The Surrender of a Lady (27 page)

“Rothburn . . .”

“Say you will stay with me.”

“And what of Jonathan?”

“He is yours, Jinan. I wouldn’t ask you to part with him after all you’ve been through to keep him at your side. I never planned to separate you once I finally got you out of the harem. Had I known of your son initially I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

“I can’t go back to England. I can’t face the
ton
and the gossip. My husband was not well liked. He did not succeed in making friends. He had a great deal of enemies after his many bouts with unlucky gambling and carousing.”

“I won’t ask you to return there. Just stay with me here. With your son. I’ll do whatever I can to name him my heir if you wish.”

“That is not his place.”

He put his finger over her lips. “We have the rest of our lives to figure that out. I’d say it’s about time you called me Griffin.”

Her lips trembled beneath his finger, then tilted up in a smile. “Griff . . . yes, I like this name.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, capturing it in a kiss to seal their words. He tasted the plumpness of her lips, not going further, not wanting to stop whatever confessions she still must make to free her of her old life.

When she broke away, they both breathed hard for air. His fingers were wrapped tightly in the coils of her hair, the pins loosening as he searched them out.

“Say you will stay with me, Jinan. Nothing else matters but that.”

“I once thought you above my station, Griffin. Out of my reach. You are not. I know this now.”

“Never have you been out of my reach. I’m sorry to have let you down. I’ll never stop telling you that.”

“I ask two things, as your mistress. Amir has given me provisions . . . I ask this: You must help my son inherit his rightful title because I can never reveal the truth of who I am, and you must remain faithful to me. This last one is a lot for me to ask because you are in need of an heir.”

“Jinan . . .”

“You must hear me out. I cannot stay in your shadow and watch you raise a family.”

“I do not want to marry another.”

Whatever she was about to say was stopped in mid-word. Then, “What of an heir?”

“I have a cousin that will fill the seat just as well as I. Possibly better.”

“So you promise me these things?”

“Of course I do. But I never wanted you as my mistress. I want you as my wife.”

She pulled from his grasp, staring at him with her arms slack at her sides. “I cannot marry you. Not after everything I’ve done.”

“We will marry. Any children from our union will have a right to my name! I do not care how we came to be together in the end or what hardships you’ve lived through. Just say you are mine. Please, Jinan.”

She clenched her fist over her heart, and he held her hands tight. “Say yes, Jinan. Please say yes, I can’t bear to let you go again. We can live here. Move somewhere else . . . anywhere but England, which has only scorned you. Just stay with me.”

A gasp of surprise escaped her.

“I love you.” And with that she flung herself into his open arms. She squeezed him as tightly as she could, holding him in a great hug. He held her just as tight. So this was it, the start of their life.

They’d found each other after being lost from each other for so long.

This was the beginning of paradise.

Epilogue

One year later

Griffin looked up when a soft knock landed on his study door. Jinan slipped into the room, giving him a pointed look, lips pouting for only a second before she hid it.

He smiled. “Peters, we’ll resume this discussion tomorrow.”

Peters turned around, seeing Griffin’s wife, and bowed on his way out. “Felicitations, my lady.”

He watched his sweet wife duck her head, a blush infusing her cheeks and neck. “Thank you, Peters.”

She walked toward him and around to where he sat in his desk chair.

Griffin pushed his chair out and pulled her gently down into his lap. He lowered his head and kissed her distended belly. “What brings you here in the middle of the morning?”

“Jonathan went off to the pond with Ceci and Ally. It had me thinking. We’re all alone
and
we have the house to ourselves before the baby comes in a few short months.” She turned her head to him, pressing a light kiss against his cheek as her fingers pulled his necktie loose.

“If you start that, love, I’m going to keep you in bed for the rest of the day.” He groaned into her mouth as her fingers slipped free the buttons of his shirt.

“Maybe I’ve been a little ill all day, and you need to nurse me in our bedchamber.”

“That sounds decidedly delicious. I’m afraid we won’t be able to leave this room with any decency now.”

Her hand lowered to his raging stiffness. He picked her up, stalking over to the chaise in five quick strides. Setting her down carefully, he went to turn the key in the study doors. He disrobed as he walked back around to his wife, then helped her out of her loose shirt and trousers. “I like that you’ve pulled out some of your old clothes. So much easier to undress you.”

She laughed, and the husky deepness had his cock jerking to attention. “I do not like English clothes when I’m so fattened by your baby. These are more comfortable.”

