Sans Regret Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Sans Regret

  ISBN 9781419914508

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Sans Regret Copyright © 2008 Alice Gaines

  Edited by Shannon Combs.

  Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.

  Electronic book Publication February 2008

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/)

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Sans Regret

  Alice Gaines

  Dedication

  For all the good people at SFA-RWA who taught me so much about writing.

  Chapter One

  London, 1893

  In the Marquis of Wortham’s experience, a smart woman generally kept her lustful nature well hidden—unless a public display would serve her in some way. Whatever purpose this woman had, her costume and body had half the men at the ball inflamed. Most likely more than half the men but the married gentlemen dared not show any interest while under the scrutiny of their wives.

  Wortham watched the spectacle from where he lounged against a column in Lord Blakely’s cavernous ballroom. In truth the lady—if she was one—had aroused more than his own curiosity with her suggestive attire. He’d been watching her ever since her throaty laughter had floated to him over the usual din of London’s finest pretending to enjoy themselves. He’d observed her closely but hadn’t yet determined her identity. Odd because he knew virtually everyone in this crowd.

  Perhaps he’d know her too by the end of the evening. Know her intimately.

  The Druid costume she wore consisted of wisps of pale material that exposed most of her bosom before flowing gently over plush curves to feet clad only in sandals. Not even the most outrageous sensualist of the upper class took the excuse of a masked ball to wear something so revealing in public. Who was she? Most of her face lay hidden behind sequins and feathers and he’d have to unmask her to have any hope of making out her identity. He’d never bedded her for he wouldn’t likely forget that body. With any luck at all, he’d rectify that lapse tonight. First he’d have to liberate her from the throng of eager men around her.

  Settling his features into a bland smile, he pushed away from the column and worked his way through the crowd toward his quarry. She caught his approach from the corner of her eye, glanced down in a perfect sham of modesty and then gazed back at him with frank interest that would undo a lesser man. He smiled back easily, holding her gaze as he approached. Before they’d so much as shared a word, their glances sparred. Delightful.

  She had the most unusual eyes. Even behind the mask, they shone a brown so dark and deep as to be midnight in color. Her hair hung loose in chestnut curls. The wildness of it evoked images of how it would look spread over a pillow or across his thighs as she…

  Patience. He still had to win her favor. He found his way between the last of her suitors and bowed. “May I have the pleasure of this waltz?”

  “You’re a bit too late, Wortham.” That from young Fallon, a fellow with more breeding than brains. “I’ve asked the lady for this dance.”

  “Ah good,” Wortham replied. “If you know her, you can introduce us.”

  “Dash it all, none of us have determined who she is,” another of the swains said.

  “Really?” Wortham lifted a brow and studied her.

  She smiled, making her full lips even more tempting. “What would be the point of a mask if everyone could tell who I am?”

  Her voice had a husky quality to it. Definitely sexual, whether she intended it or not. Rather the way a satisfied woman sounded after a rollicking good tumble.

  He took her hand and pressed a kiss on its back. “James Hardison, Lord Wortham,” he said. “Your servant, madam.”

  “In what capacity may I press you into my service?”

  “In any capacity your heart desires.”

  A small murmur went up among the others. Given her costume and his own reputation as a libertine, the others knew he hadn’t limited his services to her heart but to other, more delicious parts of her body. If she cared to back down from his challenge, she’d do it now.

  “The waltz,” she said as she dropped a small curtsy, just enough to acquiesce to dancing with him but not to actually defer to his station in society. As a Marquis, his station was lofty indeed. Could she be his social equal? If so, how could he possibly not have made her acquaintance before this?

  He extended his arm and she took it and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. She moved easily beside him. Her fluid motions and considerable height suggested legs long enough to wrap around a man’s waist while he frigged her. Slender fingers and graceful arms—shockingly bare in her costume—completed the impression. He wouldn’t have forgotten making this woman’s acquaintance.

  When they arrived at a space on the floor, he bowed to her and took her into his arms. She fit against him perfectly, with the top of her head just below his nose. Her hair gave off a scent of flowers. He took a deep breath of her perfume.

  She chuckled softly. “Do you think we shocked the others?”

  “We’ve done them a favor. Given them something to dither about.”

  “I don’t know how they can talk about me if they don’t know who I am.”

  “They can dither about me then,” he said. “They’ll do it in any case.”

  “They don’t approve of you?”

  “I’m quite content without their approval.”

  She laughed again and stepped an inch or two closer to him.

  “You have the advantage over me,” he said. “You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

  “I like advantages.”

  “The usual response to my statement is to tell me who you are.”

  “But I suspect you wouldn’t find me very interesting if I did the usual thing,” she said.

