Gift of Desire (12 page)

“Mmm.” She kissed him and he kissed her back, his hands fisting in the bedclothes in an effort not to take control of the kiss, of her body, of
her…

Her mouth moved off his and went lower, kissing along his jaw and down his throat to his chest, her hands shaping and learning every inch of his oh-so-willing skin. She hummed her approval as she went and he arched helplessly against her.

He groaned out loud when she nipped and licked at his hipbones and then blew on the hot pulse of his cock. “Please…”

She licked at his pre-cum and then sucked the first inch of his cock into her mouth and played with it, her tongue flicking in and out of his slit until he was thrusting his hips forward in an urgent demand for her to take more. She cupped his balls, drawing them up tight against his shaft and took him deep until he could do nothing but exist in the sensation of her tight mouth working his heated flesh.

He had to touch her.

His fingers skimmed over her thigh and settled over her rounded bottom. He wanted to delve under her nightgown and stroke her naked skin. Contenting himself with what she’d allowed him, he enjoyed her attentions to his cock. He wanted to come, he wanted to shove himself as deep as he could down her throat and let his seed flood out…

“I need to come,” he managed to gasp. “Do you want that?”

“Oh, yes.”

She shifted her grasp on his balls, sliding one wet finger downward past his taint to rim his arsehole and…God,
penetrated
him as his seed rose through his shaft and he climaxed with an almighty groan in thick endless waves down her throat.

When he finished shuddering, she was looking down at him. “Did you like that? George always said it was the best way to come.”

“George…” He swallowed hard. “Must have learned that at Eton.”

“Among other things.” She hesitated. “He liked it if I spanked him with his hairbrush, too.”

He drew her down over him and she allowed him to settle her against his shoulder. “Didn’t you mind?”

“Doing those things? Why should I? George always said that what we did in our marriage bed was entirely up to us and no one else’s concern.”

“Good for George.”

She touched his cheek. “Have I shocked you?”

“On the contrary, you’ve made me a very happy man. You would make me even happier if you allowed me to reciprocate.”

She stiffened and tried to pull away. “You promised—”

“Actually, I didn’t, but I’m not asking you to remove your clothing. I can satisfy you quite easily if you’ll just let me.” Even as he was speaking, he gently rolled them over until he was on top and between her knees. He slid his hands up her inner thighs until his thumbs met over the swell of her mound and parted her there, seeking out the throbbing bud of her clit. Holding her still and exposed to his mouth, he sucked her clit, lavishing it with kisses and licks until she rose against him, grinding herself against his working mouth.

He slid two fingers inside her and she bucked against the intrusion until she yielded in the short throbbing waves of her climax, which went on and on as he extracted every ounce of pleasure from her. She was wet for him now and he felt his cock rising again in response. She’d take him now. It would be tight, but she was ready for it…

* * *

Caroline’s heart beat so fast she thought she might die. If Jasper could do that with just his mouth and fingers, how would he feel if he was inside her? Did she want to find out?

“Caro, let me have you, let me—” His fingers moved under her nightgown over her right hip to lever her upward and she flinched away from him.

He went still, his hand clamped over her scarred skin. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

She couldn’t let him see her. It wouldn’t be fair. He deserved someone who was whole and lovely and not a damaged shell. Pushing at his chest, she managed to roll out from under him.

“Caro, where the devil are you doing?”

She scrambled away, setting her clothing to rights and re-tying the sash of her night robe with fingers that trembled.

“I need to go.”

“
Now
?”

“Yes, before things get too complicated.”

He shoved a hand through his disordered hair. “Dammit, Caroline, there is nothing complicated here at all! We’re going to make love!”

“No, we are not.”

She edged toward the curtains and managed to fight her way through them and into his bedroom proper. Moonlight streamed through the window, bathing everything in its silver glow. He followed her out of the bed without bothering to find his robe.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

He was no longer on the verge of shouting but that made it even worse because all she could hear was his compassion.

