The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (16 page)

He put his other hand on her breast.

She bit her lip.

He squeezed her and she moaned and arched her back.

He stroked his hand up and down his shaft.

She looked up, meeting his gaze, her eyes dark and full of desire.

Sunny.

Had he said her name aloud? She was with him, her gaze burning into him, settling deep within him. He’d never had such a sensation. It added a piquancy to the moment.

Damn, he wanted to be inside her.

No, he would give her only this. She watched his hand now. Intently. It aroused him beyond bearing. He jerked himself harder, faster. His seed came roiling up his shaft. He groaned and pressed himself to her soft belly. Fierce ejaculations overtook him, tremors wracked his body. A harsh groan tore up from his throat.

He collapsed against her.

She laughed softly. It was Sunny’s girlish laugh, full of the joy of life.

His eyelids grew heavy. He barely managed to roll away from her, to relieve her of his weight, before sleep overcame him.

* * * *

Sunny arose and went to the mirror at the washstand.

She stared at the torn edges of her nightdress and a thrill shot through her, making her tingle from head to toes.

Her stomach was wet, glistening with his seed.

Claimed.

She’d been utterly claimed by James.

She hugged her shoulders, holding back the urge to laugh. She had never felt so giddy with joy.

Was it just a fleeting moment? Maybe. But she would snatch all the pleasure she could from it.

She stripped off the remnants of her nightdress and washed herself. Then she returned to the bed and lay beside him. But she couldn’t sleep for the happiness that still thrummed in her blood. She watched him sleep for a while. It had all been so wildly exciting. Watching him make himself come. Having him come all over her belly. She couldn’t stop herself from taking his hand.

Placing it on her breast.

He groaned and gave her a squeeze. Quite firm.

Sparks of delight raced through her and she caught her breath.

The bed ropes creaked with his weight as he turned towards her and took both her breasts into his hands.

She kept her eyes closed.

Was she dreaming?

No, she didn’t want to know.

The night before might also have been a dream induced by opiates. She’d certainly had plenty of lusty dreams before.

The warmth of his tongue teased her breast. A spark of desire spread through her belly and lower. Her sex clenched and wetness began to flow between her legs.

He rolled her from her side onto her back. His weight settled on her, the hair on his chest, abdomen and legs rasped against her. She loved it all. Even the odor of sex and stale whisky he bore.

He cupped her face. “Sunny.”

Passion vibrated in his voice.

She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest.

He groaned then put his mouth to hers, open, hungry.

He kissed a trail from her mouth, along her cheek to her ear. He nipped her lobe.

The sharp bite of pain made her gasp and jump.

He pressed his erection firmly to her belly and held her by the shoulders in a fierce grip. “Are you wet?”

Even her common-born lover had never been so blunt. But that very directness, coupled with the throb of his erection, thrilled her. More wetness gushed from her sex and she nodded. “I am so very wet.” Her voice sounded hoarse, unlike herself.

He groaned and pressed his knee between her legs.

Oh God. Oh God.

Joy thrummed inside her. Her heart was beating so hard it threatened to leap from her chest.

He inserted his hand between her legs. He groaned again. “God, you are wet.”

She clenched again and another surge of wetness gushed from her.

“Oh, Christ,” he said hoarsely. He slid a finger between her folds then thrust it inside her, a quick, harsh move that sent sparks of fire up into her belly.

Her hips arched of their own accord. Her nub throbbed painfully.

“Oh, oh, oh…” She knew she sounded silly, but she couldn’t stop.

“I can’t wait,” he said. He parted her legs wider, positioned himself.

The warm, hot silk of him touched her entrance. She arched against him. “Please, oh please…”

He pressed.

Her body resisted.

She whimpered and arched. “Please, please.”

He pressed, harder.

A sharp, tearing sensation spread through her loins. Painful but sweet, oh so sweet. She arched up, seeking more.

But he had already pulled away.

She reached for his hips, gripped his buttocks, feeling their taut muscular strength. “Please, oh James please.”

She tried to pull him towards her, but it was like trying to move one of the marble pillars at the entrance to Blayne House.

He was gaping at her. “What the devil, Catriona?”

He almost never called her Catriona, unless he were unhappy with her.

Coldness settled in her stomach. She gripped his buttocks a little more firmly. “Please, James, just—”

“You’re a virgin.”

“Well, yes, I am but—”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“It seemed as though it would spoil the mood.”

“Quite.” He frowned. “Sunny, you deserve better than to be deflowered so briskly by a drunken man.”

“Then you’re not really angry—I mean not too angry?”

