Suzi Love (13 page)

Holding a title and wealth spoilt them, made them think the world was theirs for the taking. If he’d remained in London, who knows, he may have become one of them himself. Shallow and self-obsessed. Although, he’d like to think he had more integrity, more moral fibre than those whose greed knew no bounds.

“How is it you and your sisters are so well acquainted with so many gentlemen when you’ve been avoiding society?”

She shrugged. “Many of my friends joined me when I started the society. I don’t discriminate. I show women of all classes how to manage their banking, to understand investments. We share luncheons, teas, and they have male relatives that we often meet.” She gave a little laugh. “Several of those men even consult with me before they spend money. Mind you, they’d never admit such a lowering idea among their associates.”

“What hold do you have over Lindley?”

Her reply was deliberately vague. “My family hears things.”

“How do you hear these things?”

She shrugged. “Laura listens. Lottie flatters. And I — ”

“You what?”

“I think, and analyse.”

Cayle’s frustration increased at her evasion, and her continuing refusal to confide in him. If she continued to flaunt her presence in public, under the noses of the very men who hated her and everything she stood for, he wasn’t sure what to do to protect her. “For once, you stubborn fool, could you give me a straight answer. What do you analyse?”

“I look at property. Investments. Inventions.”

Now he was incredulous. “These men let a woman advise them on inventions?”

“Well, no. Not precisely. More on whether the profits will be good if they invest money into the production of those inventions.”

“I thought that Michael made those decisions.” Frowning, he studied her closely. “Why do I always feel you’re keeping things from me?”

Flashing a mischievous smile, she reminded him of the amazing girl she’d been. His heart ached.

“Who me? Would I do that?”

Forced to laugh as she intended, he understood she was changing the subject. Again.

“You’re as slippery as an eel. But tonight was only a taste of things to come. You may have subdued Lindley and Boswood, but there were others there. There’ll be others everywhere we go, taunting one of us. Me for my past. You for your future. I’m releasing you from our agreement.”

“If you’ll recall, I didn’t want to seek out information for myself in the ton, which is precisely the reason I approached you. Yet, it became clear tonight that it’s beneficial for me to attend. To see and hear for myself. Before I make decisions, I take time to analyse all available information.”

With a smile, he watched her. Her eyes dilated with fire and passion as she talked with animation of mathematics and accounting and it was beyond him to resist. This tiny bluestocking made him feel more alive than he had in a long time.

“You give so much of yourself. To your family, to others. When do you take?” Trailing his fingers over her face, he watched her reaction. “When do you just let yourself feel, enjoy?”

As he pushed forward, she stepped backwards until she was trapped at the wall.

He’d sooner die than frighten her, but her breath hitched and he recognised it as arousal, not fright.

“Stop me, Becca.”

She shook her head and continued her bright eyed gazing at him, enthralled by the path of his fingers. Down her cheek to brush sideward across her lips and then slowly, tantalisingly back again. Her tongue poked out just enough to touch his finger, to moisten it. He jumped and jerked it back but his lower body pushed closer, pinning her to the wall.

“Hell, Becca. Stop me.”

Once again, she shook her head.

With an agonised groan, he shifted so his entire body melded hers, so every lush curve fitted like a soft glove to complement the hard muscled length of him. He ran his tongue over her lips until her mouth opened and his hunger took over.

This time, it was his lips brushing hers, softly, gently at first and then harder and faster.

Latching on to her pliant mouth, he feasted again and again until he felt her body tremble and her knees gave way. He pressed her harder against the wall. And still he couldn’t release her. The tide of need that swept him was unstoppable.

Desire had never felt so intense, so driving.

He wanted to devour her, to suck her up like a ripe peach.

Warm and pliant, she felt so right in his arms that his normally rigid control flew out the window and he drew her even closer against his aroused body.

“Becca, Becca.” He chanted her name as he kissed and nuzzled her face and then down her neck. One hand moved to where her swollen breast strained at the thin lace. “I need to see you. I need to look.” Again he hesitated, met her gaze and held it silently, and waited for permission.

