The Barefoot Princess (15 page)

Chapter 16

J
ermyn rose on his elbow and stared at the still, small light at the top of the stairs. Amy had to come down. She couldn’t change her mind now. If she did, then be damned to this manacle and be damned to this farce. He would rise from his bed and fetch her back here—and all his promised restraint would have vanished.

Still she didn’t move.

It seemed to him that the air grew warm, humid and scented with stress. He tensed, prepared to fling off the covers and go get her.

After minutes so long they felt like hours, she took the first step.

His body tightened. She was doing as he wished, yet still he fought his instincts.
Go to her. Possess her. Make her your own.
He knew that would never work with Amy. She had to be the one to make the moves. She had to imagine she held him in her power.

Later would be soon enough for her to discover otherwise.

She descended the stairs barefooted, clad only in a nightgown so sheer he could see right through it. The way she held the candle out to her side ensured a good view…a magnificent view. She held the box in the other hand, and she gazed at him without a flutter of shyness.

Of course not. Once she made her decision, his Lady Disdain would fling herself into the adventure.

Blood surged in his veins at the realization. She had come to him. She had come without fear. Soon she would take him…

She walked up to him, stood over him, looked down with a smile.

“I didn’t know if you’d find the nerve to come,” he said.

“I knew if I didn’t, I’d regret it all my life.”

No other woman would be so frank with him—or with herself.

He’d been at a disadvantage with this confident virgin. With a more experienced woman, he could promise bliss and she would know what he meant. A woman familiar with the pleasures of the flesh understood what a skilled man could achieve with his kisses and his body.

Instead, he had drawn Amy down here with only words and promises, and the smoky suggestion of the ecstasy their two beings offered.

He showed her his hands palm up. “I have no hidden weapons this time.”

She laughed, a throaty little chuckle, and her gaze wandered down his form beneath the covers. “You lie.”

Every muscle in his body was taut. His cock and balls ached in what seemed like an eternal, unquenchable erection. He couldn’t have imagined he could laugh. But he did. He laughed back at her. Her bawdy sense of humor combined with that chaste body gave him a sense of wonder.

Had there ever been a woman like this one?

She placed the candle and the box on the table. Without an ounce of hesitation, she pulled her nightgown off over her head.

Abruptly his laughter died and he swallowed. Amy clothed in a ghastly gown made his heart thunder. Amy clad in nothing at all made a mockery of all the silks, the satins, the furs of the couturiers. Her shoulders were strong, her arms sculpted with muscle. Her breasts were still new, set high on her chest and tilted proudly, with a rosy aureole that made his mouth water. He could see every rib, her waist was too narrow and her belly concave, but her hips were rounded, made for the cup of a man’s hand, and that was where Jermyn placed his. The hair between her legs was sparse, dark and curly, barely shielding her private parts from his gaze. He could see glimpses of the lips that he had touched, the lips that protected her womanhood.

He wanted to touch her again right now. Only his promise deterred him.

She must have realized what he was thinking, for her smile took on a Mona Lisa quality.

Placing one knee on the mattress, she leaned over him. Her breasts moved closer, almost within reach of his lips. Her thighs were parted and he could see between them, and it seemed as if he could see within her, into the soft, velvet heat that would sear them together.

Then she caught him off-guard.

Taking the corner of the blanket, she peeled it back, revealing his chest, his stomach, his groin, his legs. As he’d promised, he wore nothing—and she looked on him. As thoroughly as he had examined her, she now examined him.

Her face remained expressionless, but her eyes…how her eyes glinted! Like a child’s on Twelfth Night as she opened her best toy.

Touching the still-red scarring on his thigh, she said, “That hurt. Is it tender?”

“It’s bearable.”

“So I won’t hurt you?”

“You won’t hurt me.” Just with the torture of her touch.

Her fingers slid up over his hipbone, across his stomach, and into the hair on his chest. She pressed her palm there; he felt his heart thumping beneath the pressure.

She tilted her head as if she could hear his anticipation. “Do you want me so much?”

