Where the Heart Chooses (3 page)

“Have I shocked you? Americans can be so
Puritanical.” She caught my wrist and pulled me to a halt, then
raised her hand and cupped my breast as I had dreamed of cupping
hers.

I leaned into her touch, suddenly unable to
take my eyes from the lush bow of her lower lip. I traced my
fingertips along the smooth curve of her neck and drew her mouth
closer to mine.

“Why does everyone on this side of the
Atlantic always assume Americans are strait-laced? We have our
share of scandals, you know.”

“Do you?” she breathed against my lips.

“The mayor’s wife ran away just last
summer.”

“Every politician’s wife seems to run away
at some time or another.”

“With another woman?” I laughed softly, and
the sound turned to a breathy moan as her lips found mine.

The kiss, tasting of champagne and
strawberries, was very different from a man’s kiss. There was no
aggression, no demand for surrender, just a teasing touch that
tempted and enticed. It lasted too long and not long enough.

Folana Fournaise stepped away from me, her
lips parted, her eyes fastened on my chest. I looked down, startled
to see the front of my gown had come undone. Although the air in
the conservatory was humid, my bared breast felt chilled, deprived
of the warmth of her hand.

And then the heat of her mouth was on me,
sucking strongly on my nipple. A tiny whimper escaped my lips. I
held her head closer, pushed my breast harder against her, shivered
at the feel of her teeth gently biting down.

A wall of greenery was at my back; it
supported my weight as I leaned against it. I raised my leg and
curled it around her thigh, opening myself to her touch, uncaring
that the action would wrinkle the material of my gown.

Folana’s hand stole beneath the hem and
wrapped around my knee, drawing my leg higher, and then her fingers
drew designs over the crotch of my silk tap pants. She made an
approving sound at how wet they were, then slid a finger under the
leg and touched me.

I shoved the heel of my hand into my mouth
and bit down so hard I knew I would leave teeth marks.

She leaned into me and replaced my hand with
her mouth, and swallowed the sounds I made while her middle finger
stroked the length of my folds. I trembled when she paused at the
top of my sex, found the knot of tissue that seemed to hold every
nerve ending in my body, and scraped it with her fingernail.

I tore my mouth out from under hers. “Don’t
toy with me, Folana!”

“Impatient.” Her laugh was strained and
changed to a moan as I stroked the palm of my hand over the
sumptuous velvet to the swell of her buttocks, then flexed my
fingers and explored the crevice that divided them. “You’re not as
cold as word would have it.”

She rubbed her finger relentlessly against
my clitoris, and I shook and gasped and came apart in her arms.

When I was finally able to straighten, I
knew I’d left strands of pale hair tangled in the branches of the
maze. I groaned.

“Poor pet,” Folana murmured against my
neck.

“No. Your turn, pet.” I spun her around and
pushed her back, then raised my skirts and dropped to my knees
before her.

She stiffened when she felt my hands on the
flesh above her stockings. “Don’t!”

I looked into her blue eyes. “I’m not a man,
Folana; I won’t hurt you.”

She shivered and remained tense. “I can’t…”
But she didn’t push me away. I moved her gown out of my way, and
then tugged down her panties, and touched my tongue to her for the
first time.

Folana hadn’t been excited by what she had
done to me, even though she had given a good impression of it.
Perhaps a bit of nonsense would relax her?

“I’m from the South, but you knew that,
didn’t you, Folana? Have you ever seen those hoop skirts the women
used to wear? Yards and yards of material…If you wore something
like that, I’d wager I could hide underneath, and do this to you.”
I licked at her and was rewarded by the first taste of her honey.
“And no one would even know.”

She moaned and parted her legs, giving me
better access.

“That’s my sweet girl.”

Her fingers kneaded my scalp restlessly. I
circled her opening with my thumb, then slid it into her sheath at
the same time I pressed my forefinger against her anus and sucked
on her clit, flicking it with my tongue. She shuddered and gave a
shrill cry, taken by surprise by her orgasm.