“Mmm, I’m not complaining. Now lean back.” He knelt between her open thighs, kissing her naked belly, her heavy, swollen breasts, and sucked the peaked tips into his mouth.

“Griff, I’m so over the moon I might find my crisis this way. Touch me.” He lowered his hand to the bare folds of her sex, flicking his thumb over the distended pearl.

It pleased him that she still kept up this particular harem tradition, for he was loath to see the hair grow back—he loved her like this. They’d had to hire a companion who could meet her many needs, but Jinan had taken the woman under her wing, welcoming her like a long-lost sister. The two were damn near inseparable, unless Jinan was with him, of course.

When he looked up, it was to see her head thrown back, biting her plump lower lip, as she moaned something unintelligible. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. He stood and kissed her mouth. “Will you kneel over the bench?”

Her smile was sultry, seductive, and too damned much for his sanity. She pushed off the chaise, kneeling on the pillows he threw down on the floor. She gave him her rear and a look that said,
I dare you,
over her shoulder. He was on her in seconds, his cock slipping into the welcome warmth of her cunt. They both came within a few strokes. He liked how sensitive she was during this time of her pregnancy.

He pulled out of her and sat on his haunches, bringing her down onto his lap.

“Is that what you needed, love?”

“Yes,” she said, trying to catch her breath, her breasts heaving in his grasp.

“How come you didn’t go down to swim with Jonathan? There aren’t any djinn this time of day.” He gave a low chuckle as he said it, earning him an elbow in the ribs.

“I really do need you to attend me in bed . . . for the rest of the day, my lord.”

“What did I say about the ‘my lords,’ my lady?”

She slid off his lap; the feel of her wet slit sliding down his thigh inflamed his cock to stand fully erect again. “God, woman, you’re killing me.”

“I can’t help it. It’s not as if I expected to have any relations in this state.” She faced him on her knees. He didn’t like her kneeling on the hard floor, so he gave her a hand up, retrieved her shirt and slipped it over her head.

“I like that you need me, Jinan. I’ve needed you all my damned life and felt lost without you. I don’t want you to feel that way.”

He held the trousers out to her, but she didn’t take them. Jinan stepped close enough to place a kiss on his lips, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her belly a strange, welcome bulge between them.

“I’ve loved you all my life, Griff. Don’t forget that. At least we found each other in the end. Now come to bed and nurse me for the rest of the day. I think the doctor prescribed a good gamahuche to relieve this excess feeling trembling through my veins.”

He smiled at his wife, bending down so she could put her legs in her opened trousers. “I do recall something about that in the doctor’s orders. Shall I carry you upstairs or are you able to flee before I can pounce again?”

She laughed and raced for the door. He gave her enough time to unlock it before he was hot on her trail. Life really couldn’t be better than this. He had the wife he’d always wanted, a son, and another baby on the way. He caught her just as she reached the bedchamber, slipped in behind her, locked the door, and did exactly what the doctor had prescribed.

A sneak peek at

THE SEDUCTION
OF HIS WIFE

by

Tiffany Clare

Coming February 2011

From St. Martin’s Paperbacks

Richard watched Emma toss pieces of bread into the pond. A gaggle of geese and two pairs of swans swam forward to grab them before they sank to the bottom. A breeze tickled at her hair, lifting it in its cool embrace. She pulled her lace shawl up around her shoulders and looked skyward. He did, too.

Storm clouds were rolling in. Fast. When she stood, the birds honked at her sudden movement and swam away. Emma still hadn’t noticed him watching her, standing beside a large birch tree not more than a dozen feet away. Tying her wrapper at her breast, she gathered up the papers she’d been sketching on.

This morning as he’d shaved, he had come to the conclusion that he had a strange notion to court his wife.

When they were younger, she was captivated by his every word. Alarming as that had been for a young man forced to spend company with a childlike girl, that kind of adoration could be used to his advantage. Given time, she’d find him charming again.

Without a doubt, she was the type of woman to come around once she could call someone a friend. He would make sure he filled that role—he estimated that shouldn’t take more than a couple days.

Struggling with her hat, she finally let the wind have it. The straw rim was tugged clear off her head with a violent stroke of the wind and lay wrapped about her neck, still tied by the pink satin ribbon. Head back, she looked to the sky. The sun was quickly disappearing. An electric charge hummed in the air as darkness enshrouded the countryside moments later.

He stepped forward, keeping one hand on the rim of his hat. The wind carried away the words he used to call her attention, so he walked toward her and turned her around to face him. She squealed as he spun her around.

