Wicked Christmas (Regency Sinners 8) Page 6

  “He could make things difficult for me, yes,” Martin conceded. “But that is not the main reason I would prefer not to draw his attention to myself or my actions.”

  “Then what is?”

  It was a good question, Martin acknowledged, as well as being a relevant one. Except he had never shared his reasoning on the matter with anyone. Nor was his having chosen to open his surgery in Stonewell accidental. His location had been chosen with deliberation.

  He studied Monique through narrowed lids, knowing he owed her some sort of explanation, if not the whole truth of the matter. She, perhaps more than anyone, might appreciate his need for silence.

  And yet he still felt a certain reluctance to confide something so personal to himself.

  He looked away. “I have sensed in the past that the duke feels a certain caution where I am concerned, most especially in my attending his wife. I am afraid I can be rather blunt in my diagnosis and advice pertaining to the treatment going forward.”

  “You? Blunt?” Monique’s eyes widened with such feigned incredulity, it was impossible to mistake it for anything but the mockery it obviously was. “Never!”

  Martin was unaccustomed to being teased, and yet this young lady seemed to take delight in doing so at every opportunity. “You really are enjoying yourself at my expense,” he stated irritably.

  “I really am,” she acknowledge with a short laugh.

  That humor lit up her face. Her eyes glowed a deeper blue, there was a blush in her cheeks, her teeth were small and pearly white against the deep rose of her lips.

  Martin inwardly cursed as he felt a now-familiar stirring and hardening of his cock. This was absolutely not the time for him to become aroused again by this woman. What weight would his apology carry if he once again stood before her with an erection tenting his pantaloons?

  At one and thirty, Martin had believed he was in control of his baser needs, not the other way about. Every time he was in Monique’s company that resistance crumpled to dust at his feet without her seeming to even try to test his control. Everything about her, her delicacy of appearance, her innate sensuality, and now her sense of humor and teasing, all appealed to Martin on a level he had never encountered before.

  He gave a defeated sigh. “Could we perhaps begin our acquaintance again?”

  She quirked one blonde brow. “As in, ‘Good evening, sir, I am very pleased to meet you. My name is Monique Dupre’?”

  He frowned his irritation. “No, not quite so far back as that.”

  Monique studied Martin for several long seconds. The sincerity of his expression was unmistakable.

  As her attraction to him was just as undeniable.

  The duchess was right; men as arrogant and unapproachable as her husband and Martin Easton were both unique and most definitely a challenge.

  Monique had been too busy this past year supporting herself, surviving, to think of any gentleman as being attractive. But Martin’s dark good looks were undeniable, drawing her to him much like a moth to a flame. He had also, she realized ruefully, caused her to laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. Perhaps ironic laughter directed at Martin rather than with him, but it was laughter nevertheless. She—

  Monique and Martin both turned as the salon door suddenly opened behind them.

  The Duchess of Stonewell stood in the doorway, taking in their close proximity at a glance. “As it is now well past dinnertime, I have arranged for the two of you to dine together in the small family dining room. No, do not argue,” she told the doctor. “As the weather is too awful for you to even think of traveling home again this evening, I am also having a bedchamber prepared so that you can stay here with us overnight.”

  “I—”

  “Do not argue about that either,” she warned, “when I am well aware, from having spoken with Mrs. Hodges when we met by accident in the town, that your housekeeper is away over Christmas, leaving you alone at Rochester House, and so not expected home tonight.”

  Monique had no idea who was the more surprised by the duchess’s pronouncement, herself or Martin.

  Monique, because it seemed the other woman had decided she was to dine alone with Martin, in the family dining room.

  Or Martin, because Angelique Sinclair had announced imperiously that not only would he be dining here this evening with Monique, but afterwards spending the night at Stonewell Park too.

  Chapter 10

  “I trust this is not an imposition for you?”

  Monique turned from where she had been contemplating the leaping flames of the newly lit fire as it gave a warm and cheery ambience to the Stonewells’ small family dining room, where she and Martin now sat alone at the dining table.

  Perhaps not the most ideal situation to find herself in with the gentleman she already found far too disturbing for comfort.

  She gave a shrug. “I do not see why it should be. It is dinnertime, and we both need to eat, after all.”

  And that, Martin acknowledged ruefully, put him firmly in his place. Although what that place was, he was not quite sure. Despite his apology—apologies!—there was no denying the fact he and Monique had become lovers earlier today. Maybe not in the fullest sense of the word, but enough as to make no difference. For the two of them to now be dining alone together only intensified his complete physical awareness of her.

  He lowered hooded lids. “You would perhaps have preferred to join the other guests in the main dining room?”

  Monique smiled tightly. “I am no more comfortable in such exalted company than you are.”

  Martin made no answer but instead nodded dismissal of the footman who had just finished pouring the wine and then served the soup course, a rich pheasant broth in keeping with both the season and the cold snow falling heavily outside.

  It would have been madness on Martin’s part to refuse the duchess’s invitation either to stay for dinner or to spend the night here. If he had insisted on returning to Rochester House, he might have instead spent the night in one of the deep snow drifts forming outside rather than reaching his home.

