Lord Lightning (26 page)

So it had been with only the faintest tremble that she had given her hand to Edward in the library and let him lead her up the stairs to her small room in the attic. When they reached the landing, she stood at the doorway, uncertainly fumbling with the knob, hoping he would not turn away and leave her there alone. That he had forbidden her to do this was no longer a concern. She would leave him the next morning, anyway, before he had a chance to send her away. Still, she half expected him to make some protest as she pushed open the heavy, squeaking door and drew him into the room after her. But he, too, seemed to have forgot his prohibition, for he had followed her into the tiny bedroom and closed the door behind them with a decisive click.

He put the branch of candles he was carrying down on the table. He dropped her satchel and placed her new book on the side table where the gold stamping on the bindings glowed dimly in the candlelight. Then he stopped and looked at her with a questioning look that made her feel all the more how devastated she would be if he were to leave her now. Still clutching his hand, she led him silently toward the bed and motioned him to sit down beside her.

As he seated himself beside her on the bed his eyes met hers, and she saw that, inexplicably, they were filled with a look of determination. For a moment, again, she expected him to rise and flee. But he did not. So she would make the most of it. He was here with her tonight, and though tomorrow
she must leave him, before she left she would learn what it was that happened next between two people who had been drawn together as strongly as the two of them had been.

As if he had heard her thoughts, he leaned over, whispered her name, and then kissed her.

It was not like the kiss by the shore. Then they had been outside, and the energy of their kiss had risen with the wind and been quenched by the sound of the sea. But there was no sea here. There was no wind here. There was only the rising feeling of something inside her as old as the sea and as fleeting as the wind that reached out toward him in the silent privacy of the small bedroom and waited for him to show the way.

And he knew it. His kiss was long and slow. As his lips parted, taking hers with them, the soft, delicate probing of his tongue met hers, and she felt an agony as something opened within her she had not known was there. It was as if a current of yearning flowed from his tongue to the pulsing center of her body. And then his hands began their dance.

His fingers glided over her silk-covered breasts, teasing and treasuring them, gently and then harder, as if he had heard her need and responded to it almost before she’d become aware of it. The current flowed stronger as she soaked in the exquisite sensations. He pulled loose the sash of her scandalous dressing gown, and it gave way, falling open before him and revealing her naked body. His deep brown eyes widened and became
even more beautiful as he regarded her in the candlelight. His pupils were black and immense. There was nothing between the two of them now but skin and energy.

His fingertips found her nipples and twirled them into madness. Sensations flooded her, almost too much to take in. Overwhelmed, she lay back against the thin pillow on the bed. His lips broke contact with hers, filling her with disappointment until, moments later, they found the hollow of her neck, and his feather-light kisses sent electric shivers pulsing through her body. Almost before she knew it, his lips had moved on and licked and nibbled at her ear. The sound of his quickening breath ignited a yearning deep within her.

He pulled himself upright. As his hands grasped the bottom of his shirt, she hungrily took in the flash of his cool pale skin against the darkness as he peeled off the shirt and tossed it aside. The golden hairs that spread down the center of his chest gleamed faintly in the candlelight, gilding him with dancing sparks.

Then he embraced her again. His flesh against hers was warm and comforting. The hard muscles of his naked chest sank into the resilient softness of her breasts. As he pulled her closer the touch of his wiry curls as they brushed against her sensitive skin inflamed her. Still clasping her in his warm embrace, he gently adjusted her position until she was lying on her side. Then his hands roved up and down her back, pressing on muscles that luxuriated in the release brought about by his touch.
He kneaded them harder, making tension melt and sending waves of pleasure coursing down her spine. As he drew spirals on her shoulder blades with the tips of his fingernails, she gripped him convulsively, filled with need for him.

Then again, he released her, but this time she felt no fear he would not return. She watched as he drew off his breeches and stood before her as nature had made him, proudly erect, massive and beautiful in a way she had not known a man could be. Though there was something frightening, too, about the power that now radiated from him.

