Impassioned

by Darcy Burke

  Brightly lifted his glass. “Hear, hear!” Everyone took a drink before Brightly continued. “I can scarcely believe it’s already time for our first excursion on Saturday.”

  “And I can scarcely believe wives are still not allowed to come.” Mrs. Brightly gently nudged her husband in the ribs with her elbow. She grinned up at him, and they shared a moment in which it seemed they were the only people in the room.

  Constantine was aware of Sabrina’s hand brushing against his thigh. His head snapped toward hers as a jolt of heat shot through him.

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her lashes fluttered in an expression that was at once demure and enticing. He struggled to take a breath.

  “I asked Aldington the same thing,” Sabrina said, her gaze reluctantly leaving his. “I was jesting, however. Are you doing the same?”

  “Always. I understand the racing club is for gentlemen. Just as my needlework club is for ladies.” Mrs. Brightly focused on Sabrina intently. “If you enjoy needlework, you should join us.”

  “Why thank you,” Sabrina said politely. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Did she do needlework? Constantine had no idea. “Perhaps we should insist the gentlemen allow us to accompany them, just for this first excursion.” She looked from Brightly to Constantine.

  Mrs. Brightly’s forehead creased as she pivoted toward her husband. “That’s a splendid idea. Why not allow us to come on this first race? I can’t see the harm in it.”

  Brightly’s mouth opened but no words came out. He looked to Constantine, and his need for assistance was clear.

  “We would have to obtain the agreement of the rest of the club,” Constantine said. “We have a meeting tomorrow. I’ll raise the issue.”

  Sabrina stared at him. “You will?”

  “I’ll support you in it,” Brightly said. “I own it would be terribly diverting to have the wives along on a jaunt. Mrs. Brightly and I do love to drive together, though we don’t do it as much as in the early days of our marriage.”

  “And when we were courting. You took me on that rather scandalous drive to Islington.” She briefly grazed her hand against his leg and met his gaze, laughing.

  Brightly chuckled. “We were already betrothed, so it wasn’t that scandalous. I simply couldn’t wait to be alone with you.” He winked at her, and it was clear they had been a love match from the very beginning.

  Mrs. Brightly turned her attention to Sabrina. “What sort of scandalous things did you and Aldington get up to before you were wed?”

  “Nothing,” Sabrina answered. “Our courtship was incredibly proper. I don’t mean to imply that yours wasn’t,” she quickly added.

  Constantine noted the faint flush at the base of her neck. “I’m afraid her ladyship and I are sticklers for propriety. Aren’t we, dear?” He admired her profile before she turned her head.

  “That, and we seem to enjoy anticipation.” Her eyes glittered with heat, and Constantine feared his cock would embarrass him. For a woman who had never flirted with him before a week or so ago, she’d somehow become incredibly skilled.

  Thankfully, the butler returned to announce that dinner was served, and Constantine was saved. He wondered if it was only a temporary reprieve, however. Because being in the presence of an affectionate couple in addition to wanting desperately to shag his wife could very well push him to the edge of his control.

  Sabrina yawned as Constantine helped her into the coach later that evening. “I beg your pardon. Between the preparations for the ball and this evening, I am exhausted.”

  That settled the debate that had been going on inside Constantine’s head the past two hours: to take her to bed tonight or not. It seemed not. Despite the fact that his body was practically screaming for hers. Between the loving affection of the Brightlys, which for the first time seemed infectious, and the subtle flirtation from his wife, Constantine was at sixes and sevens.

  “I enjoyed myself very much,” Sabrina said as the coach moved forward. “Did you?”

  “Yes. Horace is a good friend. I’m glad you and Mrs. Brightly get on so well.”

  “They are a devoted couple,” she said softly. “I’ve always noticed that, of course, but tonight it felt…different to be around them.”

  Constantine tensed. She had noticed. “Different good or different bad?”

  “Good, I think.”

