Tis the Season to Be Sinful (20 page)
Juliet’s breath caught. She felt his warm breath on her hair as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on her temple. She squirmed, trying to get closer to him. “What sort of treat?”
“Let me into your bed tonight and I’ll show you,” he said, his voice tight and urgent.
All manner of sensual images invaded her mind. The delectable sight of Richard’s broad shoulders, muscular chest, and lean belly bathed in candlelight. The hot, masculine scent of his skin, the intoxicating sound of his deep groan when she stroked his body, the shivering excitement of feeling his breath bellowing against her temple.
The way his lips met hers in a whispered kiss. The feel of his strong hands on her bare skin, the feathery touch making every nerve flare with desire. The heavenly torture, the restless urgency that filled her as he kissed her lips, caressed her breasts, teased her nipples.
The pleasing weight of him on top of her, the fullness that seemed to touch her very soul as he thrust inside her welcoming warmth.
Juliet closed her eyes for a second. “The condoms . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“I’ll leave them in my chamber.” His lips traveled down her neck, making her pulse race, her blood heat. “There are other ways to bring each other pleasure.”
More erotic images appeared—passionate, fiery, all-consuming. Juliet blushed furiously. “I . . . uhm . . . yes.”
Richard smiled with obvious relief.
Had he really thought she would refuse him?
They walked quickly to her bedchamber. She dismissed her maid the moment they entered her room, hardly caring when she caught a glimpse of the servant’s knowing smirk.
Had he really thought she would refuse him?
They walked quickly to her bedchamber. She dismissed her maid the moment they entered her room, hardly caring when she caught a glimpse of the servant’s knowing smirk.
Juliet walked to her dressing table. With trembling hands she began removing the pins from her hair. Behind her she could hear Richard’s rustling movements. She glanced in the mirror and saw him tug at his cravat, then shrug out of his coat and waistcoat, tossing the garments on the carpet. His shirt, trousers, and smallclothes followed next.
Oh my, he was in a hurry.
“Let me help you,” he said as he came to stand behind her.
His fingers nimbly undid the buttons down the back of her gown. In short order he removed her dress, stockings, and undergarments. Her eyes helplessly followed his movements. Soon no cloth separated them as they both stood naked.
Juliet twisted her head to gaze at him. Reaching out, he cradled her face between his hands. His eyes were smoldering. Swallowing self-consciously, she held tightly to his arm.
These moments were something that needed to be cherished. Once the holidays were over, Richard would return to London, perhaps for several months. The thought distressed her, but Juliet pushed it aside. He was here tonight and he wanted her, nearly as much as she desired him.
And if things between them improved, who knows what might happen? Maybe he would stay longer, or better still, not leave at all.
Turning, she pressed her naked breasts against his bared chest. The delicious warmth felt so marvelous. Sighing, Juliet wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, running her hands up and down his back.
She was about to suggest they go to her bed when Richard bent and slid one arm beneath her knees. Straightening, he lifted her in his arms and carried her across the chamber. She could not see his face in the darkness, but caught the gleam of his teeth. It was good to know he was smiling.
He laid her atop the silk coverlet, lit the candle on her night table, and then stretched out beside her. She felt a burst of joy at the way he looked at her with such blatant delight. No matter what happened between them, she could never doubt his passion and desire for her.
Richard brushed a kiss on her cheek, then moved lower, onto her shoulder. While he kissed her, his hands roamed over her heated flesh. He touched her everywhere, as though he couldn’t get enough of her. Not just with his fingers, but with his lips and teeth and tongue. Before long she was writhing on the bed and then she could feel his hands on her inner thighs, pressing her legs apart.
He trailed a line of wet kisses over her belly. Her thigh muscles quivered as he went lower. She had an inkling of what he wanted to do. Modestly, she resisted, feeling awkward and exposed. “Richard, please, I’m not sure . . .”
“Shh, it’s all right, Juliet. Just let me.”
He moved his fingers along the inside of her thigh, brushing against the curls between her legs. Slowly her resistance faded and she allowed herself to relax, to surrender herself completely to him.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited breathlessly. His hands went to her hips, holding her down. Juliet whimpered as a smoldering fire of anticipation began to burn. He began to lick her softly on her inner thigh, then paused and blew a gentle breath, leaving delicate thrills of sensation.
He continued with this torture, a lazy, unhurried exploration of her body. With each kiss, he drew closer and closer to the center of her womanhood. Juliet could feel her body coming alive. She sighed and squirmed, arching against him, eager for his touch, desperate for the release his sensual lips promised.
