Page 19 of The Lyon Whisperer (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #79)

A melia felt the warmth of Chase’s palm on her shoulder all the way to her toes. She’d been half afraid he would insist on speaking with her immediately, and half afraid he would not.

The truth was, she was not ready to say goodnight. Nor did she wish to argue. She wanted him to make love to her with a desperation that shook her to the core. She doubted he would appreciate the unladylike sentiment, however.

Hand on her door lever, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “I suppose we should talk in your room, as entering mine will allow you no access to yours.”

In the moonlit corridor, his dark eyes gleamed.

She tried to read their meaning, but his thoughts were inscrutable to her.

“Very well, madame wife.” He strode to his chamber door and opened it wide. He made a sweeping gesture. “After you.”

She entered, grateful for the darkness. He could not possibly make out the tell-tale pulsing at the base of her throat, nor the smile tugging at her mouth no matter how hard she tried to quell the urge.

He crossed his antechamber ahead of her, opening the door to his bedchamber and again gestured for her to precede him.

Her breaths turned choppy. She moved to the foot of his four-post bed, wrapping her hand around one of the thick, smooth polished posts.

She turned to see him standing with his back to the closed antechamber door. He stared at her for a long moment.

“I wish to discuss what happened tonight.”

“I know you do not care for the notion of a gaggle of puppies, sir, but you must admit they have been no trouble to you at all since—”

“I am not referring to your complete disregard of my directive regarding the pups.” He shoved off the door and sauntered toward her. A lion, toying with his prey.

As he neared her, the area between her legs grew damp and heavy.

She cursed her traitorous body. The man had been a perfect prig tonight. She should be thinking about that, not about how he helped her with her puppies, and certainly not about being made love to by him.

“I see. You refer to the ball?” She hoped he took the breathless quality of her voice as anything other than what it was—her fierce attraction for the man.

Never taking his eyes from her, he eased a hip onto the foot of the mattress. “Have a seat, my dear.”

She eyed the tall mattress and sniffed. She could heave herself up onto it if she wanted to make a spectacle of herself.

Her predicament was not lost on him. He straightened, wrapped his strong, warm hands around her waist and lifted her onto the mattress with seeming no effort whatsoever.

Instead of returning to his respective post, he remained standing before her, his muscular thighs firm against her legs through the layers of fabric separating their skin.

The tantalizing scent of his aftershave wafted in and out of reach.

Heat flared within her, settling low in her abdomen. Everything in her wanted to reach for him, to twine her arms around his neck to pull her body close to his.

She stayed utterly still, barely daring to breathe.

“I wish to apologize for my heavy handedness.”

It took her a full two seconds to respond to the unexpected apology. “Oh.”

“Although I maintain my stipulations you not dance twice in a row with any man, ever, unless it happens to be me, and refrain from any further discourse with Tully, faulting you to the extent I did was unfair.”

She lowered her head to gaze at her hands bound very tightly in her lap. “I tried ever so hard to be a model of womanly virtue tonight. I refrained from any sort of political conversation while dancing—”

She thought she heard his incredulous snort, but continued unabated. “—and even made nice with several ladies of the ton whose husbands I believe might aid your cause. I did not particularly care to dance with Lord Tully once, much less twice. In fact I did not even know his name when he led me onto the dance floor.”

He crooked a warm finger under her chin and urged her face upward, then scooped his fingers around nape. “How did you come to dance with him if you had not met?”

“He approached Mr. Defoe and me in the supper room to inform him of the meeting taking place with you and your regiment in the card room.”

“ Ah .”

“He claimed the two of you were old friends and offered to see me back to your aunt and my friends. After Mr. Defoe departed, he suggested we dance. I did not see how I could refuse.”

“And then?”

“I really do not see—”

“Humor me, I beg of you. What did the two of you discuss? I really must insist you tell me.”

She closed her eyes briefly. She may as well relent. He would not give up his interrogation until she did. “He brought up his wife. He said some things concerning your mutual past which you will likely not appreciate.”