  Constantine relaxed. But only slightly. “I’m glad their fondness doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

  “I think fondness is an inadequate word.” She turned on the seat and faced him, stirring the air around him so that he was enveloped in her now-familiar scent. “Does this discussion make you uncomfortable? You seem anxious all of a sudden.”

  “I’m not anxious.” He was bloody frustrated. But he could wait a little longer.

  She took his hand between hers, then released him to discard her gloves, setting them on the seat on the other side of her. Carefully, she withdrew his glove, putting it aside with hers, so that they were flesh to flesh. “You feel warm.”

  He was burning. Entirely for her.

  She stroked her fingertips along his hand and then up beneath the cuff of his sleeve. He sucked in a breath, holding it, his entire body stretched taut as if on a rack. But this torture was sweet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to end.

  “I do like anticipation,” he breathed, his gaze fixated on the pulse of her heartbeat in her pale throat.

  “It seems prevalent of late,” she murmured, her body swaying toward him. Perhaps she wasn’t too tired…

  He pulled off his other glove and cast it aside. “Yes.” Lifting his hand, he gently touched that spot on her throat, dragging his thumb down over the satin of her flesh. Her chest rose and fell more rapidly as her lips parted.

  The tutor’s advice rose in Constantine’s mind, that he should talk to Sabrina to allay her fears. “Are you nervous?”

  She swallowed. “Perhaps a little.”

  “That’s all right,” he soothed, stilling his touch. “I will always go as slow as you ask. But I need you to ask. Can you do that?” He looked into her eyes and saw the apprehension recede.

  “I can.” She clasped his other hand—the one that wasn’t resting against the base of her throat, splayed from the top of her bodice to her collarbone, which was disappointingly covered by the soft woolen shawl. “Now it is my turn to ask you… Why are you different?”

  He wanted to say that he wasn’t, but he knew that wasn’t true. “Because I want to be. With you. As you have done with me. We didn’t start off right.”

  “No, we did not.”

  They’d been pawns, steered by their parents for their own ends. Constantine understood Sabrina’s parents’ motivation, but what of the duke’s? Why had he pushed Constantine to wed this woman?

  It didn’t matter because he was married to her, and he didn’t regret being so. Not anymore. He realized in that moment that he had regretted it. Or perhaps resented it. A wave of guilt stole over him.

  “I’m sorry for all the time before.” He bent his head and kissed her, trying to go slowly while his body was urging him go faster, to demand more, to take more.

  Perhaps she sensed that within him. She released his hand and put her palms against his chest, pressing briefly, before she clutched the lapels of his coat. Parting her lips, she met his tongue, and a heady rush of desire swept him from head to foot.

  The shawl had fallen from her shoulders when she’d lifted her hands to his chest. He slid his hand along her collarbone and upper back. He cupped her nape, cradling the velvety softness of her skin.

  She slipped one arm beneath his coat and wrapped it around his back, pulling him against her as she angled herself into the corner of the seat. Tentatively, she moved her other hand up along his chest and over his shoulder.

  Constantine rotated, positioning himself over her and bringing one knee up while his other foot braced on the floor against the jostling of the coach. His hat tipped forward, and he tossed it away. Then s
he kissed him with an abandon he’d never thought possible, her lips and tongue tangling with his.

  He kissed along her jaw and neck, savoring the flesh he’d long wanted to taste. Rapture flooded him. This was madness. This was bliss.

  “Constantine, please, I would—”

  He froze. Then he lifted his head to look down at her. Cheeks flushed, she opened her eyes.

  “I love hearing you say my name.”

  “Constantine. Please. Touch me.”

  With a soft groan, he kissed her again, without any hint of gentleness this time. The connection was hard and desperate, the culmination of a deep longing. He pushed the shawl away from her completely and cupped her breast through the silk of her gown. It wasn’t nearly enough to appease his desire, but she arched up, moaning softly.

  Reaching down, he found the hem of her dress and pulled it up, exposing her legs. She gasped as he skimmed his hand along her inner thigh. Soft warmth greeted him, coaxing him higher where she was even softer and warmer. And wet.

