Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (24 page)

He splayed one hand on her chest and whispered against her temple, “Your heart is pounding.”

The same words she’d said to him, she realized. “Surely that doesn’t surprise you,” she said, mimicking the response he’d given her.

She felt his smile, but her attention was riveted to the sight, the feel, of his hands, slipping lower, lightly brushing over her breasts. Her breath caught and her eyes slid closed.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he said, his warm breath brushing by her ear. “Watch how beautiful you are.” She watched his large hands cup her breasts, teasing her nipples into aching points, rolling the aroused peaks slowly between his fingers. A long purr of pleasure vibrated in her throat. Unclasping her hands, she combed her fingers through the thick dark silk of his hair and arched her back,
offering more of herself, an invitation he immediately took advantage of.

His lips wandered down her neck, alternating between lazy kisses and velvety strokes of his tongue. Indeed, all of his caresses were languid, indolent, a shocking contrast to the sharp-edged need spearing through her.

“Nathan…” She breathed out his name in a long sigh and squirmed against him, impatient, wanting. He sucked in a sharp breath and pressed himself closer against her back, nestling the hard length of his erection more firmly between her buttocks.

“Patience, love,” he rasped against her ear.

While one hand continued to caress her breasts, his other hand continued its breathtaking descent, over her stomach, learning the curve of her waist, circling, then dipping into the sensitive hollow of her navel. Then lower, his fingertips grazing the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, Victoria.”

She obeyed, then watched, breathless and entranced as his fingers dipped lower and caressed her feminine folds. That first touch stunned her, then it was as if the floodgates of sensation opened, saturating her in awareness of her own body, her muscles straining closer to him, her hips undulating against his hand. His fingers slid over an exquisitely sensitive spot, pulling a deep moan from her throat. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror who stared out of eyelids drooped heavy with arousal, her pale skin entwined by strong, sinewy, golden brown forearms and relentless, magical fingers. The woman looked wanton and carnal. Voluptuous. Wicked.

His fingers dipped lower, caressing her with a slow circular motion that threatened to drive her mad. “I told
you,” he said in a husky rasp against her neck, “that me kneeling before you was a sight you would never see. Do you remember?”

Dear God, surely he didn’t expect her to be able to answer questions? “Yes,” she managed, the word ending on a breathless sigh of pleasure.

“You said, ‘Never say never,’ and you were right.” He slid his hands from her body and a groan of protest rose in her throat. But the groan turned into a moan when he moved in front of her. Their lips met in a lush open-mouthed kiss, tongues mating, while his hands skimmed down her back, then forward to cup her breasts. Breaking off their kiss, his lips blazed a hot trail down her neck, then lower, to her breasts. He drew her nipple into the silky heat of his mouth, a delicious tug that elicited an answering pull deep in her womb. Immersed in sensation, she gripped his shoulders, searching for an anchor, then let her head drop limply back.

After lavishing the same attention to her other breast, he slowly sank to his knees, his tongue tracing a line down the center of her torso then dipping into her navel. He kissed his way across her belly, and she heard him pull in a deep breath, then softly say, “Roses.”

His hands circled around her ankles, then slowly moved up her legs, caressing her thighs, then cupping her buttocks, lightly kneading her flesh. He feathered kisses along her abdomen, then lower, until his lips, his tongue, caressed her as his fingers had. Her grip on his shoulders tightened in direct proportion to her knees weakening. A gasp escaped her at the stab of shocking pleasure. He insinuated his shoulder between her thighs, spreading them wider. Her legs trembled, but his strong hands on her bottom supported her, urging her hips to move against him. The pleasure built to an unbearable pitch then exploded,
dragging a cry from her throat as tremors pulsed through her. As the shudders waned, they stole her strength, leaving her sated, satisfied, and utterly limp.

Without a word he rose and scooped her up in his arms. He carried her to the bed, depositing her on the turned-back bedding with a gentle bounce. She looked up at him, expecting mischief in his gaze, but he regarded her through very serious eyes. After pulling up the sheet to cover her, he hitched his hip on the mattress and tucked a curl behind her ear with fingers she noticed weren’t quite steady.

“Revenge is indeed sweet,” he murmured.

Her heart skipped. Something in his tone, in the way he’d covered her, made it seem as if he intended for their interlude to now end. Summoning her courage, she said, “But surely you’re not done.”

Something flashed in his eyes. “You wish to continue?”

“Don’t you?”

“You’re answering a question with a question. Have you thought on the matter?”

“Extensively. And not while I was, as you put it, sexually aroused or basking in the afterglow of pleasure.”

“You’ve considered
all
the ramifications?”

“Yes. Under normal circumstances I would perhaps not enter into an affair, however, there are extenuating factors here.”

“Such as?”

