Lady Falls (Black Rose Trilogy) (11 page)

“It is so…strange and noble, isn’t it?” she sighed and he kissed her for it.  He kissed her for being so sweet and wild and Raven.

He covered her hand to guide her touch, teaching her what pleased him best and then realized his mistake.  For Raven was an apt and eager pupil and when she added the faintest drag of her fingernails to the game, Phillip held his breath and prayed he didn’t spend himself.

Too quick.  God, when did I ever feel this rush?  Boasting…about….how I took every woman at my leisure…who was that fool?  My innocent Raven is holding the reins now and I am flying!

It was all happening much more swiftly than he wished but every effort to slow her backfired. There was nothing to be done.  Phillip knew he’d forfeited civility—forfeited every layer of restraint, stripped to a primal need to achieve her.

“Raven,” he said as he pulled back to part her thighs, to reach up under her skirts and when his fingers encountered folds so slick and so hot it made his breath seize up in his chest.  She was already so wet, so ready, it shook him.  He’d meant to prepare her, to ensure that her desire would be a match for the impending moment he couldn’t delay, but the honey that coated his fingertips ignited a dark storm that roared through him. 

Meant
to
…
should
…
a better man would…

The words lost meaning.

He pushed her skirts up around her waist and positioned his hips between her thighs, the swollen tip of his cock notching up against the silky damp fire of her entrance.  He hesitated, his eyes closing as the sweet promise of her body beckoned him—but Raven managed to surprise him once again.

She arched up, her channel seizing him, crying out as he encountered her virginal barrier.  Phillip kissed her to ease the pain, distracting her for just a few seconds before he reared back and then took her completely in one masterful and forceful thrust that irrevocably ended the dilemma. 

He held only long enough for her channel to accept him, stretching to hold him fast.  Phillip kissed her neck again, whispering a stream of soothing promises into the curve of her ears, rewarded as she relaxed and the molten confines of her body beckoned him on.

She didn’t shrink from him, from any of it. Her thighs widened and she urged him to move into her, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing her heels into his lower back.  She moaned and writhed beneath him and Phillip fell back into the race.  He withdrew and returned, each stroke a revelation for them both.

She was so tight, her muscles gripping and releasing him in a mystery of possession and power.  Thrusting, thrusting, faster and faster, until he was sure he was flying, soaring, tethered to the earth only by Raven until the red hot sand pooling between his hips electrified and he knew he was close.

Close and then gone…his world contracted into a spasm of white-searing ecstasy, a release that ripped from him in jetting torrents that robbed him of all language.  His climax shuddered and then peaked again, forcing him to cry out.

Phillip sagged against her, struggling to balance on his elbows to keep from crushing her.  He was not a novice at the arts of love, but it was all he could do not to weep at the strength of an orgasm that had wrenched him free of his existence.

It took several seconds before he could think clearly enough to speak.

“Raven…that was…not how I….hoped…”

“No?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.  “Did I do it wrong?”

He shook his head.  “No, but I definitely could have done better by you.”  His breathing was ragged as he gently kissed her forehead and then the tip of her nose.

“Truly?” she asked breathlessly.  “How marvelous!”

He knew she hadn’t climaxed but the reality that she had no notion of how selfish the encounter had been was nearly his undoing.  “Raven.  It will be.  I promise.”

She sighed and wriggled in contentment, inadvertently forcing Phillip to hold his breath as he was treated to an after-shock from his overly sensitive flesh still held in the grip of her body.  A faint echo of a secondary climax unfurled from his spinal cord and Phillip prayed he didn’t faint from the delicious torment of it.

“Woman.  Don’t.  Move.”

Raven instantly obeyed, but a gleam in her grey eyes told him that he wouldn’t always be so lucky.  Phillip disengaged as delicately as he could, freeing her from him, wincing at the glimpse of blood on her thighs.  “Are you all right?” he asked her cautiously, making an intense study of her face for any hint of hurt or fear.

She smiled at him.  “I feel wonderful though a bit strange…”

“Strange?”

“Strange because I do not know myself anymore.  I have the urge to sleep in your arms but also to run and dance about like a pagan queen; and cannot decide which impulse would be wise.”  Raven laughed.  “If being deflowered parts me from my reason, I shall have to begin preparing myself for bedlam, Phillip.  For I don’t think I wish to stop.  Ever.”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head then rolled away to tuck himself away and rebutton his pants.  “We are already mad.  Oh, god, I know I am supposed to start moaning apologies but I am not sorry, Raven.  God help me.  If regret comes later, it will only be at your bidding.”  He kissed her forehead, a weak attempt to cool his ardor.  “To hell with it, I’ll speak to the earl before another hour passes and if it goes badly, we can elope.”

