The Mistress of Trevelyan (26 page)

He didn't say anything, nor did he release his hold on me. I saw a battle wage within his intense eyes, and I wondered what he wrestled so hard with—until he moved his head. When his lips brushed my fingers still lingering on his chin, he sent a shock of fire racing though me. I knew then that he warred with his attraction for me. I could feel it now that the steam of my words had cleared. My mother hadn't kept me ignorant of the relations between a woman and a man. Though briefly, she'd spoken of it, believing foreknowledge would save me from the mistakes she'd made. Yet here I was, about to toss her wisdom aside. I had to know another of his kisses, as if my very life depended on that knowing. He was a storm I couldn't seem to keep myself from walking out into.

My lips parted, and I leaned to him, pressing my fingers into the supple heat of his lips.

"Miss Lovell," he whispered hoarsely against my fingertips, "I must warn you that—"

"No," I said, stopping his words. "I want no warning, Mr. Trevelyan. I fear all I want is for you to kiss me aga—"

Before I could finish my sentence, his mouth fell upon mine, and he pulled me into his embrace. His body was wet and hard against my warm softness, and I needed to press him closer to me more than I needed to breathe. I wrapped my arms around his neck, driving my fingers into the silky dampness of his hair. He groaned, and his large hands slid down my back, pulling me even tighter to his hardness. His tongue plunged into my mouth, searching for everything womanly within me. And I responded in kind as my hunger for him erupted into a burning need that grew with his every touch.

He ended the kiss before I was ready, and I clutched him tighter against my breasts. "Miss Lovell, we—"

"We have not investigated this kiss thoroughly enough, Mr. Trevelyan." I kissed
him
this time. Twice he'd kissed me and then stopped before I'd had the presence of mind to enjoy the experience. This time I wanted to explore all of the sensations he sparked inside me. I moaned from the pleasure filling me and delved deeper into the passion of the kiss.

My word, I thought, as my action spurred Benedict into motion. He swept me into his arms and carried me into my bedroom, kissing me again and again with a passion I'd never imagined possible. The brush of his beard, the soothing feel of his lips, and the plundering quest of his tongue held me captive. In a haze I saw the curtains of my cloudy blue bed over me, and it seemed right that he should be there, for I'd dreamed of him there. My back sunk into the softness of the bed, but I didn't want the comfort. I wanted to feel every inch of his lean hardness against my body. He stepped back as I reached for him.

I would have spoken had not the stark hunger in his gaze taken my breath away. That and the sight of him so obviously aroused. His pants clung to every nuance of maleness that seemed to grow with his every harsh breath. He stripped off his wet shirt, exposing the massive expanse of his chest, and my fingers itched to feel him. I had to grip the covers, for I knew not what to do. How could I tell him what I had no words to describe? I just knew that I needed him next to me. I needed his kiss. I needed more of the wondrous world of desire he brought to me.

In the flickering lamplight, I saw that water from his body had rendered my gown transparent. The coral tips of my breasts strained against their prison, begging to be freed. I moaned with need.

"Shh," he said softly. Lying next to me, he brushed his fingers against my cheek. "It is all right. I will not hurt you. I am a large man, but I know only gentleness with a woman. You do not have to fear me."

"I know," I whispered. "I have never feared you. I hurt with yearning... for you... for your kiss."

He gasped for air like a man drowning, then he groaned as if he were in pain. "Miss Lovell—Ann—I do believe you have quite undone me."

His hands were no longer cold, yet I shivered when he began to unbutton my gown. For I feared that the master of Trevelyan Hill wasn't the only one undone.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

Benedict slid the last button of my gown's bodice from its mooring and leaned over to kiss me again. My heart thundered partly with desire and partly with the fear of being seen naked.

Before he could open my gown, I turned toward him, pressing myself against his chest, to feel him and to keep myself from being exposed. He seemed to sense my shyness and kissed me again, burying his hands in my hair, taking his time, kissing my cheeks, my neck, and my lips.

Slowly my desire to know more of his touch grew to overflowing. I eased back from him and ran my fingers up his chest, across his shoulders, and down his back. I reveled in the heat of him, in the supple strength pulsating within his brawn. His lips left mine, and he kissed a trail down my chin to the sensitive skin of my neck. His beard pricked and tickled slightly, but his lips spread fire.

