Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,32

and stop this scandalous wedding. On the altar, the candle flames danced in the silence. A gust of wind rattled the windows. Fergus noisily shuffled his feet, and for one uneasy moment, Drake feared the old man meant to voice an objection.

He clenched his teeth to keep from snapping at Jeffries, For Christ’s sake, get on with it!

At last the clergyman began to read again, droning on for several more interminable minutes before indicating they should join their right hands. Drake spoke his vows quickly and felt no tremor in her slim fingers, no hint of agitation as Alicia murmured her vows. Even then, she did not lift her eyes to his, and her voice was smooth, her movements mechanical. She might have been a marionette worked by invisible strings.

It was done. He’d sealed his fate. And hers.

At his prior request, there was no blessing of the rings, for Drake saw no need to bother with such romantic indulgences. While the cleric spoke the final prayers, Alicia’s ladylike reserve continued to rub on Drake. It was as if he didn’t truly own her—she kept a part of herself inviolate. The primitive desire to put his brand on her swept through him.

She was his wife. His to use as he willed.

He crushed her to him and claimed her mouth. Her soft lips parted in startlement. He seized the advantage, capturing the back of her head in one hand to hold her steady while his tongue plundered her in a deep, demanding kiss. She tasted of innocence, of a sweetness he had never before known. As if from a distance, he heard a gasp from the clergyman, a muttered protest from her brother.

The onlookers made no difference to Drake. Only a lightning bolt from the heavens could have stopped him.

He kissed her long and hard and deep. She clung to his shoulders, and her quickened heartbeats fluttered against his chest. The scent of crushed lilies blended with her light feminine fragrance. With skillful strokes of his tongue, he caressed her sensitive inner flesh until the woodenness left her body and she gave a little sigh and melted in his arms.

The victory left him only marginally satisfied. He wanted more than a kiss. He craved her complete surrender.

And he would have it. By God, he would.

Later.

He forced himself to draw back. Alicia stood looking at him, her breasts rising and falling, her breath coming in little panting gasps. Wisps of fair hair framed the soft beauty of a well-pleasured woman. Her eyes were dazed blue pools of desire—but only for a moment.

Then a mask of cool disdain once again smoothed her noble features.

Fumbling with his prayer book, the clergyman concluded the service. No doubt he was accustomed to witnessing more sedate kisses. The civilized kisses of aristocratic couples.

To hell with the aristocracy.

Drake grasped her slender waist. He and Alicia would have no civilized courtship. Their bedsport would be wild, uninhibited, lusty. He was not at all discouraged by her coldness. Whether she would acknowledge so or not, a strong current of passion flowed beneath her serene surface.

We will have a chaste marriage.…

He smiled. How wrong she was. He would have his pleasure of Alicia. He would charm her into his bed and make his claim on her complete and irrevocable. She was his now.

His wife.

Chapter Eight

Her husband.

Descending from the coach with the aid of Drake’s hand, Alicia struggled to assimilate the reality of their marriage. His firm grip threatened her hard-won control. They had ridden together from the church, just the two of them. Determined to appear calm, she’d filled the silence with polite comments on the weather, her mother, the delay in their arrival, anything but the ceremony and that earthshaking kiss. While she’d chatted away, he’d watched her, his eyes a dark, disconcerting blue in the gloomy daylight.

She hadn’t known a kiss could be so private, so intimate. He had invaded her with his tongue. His tongue. And she had enjoyed it.

The daring embraces she’d experienced during her first Season now seemed tame and lackluster, those gentlemen mere schoolboys. Drake Wilder, however, had seen the depths of depravity. He had done acts so wicked she could not even imagine them. In that kiss, he had shown her a glimpse of his erotic skills, subjecting her to an intimacy that stirred a shockingly carnal desire inside her.

No wonder he’d been amused by her naïve attempt at seduction that day at his club. Unknowingly, she had made a fool of herself. Worse, she