He drew his other hand to her nape. She felt his fingers prodding at her bound hair, removing pins. After a moment, the knot of her bun partially unwound. His fingers tugged at the twisted mound of hair, combing through the mass.

She laughed self-consciously. “What are you—”

“Do you mind?”

“No.” In fact, having him play with her hair was akin to heaven.

“Continue with your tale.” His voice was rough and low but held no menace.

It was hard to think while his fingers pulled and sifted. He’d inched closer, bracketing her legs with his. With every ministration, his inner thighs flexed.

“He told me you seduced Lady Millicent and then abandoned her. He said he was forced to step in a marry her.”

Abruptly his fingers stopped moving. Everything about him froze. Then he laughed softly. “That’s his story, is it?”

He released her and moved to the window, taking all the warmth in the chamber with him. He gazed out, his back to her.

She had the impression he saw not the grassy fields and trees and night-dark sky, but the past.

“You believed him, Amelia?”

“No, of course not.”

He turned. “No? Then why did you refuse to tell me what he’d said?”

“I don’t know,” she lied.

She knew very well why she hadn’t wanted to tell him. She didn’t want to discuss what the man had said about Chase’s reasons for marrying her. With any luck, he would be satisfied she’d told him everything and cease questioning her.

“In truth, Tully’s animosity toward me has roots that go back to our Eton days.”

“He mentioned you’d known each other since then.”

“We were in the same class, though the two of us did not move in the same circles. Tully’s father, the earl, and my father were both still alive, making Tully an heir to an earldom and me, nobody. No one had any reason to suspect my aunt and uncle would not conceive an heir, least of all me.

“He had his friends, if you could call them that, I had mine. His consisted more of sycophants rather than actual comrades because, even as a boy, he had no care for anyone other than himself and it showed. He was a bully and a tyrant.”

“With everyone but you?” she asked, somehow knowing it to be true.

Chase shrugged and began pacing the dark room, his steps sure as if he had the night vision of a cat. “One day, my friends and I came upon him teasing the headmaster’s daughter. She was a simple creature, having been born lacking the capacity to understand he wasn’t being her friend when he told her to remove her garments and dance. She thought they were playing a great game.”

“How perfectly horrid,” she said. “No one tried to stop him?”

Chase approached the foot of the bed. He leaned against a post, crossing his arms over his chest. The lapels of his robe had parted to reveal a good amount of burnished skin and a dusting of dark hair.

“I have no notion what happened before I came on the scene. I only know I could not abide such nonsense. I told him to leave her alone.”

Pride swelled in her chest. Of course he had.

“He declined. I made my suggestion again, with a bit more force.”

Oh, how she admired the man. “Meaning you gave him a good wallop?”

One corner of his mouth curved upward. “Not exactly, I tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned on me, swinging. He got me pretty good in the jaw. I returned the favor, catching him in the nose. We went at it until the ruckus we caused drew the attention of the headmaster.

“When he arrived, he sent his daughter home in tears and demanded an explanation. Nobody admitted to seeing a thing, and neither Tully nor I said a word. He disbanded the crowd and marched us to his office where he lectured the two of us on proper decorum as befitted Eton boys.”

She was appalled. “You never told him you defended his daughter?”

Chase spread his arms wide and sat beside her, very close this time.

“No, but I gathered he deduced Huxley was to blame for the state of undress of his daughter. He told us—while glaring at Huxley—if anything like that ever happened to his daughter again, regardless of who was involved, he would see us both expelled. Then he told us to wait.”

“For what?”

“Our parents.”

“I see.”

“My father was deployed. That meant Uncle Harry came in his stead.” Chase grinned and shook his head. “He actually congratulated me on showing a bit of spirit. Huxley’s father was a different animal entirely, and that is where this story really begins.”

He eyed her. “You see, Huxley’s father, then the Earl of Tully, did not like learning his son had been caught at his misdeed, nor that he’d not bested the son of a mere mister.”

“How utterly despicable.”