  She had him there. After years spent exploring the sexual appetites of the women in his set he’d become bored with the run-of-the-mill adventurous wife and lusty widow. Innocents held even less appeal and added the extra hazard of trapping him into marriage. This woman intrigued him as no other had for months, if not years.

  He pulled her closer, which brought her firmly enough against him to be quite indecent. She didn’t retreat but increased the pressure of her hand on his shoulder. Her bosom pressed into his chest and her pelvis brushed his. He’d already grown somewhat aroused. In a moment, she’d have him fully erect. How would she react then?

  “You’ve quite intrigued me, madam,” he said.

  She looked up at him and bit her lip in a most provocative manner.

  His pulse sped up as his cock lengthened in his pants. “Have we met before?”

  “Once, a long time ago,” she answered.

  “I can’t believe I’d have forgotten you.”

  “Memory’s a fickle thing,” she said. “At least in men.”

  “Forgetting a woman as fascinating as you would be its own punishment, don’t you think?”

  She smiled at him. “I’d hope to do better than that.”

  “Better at punishment?”

>   “Better at fascinating.”

  “You’ve managed that nicely.” He pulled her hard against him so she couldn’t miss the state of his sex. “Very nicely.”

  She pulled out of his arms. “Then I’ve accomplished my purpose.”

  “I apologize if I’ve offended you.” Had he misunderstood her interest? Women who looked at him as she had usually wanted more than an innocent flirtation. Hell, no woman had ever looked at him as this one did.

  “You haven’t offended me,” she said. “Your…ah…attentions have quite flattered me, my lord.”

  “Then why did you stop dancing?”

  “I haven’t. I’m only changing the steps. For now.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Good.” With that, she turned and disappeared into the throng of swirling couples, leaving Wortham staring after her.

  What had just happened here? The woman had deliberately led him on. She’d seduced him with her glances and words. She’d excited him in ways no woman had for as long as he could remember, arousing him fully by just dancing with him. She’d felt the dimensions of his erect cock and claimed to be flattered by his interest. Then she’d disappeared. She’d changed the steps, had she? To what? He’d happily follow if he could puzzle out how.

  A passing couple bumped into him, mid-swirl.

  “I say,” the man declared. “Do get out of the way.”

  “I’m sorry,” Wortham answered.

  “Lose your partner?”

  “It appears so.” Partner in the waltz and much more.

  “Either dance or let the rest of us get on with it,” the man said.

  “I’ll dance, all right.” When he did, he’d do something more than waltz. He only needed to find her to do it. He headed off to do exactly that.

  * * * * *

  Wortham found her an hour or more later. From the buffet line to the card room to the dance floor and back, he trailed her as best he could. His own mask obscured his vision, but he managed to catch sight of chestnut curls here, a glimpse of white flowing gown there. Always she eluded him before he could get her firmly in his grasp.

  A merry chase unlike any a woman had ever led him on before. What had started as a flirtation had turned into a more interesting game where victory lay in anticipating the opponent’s next move. After a while he became more systematic in his approach, pushing her more deeply into unoccupied parts of the house by blocking the entryway to her usual haunts. And still, he couldn’t tell if he’d truly isolated her or if she’d slipped past him to start the game afresh.

  One thing was certain. She’d pay when he caught her, much to their mutual enjoyment.

  Finally he cornered her in an empty hallway. She turned when she heard him behind her and smiled.

  “Have you been following me, Lord Wortham?” she asked, as she put her hand to her throat in mock alarm.

  “You’ve been leading me on.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question all evening. What is your game?”

  “It’s a dance, remember?”

  “You haven’t taught me the steps.”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Not here.”

  “Then where? When?”

  She looked up one end of the hallway and down the other. Her breasts rose and fell with either exertion or excitement. Whichever it was, the vision made him ache to stroke the soft flesh until her nipples hardened under the material.

  She darted a few steps, opened a door and stepped inside a room, shutting the door behind her. She may have thought she’d escaped but if memory served him, that particular room was Blakely’s study. Unless she planned to jump out the window to the ground, a healthy distance below, she’d cornered herself completely.

  He opened the door and found her in the act of trying to push one of the wingback chairs under the knob. The chair was far too large for that purpose, of course, so all she could do was let go of it and back away.

  He closed the door and leaned against it. “Now suppose you tell me who you are.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what you intend to do?”

  He shrugged. “I could frig you right here on Blakely’s prized Oriental rug, I suppose. But since we can’t lock the door, someone might interrupt us.”

  “Then you’d better let me go.”

  “I’ll let you go far enough to get into my carriage so that I can take you home and frig you there in privacy.”

  “You do intend to frig me,” she said.

  “You’ve been inviting it all evening.”

  “I’ve done no such thing.” But the gleam in her eyes caught by the light of the fire in the hearth suggested quite the opposite. She knew what effect she had on him. She reveled in it.

