“Claire,” he said quietly, when her shallow breaths were nearly more than he could take.
“Hmmm?” she hummed back absently.
“If you were alone, would you be touching yourself?” She froze again. Barely daring to breathe. “Would you?” he coaxed.
***
Would she? If she truly asked herself that question, she’d have to say yes. She’d never even thought of doing it before that night at his house in Bedfordshire. She hadn’t known what it was all about. But in the months since, she’d touched herself. Heat crept up her face at the thought. The answer to his question was—Yes, she would hike her skirts up around her waist and sink her fingers into her warm, wet folds. She’d rub herself to completion. But she wasn’t alone. Which made this damned difficult.
“Look what he’s doing on the stage,” Finn said. His eyes were riveted there, instead of on her. But when she glanced at the stage, she saw the male character, who she assumed was some debauched lord, nibbling and biting at his wife’s breasts. She didn’t know if the woman was his wife, but she liked assuming she was.
“Do you like what he’s doing?” Finn asked.
Absently, she allowed her own fingertips to grace the plump skin over her bodice.
“I remember what it was like to lick your breasts. They turn cherry red when they’ve been suckled.”
Claire’s belly clinched. She was already wet. At this rate, she’d leave a huge wet spot on Finn’s knee when she stood up.
“You didn’t answer me. If you were alone, would you be touching yourself? Would you slide a finger below the bodice of your dress so you could tease your nipples? Would you, Claire?” She barely registered it when his hand came up to cup her breast. But she didn’t shove his hand away. She liked his touch. Her breasts were more sensitive than normal, but his touch was gentle.
“Yes,” she whispered, ashamed of her own response. She would be touching her nipples. She would be massaging her breasts. She would be ready to find completion.
“Tell me if I do anything you don’t want,” he said. Then his hand grazed the sensitive skin above her breasts. It was all Claire could do not to arch her back to thrust her breasts into his hands. To shamelessly beg him to caress her. “You’ll tell me if I’m not pleasing you, won’t you?” he breathed. His voice had dropped to a husky murmur for her ears alone.
His finger slipped beneath her bodice and grazed that turgid little peak that ached for him. A shameless moan left her throat.
“I would give anything right now to lower your bodice and take you in my arms. Then I’d drink you in.”
She was being tortured. “Finn,” she protested.
“What is it, love? Do you want to come?”
If it wasn’t so dark, he would see her blush furiously at that question. But, heaven help her, she did. She did want to come.
“Do you want me to make you come, Claire?” he asked softly.
She turned her head and buried it in his neck. She couldn’t say no. She couldn’t say yes.
He chuckled lightly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She exhaled. Finally. Thank God.
His fingers left her bodice and he laid his hand flat on her thigh. Then his fingers began to gather her skirts, bunching them up more and more near her hip. He took great care not to expose her, although at this point, she was well beyond caring. When his fingers finally encountered her skin, they lingered to play at the top of her stockings.
“What color are they?” He drew her earlobe into his mouth and suckled it gently.
“Green,” she replied without even thinking.
“One day, I want to remove them from you so I can lick all the way from your toes to—” He paused. Then found the passage inside her drawers through the slit in the middle, and as his fingers parted her flesh, he finished, saying, “Here.”
Claire’s right hand clutched the chair arm, while her left hand clung tightly to his thigh.
“You are so wet,” he murmured.
How mortifying.
“So lovely,” he continued. His free hand cupped her breast, his finger stroking across her nipple through the bodice of her gown. His fingers dipped inside her, as he brought her own moisture forward and circled that little nub of pleasure he seemed to be fairly well acquainted with. “Oh, it’s swollen. I bet it’s thumping like mad. Just like your heart.”
She nodded, her eyes still closed. She didn’t even need to watch the performance on the stage. Finn was more than she could handle up on the landing. In the dark, with his fingers stroking her most private places, with him driving her senseless.
His finger dipped inside her again, drawing that slick moisture from inside her channel so he could slide his finger easily across that knot of sensation.
“Finn,” she cried out.
“Are you close?” he asked in her ear.
She nodded frantically, biting her lower lip to keep from screaming.
The pressure and speed of his assault increased. “Then do it,” he growled in her ear. “Come for me. Let me feel that sweet wash of your release. Let me feel your body quake in my arms. When you come, I’m going to slide my finger inside you and dream about the day it’ll be me inside you again as you flutter in release.”
A breathy little sigh was all she could utter.
“Come for me, Claire. Come for me. You want to come. I know you do. Can you? Will you? Trust me, Claire. Let me pleasure you.”
She pushed toward that impossible cliff but couldn’t fall over.
“Claire, stop fighting it. It’s just me and you. We’re alone. Your breast in my hand. My fingers are sinking inside you. And you are going to find that sweet release.”
“Finn,” she whimpered.
“Now, Claire,” he grunted in her ear. And then she did more than topple. She was flung body and soul over the cliff of pleasure. And couldn’t keep from crying out her release. “Shhh…” he crooned in her ear. But he didn’t stop rubbing that spot that was full of concentrated longing. He replaced his finger with his thumb and slid one digit inside her.