“I came around the corner in time to witness the tail end of their discourse on the matter. I saw Huxley sniveling and begging his father not to believe the headmaster’s rendition of what happened. He insisted he’d bested me—to no avail. The man backhand Huxley so hard his head snapped backward and spittle flew. For a moment, I actually felt sorry him.”

“I can understand why.”

“During the split second our eyes met, he must’ve seen the pity on my face. After that, his hatred of me was only outweighed by his fear.”

“Because you witnessed his humiliation at the hand of his father.”

“Exactly. He avoided me, even as he whispered behind my back and tried to pit people against me. I have never worried overmuch about my popularity.”

She arched a brow in challenge. “Not even now? Dealing with the powerful lords of the ton ?”

He scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “They don’t have to like me, they just have to listen.”

“If you get the required votes, will you no longer concern yourself with my behavior?”

“No,” he all but growled.

She sighed. “Of course not. How does any of this relate to Lady Millicent.”

“Millicent was supposed to be Huxley’s revenge. He somehow learned of my courtship. He set out to seduce her and succeeded.”

The nerve of the man, claiming the exact opposite. As if she would take the word of a perfect stranger over that of her husband.

“He came to me and informed me he’d… er …”

“Had conjugal relations with her?” she put in helpfully.

He frowned at her briefly. “Yes. He then said I was welcome to her, among other things.”

She blinked. “But you refused to marry her because she had been unfaithful?”

“Not exactly. What I wanted never came into play.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, deeply curious now.

“Millicent wanted Huxley, you see. She came to tell me, to apologize, I suppose. She said she thought he loved her. When he told her he would never marry her, never make her his countess, she became distraught. To this day I do not know if it was affection for him or the desire for such a prestigious title that lured her in. Not that it matters.”

“He claimed he would not marry her? Yet, he did.”

Chase smiled a slow, pirate’s smile. His teeth gleamed white in the moonlit chamber. “Did I mention Millicent’s father, though not a lord, happened to be a very powerful, very wealthy banker?”

“No.”

“He was—is, in fact. When his only daughter informed him what transpired, he set about purchasing all of the Earl of Tully’s—Huxley’s father’s, that is—debts. He then called them due, unless his son came up to scratch and married his daughter.”

“I see,” she said. “And she told you all this?”

“She was quite pleased with herself, bringing Huxley to heel like that, and didn’t bother to hide the fact from me. It was the moment I realized what a near miss I had. Before that, she acted the perfect, demure lady.”

Amelia could not help herself. She heard herself ask, “Were you very hurt?”

“My pride was bruised, but as I said, I count it a near miss and a mighty lesson learned.”

“What lesson was that?”

“You never really know anyone. You can trust only one person in this world.”

“Who’s that?” she whispered, though she thought she already knew.

“Yourself.” He jabbed his chest with his thumb.

Not true, she thought. For I trust you, Chase Culver.

“Thank you for sharing your confidence with me. I shall guard your secret to the death. And I shall refrain from dancing with the scoundrel ever again.”

He reached up and combed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind one ear. “Or talking with him,” he purred.

She shivered and nodded.

“Good.” His fingers once again wove through her hair, lifting and sifting. “Now, if you would be so good as to tell me what else he said.”

Her lethargy born of a sense of contentment vanished in a blink. “Why do you assume he said anything else at all?”

“It stands to reason. You claim you did not believe his falsehoods regarding Millicent—”

“I didn’t,” she insisted.

“Yet something upset you greatly. Thus, whatever else he said must have caused it.”

Her mouth firmed. “It does not signify.”

He said nothing.

“Oh, very well. He pointed out that yours and your uncle’s estates were both in need of liquid cash. He also mentioned my… er …previous, unsuccessful seasons on the marriage mart.”

His hands unwound from her hair. He opened his arms wide in a gesture of evident bewilderment. “And?”

She scowled at him. He would make her say it? “When he coupled the two facts—your financial need and my near spinster status—he came to the natural conclusion the only reason you married me, and the reason for the rushed nuptials, was your desire to get your hands on my dowry. He implied you might use seduction as a means to cement my bond.”

