant," she said softly. "And you're right. I asked for this."

"Evangeline."

"We both know the terms of our arrangement, Gage," she said, eyes searching his. "And perhaps we needed the reminder. You're meant to go back to Scotland after the season. We knew what this was, but that doesn't mean we can't live in this moment."

Her words were heavy, but she was right. A flush flooded his cheeks. "The truth is I've dreamed of being here with you for so long and I want so terribly to make this good for you." Overcome by his own admission and worried that he'd bungled it, he took her mouth in another heated kiss, his tongue finding hers with unerring speed and sweetness. It descended into blissful savagery soon thereafter, all heated licks and nips. When he pulled away, they were both panting, platitudes and arrangements forgotten.

There was only them .

Slowly, he unclasped her legs and lay back on the bedclothes so that she straddled him, knees on either sides of his hips. Pale ice-blue eyes met his, a shimmer of that same earlier pained emotion visible for a moment before it was hidden anew. When she leaned over him to take his lips in an open-mouthed kiss so hot it made him see stars, it was sublime.

"Touch me, Gage," she said, moving his hands to her breasts. He couldn't obey fast enough, filling his palms with her and then rearing up to fill his mouth, one succulent taste at a time. He licked and sucked until her head fell back and her hips were rocking uncontrollably over his. "I need you," she whispered.

"I need you, too," he said. He reached for the drawer near his bed and opened it to reveal a slim pouch.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A French letter. To prevent conception. I could withdraw, but better for us to be safe than sorry."

Her eyelashes dipped before he could see her expression, but she observed intently as he removed the nearly transparent covering and sheathed it over himself, adding a few drops of oil from the accompanying bottle for lubrication. While the thought of getting her with child made a pang take hold of his chest, children were no part of this arrangement. The only thing between them would be pleasure.

When he was ready, she lifted her hips and reached between them to position him at her entrance and then began the slow, exquisite slide. Her breath hissed as his crown breached her tight body and stalled. Bloody hell, he should have prepared her more. Cursing himself and his own greenness, he held himself still, letting her lead and hoping she knew what to do. He closed his eyes in self-disgust.

"What's the matter?" she whispered.

"I should be better at this for you."

She let out a breathless laugh. "You're wonderful as you are, but I'll tell you what—we can both be dreadful at our first time together, and then we will both become experts with copious amounts of practice. What say you?"

"I knew you were brilliant."

"Good, now caress my breasts and do that flicking thing with your tongue again. I liked that very much."

He did as she bade him, toying with her pretty, taut nipples, and she rolled her hips down, making them both gasp. With a moan, she arched as her delectable body commandeered more of his, one glorious inch at a time. "Yes, just like that," she panted. "Gage, you feel so damned good."

He huffed a laugh at her growled curse, groaning as pleasure streaked through him. Gage looked up, and the sight of her was too much. With her head thrown back, lips parted, hair tumbling in an erotic waterfall over her breasts and shoulders, he locked his gaze on where she worked him into her in small, careful pulses. "You feel like fucking paradise."

Eyes melting with desire, she leaned down to kiss him, her body rocking into his with each excruciatingly slow roll. He wanted to move, to thrust, to rut into her delicious heat, but this was about her. That was why he'd chosen this position. He would die before he rushed a single moment of this. Fucking hell, her body felt like the sweetest, hottest clamp, her walls squeezing him to delirium with each conquered inch while her mouth claimed his, hot and hungry.

With one last nibble on his lower lip, she shifted up onto her knees and sank back down, the slickness and gravity doing their work until he was wholly seated inside of her. They both groaned at the hedonistic fullness. Evangeline squirmed and canted her hips, inner walls rippling as if trying to adjust to his girth, and Gage felt lightning gather at the base of his spine.

Oh, hell no! He was going to…

His body twitched and froze, the orgasm taking him by storm. A kaleidoscope of lights burst across his vision, the release exploding through him like a molten crashing wave, fire and pleasure spiking through all his nerves until he could barely see. And still she rocked above him, chasing her own bliss on the heels of his, and wringing every last bit of pleasure from him like the beautiful goddess she was.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered, his fingers clenching on her hips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to finish so quickly."

Whimpering, she stared down at him. "Are you done? Do you wish me to get off you?"

"No." He felt himself blush. He was still inside her, softened but nowhere near done. "Give me a moment. You have no idea what being inside of you felt like. Feels like."