“Phillip,” she sighed and raised herself up to her knees to kiss his temples and smooth his brow with the cool blades of her fingers.  “Yes.  I want you to speak to Lord Trent but…I think we must choose the hour more wisely.”

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying, my love, that he has rebuffed the subject once today and I know him.  If we rush back with another petition, his temper will refuse you even if his common sense dictates acceptance.”  She sighed.  “If he challenged you to move slowly, than I have spoiled things, haven’t I?”

“Nothing is spoiled.”  Phillip said levelly, struggling not to be distracted by the sight of Raven Wells bared to the waist.  “Shall we…give him the impression that things are unfolding…at a more natural pace?” He caught the tip of one pert breast in his mouth and suckled her as she arched her back to beg him for more.

“Phillip!”

He forced himself to lift his head.  “Raven.  Look at me.  Can we do this?  Can we—look at each other politely across that dinner table and publicly keep a polite distance for a few days?”

She pouted at the loss of his mouth to her flesh but finally nodded.  “Yes, but only if you do not deny me when no one is looking.”   She retrieved his shirt and coat from the ground and held it out to him, the embodiment of an enticing beauty who would have her way.  “You promised to do better, Mr. Warrick.”

“Raven Wells, I don’t think I will ever be able to deny you—anything.  But I am a man of my word and I look forward to it.”

Chapter
Eleven

“Oh, no! What’s this?” Kitty asked the instant she crossed the threshold of her bedroom.  “Don’t you dare tell me the gathering is off!  I just spent the night finishing those alterations!”

Raven threw herself face down onto the bed with a giggle. “It is on, though what do I care?”

“I’ll tell you what you care!  That’s twenty six yards of fabric and my eyes gone blind finishing that dress in time, mistress.”  Kitty crossed her arms, a woman possessed.  “You’ll wear it with beaming smiles and the grace of a queen or I’ll snatch the hair off your head!”

Raven lifted her face from the pillows, openly enjoying Kitty’s fit. “Such violent threats!  How surprising to hear them from a girl as mild as yourself, Miss Polk!”

Kitty’s fingers flew to cover her own lips in shock.  “I—I’m sorry.  But if you knew how I’ve struggled with those flounces…”

“I meant I’m already so deliriously happy, what do I need of dancing?”

“No one
needs
to dance.  Don’t be ridiculous.  If I know anything about young ladies your age, you’re going to measure your life in terms of dance cards so don’t you be flopping about over there and sighing on—“ Kitty stopped herself abruptly, a new look of suspicion in her eyes.  “Why are you so happy?”

Raven shimmied off the bed to elude Kitty’s study.  “I am always happy.  You said yourself it was a marvel.  I should rest before dinner.  The earl is determined that things continue to go well.  I want to wear the blue and that opal choker and diamond hair chain.”

“Not too much for a dinner at Oakwell?”

Raven shook her head firmly.  “Lord Trent has ordered me to shine, Kitty.” 
And I want Phillip to be dazzled and see that I am not cowering in shame, but that his touch has made me glow.

Phillip made an objective inventory of everything on his plate.  Then he did it in French, then Latin, and in one last desperate try, attempted it all in alphabetical order.  Even so, nothing could match the sight of Raven wearing an evening gown that bared her neck and shoulders, jewels gleaming at her throat and a rope of diamonds threaded through her ebony curls.  

Even Lady Baybrook was mollified to shower her with compliments and poor Mr. Sheffield dropped his knife no less than three times.

Miss Raven Wells had come into her own.

And only Phillip knew the true cause of it.  He’d held an innocent in his arms and taken liberties that he might never be able to atone for; but regret failed to overtake him.  Instead there was only the promise of a future full of passion and true happiness. 

It was only a matter of time.

“What a fuss over bunting!” the earl growled.  “Apparently no ball is sanctioned without a sufficient amount of bunting!”

“Decorations speak to your level of taste, Lord Trent,” Lady Baybrook advised.  “Think of it as an opportunity rather than a burden, sir.”

Geoffrey laughed darkly.  “An opportunity to empty my purse and have my pockets picked!”

“What colors have you chosen?” Lady Morley asked.

“Gold and jade green,” he replied.  “Not much of a stretch since the ballroom is edged in gilt and the floors are inlaid green marble.  Let me be honest, I’m not refurnishing my house!  I don’t care how many of the county’s finest sniff the drapes, there is only so far I am willing to go to accommodate them.”

“They will express nothing but gratitude and joy at your generosity, I am sure of it.” Raven smiled at him. 

“Sure, are you?” Trent shook his head.  “My dear girl, you always see the best in everyone and all things.  However shall I protect you?”  He looked at Phillip.  “Like a lamb amidst wolves, eh, Warrick?”

Phillip did his best to summon his best poker face.  “Yes but thanks to you, I think that lamb has the intelligence and wit needed to keep far ahead of the pack.”

