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CHAPTERFIVE
Lucinda slowly stirred awake, conscious of the sweet ache between her thighs. Memories flooded through her, and she jolted upright. She blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim surroundings, noting a fire crackled in the hearth. Holding the sheet to her chest, her heart pounding, she stared at the Earl of Chisholm. He sat on the bed, his back leaned against the carved headboard, one knee drawn up, so the flat of his sole was on the sheet. The man was naked and magnificently formed with his exceptionally wide shoulders, muscled chest, and powerful arms. He was also staring at her, a slight frown between his brows, as if he had encountered a puzzle that gave him problems to decipher.
“You were watching me sleep,” Lucinda murmured with a sense of startled recognition.
“I was.”
“Did I snore?” she gasped.
He grinned. “Like a monster.”
She laughed. “You teasing wretch!”
The enormity of everything settled over her, and she gripped the sheets until her fingers ached.
“I can tell you are not a lady used to…having a tryst.”
“Am I that transparent?’
He touched his thumb to her lips, and a wave of warmth came over her, spreading through her entire body. “You are clutching the sheets as if you fear I mean to ravish you…again.”
Soft humor bloomed through her at the idea she might appear to him as a damsel. “If not for a dare, I doubt I would be here.”
“I am intrigued. Who dared you?”
“Three of my dearest friends,” she said, smiling.
“Scandalous.” The gleam in his eyes revealed him to be darkly amused.
Silence fell, and they stared at each other. Her grip tightened on the sheets, and a soft flush went through her body. “The night is over,” she said softly.
“Is it?”
“I should hurry and return to my chambers.”
His eyes narrowed on her with intensity. Then the earl smiled, the curve of his mouth, slow and sensual and mocking. “The night has just begun, my lady.”
Lucinda laughed, the sound startled and husky. “I…”
“It is only a few minutes after three. We have at least two hours before dawn.”
His hand snaked out and drew her to him, draping her body over his. Lucinda gripped his shoulders to steady herself from tumbling back on the bed. Alexander dipped his head and claimed her mouth in a wickedly carnal kiss. Protesting his sensual assault seemed pointless and impossible. For she was caught up in the breathless wonder of his embrace, and she wanted to melt her body into the feeling. Lucinda completely yielded to his carnal mastering, and all too soon, she was again cresting and crying out her pleasure in the crook of his neck.
It was close to dawn when Alexander stopped loving her. Lucinda was exhausted and shocked by his energy. At times they had briefly slept, but his kisses and questing fingers always roused her, and she would reach for him, which was the only encouragement he needed to mount her again.
He devastated her senses for the night, breaking her apart with pleasure until she sobbed. When she fell into a deep slumber, it was atop his chest, and the sheets wrapped tightly around them.
* * *
For a long minute,Alexander gazed at the woman sleeping in his bed. He grimaced, for he knew he had exhausted her. It was odd that he was even awake when he had almost damn well killed them with his excesses. In all his three and thirty years, he’d never had a lover he had been compelled to take more than twice for the night. He still was uncertain what the hell had happened with the viscountess.
He idly wondered if his insatiability had been because he’d been without a lover for several months. Alexander frowned. He was not a man who easily lost control. He had shaped himself so that he was not governed or controlled by any vices or lust. He governed his emotions and desires, not the other way around. Yet, it had been impossible for him to deny the cravings Lucinda had provoked.
A sudden restlessness filled him, for he did not like anything he could not understand or control invading his life. She stirred, softly murmuring his name.
“I will gut you if you touch me again,” she muttered.
Alexander smiled. The lady dreamed of him. For no reason he could identify, he reached out and brushed the back of his knuckles down the bridge of her small nose. His touch was light and tender, almost teasing, and her lashes fluttered open. “Good morning,” he murmured.
