Of Silk and Steam
Page 26
No. Barrons wasn’t stupid, after all. What in blazes was his angle here?
But then you never have understood my motives…
She went pale. She felt it, all of the blood running from her extremities and washing out of her face, for if he wasn’t playing games with her, that meant his words were real. For a moment she felt as if she’d caught a glimpse of his true intentions. Her. All along, he’d played for her.
No.
Breath coming just a little faster, she forced herself to school her features, hiding the maelstrom inside her, for this was exactly what she feared the most. To lose herself to a man.
In the silence, she realized he was watching her, no doubt drawing his own damned conclusions, and Mina suddenly wanted to lash out, to force him off balance too so that she wasn’t alone in this.
“Our secret is safe, if that is what puts that look in your eye,” he murmured. “I’ve told no one what occurred.”
“A strange thing that you should mention secrets…” She pressed closer, her skirts rasping against his pants as she placed her glass of champagne on the rail. “One wonders at yours.”
“What makes you think I have any?”
“Everybody has secrets. It’s just a matter of searching for them.”
His gaze sharpened. This time he looked right through her, as if hunting for her own.
You’ll never find them. Her lashes lowered and she lifted up onto her toes, one hand hesitantly pressed against his chest—the one with her claws. For a second she wondered if she were doing the right thing. Hesitation let her feel the warmth from his body, the enticing scent of bay rum curling through her nostrils, making her body tingle. Determination returned. She owed her father this. Turning her lips to his ear, she whispered, “I always wondered at your friendship with that rogue from the rookeries.”
His head half turned. “The Devil of Whitechapel?”
“Did you know you look remarkably like one of the lads in his gang? One could say…the spitting image…”
Everything between them changed. Stillness radiated through his hard body, a silent menace. His hand came up, curling around her throat with soft, delicate fingers, the faint hint of a threat. “I wouldn’t have expected to see you near the rookeries.”
“Oh, I’m not that foolish. I sent someone else, a man of mine who’s very good at tracking down things people don’t want others to know. He followed you there this morning and now I have photographs, you see—”
Those fingers tightened. Not enough to restrict her breathing, but enough to set her heart to pounding. “Photographs of what?”
“The boy. Who is he, Barrons? Too old to be your get. A brother then… Caine’s, perhaps?” She threw the lure into the wind, but he didn’t bite as expected. “Not Caine’s,” she said slowly, her mind racing. Another thought sprang to mind. The icy-eyed Duke of Caine’s image and a barely remembered memory of what his wife’s portrait had looked like. Her father had had a copy of it. Good God…
“You’re not his, are you?” Oh, he had the look of the duchess about him—her full mouth, mostly—but not the duke. There was nothing of the duke in his features. Excitement fired in her blood. “You’re a bastard.”
Those fingers tightened.
Mina sucked in a breath, her gaze lifting to his. Barrons’s expression was emotionless, but his eyes… Goodness, she was right!
“An interesting theory. Do you know”—his eyes glittered—“I think I frightened you last night and again just now. Here you are, trying to find something—anything—to put me off balance.”
“That’s not a yes. Or a no.”
He stepped closer, the sounds of the orchestra swirling around them. The hard press of his body was hypnotizing, and he lowered his head to hers, his breath whispering over her lips. “Are you frightened of your attraction to me?”
“I’ll find the truth. You know I will. No matter how hard I have to dig.”
“I am my father’s son. I am everything he has made me. And if you dare threaten me”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“you had best be prepared to back up your claims. I know your weaknesses now, Mina.” One hand slid around her waist, dragging her hips tight against his. “I know you want me. The question is, do you truly wish to destroy me, or are you simply trying to find a way to protect yourself from me? From this?” He ground his hips harshly against her.
She sucked in a sharp breath, but there was no escape. No answer. His mouth came down upon hers, hard and brutal, arms crushing her hard against his chest. The world staggered around her, or perhaps that was just them, with Barrons muscling her backward until her back struck the wall. His teeth hit hers, tongue forcing its way into her mouth. Mina’s fingers curled in his coat collar, unable to do anything more against this onslaught than to yield.
Let us be honest. You want to yield, a secret little part of her whispered.
Music echoed through the ballroom, punctuated with laughter. Oh God. Somehow she managed to turn her head, just enough to whisper, “Not here.”
Stillness leached through him. He bit at her ear, drawing back just enough to look at her, a scorching look that Mina returned. Then she boldly slid her hand into his hair and dragged him back against her, her mouth capturing his soft laugh.
Somewhere a door latch clicked open and he spilled her into the warm darkness of a room—a study perhaps, she couldn’t tell—as he spun her around, her back hitting the door and slamming it shut. And then she was no longer simply yielding to him but kissing him back just as hard and fierce as he was, her filigreed claws raking down inside his coat, over his chest, tearing a stolen hiss from him.
“Yes,” he whispered, a fist sinking into her skirts, cupping her bottom. Drawing her leg up until he pressed hard against the aching chasm of her thighs.
Mouth rasping over hers, he bit at her lip, thrusting just a little against her. Capturing her hands, he turned her and forced her up against the door, her breasts crushed against the timber. One knee wedged between her thighs, his teeth scraping against her neck. His tongue darted out to trace the leaping thump of her carotid as his fist curled in the back of her skirts. He forced them higher, cool air whispering over her stockinged calves.
Mina moaned, her nipples hard and aching against her corset. The doorknob pressed into her hip and she had the sudden shocking thought that if anyone turned it, they’d find her here, gasping and writhing as Barrons buried himself beneath her skirts. The rest of the ball was so close, yet nobody would ever suspect what was going on behind the door.