“Right you are!  How right you are!” Trent smiled, his mood openly improving.  “Woe betide the predator that thinks one flash of teeth will give them victory.  What say you, Raven?”

“Gracious!  Is it a dance or a gladiatorial arena where I will be chained to a post and facing wild dogs?  If so then I shall have to rethink my choice of accessories!” Raven said. 

“There, there, my dear.  You will conquer London with nothing more dangerous than a fan and a wicked smile, won’t you?” Trent reached over to lift his glass in her direction.  “A man has no defense against a woman’s weaponry.”

Raven blushed.  “Now I don’t know if I’m arming for a debut or a battle.”

“Are they not the same thing?” the earl taunted her.  “But enough of this.  My Raven has no need to concern herself with any of it.  A social season of dancing will blur to memory before I need worry about sorting through offers of marriage and the dull business that separates me from my ward.  I have no desire to rush toward that day and if any man tries to push me, I’ll cut him off at the knees.”

“So much for the local bucks enjoying the evening.”  Mr. Sheffield noted.

Phillip re-inventoried his peas.  Raven’s wisdom at postponing his petition was obviously reinforced but it didn’t make him more comfortable.  He’d deflowered the girl and while there would yet be a London season, she would arrive as a married woman and not a debutante—an altogether different proposition.  But he made a mental note to be sure to provide her with the loveliest season in London he could to ensure that there was no lacking or question of sacrifice.

“—agree, Mr. Warrick?”

“Pardon?” Phillip realized he’d missed Mr. Carlton’s question.  “I’m so sorry.  I was…lost in thought.”

It was not the time to look at Raven but there was no stopping himself.  They were lost together and it gave him courage.

Lord Morley tapped his glass to have it refilled.  “The man is too polite to admit that he is bored with conversation about bunting and the prospects for Miss Wells’ dance cards.  God, what man wouldn’t be?  I’ve heard of nothing else for days as if my wife’s brain had been emptied of all else!”

“I hope I have not overtaxed you with the subject, my dear,” Lady Morley said softly.  “It has been so long since I’ve danced!”

“Quiet your prattling, Millicent!  You only underline my point and you dance more than any respectable woman has a right to!” Lord Morley rolled his eyes in disgust.  “A married woman!”

“Don’t be too hard on her, Lord Morley,” Trent said.  “There’s not a female on the grounds who isn’t waxing a bit poetic these days.  But come, cheer up and tell me that you are looking forward to the shooting tomorrow.”

Talk turned to guns and the prospects of the men’s outing, and Phillip participated as best as he could.  He’d packed two rifles in anticipation of the entertainment and at last, was able to keep up with the banter of the party.

The women withdrew as the meal finished and Phillip breathed a sigh of relief.  He’d survived his first foray into overt deception under Trent’s discerning nose.

One dinner down.  A dozen treacherous tests yet ahead…

Phillip stopped in his room after the women departed to the salon to retrieve the gift of cigars for Trent he’d forgotten to bring with him only to find Mr. Timms holding his shirt aloft to make a study of a green stain across the shoulders.

“Timms.”

“I’m sorry, sir.  I was just—seeing what I can make of this.  Did you have a mishap, Mr. Warrick?”

Hardly, but I suppose that depends on which side of this you land on. 

“I was lounging in the grass by the lake and may have…slipped.” 

Mr. Timms shook his head.  “I believe I have something to save it, sir.  It is too fine a linen to sacrifice.  But the coat, the lining will need replacing.”

Phillip nodded.  “Do what you can.   Thank you, Mr. Timms.”

“Did you come up for something, sir?”

“I brought a small box of cigars and wished to offer them to the others.”  Phillip pulled a wrapped parcel from a drawer next to the bed.  “I remembered that Lord Trent had a fondness for rare blends.”

“You remember rightly.  Though he loathes snuff and will deride any man who uses it in his presence.”  Mr. Timms stepped back to allow Phillip to take his leave.

“A good bit of knowledge to tuck away.”  Phillip turned to go then stopped.  “Timms?”

“Yes, Sir Warrick?”

“No need to wait up.  I think we’ll go late and I can see myself to bed.”

“Very good, sir.” Mr. Timms nodded.  “I am very appreciative to the courtesy since I’ll be faring better than most of the manservants.  Sleep is harder and harder to come by as the ball draws closer.  Some of the staff will be up the next two nights through to prepare the house so I shouldn’t be surprised if you see a few souls in the halls at every hour.”

“Oh, how…difficult for them!”   His hopes of slipping into Raven’s rooms to make good on his promises faded quickly at the news, but he was relieved to avoid detection.  Though the coincidence of Timms’ well-timed advice was a little unsettling.   

“They’ll be waiting for you downstairs, sir.”

“Yes.  I don’t want to—disappoint.”

Even if I’m destined to do exactly that…