“Yes, not too angry.” He grinned, slightly. “God, Sunny.”

“What?” she asked, startled by his tone. A pang of alarm raced through her body.

“I was going to…hard. Do you understand?”

She nodded. But she still didn’t understand what he meant.

“I would have
hurt
you.” He caressed her cheek. “God, I would sooner cut my right arm off.”

“I don’t think it would have hurt that badly.”

“You know nothing of it,” he said tersely. He moved away from her and she made to follow. He took her arms and held her at a distance.

She recalled that sharp, sweet ache as he had been about to break her maidenhead. She wanted that. Her intimate flesh clenched. Wetness continued to flow between her legs. She wanted him inside her.

“James, please, come back to me and finish—”

“Later.” How terse he sounded!

All the pleasurable tingling inside her began to tighten into that familiar, ever-present tension.

She couldn’t help a small, miserable moan. One of defeat. Disappointment.

He released her hands and she sank back into the featherbed.

His expression softened. He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Later, when I am sober and I can attend to the matter properly.”

Hope flared to life within her. She sat up partway. “You promise? You will do it, you will finish this?”

He gave her a slight smile. “I am only human, Sunny.”

She sighed.

His face contorted with concern. “What?”

“This is all so difficult. For me it is.”

He caressed her cheek again. “Poor Sunny. It has been so hard for you.”

At his sincere, sympathetic tone, tears pricked her eyes. She closed her eyes and nodded. “It is foolish, I know, to hurt over this matter. I am not supposed to want this, but oh, I want it so badly.”

“I want this too.” He took her hand and pulled it lower and wrapped it around himself.

She gripped his shaft.

He throbbed against her hold. God, he was so big. So hot. So hard.

Her flesh clenched again. And again.

They had been so close to actually doing it. Now he said she must wait.

A little swooning sensation passed through her, leaving her weak.

How would she ever wait?

He tightened his hand over hers and his rod throbbed harder than ever. Hot, milky fluid leaked over her hand.

“I don’t think we need to wait.” The words escaped her lips before she could think.

“We definitely need to wait.” He leant forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I have to leave now.”

“No, no, don’t go.”

“I have to.” He removed her hand from his erection and then he quickly arose from the bed.

She moved to follow him.

“Catriona.” He spoke so sharply that she went completely still.

She glanced up at him.

He stared down at her with a stern expression. It reminded her of the look he had given her that first night in his bed at Blayne House, when he had spanked her.

Her mouth went dry. A peculiar mix of excitement and fear swept through her, leaving her tingling deep within her belly. All over again, wetness began to flow from her core.

“You will stay here,” he said.

She went weak all over. Any will to press the issue, to defy his order, went out of her. It wasn’t just fear that he might spank her if provoked too far. It was a desire to mitigate his displeasure.

She dropped her gaze.

“Good girl,” he said softly.

Warmth filled her. Through the veil of her lashes, she watched him leave and go to her chamber.

Chapter Ten

James awoke. He grimaced at the stench of urine and stale sweat, then his stomach roiled. Sunny hadn’t been lying, the bed reeked. He’d been too drunk, too frustrated and too exhausted the night before to notice.

He flung the bed covers off then rose from the bed and went to use the necessary. After that, he went to the washstand to splash cool water on his face.

Face dripping, he looked into the mirror. Bloodshot eyes stared back from a paler than normal face. He rubbed his hand over the thick growth of stubble on his cheeks. How rough had he looked last night? If he and Sunny had been lovers, he would never have gone to her without shaving first, much less in a state of heavy intoxication. Well, it wasn’t his way to drink to excess now. He’d put all that behind him…

However, he couldn’t deny it. After all these years. After all the women and war and denial he’d put between them, she still possessed the ability to strip away all his self-control and reveal the passionate, primal man beneath.

That’s not her fault. You can’t resent her for that.

But he did resent her for it. How unfair of him. How selfish. And he also resented being shown how selfish he was. It gave him a most unpleasant sinking sensation right in the pit of his belly.

He raked his hands through his unkempt hair. Then he picked up the linen towel, rubbing his fingers over the coarse nap before vigorously drying his face with it. A strong smell of soap made him wrinkle his nose. He tossed the towel to the washstand. Pray God the towels were kept in a better state than the mattresses. Preferably boiled when they were washed. What had happened to the quality of this inn? The thought brought another wave of that sinking sensation in his stomach. He’d been wrong to distrust Sunny about the state of that bed. She went to extreme lengths to be forthright.