I rested my head on the curls that covered
her groin and breathed in the scent of her climax. Finally, I
pressed a kiss to her mound, righted her clothes, and pushed myself
to my feet.

“You were sent to seduce me, weren’t
you?”

She met my eyes. “Yes. I’m sorry.” She
raised a hand to touch my hair, which was in disarray, but let it
drop down.

“I don’t understand why.” I pulled the
bodice of my gown over my breasts and secured it, then bent to
retrieve the pins, which had held my hair in place. “I’m just an
ordinary woman.”

“A woman, yes, but ordinary?” She made a
soft, scoffing sound. “Hardly. In certain, select circles, it is
known that Sebrings will go to any lengths for their country, even
going to bed with a member of their own sex. You’re a Sebring. Sir
Joseph worked with your father during the War. He warned his
superiors that if Anthony Sebring ever found out what they were up
to, allied status or not, he would go after them.” She looked
puzzled.

Having been more or less on her own since
approximately the age of six, Folana would not know the dynamics of
a family, much less the Sebring family. Father might accept his
little girl having to do certain things for the good of the
Country. But I was still the only girl and the baby of the family.
If he deemed the actions of the men for whom Sir Joseph worked
capricious, then as clichéd as it might sound, those men would find
themselves regretting the day their fathers had ever met their
mothers.

“So all this was in aid of learning if I
would have a problem with being seduced by a woman?” I kept my tone
light, amused. I was disgusted with myself, although I refused to
let her see that. In spite of my brothers’ warnings, I had been
taken in by a pretty face and eyes filled with uncertainty. It
wouldn’t happen again, but I needed to find a way to make this work
to my advantage.

“And you don’t. Should they have sent Bart
instead?”

“Bart? Oh, your big, blond friend?”
Carefully I made the repairs to my hairdo. “It wouldn’t have
mattered, unless he refused to take ‘no’ for an answer. He isn’t my
type.”

She looked at me as if I were mad. “Women
love Bart.”

“You obviously do.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand.
Bart is just a…what the English call a ‘mate’.”

That was a telling little slip on her part.
She was supposed to be English.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’ll tell them I failed.”

“Why would you do that?”

Her expression was confused. “I have no
idea.”

Didn’t she? Had no one before given her an
orgasm? “Will they believe you were unsuccessful?” I led her out of
the maze and plucked a small posy of violets. Their scent clung to
my fingers.

“I may not be any good at sex, but I’m a
damned good liar. They’ll believe me. By the time I’m finished
spinning my tale, you’re going to have even more of a reputation
for being an ice princess.”

“Hmm.” I had no qualms about touching her
hair. I pushed a lock behind her ear and tucked the violets there.
“About not being any good at sex, Folana. You were very good for a
novice. I’d like to see you again. Whether you choose to make
love…” I used that phrase deliberately. “…with me or not.”

“Portia…” She seemed uncertain.

“There’s no need for you to make a hasty
decision. As I said, I’ll be here at least a few more months.” I
could read the uncertainty in her eyes, and I waited for her to
turn me down.

“If you…if you don’t mind waiting?”

“Not in the least.” Was she going to agree
to it? The possibility caused a flutter low in my belly.

“Then thank you. I think I’d like that
too.”

* * * *

I’d been seeing her almost every evening for
the past week, but always in a crowd, always surrounded by
interested onlookers.

Now she had selected this place for us to
meet.

I stood at the back of the cinema. At this
time of the day, it was almost empty.

On the screen were flickering images in
black and white. Celia Johnson was telling Trevor Howard how easy
it was to lie when you knew you were trusted without reserve, how
very easy and how very degrading.

Poor woman. She would never have survived in
the intelligence community.

My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and
I spotted Folana sitting at the far end of the row, four rows down.
There was no one this far back to question my choice in that spot,
when there was the entire theatre available. I dropped into the
seat beside her.

She turned her face slightly toward me and
smiled, her hand reaching for mine. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Someone was following me. I had to make
sure I didn’t lose him.”

“I don’t understand. Surely you’d want to
lose him?”