“We need to find shelter!” He had to yell the words so they weren’t lost in the howl of the wind.

She turned away with a scowl. Clutching her elbow, he pulled her along the dirt path with him. She yanked free after a few steps.

“Don’t you dare pull me around.” She glared at him for a long moment before she knelt down to the grass to pick up a pencil she’d dropped.

A crack of thunder sounded in the next instant and a downpour of rain let loose from the heavens. He looked skyward in exasperation. This was not how he wanted to spend his morning. It was at least a half hour walk to the manor in better weather. As it was, the dirt paths would fill with mud and be too slippery for his wife to traverse in her mass of skirts.

Grasping his wife’s hand, he turned and yelled over the storm, “Pick up your skirts. We’ll make a run for my father’s old hunting cottage.” She didn’t hesitate to follow his lead this time, all her art things tucked against her bosom.

Running up to the front porch of the cottage, he lifted the latch and pushed the door open.

“Why are we stopping here?”

“Because it’ll be a mud slide over the paths to the manor. It’s the closest shelter from the fishing pond.”

She looked at him, obviously piqued. It was an expression he was quickly getting used to seeing. He’d bet his finest cravat pin that she was annoyed that her plan to escape him this morning hadn’t been successful.

She untied her shawl and shook some of the water from it in the open doorway. “I suppose we’ll only stay long enough to wait out the storm.”

She did not enter the cottage.

Taking his hat off, he wiped the water from the top and brim and set it on the worktable to dry.

“Come inside and close the door. I’ll start a fire so we can dry out our clothes.”

“We won’t be here long. The storm will leave as fast as it arrived.”

Richard looked beyond the sodden, dripping frame of Emma to the roiling black clouds shot through with flashes of white lightning. It was not going to pass anytime soon. The weather had been building in this direction all morning.

Was his company so detestable? He sighed out his frustration, and ground his teeth together. This attitude of hers was starting to grate on his nerves. She
had
locked him out of her room. Did he really expect her to act warmly toward him?

“While we’re here, we can discuss the course of last evening.”

She didn’t turn to face him as she addressed his question. “I see no reason to discuss anything.”

Smiling tightly at her audacity, he threw some peat into the hearth, struck a flint, and then lit the moss.

The wind was picking up outdoors, sweeping away any warmth the fire gave off. “Come inside, Emma. We’ll probably be here another hour.”

“I certainly hope not.”

He clenched his fists at his sides. Her penchant for disdain needed to stop.

“It won’t be the end of the world to spend an hour in my company,” he snapped.

She twirled around and finally looked at him. It was on the edge of his tongue to say she’d not escape him now and certainly not again this evening, but something held him back. They were stuck with each other for an indeterminate amount of time. He had no plans to spend that time fighting.

Loose strands of wet hair ran over her temple and stuck to the sides of her cheeks. Her lips trembled from the cold and were tinged with a slight blue. She was shivering. Knowing she’d hesitate if he asked her to come closer, he walked toward her. Her eyebrows furrowed at his approach. He reached out and released the first few hidden eyelets on her bodice.

She smacked his hands away. “Stop that this instant.”

“You won’t do it yourself. You can take off your outer layers to keep from getting a chill.”

He released a few more of the tiny hooks before she stepped away from him, her hand covering the swell of her bosom. He raised a brow and shrugged out of his jacket. Turning the wooden chair around, he draped the coat over the back and set it near the fire.

“Pass me your shawl.” He held out his hand and waited for the scrap of material.

She didn’t object, nor did her eyes meet his again. She stuck her arm out as far as she could—so she wouldn’t have to come closer to him, he assumed.

He took the wet mass of lace and spread it out on top of his coat. Of course he didn’t stop there. It wouldn’t do for his wound to start festering beneath wet, cold layers of material. His vest came off next. His gaze locked with hers for a few seconds, daring her to tell him to stop. She pinched her lips together and gave him her back.

“You can’t undress here.” Her voice wavered with the statement.

“Why not? I’m not going to sit here soaking wet and cold for God knows how long. I’d rather be dry if you don’t mind. It’ll take less time to dry if you remove your clothes, too.”

There was no mistaking his meaning. Yes, he wanted his wife naked. What sane man wouldn’t? He was more than willing to do whatever necessary to warm her, as well. The less they talked, the less they’d argue. And there were a great many things they could do that didn’t involve talking.

