Page 47 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
Pleasure pierced him. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that,” he said.
“I don’t want you to last,” she said. She smiled at him, a creature poised between innocence and knowledge. “I like seducing you.”
“You’re too expert at this.”
She shook her head slowly from side to side.
He pressed down on her hips, seating her on him. All he could think was: how much longer did she want this to last?
She slowed her movements, up and down, a little to the side, then raising up on her knees to tease him once more.
He bent his attention to her other breast, praying his stamina would last. If he could withstand the next few moments, perhaps he’d be the one to drive her mad and not vice versa. Either way, they’d both be delighted.
His hands clenched on her waist. He wished she was naked so he could feel every inch of her. Kissing her neck, he tasted the dampness of her skin, the heat of it. Her heart beat in a fierce rhythm and her breath came in gasps to equal his.
Now, it must be now. He couldn’t last any longer.
“Come with me, Virginia,” he whispered against her ear. “Come with me.”
She moaned against his lips as she climaxed. A second later he was with her, the world graying as his body shuddered.
Hannah knocked softly on the door, waited a moment, then opened it slowly.
She tiptoed through the sitting room. No doubt the silence meant the countess was asleep. She hoped it was not a fever or anything contagious.
When she reached the bedroom, she peered inside only to find the bed empty.
Opening the doors of the armoire, she surveyed the dresses. One was missing.
The room smelled of the rose scent the countess favored. Turning, Hannah faced the bed again.
The dowager countess would be pleased about these developments.
Yet the situation was also worrisome. Macrath Sinclair was not the type of man one tricked. Nor was Virginia, the Countess of Barrett, the kind of woman who could take advantage of someone with impunity.
Still, it was none of her concern, was it? The countess and her mother-in-law wouldn’t be the first women to take matters into their own hands. That thought did not ease her fears about the future.
A feeling of foreboding swamped her as she closed the armoire doors slowly, then left the room.
Long minutes later Virginia pulled back, her expression a combination of embarrassment and incredulity.
He stroked his knuckles over her heated cheeks, feeling his heart expand. He was happy, and the feeling buoyed him, expanded through him like air into a balloon.
For years he’d been willing to do almost anything to succeed, and he had. Until now he hadn’t realized he’d neglected a vital part of life. He hadn’t thought about his own happiness. Now it seemed of paramount importance.
In a day his life had changed course. One single day and suddenly his focus was different.
How did he retain this feeling of elation? He suspected the answer was absurdly simple—by keeping Virginia with him.
How did he coax her into loving him? Not with wealth, because she’d always been wealthy. He doubted he could pretty up his speech enough for it to be considered poetry. What could convince her to love him?
He’d always been able to find answers for his problems, either from correspondence with men more learned than he or by seeking out answers through trial and error. Who, though, did he go to for advice about love?
Brianag? Perhaps she could furnish him a potion to use, if she didn’t strike him for hinting she had powers of witchcraft. He would have paid the devil a ransom if Virginia remained with him.
She got to her knees and moved to his side. She rearranged her skirts and buttoned her bodice while he made himself presentable.
“Stay here. Don’t return to London,” he said.
