Part 26 (2/2)

”I think I'd like to be alone for a little while.” She gave her hostess a determined smile. ”Don't worry about me. Why don't you check on the other guests, or take the evening for yourself? Find something diverting and enjoy yourself. I'll be fine.”

Miss Breckenridge's eyes unfocused. Then she nodded once, turned, and wandered off without a word.

Ellie stared after her for a moment, feeling more than a little guilty. Either she'd inadvertently offended her hostess ... or once again, she'd circ.u.mvented her free will with accidental Compulsion. Ellie was definitely going to have to wrangle that skill under control before-No. Mastery over Compulsion wouldn't matter one jot, once she and her mother were confined to some shadowy hovel in the middle of nowhere.

Sighing, Ellie retraced her steps and headed for the opposite wing. Cain had said he'd meet her in the conservatory. Granted, she'd said she wouldn't meet him until tonight, but given that her own guest chamber was no longer a viable retreat, the conservatory would be as peaceful a place to wait as any.

When she arrived, she found herself alone amongst the many blooms. The spicy scent of exotic flowers enveloped her. She wandered up and down the lush walkways, ducking low-hanging vines and pausing now and again to run a fingertip along the satin petals of a particularly breathtaking bloom. She was thus engaged when she sensed, rather than heard, a presence behind her.

”You're early,” he said softly.

Smiling, she spun to face him. ”As are you.”

”I couldn't wait.”

She glanced behind him. ”No Mac Eric this time?”

Cain shook his head, his eyes crinkled with laughter. ”I tried. But we weren't five paces from my door when we chanced upon an unaccountably effusive Miss Breckenridge. Quite a departure from her reception in the music room.”

Ellie coughed guiltily. ”Amicable, was she?”

”She hugged me,” her vampire warrior replied as if he'd never suffered a worse indignity. ”I asked her if she'd like to pet the puppy, and she said she'd like to keep Moch-eirigh forever.”

”So you're letting her watch Mac Eric for a while?”

He shook his head. ”I let her keep her.”

”But you love that puppy!”

”Trust me,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. ”I have no difficulty stumbling across loveable puppies. I'll probably find another before we even leave the conservatory.”

”Are we leaving the conservatory?” Ellie tried for an arch look, but couldn't help grinning up at him.

His sea-green eyes were nothing short of smoldering. ”Aren't we?”

She accepted his proffered arm without hesitation. A delicious s.h.i.+ver slid up her spine. Her shoulders rolled backward in response, causing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to rise and her bosom to tighten. She was acutely aware of every inch of her body, of the thin fabric of her chemise brus.h.i.+ng against her flushed skin. She felt oddly naked beneath the oppressive layers of lawn and linen and silk. As if Cain's heated gaze could see right through the lace and flounces and corset to the woman trembling beneath.

Her fingers clutched his arm even tighter. Even voluminous s.h.i.+rtsleeves tucked into a well-tailored jacket could not disguise the strength contained within, the toned muscle of his body. Hard. Strong. Hers.

This was what she'd been waiting for. Longing for. A moment to cherish forever.

The walk from the conservatory to Cain's guest quarters might not have taken half so long, were it not for his inability to refrain from sidelong glances that led directly to stolen kisses. With her curls crushed between her back and the wall, and her hands wound tight about his neck as she eagerly met each kiss with her own, a single pa.s.serby would have spelled ruin if she were at all concerned about guarding her reputation. She was not. Her legs were all but twined about him as he spun with her across the threshold and into the dark stillness of his bedchamber at last.

She half-expected him to tumble directly upon the bed and divest her of these confining layers. Rather, that was precisely what she hoped he was about.

But, first, he kissed her soundly before stepping a few feet away to coax the dwindling embers in his fireplace into a softly burning blaze.

The dancing light fell upon a sumptuous master bed, with matching mahogany nightstands on either side. Upon one stood a vase with a single pink camellia. On the other rested a life-size marble bust of what was undoubtedly one of the Breckenridge forebears. Ellie focused her gaze back on the single flower, preferring its natural beauty to the profile carved in stone. The bust's very presence made the general sense of inferiority Ellie had always endured even starker. Not only wasn't she remotely connected to aristocracy, she couldn't even remember her own father, much less have mementos of cherished ancestors. She'd always just had Mama.

Ellie sat on the edge of the bed and tried to push all thoughts of her impending sojourn from her mind. She tugged her slippers from her feet and bent to smell the camellia. As lonely as she had been without a father, how much worse had it been for her mother to have loved and lost her husband? Would this moment shared with Cain bring Ellie years of remembered pleasure, or soul-wrenching dreams of what she had once tasted, but could never truly have?

She shook the foolishness from her head and turned to face Cain. She would have tonight ... and it would be perfect.

