The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (21 page)

“Answer me, Catriona.”

“Such things are not easy for a woman to discern.”

“It is a yes or no question. Either you did or did not get wet.”

She dropped her head and her hair fell over her face.

He swept a lock back, baring one ear. An ear that was flaming crimson. He fancied he could feel the heat coming off of her. “It is yes or no.”

“No, but is no’ that simple. I-I mean a woman is always a bit damp there. How can one be sure that—”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! Listen to yourself, Catriona! Listen to what Meeker has done to you.”

“Well, I can no’ be sure…not exactly sure if I was wet or not.”

He grasped her hair, jerked her head up, put his mouth to hers, forced his tongue inside and ravished hers.

The taste of her mouth, honey sweet, only spurred him on. He cupped her breast, running his thumb over the fast hardening peak. He tightened his hold on her hair, kissing and kissing her until she began to tremble in his arms.

Until she moaned deep in her throat.

He tore his mouth from hers.

She gaped at him, open mouthed.

He reached for the hem of her nightdress and jerked it up, baring her full, ivory-hued thighs. He forced his hand between them.

“Open for me, Catriona.”

Her eyes widened even more.

“Open,” he said, more harshly.

She went limp, her legs parted.

He inserted his hand between them, exploring the folds with his fingers and found her dripping. He withdrew his hand and held it up to her face. Honey-thick fluid glistened on his fingers. “Now tell me true, did the servant tonight make you wet like this?”

She stared at him with those wide eyes then dropped her gaze.

“Did he?” he demanded.

She shook her head.

“Tell me.”

“N-no.”

“Did Robert?”

“No, goodness no.”

“Well, then you couldn’t have taken much notice of either of them, could you?”

“I suppose not.” Her voice shook.

“So, we’ll hear no more of how wicked you were or how their disrespect towards you was any of your fault.”

Her lower lip quivered. “Well, there is some reason why men stare at me the way they do. The way they forget themselves. It happens all the time. Even when I was wed to Freddy. When I gave in to sensual pleasures, when I began to eat and drink more greedily, it showed in my eyes. My wicked self-indulgence shows in my every gesture and men know.”

“Have you never looked in a mirror?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you are goddamned beautiful. That’s why men cannot take their eyes from you.”

Why I cannot take my eyes from you.

She gaped at him, her mouth slightly parted.

Lust pulsed through him. A savage, vicious wave. His cock throbbed painfully, a small surge of seed gushing from the tip.

God.

He bent down and reclaimed her mouth, crushing her soft lips with his.

He slid his fingers back into the folds of her sex with one solitary thought. One driving urge. He was going to make her come for him. No matter if he burned in hell for taking advantage of her, she would cry out his name before the end of this night.

She tensed.

He carefully thrust a finger into her. Her tight, virgin sheath clenched. A fresh gush of wetness eased the way and he gently thrust the digit back and forth.

She whimpered.

He lifted his mouth from hers. “Shh…Easy, love, I won’t hurt you.”

He could hear her ragged breathing. But she made no protest. He ran his thumb over the little nub at the crest of her slit, rubbing it softly. It grew firmer, a little larger. He increased his strokes until it throbbed against the pad of his thumb.

She grasped his shoulders, convulsively, her breathing rasping in his ear.

Her body relaxed and her inner walls clenched his finger.

“James, James!” she whispered.

He could feel her urgency, a painful, strident sort of urgency. He wondered if he should insert another finger. Maybe at this point, it would hurt her. Virgins were not his specialty. Aside from Sunny, he had steadfastly avoided them.

He lowered his head and took one of her straining nipples into his mouth, wetting it through the thin cloth of her nightdress. The soft-firm feeling against his tongue drove him to new heights of madness.

It was as though he could touch her spirit, deep inside. Her nub grew so erect and throbbed so insistently against his thumb, her slick, hot inner walls clenched on his fingers tighter and tighter. Her moans grew convulsive. And yet he needed none of that to know her climax was fast approaching. The sense of her rising arousal was a pulse that beat within his own heart. Never before had he experienced so intense a connection with a woman.