• • •

Becca felt none of the same hesitation.

She smiled as she nodded to Cayle, willingly gifting him her consent.

“Touch me. Show me.”

The firelight reflected the emotions on his face as he engaged two thumbs to ease down the neckline of her gown. Awe, amazement, reverence. The power of it made her soar and fly. That she could do this to him. Create such craving and hunger. Make him cry out with wanting her.

Unable to tear her gaze away, Becca watched Cayle’s hands cup the breasts he’d bared to the air. He tested their size and weightiness by holding them in his palms and then he rubbed his thumbs over her puckered peaks. Eyes fixed with desire lifted to meet her gaze and his voice was husky and reverent.

“You’re so beautiful.” He jiggled her breasts a little. “These are incredible. Soft, and fuller than I remembered, pale yet lustrous. And you have tiny freckles sprinkled like fairy dust over their tops.”

The poetry of his words melted her, inside and out. Several men had paid homage to her beauty, although in comparison to Laura and Lottie her colouring interested rather than stunned. And of course, her family paid her compliments for her intellect and soft heart. Yet now, this man, this darkly handsome man who’d known many women, appeared enthralled by her curves. All of a sudden, she felt proud of her woman’s body. Proud that hers was so different to his that he sought to worship it. Despite her avid declarations that she didn’t need a man in her life, she did want one. This one. She wanted Cayle to worship her body.

His head dipped and surprise caught her as his sharp teeth gently nipped the tip of one nipple. Then a lathe of his raspy tongue soothed it. Combined sensations of pain and pleasure were almost unbearable. He sucked one erect nipple into the warmth of his mouth and she shook. He tweaked the other with his fingers and she panted. Between her legs, she felt a rush of fluid and a curious ache started there. She knew that only he could stop the yearning and ease the pain. She needed everything he could give her.

“More. More.”

“Sweetheart, you are astonishing.” A hand slipped lower to catch the hem of her gown and warm fingers trailed up her calf and over her knee, pulling up her satiny gown as he went, until her whole leg was exposed.

“If you had any idea what I want to do to you, you would be stopping me. Without hesitation.”

“You’re wrong. I do know.”

After a moment of surprise, he shook his head and laughed. “Madame Faberge again I suppose.”

“Yes. She told us that when a man, the right man, touches you between your legs, it feels like heaven. I want to know what heaven feels like.”

“Oh, little one. Heaven is touching any part of you.” Long fingers stroked softly over the outside of her undergarments. Close to the centre where she ached for it, yet not quite reaching the source of heat ignited in her body. “Heaven is here.”

One finger found the opening in her drawers and intruded slightly. She moved forward with an impatient wiggle until the tip of his finger nestled in the opening to her swollen passage. Not enough. Oh, not nearly enough.

The books had shown her where on her body it happened, but not the rush of sensation that had her shuddering in seconds as his hard tip rotated gently, back and forth. She felt hot and swollen, restless in her desperate need for relief. The plunge of his finger into the deeper recesses of her heat nearly caused her to swoon across the strong arm that still held her firmly to the papered wall.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just let yourself go.”

She grunted, and then said, “If I let myself go any more, I’ll be a puddle at your feet. Perhaps you’d better position me someplace else.”

“Are you giving me orders on how to seduce you?”

Bending his head to her chest, he started to laugh. “You’re probably analysing the situation, using your mathematical skills to calculate the best position for me to put you in.”

Realising that the rumblings and shaking coming from her chest were he and not she, she grabbed his hair and lifted his head to meet her at eye level.

“Oh, really. This is too much. Serious minded Cayle St. Martin finally lets himself go enough to laugh, really laugh, and it’s at my expense. When you have your … part of you … ”

His laughter quieted. “My finger moving, moving inside you.”

For another moment, he remained motionless inside her while the tight heat of her inner passage squeezed around his finger, clamping down. Her body followed every tiny motion his finger made. Followed it, tightened on it and enjoyed it. When he started to withdraw she clamped her thighs around his arm.

