Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3) (19 page)

She slipped into a deep sleep.

She awoke, feeling Adrian’s body now rigid against
hers. She murmured his name.

“I swear to you, before we leave England, I will call
Heathford out. He will pay for this. By God, he will pay.”

That brought her fully awake.

“Adrian! How can you possibly contemplate such a
thing?” She hugged him, fiercely. “I won’t let you do such a thing. I won’t.”

“It is a matter of honor, my love.”

“And needless. My honor was lost long ago.”

“How can you say that?”

“I come from Winterton’s seed, he is corruption
itself. Cassandra is corrupted. How could I imagine that I would escape being
corrupted myself?”

“Hush, love, you are evil. You merely committed a
lapse in good judgment and in retrospect. I am forced to admit that I acted
like a prig upon your confession.” He caressed her hair. “Miranda, I have to
tell you something.”

“Yes,” she said, a hard, cold lump forming in her
belly at the thought that he might actually call Heathford out.

Stupid, foolish girl, why did you tell him all of
that about Heathford!

But she’d been unable to hold back from telling him.
She needed to be close to him, to share all her pain and confusion and to have
him solace her.

But had she been selfish in that need?

“I have to make a confession of my own,” he said. “I
found and find the idea of you watching them do that, terribly arousing.”

“Do you?” she said, at first his meaning barely
registering past her disquiet and self-recrimination. Then warmth began to
pulse through her. She smiled against his chest.

He grasped her shoulders and pulled her up so that
she was looking into his eyes. Her legs had begun to ache and tingle from the
awkward position but she ignored it, smiling back at him. “But you said that I
had done that for nothing. That you have no interest in experiencing that act
with any woman.”

He gave her a quick, hard kiss. He shifted her weight
off himself and stood and then he lifted her into his arms.

“Oh, you should not strain yourself.” She clutched
his body, frantic with concern. “Your injury.”

“You weigh less than a feather. It shan’t hurt me,
love.”

“You outrageous charmer,” she said, trying to make
her tone light. She buried her face to his shoulder to hide the quick tears
that sprang all over again at the thought of his injury.

He carried her to bedchamber. She could feel the
difference in his body, how he had to shift her weight, how he trembled
slightly.

How long until he regained his former strength?

But she would not prick at his male pride by
insisting that he put her down. There had been enough injury done his pride
today at having been saved from the hangman’s noose by his wife showing her
petticoats to his peers.

He sat her on her feet, gave her a brief kiss then
moved away and shed his clothing. He went to lie on the bed.

She stood there in her nightdress and wrapper,
uncertain at his sudden change in mood.

He held out a hand. “Come, love.”

She made to remove her night attire.

“Why don’t you leave the nightdress on,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because it may make you feel a measure of
self-protection.”

She approached the bed slowly, uncertain as to what
he meant for them to do. “Adrian”

“Come here.”

She sat beside him.

He gently tugged on her hand. “Curl here beside me.
Lay your head on my stomach.”

At the image his words provoked, apprehension tingled
through her.

“You don’t have to kneel for me,” he said.

She curled beside him and laid her head on his
stomach, as he had bid. She stared up at him. “What should I do now?”

“You should turn the other direction,” he said, with
amusement in his voice.

“Oh,” she said, turning and feeling a little foolish.
She was supposed to be a sophisticated seductress. She should have known. But
the day had left her drained and the discord between herself and Adrian had
left her confused.

Lost.

His erection appeared far more intimidating from so
close. She closed her eyes.

He took her hand and wrapped it firmly about himself.

She was trembling but oddly just on the inside. It
was a strange sensation. “I don’t understand, Adrian.”

“Yes, you do.”

A mix of apprehension and elation made her feel
lightheaded. Like her stomach would float away. The first twinges of anything
approaching arousal tingled through her loins for the first time since their
discord had started. Since she had confessed to having watched Rebecca and
Drake.