And then he felt all that building heat and fire turn to ashes. Disappointment.

“Stop…stop.” Her voice was soft, breathless. But it held a desperate urgency. It was not a plea made in vain or meant to be coy. It was anguish.

That anguish in her voice shocked him out of his lustful determination. He withdrew his hand then smoothed the hair off of her face. “What happened, love?”

“Just stop.” She panted. “Stop. It’s over. Just over.”

The frustration in her voice cut into him.

“What happened?” he asked again, more gently.

“It always happens like that.” She moved away from him and flung herself upon the featherbed and rolled onto her side. “I am broken.”

Those last three words resonated with more pain than he’d believed a person’s voice could.

Ah, so that was what she meant by being broken. And somehow, Meeker had convinced her it was a sign of moral failing? He frowned. There would be time later to ask her about Meeker.

“Can you come by yourself when you’re alone?”

“No.” Her voice resonated such frustration. Such agony. He could feel that tension coil within his own gut.

“When was the last time?”

“Before Freddy di…” She caught her breath sharply. “Before he left me.”

Chapter Fourteen

Before Freddy…Before he left me.

Sunny’s words echoed in James’ mind. He stroked her hair off of her forehead, lingering over the silken, sweat-damped strands at the crown of her head. God, the depth of her grief—he had not guessed at it. That Freddy’s death could devastate her so deeply that it prevented her from taking her pleasure. He had not imagined.

Was she with Freddy when she came last? He longed, burned to ask.

It would be the most insensitive thing he had ever done. He wouldn’t do it.

In any case, did he really want to know?

He needed to know if he were to be able to unravel the puzzle of her. But it was simply too indelicate a thing to ask. At least, for now.

Especially since his interest was not selfless. He burned for her. And though he loathed to admit it, he burned with jealousy of Freddy. God, she had truly loved that feckless coxcomb  deeply, utterly. James could deny it no longer.

With such a love, could there ever be room in her heart for another?

Love?

Did James really want her to
love
him?

Yes, certainly the old Sunny, he would have encouraged and welcomed her love. He would have leaped at the chance to marry her.

But what role should Sunny play in his life as she was now?

She moaned softly, her body trembling against his. Tenderness overcame him.

She needs you. Stop being so self-consumed. Be what she needs for the time being.

“Here, love.” He touched her shoulders gently, and pulled her back with him to the pillows and then settled her against his shoulder.

She was still shaking. He caressed her hair, gently, rhythmically. Making soft noises to her, something he’d certainly never done before with a woman. He didn’t know how he knew to do that. He should feel foolish but he didn’t.

He had kept a mistress for a time, in London. A pretty little actress. When she drank too much, she’d been unable to come. That she drank to excess so often said something about his taste in mistresses. Yet, he knew that her inability to attain release had caused her distress. But that was only at times, and for a single evening at a time. Imagine Sunny, denied release for years.

He hadn’t exactly been the type of lover a lady of refinement would dream about, had he?

That first time with Sunny, he’d been a young man, full of himself and used to bedding whores and women of loose virtue, used to taking them however it suited him. He had pushed too hard, too fast, and he had hurt her feelings and frightened her.

The enormity of that realization hit him as it never had before. Yes, he’d known he’d done wrong. He’d known his insensitivity had lost him her hand. But he had never before realized how, with his forceful attempt at seduction, he had hurt her spirit.

Now, tonight, he had behaved in much the same manner, allowing his jealousy to get the better of him.

How passively she had lain there, accepting his coarse approach.

Why?

Because a scoundrel of a medical doctor had convinced her that there was something wrong with her. That she had the heart of a whore. That she deserved to be treated no better than a harlot.

Because she’s been treated as though she had no rights to dignity or autonomy by those who were supposed to care for her the most.

Anger swept through him.

