Jacquie D'Alessandro (22 page)

“Is that what you want, Catherine? To be led astray?”

“I’m not certain precisely what that entails, but it sounds…tantalizing.”

“I’d be delighted to show you.”

She splayed her hands against his chest, further emboldened by the rapid pounding of his heart against her palms. Her entire body quickened in anticipation of his touch. “Excellent. I’m looking forward to a proper good-bye.”

“My darling Catherine, there is nothing the least bit proper about the good-bye you’re about to receive.”

His mouth covered hers in a searing, devouring kiss. She slid her hands inside his jacket to stroke his back, feeling a desperate, overwhelming need to touch, to be touched everywhere at once. With a ragged groan, he deepened their kiss, his tongue plunging and stroking while he filled his hands with her aching breasts, his fingers teasing her sensitive nipples, which begged for more. His lips left her mouth, and he pressed hot, fervent kisses across her jaw, down her neck, then skimmed over her chest. His tongue laved drugging swirls around her aroused nipples before drawing each aroused bud into the velvety heat of his mouth. Catherine arched her back in a silent plea to taste more of her, and he obliged, while she tangled her fingers in his thick, silky hair

She squirmed against him, and in response he sank to
his knees, trailing openmouthed kisses along her stomach. Her muscles quivered when he tasted the indentation of her navel. She sucked in a breath, filling her head with an erotic scent she recognized as her own feminine musk, combined with Andrew’s sandalwood.

“Spread your legs for me, Catherine,” he demanded in a raw rasp, the words vibrating against her stomach.

Feeling as if she were burning from the inside out, she obeyed, and he rewarded her by stroking the swollen, wet folds between her thighs. A gasp, followed by a long purr of pleasure rippled in her throat, and she gripped his shoulders.

He pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just below her navel, then his lips glided lower, lower, until his tongue caressed her as his fingers just had.

Amazing, shocking sensations ripped through her. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the wall, inflamed beyond reason as he cupped her bottom in his palms and made love to her with his mouth, worshiping, tormenting her with his lips and tongue until she thought she’d go mad from the pleasure. Her climax roared through her, flashes of all-consuming fire, dragging a harsh cry from her lips.

Her spasms had no sooner subsided than he stood and swiftly carried her to the bed, where he laid her upon the counterpane. With exquisite tremors still rippling through her, she held out her arms, silently beseeching him to come to her, desperate to feel his delicious weight, the thrust of his arousal inside her. The five seconds it required him to free his erection from his breeches seemed to her like an eternity. He loomed over her, settling himself between her splayed thighs, and entered her in one long, smooth, heart-stopping stroke.

Their gazes locked, and with every nuance of his in
tense expression visible in the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains, he moved slowly within her, penetrating deep, then almost withdrawing from her body, only to sink deep once again. Her hands strayed restlessly over his back, then gripped his shoulders. He quickened his strokes, and she moaned, meeting, accepting, savoring his every thrust. She arched her back, and her pleasure overtook once more. A masculine moan, sounding as if scraped from his throat, echoed in the room. He buried his head in the V of her shoulder and shuddered his release, murmuring her name over and over, like a prayer.

Breathing hard, Andrew rolled onto his side, bringing her with him, then closed his eyes and fought to regain control. Bloody hell, this woman, their lovemaking, rendered him vanquished. Vulnerable. More raw and exposed than he’d ever felt in his entire life. How would he bear it if she did not return his feelings? Didn’t want him to be part of her life permanently? She cared, he could tell she did. But did she care enough?

When the world righted itself again, he leaned back and brushed her tousled hair from her flushed face. She dragged her eyes open with obvious effort, and he swallowed a groan of longing at the slumberous, languorous smolder in her golden brown depths. Surely there was something he should say to her. God knows his heart was close to bursting with all he felt for her. But he feared saying too much. Worried that if he spoke, he wouldn’t stop until he told her she owned his heart. Had owned it for much longer than she knew. Would always own it. Yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain the words much longer. Soon, she would know. And he prayed to God that telling her wouldn’t cost him what they now shared. Because as miraculous as it was, having her body simply wasn’t enough.