He recognized the question for what it was. A young woman exulting in her power.

Yet he held power, too. Gently he slid his hand from her hip to the inside of her thigh and up. Unerringly he found the entrance to her body.

She jumped. Her green eyes widened.

As he knew she would be, she was damp and needy. For the first time, he pushed his finger inside her.

Outside she was silk and satin. Inside she was fire and pleasure. “I want you as much as you want me. Apart we’re two people who speak and walk and see—ordinary, mundane. Together we’re glory and flame, a conflagration of spirits. I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you, but I promise—in all your life, I’m the only lover you’ll ever have. The only man you’ll ever want.” He moved his finger slowly in and out. “You should flee while you can.”

She watched him, her eyes half shut. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Then come and explore me.” He allowed his hand to fall away. “I promise, this new country awaits your conquest.”

He lay flat on his back, a new country indeed, composed of valley and ridges—and one high peak for her to climb. But she didn’t have to tackle it now. First, there were other places to visit.

After all, he had nowhere he
could
go. “You’re mine to do with as I wish.” She laughed, because of course she didn’t for a moment believe he couldn’t grab her and roll her beneath him, but it was heady to know he remained chained on her command.

He was like a feast and she didn’t know what to sample first. His skin was tan all over, a legacy from his Italian mother. His body hair was sparse, a lighter, brighter red than the hair on his head, and beautifully soft and curling. His chest and arms swelled with muscle; when he was free, he did more than sit and read.

“Do you ride?” She ran her finger along the line of his shoulder. “Do you box?”

“And fence.”

Muscle corded his belly, and rising from the thatch of hair at his groin was a most magnificent display of masculine vigor. She understood why he said they would need oil to place
that
within her; the width, the length amazed her…her outstretched hand trembled as she caressed him, making a leisurely exploration of the map of veins and silky smooth skin. Beneath her touch, his member swelled further, rising to nestle her palm. “Magic,” she whispered.

He smiled, swift and implacable.

Finally she lowered her body against his. First her nipples touched, rubbing into the hair on his chest. Then her hips rested against his, and for the first time she felt the heat of his manhood against her. At last she rested on him fully, and the paradise of contact with his entire body made her whimper with pleasure. “You’re so warm.” More than that, he was so alive. In the meeting of their two bodies, she could almost experience the dynamic rhythm of his heart, the strong workings of his lungs, the power of his muscles. She unfolded herself on him, rubbing against him like a cat, and he groaned as if she had hurt him.

A glance at his face proved that his pain mixed with rapture to form a new sensation, one that kept him bound to the bed as surely as the manacle.

She kissed the hollow of his throat, savoring the clean taste of his skin. His chin was smooth against her lips; he’d used the razor today.

“How did you know”—she nipped at his lips—“I would come down to you tonight?”

“You’d have to be a fool not to, and you’re no fool.”

She laughed again, a throaty chuckle. “You’re a confident chap.”

“It’s one of my charms.” He stretched beneath her, a long, slow motion that carried her to another level of intimacy. He challenged her with his glance. “One of my
many
charms.”

In response, she bit his shoulder.

He caught her head in his hands. He brought her lips to his and kissed her with appetite and passion. A different kind of intimacy, warm and wet, one she had experienced before. One she had imagined repeating. With a sigh, she slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back.

He moved beneath her, then dropped the covers over them, giving refuge to the heat their two bodies created. She relaxed against him even more, savoring the deepening unity between them.

With the fingers of both hands, he counted down the vertebrae of her spine until he reached her bottom, then he cupped her cheeks, her thighs, and spread her legs around his hips. She broke the kiss and looked down at him. “For a man who claims to be helpless, you have a way of making your wishes known.”

“I have so many wishes and you’ve made so many come true, I barely know where to start.”

The sensible part of her, the part that planned a kidnapping and carried it out, scoffed at his smooth flattery. But the soft part of her, the feminine part, wanted to moan in wonder. Who would have thought that the condescending Lord Northcliff hid a poet’s soul?