“Absolutely not!”

He untied his neckcloth. “Why not?”

“I’ll not undress for you. To think you’d ask such a thing in the middle of the day when anyone can happen upon us.”

“Have you never undressed for a lover during the day?” Stupid of him to ask. He didn’t want to know the answer to that. The very idea of someone encroaching on his territory—on his wife—set his teeth on edge.

“How dare you assume such a thing! I have no lover, Richard. Nor have I ever had the need for one. Why do you speak so vulgarly to me?” She wasn’t angry. She was upset. Damn it. “It shouldn’t surprise me that you think so little of me.”

How was it possible for anyone not to take a lover after twelve years? Hell, the rumor mill had made it all the way to the East with stories of his wife and the duke. There must be some truth to the whispers. Guilt for his many transgressions rose in his gut and put a bad taste in his mouth. No, she lied to save face. Lied to make him feel a cad for demanding access to her bed. Twelve years was too long to go without the touch of another.

He stepped forward, not sure what he wanted to do. Prove that he desired her as much as any other man might?

“It’s natural to assume that you would find companionship with another after our separation. That is the usual course of things for many young ladies, I’m sure.” Not that he’d had the acquaintance of many ladies. “Emma, you’re shivering and your lips are turning blue. Come over by the fire. I have no ulterior motives.”

Which was a lie, but he didn’t want her to stand half a room away shivering. As if to prove a point, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

After a short hesitation, she walked over to the fire and basked in the heat. His desire to touch her won out over his promise of no ulterior motives. He wrapped his arms around her, his chest to her back, and he worked quickly at releasing each of the clasps on her shirt. Over her shoulder, he could see the creamy, white expanse of her chest. Gooseflesh rose over the exposed parts, the pink tips of her areolas showing through the wet chemise above the uppermost edge of the corset.

Good Lord, he wanted to taste her. He brushed the back of his hand over the swell of her bosom—they were as soft as they looked. He thought about holding her captive with her hands behind her back. Thought about raising his other hand to peel the damp chemise aside, free her breast, and fill his hand with its softness. So very tempting to see what she’d do with his advances, but her posture was stiff, unwelcoming.

Forcing himself to take a step back so he wasn’t tempted to do everything he was picturing to his half-naked wife, he dropped his hands to his sides.

Willing his erection to subside seemed a hopeless venture.

“I knew I shouldn’t have come closer,” she whispered over her shoulder.

Longing filled her voice. Almost like an invitation to continue his advances despite her rigidity, despite her words of not wanting him near.

“I will not have you catching cold.”

He had to clear his throat; his voice seemed to have lowered with his heightened arousal. He left her by the fire and opened the door. Wringing out the shirt, he stood there, hoping the chilly wind would cool his rising passions. It was still black as night outdoors; the sky flashed periodically with lightning.

“You might as well take off your skirts. You’re soaked right through.”

“I’ll be fine.”

If she wasn’t in danger of becoming ill from all the dampness, he’d have left her to her own devices. For God’s sake, he was her husband. She needn’t be modest in his presence.

“The weather isn’t letting up any. Stop being stubborn, Emma, and take off your damned clothes.”

Her mouth dropped open with his demand. Had she expected him to continue begging for something that was for her well-being?

With a sigh, he sat on the edge of the cot and pulled his boots off, then untucked his shirt. He didn’t plan to wear all his clothes for much longer. He’d like to strip his shirt off, too, but he wasn’t about to show his wife the raw wound on his side or the erection straining against his smalls. He released the ties on his trousers and had to peel them from his skin.

She’d given him her back as soon as he started removing articles of clothing. Bitterness made him want to laugh.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, her pale fingers curled over each shoulder. The scoop at the back of the white chemise revealed pale skin. He wanted to push the scrap of linen off her shoulders and see what lay hidden beneath.

“The door is locked, and I’ve a craving to be filled from last night.”

Her fingers clutched tighter to her shoulders, the tips turning white with the pressure. He could see the outline of her sharp shoulder blades and was tempted to lick the droplet of water sliding down her spine. He found the ties at the back of her skirt that held the material around her waist. He worked them loose and let the heavy mass of pleated material fall to the floor. The ties for the second layer were easier to loosen, and that, too, fell to the floor.

When she didn’t respond or step out of the mess, he boldly suggested, “Take off your corset.”

If she obeyed, he knew he’d not be able to keep his hands off her. What did it matter? They were alone and he did not like to be denied by the one woman who belonged to him.