I was lost in the new sensations, overwhelmed by them, yet my body seemed to know what to do to respond to him. I leaned my head back, threaded my fingers into the full silkiness of his hair, and his kisses moved back to my mouth, then lower again, and again, and again. The passion of his touch stole away my shyness, making me forget about improprieties or anything to do with any sense of practicality I ever possessed. A madness filled me with such agonizing pleasure, I thought I could take no more. I arched to him, and his lips moved lower still, parting the edges of my gown until I could feel the coolness of air upon my aching breasts.

He leaned back from me to gaze at me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling as if I wanted to cover myself again, but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed, frozen at a place where I could not retreat, but neither could I face going forward.

"Ann, you are so beautiful, everywhere," he said, and shifted on the bed. My eyes flew open as his heated hands cupped my breasts, lifting their aching fullness to his kisses.

I gasped. I couldn't breathe as his mouth covered the tip of one breast and he suckled as a babe might. But there was nothing motherly in the shock of pleasure so intense that my heels dug into the bed and my hips lifted.

Proving that it knew no bounds, my blood rushed wildly, and the light-headed sensation that had enveloped me in the stable returned. A fever washed over me. My skin grew damp, my lungs barely functioned, and my mind abandoned me. I wanted nothing else but to know where this sweet road of pleasure led.

He moved to my other breast and did the same. I could feel the fever in him, too. His hands shook, his breaths rasped, and his body quivered.

"Please," I cried, and he kissed me silent. The aching pleasure had grown so great that I thought I'd scream.

"Shh," he whispered. "I know." Shuddering expectation filled me as his heated hand eased down my stomach and brushed over the heart of my femininity. "Let me show you there is pleasure in my touch."

Did he not think that he was driving me insane with the pleasure?

I grabbed his broad shoulders. "Show me," I demanded. Then, over the damp gossamer cotton of my gown, he firmly pressed his hand between my legs. Though I had asked for his touch, I still gasped at the newness of it. He slid his wet leg over mine, urging my legs apart, and through the soft cotton, he caressed me where I ached the most. A whirling wind of sensation wrapped around my body, tighter and tighter.

I thought that at any moment I would die, for I couldn't possibly live through the pleasure consuming me. My body fled from my control and wavered upon every brush of his finger against me and every kiss he gave until stars burst before my eyes. Heaven reached down and captured me in a golden light. I felt more glorious, more beautiful, than the stained glass windows, and I shuddered uncontrollably in his arms. When I stilled and a warm peace covered me in a cloudy cocoon, I slowly realized the desperation in the quivering tenseness of Benedict's body still wrapped around mine.

The mists cleared from my eyes when he rolled on top of me, sliding between my legs, pressing me into the softness of the bed. The hard ridge of his maleness covered by his wet pants thrust intimately against me, and an odd, almost welcome but uncomfortable sensation of being invaded flooded through me. He levered up on his arms, his body shaking with an effort I didn't quite understand as he pressed his hard maleness against my soft femininity.

The lamplight cast the hewn lines of his face into shadows made deeper by the stubble of his beard. His hair was rakishly tousled, and his skin gleamed with underlying power. His eyes burned so darkly that he brought the demon door to my mind. I realized then that I, as a fair maiden, hadn't fled. I'd succumbed.

Leaning on one hand, he unbuttoned the top of his trousers, and I tensed, remembering the fullness of him I'd seen at his bath. Though I'd dreamed of him, I hadn't imagined the joining of our flesh, hadn't known this sensation of being vulnerable and invaded were part of the pleasure. I gasped, tensing as I realized what would happen next. Was I ready to know a man's passion completely? Ready to fall completely to my ruin?

Benedict rolled off of me, groaning as in great pain. Covering my breasts, I sat up, unsteady from a strange dizziness. He must have sensed my tension, felt my question, my dilemma.

"Benedict?" I whispered, setting my hand upon his back.

He jerked from my touch, standing, but keeping his back toward me. His massive shoulders shook as he drew in deep breaths of air.