For several seconds she said nothing, just looked at him with an expression that seemed troubled. And confused. Then her expression cleared and a tiny smile lifted one corner of her lips, coaxing him to touch his lips to the spot. “Oh, my.” She sighed. “I just added to my list of firsts. That was my first time being led astray. I hope it isn’t my last.”

“I’d be delighted to oblige you at any time, my lady. You’ve only to ask.”

“I very much enjoyed my proper good-bye, Andrew.”

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “That’s because it was your
im
proper good-bye. And if you enjoyed that, I’m certain you’ll like tomorrow night’s proper, or rather
im
proper, hello even more.”

“Oh, my. What does that mean?”

“I cannot tell you. It is a surprise.” When she appeared about to argue, he said, “Do I need to fetch the dictionary?”

“No.” She tilted her chin, feigning sticking her nose in the air. “However, I am therefore not going to tell you about the surprise
I
have planned.”

“A surprise? For me?”

“Perhaps,” she said airily.

“What is it?”

“Ha! Who requires the dictionary now?”

“How about a hint? Just a tiny one?” he asked, holding his thumb and forefinger close together.

A delightful sound that could only be described as a giggle bubbled from between her lips. “Absolutely not.”

Leaning forward, he brushed his tongue over the delicate shell of her ear. “Please?”

“Ooh. Well, perhaps…no. Definitely not.”

“Ah, a woman of strong will,” he murmured, skimming his fingers lightly down the center of her spine.

“As Today’s Modern Woman should be.”

“However, Today’s Modern Woman also knows that it is wise to make an indelible impression in her gentleman’s mind so he cannot ever completely dismiss her from his thoughts. Giving me a miniscule hint regarding the nature of your surprise would surely whet my appetite and guarantee that you’d remain uppermost in my mind while I’m away.”

She went perfectly still—except for her eyes, which narrowed. “What did you say?”

“That by giving me a hint—”

“Before that.”

Andrew frowned and thought for several seconds. “I believe I said, ‘Today’s Modern Woman also knows that it is wise to make an indelible impression in her gentleman’s mind so he cannot ever completely dismiss her from his thoughts.’ Is that what you’re referring to?”

“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed further. “Where did you learn such a thing?”

“Why, from
A Ladies’Guide,
of course.”

Andrew had to clench his jaw to keep a straight face at her dumbfounded expression. “How on earth would you know what was written in
A Ladies Guide
?”

“Brace yourself, my dear, but one often does learn something when one reads.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve read the
Guide
.”

“Very well, I won’t tell you that, but why you’d want me to lie to you is a mystery.”

“You read the
Guide
?”

“Every word. Cover to cover.”

“When? Where? How?”

“Such an inquisitive nature. Let me see. As to when, the night before last—before we met at the springs. As for where, in my bedchamber. And to answer how, I purchased a copy the morning we departed London. Our
conversation at your father’s party intrigued me, and I decided to read the tome to see what all the fuss was about. And I must confess, I was somewhat contrarily driven by the fact that you seemed so positive I would not read such drivel.”

“That was your description, not mine.”

“Was it? Well, I stand corrected.”

“Meaning what precisely?”

“That I found the
Guide
very…informative. And well written.”

There was no missing the smug satisfaction that fired in her eyes. “I believe I mentioned as much.”

“You did. Indeed, you defended the book and the author with the sort of fierce loyalty a mother tiger normally bestows upon her cubs.”

Crimson suffused her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the wash of brilliant color. “Surely you can understand why the book is causing such a scandal.”

Her blush deepened. “Yes, but I believe the information it provides women far outweighs any trodden-upon sensibilities. Charles Brightmore should be praised for what he’s done.”

“Again you fiercely defend him. Almost as if you…knew him.”

She pressed her lips together, then shifted out of his embrace. He let her go, watching her slide off the bed, then retrieve her robe, slipping her arms into the silk sleeves. After she’d tightened the sash around her waist, she turned to face him, her eyes intense with suppressed emotion.

