Seven Nights to Forever (33 page)

A little chuckle bubbled from her chest. “Yes, you have my thanks and a smile.” She threw her arms about him, burying her nose against the cravat covering his neck, taking a deep full breath of him. What had she ever done to deserve such a man as James? Then she pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “And you can have more, if you wish.”

“More?” His arms came around her, large hands palming her backside.

She wiggled, rubbing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest, suddenly eager to be with him once again. “Can the stack of paperwork on your desk do without you for an hour?”

He gave her derrière a firm squeeze. “It can do without me for the rest of the day.”

She let out a squeak of surprise when he abruptly got to his feet, taking her with him. His muscles bunched and flexed beneath his coat as he effortlessly shifted her, cradling her in his arms.

“When I saw the necklace at the shop, my first thought was of you wearing it and nothing else.”

“Really?” She arched a brow. “Well, perhaps I can accommodate that request.”

They could have passed both Mr. and Mrs. Webb in the corridor for all she noticed. She only had eyes for James. When they reached his bedchamber, he carefully set her on her feet beside the bed. The navy drapes were drawn back, allowing the rich, warm late-morning sunlight to flood the room.

Rather than tumble her onto the bed, he whispered, “Turn around.”

She heeded his request. Quickened breaths fanned her nape as he unbuttoned her day dress. His fingers didn’t move with confident ease down her back, rather he fumbled a bit, taking care with each small button. Clearly he wasn’t accustomed to such a task and the knowledge warmed her heart.

Soon the cashmere dress was pooled around her feet. Then she felt him slip the pins from her hair. One by one, drawing each free until the length tumbled down her back. She heard a
swoosh
of fabric, and caught a flash of bottle green wool from the corner of her eye as he tossed his coat toward the chair. Turning, she made to unlace her stays but stopped when he raised a hand to stay her.

“May I?” he asked, with a shade of hesitation.

“Of course, James.” She dropped her arms to her sides, offering herself to him.

He stepped so close the hem of her ivory chemise brushed his brown trousers. Lashes at half-mast, he slowly reached up toward her chest. His lips tipped up at the edges as he traced the ruby. “I’m glad you like it.” The low words rumbled around her.

“I adore it because it’s from you.” She had received countless baubles over the years and promptly sold them all. Not a one held a bit of significance beyond their monetary value. This one, though, she would keep with her always, never to be parted with; his love worth more than any price.

His fingertip drifted down from the ruby, between the valley of her breasts to pull on one end of the narrow silk ribbon on her stays. The neat bow released. The tension around her ribs immediately eased. A deep full breath caused the laces to further loosen. A few quick tugs would finish the task, but instead he lingered. Pulling the ribbon through each eyelet, slowly unlacing her until with a barely audible wisp of sound, he pulled the ribbon free and let it flutter to the floor.

A push of the straps and her chemise and stays slipped off her shoulders, down her arms, falling to join the muted green cashmere.

He had never undressed her like this before. With the greatest of care, as if the act itself gave him as much pleasure as the result. He made her feel worshiped. Loved.

He dropped to his knees. Pressed a light kiss to her lower belly as his hands coasted from her waist down to her thighs. Intent on his task, he released the ribbons holding up her stockings. Both hands clasped around her leg, he gently coaxed the silk down one leg and then the other.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Yet she felt the heat of his gaze as it roamed her bare body, leaving a flush of warmth in its wake. Then he looked up from his prone position. His heavily lidded eyes, burning with sexual promise, caused a bolt of anticipation to shoot through her, making her knees weak and her breath hitch in her chest. Large, callused hands swept up to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. His touch no longer delicate and reverent but confident and sure. He brought one leg up to rest on his shoulder, the silk of his cream waistcoat slick beneath her calf.

Blindly reaching behind with one hand, she found the low footboard, gripped it tight. Using his thumbs, he parted her, baring her completely. Her head tilted back, eyes drifted shut, as his mouth descended onto her.

And she lost herself to everything but the pleasures of his tongue, his lips, his breath on her most intimate flesh. She threaded her fingers into his hair. Had to stop herself from gripping too tightly as he sucked hard then eased back to lap at her core. Low moans tumbled past her lips. He knew her body so well. Knew every fold, knew the most sensitive places. Knew how to ply her senses, to gather the climax, hold it right below the surface, allowing it to gather. To build. To coil tightly within.

Until it crashed over her. Her high-pitched cry echoed in her ears, mixed with the sharp pants of her breaths. His hands slid around to cup her backside, steadying her lest she crumple to her knees. Standing, he brought her with him, lifting her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

He laid her gently onto the navy coverlet. His gaze didn’t once leave her as he attacked the buttons on his waistcoat. The sunlight from the window behind him kissed the outline of his powerful body, his features slightly shrouded in shadows. Within a trice, his cravat, shirt, and trousers were on the floor.

The mattress shifted as he crawled onto the bed to lie on his side next to her. “Love you,” he murmured, as he touched the heart resting over her own.

Then his hand drifted lower, fingers splaying. Gooseflesh rose across her skin, her breath catching. Cupping the back of his neck, she tugged, needing his kiss, needing the solid weight of his body to cover hers, needing him.

And the moment before his lips touched hers, she whispered, “Love you, forever.”

THE
afternoon sun streamed through the windows, providing a blanket of warmth he was most thankful for. Lighting the fire had been the last thing on his mind when he’d brought Rose up to his bedchamber. Nor would the Webbs have seen to it, as they had not expected him to have need of the room at such an hour. A day as fine as this one should be spent out of doors. He had even mentioned a walk to Mrs. Webb when the housekeeper had delivered coffee to his study earlier that morning.

