by Lisa Kleypas
“Wait, you’ll hurt yourself. I have the key. Just be still and let me—”
“Did you ask him to do this?” he asked with a snarl as she climbed onto the bed beside him.
“No,” she said at once, then felt scarlet color flooding her cheeks. “Not exactly. I only said I wished—” She broke off and bit her lip. “He told me about your betrothal to Cousin Julianne, you see, and I—” Continuing to blush, she crawled over him to reach the lock of the handcuffs. The delicate shape of her breast brushed over his chest, and Andrew’s entire body jerked as if he had been burned. To Caroline’s dismay, the key dropped from her fingers and fell between the mattress and the headboard. “Do be still,” she said, keeping her gaze from his face as she levered her body farther over his and fumbled for the key. It was not easy avoiding eye contact with him when their faces were so close. The brawny mass of his body was hard and unmoving beneath her. She heard his breathing change, turning deep and quick as she strained to retrieve the key.
Her fingertips curled around the key and pried it free of the mattress. “I’ve got it,” she murmured, risking a glance at him.
Andrew’s eyes were closed, his nose and mouth almost touching the curve of her breast. He seemed to be absorbing her scent, savoring it with peculiar intensity, as if he were a condemned man being offered his last meal.
“Andrew?” she whispered in painful confusion.
His expression became closed and hard, his blue eyes opaque. “Unlock these damned things!” He rattled the chain that linked the cuffs. The noise startled her, jangled across her raw nerves. She saw the deep gouges the chain links had left on the solid rosewood, but despite the relentless tugging and sawing, the wood had so far resisted the grating metal.
Her gaze dropped to the key in her hand. Instead of using it to unlock the handcuffs, she closed her fingers around it. Terrible, wicked thoughts formed in her mind. The right thing to do would be to set Andrew free as quickly as possible. But for the first time in her entire sedate, seemly life, she did not want to do what was right.
“Before I let you go,” she said in a low voice that did not quite sound like her own, “I would like the answer to one question. Why did you throw me aside in favor of Julianne?”
He continued to look at her with that arctic gaze. “I’ll be damned if I’ll answer any questions while I’m chained to a bed.”
“And if I set you free? Will you answer me then?”
“No.”
She searched his eyes for any sign of the man she had come to love, the Andrew who had been amusing, self-mocking, tender. There was nothing but bitterness in the depths of frozen blue, as if he had lost all feeling for her, himself, and everything that mattered. It would take something catastrophic to reach inside this implacable stranger.
“Why Julianne?” she persisted. “You said the affair with her was not worth remembering. Was that a lie? Have you decided that she can offer you something more, something better, than I can?”
“She is a better match for me than you could ever be.”
Suddenly it hurt to breathe. “Because she is more beautiful? More passionate?” she forced herself to ask.
Andrew tried to form the word yes, but it would not leave his lips. He settled for a single jerking nod.
That motion should have destroyed her, for it confirmed every self-doubt she had ever possessed. But the look on Andrew’s face . . . the twitch of his jaw, the odd glaze of his eyes . . . for a split second he seemed to be caught in a moment of pure agony. And there could be only one reason why.
“You’re lying,” she whispered.
“No, I’m not.”
All at once Caroline gave rein to the desperate impulses that swirled in her head. She was a woman with nothing to lose. “Then I will prove you wrong,” she said unsteadily. “I will prove that I can give you a hundred times more satisfaction than Julianne.”
“How?”
“I am going to make love to you,” she said, sitting up beside him. Her trembling fingers went to the neck of her gown, and she began working the knotted silk loops that fastened the front of her bodice. “Right now, on this bed, while you are helpless to prevent it. And I won’t stop until you admit that you are lying. I’ll have an explanation out of you, my lord, one way or another.”
Clearly she had surprised him. She knew that he had never expected such feminine aggression from a respectable spinster. “You wouldn’t have the damn nerve,” he said softly.