“Our location. It would be difficult to maintain discretion in London, but no one knows me here. I’ve no intention of ever returning here, and it’s not as if any of my Society acquaintances are in the area.”

“If we were discovered, there isn’t any distance great enough to protect you from the scandal. Then there is also the matter of pregnancy.”

“There are ways to prevent such an occurrence,” she said. “Surely as a doctor you know that.”

“Of course I do.” His eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t aware you did.”

“I’ve gleaned an enormous amount of knowledge from my reading of the
Ladies’ Guide
.”

“Ah, yes, the
Ladies’ Guide
. Clearly it is a cornucopia of information. I must admit I found the snippet I read quite titillating.”

“It isn’t merely titillating,” she said, driven to defend the book that had come to mean so much to her. “It provides information to women that we would otherwise most likely not be privy to.”

“Such as how to touch a man? Seduce a man?”

She raised her chin. “Among other things, yes.”

“Hmmm. In that case, I believe I owe the author a note of thanks. However, there are other things to consider as well. Even if an affair wasn’t discovered here, now, the fact that you’d engaged in one will be revealed on your wedding night, lending the evening a dubious outcome. I suspect that neither Branripple nor Dravensby would be pleased to learn their bride had had a lover.”

“The
Ladies’ Guide
suggests several ways to handle such a situation—a situation which the author firmly asserts is none of the gentleman’s business, by the way. Certainly men are not expected to come to the marriage bed virgins.”

“Perhaps not. But I am all curiosity. How does the author suggest you handle the situation?”

“My personal choice is enthusiasm. The
Guide
states that if a bride is an active, willing participant in the wedding night lovemaking rather than simply an inert mass, her groom will be so enthralled he won’t have the presence of mind to question the, er, details.”

His expression was unreadable, but a muscle ticked in his jaw. “I see,” he said in a neutral tone.

“I cannot see why the outcome of my wedding night would concern you.”

Something flashed in his eyes, but was gone before she could decipher it. “I’m concerned because I wouldn’t want you to be hurt. In any way.”

A frown formed between her brows. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern. But…”

“But what?”

She huffed out a breath. “Well, for a man who claims he desires me, you are frustratingly reluctant to become my lover. And unfortunately, in my numerous readings of the
Ladies’ Guide
, I do not recall any mention of how to deal with an unwilling gentleman.”

“Unwilling?” His eyes darkened and he stood. Pinning her with his gaze, he slowly unfastened his shirt. “My darling Victoria, I am most assuredly not unwilling. I simply wanted to make certain that you knew full well what you’re getting into.”

He shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it carelessly on the floor. Her gaze tracked over his chest, resting on the silky whorls of dark hair that narrowed to an ebony ribbon, bisecting his flat, ridged belly. His arousal was clearly outlined beneath his snug breeches.
Oh, my
. There was nothing about him that looked unwilling.

“And what would I be getting into?” she asked, her pulse leaping.

“A lover who won’t be satisfied to simply have you once. I’ll expect our liaison to continue for the duration of your stay in Cornwall.”

“I see.” She sat up, pushing the sheet off her, then rolled onto her knees. Reaching out, she trailed a single fingertip
down that fascinating ribbon of hair. “Then, in the interest of fair play, I’d best warn you that you, too, will be taking on a lover who won’t be satisfied to simply have you once. I also shall expect our liaison to continue for the duration of my stay in Cornwall.”

She trailed her finger around the skin just above the waistband of his breeches. His muscles jumped beneath her light touch. “A hardship I shall endeavor to bear with a smile.”

“Of course, if you don’t think you have the stamina…”

One dark brow climbed up. “You doubt my vigor?”

“If I say yes, will you prove me wrong?”

“I’m afraid it would indeed compel me to rise to the challenge.”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

N
athan didn’t hesitate. He already felt as if he’d waited forever to hold her skin-to-skin. The thirty seconds it required him to remove the rest of his clothing was an exercise in frustration, an interminable time when his usually steady hands trembled and his fingers fumbled. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this unraveled. Undone. Not in control of his passions.

The instant he stepped out of his breeches, he joined her on the bed, pressing her back against the mattress, covering her with his body. Absorbing the exquisite feel of her beneath him, he plunged his fingers into her satiny hair
and kissed her deeply, his tongue seeking entrance into the heated silk of her mouth. His rapidly diminishing control slipped another notch when she wrapped her arms around his neck and met the demanding thrust of his tongue with one of her own.

Desire pumped through him and he fought to regain the command over himself that this woman stripped him of with a glance. A single touch. Slow. He had to go slow this first time. But bloody hell, it was nearly impossible, with the taste of her in his mouth, the feel of her squirming beneath him. His body tightened, and his erection, pressed against her soft belly, jerked in response. With an agonized groan, he reared up and knelt between her thighs.