She came. And came. And came. And he milked every last drop from her as she settled back to earth. Her body stilled, supple and pliant as he pulled his hand from beneath her skirt, covered her legs completely, and turned her so that she lay cuddled in his arms, her head on his shoulder.
He brushed a kiss across her forehead.
“Don’t worry. I still don’t love you,” she whispered.
“I don’t love you either,” he whispered back. Then he kissed her forehead again and let her go limp in his arms. She’d try to remember in a moment why this was a bad thing. But, in that moment, she didn’t care at all.
Fourteen
What rotten, dreadful, dog-tired luck he had. Finn was sitting with Claire tucked into his side in the carriage. She smelled good enough to eat, and after what they’d just done on the balcony, he wanted to nibble on her all over. His hands still smelled like her, for God’s sake. Just the thought of how responsive she was made him hard as stone.
But then he looked across the carriage and saw Katherine. His former mistress looked out the coach window, worrying her fingernails as her foot tapped against the floor. The situation was enough to drive a sane man mad.
“When did this start, Katherine?” Finn asked.
She startled. “Beg your pardon?”
He touched his fingertips to the space over his own eye, indicating her bruise. “When did he start hitting you?”
“Does it matter?” She glared at him from across the coach.
“It would help to know what kind of man I’m destined to deal with.”
“He won’t bother you,” she said. Then she went back to nibbling her fingernails.
Finn highly doubted that Mayden would not come for her. Finn would have to hide Katherine, and hide her well,
before the man came to call. “He’ll bother me like a fly bothers a horse.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Mayden was not the smartest man alive. And he was desperate. What he wanted more than anything was to own everything the Duke of Robinsworth had ever had his hands on, and that included Finn’s property.
It was rumored that Mayden had a hand in the Duke of Robinsworth’s wife’s murder, but no one had ever been able to prove it. She’d been tossed from the turrets of Robin’s own ancestral home, Finn’s current domicile, years ago, and the duke had been vilified for it. He had become a recluse because of all the talk.
That was, until he met Sophia Thorne, of course. Robin had followed her back to her homeland, which just happened to be a magical land. The same land from which the lady beside him hailed.
Mayden had a score to settle with Robinsworth, and therefore with every friend, family member, and acquaintance of his. And it was no wonder he’d chosen Katherine to twist the knife. If Katherine thought Mayden wouldn’t come for her, she was dead wrong.
Finn would have to find a safe place for her to stay until after the baby was born. God, what a muddle.
He spoke, more to himself than to the other occupants of the coach. “We need to get you up the stairs and to a bedchamber with no one noticing you.”
Claire opened her mouth to speak, but Katherine said, “Of course,” with an almost imperceptible nod.
“You think you’re going to bring her into the Hall like she’s a servant.”
Finn arched a brow at Claire. Katherine was a hired woman. Just not the kind that Claire was referring to.
“Did you expect me to bring her in through the front door?” Finn glared at Claire. She didn’t understand anything about his world, its hierarchy, or his responsibilities.
“She is not a maid.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Finn said under his breath.
Claire punched him in the side. Hard enough to make him grunt. “What was that for?”
“For being a dolt.” Claire crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared at him.
“It’s all right, Miss Thorne. I understand,” Katherine said. Apparently, her fire had been quite effectively stamped out. When he’d met her, she’d been sweet and charming and not a mouse of a woman. He wasn’t attracted to this Katherine at all. Which was good, because the faerie beside him drew all his attention.
What the devil was he going to do with Katherine?
***
“You can send her to your house in Bedfordshire,” Claire suggested.
“Charming place,” Katherine said.
“You’ve been there?” Claire couldn’t help but ask. Of course, Katherine had been there. She had been his mistress.
Katherine raised a brow at her. No response was necessary. “Haven’t you?”
“Of course, she hasn’t been there,” Finn said, denying her knowledge of the place.
“Of course not,” Claire muttered. “I only arrived a few days ago.”
“From where is it that you hail?” Katherine asked.
“I’m sure you’ve never heard of it,” Claire responded.
“Where have Lord and Lady Ramsdale been keeping you?”
“In the country,” Finn interjected.
“Alone?”
Katherine was interested in her life story. And Claire couldn’t share any of it. There was no reason to explain Claire’s hair color or the fact that she was at that damn ball in the first place, since Katherine would hopefully never see Claire again. Ever.
“The new Duchess of Robinsworth, Miss Thorne, and their older brother lived with their grandparents most of the time,” Finn said. He shot Claire an apologetic glance. It was hard to talk about her parents, since she didn’t know them well. So, she appreciated his help. “I suppose in the morning that I could send you to Bedfordshire.”
Katherine nodded. “I just need to stay out of his reach for a time.” She laid a hand on her still-flat stomach. The baby couldn’t possibly be Finn’s. He hadn’t lain with Katherine in months. “If you could help me, I would be grateful.”