  Constantine stroked her sex, feeling how ready she was for him. Desperate to sink himself into her heat, he satisfied himself with using his fingers, sliding into her while he teased her clitoris.

  Her hips moved to meet his thrusts as she clutched at his back and shoulder, her fingers digging into his clothing. Too damn much clothing. He wanted her nude and quivering, desperate with need as he was, beneath him.

  The coach stopped. Lost in ecstasy, Constantine didn’t think they could already be home. However, the sound of the coachman climbing down from his seat was unmistakable.

  Constantine hurriedly withdrew his hand and brought her skirts down to cover her. “We’re home.” He helped her sit upright.

  Her face was still flushed, and he could well imagine her frustration. He shared it, but she’d been close to release. Leaning into her, he pressed a kiss beneath her ear before whispering, “We’ll finish this upstairs, where I will strip every bit of clothing from you and make you scream. I want to hear you come, Sabrina.” He felt the quiver that danced across her shoulders as she drew in and held her breath.

  He couldn’t wait to get in the house.

  The coachman opened the door, and Constantine climbed out. He reached up to help Sabrina down, then offered her his arm.

  “You left these in the coach,” she murmured, handing him his hat and gloves.

  He guided her into the house. Haddock met them in the foyer, instantly taking Constantine’s accessories from him. “Good evening, my lord, my lady.” He pinned his attention to Constantine. “An urgent missive arrived while you were out.”

  Constantine could think of nothing more urgent than bedding his wife. “I’ll read it in the morning.”

  Haddock grimaced. “The gentleman, Mr. Lambert, delivered it himself and said it was vitally important you read it tonight.” Bloody hell. Lambert was one of the other MPs working on the apothecaries bill.

  Pivoting to Sabrina, Constantine took her hands. “I just need a few minutes to read this letter and respond to it.” That had to be the reason for the urgency—Lambert wanted a response tonight.

  She gave him a warm, understanding smile. “It’s all right.” She leaned toward him and whispered, “I’ll wait up.”

  His body, still teeming with unspent sexual energy, tightened with lust. He’d never felt more base, more primal. He ought to feel disgusted, but he felt…alive.

  As she turned and went into the stair hall, Constantine couldn’t help but stare at the curve of her backside, barely discernible beneath the sweep of her scarlet gown. He longed to see it—and all of her—bare.

  Soon. Very soon.

  “My apologies, my lord,” Haddock said. “I hate to interrupt you and your ladyship. May I say it is nice to see you getting on so well.”

  Constantine snapped his attention to the butler, surprised by his words. Rather, surprised Haddock would utter them. Apparently, Haddock was too, for his cheeks bore tiny flags of pink.

  “Yes, you may,” Constantine said. “And thank you. Dare I say that you and Mrs. Haddock are an inspiration.”

  The pink in Haddock’s cheeks deepened. “I am speechless, my lord. You are too kind. The note is in your study.”

  Constantine turned, intent on concluding his business as quickly as possible. Upstairs, his future awaited.

  Chapter 17

  Pacing the bedchamber as she awaited her husband’s arrival was not new to Sabrina. Her emotions tonight were, however. Instead of wringing her hands with anxiety and plotting how she would suffer through the ordeal, she pulsed with excitement and anticipation.

  Charity had helped her undress and brushed her hair out. As usual, she offered to braid it, but Sabrina nearly always did it herself. Tonight, she wouldn’t do it at all. After Charity had left, Sabrina had tied it back with a simple ribbon, then brought the mass forward over her left shoulder.

  She’d donned the dressing gown she’d worn to tempt him. Made of dark pink silk, it fastened beneath her breasts and the neckline plunged to a V at the top of them, allowing more than a glimpse of the valley between.

  Her nerves were just as fraught as when she’d masqueraded as his tutor, but in a different way. She contemplated telling him the truth, revealing that they had already shared a pair of thrilling, revealing encounters.

  Not tonight. She wanted this—needed this—moment for them, for the marriage they were both working so hard to build. What they’d both done to get here had been necessary and understandable.