She reached for him, but he shook his head, beyond words. Hooking his hands beneath her legs, he raised her knees and spread her thighs wide. The sight of her glistening sex dragged a ragged groan from his tight throat. Reaching out, he teased the plump, slick, velvety folds. Her thigh muscles tensed, but he gently stroked her, aroused her. When her hips undulated in a silent plea, he eased first one, then two fingers inside her. She was so tight. So wet and hot. And ready. And God help him, he couldn’t wait any longer.

He lowered his body onto hers, his weight on his forearms, and looked down as he slowly entered her. She stared up at him, her blue eyes brimming with wonder and a shade of trepidation. “Give me your hands,” he said, his voice rough with want.

She slipped her hands into his, and he clasped them, entwining their fingers. Then, with his gaze fixed on hers, he thrust.

Her eyes widened and her fingers tightened on his, and he fought to remain still. “Did I hurt you?”

She slowly shook her head. The silky wet heat of her body gripped him in a velvet fist, and he gritted his teeth against the pleasure, against the desperate need to thrust.

The half minute that passed felt like a century, then her eyelids drooped and her lips parted with a breathy sigh. “Your body on mine…in mine…it feels…delicious.”

She lifted her hips, embedding him deeper, and his war with his control was lost. With a groan, he withdrew nearly all the way from her body, then slowly slid deep. Again. Again. Over and over, faster and harder, feeling each breath ripped from his lungs, need clawing him with ever sharpening talons. Her eyes slid closed and she arched her back, pushing her hips up to meet each thrust. Her breathing turned choppy and her hands gripped his tighter. A cry escaped her, and he felt her climax overtake her, pulsing around him. The instant he felt her relax beneath him, he withdrew from her and buried his face in the warm curve of her neck, his erection pressed tightly between them. His release shuddered through him, dragging her name from his throat in a guttural rasp.

For several long seconds he remained perfectly still, breathing in the delicate fragrance of roses warmed with the musk of arousal. Then he lifted his head and looked down into her beautiful face. Her skin was flushed with the afterglow of pleasure, her moist lips plush and red from their passionate kissing, her eyes awash with sensual discovery. She slid her hand from his loosened grasp and laid her palm against his cheek.

A tiny smile trembled on her lips, then she whispered, “Nathan.”

A warmth, a tenderness like nothing he’d ever known, ambushed him. His gaze steady on hers, he gently kissed her scraped palm. “Victoria.”

Her smile bloomed fuller, her eyes slid closed, and she stretched beneath him. His gaze followed the graceful line of her cheek and froze on the red mark marring the pale skin beneath her jaw. An image exploded in his mind, of the knife against her throat, nicking her flesh. She could have been killed. He could have lost her. A sense of fury and loss burned through him, leaving in its wake a single awareness that blazed with undeniable clarity.

He loved her.

The realization walloped him like a blow to the temple, and he shook his head as if to clear it of the notion. But there was no budging the thought from his mind now that it had rooted itself there.

Bloody hell
. Surely he wouldn’t be that stupid. To fall in love with a woman who was so utterly wrong for him. As he was for her. A woman who planned to soon choose a husband—a man who would never be him. She wanted a Society fop with a title and money and estates and a love of Town life. The sort of man who would escort her to the opera and soirees, and who could afford to shower her with jewels. That man was definitely not him.

Oh, he wasn’t poor by any means, yet neither was he wealthy, nor did he aspire to be. Three years ago he’d thought money important enough to risk everything, and the result had cost him dearly. Had nearly cost Colin and Gordon their lives. Now his riches came in the form of his peaceful, modest life in Little Longstone. Victoria’s world existed in an orbit far above and beyond his—an orbit that did not intersect his at any point. Yet, still the words echoed through his mind and heart:
I love her
.

Double bloody hell
. He loved her. Her wit and charm. Her smile and determination. Her courage, intelligence, and kindness. The way she challenged him. The way she
made him feel. She’d captivated him the instant he saw her three years ago, and he’d spent the intervening time convincing himself that she was nothing more than a spoiled hothouse flower. That the chemistry he’d felt between them had merely been a figment of his imagination. Now, with the passage of only two days, she’d knocked aside his perceptions, proving not only that there was much more to her than he’d supposed, but that the chemistry he’d imagined between them had been no mistake. If she could do that to him in a matter of days, what havoc might she wreak upon him in a matter of weeks?

Good God. This was
not
supposed to happen. He was supposed to fall in love with a demure country chit who enjoyed the same simple things he did, the same modest lifestyle. Not a Society diamond who thrived in the glittering world he eschewed. A woman who would return to her fancy life in London and leave him behind with nothing more than memories and a broken heart.