  “Do you have family to return to in London after the holiday?” he prompted politely before taking a sip of his wine.

  Returning to London at all was going to be difficult for Monique, after once again spending several days in the opulence and warmth of two of the Stonewells’ homes. Monique had visited and stayed in all the homes owned by the Duke of Stonewell during her employment with his mother-in-law. The thought of returning to the bare and chilly room that was now her own home was not an inviting one. As for her family…

  “You mentioned your mother to me yesterday,” Martin reminded.

  She nodded abruptly. “She has been dead for four years.”

  He gave a pained frown. “I am sorry.”

  “My father, as I have already stated, was never married to my mother. He is dead too now, in any case,” Monique stated flatly.

  “Siblings?”

  “I…I have a sister.” Her gaze no longer met his. “The two of us are not…emotionally close.”

  Martin winced. “I seem to have an unfortunate ability to remind you of subjects that are painful for you.”

  “I accepted my lot in life long ago, and for the main part, it has been a happy one.” Her years of living with her mother had not been ones of wealth and comfort, but they had been full of love. Lady Kingston had not been an easy woman to work for, but the duchess’s kinder nature had made up for that unpleasantness. This past year spent living completely alone in London had been the most difficult of her life so far. “But as you have asked those questions of me, I shall now ask them of you.” The frankness of her gaze was challenging.

  “Which ones?” he delayed.

  “Is your mother still alive? Your father? Do you have siblings?”

  Exactly the reciprocal questions Martin had feared Monique might ask of him.

  Then he should not have asked them of her if he did not wish her to ask those same questions in return!

  “My mother died when I was ten, after which I resided with a maiden great-aunt until I was eighteen and old enough to make my own way in the world. My father died several years ago. I have an older brother.”

  “Are the two of you close?”

  His jaw tightened. “No.”

  Monique’s smile was self-derisive. “What a pitiable pair of orphans we are.”

  Martin held back his reply until the silent footman had removed their soup bowls and served their second course of goose and seasonal vegetables before he once again departed the room. “I do not believe myself to be in the least pitiable,” he assured Monique. “I have my home, my career and surgery, and my patients to attend to.”

  “But no family or friends with whom you might have spent Christmas,” she stated the obvious.

  “My lack of family, I can do nothing about. As to friends… I have several of those, but all are now married with families and responsibilities of their own. For the main part, those friendships were formed during my years in the army. When, I might add, I treated as many of the French wounded as I did the English.”

  Monique chuckled ruefully. “There is no need to sound quite so defensive. It is laudable that, as a doctor, you treat every person alike, but as I told you, I am English in everything but name.”

  “How old are you?”

  “It is impolite to ask a woman her age, you know,” she teased.

  He gave a dismissive snort. “I believe we both know I am an impolite man.”

  “True,” she conceded dryly. “But the duchess assures me that gentlemen who are arrogant tend to engender their own unique attraction, and therefore become a challenge to a discerning lady.”

  Martin’s brows rose. “I would be interested to learn under what circumstances she made such a claim.”

  “I could not possibly be so disloyal to the duchess as to reveal that,” she teased. “Although I do believe her own remarks on the matter were made in reference to the duke.”

  “And your own?”

  Monique took a sip of her wine rather than answering.

  “Do you consider yourself to be a discerning lady?” Martin pressed.

  Humor once again danced in those clear blue eyes. “Possibly.”

  The two of them were flirting with each other again, Martin realized. Nor could he bring himself to care that they were. Monique not only aroused him, she intrigued him. To a degree he badly needed to kiss her again. To take her. To possess her, to make her his own, in a way he had never wished to possess anyone before.

  Monique’s eyes widened as Martin rose noisily to his feet before rounding the table to take her hands in both of his and pull her up beside him. “Martin—”

  “That is the first time you have called me by my given name,” he noted gruffly, the glitter deepening in his eyes. “I have no idea what is happening to me. This is not my usual behavior at all but you… I only have to see you to want you.”

  Monique’s cheeks warmed at Martin’s impassioned admission. At the same time, she became aware of his thighs pressing against her own. Of the long and thick length of his arousal. “Would it help if I said I no longer wish you to think of me as being your patient? There is no need and…I no longer wish to be your patient,” she repeated firmly.

  His jaw tightened. “Are you prepared to take the consequences of removing such a barrier between us?”

  Was she prepared for that? For more of what the two of them had shared this morning?

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I am.”

  Martin’s arms moved firmly about her waist. “I am not an impulsive man, far from it, but every time I see you, think about you, I want to do this.”

  This turned out to be claiming her lips in a long and searing kiss.

  A kiss Monique knew she had longed for as much as Martin now admitted he wanted too. She had been aching for him to kiss her again ever since their intimacy this morning. She wanted him.

  She did not fool herself into thinking Martin wanted any more than this from her. Knew there was no future for the two of them. Fate had never been that kind to her.

  But she did want Martin. More than she had ever desired or wanted any other man. As he admitted to wanting her in the same way.