“I defend him because God knows I wish I’d had access to the information provided by the
Guide
before I’d wed. Or at any time during the early days of my marriage. I went to my marriage bed knowing
nothing
about what to
do or what to expect. I did not know women could experience pleasure during lovemaking. I had no idea lovemaking involved anything more than a few minutes in a darkened room with my nightgown rucked up to my waist. I didn’t know that the warmth that began during those few minutes could, if properly tended, ignite into a blazing inferno that scorched everything in its path. I did not know I was capable of the sort of lust and hunger that I’d always associated with men. Charles Brightmore taught me all those things and more. He taught me, encouraged me, to allow myself to feel those things. And to act upon them.”

“I see. You know, I’ve heard rumors that suggest Brightmore may in fact be a woman,” he remarked casually, watching her.

“Indeed? Where did you hear that?”

He rose, and adjusted his clothing while he spoke. “Most recently at your father’s birthday party. Personally, I think it’s intriguing, and entirely possible. Brightmore writes with an understanding of women that I’ve never before encountered in a man, no matter how sophisticated or worldly.” He smiled. “In case you aren’t aware, women are notoriously difficult to understand, yet Brightmore clearly does not suffer from the same confusions as the rest of us poor males.”

“Obviously he is well-versed in the ways of women.”

“Obviously. Yet it makes one curious as to how he gained such knowledge.”

“Through numerous intimacies, like the ones we’ve recently shared, I imagine,” she said, walking forward until they almost touched. She splayed her hands on his abdomen; yet even while he welcomed her touch, he had the undeniable suspicion that she was trying to distract him. But considering she was so very distracting, he shoved the suspicion aside.

“Perhaps,” he conceded. “You do realize, of course, that this now means that
I
am the winner of our wager.”

She cocked a brow. “Indeed? The wager that only last night you led me to believe
I’d
won?”

“I beg to differ. As I recall, you insisted, quite emphatically, that you’d won. I, in the spirit of being a gentleman, simply did not argue with you.”

He bit back a smile at her snort. “Not argue with me? Well, that is a first.”

“I sensed it was the wisest course, and I very much wanted to know what boon you wished. Believe me when I say that I was delighted to discover that your wish so closely mirrored my own.”

“Yet now I owe you a boon.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“And what do you desire?”

His fingers kneaded her supple waist. “So many things…it will require a great deal of thought to settle upon just one.” He ran his palms down, over her hips. “What is this?” he asked, fingering a small, hard bump near her hip.

After a slight hesitation she slipped her hand into her robe’s pocket and withdrew a ring, which she held up to the light. Prisms of diamond flash glittered, bouncing off the walls, floor, and ceiling, as if she’d tossed a handful of stars into the air. “My wedding ring,” she said.

Unreasonable, ridiculous jealousy slapped Andrew at that physical symbol of her husband’s claim upon her. He knew a fair amount about gems, yet one did not need to be an expert to see that the stones were exquisite. Forcing his voice to remain neutral, he said, “I’ve never seen you wear it. Why was it in your pocket?”

“I don’t wear it. I was merely looking at it. When I heard the knock on my door, I slipped it into my pocket
and forgot about it.” She handed him the ring. “What do you think of it?”

He studied it carefully. “The stones, individually, are all beautiful, even the smaller ones. Yet, I’m surprised this is a ring you would have chosen.”

“Why?”

He handed it back to her, not wanting to touch it any longer. “It just somehow doesn’t seem to suit you.”
Because I didn’t give it to you.
“It looks a bit overwhelming for your delicate hand. But I suppose that there is no such thing as too large a jewel.”

“Actually, I think there is. And while I’d wager many would think this ring lovely, I hate it. I’ve always hated it.”

He watched her closely. “Why is that?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not overly fond of diamonds. I find them colorless and cold. Although he was aware of that, Bertrand still gave me this ring, not because he thought I would like it, but because it was the ring
he
wanted me to wear. It did not matter what I liked or wanted. Unfortunately, I was too naïve at the time he gave it to me to see it as a harbinger of things to come.”