Pursued By The Viscount by Carole Mortimer Page A

had shaken her badly.
    But she had come home with him anyway. Because that was who and what she now was: a woman who refused to be cowed again. By anyone.
    Lucien’s admiration for her grew.
    “I believe we are both in need of a brandy.” He moved to pour a generous amount into two of the crystal cut glasses before sitting beside her on the chaise. His thighs did not quite touch hers as he turned toward her to give her the glass.
    “Thank you.” She took the glass as if it were a lifeline, cradling it in her hands.
    Lucien noted with satisfaction that she had not tried to avoid his touch this time as she had on the last occasion. “It cannot warm you if you do not drink it,” he encouraged.
    Rachel raised the glass to her lips and took a large swallow, only to then splutter and choke as the strong alcohol hit the back of her throat, taking her breath away. Lucien patted her on the back, her eyes watering by the time the coughing stopped.
    She offered no word of protest when Lucien removed the glass and placed it on the side table beside his own. Dutch courage was all well and good, but not if it resulted in adding to that impression of a lack of sophistication on her part. Even if that was the case.
    “Now where were we?” Lucien moved closer, his muscled thigh pressing against her own.
    Rachel sat rigid and unmoving as he raised his hand, fingers lifting the curls at her temple, before there was the feel of exploratory lips and the warmth of Lucien’s breath against her skin.  
    She closed her eyes, hands clenched tightly together in her lap as those firm lips left a trail of fire across her cheek, her earlobe, and down her throat.
    Some of that tension melted away, and pleasure once again took its place as Lucien’s lips and teeth kissed and nibbled their way along her bared shoulder.
    “This needs to come down.” Lucien removed the two diamond pins from her hair, allowing her golden tresses to cascade onto her shoulders and back. “You have the most glorious hair.” He gathered those curls up in his hands before burying his face in that silkiness to breathe in deeply. Rachel’s hair smelled of an intoxicating mix of lemon and flowers. “Your skin is like satin.” He touched the temptation of the bareness of her flesh revealed by the dip of the neckline at the back of her gown. “Lie down for me,” he encouraged. “On your front.” He turned her so that her back was toward him as she leaned up on her elbows.
    Rachel began to tremble as Lucien brushed her hair to one side, before she felt the soft caress of his lips and tongue against her nape. “That feels… I had no idea.” She groaned, spine arching in pleasure, her nipples feeling hard as pebbles as they pressed against the bodice of her gown. That pleasure increased as Lucien’s lips moved lower still, tracing the curve of her back, and causing her to moan softly.
    He must have unfastened the four tiny pearl buttons securing the gown, as he pushed the material aside and his lips moved lower still.
    Rachel gasped as those lips plundered the indentations at the base of her spine, dangerously close to the cheeks of her bottom. Her protest died on her lips, her breath caught in her throat when Lucien’s hands moved forward beneath her gown to cup beneath her breasts.
    She raised herself higher on her elbows to allow him easier access. Hot pleasure coursed through her. That feeling intensified, gathering and dampening between her thighs, when his fingers lightly stroked across the turgid nipples and the heat of his lips continued to explore the length of her spine.
    It felt…wonderful. Thrilling. Exciting. Pleasure such as she had never known or imagined.
    The heat deepened when Lucien captured and rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. “Oh God, yes…” Her cry was completely involuntary as she pushed her breasts against those arousing digits. “Oh please, Lucien!” she groaned.
    Lucien had not expected Rachel to be as responsive