A Taste of Seduction (An Unlikely Husband) (29 page)

“Francie.”

Did he have to speak to her in a voice that made her pulse beat triple time? She hid behind the shield of hair that fell over her face. “What?” she said in a tiny voice.

“Never,” he said.

“Never what?” Maybe she could feign a stomachache or some other malady to divert his attention from her ridiculous question.

“I’ve never felt this way before.”

His words hit her like a rush of wind. She peeked through a veil of red. “Never?”

He shook his head. “And right now,” he said in a stern voice, “I’m wondering if it’s a blessing or curse.”

A smile inched across her face.
He said he’s never felt this way before. Not even with “her.”
Her smile deepened. “It’s a blessing, of course,” she said, pushing her hair from her face. “After all, I am the one you’re marrying, so it’s important we suit.”

Alexander coughed and sputtered, almost choking on his tea. “That, I assure you, Francie, is not how men and women determine if they suit.”

She blushed and looked away, remembering the heat and passion they’d shared last night.

“But don’t be ashamed of what happened between us,” he said. “Ever.”

She shrugged. “It’s just when I think of last night...of what we did...” She paused, trying to find the right words. “It wasn’t very ladylike.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he agreed.

She stiffened. “So I’ve decided I’ll work on my behavior when we’re...together.”

“And exactly how do you intend to do that?”

She thought she heard humor in his voice. If he were laughing at her, she’d never speak to him again. “I intend to behave in a more...ladylike fashion.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’ll not thrash about like I did or call your name out.”

“You screamed my name, Francie.”

“I know,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’ll not do that again. Or make those funny little sounds. I think I’ll be silent.”

“Let me understand what you’ve just said. You’re going to stop ‘thrashing’ about and eliminate all screaming, moaning, sighing, or other sounds that might be misinterpreted as pleasurable.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“Then I shall soon learn what it’s like to make love to a corpse.”

She swung her gaze around to meet his. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t change a thing. I love it when you scream my name.” He grabbed the edge of the covers and lowered them to her neck. His other hand reached out to stroke her shoulder. “You drive me mad when you moan in my arms and sigh when I give you pleasure.” He inched the covers down to expose the top of her breasts. “And when I hear those choppy little breaths right before you reach your release, it makes me ache with wanting you.”

Francie couldn’t move, couldn’t think about anything but the sound of his voice and the images he painted with his words. Heat pooled low in her belly and she felt a dampness between her legs.

“And when you lift your hips off the bed,” he murmured, brushing his lips with hers, “I can think of nothing but being inside you.” The covers fell in a heap between them. “But, it appears lately, being inside you is all I think about.” His hand cupped her breast. “I want you, Francie.” His tongue stroked the seam of her lips, begging entry. “As much as I did last night.”

She shivered and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down on the bed. “I want you, too,” she whispered.

He groaned and reached for the buttons of his shirt. Aching need gripped her as he tore open his shirt and loosened his trousers. Grabbing her hips, he sank into her with a sigh. “This wanting, when will it be enough?” he growled, moving inside her with deep, heavy thrusts. “I fear it may never be.”

Francie clung to him, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hips moving with his. Exquisite tension built as his body stroked her with pure sensation, lifting her to the height of desire, promising more pleasure with each thrust. Her release came, sudden and quick, with a force that shocked her. She screamed his name and he exploded inside her.

It was then she knew the answer to Alexander’s tormented question, knew it with a clarity from the depth of her soul. The wanting would never stop.

***

“I wish we could stay here a few more days,” Francie said as she dried a dish and put it in the cupboard.

“That’s impossible.” Alexander leaned against the doorframe to the small kitchen. “I only have the clothes on my back and I’m itching to get out of them.”

She shot him a quick glance, her cheeks blushing a most becoming pink.

“And into some fresh ones,” he amended, though he found the thought of taking her back to bed quite appealing. They’d spent the better part of the morning there, arising only long enough to eat a bit of crackers with jam. His groin tightened as he recalled the intimacies they’d shared over the past several hours. If he didn’t concentrate on something else, she’d find herself stretched out on the kitchen table with him on top of her.

This insatiable desire for his soon-to-be wife bothered him. It wasn’t just the physical need
; it was the way he found himself thinking about her at odd moments or anticipating her entry into a room. When she spoke, her soft voice rolled over him like a calming symphony. If she had this kind of control over him now, what would happen once they were married, when their time and intimacy increased tenfold? He jammed his hands in his pockets. It would only get worse. He might actually be in danger of falling in love with her.

That couldn’t happen. Alexander had only loved one woman in his life. His mother. But she hadn’t even cared enough about him to live. He’d vowed long ago never to let a woman hurt him like that again. And he hadn’t. But now Francie threatened to breach the carefully constructed wall separating indifference from caring, fondness from love. He had to stop her, and yet, a small part, deep inside his soul, didn’t want to.

A banging at the door disrupted his thoughts and he was grateful for the intrusion. Thinking about Francie and his current predicament gave him a pounding headache.

“I’ll get it.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the incessant banging. There had never been such blatant disruption at Drakemoor. But this was the country and Francie was the most unconventional woman he’d ever met. Perhaps this was a common and acceptable greeting. He opened the door just as a young woman prepared to deliver another round of noise with her fisted hand.

She gasped when she saw him, her large brown eyes wide and guarded. She was a slip of a girl, much shorter than Francie, with a protruding belly. One of Crayton’s conquests, he guessed. “Begging your pardon, sir,” she said, inching her way back, “I...I was looking for Francie.”

