Authors: Mary Jo Putney
The Rake (36 page)
He pushed the robe from her shoulders, leaving her covered only by the pale translucent fabric of her shift. She might have been embarrassed that her too tall, too extravagant body was so visible, except for the searing intensity in his eyes.
He undid the drawstring that secured the shift around her shoulders. Then he slowly drew the garment down her body, his callused hands leaving trails of fire in their wake. The tightness of his mouth and the roughness of his breathing told her how much she affected him, how much female power she wielded.
There was a moment of utter stillness when her shift fell about her ankles, leaving her naked to his gaze. Then wordlessly she began unbuttoning his shirt, as hungry for the sight of him as he was for her.
Ah, God, how beautiful he was, from broad shoulders to narrow waist to powerful thighs. He was a sculptor's dream, his rugged athlete's body refined by months of unrelenting physical labor. Hesitantly she stroked the dark hair on his chest, skimming her hand downward, feeling the taut ripple of muscle beneath her palm.
He caught his breath when her hand brushed lightly, ever so lightly, against the hard jut of his erection. Then he bore her backward onto the bed, coming down beside her.
But true to his word, he did not hurry. Under his expert lips and hands, she felt like a flower unfurling into bloom as he learned every secret of her body. Her long-buried fears and doubts melted away as her haunting dreams of passion came to life.
After he had kissed and caressed her into intoxicated life, he guided her in exploring his body. His response to her touch was incontrovertible proof that his desire was as fierce and hungry as her own, and knowing that heightened and deepened her own desire.
When she could bear no more and was on the verge of shattering with urgency, he covered her with his body, kissing deeply as his long, clever fingers prepared her for the final intimacy. Yet he was slow, too slow.
Distantly she realized that he must think she was a virgin, so he was moving with the care such a state deserved. Impatient of waiting and beyond explanation, she thrust her hips against his, whispering, “Now, please.”
She felt the hot throb of male flesh with scalding intimacy. Then, with a groan, he yielded to her impatience, possessing her fully with one long shuddering thrust.
She cried out as they came together into an ecstasy of closeness beyond her most fevered dreams. There was an instant of stillness after he buried himself in her, and she sensed his surprise at how easily they had joined.
Then he was in command of himself, and her, once again. With passion and patience and fierce tenderness, he used a lifetime's trove of erotic skill to deepen and prolong the pleasure for both of them.
Until, at the end, he was no more in control than she, and they found boundless joy in each other.
Chapter 23
Shared passion had more than fulfilled her expectations. What Alys had not expected was the sweet languor of lying woven together afterward. Reggie shifted, and for a moment she feared that he intended to leave. Instead he settled on his side, his arm drawing her close so that she was tucked comfortably against him. In this, as in every other aspect of making love, she thought rather sadly, he was an expert.
He slid his hand into her tangled hair, his warm palm cradling her nape. “I want to dismiss once and for all your belief that you're undesirable,” he murmured.
She could feel herself stiffening, and so could he. Gently he thumbed the rim of her ear. “I could spend a lifetime making demonstrations of this nature, Allie, but my guess is that some particular incident first gave you the absurd idea that men wouldn't want you. What happened?”
She shifted restlessly, uncomfortable with how well he could read her. “Isn't it enough that I'm too tall, too masculine, too bossy, and odd-eyed?” She tried to make her tone light, but it came out brittle and defensive.
“Yes, you're tall, but Mary, Queen of Scots was a couple of inches taller than you, and she was a great beauty.” He stroked the length of her back, lingeringly. “If you were shorter, your legs would not be as gloriously, maddeningly beautiful. You are perfectly and exquisitely proportioned, exactly the best height for kissing, and even an inch less would be regrettable.”
He gave her derrière an appreciative squeeze. “Sometimes I thought the sight of you in those pantaloons was more than I could bear.”
“Really?” She met his gaze, not at all displeased at his words. “I dress that way merely because it is practical.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “The fact that you look ravishing is strictly secondary. But surely you must have noticed how every man at Strickland looks at you.”
“I'm their supervisor,” she said reasonably. “Of course they notice me.”
“I own the estate and pay their wages, but they don't look at me that way.” There was laughter in his voice. “As for your belief that you are too masculineâwhatever that meansâno one who has ever looked at you could possibly think you masculine. Every gorgeous inch of you is pure woman.” He cupped her breasts and rubbed his face in the cleft between, the sensual rasp of his whiskers sending tingles through her entire body.
