Pleasuring the Lady (The Pleasure Wars) (13 page)

Blood flooded her cheeks and he smiled again, flashing straight white teeth she had felt scrape along her—

“No one but us knows what we did in that room,” Miles drawled. “Consider it the first of many sinful secrets we shall share.”

Many sinful secrets. Portia shivered.

“Now come along, Lady Weatherfield,” Miles continued. “Your guests are waiting.”

“So you are wed.”

Portia turned away from the sidebar lined with wine and smiled as Ava wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into her friend and for a moment she was allowed to be herself. To be
real
.

“I am, it seems,” she said with a shake of her head. “Good Lord.”

Ava poured them each a glass of wine. “Are you well?”

“I am as well as can be expected under the circumstances.” Portia laughed to soften the words. “Do not misunderstand me, I am not complaining. This entire fiasco is my own fault and I could do far worse than Miles, who has been nothing but kind to me.”

Ava’s face relaxed a touch. “I’m glad to hear it. You certainly look lovely.”

Portia looked down at herself. It had been so long since she had such a pretty frock that she found herself secretly fingering the silken folds when she hoped no one was looking.

“His sister’s lady’s maid arrived at my home and helped me and my mother ready ourselves,” Portia explained. “And the gown is one of several her seamstress made with some kind of magic, considering how lovely they are and how quickly they were sewn. Apparently there are to be a dozen more coming in the next month or so. All arranged for and paid for by
him
, of course.”

She glanced at Miles. He was talking to his sister and her husband. His face was utterly neutral, she couldn’t tell what he thought or felt. Nor had she been able to since the moment they joined the larger group. It was almost as if that searing kiss and that whispered promise of passion in the parlor had never happened.

Would she ever solve the puzzle of her…
husband
?
 

“Why should he not shower you with pretty things meant to make you light up?” Ava said with a smile. “You are his wife now.”

“Plenty of men do not do so. Especially to wives they did not choose.” Portia sighed.
 

Ava’s eyebrows lifted. “I can understand your hesitation, but you must expect the best. He’s taking care of your mother. Did he do that because of my suggestion that you…” She leaned closer. “Offer yourself in exchange?”

Portia hesitated. This was hardly a subject to broach in the middle of a parlor, not an hour after her marriage. But she so desperately wanted to talk to Ava about it.

She turned into her friend to block the rest of the room from what they were saying. “I did. And he accepted those terms.”

“Excellent.” Ava clasped her hands together with a wicked smile.

Portia shook her head in confusion. “
Excellent
? How is this anything close to that?”

“You underestimate the power of passion,” her friend murmured with a quick, heated glance toward her own husband, across the room kindly entertaining Portia’s mother and Potts.

“That may be because I have no idea what to do!” Portia said with a sigh. “Miles implies a large array of passions, shocking and powerful. Already he has, er,
done
things
to me.”

“Well, that is how you two ended up here,” her friend laughed, her attention still on Christian.

Portia shook her head. “Not that.”

Ava’s eyes went wide and suddenly she was staring at Portia. “Since you two were compromised at the masquerade?”

Portia swallowed, her hands shaking as she thought of the pleasurable moments she and Miles had shared in the carriage and even in this very room. Her body thrummed with desire just recalling them.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And has he…” Ava dropped her voice. “Taken you?”

Blood rushed to Portia’s cheeks, making them almost unbearably hot. “Not taken me, but…
other
pleasures.”

The corners of Ava’s lips lifted slightly. “That is very encouraging.”

“Encouraging?” Portia repeated, forcing her voice to stay low even though she wanted to shake her friend in frustration. “How so? As I have already said, I have no idea how to keep his attention or fulfill his no-doubt high expectations.”

Ava smiled. “You will learn quickly enough, I will tell you that. When a man desires you and you desire him in return, what to do becomes very, very natural, very quickly.”

“I have a hard time believing you.” Portia shivered. Nothing she and Miles did felt natural. Uncommonly pleasureable, yes. Natural, no. “Can’t you give me advice beyond ‘do what comes naturally’?”

Ava touched her arm. “I can certainly give you advice,” she whispered. “As delicately as I can in this environment. But are you certain you wish to hear what I have to say?”

Portia took a deep breath. This was her only chance before her wedding night to have a talk with someone who understood. In the public of a parlor or not, she couldn’t turn that down.
 

“Yes,” she said, leaning closer with nervousness and excitement mobbing her. “Tell me everything you can before we are interrupted.”

Miles kept a tight, false smile on his face, but it was a difficult proposition as he mingled with the few guests from his wedding and a few more who had been invited to the wedding breakfast after the ceremony ended. Talking to them, accepting their felicitations, seeing their knowing smiles behind their fans was almost unbearable.

If someone had told him a fortnight ago that he would be wed after a scandal, he would have laughed in their face.

And yet here he was.

“Weatherfield!”

He turned, and his smile wavered as Portia’s brother approached. Cosslow had a huge grin on his face and a drink in his hand. He was wobbling ever so slightly, a result of draining Miles’ bar since the moment the wedding ceremony had come to a close.
 

How in the world had he ever called this bastard a friend?

“Cosslow,” Miles said with a slight nod as acknowledgment.

“It all went off without a hitch.” Cosslow hiccupped. “I must say I feared you might go running off, damn the consequences. Not that anyone would blame you.”