“Richard, please,” she panted, quivering in anticipation.
“Whatever you want, my dearest,” he murmured.
Deliberately grazing her tender flesh with the stubble of his jaw, Richard moved his head and slid the tip of his tongue into her heated folds.
She nearly lost her mind. Juliet laced her fingers in his hair, unsure whether to push him away or pull him close. Then his tongue circled the tiny bud and she screamed with unrestrained lust, arching forward for more. A wave of pleasure rippled through her body as Juliet surrendered completely to the moment.
She was moist and swollen, teetering on the edge of fulfillment. Flicking his tongue up and down and in and out, he licked her harder, letting her feel the full stroke of his tongue.
Whimpering, writhing, Juliet moved her hips against his mouth, needing just a touch more pressure. There. And there. Seeming to understand her frustration, Richard slid his hands underneath her bottom and pulled her closer, feasting on her quivering flesh.
It broke her. She sobbed out his name as the spasms took her, her thighs quivering in passion and abandon as her climax overtook her entire being. He stayed with her until the final tremor, his kisses gradually becoming softer, gentler.
Sated, Juliet lay boneless on the mattress, exhausted and pleasured. Eventually her heavy, unsteady breathing grew quiet. Rousing herself from her contentment, Juliet turned to Richard. His eyes were bright, the delight reflected in them obvious. “Feel satisfied?”
Juliet felt herself blush. Her wanton abandon was hardly the behavior of a lady. Letting out a soft sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a voluptuous kiss. He returned it with eager enthusiasm, and she could feel the evidence of his desire thrusting hard against the softness of her belly.
Smiling, Juliet trailed her hand down Richard’s side, tracing his waist with her fingertips, teasingly brushing his ridged stomach with her palm. He moaned and shifted so she could reach lower, guiding her hand eagerly to his erection.
Wrapping her hand around its full length, she gave it an experimental squeeze.
“Damn, Juliet!” His body jerked off the mattress.
“Shh, Richard. It’s all right. Just let me.”
Juliet laughed as she repeated the words he had spoken to her moments before. She reached for him again, sighing when she found what she sought. Closing her eyes, she held his penis, stroking its smoothness, enjoying utterly the weight and feel of it in her hands.
She caressed him with her thumb and forefinger, lingering over each sensitive spot when he moaned. Covering his muscular chest with breathy, fluttering kisses, she blazed a path from his throat to his navel. His penis grew even larger, a drop of moisture appearing at the tip.
Licking her lips, Juliet moved to take him in her mouth and bring him to completion, but she soon learned that he had something else in mind.
“Like this,” he whispered.
Placing a hand on her shoulder, he pressed her back against the bed. She blinked in confusion, but then he kissed the hollow at the base of her throat and her mind whirled. She struggled not to close her eyes. She wanted to watch him, to see everything he felt reflected in his startling blue eyes.
Straddling her waist, Richard adjusted his position until he sat on her upper stomach. He nudged his erection toward her breasts and suddenly she knew what he intended.
“This, my darling. Is it this what you crave?” she asked in a husky voice, the excitement of the act reawakening her own desire.
Reaching up, Juliet cupped her breasts and pressed them together, the round flesh creating a most inviting crease. They stared into one another’s eyes, both breathing hard. Her nipples pebbled, growing tight with anticipation. His hands roamed possessively over them and soon her moans were mingling with his.
A fine sheen of perspiration had broken out on his brow, and she could see him struggling to maintain control. Juliet watched out of dazed eyes as he thrust forward. She couldn’t believe how sensual it felt. His body, taut and hard, pressing itself frantically into the softness of her breasts, his eyes clouded with passion.
She could feel his need, hot and urgent, as he thrust harder, faster. His ballocks slapped at her ribs, creating a wildly erotic and stimulating feeling deep inside her. Juliet could hear the sounds of her own rapid pants mingling with his as he soared closer to release.
The tension built and climbed and then suddenly Richard gave a hoarse shout and started shuddering. Juliet cried out, too, as she felt the hot liquid surge of his climax spurt over her flesh. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, wanting to tell him she loved him, but she bit back the words, fearing he would not welcome them.
He rested on top of her for a few moments, their ragged breaths the only sound in the room. Then he eased away and rolled onto his back. Her body felt cool, lonely. Juliet turned to embrace him, but Richard had already risen from the bed.
He walked to the far side of the room, and she could hear him cleaning himself at the washbasin. When he was done, he returned to the bed. Producing a warm, wet cloth, Richard gently wiped his essence from her body, pressing slow kisses on her shoulders and neck as he worked.