Well, that sealed his fate. She certainly could not back down after such a challenge. Resolutely Caroline continued on the silk fastenings until the front of her velvet gown gaped open to reveal her thin muslin chemise. A feeling of unreality settled over her as she pulled her arms from one sleeve, then the other. In all her adult life, she had never undressed in front of anyone. Goose bumps rose on her skin, and she rubbed her bare upper arms. The chemise provided so little covering that she might as well have been naked.
She would not have been surprised had Andrew decided to mock her, but he did not seem amused or angry at her display. He seemed . . . fascinated. His gaze slid over her body, lingered at the rose-tinted shadows of her nipples, then returned to her face. “That’s enough,” he muttered. “Much as I enjoy the view, there is no point to this.”
“I disagree.” She slid off the bed and pushed the heavy gown to the floor, where it lay in a soft heap. Standing in her chemise and drawers, she tried to still the chattering of her teeth. “I am going to make you talk to me, my lord, no matter what it takes. Before I’m through, I’ll have you babbling like an idiot.”
His breath caught with an incredulous laugh. The sound heartened her, for it seemed to make him more human and less a frozen stranger. “In the first place, I’m not worth the effort. Second, you don’t know what the hell you’re doing, which throws your plans very much in doubt.”
“I know enough,” she said with false bravado. “Sexual intercourse is merely a matter of mechanics . . . and even in my inexperience, I believe I can figure out what goes where.”
“It is not merely a matter of mechanics.” He tugged at the handcuffs with a new urgency, his face suddenly contorted with . . . fear? . . . concern? “Damn it, Caroline. I admire your determination, but you have to stop this now, do you understand? You’re going to cause yourself nothing but pain and frustration. You deserve better than to have your first experience turn out badly. Let me go, you bloody stubborn witch!”
The flare of desperate fury pleased her. It meant that she was breaking through the walls he had tried to construct between them, leaving him vulnerable to further assault.
“You may scream all you like,” she said. “There is no one to hear you.”
She crawled onto the bed, while his entire body went rigid.
“You’re a fool if you think that I’m going to cooperate,” he said between clenched teeth.
“I think that before long you will cooperate with great enthusiasm.” Caroline took perverse delight in becoming cooler and calmer as he became more irate. “After all, you haven’t had a woman in . . . how many months? At least three. Even if I lack the appropriate skills, I will be able to do as I like with you.”
“What about Julianne?” His arms bulged with heavy muscle as he pulled at the handcuffs. “I could have had her a hundred times by now, for all you know.”
“You haven’t,” she said. “You aren’t attracted to her—that was evident when I saw the two of you together.”
She began on the tight binding of his cravat, unwinding the damp, starch-scented cloth that still contained the heat of his skin. When his long golden throat was revealed, she touched the triangular hollow at the base with a gentle fingertip. “That’s better,” she said softly. “Now you can breathe.”
He was indeed breathing, with the force of a man who had just run ten miles without stopping. His gaze fixed on hers, no longer cold, but gleaming with fury. “Stop it. I warn you, Caroline, stop now.”
“Or what? What cou
ld you possibly do to punish me that would be worse than what you’ve already done?” Her fingers went to the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, and she released them in rapid succession. She spread the edges of his garments wide, baring a remarkably muscular torso. The sight of his body, all that ferocious power rendered helpless before her, was awe-inspiring.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said. “You knew from the beginning that our relationship was just a pretense.”
“Yes. But it became something else, and you and I both know it.” Gently she touched the thick curls that covered his chest, her fingertips delving to the burning skin beneath. He jumped at the brush of her cool hand, the breath hissing between his teeth. How often she had dreamed of doing this, exploring his body, caressing him. The surface of his stomach was laced with tight muscles, so different from the smooth softness of her own. She stroked the taut golden skin, so hard and silken beneath her hand. “Tell me why you would marry Julianne when you’ve fallen in love with me.”