But then you never have understood my motives…
She went pale. She felt it, all of the blood running from her extremities and washing out of her face, for if he wasn’t playing games with her, that meant his words were real. For a moment she felt as if she’d caught a glimpse of his true intentions. Her. All along, he’d played for her.
No.
Breath coming just a little faster, she forced herself to school her features, hiding the maelstrom inside her, for this was exactly what she feared the most. To lose herself to a man.
In the silence, she realized he was watching her, no doubt drawing his own damned conclusions, and Mina suddenly wanted to lash out, to force him off balance too so that she wasn’t alone in this.
“Our secret is safe, if that is what puts that look in your eye,” he murmured. “I’ve told no one what occurred.”
“A strange thing that you should mention secrets…” She pressed closer, her skirts rasping against his pants as she placed her glass of champagne on the rail. “One wonders at yours.”
“What makes you think I have any?”
“Everybody has secrets. It’s just a matter of searching for them.”
His gaze sharpened. This time he looked right through her, as if hunting for her own.
You’ll never find them. Her lashes lowered and she lifted up onto her toes, one hand hesitantly pressed against his chest—the one with her claws. For a second she wondered if she were doing the right thing. Hesitation let her feel the warmth from his body, the enticing scent of bay rum curling through her nostrils, making her body tingle. Determination returned. She owed her father this. Turning her lips to his ear, she whispered, “I always wondered at your friendship with that rogue from the rookeries.”
His head half turned. “The Devil of Whitechapel?”
“Did you know you look remarkably like one of the lads in his gang? One could say…the spitting image…”
Everything between them changed. Stillness radiated through his hard body, a silent menace. His hand came up, curling around her throat with soft, delicate fingers, the faint hint of a threat. “I wouldn’t have expected to see you near the rookeries.”
“Oh, I’m not that foolish. I sent someone else, a man of mine who’s very good at tracking down things people don’t want others to know. He followed you there this morning and now I have photographs, you see—”
Those fingers tightened. Not enough to restrict her breathing, but enough to set her heart to pounding. “Photographs of what?”
“The boy. Who is he, Barrons? Too old to be your get. A brother then… Caine’s, perhaps?” She threw the lure into the wind, but he didn’t bite as expected. “Not Caine’s,” she said slowly, her mind racing. Another thought sprang to mind. The icy-eyed Duke of Caine’s image and a barely remembered memory of what his wife’s portrait had looked like. Her father had had a copy of it. Good God…
“You’re not his, are you?” Oh, he had the look of the duchess about him—her full mouth, mostly—but not the duke. There was nothing of the duke in his features. Excitement fired in her blood. “You’re a bastard.”
Those fingers tightened.
Mina sucked in a breath, her gaze lifting to his. Barrons’s expression was emotionless, but his eyes… Goodness, she was right!
“An interesting theory. Do you know”—his eyes glittered—“I think I frightened you last night and again just now. Here you are, trying to find something—anything—to put me off balance.”
“That’s not a yes. Or a no.”
He stepped closer, the sounds of the orchestra swirling around them. The hard press of his body was hypnotizing, and he lowered his head to hers, his breath whispering over her lips. “Are you frightened of your attraction to me?”
“I’ll find the truth. You know I will. No matter how hard I have to dig.”
“I am my father’s son. I am everything he has made me. And if you dare threaten me”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“you had best be prepared to back up your claims. I know your weaknesses now, Mina.” One hand slid around her waist, dragging her hips tight against his. “I know you want me. The question is, do you truly wish to destroy me, or are you simply trying to find a way to protect yourself from me? From this?” He ground his hips harshly against her.
She sucked in a sharp breath, but there was no escape. No answer. His mouth came down upon hers, hard and brutal, arms crushing her hard against his chest. The world staggered around her, or perhaps that was just them, with Barrons muscling her backward until her back struck the wall. His teeth hit hers, tongue forcing its way into her mouth. Mina’s fingers curled in his coat collar, unable to do anything more against this onslaught than to yield.
Let us be honest. You want to yield, a secret little part of her whispered.
Music echoed through the ballroom, punctuated with laughter. Oh God. Somehow she managed to turn her head, just enough to whisper, “Not here.”
Stillness leached through him. He bit at her ear, drawing back just enough to look at her, a scorching look that Mina returned. Then she boldly slid her hand into his hair and dragged him back against her, her mouth capturing his soft laugh.
Somewhere a door latch clicked open and he spilled her into the warm darkness of a room—a study perhaps, she couldn’t tell—as he spun her around, her back hitting the door and slamming it shut. And then she was no longer simply yielding to him but kissing him back just as hard and fierce as he was, her filigreed claws raking down inside his coat, over his chest, tearing a stolen hiss from him.
“Yes,” he whispered, a fist sinking into her skirts, cupping her bottom. Drawing her leg up until he pressed hard against the aching chasm of her thighs.
Mouth rasping over hers, he bit at her lip, thrusting just a little against her. Capturing her hands, he turned her and forced her up against the door, her breasts crushed against the timber. One knee wedged between her thighs, his teeth scraping against her neck. His tongue darted out to trace the leaping thump of her carotid as his fist curled in the back of her skirts. He forced them higher, cool air whispering over her stockinged calves.
Mina moaned, her nipples hard and aching against her corset. The doorknob pressed into her hip and she had the sudden shocking thought that if anyone turned it, they’d find her here, gasping and writhing as Barrons buried himself beneath her skirts. The rest of the ball was so close, yet nobody would ever suspect what was going on behind the door.