With a flick of the wrist, he tossed the cloth across the room. It landed with a loud
plop
inside the basin.
plop
inside the basin.
“Have I mentioned that I find you an extraordinary and exciting female?” he said, stretching out beside her.
“No, you have not.” Juliet stared up at the ceiling. “But you have done far better than say it. You have shown it.”
He rolled to his side, facing her. “I adore how I cannot shock you. At least not yet. I imagine I shall have to try harder in the future.”
Her heart stumbled inside her chest, and she continued to gaze at the ceiling. “My eagerness in bed does not offend you?”
“Not in the least.”
She looked over at him and then slowly closed her eyes. “Truly?”
“Juliet, your passion humbles me. I find it nothing short of amazing that you do not feel self-conscious over your desire, and I fervently hope that will continue. Truthfully, my fondest wish is that you continue to grow ever bolder and more inventive.”
His fondest wish? Gracious!
She knew on some level she should be offended by such a statement, but she appreciated his honesty. “I want our relationship to be more than sex,” she blurted out.
She knew on some level she should be offended by such a statement, but she appreciated his honesty. “I want our relationship to be more than sex,” she blurted out.
“So do I.” His voice was barely a whisper.
Emotion thickened her throat. She did not doubt his sincerity. But his words did not bring her the sense of peace she craved. It was all well and good to want something, but achieving it was another matter entirely.
Chapter 12
An hour after the intense relief of his climax had faded, Richard lay beside Juliet in her bed, watching her openly as she slept. Her hands rested near her face, her fingers curled into loose fists. The covers were bunched around her waist, and he could distinctly see the soft curves of her body beneath the nightgown she now wore.
His body stirred. Biting back a groan, Richard forced his gaze to the ceiling. He remembered the taste of her creamy skin on his tongue, the delicate weight of her breasts in his hands, the enticing sound of her breath hitched in pleasure when her desire peaked.
He had been sexually satisfied tonight, but he wanted more. The realization made him feel unaccountably vulnerable. He had planned this marriage to be like a business partnership, but it was fast becoming obvious that this was far from an unemotional arrangement.
On both sides.
Richard could see that as much as she relished these encounters, it wasn’t just sex for Juliet. It was more than the mechanics of physical enjoyment; there was emotional commitment, a depth to her participation that hinted at her feelings.
Did she love him? The very idea gave him a selfish moment of joy. For was that not what every man craved—the love and devotion of his wife?
Yet what of his love, his emotions? Richard grimaced. He admitted that he had feelings for her. Love? No, he didn’t think that defined what he felt, and it bothered him. He honestly didn’t want to hurt her. Just the opposite, really.
He wanted to care for her, protect her, make her happy. The only way he knew how to do that was by continuing to make money, to be a successful and important businessman. Such tasks required nearly all of his focus and attention; he could not be distracted by sentiment or emotion. Yet sentiment and emotions were what Juliet craved.
She made a soft, contented sound and moved instinctively toward him, no doubt seeking his warmth. His chest burned with a bolt of tenderness, followed swiftly by a dose of fear. Could he do it? Was he capable of bringing her the happiness she deserved?
Frowning, he gazed down at her, struck anew by this quandary. Something about Juliet called to him in a way that he never expected. Would he be able to answer that call in the way she wanted? And what of her children? Could he open his heart and embrace them as she wished?
Confused, Richard tore himself from the warm bed. Shivering in the cool night air, he scooped up his scattered garments and walked soundlessly to his own bedchamber.
Once there, it quickly became evident that he was unable to fall asleep. Cozying up in front of the dying fire, Richard gradually and methodically downed an entire bottle of whiskey, a foolish notion he regretted immediately upon waking the next morning.
The bright sunshine hurt his eyes, the taste in his mouth was foul beyond words, and his head ached all the way down to his scalp. Gingerly swinging his feet out of the bed, Richard waited for the room to cease spinning before standing.
The bedchamber door swung open.
Hallet, no doubt.
Richard closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. When he opened them, instead of his valet, he saw George standing at the foot of the bed.
Hallet, no doubt.
Richard closed his eyes, trying to clear his head. When he opened them, instead of his valet, he saw George standing at the foot of the bed.
“You couldn’t wait until I came downstairs for breakfast?” Richard growled.
“At this hour?” George dropped into a chair by the fire. “Since you are lord and master, I assume Cook will obediently prepare whatever you desire, be it eggs or kippers. However, breakfast was over hours ago and luncheon will be served fairly soon.”