“Your name?” he asked. She looked like a scared rabbit about to bolt. Why was she afraid of him? He’d done no more than look at her.

“Sally,” she murmured. “Sally Baines. I...I live down the street.”

Alexander nodded. “Well, come in
, Sally Baines, and I’ll fetch Francie.” He waved his hand toward the sitting room, but the young girl shook her pale blonde head and remained outside.

“No, thank you, sir,” she said. “I’ll wait here.”

“As you wish.” He turned and went in search of Francie, his thoughts on the scared young woman outside. “Francie,” he called, poking his head in the kitchen. “You have a visitor.”

She was putting some green leaves into a small container. She looked up and smiled at him, sending a twinge to his groin. “Who?”

“She said her name is Sally Baines.”

“Sally?” She set the leaves aside and wiped her hands on a towel. “Why didn’t you invite her in?”

“I did,” he said, his voice low. “She’s worse than a scared rabbit. And swollen with child.”

Francie’s eyes filled with tears. “Poor Sally.”

“Crayton, I presume?”

She nodded. “Sally was one of the first. Her parents blamed her. Called her all sorts of horrible names and almost threw her out of the house.”

“I see.” One’s biological parents did not always guarantee safety or love.

“It’s worse,” she whispered. “They tried to force her to marry a man three times her age to save disgrace and when she refused, they threatened to disown her.”

Alexander shook his head. “From the look on her face and the way she’s acting, something’s happened and I’d venture to guess it wasn’t pleasant.”

“Poor Sally,” Francie murmured. “I’ll be back.” She reached up on tiptoe and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Then she was moving past him, a determined warrior on a mission, her red-gold hair flowing behind her. Alexander’s chest tightened as he watched his betrothed, dressed as a commoner, in simple blue muslin and old slippers with her hair unbound and free. And yet, he thought her more beautiful than the grandest of ladies clothed in silk and jewels. It was then he understood the beauty of Francie was not in her face or her hair or even her well-curved body. Francie’s beauty came from her soul.

He watched as she drew Sally into her arms, patted her back when the girl’s shoulders shook and tears flowed from her pale face. All the while, Francie’s lips moved, no doubt whispering soothing words. Alexander stood, mesmerized, as his future wife helped Sally Baines transform from a scared waif to a smiling young woman.

His breath stuck in his throat as she rested her hands on Sally’s belly and he pictured Francie swollen with child.
His child
. He blinked and turned away. What was he thinking? He had no idea how to be a father. How could he even think about bringing a child into this world with a past like his? Francie’s innocent naïveté was getting to him, making him want to believe in ridiculous impossibilities.

“Her family’s disowned her.”

Alexander looked at Francie, her blue eyes filled with concern for her friend, her full lips parted and waiting. He wished he believed in hopes and dreams and happily ever after. Just this once.

Francie was a gift, a summer’s breeze blowing over him, touching him with her gentle caress. But summer didn’t last forever and breezes gave way to harsh winds and bitter storms that smashed unsuspecting victims in their path. He would not be a victim, no matter how much she entranced him.

“Alexander?” her soft voice reached him. “She has nowhere to go.”

He pushed aside his thoughts and said, “What do you want to do?” He knew she had a plan. She always did.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’d like her to stay here.”

He lifted a brow. “Alone?”

“I could stay—”

“No.” He didn’t give her a chance to finish the thought. “You are not staying here,” he said. “It’s not safe.” He shook his head. “Besides, you’re to be my wife. I want you back at Drakemoor.”

“Sally has no place to go. I’ve got to help her.” He glanced at the very pregnant girl standing just outside the doorway. Damn Jared Crayton and his noble blood. If he got his hands on him again, he’d make certain Crayton never fathered another child.

Alexander turned to Francie and said in a terse voice, “She can stay.” It annoyed him how easily she could get him to do her bidding, as though his sole existence centered on pleasing her. He cleared his throat and continued, “I’ll send someone to stay with her. She’ll need help when her time comes.”

“Thank you, Alexander.”

His chest tightened further at her simple words. He looked away and busied himself with several large wrinkles in his trousers. “Make a list of food items and whatever other provisions she may require.” His gaze darted to Sally once more. “And see that the child has plenty of blankets.” He’d spent the first half of his life shivering under one threadbare blanket and too few clothes.

No child should have to live like that. Not even Jared Crayton’s bastard.

***

“How can it be true?”
Claire Ashcroft pulled the sheet around her breasts and stared at her lover. “How can it possibly be true?”

Jared Crayton folded his hands behind his head and cursed. “That bastard doesn’t deserve to touch the hem of her gown.”

“Rest assured, he’s done more than touch that little whore’s clothing.” The very thought of Alexander’s beautiful body entwined with Francie Jordan’s enraged Claire. She wanted to destroy something—a vase, a glass, Francie’s face.

“She told me she wasn’t interested in the opposite sex. If she’s no longer a virgin, Bishop forced her and he’ll pay dearly for that.”

Claire laughed. “That was her way of telling you she wasn’t interested in
you
.” She reached under the covers and slowly ran her hand down Jared’s chest until she grasped his hardening shaft. “Trust me, she’s no longer a virgin. But Alexander would never force her. He’s too much the gentleman.” Had she thought him capable of ruining a young woman, she would have orchestrated her own ruination ages ago. She’d been so patient, so calculating, so
good
, and that little bitch had merely opened her legs and stolen him from her. Well, she would steal him back. “I’ll wager she threw herself at him just like her whore mother threw herself at Montrose.”

Jared grabbed a hunk of her hair and pulled her close. “She wouldn’t do that.”