“As for being too bossy ...” He raised his head and considered. “That's absolutely true, but it doesn't make you any less desirable.” Laughing, he dodged the playful swat she aimed at him and continued, “Last but not least, your eyes are beautiful.”
Now sure that she was being teased, she tried to scowl at him, though her sense of well-being was too great to manage much of a glare. “You're being ridiculous. Now I can't believe anything else you said.”
“You shouldâit's all gospel truth.” He raised himself on one elbow and kissed the tip of her nose. “Besides having lashes a yard long, you have one lovely warm brown eye and one lovely, changeable gray eye. Where is it written that eyes must match?”
She dissolved into laughter at his absurdity. Humor was something else that she had not expected to find with a lover.
He finished triumphantly, “And your dimples drive me absolutely wild,” before proceeding to kiss them as well.
From there he nibbled down her throat to her breasts. After several minutes he rolled away. “I keep getting distracted, but there's much that needs to be said.”
He propped his head on one elbow, his expression serious. “Allie, sex is a very basic part of the human animal, and it's a great tragedy that men and women almost never talk freely about it. Respectable women are taught that ignorance and distaste are signs of refinement. Heaven knows how you survived that kind of upbringing with your passion intact, but don't ever be ashamed of what you are, or what you feel.”
She swallowed hard. “I ... I'll try not to be.”
“Sex is an area where everyone is vulnerable in some way.” He absently twined a strand of her hair around his finger. “A fundamental difference between the genders is that women worry about their desirability, while men worry about their performance.”
She had thought herself alone in her fears, uniquely unalluring. “Really?”
He nodded. “Your self-doubt runs far deeper than most women's, and I intend to find out why, but I have never known a woman, even the most acclaimed of beauties, who did not worry about her attractiveness to men. In fact, the beauties worry the most because so much of their confidence is bound up in their appearance, and time will inevitably rob them. Even women who dislike the actual experience of intercourse usually want to be desired, because it gives them power over men.”
Alys stared pensively at the shadowed ceiling as she thought about his words. There was so much she didn't understand about men and women. Her gaze went to Reggie. “I have trouble believing that you worry much about your performance.”
He grinned. “Less than most, perhaps, but believe me, it is a subject all men take very seriously.” Sobering, he said, “Allie, what happened that made you incapable of looking in a mirror and seeing what you are?”
She shrugged and looked away uncomfortably. “Meredith is my ideal of perfect female beauty. Obviously I fall far short of that.”
“Merry is graceful and golden and very pretty indeed, and I'm sure that to Julian she is the most beautiful woman in the world. But beauty comes in many forms that have nothing to do with mere prettiness.” Lightly he traced the lines of her cheekbones and jaw. “You have beauty in the bones, and that will never fade.”
She closed her eyes, relaxing under his touch like a petted cat until, implacably, he said, “What happened, Allie? I am going to keep asking until you answer.”
Even as happy as she was now, remembering caused a sting of tears under her lids. “It would be impossible to explain that without telling you most of my life story.”
“Then you'd better start now, because I'm staying here until I hear it.” His deep voice was warm and encouraging.
How many men knew or cared how a woman's mind worked? Suddenly she wanted to tell him her story, not the identifying details, but the essence that had brought her to where she was today. “I was the only child of a ... rather prosperous family. My mother died when I was young and my father never remarried, so I was treated much like a son. That's how I learned so much about farming. My father and I were very close. He's a ferocious, domineering autocrat, and we had battles that threatened to blow the roof off Car ... off the house, but ... we understood each other very well.
“When I was eighteen, I became betrothed. It was a perfect match. I adored Randolph, my father approved of him, and Randolph pretended to be in love with me.” Her throat closed, and her voice choked off.
“Pretended?”
Reggie's even question helped her to go on. “His protestations of love were all lies. A few weeks before the wedding, he and a friend called unexpectedly. I was out riding, but I saw them drive up to the house and came rushing back.” Counting the days until her marriage, she had been overjoyed at the unexpected visit. “I knew he and his friend would be in the morning room, which had French doors, so I went directly there. I was just outside and the doors were open.”
Even now she could see the softly waving blue damask draperies that concealed her from the men inside. She could hear the cool, contemptuous voices. “They couldn't see me. The friend asked how Randolph could consider marrying a ... a bossy Long Meg like me. Ten feet tall and all bones, not the sort to warm a man at night, and with managing ways that would keep him under the cat's paw. That was bad enough.”