He rose to his feet. The fire's welcome heat eased the chill from the air, and the crackling flames cast a warm glow upon his skin as he reached for Ellie's hand. He stared at her as if she were the exotic flower. As if he, too, wanted to sear every touch, every taste, into his memory to relive again and again. Perhaps he did. Perhaps this moment seemed just as tender, just as fleeting, just as vital for him as it did her. He had been a hunter for centuries. Would no doubt continue to be. To him, honor meant upholding the values of his clan. For her, protecting her mother. Both of them put their respective families above all else. Conflicting goals, but shared ideals.

Cain pulled her to her feet, seated himself at the edge of the mattress, and nestled her between his thighs. He seemed content to spend hours thusly, hand in hand, his unreadable gaze never wavering from hers.

Ellie was having none of it.

With a raised brow, she tugged her hands from his. Slowly, she crisscrossed her arms behind her back, conscious of how the action lifted the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s very nearly to his parted lips. Almost, but not quite. His gaze dipped. Although she doubted a full-blooded vampire had cause for breathing, Ellie could have sworn she heard a quick intake of breath.

She tugged loose the laces holding her gown together. The sleeves correspondingly relaxed, exposing first one shoulder, then the other. With nothing left to hold it in place, the lace fichu tumbled from her bodice. The triangle of lace slid across one of Cain's parted thighs. He flinched as if the weightless sc.r.a.p scalded his flesh through his calfskin breeches. His eyes closed as if he were willing himself to withstand pain caused by a wisp of material that had once rested across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and against her nipples.

He opened his eyes. He was a man tortured. Intoxicated. Powerless.

Ellie returned her hands to her sides and brushed her fingertips across his leg where the fichu had fallen. Her s.h.i.+ft and her corset supported her bosom, but did not cover it. Her nipples puckered deliciously beneath the heat of his gaze.

He licked his lips. Slowly, teasingly, as if what he desired most of all was to fasten his mouth upon her breast and suckle.

Ellie could hardly breathe for wanting him to hurry up and do so. She eased forward, inclining so slowly as for the motion to be nearly undetectable, were it not for her b.r.e.a.s.t.s' trajectory ever nearer to his face.

He was definitely breathing. Hard.

Her right nipple grazed the hollow of his cheek. The side of his mouth. The firm contours of his lower lip. Her insides clenched in pleasure, pitching her forward, sending her trembling breast directly into his waiting mouth.

He laved the nipple once, twice, then began to suckle. He tugged the sleeves from her arms, shoved her gown to her hips, to the floor. His hands slid from the backs of her knees to the backs of her thighs, simultaneously lifting her s.h.i.+ft and guiding her forward so that she straddled his hips, the hard length of his encaged manhood pressing against the moist surface of her bare- ”Ellie.” His eyes hot on hers, he lifted his mouth from her breast ever so slowly, dragging her nipple along his tongue and across his lower lip to glisten wetly before his parted mouth. ”Are you certain you want to-”

Her hands were at his shoulders before she consciously gave them the order to do so, shoving him backward onto the bed. She covered his mouth with hers, stopping his questions with her teeth, with her tongue. She closed her fists over his s.h.i.+rt, rending the fine linen as she exposed his chest to her wanton fingers, to the sensitive nubs of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she pressed them against him.

His hands fastened about her waist, rocking her hips, slowly grinding her against him until she caught the rhythm with a gasp of ignited desire. Without breaking rhythm, without tearing his mouth from hers, he slid his hands up her spine to her corset. One by one, he loosened the ribbon from the hooks, until the whalebone prison fell away, and with it, what was left of her chemise.

One hand pressed to the base of her spine to hold her in place. He leaned up from the bed just enough to allow her to whip free his jacket, his waistcoat, his s.h.i.+rtsleeves, until nothing was left but his boots and his breeches.

She slid down his body until she knelt on the floor before him. She tugged free one boot, then the other. Her deliberate slowness in doing so must have exhausted the last of his preternatural patience, for he had his fall unb.u.t.toned and his breeches discarded before she had even taken a breath.

He pulled her up, gently, sweetly. Holding her close, he rolled so that she was no longer atop him. He had one arm propped on either side of her ribs, and the naked length of him was hot against her belly. She was now the prisoner and he the captor. But the look on his face indicated she still very much held all the power.

”Kiss my breast,” she whispered, arching toward his mouth. ”Touch me as I long to touch you.”

”With pleasure.”

He bent his head to her breast. The knuckles of one hand brushed against the plump curve, then slid to her side, her hip, the inside of her thigh. Once again, her insides clenched with need as he stroked closer and closer to her core, never quite touching the center where she ached for him.

His other hand left her cheek. He splayed both across her thighs, as if preparing to force them apart. No need. Ellie was beyond ready. If he didn't give them both release soon, she was going to scream.

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