“Show me what Rebecca did to Drake. Show me those
things you found so beautiful.”

“But I thought you didn’t want to experience this
act, with any woman, not even me.”

He wrapped his hand over hers and moved it up and
down. “This is important to you? It would mean a lot to you if you were able to
overcome your distaste for this?”

“Yes, it would mean the world. It would be a victory
over Winterton and…” she stopped herself from mentioning Heathford. “It would
mean so much. It would mean all the more because it was something we could
share together.”

“Then it means something to me too, my love.”

“But I understand how you must have felt, I mean
forced to feel sexually for Cassandra. I felt some of that sense of being
forced to it, to my shame, even with Carrville. It is not pleasant.”

“Yes, Miranda, what happened with Cassandra, the one
time, made me feel shame. It gave me a distaste to ever allow a woman to have
so much control over me in a bedchamber ever again. But I will not allow that
distaste to keep me from sharing something intimate and beautiful with you.”

“I have never done this with anyone else. It is a
virginity of sorts, is it not?”

“Yes, love, it absolutely is.” She could hear the
smile in his voice.

He released his hold on her hand. “Do what you will,
my darling.”

She stroked him. His thick, hard length throbbed
within her grasp. Her sense of elation increased and effervesced out in a
laugh. Wet warmth cascaded over her closed fist and she opened her eyes.

He was leaking all over her. Seeing his obvious
excitement made her bolder. She leaned forwards and put her lips to his crown.
At first, the feel of the hot liquid made her startle.

He caressed her hair. “Miranda.”

She spread her lips, experiencing the creamy texture.
She opened her mouth and let her tongue glide over him, learning the salty
taste of his seed. He leaked all the more profusely and throbbed against her
tongue.

He groaned, his caress on her hair becoming heavier.

His cock seemed to grow even bigger.

She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips about the crown
and encompassed it completely. His smooth flesh against her tongue was the most
sensual thing she’d ever known and she took him deeper into her mouth. Slowly,
so slowly. Partly because she was a little bit apprehensive about doing it
correctly. She was afraid of nicking him with her teeth. But she also wanted to
drag out the pleasures of this moment. These precious moments of discovery
shared just between the two of them.

He threaded his fingers into her hair, gripping her
head with both of his hands now.

She moved her mouth back and forth upon him.

She shook with the mounting excitement within her as
he throbbed and leaked. These signs of his obvious pleasure were a priceless
gift to her.

“God,” he said, tersely. He began to shake. “Oh God,
Miranda.” His grip on her hair tightened, he arched his hips. His cock quaked
against her tongue. At the first jet of hot come, she gasped, deep in her
throat. It was followed rapidly by another one. A moment of panic seized her.

Then she realized that she need only swallow.

She did, swallowing and swallowing as he delivered
jet after jet of hot come into her mouth. She laid her head upon his stomach,
all her senses spinning.

She done it.

Oh heavens, she’d actually done it.

Just as before, the day he’d first come home to her,
his panting breaths took a while to subside.

Then he partially sat and touched her, urging her up
level with him. He cupped her face and kissed her, so deeply, so thoroughly
that it sucked all her breath away.

“My God, Miranda, that was…” He smiled at her. “There
are no words.”

They lay back on the pillows and he pulled the
coverlet over their nakedness. She nestled her head into crook of arm. Sleep
claimed her almost immediately.

****

“Papa! Papa you’re home.” The delighted squeal tore
Miranda from the warm and dark comforts of deepest slumber.

She started and then realized, to her great relief
that the coverlet was pulled to their chins, concealing their nakedness.

“Damn, I forgot to lock that door,” Adrian muttered
under his breath.

Davey stood beside the bed, beaming his smile at
them.

“Good morning, Davey.” Adrian’s voice was
half-amused, half-vexed.

“Good morning, Papa. Can we go riding today?”

Miranda couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, of course we can, but Davey…”

“Yes, Papa?”

“You’ve become quite the grown boy in the past year,
have you not?”