  Surely they could have here and now?

  Tomorrow would, as it always did, come all too soon, and with it the cold reality of her life.

  “I want you so much,” Martin murmured longingly, lips warm as they traveled the length of her arched throat. “You are driving me insane with that need, Monique,” he admitted shakily.

  Could she accept the little he offered her? A night, possibly two if the snow persisted, of being held in Martin’s arms and finally knowing what it was to be desired, if not loved?

  More important, would she ever have an opportunity such as this again, and from a man she was as attracted to as she was Martin Easton?

  Her body was on fire with that need, desire, as the heat of Martin’s lips and the rasp of his tongue continued to search out the hollows at the base of her throat before moving lower still. Monique gasped, fingers threading through the darkness of Martin’s hair as he pulled down the bodice of her gown and suckled one of her erect nipples into the heat of his mouth.

  Pleasure coursed through her, centering between her thighs, her labia swollen and moist. The nubbin above became engorged, throbbing with the need to be touched, stroked, until she attained the same release as she had this morning. And this time, she intended for Martin to know that same pleasure.

  Martin wrenched his mouth from her breast before straightening to gaze at her with glittering eyes. “Much as I want to strip you naked right here and now, strip us both naked, and then fuck you for hours on end, I am aware the footman will be returning in a few minutes to remove our plates.”

  At least one of them had the wits left to remember that!

  Monique kept her gaze on the closed door as she hastily straightened her gown. “I completely forgot where we were.”

  Martin pushed his tousled hair back from his brow. “As did I. May I… Might I come to your bedchamber later tonight?”

  Monique gave a quick shake of her head as she heard a noise outside in the hallway. “As I know the house better than you do, I will come to you. I do not think any of the married couples would welcome you stumbling into their bedchamber by mistake,” she added ruefully mere seconds before the door was opened and the footman returned with the cheese and dessert trolley.

  Chapter 11

  “What mischief are you plotting and planning?” Nik eyed his wife’s flushed cheeks and pleased expression as he lay naked on the bed watching his Angel prepare to retire.

  First came the unclasping of her jewelry.

  Then the removal of the pins from her fiery red hair, allowing it to fall loosely about her shoulders.

  He had unfastened her gown for her, and it now fluttered down to her ankles before she stepped out of it.

  Followed by the removal of her silk undergarments, the ones that he loved to see her wear, usually for the pleasure of ripping them off her.

  Until Angel now sat proud and naked in front of the mirror on the dressing table.

  It was a nightly ritual Nik knew he would never tire of.

  Like the unwrapping of a Christmas gift every night of the year.

  Angel’s expression had become one of innocence as she answered him. “Whatever do you mean, plotting and planning?”

  Nik chuckled at that feigned indignation. “Never make the mistake of thinking I do not know you, my love. Tonight, you were matchmaking between the doctor and Monique.”

  She frowned. “If you already know that, then why did you ask?”

  He shrugged. “I am questioning as to whether or not it is altogether wise to do so, considering we still have no idea whether or not Monique is innocent in your mother’s treasonous behavior.”

  Angel glanced at him in the mirror as she brushed her burnished hair. “Surely she must be.”

  “But we do not know that,” he cautioned. “I have also told you of my…distrust of the doctor.”

  “I thought that was because you felt jealous of him?”

  Nik’s eyes narrowed. “What reason could I possibly have for jealousy?”

  Angel swallowed. “Well…none.”

  “We will discuss the subject again in a moment,” he assured mildly. “But the good doctor is also hiding something,” he added with certainty.

  Angel’s eyes widened. “He is?”

  Nik nodded. “Definitely.”

  “Such as?”

  “I have no idea yet, but I intend to find out. In the meantime…” His brows rose as his wife climbed naked into bed beside him. “Did I say you were to get into bed?” His voice had deepened to the one of command he knew made Angel’s cunny wet and aching.

  Angelique felt a flush warm her cheeks and a delicious shiver of anticipation traveled the length of her spine. “I had presumed you would be too tired for lovemaking after our busy day…”

  Nik rose to his feet. “You should know by now that presumption can be a dangerous thing, my love. Most especially in regard to me.” His eyes glittered a pale and compelling blue. “Stand up and get on your knees at the foot of the bed.”

  Angelique’s heart fluttered wildly as she quickly did as Nik instructed, resting her breasts on the bed as she leaned forward, her arms stretched in front of her. Her cunny was already hot and swollen, the juices slick on her pussy lips in readiness of what was to come.

  “Legs farther apart.” Nik spoke softly but with no less command as he moved to stand behind her. “Already so wet for me,” he murmured with satisfaction as one of his hands cupped her mound between those parted legs. “Inside as well as out.” He plunged two fingers deep inside her.

  Angelique gasped, but maintained her position.

  “So you believe me to be jealous of Easton?” Nik pumped those two fingers in and out of her. “Answer me!” He curled his fingers to stroke the spongy bundle of nerves inside her.

  Angelique came instantly, crying out as the pleasure rolled through and over her. “Obviously, I was mistaken,” she finally managed to gasp.

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