How much abuse could a woman bear? Even Freddy had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience and forced her to commit to an engagement before she’d even had a chance to have a Season. A chance to discover who she was as a woman.

Wasn’t she still trying to discover that?

What right had James to impose on her now? Or was it his fated duty to help her discover herself?

The last thought gave him pause as it settled on him with weight and enormity.

It had fallen to him to help her. There was no one else. Would he wait until some other man—a weaker man, a cruel man, perhaps, such as Meeker—stepped up and took his place? Would he stand by until someone else took her in hand?

His honor was misguided.

He had been too focused on trying to control his own emotions. He hadn’t really been thinking of her at all.

He had once again proved himself to be a supremely selfish man. But Sunny needed him.

He had been so determined to treat her with honor.

Better yet he should treat her with kindness.

Tenderness.

For he’d had—and apparently, still did have—some tender feelings for her.

But what did he know of treating a woman with tenderness? He was used to treating women quite basically, being assertive with his needs.

He caressed her cheek with the back of hand. He spoke to her in a gentle tone. What words were slipping from his lips? He scarcely knew. Just soft nonsense, such as a woman might want to hear.

He stroked her back, long, slow motions. Until she stopped shaking. Until her body went limp in his arms. He put his mouth on hers.

Those soft lips beneath his sent heat through his blood. He longed to press hard and force her mouth open and to drink hungrily from her. His erection was returning. He longed to slide his hands down to her arse and jerk her hips to his.

But he reined himself in and continued kissing her with measured pressure, still continuing to stroke her back. And he waited…

She moaned deep in her throat, the sound vibrating through her body, her mouth to his lips. The delicacy of the sensation caught him by surprise. A highly pleasurable surprise. He had never taken the time to notice such delicate things when bedding a woman.

She shifted. Wrapped her arms about his shoulders.

Something hot and wet flicked at his lips. Her tongue. He caught his breath and his heart raced at her boldness.

She moaned and writhed beneath him, arching her back and pressing her breasts to his chest. Heating his blood. With each beat of his heart his anticipation mounted. Every instinct he possessed shouted for him to mount her and press himself into her slick channel.

He pulled away from her slightly then held his breath for the space of several heartbeats and forced himself to go slower, to caress the swell of her breast, lightly.

Pleasure coursed through Sunny at the touch of James’ hands on her breasts. She arched her back and moaned. She expected him to squeeze them, to bend his head and suck on her nipples. But he just continued stroking her softly. The underside of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the gentle swell of her belly. His lips brushed over the pulse in her neck and sent thrills racing through her. He kissed the hollow beneath her ear and more thrills went tingling through her, pleasure, golden, warm pleasure. He licked her earlobe. Little shivers of deliciousness went chasing down her neck, her spine. She gasped and wiggled as the shivers continued with each flick of his tongue.

He took her lobe into his mouth and sucked. Heavens! Such pleasure went sparking down her neck to her breasts, tightening her nipples and sending fiery sparks deep, deep into her belly. It was so intense, she shuddered all over. She had never known something so simple like that could produce so much sensation.

She clutched his shoulders, moaning and writhing as he continued to lick and suck on her earlobe. He nipped at her, lightly. And she came undone. Clutching at him. Crying out and feeling so alive with sensation.

His fingers brushed her nipples. Shocks of pleasure shot deep into her belly. He kissed his way down her collarbone, down over the tops of her breasts. He kissed her breasts. Not her nipples. The fleshy soft part of her breasts, kissed not just in passing, but more like making love to her breasts. . The feeling was heavenly. She closed her eyes and gripped his shoulders. Nonsensical words flew from her lips. Pleas for him to never stop.

He continued.

And she luxuriated in the sensations.

Eventually, he began to stimulate her nipples, a barely-there touch at first, then more firmly. Then when her nipples were hard as pebbles and she was sure that her breasts would explode from sheer ecstasy, he bit at them, gently. Dear God! She’d never known her body was capable of generating so much bliss. Not without release.