“Yes, I’ve grown inches and inches. Haven’t I Mama?”

“Yes, you have,” she said, hearing the humor in her
voice.

“Well, then I’d say you’re too old now to come
bursting into our bedchamber without knocking.”

“Oh.” Davey replied.

Adrian made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Out
with you. Go wait for us at the breakfast table.”

“Yes, Papa,” Davey said and then turned and ran from
the chamber, letting the door slam loudly behind him.

Miranda looked at Adrian, took in his exasperated
face and laughed, letting her head fall back to the pillow.

“That boy needs discipline.”

“I did the best I could in the absence of his
father.”

“You taught him to bake biscuits and to paint.”

She lifted her arms and raised her hands, palms up in
a helpless gesture. “I did the best I could. I don’t know how little boys ought
to be brought up.” She paused then grinned. “He shows much talent.”

“If he becomes an itinerant painter of portraits, I
shall hold you to blame.”

She grew serious. “Adrian, will you take this job
that Ruel offers?”

“The Canadian factory?”

“Yes, he told me that he wants you to manage it.”

“What do I know of managing a wool factory?” He lay
back on his pillow, his arms braced behind his head. He frowned. “I don’t know,
Miranda. We will need to pick a place to live and we shall need the means to
live on. I did earn a good amount from this last job but I mean to put it aside
for Davey. He will not have a title. He will need help to establish himself and
to contract a good marriage.”

“Ruel told me all about that factory. How well
situated it is and the fantastic bargain it is. A property like that won’t stay
on the market for long.”

“Miranda, it is damn cold there.”

“I know. But I am not afraid of hardships. Surely you
aren’t either.”

“No, but I would hate to force you to locate there.
We could go to Jamaica. Or even America. Sexton assures me that the changes of
ever being connected with Winterton’s death are not great there. The servant
was more intent on seeing justice served in England. He did not report me to
the Louisiana authorities. Even if I were ever to be connected, Sexton says it
is unlikely I should actually be prosecuted anywhere outside of Louisiana. It
is the way their states look at things.”

“The idea of living in the United States is tempting
but Adrian, think of it. This Canadian factory is an incredible bargain. It
would be a chance to make a fabulous profit on an initial investment.” She
chewed her lip for a moment. “What if you— if we could buy that factory for
ourselves? What if we were the owners and we managed it ourselves. We could
experiment with different methods. We could create a more humane situation for
our employees than at most factories. We could lessen some of the corruption in
this world. Together.”

“Miranda, if I put my earnings away for Davey, we
simply won’t have the funds to purchase that factory.”

“Yes, we could.” In her excitement, she leaned over
him, part way. “I am a wealthy woman now.”

He took her hand, frowning. “What?”

“Cassandra told me that she lied. She had never spent
all my money, it is still in trust. It has been drawing interest all these
years. She allowed a banker friend to manage the investments. It is a small
fortune. We need only spend a small portion of it to purchase the factory. The
rest we can put away for our daughters.”

“But is Cassandra really going to allow you to just
take it?”

“Yes.” Miranda drew her brows together. “She’s dying
Adrian. She wants my forgiveness.”

“My God.” He looked at her so seriously. “I never
dreamed that we could find ourselves in this position.”

“Well, we’d better snap this factory up before Ruel
finds another man to manage it and buys it himself.”

“Yes.” A grin broke over Adrian’s face. “Yes, my
love, today. This very day.”

She compressed her lips.

“What?” he asked.

“I had expected more of a fight from you over it.”

“Why?”

“Because of your damnable arrogance and male pride.”

He took her hand, drew it to his mouth and kissed it.
“I have learned to accept the sacrifices of my lady with gratitude.”

“When?”

“When do you think?” He grinned, again, broader this
time. “Last night.”

“Did you indeed?”

“Yes, I did.” Still holding her by the hand, he
pulled her up and over his body, helping her to settle her weight comfortably.