  “My dear madam, whoever you are, that gown shows off every delight of your figure, from the plushness of your breasts…” He removed his mask and dropped it to the floor. “Your nipples are hard. Did you know that?”

  She covered her breasts with her hands but the gesture held no innocence. Rather she seemed to squeeze them gently, making them swell above the already low neckline of her dress.

  “Doing that only emphasizes the fullness of your bosom,” he said.

  “You like my bosom, then?”

  “Like is far too tame a word. I delight in every part of you.”

  She smiled. “Tell me more.”

  “Your neck looks like a long stretch of heaven. I could spend hours devouring it. You’re belly’s nicely rounded. I’d explore that too.”

  “What else?”

  “When a man sees thighs like yours, he wants nothing more than to wear them around his ears.”

  She smiled and the light of challenge entered her eyes. “You can see my thighs?”

  “I can see the outline under that material. If I put my mind to it, I can imagine the shape of your cunt.”

  She put her hand over her mouth and giggled. “You’re quite depraved, aren’t you?”

  He took a step toward her. “Allow me to show you how depraved.”

  “With my thighs around your ears?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Interesting.” She bit her lip again for a moment. “But I think not.”

  Enough play. If she truly didn’t want him, she would have pretended shock, slapped his face and left. She hadn’t even made an attempt at the door but stood there driving him wild with her looks. His cock hadn’t fully softened since he’d first seen her in the ballroom. Now it stood at full attention and throbbed, begging for relief.

  “Let me convince you I’m worth a tumble.” Slowly, he moved closer.

  She looked at him warily but didn’t back up. “How?”

  “A kiss. Just one innocent kiss.” He’d start that way but if he read her right, nothing she’d do in return would be innocent. He approached her, his arms by his sides. She let him get just near enough to touch her and then jumped away at the last minute.

  “You’ll have to be faster than that,” she said in the throaty voice that went right to his gut.

  “I can be as fast as you want,” he said. “Or as slow.”

  She giggled again and slipped away but toward a corner of the room. Either a tactical mistake, that, or she was helping him to trap her. In fact she may have deliberately led him to the hallway and this room while pretending to escape him. Clever thing. Far too clever.

  He spread his arms wide and approached her again, pressing her back into the corner. She feinted right but he countered. Truly agile, she’d be devilishly tricky to catch if she wanted to get away. This was all show, though, and she finally allowed him to back her completely into the corner.

  Once he had her there, he reached for her mask but she put up a hand to block him. Very well, they’d do this with her identity hidden. He rested his hands on the walls on either side of her head and leaned toward her. Heat flared in her eyes briefly before she leaned back and closed them.

  Her
lips parted on a sigh and he could have taken them. Instead he studied her face, reveling in the anticipation. The mask hid most of her features but he could still drink in the floral scent of her hair and wonder at the softness of the skin along her jaw and throat. Her lips promised sweetness—the bottom one rather fuller than the top, but both a deep corral in the firelight. He nuzzled her ear with his nose and she let out a tiny gasp.

  “I thought you meant to kiss me, my lord,” she said without opening her eyes.

  “I do.” He kissed the tip of her nose, just exposed by her mask. “I will.”

  “I’m sure I shall swoon.”

  “Let’s see, shall we?” He touched his lips to hers lightly. Enough for a taste, no more. “Swooning yet?”

  “I can’t say for sure. Try again.”

  He kissed her a second time, this time pressing his mouth to hers and sampling the honey there. His heart raced but he held himself back. After a moment of near bliss he pulled away. “Feeling more swoonish now?”

  “Oh yes, my lord,” she whispered. “If I were to collapse, would you catch me?”

  “Any gentleman would.”

  “Then please, do kiss me again.”

  “I can forbid you nothing.” He took her lips, this time with all the hunger in him. He plundered her mouth with his own, taking each lip separately into his mouth to suck and then following with his tongue.

  She leaned her body into his and he finally took her in his arms, pulling her against him. Softness everywhere as her breasts pressed against his chest and her belly met his aching rod, even through layer upon layer of clothing. The silk of her costume slid under his palms as he massaged the length of her. Past her shoulders, over her back and down to sweetly rounded buttocks. He cupped them, squeezing gently. In his mind’s eye, he could see them, pale against the crimson of his engorged cock. The vision made him mad with lust. In all his life, not even with his first willing female, had a woman heated his blood to such a boil.

  She opened her mouth and met his tongue with her own. More. He needed more. After curling his fingers into her hair, he pulled her head back and moved to her throat. She swayed in his arms as his lips moved over her impossibly soft skin, sucking and nipping. Still it wasn’t enough. He needed every inch of her and part of her soul too. He needed to feel her shatter in climax and then join her.