“Your bond.”

“My compliance. My wifely submission.”

“How utterly absurd.”

“You would have to have been there. He made a convincing argument.”

“ You believed him?” He spoke softly, but the simmering anger underlying his tone gave her pause.

“Not entirely.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose as if seeking patience. “I’ve already told you, I do not yet possess your dowry, and the idea I would pick you because you’d had two previous seasons—”

“Three, if you count the one I avoided,” she said as a morose feeling swept over her. Recalling her failed seasons also brought to mind how she’d disappointed her father, and made herself a near laughingstock in the eyes of the ton .

His dark brows furrowed. In the moonlit chamber he looked thoroughly forbidding. “The idea I would choose a bride thanks to her so-called spinsterhood status is as ludicrous as any fool labeling you as such.”

It took a moment for the weight of what he’d said to sink in. A spark of hope lit her heart. “You’re saying you don’t agree I was a near spinster?”

He snorted. “No.”

“Why not? Because I’m an earl’s daughter?”

“Yes,” he growled. “Among other things.” He grasped her shoulders. “Now, is there anything else you need to tell me?”

Amelia hesitated. “No.”

He cursed softly. “What else did he say?”

She bit her lower lip and considered her chances of convincing him she’d revealed all of the regrettable conversation.

None whatsoever, she decided.

“He said the one thing he could not work out was why we married so swiftly. He told me he meant to discover what caused my father to agree to such a hasty wedding, and that he would share what he learned with me.”

“Did he?” His voice could have frozen the River Thames.

She nodded and lowered her head to stare at her hands, grasped in her lap. “Of course, I already know why. Father feared I’d worm my way out of yet another marriage.”

He crooked a finger under her chin and raised her face. He studied her as if he had preternatural vision and could make out her expression. “And would you have tried, given the chance?”

She tried to read his eyes in the darkness. It was no use. She shook her head. She thought she detected a slight smile curving his lips.

When he spoke, his tone was gentle. “Amelia, I distinctly recall us discussing this very subject not a week ago. Why did you give Tully’s words such credence? Not to mention we could have cleared matters up at the ball had you simply told me what he’d said, and avoided all this.”

His dexterous fingers had found their way to the front of her night shift to make quick work of unfastening the tiny buttons. He was nearly to her breastbone when she found her voice, breathless though it was.

“I did not want to be the cause of a scene. I’ve read enough books to know men can be rash. I didn’t want you to call him out.”

His teeth flashed white, and he huffed out a laugh. “I do not waste my time with such nonsense.”

For some reason, his words deflated her—but only for a moment.

His lips found her throat. He pressed soft kisses down the column working his way to her collarbone. The scrape of his whiskers was doing delicious things to her insides.

“As for that bit about me seducing you to…what did you call it?”

“Gain my wifely compliance,” she breathed.

He nibbled her shoulder, then nuzzled the cleavage between her breasts. “We are married. I have no need to seduce you into compliance or submission or any damn thing.”

“That’s true,” she admitted.

“Have we cleared up this business of the whys and wherefores of our marriage, once and for all?”

“I…yes,” she said, her thinking ability growing weaker by the second.

“Good. Because I want you,” he rasped, his lips moving over the upper swell of one breast. “I’ve wanted you since before we departed for the ball.”

“You have?”

With a soft curse he straightened. “This is not the most comfortable position.”

He stood, shrugged out of his robe and let it fall, then helped her to her feet.

The front of her nightshift gaped, and instinct had her raising her hands to drag the folds closed.

“No. Let me look at you.” He slid the sleeves of the thin lawn gown down her arms. When he released the material, it puddled at her feet like white foam.

With almost reverent hands, he cupped and weighed her small breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

They responded in an instant, tightening, just as, deep in her core, everything went tight and hot with need.

A heady idea struck her. “Can I…?” She hesitated only a moment before reaching between them with both hands to grasp his fully erect shaft.

He hissed in a breath and his hips bucked toward her. “Holy Mother of God,” he choked.