"Miss Lovell, life has taken many things from me. My honor, such as it is, I still call my own, although others do not. You must forgive me and forget this ever happened. You are a woman under my protection. I was wrong to ever kiss you. Wrong to ask you to come to me. And wrong to have awakened you in the mad hours after midnight. I can only claim temporary insanity to have allowed this to happen, for I have nothing but dishonor to offer a woman." He spoke harshly, his words sounding like a storm-swelled wave crashing against the dark cliffs of the bay.

He left without a backward glance. Left me aching for the man who'd just spoken with such hopelessness. The smell of rain and his scent—sandalwood and leather— clung to me from his wet clothes. I sat for a long time amid the damp covers in my rain-wet gown, feeling the chill of the early hours of dawn steal around me. What had he meant? No honor but dishonor? What had happened that had put such hopeless pain in his voice? Only then did I recall Stephen's inscription to Cesca, and anger filled me. What had they done?

And what had I done? I'd aroused the passions in a man that I could never openly love. And I was a woman who'd never accept a relationship out of wedlock. I knew what pain that brought. It was something my mother and I had had to bear every day that we lived.

I arose the next morning with the sniffles and a heaviness burdening my chest that declared Sunday wouldn't be as bright and promising as the weather indicated. Benedict was a tortured man, and my inquisitiveness, this need I had to explore the sensations of his kiss, had only added to his pain. For surely I'd provoked him into our passionate encounter.

Yes, he'd kissed me, but I'd been taunting him by pacing around in my nightgown, and I had
asked
him to kiss me. And when he tried to bring a halt to the madness, I'd kissed him. I couldn't let him bear the full responsibility. I decided to address this situation where it had all begun, in the stable. Benedict was wont to spend his early mornings there, and since the day saw fit to dispense with the nighttime rain and mete out a bit of sunshine amid the clouds, I knew I would find him there.

It was amazing what a difference a little time made, for I marched into the stable without even a thought for the horses housed inside. My mind was filled with Benedict, which had my stomach twisted in knots and my heart teetering on a precipice. For I knew what I had to say would seal my fate to forever remain a spinster, and a great part of me wasn't happy with that decision. Indeed it was most miserable at the prospect of never again experiencing the incomparable pleasure he'd given me. But there was no other choice for either of us.

I saw him the moment my eyes adjusted to the dimness. He wore breeches, boots, and a shirt that seemed to cling to him as his rain-sodden clothes had—or my imagination had them doing so. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, leaving his strong, corded forearms bare as he worked, unaware of my arrival. The immense broadness of his shoulders moved with power and surety. He brushed Gunnlod with exquisitely long strokes and murmured softly to her.

My mouth went dry. Everything feminine within me throbbed as I recalled his strokes and whispers last night and the pleasure that followed. Never had I thought I'd envy a horse, but I did. Perhaps I was being too hasty in my decision to speak with Benedict. I'd driven him to passion once by my unseemly behavior.  Surely I could do so again. One more kiss wouldn't hurt...

A picture of Benedict's face twisted with pain flooded my consciousness. No. I would own up to my responsibility, assure him that I understood the situation, and give him my word that I'd not entice him again. Dabbing at my nose with a handkerchief, I readied myself for the confrontation. I'd give him my solemn oath that what happened last night would never happen again.

"Benedict," I croaked meekly, instead of speaking with the firm decisiveness necessary to my new resolve. He swung around to face me. The tired lines of a sleepless night made his stern expression harsher. I stepped hesitantly his way until I stood before him. "Might I speak with you on an important matter?"

My word, where had my determination run off to?

"Very well, Miss Lovell. I expected you would have no choice but to do so." He sighed even as his body tensed, as if a heavyweight had dropped upon him.

I hesitated a second. It would seem we were back to our customary formality, which might be a good thing. What did he mean by no choice? "It, um, concerns . . . Master Justin's upcoming birthday. I think it necessary for us to have a party for him. Making a child feel special, letting him know that he is valued, is essential to his self-worth. Also, there was a problem with their herb garden. We have replanted it, and our profits will be delayed, but a trip to a financial institution this week will give them something to look forward to while they wait for the new plants to grow. Do you have time in your schedule? Wednesday would be best, as they have music lessons on Tuesday and sign language instruction on Thursday."