Diane Gaston - Regency High Society Vol 7

He untied the ribbons of her domino and removed the pins from her hair, which was already half-tumbling around her shoulders. He let his fingers slip through the silky dark locks.

She smiled at him. ‘Make love to me, Sloane. Please. Just this once?’

He looked into her eyes, but did not answer.

She grabbed at the front of his domino and pulled him closer to her. ‘I want to be with you,’ she insisted. ‘Just once. Please. Just this once.’

He had no intention of being satisfied with just once, but he need not tell her that. She’d discover soon enough. He captured her lips once more and let his actions speak for him.

Mrs Rice hurried to the door of theArgyle Rooms as the burly man staggered in from the street. ‘Who was that?’ she demanded.

‘Cyprian Sloane,’ the man’s friend said. ‘But you do not wish an altercation with him. He’s a dangerous man.’

‘Heard he’s gone respectable,’ another man said.

Mrs Rice cared nothing about that. ‘What does he have to do with those girls?’

‘The Sirens?’ the same man asked. ‘I would not wish to find out.’

Cyprian Sloane , Mrs Rice thought. Finally a clue as to who had stolen her girls. She’d send Trigg to discover his location. Signalling for her cloak, she hurried out of the building and made her way back to her glove shop, smiling at this lucky break. She’d get her girls back now, for certain.

And she’d make certain they would be punished for daring to leave.

When the coach stopped in front of Sloane’s house, Morgana feared he would send her home. She did not want to leave his arms, not even for an instant.

‘Come in with me,’ he said.

She smiled in delight. He wrapped her domino around her and led her to the door.

‘I told the servants not to stay up for me.’ Sloane fumbled for the door key.

He opened the door and brought her inside, gathering her into his arms for a long, breathtaking kiss. She’d shed her gloves in the carriage and now pressed her bare palms to his cheeks, gazing into his eyes in the dim light of the candles left burning in the hall.

‘Are you certain about this, Morgana? I will take you home at once if you are not.’ His voice rasped with need, but also with restraint.

She looked directly into his eyes. ‘I am entirely certain, Sloane. I want this more than anything I have ever desired.’

His smile flashed white in the near darkness, but it just as quickly disappeared again into a frown. ‘You could conceive a child.’

Secretly she thought that would be the most marvellous thing in the world. To have Sloane’s child growing inside her. To feel his baby suckling at her breast. ‘It is unlikely,’ she said instead. ‘Besides, Madame Bisou taught us how to prevent it.’

But she would take no steps to avoid pregnancy. She might even pray for it to happen.

He stared at her a long time, then whisked her into his arms and carried her up the stairs, as if she were some petite miss weighing no more than half a dozen stone. She nestled her face against his neck and tasted the skin, now rough with a growth of beard. He carried her into his bedchamber and kicked the door shut behind him. A lamp burned in the room, and a small fire in the fireplace warded off the chill of the night. He marched directly to the bed and placed her upon it. As she flung her domino on to the floor, he tore his off and shrugged out of his coat. She kneeled on the bed and reached up to unbutton his waistcoat. He went very still as she did so. She wanted nothing more than to laugh with joy.

Amazing herself with her boldness, yet proud at the same time, she pulled his shirt from where it was tucked into his breeches and reached underneath it to pull it over his head. His bare chest glistened in the lamplight, and Morgana paused, her breath momentarily forced from her lungs at the definition of his muscles, the peppering of dark hair on his chest. Just when she thought her eyes could take in no more, he unbuttoned and removed his breeches and drawers, and for the first time in her life her eyes feasted upon the body of a naked man.

What a glorious, exciting sight. She let her gaze drop to that most private male part of him and her pulse raced so fast she thought she would explode. He was large and erect, exactly the way the courtesan instructors intimated would bring delight. She lifted her eyes to his, her mouth open.

His gaze burned down on her. ‘Your turn,’ he said, climbing on to the bed and reaching around her to the buttons on the back of her dress. He handled the unfastening of her dress with surprisingly gentle hands, but having him so close and so bare was enough to drive her into a frenzy she did not understand. Once her buttons were free, he lifted the dress over her head and tossed it aside. She felt her breasts suddenly straining against her corset. ‘Turn around,’ he said and he untied her laces quickly so she was soon free of its constraint. Nothing was left between them except her shift. His hands were hot against her skin as he reached under the thin fabric and slid it off, inch by tantalising inch.

She gasped as he threw her shift aside and it fluttered to the floor. It was his turn for his eyes to feast upon her, and she felt his gaze as acutely as she’d just felt his hands.

‘Oh, Sloane,’ she breathed, her voice as thin as air. She trembled in need for him, a need she did not entirely understand, but one she was both frightened of and eager to slake.

He gently eased her down on the bed, kneeling over her. His fingers skimmed her flesh, causing her to feel she might come apart when he touched her breasts ever so lightly.

His eyes were reverent when he cupped her face and stared at her. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured.

She rose up and placed her lips on his, winding her arms around his neck and burying her fingers in his thick, dark hair. Finally she felt his naked chest press against her, but still the need was not satisfied. Her heart pounded faster.

Nothing had ever felt as right as this. She’d never felt before as if she were in the right place at the right time and belonged there. Tears stung her eyes. How could finally feeling she was no longer alone make her realise the ache of loneliness she’d lived with her whole life? And would return to again?

While his lips continued to feast on hers, his hand cupped her breast and squeezed, sending a shaft of pleasure through her. She writhed beneath him and his male organ pressed against her, increasing the thrill. This was lovely, but not enough. She wanted more of him. She wanted all of him.

He broke off the kiss and stared down at her again, from her face to her breasts to her abdomen to the thatch of hair between her legs. He filled his hands with her breasts, rubbing her nipples against his palms. A strangled cry escaped her lips. His hands travelled lower and lower, until one hand slipped between her legs. Common sense told her to clamp them closed, but other senses had taken over. She opened herself to him.

‘I need to touch you,’ he whispered. ‘It will lessen the pain for you.’

‘You will not hurt me, Sloane.’ She gasped as he fingered the most private part of her, feeling joyous that it was Sloane’s fingers entering her, feeling eager for his body to join hers.

The sensations became more and more intense, stronger than she could have ever conceived. ‘Sloane!’ she cried.

‘Am I hurting you?’ He withdrew his hand, but she grabbed it, placing it back to where she ached with a new sort of need.