Surely he’d simply taken temporary leave of his senses. He brightened at the thought. Yes, an aberration, that’s all this madness was. A post coital quirk that would clear up as soon as he put some distance between.

“Nathan…are you all right?”

Her soft voice yanked him from his thoughts. She was looking up at him with a concerned, confused expression.

No
. “Yes. I’m fine.”
I’m anything but. And it’s entirely your fault
. He eased off her, then strode to the hearth to pick up the forgotten towels. At the wash basin he quickly cleansed himself, keeping his back to her. Fifteen feet now separated them. He pulled in a deep breath, relieved when he felt his self-possession seep back into his veins. Excellent. Just as he’d suspected, all he needed was to put a bit of distance between them. How could he possibly be
expected to think properly while she lay naked beneath him? He couldn’t. But now he could. A distraction—that’s all she was. A beautiful, rose-scented distraction. Relief suffused him. Thank God everything was once again back in perspective.

After wringing the excess water from the towel, he turned back. His gaze met Victoria’s from across the room, and his relief and perspective vanished like a poof of smoke in a windstorm.

He loved her.

Bloody hell.

With a calm he was far from feeling, he walked back to the bed with the dampened towel. Resting one hip on the mattress, he gently bathed away the evidence of their spent passion. He forced himself to concentrate on the task and not look into her eyes, for fear she’d read his feelings, discover what his heart longed to proclaim but could not:
I love you
.

A fissure of annoyance at himself edged through him. Damn it, during his years in service to the Crown, he’d perfected the art of lying. Hiding his emotions behind an unreadable mask. It wouldn’t be difficult to call upon those skills again.
You’re not that man anymore
, his inner voice whispered. No, he wasn’t. And he never wanted to be that man again. But for however long she remained in Cornwall, he’d have to pretend to be.

Setting aside the used towel, he drew up the sheet around her. Only after her pale naked beauty was covered did he dare look at her. And everything inside him stilled.

Her eyes were wide with distress and glistened with unshed tears. Her lower lip quivered, delivering a blow to his heart. “I’ve displeased you,” she whispered.

He lightly clasped her fingers, stilling them from fidg
eting with the counterpane and inwardly cursed himself for giving her the wrong impression. “No. God, no.”

She lifted her chin in that way of hers he found so endearing, but even that show of bravado couldn’t hide the hurt and confusion in her gaze. “I’m not blind, Nathan. If I’ve done something to disappoint you, I want you to tell me what it is.”

“Nothing,” he said, bringing her hands to his lips and pressing a fervent kiss against the backs of her fingers. “I swear it. If anything you pleased me
too
much.” He forced a crooked smile. “You quite unraveled me, my dear, which I fear surprised me.”

A bit of the worry faded from her eyes with dawning comprehension. “And you don’t like surprises.”

“I confess I find them…unsettling. But in this particular case, I found it enchanting.”

There was no mistaking her relief. “I could say the same, you know.”

“You could—or you are?” he teased.

She laughed, and he felt as if the sun emerged from behind the clouds. “Was that a shameful bid for a compliment?”

He blew out an exaggerated put-upon sigh. “I’d force myself to listen to any accolades you might wish to toss my way.”

“Very well. I believe I now know what it is you do best.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. And I’d very much like for you to show me again.”

He turned over her hand and kissed her palm. “What if I told you that I still hadn’t demonstrated what I do best?”

The way her eyes widened and darkened fired pure lust through him. She sat up and the sheet fell away, exposing
her breasts. “Then I most definitely am anxious to discover what it is you
do
do best.”

Reaching out, he teased his fingers over her rosy nipples, watching them tighten, his body experiencing the same pull of want. “I certainly know what you do best, Victoria.”

She arched into his hand and sighed. “What is that?”

“You captivate—by simply entering a room. You fascinate—with your unexpected facets. You enchant—with a single smile. You seduce—with nothing more than a look.”

“That’s four things,” she said in a breathy whisper.

“And you excel at all of them.”

She sifted her fingers through his hair then urged his head toward hers. “Kiss me,” she said, an impatient edge to her voice.

Biting back a smile, he allowed her to pull him closer. He brushed his lips over hers, then traced the fullness of her lower lip with his tongue. “You’re very demanding, you know.”

“I’ve decided it’s far more effective than being demur.”

He instantly recalled their first kiss and her impatient one word response:
Again
. “Were you ever demur?”

She leaned back and a look of confusion passed over her features. “I don’t know. I know I am expected to be. But tossing out demands—I like it. Before I started doing so, I was simply patted on the head and relegated to the corner like an ornamental object.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth and she leaned forward. “Again.”

“It would be my pleasure.” But even as his lips met hers and he pressed her back onto the mattress and covered her body with his, he knew that the pleasure they’d share in the days to come would leave him with the pain of a broken heart.