“I know there’s more. There must be more.”

Her breath came in ragged gaps as she watched him fight to regain control of himself. Straightening and pulling away, he dropped her skirt to the floor and pulled together her bodice. He stepped back, putting some distance between them.

Clutching his head in his hands, he let out a long low growl.

“I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I had no right.”

“Don’t you dare leave me like this.” The fiery side of her was imperially annoyed. “Finish it, Cayle.”

He shook his head. “It should never have happened. I’m not the man you need to introduce you to such things.”

Frustrated, disturbed, yearning for she knew not what, her body felt like an unextinguished fire. A fire that ignited her temper and made her want to flay him with his words.

“Oh, and once again you’ve decided what’s right for me. What I need. Who I need. Well, I disagree. If you,” she poked a finger in his chest, “aren’t able to relieve me of these feelings, I shall … I shall find another man. Yes, that’s it.”

She nodded in agreement with her own statement while he stared at her in bewilderment.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I do dare, and I will find another man. One not so high and mighty as the Duke of Sherwyn.”

“No, you will not. I’ll not stand for it.”

“You’ve no right to stop me. You just gave up the right.”

“You are the most irritating female I’ve ever known. And you’re speaking through clenched teeth. It amazes me how you manage that when I know how dearly you love to talk. To lecture me.”

She understood that he was deliberately trying to goad her. He wanted to fight with her, and to have an excuse to leave, but she refused to let him.

“And you,” she poked him again, “are trying to be a saint. And I won’t stand for that. If you leave me frustrated like this, I’ll appeal to Madame Faberge for help.” She glared at him. “So there.”

“So,” he said in a slow and considering tone, “you want me to show you what comes next.”

“Yes. I want you to teach me everything.”

He gave an agonised groan and moved back to her. “No, I won’t take your innocence, not now, nor in the future. That delight should be left to your future husband. But I’ll relive your frustration. Show you how to turn your body’s desires into pleasure.”

“But what pleasure will that give you?”

He gave a snort of laughter.

“I’ve become accustomed to the strains of celibacy. Although, it wasn’t a problem until you blew back into my life. Watching you come apart in my arms will be agony and ecstasy combined, a torture no man should inflict upon himself. So, don’t ask me for more than I’m able to give, sweetheart. It’d be dishonourable to you, to me, to my family and yours.”

Taking her hand, he led her to the settee. He sat with her on his lap and pulled her back into his arms and with the first touch of his lips on hers, lurched her back to their shared passion of moments before.

Kissing and touching until they both panted and gasped, she was aroused to the point of pain. Pulling apart a little, they gazed at each other in wonder.

“Oh, Cayle.”

His head lowered to press heated lips to her forehead. “I know, sweetheart. Jesus, how I know.”

For a long moment, he simply pressed her tightly against his chest while she absorbed the comfort of being held so close to his heart. He felt solid, and safe, and she wanted to stay there forever.

“Believe me when I tell you I wish my life was different. Until I rid my family of the threat Julia holds over us, I am beholden to obey her every whim. That means no scandal, no involvements, no entanglements of any kind.

Cayle brushed his hand in a tender sweep over her head in an attempt to smooth down the fly-away curls dislodged from her upswept hairstyle. His breath was warm as he nuzzled kisses into her hair before pulling away with a deep sigh and a worried shake of his head.

“I want your promise that you understand this is purely physical relief I’m giving you. You need to understand that at this time in my life, I can’t envisage any permanent emotional attachment between us. I’m not ready for a woman, any woman, in my life.”

A shaft of longing shot through Becca for a tiny taste of the emotional involvement he dismissed so callously. However, she was a strong woman. Knowing that Cayle was too honourable to touch her again if she didn’t agree, she washed any emotion from her face and nodded silent agreement.

Right now she wanted the release, which tantalised just out of reach, far too badly to object. Later, she might regret her decision but for now she would take whatever he was prepared to offer.

“Touch me again, Cayle. I need you. Now.”