He stroked her belly with a feather soft touch. “Sunny.”

He spoke her name with such reverence. His eyes shone bluer than sapphires. A joy filled her, all its own aside from the miraculous feelings he was evoking in her body. Her spirit soared.

He kissed her belly, igniting a thousand butterflies in the wake of the teasing, gentle brushes of his lips.

She giggled and clutched his head, stroking his hair and loving the cool, silken feel of the coal-black strands. As he moved lower and lower, thrills consumed her, making her feel that the chamber were spinning. She couldn’t stop arching her hips. His lips touched her mons.

She caught her breath and went rigid all over. She grasped his shoulders then released her breath in a rush and a plea, “No, no!”

She grasped his shoulders even tighter, trying to push him away. “You mustn’t do that!”

He rolled off her body and jolted to a seated position.

She sat up. “Don’t ever do that!”

He touched her shoulders. “It’s all right.” He caressed one hand between her shoulder blades. “It’s all right.”

Fluid had filled her nose. She sniffed, loudly.

“Shh, shh,” he said softly. The bed rocked as he left it.

Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision.

Ninny!

She berated herself inwardly, as she swiped at her eyes with the back of her arm.

He returned and handed her a handkerchief.

She took the snowy white cloth and wiped her eyes, blew her nose. “I am sorry,” she said. “I am so sorry.”

“It is all right, Sunny. Don’t worry about it.” His voice was deep, a little hoarse sounding.

“Everything was so lovely. I had to spoil it.” She sniffed mightily. “I don’t understand myself.”

“Nothing is spoiled.”

“How can you say that?”

He didn’t answer. He just caressed her back, apparently content to watch her sob and sniffle. As the sense of being upset began to ease, humiliation took its place. She could feel his eyes burning into her. She could feel the gears in his mind working. There would be questions. She held her breath, feeling her muscles tense as she waited…

James saw the tension stiffening her body. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Freddy did that to you, didn’t he?”

She compressed her lips. She wouldn’t look at him. But she did nod, ever so slightly.

“Did you like it?”

“Too much.” Sadness resonated in her voice.

“Women are supposed to like it. Why was it too much?”

“Because he should no’ do things like that.”

“Wasn’t it his decision?”

She shook her head. “He’s,” she said and paused. “He was only a man. Frances said it was my place to set limits.”

James caressed her back again, using a slow up and down motion until he could feel her muscles begin to relax. “I thought you said women were to be under the dominion of men?”

“Healthy men.”

“Did his illness affect his wits?”

“Oh, what a cruel question!”

“Not at all, Sunny. I am trying to find out why you would take responsibility for Freddy’s actions.” He gave her a soft caress on the back. “I ask again, had his wits become addled by his illness?”

“Not at first; that is, not when we were first wed.”

“And he pleasured you then?”

She nodded. “I was quite shocked.”

“I’ve no doubt you were.”

“I was no’ supposed to be in his chamber. But he would visit me late at night, when the whole house was asleep and none of the servants were awake to tell on us.”

“So it was a naughty secret between you?”

“Very naughty.” Her voice was softer.

“Did you do things for Freddy?”

She lowered her eyes and a flush spread over her cheeks. She looked suddenly girlish. “Yes, sometimes. If he felt right enough for it.”

“Did he ever come?”

“No.” She said the word quickly even as the flush intensified over her cheeks. “H-he did no’ get so hard. Not like you do.”

“But he liked the things you did?”

“Yes, he said he did.” She inhaled sharply. “We had to stop.”

“Because of his health?”

“Yes, it was too much for him.” She turned away and lay down and hugged the pillow. “He changed.”

“Did he?”

“He began to be so angry. At himself, for all the things he could not do, could not be. I did no’ know how to bring him ease. Nothing I said did any good.” Sadness had entered her voice. “He didn’t need my love. I didn’t know what he needed. But it was no’ my kind of love.”

He didn’t know what to say. Damn it all. What wasted years for her!