She shuddered over her whole body, “Far worse was being such a fool that I expected Randolph to defend me. He'd said often enough that he loved me. Instead he said ... he said that he was marrying me for money, of course. That once he had control of my fortune, he'd rule the roost.” The acutely remembered hurt was the source of her nightmares, and saying it aloud was like twisting a knife in her midriff.
Then, miraculously, Reggie laid his hand on her solar plexus, right where the pain was centered. “Steady, Allie,” he said quietly. Warmth radiated from his palm, soothing her turbulent emotions.
When she had mastered herself, she opened her eyes and said with more calm than she would have believed possible an hour earlier, “I daresay it sounds trivial, doesn't it? You have survived far worse.”
“Don't discount your own pain,” Reggie said, his voice rough. “No matter how large or small the cause may appear, the only true measure of an injury is how deeply it hurts you. To be betrayed by the man you had trusted with your loveâto have your very femininity disparagedâthese are profound and terrible wounds.”
She rolled over, burying her face against his shoulder. As she felt the knot of old pain slowly unwind and dissipate, she knew in her bones that while there would always be a scar, this part of her past no longer had power over her.
Reggie said no more, only held her, sharing his warmth and stillness. How could he understand so much about pain and healing? A foolish question. She knew enough of his past to understand what a hard school he had learned in.
Feeling lighter and freer than she had since her girlhood, Alys rolled onto her back and managed a creditable smile. “Thank you.”
“Feel better now?” he asked gently, his eyes very warm. When she nodded, he asked, “What happened after you overheard those two young oafs?”
Some of her well-being ebbed away. “I retrieved my horse and rode to the farthest end of the estate, not returning until long after dark. Randolph and his friend had left, since I couldn't be found. When I came home, I marched in to my father and said I wouldn't marry Randolph if he were Adam and the only other choice was the serpent.”
Her body began to tighten again. Reggie pulled the covers up and tucked them around her shoulders. She took a deep breath. “We had a battle royal. When I wouldn't give him a reason for changing my mind, he thought I was being foolish and missish. But I couldn't talk about what had happened. I
couldn't
.”
couldn't
.”
“Understandable,” Reggie said mildly.
Once more his comprehension relaxed her. “My father got all medieval and swore that I was no daughter of his, and that he would disinherit me if I didn't go through with the marriage. Then he locked me in my room.”
“Bread and water?”
She smiled wryly. “I didn't stay around long enough to find out. I put on my breeches and packed what money I had and what clothes could be carried easily. At midnight I climbed down a rope of knotted sheets in the approved romantic fashion. Except that I wasn't running to a man, but
from
one.”
from
one.”
“Not one, but two. If your father had been more understanding, would you have left?” Reggie said quietly.
“No.” Her voice was deeply sad. “Many women have had broken hearts and survived. Being betrayed by my father was far worse because he had been the center and foundation of my life.” She could not think of it, because that wound would never heal. “After I ran away, matters became rather sordid,” she said without inflection. “You know that I wasn't a virgin.”
His hand skimmed up her body until it rested over her heart. “Allie, you don't have to explain anything to me. The woman you have become is a result of all the choices and mistakes you have made through the years. Don't apologize for your past.”
“But I want to tell you. I don't understand myself why I did what I did then. Perhaps you will.” She closed her eyes, her face tight. “Two nights later I was staying at an inn, dressed like a female again. I was going down the hall to my room when I met a merchant who was staying there. He was drunk as a wheelbarrow, and he ... he made an advance.” She bit her lip, then forced herself to say, “And I accepted.”
The merchant's breath had been sour, his hands clumsy. He neither knew nor cared that she was a virgin. And she had lain there and allowed him to violate her.
Alys swallowed, her mouth bitter with the taste of self-loathing. “I must have been insane. It was over quickly. He was too drunk to know or remember what happened, I think.”
“Shall I find him and kill him for you?” Reggie said with deceptive gentleness.
“No!” Alys felt a bubble of semi-hysterical laughter. Perhaps that was what Reggie had intended. “He didn't force me. The fault was mine alone.”
He pulled her closer. Her skin was warm, soft satin. “That must have been a very poor introduction to the delights of the flesh.”
“It was. Worse, I despised myself afterward.” She looked at him, her eyes wide and pleading. “Can you tell me why I did such a revolting thing?”
“Having suffered a devastating blow to your womanhood, you wanted to prove to yourself in the most basic way that a man could want you,” he said immediately. “At the same time, it was one in the eye to your father and the repellent Randolph, the kind of action that would most infuriate them if they knew.” His mouth twisted. “Unfortunately, it also left you with the idea that only a drunkard could want you.”
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