  He seemed to be taking a long time. She paused, wondering if she should go downstairs and lure him up. No, he didn’t need luring. He would come. She was sure of it.

  Then she heard him in the sitting room—the sound of footsteps was unmistakable. As was the sound of his door opening and closing.

  She frowned. That wasn’t promising. Had he changed his mind? Did he think he’d taken too long and that she’d fallen asleep? No, she’d specifically told him she would wait up.

  Sabrina resumed pacing, casting restless glances toward his room as her pace increased. Pausing, she went to the wall and leaned close, straining to hear what he was doing.

  Oh, this was ridiculous! They both wanted this. She was sure of it. Just as she was sure she was done waiting.

  She stalked to the door and went into the empty sitting room. His door was closed, but she marched right to it and knocked without hesitation.

  A moment later, he answered, a lock of hair falling across his forehead as he tied the sash of his banyan. “I was just on my way,” he said, brushing his hair back. “I wanted to change.” His gaze swept over her. “I see you did too.”

  She reached up and pulled the errant lock back down. “I liked that. It makes you look more carefree. Maybe even a little bit wild.”

  One of his brows arched, which had happened more as of late. The expression gave him an air of humor and charm that made him incredibly attractive. She wanted to throw her arms around him and steer him back into his room. But no, he would insist on going to her chamber.

  “Wild? I’m not sure I’ve ever been called that or ever behaved in a way that could be described thus.”

  “Not even when you drank too much at Oxford?”

  His lips spread into a devastating smile. “Perhaps then.”

  She wanted wild. Now. Placing her palms on his chest, she pushed him gently and stepped over the threshold. “Show me.”

  His smiled faded as he sucked in a breath. “You want to stay here?”

  “If you’ll let me.”

  “Sabrina, I will let you do anything you desire.” His gaze fixed on hers with an intensity that shot straight to her sex. Coupled with his intoxicating words, the look he gave her threatened to melt her into a puddle.

  He took her hand and pulled her farther inside, then stepped behind her to close the door. “You are so beautiful.” He touched the back of her neck, his fingers skimming along her flesh, then down over the silk fabric covering her spine. He paused at the t
op of her backside before splaying his hand across it and cupping her firmly. “Beautiful,” he repeated, his lips against her neck.

  Her backside tingled and her sex throbbed, but she didn’t turn to face him. She’d been at the edge of orgasm when the coach had stopped. When he’d left her might have been the most frustrating moment of her entire life. Ever since, she’d been on a precipice, teetering. The urge to finish what he’d started was almost overwhelming, but she’d waited.

  “I waited for you.” She inhaled as his hand continued to caress her backside. Then his other hand came around her and closed over her breast, gently massaging her. “It was difficult.”

  “I imagine it was. How did you entertain yourself?”

  Was he asking if she’d…? “I paced. Quickly.”

  His thumb and finger closed around her nipple, drawing on it and coaxing the flesh into a tight nub. Her breasts felt heavy and sensitive, desperate for his touch. He pinched, softly, then pulled sharply. She gasped, and he released her.

  “Don’t stop.” She pressed back against him and felt his erection press into her backside.

  His other hand swept over her hip and slid up to her other breast. He cupped them in tandem, repeating his caresses. Heat flooded her core, and she couldn’t keep from whimpering. She was so close. Could she come just from what he was doing?

  Suddenly, she wanted him to be on the brink, just as she was. And she knew how to get him there.

  Spinning around, she placed her hands on his chest. “I’m alone out here on the edge, balancing between anticipation and satisfaction. I want you here with me.” She dropped to her knees and untied the sash at his waist.

  His entire body went rock hard. “What are you doing?” he rasped.

  She parted the sides of his banyan and regarded his cock. Stiff and pale, cloaked at the base with a nest of brown curls, it seemed to stretch toward her, seeking. Recalling the images and descriptions in the book Evie had given her, Sabrina curled her hand around the base and stroked up toward the head.