“Then what is it?” He gestured back at the bed. “I thought we were enjoying ourselves.”

“We were.” She forced a smile. “And it was lovely, thank you.”

He went still. “That is all you want from me?”

Her chin went up. “It was far more than I’ve given any other man.”

“I wasn’t implying—”

“This is my sister’s house, my
home
. I can hardly start an affair with you in the middle of a house party she arranged specifically to marry off my niece.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be inconsiderate of both of us.” She took a steadying breath. “It was very kind of you, though.”

He scowled. “I didn’t do it out of kindness, Caroline.”

“Yes, you did. You are one of my oldest friends.”

“This has nothing to do with us being
friends
, either.”

“You don’t have to pretend, Jasper. You decided that I needed to regain my confidence with a man that I trust and I allowed you to do so. You were right when you said that young widows miss the joys of the marriage bed. I certainly miss George. You provided me with just the right amount of pleasure without involving me in a torrid affair or a nasty scandal. I really do appreciate that.”

He stalked over to her and looked down, his breathing ragged. “So I was just a passing amusement for a lonely widow?”

“Yes.”

“Or, worse, I simply felt sorry for you.”

“
Yes
.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that you are too much of a coward to reveal yourself to me, to show me your scars and believe that I can accept you just as you are? God dammit, Caroline, I think I’m insulted.”

Her hand shot out before she realized it and slapped him hard on the cheek. “I am
not
a coward.”

“You damn well are.” He stepped back and bowed to her before finding his banyan and putting it on. “Good night, Mrs. Lyndhurst.” Moving over to the door, he opened it and waited unmoving for her to leave.

She gathered her composure around her like armor and stalked out into the corridor without another word. There, it was done; she’d given him the opportunity to walk away from her without a qualm. A tear dripped down her cheek and she wiped it away and then the next one, and the next. She wasn’t a coward for putting his needs ahead of her own. Didn’t he understand that it was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do in her life?

It was Christmas Eve, and Jasper had never felt less like joining in the games and merrymaking in his life. His bad humor was made worse because Caroline appeared to be enjoying herself in her own quiet way. Not that she was coming close enough to actually condescend to
speak
with him. She’d made it quite clear that she regarded his attention as an act of charity to a friend in need.

Dinner had been a noisy affair and now the members of the house party were gathered in the great hall deciding how best to spend their time before the braver souls went to the carol service. Much mulled wine had been drunk and the younger elements of the party were becoming a little too wild for his taste. He had a sense that there would be tears from at least one of the young ladies before bedtime.

He added another pine bough to the roaring fire. He should’ve been more direct with Caroline but he’d feared a frontal assault would scare her off completely. He’d never been known for his subtlety. Dammit, he didn’t feel sorry for her! Why couldn’t she see that? He observed her narrowly from his position by the fire. Or maybe she’d scared herself for wanting something that she’d decided would never be offered to her again.

Love.

Could it really be that simple and yet so damned complicated? He stared at her and, eventually, as though she felt the heat of his gaze, she looked steadily back at him. He’d always loved her. Didn’t she know that?

“Lord Mansell?”

A figure came between him and his view of Caroline and he rose from his seat. “Miss Pattison.”

“Are you going to the church service?”

“It’s possible.”

“Oh good, perhaps we might walk together?”

“Miss Pattison, you are a lovely young lady. Why are you lavishing all your attention on me? I’m far too old for you.”

For a moment she looked perplexed as if he’d veered too far away from the conventional reply for her to know how to respond. “My mama believes an older husband is an advantage for a young girl.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t. You should be enjoying your first Season with people your own age, not angling for a husband.” She started to speak, but he continued over her. “If you must seek a husband, look for that lucky man elsewhere. It won’t be me.”

“But you have everything I require in a spouse. You are comparatively young, handsome, wealthy and the heir to an earldom.”