She bit her lip with a small sideways smile, and a roll of her pelvis that had them both gasping anew. "I think I have some idea."

Evangeline felt the semihard length of him twitch inside her, and she marveled at the power of his body to be capable of such intense pleasure, as well as the ability of hers to drive him to such passionate extremes. She could have easily found her own release with a quick stroke of her fingers over her sensitive clitoris, but she'd wanted to watch him… to savor each second of bliss breaking over his beautiful face.

And Gage had come beautifully undone in the throes of pleasure.

She wanted to see it again and again.

"I'll be right back," he told her, easing from within her and making them both moan at the slippery friction. He gave her a quick kiss then left the bed, striding purposefully toward the connected bathing chamber.

Body still humming with energy, Evangeline boldly admired the tight curves of his buttocks and the thick strength of his muscled legs until he disappeared from view. When he returned, she stared quizzically at him, trying not to stare at the long but partially flaccid length of his spent phallus that was now bare of its temporary covering. It was truly a fascinating organ—angry and hard one minute, and soft and inconspicuous the next. Though Vale's could scarcely be called inconspicuous .

He held up the newly clean contraceptive sheath. "One of the disadvantages of using such devices."

"I'd say it outweighs the negatives if it prevents pregnancy."

He nodded. "Though it disrupts the romance."

"Good thing ours is a scientific study then."

She kept her voice calm but felt the lie echo in her heart.

He frowned but then rejoined her on the bed. She pulled him to lie on top of her, and he lifted to his elbows so he didn't crush her with his weight. Evangeline didn't mind. She liked the solid feel of his body on hers, of being pressed into the mattress. In truth, she hadn't minded being on top and controlling the pace, but she liked this way, too.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, lips brushing the tip of her nose.

"What for?" she asked.

He hesitated, a dull flush deepening over his cheekbones. "I wanted you to get there first or at least make sure you reached your peak at the same time."

"You made me come in the carriage," she pointed out. "So now we're even."

He flexed his hips, drawing a hiss from her as the ridge of his staff rubbed over her mound. "Is it a competition?"

Undaunted, she flexed back. "The best kind."

Gage stared down at her, amusement in his eyes. "So how does one win? Do we bring each other pleasure until we pass out? I seem to recall your saying something about copious amounts of practice, and while I am up for the challenge, I do not want to hurt you, if you are too tender."

His face was earnest, worry flickering in those gorgeous green eyes as he stared down at her. Evangeline was in fact a bit sore, but she grinned and wrapped her legs over his hips. "Practice makes perfect."

Calloused fingertips stroked over her cheek. "Are you sure? There are many other ways I can bring you pleasure."

"I want it all, Gage."

It didn't take him long to get back into fighting form, after a few gentle touches and impassioned kisses, his cock hardening between her legs in record time. He lifted to his knees to retie the sheath, and she assisted him, once more marveling at the thickness of him and the fact that she'd had all of that buried deep inside of her.

"This time," he whispered, "I'm going to take you to the stars."

"Bold boast," she told him with a laugh.

"It's not a boast, it's a vow."

Evangeline did not reply, because when he slid into her, pinning her to the mattress, her faithful tongue went on vacation. She was so wet that she took him all the way to the hilt on the first thrust. And as he stroked all the right spots inside her body and fingered the bundle of nerves at the apex of her swollen sex, the stars seemed to arrive rather too quickly.

She clawed at his back, fingers digging into the hardness of his muscles, sweat building between them as her body softened to the pliability of honey. And still he worked her. Relentlessly. His huge body grinding down, driving her to the precipice that loomed bigger and bigger until it was all she could see.

"Gage!"

He took her lips, tongue claiming her as deeply as his cock did. Above and below, she was his. When the spark he was stoking ignited, detonating inside with a shock she felt along every inch of her body, Evangeline's mouth fell open in a soundless scream as pleasure blasted her over the edge of the cliff into bliss. The orgasm roared through her core, scorching her veins, the feel of it almost too intense to bear. Gage joined her there with a pleasured growl of his own, gathering her in his arms and taking them to their sides.

Evangeline blinked, lucidity returning in flickers of light and sound. "I definitely saw something for a moment there. You win."

"The stars?" he asked, his lip curling in a very satisfied grin.

She heaved out a breath, relishing the little quivers that still rocked her insides. "The moon, Your Grace. I saw the moon."