As if he had sensed how new this was to her, when he took his place beside her again in the bed, he stroked her cheek. He made little comforting noises with his mouth and moved his hands slowly down her flanks with a gentle teasing touch. Again the hunger built within her, even stronger than before. She raised her lips to his and kissed him fiercely, pouring into her kiss all the desire he had made her feel. Her tongue throbbed as it explored the taste of him. She felt herself becoming moist inside.

She needed so much more of him. Still locked in their kiss, she drew his naked body closer, pressing herself against his long, luxuriant flank, and writhing against him as she rejoiced in the feel of his hardness. Releasing his lips, she nibbled at the base of his neck and heard him moan softly. The sound of his need for her drove her to near desperation.

Yet even as she felt herself being swept away,
one small part of herself stood aside and watched, struggling to store each fleeting moment of bliss in her memory for after it was over, saving it for that time, so impossible to imagine now, when her memories would be all she’d have to console herself with, after he was gone.

Edward’s mind reeled. The woman beneath him wanted him as no woman had ever wanted him. His demure Eliza! What was going on?

He tried to get control of himself. Despite the way she was arousing him, she was still a virgin, and nothing about her newfound passion suggested otherwise. He struggled to keep his control as her lips nibbled at the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. He must not overwhelm her. But when her small, even teeth nipped at the tender flesh there, sending a shock throughout his body, he knew it was not she who was in danger of being overwhelmed. Her hands raked through the mat of hair on his chest. Her scent enveloped him. He’d never smelled anything as enticing as her spicy clean skin and the fainter, maddening musk of her desire for him. Her hands drifted downward below his navel, exploring the sensitive skin above his pubic hair with fingertips that seemed to know exactly what he needed at the exact moment he felt his need. He moaned at the pleasure her dancing touch evoked, until she silenced him with her lips, kissing him hungrily, pulling his tongue into her warm, moist, hungry mouth, and driving him almost to the brink.

But two could play this game. Taking control again, he let his hand drift over her taut belly. Her breathing quickened. He thrilled at the tiny shivers that went through her at his touch. He brushed against the auburn curls that awaited him below. Feeling her startle, he paused, then circled her navel playfully yet tenderly, until she relaxed again. He glanced up at her face and saw the blissful way her ginger lashes fluttered as her eyes drifted closed. He kissed her gently on her lightly parted lips. No woman had ever been so beautiful.

He let his fingers drift back to her sumptuous mound and found her silky curls. He teased them until he felt her rise to meet him. Gently his probing hand explored the open, welcoming cleft he found awaiting him below. He heard her breathing grow harsh as he kneaded the tight ridge of her excitement, rolling its slickness between his two fingers.

She arched against him and cried out. The pressure in his manhood grew as her wetness gushed forth in response to his determined probing. He longed to kiss her there and learn the taste of her, but held back not wishing to frighten her. Only when he felt her full and swollen beneath his hand, did he part her legs and kneel between them. Gently, oh so gently, he placed himself against her opening, sliding against the wetness there. He gave her time to adjust then gently increased the pressure until the tip of his manhood entered her. He felt her stretch and stopped. He
must not hurt her. But her face still held that look of bliss. She widened her legs and the movement almost brought him to the edge. He froze, waited a moment, then pressed harder against the slippery membrane until her sharp intake of breath made him stop again. He pulled back, delaying for one last instant whatever it was that would happen when she changed from maid to woman. But just at that moment her arms tightened around his back. She pulled him closer, forced him deep within her and he slid home. At last, she was his.

He paused, luxuriating in the slickness of her. He hoped he had not hurt her.

“I’m all right,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Don’t stop. I couldn’t bear it.”

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t have stopped now, even if he’d wanted to. He embraced her and whispered her name as he plunged into her silky depths. He felt her tighten around him as her desire grew. At each thrust, her hips arched to meet him. Her breath quickened with his. Her moans of pleasure echoed his own. Their breathing rose together. Yes, she was his, but he was hers, too. Entirely hers, lost in the wonder of her. Then she shuddered, and he felt her convulsing around him. She gave one last gasp of pleasure, and he exploded in ecstasy inside her.