“But I’m not in love with you, Miss Pattison.”

She blinked at him. “What does that have to do with marriage?”

He bent to kiss her hand. “And that is why we would never suit. May I suggest you go and throw your lures out at my nephew, Tommy? I fear Miss Alice Bryson has disappointed him. He might be young, but his father
is
a marquess.”

“I’d quite forgotten that.” A flicker of interest came into her fine eyes and then she pouted. “If you have designs on Mrs. Lyndhurst, I fear your heart will be broken. Alice says her aunt is married to the memory of her deceased husband.”

He smiled. “No, she isn’t.”

He bowed and moved away, but there was no sign of Caroline. He assumed she’d gone to make sure everything was ready for the walk through the park to the village church. It was freezing outside and the massed dark clouds threatened snow, which would make the young folk happy, and leave him feeling every twinge of his wartime injuries.

Good Lord, he really was getting old… Looking up, he saw Caroline surrounded by some of the young ladies coming back down the stairs. She’d put on a thick winter coat and a red velvet bonnet with a deep brim that concealed most of her face. Jasper suddenly decided he would go to church after all. If he intended to approach Caroline again he might need some divine intervention.

* * *

“Mrs. Lyndhurst.” Jasper tucked her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. “The ground is rather slippery. Let me help you.”

Her feet slid from under her once more and she dug her fingers into his coat for balance. She might not want to engage with him, but she wasn’t stupid enough to ignore his offer of help. She had no intention of landing on her bottom on the treacherously iced path.

The church service had been lovely, but a sense of peace had eluded her. She’d been all too aware of Jasper’s quiet presence in the row behind her and of Miss Pattison’s possessive hand on his arm. In fact, where was Miss Pattison? Caroline risked a glance around her and saw Tommy, Jasper’s nephew, guiding her through the snowdrifts as if she was made of spun sugar.

Her ankle turned and she had to grab Jasper’s arm again. He didn’t move an inch as she crashed into him, his muscled form as solid and dependable as an oak tree. He hadn’t always been so dependable, which was why she’d never considered him as anything but her highly unorthodox friend. But he radiated calm good sense now and a sense of self-worth that made her feel like a ragged leaf blowing in the wind.

“Are you all right?”

He set her back on her feet, his gaze assessing.

“Yes, thank you. I haven’t been out in this kind of weather for years.”

“I can see that,” he said drily. “You need better boots.”

“I
need
breeches and top boots.” Her feet were frozen and her stockings were as soaked as the bottom of her petticoats.

His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Now that I would like to see.”

“Women’s fashions weren’t meant to be practical.” She realized they had dropped behind everyone. “We’d better hurry.”

He eyed her carefully. “I could pick you up and sling you over my shoulder. We’d move much faster then.”

“And cause a scandal.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules, Mrs. Lyndhurst?” He started walking again, his gloved hand covering hers. “Are you afraid that if you do anything out of the ordinary it will draw people’s attention to you?”

She stared at the falling snow and kept her mouth tightly closed.

He sighed. “I hate to see you hiding away from everything.”

“I’m not hiding, I’m here with you, aren’t I? I went to church.”

“And you hated every minute of it.” His voice gentled. “Do you really have so little sense of what you mean to people?”

She stopped walking and faced him. “I’m an ageing widow with a scarred face who is doing her best to be sociable under very trying circumstances!” She realized she was angry for the first time since George had died. “Chiefly caused by you.”

“But you were never as beautiful as Maud. Do you really think your lack of beauty makes you a pariah?”

She wrenched her hand free of his. “You are impossible!”

“And you judge yourself too harshly.”

“Would you like to wake up every morning and see your ruined face in the mirror, know that your husband died trying to save you?” She jabbed at her mottled skin. “I deserve these scars, Jasper, but I don’t deserve to be pitied. If I hadn’t panicked, George would probably be alive right now, and you—you wouldn’t be bothering me!”