Perhaps later, once Rose awakened, they could take a stroll about the grounds. For now, he was content to remain exactly where he was.

James brushed aside the dark length of her hair covering her back and traced the gold chain draping the delicate line of her neck. Rose was half sprawled over him, her cheek pressed to his chest. She had fallen asleep a good hour ago, but he hadn’t followed her into a restful slumber.

How was he to part with her on the morrow? The answer was simple. He couldn’t. Couldn’t possibly live without this, without her. He couldn’t comprehend how he had managed for so long, the loneliness so all consuming. Day after endless day had numbed its effects. Numbed him. Now, though, after being with Rose . . .

But it left him caught between his obligations and his heart. Between the situation he had willingly placed himself in and what he needed most of all. He couldn’t jeopardize Rebecca’s future, yet he did not want to deposit Rose at that house. Couldn’t fathom watching her walk through that back door and away from him. It went beyond petty jealousy, beyond his own selfish needs and desires. He knew she did not want to be there. Nor should she ever need to subject herself to that place again.

The problem tumbled about his mind as the direct rays of the sun began to ease back, creeping out of the room as the afternoon wore on.

Then he smiled.

The solution so simple he wanted to smack himself for not landing upon it sooner. And here he considered himself an astute businessman. But sometimes the obvious was the most difficult answer to find.

Gathering her close, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Of course, he still needed to gain her assent but a quick mental check turned up no cause at all for a refusal. If all went well tomorrow, then her trunk would remain satisfyingly empty.

She stirred, shifting up to peer at him with drowsy eyes, the ruby heart dangling from her neck.

“Good afternoon. Did you have a pleasant rest?” he asked.

“Very pleasant, thank you.”

Stretching, she arched her back. Bare skin slid against bare skin, tempting him anew. But there was no need at all to rush toward indulgence. They had many more days ahead of them.

“The sun’s still out. Would you care to take a stroll about the grounds?”

She let out a little lazy purr of pleasure. “That would be lovely.”

A sharp
rap on the door roused Rose from sleep. Before she and James had retired last night, Rose had asked the housekeeper to wake them at dawn. The journey to London would take a full day. Therefore, a departure well before noon was required for a chance to arrive before midnight.

She kept her eyes closed tight as the ball of resistance welled up inside. But she fought it down. There was nothing to be done but accept it. She would leave James today. Bemoaning her fate would do nothing to change that fact. The best she could do was to continue to cherish their remaining time together.

Pushing up onto her elbows, she pressed a kiss to his lips. The next thing she knew she was being flipped onto her back. Crouched above her, James deepened the kiss. His hot tongue slipped into her mouth, stroking hers. A rumbling growl shook his chest. After a little nip to her bottom lip, he pulled back.

His hair stuck up at odd angles, his jaw darkened with a morning beard. The lingering haze of sleep softening his olive green eyes was beginning to give way to deep, heated desire. James in the morning. She soaked up the image, committing it to memory, determined never to forget it.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile.

How could he be so happy? Their holiday was ending. “Good morning to you as well.”

That smile turned wicked the instant before he dropped down again. Instinctively, she arched, tipping up her chin, giving him access to nuzzle her neck. Those soft lips drifted down, over the hollow of her throat. Sensation rippled through her, a potent temptation. Yet she resisted.

“James.” She pushed on his rock-hard shoulders. “I need to pack.”

“Why?” Playful and light, the word vibrated across her chest.

Must he make her say it out loud? “We need to return to London.”

Still crouched over her, he pushed up onto straight arms. “
We
don’t need to leave today. I must—the Season’s to start tomorrow. But you don’t need to leave.” His gaze turned serious. “Stay.”

She opened her mouth then shut it. Was he asking her to . . . No, he couldn’t be asking that. But the tension seeping into her stomach whispered the former. “James, I don’t understand.”

“This house would be yours. I’ll give you access to my accounts. You could use the money as you see fit. Replace everything your father gambled away, fund your brother’s jaunts about town. It matters not to me what you do with it. I’ll hire an estate manager so you needn’t worry about keeping up the country house. You’ll want for nothing, Rose, and you’ll never need to return to Rubicon’s again.”

“You’re asking me to be your mistress.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

He nodded. “Yes, that’s what I’m asking. Will you stay with me?”

She briefly closed her eyes, fought to keep the wince from showing itself, and then pushed on his shoulders again. “James, please let me up.”

As soon as he shifted aside, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Where had James thrown her wrapper last night? She looked to the wingback chair by the dresser, but it only held his coat and waistcoat, the haphazardly discarded garments barely clinging to one arm. “You want me to stay, but you are leaving today?”

“I want nothing more than to stay here with you, but I must return to London. As I’ve said, the Season starts tomorrow. Rebecca needs an escort for her coming-out.”

Her gaze skipped about the room. Perhaps the foot of the bed. “And you must escort your wife as well.”

A pause. “Yes.” As she leaned down to grab the wrapper she heard the ropes under the mattress creak. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’s not as if I intend to be gone for weeks at a time. I want to be here with you, not there.”

“You have business interests in Town, James. You need to be there to tend to them,” she countered as she slipped her arms into the silk sleeves, quite proud of how calm she was remaining. He was acting on impulse, without thought to the consequences. Once he realized that fact, this conversation would end and she would not have to actually voice a refusal.