“I’ll send word to the house tomorrow. And then you can travel in a few days.”
“And stay with you until then?”
“You’ll stay with Miss Thorne at the Hall. As her guest. I’ll return to my house.”
“Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Claire asked, suddenly unsure of being saddled with Finn’s former mistress.
“I’m not certain of anything,” Finn said as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “I probably shouldn’t leave the two of you in case Mayden comes looking for Katherine.” He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t.
The coach rumbled to a stop, and the footman lowered the step and opened the door. “I’ll wait for the carriage to take me around to the back,” Katherine said.
“You’ll do no such thing. You heard him. You are my guest.”
Katherine may have had a rough start in life, but Claire refused to let her be treated like the working class, not with that wounded look in her eye, even if she was a former mistress. She took Katherine’s hand and pulled her from the carriage.
Wilkins didn’t even blink when he opened the door. The man deserved a medal. “Shall I prepare for another guest?” he asked.
“Please do,” Claire said before Finn could open his mouth. “Mrs. Crawfield is a friend of mine, and she will need a room close to my bedchamber.”
Finn growled low in his throat.
“What on earth was that for?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Finn muttered. “I trust the two of you can settle yourselves in with no assistance from me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but turned on his heel and went toward the study.
Claire needed some time alone. She needed to plan. She needed to figure out what was going to happen next. But she had to settle Katherine in and be certain she was all right. She couldn’t let a woman like her down. Particularly since they were in similar situations.
Maybe there was a mission here for Claire after all. Perhaps it was saving Katherine Crawfield from herself. Claire hadn’t been on a mission in months. She missed the challenge.
***
“How long have you been in love with him?” Katherine asked as they walked slowly up the stairs. Claire stumbled over her own foot, and Katherine reached out to steady her.
“Beg your pardon?” Claire managed to spit out.
Katherine enunciated every word clearly as she continued to speak. “How. Long. Have. You. Been. In. Love. With. Finn?”
Claire forced a chuckle that she didn’t even remotely feel. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Katherine smiled softly. “A woman knows.” She waved a breezy hand in the air. “There’s definitely something between the two of you.”
There was a child, but she couldn’t tell Katherine about that. “You must be mistaken.” Claire absently fiddled with a loose string on her glove.
“I am never mistaken, not when it comes to matters of the heart.” She paused, staring at nothing. “That is, unless it’s my own heart that’s involved. Then I’m a complete idiot.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she waved a hand in front of her face as though to dry them before they even fell.
“Why Mayden?” Claire asked as she continued up the stairs. It was much better to talk about Katherine’s love affair than her own.
“He was charming. He made me feel like he wanted me more than anything. He’s very good at that. I wasn’t the only one he was courting. He was priming another woman for marriage, someone wealthy.” She laughed at herself. “Courting is the wrong word for what women like me do, isn’t it?”
“Not really. I imagine the courtship is very similar, is it not?”
Katherine shrugged. “Perhaps.” She heaved a huge sigh. “I didn’t realize
until after I’d given Finn the cut what a mistake I’d made. I should have stayed with Finn. He might never love me, but he did respect me. And he could afford me. That’s more than I got with Mayden.” She laid a hand on her belly. “I never wanted a child.”
“You’ll grow to love him with time.” Claire was already in love with the child she carried within her.
“A child is a liability in my way of life.” She looked haunted. “It’s difficult to convince a man that you’re irresistible with a child hanging on to your skirts.”
“Isn’t that what governesses and nurses are for?” Claire had pretended to be both when she was on her missions. And found that the upper class typically left their child rearing to the nannies and hired help.
“Nurses and governesses are for your class. Not mine.” She settled onto the settee in Claire’s private sitting room. “I suppose I can find a good family for it.”
“Do you have any family who can help you?”
She shook her head. “No one who will claim me.”
Claire felt similarly. “You can go to Lord Phineas’s house in Bedfordshire and retire for the rest of your time. Then make a decision.”
At least Katherine would get a decision. Claire’s own situation would depend on the nature of the child.
“Has he kissed you yet?” Katherine asked.
Claire sputtered. He’d done a lot more than that. And even more tonight. “Certainly not.”
“Then he wants to. I can tell by the way he looks at you.”
Claire had to ask. “What makes you think that?”
“He gets this hungry look on his face when he looks at you. Like he’s imagining what you taste like and smell like. What you’d feel like wrapped around him.”
Heat crept up Claire’s cheeks.
“Pardon me,” Katherine said. “I keep forgetting you’re not like me. Real ladies would faint to hear such things. They do it with the lights off and their nightrails shoved up to their waists, grinding their teeth the whole while.” She laughed lightly.
That wasn’t what it had been like for Claire with Finn. She had questions for Katherine. But she’d seem like the worst sort of whore if she asked them, so she kept them to herself. Then curiosity got the better of her. “You don’t do it with the lights off?”
The Magic of I Do Page 9