Forthright about things she shouldn’t take blame for and shouldn’t tell others. He blamed her parents for having instilled that need to confess within her. She held herself to such high standards, no flesh-and-blood woman could ever live up to them.

Yet, hadn’t he tried to hold her to such standards?

Aye, and would she take on all the blame for the night before?

But she hadn’t been forthright about everything, had she? What was this business of her still being a virgin?

Without another thought, he went to the other chamber. She slept, curled on her side with her hair a glorious spill of golden brown over the pillowslip. His gaze followed the curve of her bare shoulder, the creamy tops of her generous breasts and the broad, round shape of her arse beneath the sheet.

His cock stirred. He grasped himself and gave his unruly erection a chastening squeeze.

No, no, old boy, that’s all over.

He was determined to enact a new, firmer measure of control over himself. Yes, he’d made her that rash promise last night about finishing the deed. But no woman could ever expect to hold a man to a drunken promise, could she?

She looked so innocent in sleep. Virginal.

Yes, virginal still. Just barely. Last night, it had taken everything inside himself to pull back from her, to resist the urge to press forward and break the fragile barrier of her maidenhead. At the memory of her wet, hot flesh against his, his erection jerked and fluid leaked from the crown. He winched with the aching desire. What was all this business of her
affaire
with the Sassenach footman? He longed to ask her, but this morning wasn’t the time for what promised to be a long–and possibly emotional—discussion.

They would have plenty of time for her to enlighten him once they reached the grange. In fact, he didn’t trust himself to spend too long with her this morning. The memories of last night were too strong. And his head was just now beginning to pound. He wasn’t accustomed to drinking to excess any longer.

He wouldn’t allow himself such a lapse again.

He quickly found his clothes and put them on. Then he went to the bed, sat beside her and caressed her arm with a light touch.

“Sunny?”

Her eyes fluttered open slowly.

“James,” she said, sleepily.

“Good morning.”

A slow smile brightened her face.

Lust slammed through his cock. He caught his breath. She was so damned lovely. Blood rushed into his burgeoning erection, lengthening it. He released his breath slowly and forced himself to refocus on what he wanted to tell her.

“I must see to the details of our journey today,” he said. “But you will not be alone. Robert will be here to attend to your needs.”

A shadow seemed to cross her face. Anxiety.

He touched her hand. “Will you be that uncomfortable alone?”

She frowned.

He caressed his thumb over her palm. Her skin was soft, warm, velvety. His attention fell once more to the swelling of her bosom above the sheet. His cock jerked and a small surge of seed leaked from the crown. He didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to crawl under the coverlet and draw her close and touch those beautiful breasts. To stroke every inch of that wonderfully youthful flesh. His erection had grown rock-hard, pressing insistently against his fall.

“At Blayne House, I wouldn’t ever be left alone in the company of a manservant.”

Her softly spoken words pulled him out of his lustful haze. He jerked his gaze back to her face. Powerful emotion was stamped into her expression. Fear of herself.

She’d had such desire for an unsuitable man that it now frightened her. She was afraid she would desire a man like that again. A man other than James.

Something new burned in his blood. Not lust. Jealousy.

How unworthy of him. He forced it down. Forced his expression to be calm. “Don’t you think all that worry on the part of Aunt Frances is a bit foolish?”

“She’s not the only one who worries.” Her voice was sad.

“I trust you, Sunny. I trust you not to cause me any difficulties during our journey.”

Her eyes widened and her gaze clung to his, as though he were her only means of safety in a whirlwind. “You trust me?”

She sounded so desperate to believe him. She needed someone to believe in her. To trust her.

He’d never been needed by any woman in this emotional manner.

He hadn’t expected this. None of this. He took a deep breath. Forced a more pleasant expression and gave her hand a squeeze. “Of course I trust you.”

What would he do if she proved unworthy of that trust?

He could feel that distasteful jealousy, bitter and hot, at a low hum in his blood, like bubbles under the surface of the water in a kettle, just waiting to break into a boil. It had quite begun to overtake his lust. How would he manage to control the extremely powerful emotions she could evoke? To hide his inner turmoil, he smiled. “Are you going to be all right, here alone with Robert?”

She flashed him a smile. “I will no' be trouble. At least no’ more than I can help.”

Her eyes and expression bore a definite flirtatious demeanor. Her intentional exaggeration of her brogue warmed him. She exuded sensuality. What was it? The glint in her eyes? The glow of her skin? The way she posed her body? It was all of that.

Lust resurged within him, sending blood rushing back into his cock. Even so, her words echoed in his mind.

At least no’ more than I can help.

What the devil did that mean?

