The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie

Beth ached where they joined. The friction burned on her petals too long untouched, fire that made her want to open her legs wide. She did, sliding her feet on the covers, letting her hips arch upward.

“Do you feel it?” Ian asked.

A dozen phrases went through Beth’s head, but she gasped out, “Yes.”

“Your cunny is tight, my Beth. Squeezing me so hard.”

He smiled when he said it, feral and raw.

No man had ever done bawdy talk with her. Game girls had told her of it, but she’d never dreamed she’d hear it hot in her ear, spoken by a beautiful man.

“Squeeze me some more, love,” he murmured. “You feel so damn good.”

“Good,” Beth echoed. She tightened her muscles, and he groaned.

He felt good. All thick and hard and moving inside her. She tried to tell him, to give him bawdy talk in return, but she couldn’t form words.

“I wanted you in Covent Garden,” he said. “I wanted you straddling me in the dark while I came up inside you.” “In the theatre?”

“Right there in the damn box, with the opera blaring on. I’d take you, make you my own.” He put his hand on her neck over the spot where he’d given her the love bite. “I branded you.”

Beth smiled. “You, too.” She touched his neck. “I branded you.”

He laced his fingers hard through hers and pressed her hand to the bed. “Belong to me.”

“No one here to dispute that at the moment.” “Always mine. Always, Beth.” Thrusts punctuated the words.

Always. Her body jerked in rhythm with his, the bed creaking. It was a solid bed, thick mahogany, made to take men like Ian loving thejr women.

She was his lover. Beth laughed for the delight of it. Being with Ian was decidedly unrespectable, and she felt freer than she’d ever felt in her life. Under him, she could spread her wings.

Beth laughed again. She was spreading herself as far as she could. Ian’s eyes were closed, his face twisted in pleasure. His thrusts accelerated, his hips pounding as if it were the last coupling he’d ever have.

He drove her into the mattress, his body heavy on hers, his sweat dripping onto her skin. Rain streamed against the windows, and a boom of thunder swallowed Beth’s sudden cry of ecstasy.

Ian shouted, not waiting for thunder. Lightning flared, bathing the room in white. The light outlined lan’s body, his sharp-lined face, burning his hair red. In that moment, Ian opened his eyes, like twin suns coming into view, and let his gaze directly meet Beth’s.

Chapter Twelve

Beth stopped breathing. For the first time since she’d met him, Ian’s gaze fully connected with hers. His eyes were golden, as she’d known, but she’d not known that his black pupils were ringed with green. His body slowed as he studied her, as though looking at her arrested all his attention. He didn’t blink, didn’t move, just let his gaze rest on hers.

She touched his face in wonder. “Ian.”

Ian started and turned his head, and when he looked back, his eyes drifted sideways, not meeting hers. Beth’s heart wrenched. “No, please don’t look away.”

Ian closed his eyes and bent to kiss her.

“Why won’t you look at me?” she asked. “What’s wrong with me?”

He opened his eyes again, but his gaze didn’t meet hers.

“Nothing. You are perfect.”

“Then why?”

“I can’t explain. Don’t ask me to explain.” “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She stroked his hair as tears leaked from her eyes.

“Don’t cry.” He kissed her wet cheek. “This is the time for joy.”

“I know.”

He was still inside her, thick and hard, spreading her marvelously.

Don’t hunger for what you can’t have, she admonished herself. Take pleasure in what you can. Such thoughts had got her through the worst days.

She wanted all of Ian, body and soul, when she knew she couldn’t have that. He was giving her what he could: bodily pleasure and momentary joy. She’d asked him to have a purely carnal affair with her. If she hurt because she couldn’t have more, it was her own fault.

“Ian, you are so bad for me,” she said.

He gave her a half smile. “I’m the Mad Mackenzie.” Beth pressed his face between her hands, anger suddenly rising. “That is other people’s explanation, because they don’t understand you.”

He looked away. “You always try to be kind to me.”

“It isn’t kind. It’s the truth.”

“Shh.” Ian kissed her. “Too many words.” Beth agreed. Ian kissed her again, occupying her mouth with something much more satisfying.

He began to move inside her again. Ian’s body was hot and tense, the noises he made exciting her beyond what she thought she could feel.

This is bliss, her mind whispered as he took her to cresting waves of pleasure. She came beneath his body, twisting and arching against his hips. She moved and moaned until the black waves subsided, and Ian crashed down against her, their bodies melding into one line of heat.

Thunder cracked right overhead, and Beth jumped awake. Ian lay beside her, propped on one elbow, watching her sleep.

“Hello,” she murmured.

Ian gave her a slow smile. She couldn’t tell if he’d slept or not, but he didn’t look tired at all.

“I thought the storm would be over by now,” she said.