“I . . . haven’t,” he managed to choke out. “Can’t you get it th-through your stubborn head—”
His words ended in a harsh groan as she straddled him in a decisive motion, their loins separated only by the layers of his trousers and her gossamer-thin drawers. Flushed and determined, Caroline sat atop him in a completely wanton posture. She felt the protrusion of his sex nestle into the cleft between her thighs. The lascivious pressure of him against that intimate part of her body caused a silken ripple of heat all through her. She shifted her weight until he nudged right against her most sensitive area, a little peak that throbbed frantically at his nearness.
“All right,” he said in a gasp, holding completely still. “All right, I admit it . . . I love you, damned tormenting bitch—now get off of me!”
“Marry me,” she insisted. “Promise that you’ll break off the betrothal to my cousin.”
“No.”
Caroline reached up to her hair, pulling the pins loose, letting the rippling brown locks cascade down to her waist. He had never seen her hair down before, and his imprisoned fingers twitched as if he ached to touch her.
“I love you,” she said, stroking the furry expanse of his chest, flattening her palm over the thundering rhythm of his heart. The textures of his body—rough silk, hard muscle, bone, and sinew—fascinated her. She wanted to kiss and stroke him everywhere. “We belong together. There should be no obstacles between us, Andrew.”
“Love doesn’t make a damn bit of difference,” he almost snarled. “Idealistic little fool—”
His breath snagged in his throat as she grasped the hem of her chemise, pulled it over her head, and tossed the whisper-thin garment aside. Her upper body was completely naked, the small, firm globes of her breasts bouncing delicately, pink tips contracting in the cool air. He stared at her breasts without blinking, and his eyes gleamed with wolfish hunger before he turned his face away.
“Would you like to kiss them?” Caroline whispered, hardly daring to believe her own brazenness. “I know that you’ve imagined this, Andrew, just as I have.” She leaned over him, brushing her nipples against his chest, and he quivered at the shock of their flesh meeting. He kept his face turned away, his mouth taut, his breath coming in hard gusts. “Kiss me,” she urged. “Kiss me just once, Andrew. Please. I need you . . . need to taste you . . . kiss me the way I’ve dreamed about for so long.”
A deep groan vibrated within his chest. His mouth lifted, searching for hers. She pressed her lips over his, her tongue slipping daintily into his hot, sweet mouth. Ardently she molded her body against his, wrapped her arms around his head, kissed him again and again. She touched his shackled wrists, her fingertips brushing his palms. He muttered frantically against her throat, “Yes . . . yes . . . let me go, Caroline . . . the key . . .”
“No.” She moved higher on his chest, dragging her feverish mouth over the salt-flavored skin of his throat. “Not yet.”
His mouth searched the tender place where her neck met the curve of her shoulder, and she wriggled against him, wanting more, her body filled with a craving that she could not seem to satisfy. She levered herself higher, higher, until almost by accident her nipple brushed the edge of his jaw. He seized it immediately, his mouth opening over the tender crest and drawing it deep inside. His tongue circled the delicate peak and feathered it with rapid, tiny strokes. For a long time he sucked and licked, until Caroline moaned imploringly. His mouth released the rosy nipple, his tongue caressing it with one last swipe.
“Give me the other one,” he said in a rasping whisper. “Put it in my mouth.”
Trembling, she obeyed, guiding her breast to his lips. He feasted on her eagerly, and she gasped at the sensation of being captured by his mouth, held by its heat and urgency. Exquisite tension gathered between her wide-open thighs. She writhed, undulated, pressed as close to him as possible, but it was not close enough. She wanted to be filled by him, crushed and ravished and possessed. “Andrew,” she said, her voice low and raw. “I want you . . . I want you so badly I could die of it. Let me . . . let me . . .” She took her breast from his mouth and kissed him again, and reached frantically down to the huge, bulging shape beneath the front of his trousers.
“No,” she heard him say hoarsely, but she unfastened his trousers with unsteady fingers. Andrew swore and stared at the ceiling, seeming to will his body not to respond . . . but as her cool little hand slid inside his trousers, he groaned and flushed darkly.