She reveled in her own womanly power over her lion of a husband. She slid her palms over his pulsing flesh starting at the base where coarse hair grew. His skin felt hot and silky smooth, like molded wax. She touched the tip of his manhood with one fingertip and found it slightly damp.

He emitted a sound that was half-groan, half-whimper and his entire body shivered under her exploratory touch. “Too good,” he said through gritted teeth.

He dropped to his knees before her. He grasped her hips, pressing her into the mahogany baseboard, the wood cold against her bare bottom. Then he leaned forward to nuzzle her belly. His hands eased between them, gripping her inner thighs to part them.

“Chase? Chase ,” she squeaked when his tongue dipped into her curls to flick over her most secret place. “ No . What are you—”

“Shh,” he breathed into her apex.

Everything in her went weak. Holding herself upright took every ounce of effort she possessed.

“Part your legs for me, sweetheart.”

She couldn’t. Not with his face—

He grasped one ankle in a gentle yet firm grip and dragged it several inches to the side.

She wobbled, her fingers grappling behind her for purchase.

With no hesitation, he kissed her, there.

Intense pleasure shafted through her, and she heard her own hoarse whimper. Her hands fisted the coverlet, and her head arched back. She should push him away. She should insist he stop this madness.

She couldn’t. She ached for more of the heady torment.

She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the intoxicating rush of sensation flooding her as his lips suckled and slid over her, as his tongue teased in and out and around the part of her longing to be filled.

He slid his fingers into her, stretching her, then withdrawing to caress her lightly, so lightly. Faster, then slower, then faster again his lips and tongue and fingers danced over her, heightening her desire until her insides went molten hot.

So close, that shining pinnacle of delight was so close. Her entire body trembled as her inner pressure built. “ Chase, ” she pleaded.

“Now, Amelia,” he purred, his lips brushing that most deliciously sensitive place enveloped at her apex.

Delight arced through her. “ Yes. ”

“Let go for me, darling. Now. ” He closed his lips closed over her and suckled.

Her release crashed through her in wave after dizzying wave. Her fingers wove into his thick hair, kneading, tugging, holding him to her.

Then she was tumbling, her body limp with satiety. Strong arms caught her, holding her to him effortlessly as he flung back the covers and lay her in the center of the bed.

He sprawled atop her, his weight pressing her into smooth, cool sheets.

She parted her legs, bending her knees, inviting his hips to nestle against hers.

His thick manhood nudged at her still thrumming flesh. With a deep, masculine groan, he impaled himself in her.

He cupped her face between damp, rough palms. “Nothing has ever felt so good.” He covered her mouth kissing her with such tenderness, she thought she might expire from the corresponding sweet ache in her heart. Slowly, as if he couldn’t bear to part from her, he eased out of her only to sink himself into her, again, and again, and again.

She wrapped her arms around him, glorying in his weight, the fullness of their joining, the sweat dampening his back, the desperate, nonsensical things he whispered against her lips.

She could not get close enough to him. With a shameless whimper of need, she arched up meeting his thrusts, seeking his heat and more of the delicious friction.

Pleasure unfurled deep inside her. With no real warning, another release crashed through her. She cried out his name, wrapping her legs around him, locking him to her as her body shuddered against his.

“Oh, God, yes ,” he choked. He reared up, his hips swiveling fast and hard into hers until his body convulsed and he loosed a long, exultant groan. When he was spent, he collapsed atop her, his heart thumping hard into hers, his breaths harsh rasps in her ear.

After several moments, he rolled off her and onto his side, reaching one strong arm to pull her backside into the cocoon of his body. Then he reached for the crumpled bedcovers, heaving them over the two of them. Warmth from his body suffused hers and she snuggled closer feeling more content than she could remember since… forever .

He traced his fingertips down the side of her breast, over her waist, finally laying one heavy palm against her belly.

“Tonight, you stay here. Promise me.”

She nodded, a smile curving her lips.

That was the last thing she recalled before waking up, just past dawn to find herself very much alone in the big bed.