“What?” Richard fumbled for his watch on the bedside table. Consulting it with bleary eyes, he was shocked to see that George was correct. It was well past noon. “Why didn’t someone wake me?”
“I believe your valet tried. More than once. As did your wife.” George grinned. “Apparently neither was successful.”
Richard frowned at his friend’s cheerful good humor, but the gesture made his head hurt even more. Stumbling into the bathing chamber, Richard poured the contents of the water pitcher into the porcelain basin, and then thrust his head inside, fully submerging it underwater.
Annoyed that the liquid was still warm—thanks to his ever efficient valet—Richard pulled his head out, feeling only slightly better. Ignoring the pounding in his head, he reached for a towel. After drying his hair, he proceeded to wash and shave, returning to his bedchamber badly in need of a strong cup of coffee.
Unfortunately, all that awaited him there was George. Irritated, Richard yanked on the bell pull. Hallet arrived within minutes.
“Shall I bring Lord George some breakfast also?” the valet asked after Richard had given him instructions.
“No,” Richard insisted.
“Yes,” George replied.
The men answered simultaneously. Hallet gave Richard a neutral smile and waited.
“Bring a very large pot of coffee and an extra cup for Lord George,” Richard finally compromised.
“Very good, sir,” Hallet replied.
“You’re in a miserable temper today,” George commented. “Are you concerned about Dixon’s visit?”
“No,” Richard lied.
“You shouldn’t be, you know.”
“I said that I was not concerned.”
“Yes, but you were lying.” George stretched his legs out, crossing his ankles. “I predict within a half hour of Dixon’s arrival you will both be locked away in your study, arguing the finer points of a partnership. We shall all be lucky if we see you emerge for supper.”
“Cease exaggerating, George. I won’t be spending that much time exclusively with Dixon. This is supposed to be a holiday for him and his wife. A time for them to enjoy the festive mood of a country Christmas.”
“Hmm, now that will be a feat worth watching. Richard Harper projecting a festive, holiday mood. Leading the Christmas carols, trimming the tree, dancing a country reel.”
Before Richard could reply, a soft knock came at the door. At his call, Hallet entered the room, a silver tray in his hands. He set it on a small table near the window and then retreated to the dressing room.
His headache now reduced to a dull pounding, Richard found himself fully appreciating his valet’s silent, unobtrusive movements. Now if he could only get George to shut up, he might start feeling human again.
Richard poured himself a cup of hot coffee. He hastily stirred in a heaping spoonful of sugar, then lifted it to his lips and took a long swallow.
The sharp, unpleasant tang burst into his mouth, so unexpectedly it nearly choked him. Leaning over the tray, he spat out the foul brew, soaking the toast on the plate.
“Christ, Richard, what’s wrong?” George asked, sitting up in shock.
Richard shook his head, unable to answer. His tongue burned; his mouth felt like straw. Helplessly he broke off a corner of toast that was still dry and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, waiting for the foul taste to diminish.
“Take a sip of your coffee,” he croaked after swallowing.
George glanced at him warily. Gingerly, he lifted the delicate china cup and took a small sip. Richard watched his friend closely, waiting for a reaction.
George shrugged. “A bit hot, but it tastes fine.”
Frowning, Richard grabbed George’s cup and sniffed suspiciously. He dipped his index finger in the dark brew, placing a drop of it on his tongue. A familiar bitterness spread through his mouth. Coffee. Unsweetened coffee.
Puzzled, Richard stared at the tray. His eyes fell on the sugar bowl and understanding dawned. George drank his coffee black. Pinching a few of the granules nestled inside the silver sugar bowl between his thumb and forefinger, Richard brought them to his lips.
Salt. Oh, hell.
Salt. Oh, hell.
“It appears the boys have struck again,” Richard explained.
Wordlessly, George surrendered his coffee cup and Richard gulped down the contents. Unsweetened was far better than salty.
“I had a feeling your mishap in the woods yesterday wasn’t exactly an accident,” George said sympathetically. “What happened with the boys?”
“Edward and James led me to the oak trees and then disappeared when I climbed up to retrieve the mistletoe,” Richard admitted.
“How did you ever find your way back?”
“Sheer luck,” Richard replied honestly, wondering why he had the most ridiculous urge to grin. He suppressed it, because it made his head hurt. “And I simply couldn’t tolerate the idea of being bested by two young boys.”