Caroline brought out the hard, pulsing length of his sex, and clasped the thick shaft with trembling fingers. She was fascinated by the satiny feel of his skin, the nest of coarse curls at his groin, the heavy, surprisingly cool weight of his testicles down below. The thought of taking the entire potent length of him inside her own body was as shocking as it was exciting. Awkwardly she caressed him, and was startled by his immediate response, the instinctive upward surge of his hips, the stifled grunt of pleasure that came from his throat.
“Is this the right way?” she asked, her fingers sliding up to the large round head.
“Caroline . . .” His tormented gaze was riveted on her face. “Caroline, listen to me. I don’t want this. It won’t be good for you. There are things I haven’t done for you . . . things your body needs . . . for God’s sake—”
“I don’t care. I want to make love to you.”
She peeled off her drawers and garters and stockings, and returned to crouch over his groin, feeling clumsy and yet inflamed. “Tell me what to do,” she begged, and pressed the head of his sex directly against the soft cove of her body. She lowered her weight experimentally, and froze at the intense pressure and pain that threatened. It seemed impossible to make their bodies fit together. Baffled and frustrated, she tried again, but she could not manage to push the stiff length of him through the tightly closed opening. She stared at Andrew’s taut face, her gaze pleading. “Help me. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
Even in this moment of crucial intimacy, he would not relent. “It’s time to stop, Caroline.”
The finality of his refusal was impossible to ignore.
She was swamped with a feeling of utter defeat. She took a long, shivering breath, and another, but nothing would relieve the burning ache in her lungs. “All right,” she managed to whisper. “All right. I’m sorry.” Tears stung her eyes, and she reached beneath her spectacles to wipe at them furiously. She had lost him again, this time permanently. Any man who could resist a woman at such a moment, while she begged to make love to him, could not truly be in love with her. Groping for the key, she continued to cry silently.
For some reason the sight of her tears drove him into a sort of contained frenzy, his body stiffening with the effort not to flail at his chains. “Caroline,” he said in a shaking whisper. “Please open the damned lock. Please. God . . . don’t. Just get the key. Yes. Let me go. Let me—”
As soon as she turned the tiny key in the lock, the world seemed to explode with movement. Andrew moved with the spe
ed of a leaping tiger, freeing his wrists and pouncing on her. Too stunned to react, Caroline found herself being flipped over and pressed flat on her back. The half-naked weight of his body crushed her deep into the mattress, the startling thrust of his erection hard against her quivering stomach. He moved against her once, twice, three times, the pouch of his ballocks dragging tightly through her dark curls, and then he went still, holding her until she could hardly breathe. A groan escaped him, and a liquid wash of heat seeped between their bodies, sliding over her stomach.
Dazed, Caroline lay still and silent, her gaze darting over his taut features. Andrew let out a ragged sigh and opened his eyes, which had turned a brilliant shade of molten blue. “Don’t move,” he said softly. “Just lie still for a moment.”
She had no other choice. Her limbs were weak and trembling . . . she burned as if from a fever. Miserably she watched as he left the bed, then glanced down at her stomach. She touched a fingertip to the glossy smear of liquid there, and she was puzzled and curious and woeful all at the same time. Andrew returned with a wet cloth, and joined her on the bed. Closing her eyes, Caroline flinched at the coldness of the cloth as he gently cleansed her body. She could not bear the sight of his impassive face, nor could she stand the thought of what he might say to her. No doubt he would berate her for her part in this humiliating escapade, and she certainly deserved it. She bit her lip and stiffened her limbs against the tremors that shook her . . . she was so hot everywhere, her hips lifting uncontrollably, a sob catching in her throat. “Leave me alone,” she whispered, feeling as if she were going to fly into pieces.
The cloth was set aside, and Andrew’s fingers carefully hooked under the sidepieces of her spectacles to lift them from her damp face. Her lashes lifted. He was leaning over her, so close that his features were only slightly blurred. His gaze traveled slowly down the length of her slender body. “My God, how I love you,” he murmured, shocking her, while his hand cupped her breast and squeezed gently. His fingertips trailed downward in a lazy path, until they slipped into the plump cleft between her thighs.