Bringing her knees under her, she opened herself over him, experiencing the intimate pressure of his erection against her dampness.

He groaned, rippling his hips again when he wanted to do nothing so much as to thrust. Thrust hard, thrust deep, thrust fast until he was satisfied. But Amy would find no satisfaction in a fast race and a speedy finish. So gently he rolled her onto her back, taking care to keep his place between her thighs.

She started to raise up, to complain.

Ingeniously he made the chain clink against the stone wall.

At the sound, Amy’s dawning consternation faded and she relaxed onto the mattress. She smiled up into his face. “What do you want to do now?”

In response, he kissed her elegant throat, her pale shoulder, the high globe of her breast. Lifting his head, he said, “I want to taste you.”

Her eyelids drooped, and languidly she wrapped her arms around him. “I think you should do whatever you want.”

He didn’t laugh aloud, although he very much wanted to. He had gentled the wild creature, and now he had his reward. Catching her nipple in his mouth, he circled it with his tongue, light sweeps that propelled her toward arousal. Gradually he used greater eagerness, suckling until she squirmed beneath him. Lifting his head, he blew lightly on her nipple and watched as it puckered, a small, sweet raspberry of desire. Her hands clenched against his back, and her smile had been replaced with an expression of concentration. He was moving her to a place she’d never visited before, a place where bliss reigned and reckless young virgins writhed in his arms.

He subjected her other nipple to the same treatment and listened with relish to the faint moan she couldn’t suppress. He kissed his way down the taut line of her belly, sliding beneath the covers into the darkness where the candlelight didn’t reach.

He knew the moment she realized what he intended, for her fingers became claws holding lightly in his skin. “No. Northcliff, no.”

“I serve at the pleasure of my Lady Disdain.” But he didn’t give up his position. Instead he caressed her inner thighs with long, downward strokes, and kissed the delicate pocket where her leg joined her hip. He used every technique he’d ever learned to seduce her, for every lovemaking had been only a preparation for this one. “I’m going to show you heaven. You’re not afraid, are you?”

“No!”

He smiled. If he could just challenge her, she was easy to manage.

“But I don’t believe you’ve found heaven under the covers.” Her voice sounded stronger, more logical.

Logic was the last thing he wanted from her now so, sliding his hands under her thighs, he lifted them, spread them, opening her to his touch and his taste.

She flinched, tried to fight him, but he crooned, “No, darling, this is my paradise. Let me help you find yours.”

She was open to him and before she could protest again, he kissed her. The warm, clean scent of woman rose into his head like heady perfume; he wanted to shout his delight. Instead he took her womanhood into his mouth and sucked delicately.

Her nails tightened into his skin, but she was no longer trying to push him away. Now, instinctively she tried to hold him. Her faint, sipping sighs and restive, erratic motions quickly changed to the marvelous sounds of amazed euphoria.

He moved down to the opening of her body and circled it with his tongue. He tasted her excitement, excitement that grew as he fondled her, thrusting his tongue into her at first slowly, then more quickly until he mimed the driving rhythm of sex.

She trembled, fighting against the first surge of orgasm, and his balls tightened in response. Revelation flashed through him; her untutored virgin reaction created an echo in him. He had no control and if he didn’t get inside her
now
…

Surging up from under the blankets, he braced his hands beside her shoulders and positioned himself to enter her. He shook with the effort of restraining himself. He wanted to bury his cock inside. He urgently needed to possess her.

Taking a deep, restrictive breath, he watched her face as he slipped inside the first inch. At once her passage spasmed around him.

Sweet heaven above! She was coming. She was coming! Her moisture surged around him, sucking him in, welcoming him in the most basic way a woman can welcome a man.

With her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her fists twisted in the pillow beside her head, she was the picture of newfound ecstasy.

An ecstasy that found its counterpoint in him. Sweat gathered on his brow as he pressed with his hips. Her virgin body pressed back, wrapping him closely even while new waves of orgasm shook her. The bliss of being inside her drove him on.