Miles flinched at the cruelty of both his new brother-in-law’s words and his tone.

“I had no intention of doing that to your sister,” he said. “I’m a man of my word.”

“Yes, so it appears.” Hammond shrugged.
 

The two of them looked across the room at Portia. She stood with Lady Rothcastle and the two of them had their heads close together, talking with far more intensity than Miles would have expected at a wedding celebration.

“Ava has certainly changed for the better with
her
marriage,” Hammond mused with a guttural grunt of appreciation. “Who knew?”

Miles pursed his lips in disgust. “They have been friends a long time, have they not?”

“She and Portia?” Hammond shrugged. “As long as I can recall. But then, the wallflowers always seem to stick together.”

Miles sighed. “Their friendship seems deeper than that.”

Cosslow looked at him almost as if he didn’t understand the statement.
 

“I suppose it is.” He swigged a drink. “Portia used to moon over Ava’s brother, though Windbury never showed her any more mind than any other man did.”

Miles tensed. Once again, there was a stark reminder that Portia apparently cared for another man. She had all but admitted it the first night they met at the masquerade. And she had been seeking another man the second night before they fell into each other’s arms.
 

His stomach turned. Was that what the two friends were talking about so closely?
Liam
?

A sudden, mind-numbing possessiveness passed through him, overtook him. This was his wife.
His
. And he would by God claim her in some way right now if only to take thoughts of another man from her mind.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, barely acknowledging Cosslow as he set his drink down on the closest table and strode across the parlor toward Portia and Ava. Portia’s back was to him, but Ava saw him before he reached the two. Her eyes went wide, and he realized she recognized his intent.

She shook Portia’s arm just as he reached them. Portia turned toward him and that possessive need to claim her was multiplied as she stared up at him, brown eyes wide, lips parted. In a pretty gown with her hair done properly, she looked more beautiful than ever. And he wanted her so much that his groin ached and he could only hope that desire wasn’t too obvious to the entire room.

“I would like to talk to you,” he managed to growl out through clenched teeth.
 

Her brow wrinkled. “Miles—” she began.

He caught her elbow. “Now. In private,” he said, tossing Ava a glare. “Lady Rothcastle, do excuse us.”

Ava shook her head, a wry smile on her face. “Oh, of course, my lord.”

He ignored her knowing tone and guided Ava from the parlor and down the hall to his office. He hauled her inside and slammed the door, locking it behind himself with suddenly shaking hands.

He smoothed his jacket before he turned to look at her. She was standing in the middle of his office, staring at him as if he had sprouted a second head.
 

“Miles,” she whispered, and he groaned. Every time she said his damn name it made his desire deepen. “What have I done to displease you?”

He shut his eyes. There were so many answers to that question. Thinking about another man displeased him. Remaining uncertain of her innocence displeased him. Her not being naked and under him displeased him.
 

“Miles?” she repeated, daring to come a step closer as she searched his face with questioning brown eyes.
 

He reached for her, catching her hand and hauling her against him in one smooth motion. She gasped as their bodies collided, but the sound was lost as his mouth crushed hers. His control was lost seconds later, and he maneuvered her to perch on the edge of his desk.

He pulled away, his face inches from hers, and held her stare.

“You are mine, Portia. Do you understand that?”

She swallowed hard and then nodded slowly.

“Whatever happened before,” he continued as he unlaced her dress along the back. “You are mine now. And I’m going to prove it to you here and now.”

Chapter Ten

Portia could hardly breathe as Miles stripped her pretty gown away. She expected him to toss it aside in his hurry, but instead he placed it gently across the back of a chair before he turned back to her.

His gaze was dark and hooded, but even she, innocent as she remained, could not deny the heavy, heated desire there. He wanted her. But would he truly claim her as his wife in his office with their wedding guests not ten feet away?

She didn’t know whether to be fearful of that idea or utterly titillated by it.

He looked her up and down, and suddenly he smiled.

“You listened,” he murmured as he stepped forward, parting her legs to stand between them as she perched precariously on his desk.

“Listened?” she panted, hardly able to think.

He reached between them and placed the flat of his palm on her wet and tingling sex. “You aren’t wearing drawers.”

She swallowed as the heel of his palm ground into her and stole her ability to form coherent sentences. “Yes…” she gasped, struggling. “I…did as you…asked me.”

The last word trailed out on a moan as pleasure mobbed her.

“Great God, you are responsive,” he muttered, almost more to himself than to her.
 

“Only because you make me so,” she panted, dipping her head over her shoulders as her breath caught again and again.
 

How could he do this to her with just his touch? How could he make her shake and beg and moan like a wanton? Her legs shook and her nipples hardened, scraping against the soft, silky fabric of her new chemise. She felt utterly aware of not only her own breath, her own body, but of his. She wanted to feel him against her.
 

Ava had told her, in their brief but heated conversation, that all she had to do was ask for what she desired.
 

She drew back and stared up at him. He met her gaze and her stomach clenched as need ratcheted up.
 

“Please, please,” she began, blushing as she grasped for his waist and pulled him closer. “I want…I want—”

“What do you want?” he asked, voice low and rough. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” she admitted finally. “Just you to touch me. I want to feel what you do to me.”

His eyes widened, but then his mouth turned up in a possessive grin.
 

“Oh, you will,” he promised as he pulled her hips closer and wrapped her legs behind his back.