“I remember when my brother and I went through a similar phase with my father,” George mused. “Those were happy times. Glue on his study chair, which ruined his favorite riding breeches. A lizard in his bed, who decided the best place to burrow was in his lap, creating screams and shouts that scared the maids half to death. Smearing grease on the oak banister, watering down his brandy.”
George leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “And on one occasion when we were both particularly distressed, forgoing the water and using another, uhm, bodily fluid to dilute the spirits.”
“Damn.” Richard’s stomach roiled at the very thought. “You pissed into the brandy?”
“Directly into the crystal decanter, without spilling a drop on the rug.” George’s eyes narrowed with fondness. “It was a proud moment for both of us.”
“What did your father do about it?”
“As best we could tell, he never found out about the brandy.” George’s lips twitched slightly. “As for the rest of it, he’d give an account of the latest mishap during the half hour we saw him each day before our supper, always wondering out loud who might have been responsible for such dastardly pranks. But he never asked us about any of them directly nor accused us of the misdeeds.
“He always seemed amused by our antics and that in turn sparked our imaginations. We spent many a restless night devising outrageous stunts, planning new strategies. Gradually, we came to realize that he actually looked forward to seeing what we could devise, something he only admitted years later was true.”
“When did you finally stop with that nonsense?”
“Soon after my brother Lawrence was sent away to school. It was far more difficult and not nearly as much fun trying to pull the pranks on my own.”
Richard poured himself another cup of coffee. “Well, I do not find this amusing in any way.”
George’s grin widened. “Then I propose retaliation as the best method of stopping the pranks. I’m sure we can find some terrifying bugs somewhere. A creepy, crawling, black insect on a clean white counterpane is enough to incite terror in even the hardiest of boys. Or maybe a few handfuls of crumbs between the sheets. That will bring an army of ants in no time.”
Damn. This was untenable! Richard rubbed the back of his neck. He was not about to engage in a battle with Juliet’s sons. Especially when he had such important business matters to attend.
“I’m going to ignore these antics,” Richard declared. “It’s clear that their purpose is to display their displeasure with me and cause me grief. If I deny Edward and James the satisfaction of seeing me upset or angry, the prank has essentially failed.”
George waved a hand. “A fatal mistake. It seems to me the lads will only increase their efforts if you ignore them.”
“A risk I am willing to take,” Richard retorted, secretly worried his friend might be right. “However, if that doesn’t work, I can always ship Edward off to school. Separating the pair could be the answer.”
“Seems a might cruel,” George mused. “He’ll be going soon enough, once he turns twelve.”
Richard shrugged. He pulled on the charcoal gray trousers and white shirt that Hallet had set out on the bed. Pranks temporarily forgotten, Richard finished dressing, then thrust his right foot into his favorite black leather shoe.
Stiffening, Richard closed his eyes. There was wet muck surrounding his foot all the way up to the ankle. Soft, oozing, and squishy. “Shit!”
“Now what?” George shot him a concerned look.
“Something has been put in my shoe, something that most definitely does not belong.” Richard winced. “It’s wet and soft with a decidedly mushy consistency.”
“Hell.” George gingerly leaned closer before taking a deep sniff. “I don’t smell anything foul.”
“Thank heavens for small mercies.” Richard drew himself upright. “Take a look inside the other shoe and tell me what you see.”
Looking none too pleased at the request, George obligingly retrieved Richard’s other shoe and examined it closely. Richard held his breath and waited.
“Oatmeal,” George announced.
“Little ruffians.” Richard relaxed slightly. It wasn’t manure. That was something at least, he thought.
“Are you sure it wasn’t Hallet who placed the oatmeal inside?” George asked as he carefully returned the shoe to the rug. “You do give your valet fits over your lack of fashion sense. Have you ever noticed how his shoulders bend and his head remains down when you refuse his wardrobe advice?”
Richard made an exasperated noise. “Hallet enjoys the constant challenge of trying to improve me, along with the outrageous salary I pay him. He’d dress me like a dandy if I allowed it. Besides, he is the person who will now be charged with trying to clean this mess. A job I do not envy.”
Other books
Dead of Winter by Kealan Patrick Burke
Moving Pictures by Schulberg
The Manning Grooms by Debbie Macomber
Holiday House Parties by Mansfield, Elizabeth;
Hard to Hold by Incy Black
The Eternity Cure by Julie Kagawa
Crave the Darkness by Amanda Bonilla
Más allá del planeta silencioso by C. S. Lewis
Murder in Mount Holly by Paul Theroux
Embers of War by Fredrik Logevall