If I did, they would know I was aware of
their actions. They would send someone else to shadow me, and it
would take time to figure out who it was. “Oh, dear. That was
foolish of me, wasn’t it?” And if he was replaced at this point, I
would know exactly how much I could trust her. “Why did you choose
this movie?”

Her shoulders shifted under the bomber
jacket that was loosely draped over them, a marked difference from
the furs she wore in the evening. “Bart told me
Brief
Encounter
was playing here when I mentioned I was going to take
in a film with a friend and had no idea what to go see.”

All that sexual tension, with nowhere to
go.

Rather like us.

I had seen
Brief Encounter
before.
Mother loved this type of movie and insisted on company whenever
she watched it. Even though my brothers weren’t excused—Mother had
announced that since they’d have to accompany their lady friends to
the movies, they needed to learn how to sit through a tearjerker
without displaying an ounce of condescension—I was the one usually
“volunteered.”

Folana noticed my distraction. Before I
realized what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed me. Her
lips were soft and warm, and the caress was tentative. Desire
pooled deep inside me and heat seemed to radiate off me.

She gave a soft sigh and turned her
attention back to the screen.

But her hand had dropped to my groin and her
fingers were absently rubbing the inseam of the Capri slacks I had
chosen to wear on this mild winter day.

My head dropped back and my eyes closed, and
while Celia and Trevor desperately searched for a place to share
their bliss, I found mine.

* * * *

“Miss Portia, Lady Portia wishes to see you
in the Egyptian salon.”

“Thank you, Ackerman.” I smiled at the man
who took care of the Creighton household and went to the room on
the first floor.

My godmother stood by the front windows,
staring pensively out as the late morning sun lit the square across
the road. Despite her years, she was still an attractive woman,
with any number of men willing to face Lord Creighton’s wrath in an
attempt to win her. Not that she would give any of them the time of
day.

“Yes, Lady Portia?”

“I’ve just received word from John.”

Viscount Creighton had properties in West
Africa, and he spent much of his time there. The only reason Lady
Portia wasn’t with him now was because of me.

“Yes, Lady Portia?”

“He wants Jack to join him in Africa as soon
as can be arranged.” She and Lord Creighton had one son. When I’d
first come to stay with her, I’d been thrown into Jack’s company
quite a bit. He was attentive and charming, a very handsome man,
tall, with his father’s broad forehead, jet black hair, and gray
eyes, and a body that must have tempted many a debutante, although
not me.

“Did you wish to accompany Jack? I can pack
at once and move to the Savoy…”

“Not at all, my dear. While I have a number
of fond memories of Africa—it’s where John and I met, you know—I
must tell you that the secret to a happy marriage is occasionally
putting some distance between yourself and your spouse.”

I thought that was sad, but I knew Mother
felt the same way. She would often travel with friends to New York
or Boston for the shows and arts and shopping, but very rarely if
ever did Father accompany her.

“I could ask Jack to stay longer. I’m sure
his father wouldn’t mind a trifling delay.”

“There’s no need to discommode Lord
Creighton, and I’m sure Jack is anxious to join him.”

“Portia…” My godmother fiddled with the
bangles on her bracelet. “John and I lost our own dear little girl
years ago.” That startled me. I’d thought Jack was their only
child. She smiled wistfully. “If things had developed otherwise, I
should have liked nothing better than to call you ‘daughter.’”

I’d had the suspicion that our mothers were
attempting a bit of matchmaking, and while, if it had proved
necessary, I would have wed him, I was grateful it wasn’t
necessary.

I went to her and hugged her, something I
would never have done with Mother. “Will we be going to the theater
tonight?”

Lady Portia sighed but allowed me to change
the topic, and the rest of the afternoon was spent in discussing
who would be there and what we would wear.

* * * *

The social season ended, and Lady Portia
prepared to take me throughout the country on a round of house
parties that would occupy the months until Parliament sat again.
There would be fox hunting, teas, and visits, and in the evenings,
tiptoeing down the corridors at night to slip into a different
bedroom.