When it was over, he was afraid to look at her. He had never bedded a virgin. He had never bedded a friend. He had just done both and he wasn’t sure if he could bear the aftermath. If she
were to cry, if she were to berate him for seducing her, he didn’t know how he would face it.

He would marry her, of course, and perhaps this was the time to make her his offer when they were both still overwhelmed with the passion they had just shared. But something held him back. Her words describing the horror of being tied to a rake came back to him, more devastating now that it was too late for him to heed them. Would she hate him because he’d maneuvered things so she would be tied to him whether she wanted it or not?

He felt a hollow feeling well up. Perhaps she would never forgive him what he’d just done to her. No, this was not the time to bring up marriage. He was still too full of happiness from what he’d just shared with her to risk it. Better to wait a little longer before letting her learn how grievously he had manipulated her. He couldn’t bear to destroy the delicate joy that had blossomed in his heart when they had made love.

It was Eliza who was the first to speak. “It was my fault,” she said gently. “I broke my promise to you.”

A wave of compassion swept over him. That she should blame herself, when she had only been responding as he had known she would to his well-honed skills of seduction! But it would be easier on both of them and bode better for their future, if he let her believe it had been she who had made the decision that had ended her independence.

“How could I be angry?” he reassured her. “No,
I am moved more deeply than I can express that you have chosen to honor me this way.”

Eliza laughed. “Honor seems a very strange word to apply to our situation.” When he made no reply she continued. “Is it always like this, when making love? Or did it seem that way to me because I waited so long before experiencing it.”

What way? Edward felt a stab of uncertainty. Had he hurt her or given her pleasure? He lifted himself up on one elbow and gazed down into the depths of her sparkling green eyes to see if he could find any hint there of what she had experienced, but he could not. So he said only, “I cannot tell you without knowing what you felt.”

“There’s no way to describe it. Pleasure is such a weak word. It was so much more than pleasure. It felt for a while as if light was rising up inside me and then it seemed as if I became inestimably beautiful with every touch of yours.”

“You are beautiful,” he said softly.

“And then—I don’t know how to describe it—but all there was, was you, and you and me together. It felt so right to be doing what we were doing. It seemed a holy thing to me—” Eliza stopped, suddenly embarrassed at what she had just said. “I suppose it seemed that way to me only because I am not a woman of the world and have no experience of such things. Perhaps one gets used to it, and it is just another pleasure that one takes, like dining at a restaurant.”

“I think not,” Edward said with a laugh. “Unless you know of restaurants far superior to
any I’ve ever dined in. But no, it
was
a rare and precious thing we experienced.”

“Then it was that way for you, too?”

“It was.”

“Though you are a man of the world who has been with hundreds of women—”

“My reputation is far worse than I imagined,” he said, shutting off her words by laying a finger on her lips. “I’ve been with perhaps a dozen women in my life, not hundreds.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Eliza said. “It would be hard to be jealous of a hundred women.”

“You need be jealous of none of them. No one has ever moved me as you have, Eliza.” He spoke the truth.

But even as he spoke he felt the old familiar fear. He didn’t need to have been with a hundred women to know what she would say next. First she would tell him she loved him. Then she would beg him to tell her he loved her, too, and that he’d be faithful and never leave. He would have to make promises, not knowing if there was any way he could keep them, knowing that as much as he might treasure what they had shared he was still his father’s son, his brother’s brother.

Though he felt he would die if he could not make love to her again, he couldn’t trust himself to tell her he would always love her. He couldn’t trust himself to live up to such a terrifying claim. And as that fear rose up within him, he felt the joy that had filled him only moments before dissipate as he waited tensely for her to say the words he
knew must come next, the words that would echo through the memories of all the other nights he had spent with all those other women he had just told her meant nothing to him.