Was she flirting with him? Or was she picking a soft way to warn him that she couldn’t promise to control herself. Was that fear valid? Or was it something Meeker had convinced her was true?

He couldn’t marry a woman who could not control herself. He had a duty to his family, to his position. He simply couldn’t risk making an unsuitable woman his baroness. His countess.

His smile felt frozen to stone. They stared at each other for a few moments. He longed. Burned to ask her all about that business of the English footman and how she could still be a virgin.

Yet, he didn’t think he could bear to hear the details just now. As it was, he was having trouble managing the burning, bitter jealousy. The hot, insistent lust. The twin emotions urged him to take her by the shoulders and press her down upon the bed. Pin her there, strip the sheet away and put his knee between her legs and…He closed off the thought. Uneasiness wound through him. It had been years since he had experienced any sort of distrust of his own emotions, his own reason.

She licked her lips. “I am so thirsty.”

Her eyes remained haunted, despite her smile.

With an ever increasing sense of unease tightening the muscles of his stomach, he arose and found the pitcher and poured a glass of water, took a deep drink then refilled the glass and brought it to her.

Whilst she drank, he couldn’t keep his mind off of the taste of her mouth. He wanted to kiss her, deeply, to take his fill.

He could not.

And that brought him to the very thing he must discuss with her. She had drained the glass. He took it from her and placed it on the night table.

Her smile was pure sunshine, all small white teeth and full rose-red lips. Bright green eyes. She rose to a sitting position, her hair spilling over her shoulders, her full breasts bouncing with their nipples just barely covered by the sheet that she held to herself.

Beautiful. The most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

His unruly cock began to lengthen and harden all over again. He was aching. God, he’d been in a constant state of aching desire since he’d seen her in the garden at Blayne House.

He took her hand. “Sunny, I am so sorry about last night.”

Her mouth dropped open, giving him the instant urge to swoop down and cover it with his own, to thrust his tongue against hers again and again until they were both breathless with need.

He compressed his lips a moment, struggling for composure. “I made a mistake and the blame is all mine.”

Sunny looked into James’ blue eyes. How grave he looked. As though someone had died. A cold weight settled into the pit of her stomach. She began to wish that she hadn’t gulped down all that water.

“Is there any blame between us?” she asked, hearing the sadness in her voice. Yes, she’d done some shameless things over the past few years. But last night hadn’t felt like one of them. It had felt strangely right.

“I should never have taken advantage of you.” Remorse sounded in his tone.

She gaped at him. “Advantage of
me?”

“Of your state.”

She winched. “You mean my state as a-a lightskirt?”

“Good God, no.” He frowned. “No.”

She winced again.

His expression eased. “I meant the laudanum. Surely it affects your judgment.”

Relief washed over her like a spray of cool water on the hottest day in June. The tension melted from her body and she couldn’t help a slight smile. “I took only a small dose of laudanum last night.” She held up her thumb and forefinger. “Very small.”

She was aware that she fluttered her lashes. Aware that her smile had widened. It was so easy to play the flirt with him. Too easy. She did it without thinking. He kept making her feel that it was all right to be her natural self.

And she was at heart a flirt. But maybe with James, it would be all right to relax her guard? To let go?

He didn’t return her smile.

All the exuberance within her chilled. Her smile died. She suddenly felt she ought to apologize for having been too much…too much what?

Too much herself.

A weight settled into her chest. She bit her lip and searched for the best way to express herself. “I am sorry.”

He scowled. “For what?”

“For-for overstepping. For assuming—”

“Stop.” He held up a hand.

“I am just trying to apologize for—”

“Sunny, you’ve done nothing you need to apologize for.”

“Then why would you deny us this chance to be together?”

“You are still recovering from all that has happened to you,” he said, gravely.

“I suppose I am.”

He nodded, his eyes so full of sorrow. Regret.

“Oh no, please do no’ do this.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t think me that fragile. I need—”

“You need time.”

He didn’t understand.

Oh, no, not at all.

This was a chance for her to make a decision, all on her own.

Even the decision to be Silas Chapman’s lover had been forced on her by limited opportunities.

But now, for the first time in her life, she was choosing from a position of true desire.

She chose James.

But how to make him understand without injuring his male pride, his need to be the pursuer?

“Yes, I do need time to sort myself out. But James, should I stop drinking and eating and sleeping whilst I do?”

“This is different. And you’ll blame yourself. You’ll call yourself wicked. I know that if I…if we—” he closed his eyes. His expression looked oddly pained and he took a long, deep breath. “—you will blame yourself.”