Far Too Tempted

by Emma Wildes

  “Easy,” he urged, parting her, finding the crucial spot to bring her the most pleasure. “Doesn’t this feel good?”

  “I can’t let you…oh.” Her eyes drifted shut and she opened her thighs slightly at his touch, a flush mounting into her cheeks. He kissed her as his fingers began to stroke slowly, murmuring against her lips, “I want you very ready for me.”

  “Ready?” The question was weak, barely a quiver of sound. He could already feel the subtle response of her body, her hips lifting slightly against the rotation of his hand, her breathing quick and light against his mouth. A small moan escaped her lips and he captured it in a hungry kiss. Her arms tightened around his neck.

  Whatever their past—whether or not he would able to ever assuage her fear of betrayal or not—this night, he vowed as he expertly brought her to arousal, he would not fail her. His somewhat dissolute background might be something she despised, but in their marriage bed it would be to her advantage.

  It was the purest torture, as starved as he was for her, but it was also the most wonderful reward. With gentle pressure, he caressed and aroused, gradually increasing the pace with the arch of her spine and her quickened breathing. Innocent though she was, her body knew and sought that elusive pleasure, and a betraying tension and the tightening hold of her arms made him lift his head.

  She was beautiful in her first climax, her delicate features flushed and framed by the silk of her dark hair, long lashes against her cheekbones, her soft mouth parted as she arched and cried out, shuddering in his arms. The quaint room was filled with the sound of soft, sensual little cries.

  When she was still and pliant, he whispered in her ear, “Now you’re ready, love.”

  Her eyes flew open when she felt him against her and Alex gave her a dark smile as he settled between her legs, relishing the tight heat as he began to penetrate, a feverish pleasure encompassing his senses with each slow inch. Tightness, warmth, an almost excruciating sense of excitement…it was a new experience for them both, since he’d never seduced a virgin. At the barrier of her innocence he was arrested briefly and she flinched as he thrust forward, breaking through and burying himself deeply inside her body.

  It was too good, he thought dimly, a haze of ecstasy already racking his frame. He managed to ask, “Am I hurting you too badly?”

  Jessica shifted slightly and then shook her head, her shining hair moving against the white of the pillowslip. “No.” It was just a whisper. “It’s past, I think.” Her arms were still twined around his neck.

  “Thank God,” he muttered in gratitude because he was so close to exploding he could hardly breathe.

  He began to move, as slowly as he could. He’d been too long without a woman and Jessica’s innocent passion was like an intoxicating drink, making his control almost nonexistent. When she began to lift her hips to meet his thrusts, breathless pants escaping her parted lips, he lost all notion of being gentle, groaning out loud and beginning to move faster.

  Faster and faster. And Jessica was there with him, clutching his arms, her eyes tightly shut. Her recent climax was to his advantage because her already aroused body began to shudder and tighten around him. His release was a soul- racking flood of wave upon wave of pleasure that consumed and devastated. Alex heard himself call out her name and seconds later he collapsed to the side, dragging Jessica with him and gasping for breath as he rolled onto his back.

  Silence.

  The curtains moved lightly in the breeze and he could see night stars through the tiny gaps as the cloth shifted. The cool air was welcome on his heated skin. He smiled wryly. “I haven’t spent myself so quickly since I was a boy.”

  Half-sprawled across his chest, their bodies still entwined, Jessica lifted her head and knitted her brows.

  He laughed at her puzzled expression, relishing the soft curves of her body as he held her. “Lovemaking takes some stamina on the part of the male, but I’m afraid I’ve been abstinent for so long that my body began thinking only about itself.”

  “You? Abstinent?” A shake of her head sent that glorious dark mane swirling across his bare chest. He would have relished the sensation, but what it signified, plus the doubt evident in her lovely eyes, made him cringe a little inwardly.

  How could he convince someone like her to trust when she was so jaded by recent experience?

  He sighed. “I realize that you have this notion of me as some sort of reckless rake, hopping from bed to bed, but that is far from the truth. I think I can say that most young men with some degree of fortune and high birth are given to indulge themselves when they are first set free in society. Robert and I both did so, in gaming and yes, women. For that matter, Marcus was no saint. However, a little maturity helps a great deal with self-restraint. And so you know, Miranda Phillips is the last married woman I ever touched.”

  It was true. Jessica had made him feel like such a scoundrel those years ago when she’d looked at him with that steady and disenchanted gaze, so obviously shocked over the lightness in which he’d regarded the lady’s wedding vows. All the way to Spain he’d examined inwardly his own notions of honor and those of his class, and that examination had made him wince. Most gentlemen of his acquaintance considered it their right to vow fidelity to the woman they took as wife with every intention of breaking that vow. He’d come to the conclusion it was wrong four years ago.

  Thanks to her.

  He stroked his wife’s soft cheek. “Jess? I’d like very much for you to believe me.”

  She snuggled closer, and he realized her breathing had slowed to a low, rhythmic pattern across his skin. She murmured sleepily, “I’ll try, Alex.”

  Well, after all, it was probably all he had the right to ask.

  Chapter 11

  Jessica drifted in some magical world. A thin light seemed to surround her, and she felt weightless and floating into that airy impression, her body fluid and languid. In this wonderful place, she was encompassed by a delicious sensation of well- being and warmth.

  The heat shifted, moving lower. It seemed to center on her right breast, teasing, licking, making her moan out loud with the sheer joy of the sensation. The sweet torture went on and on and then shifted to her other breast in an inexorable journey of pleasure.

  Pleasure. What was happening? It was a hazy thought, and her lashes slowly lifted, almost against her will.

  She was in a soft bed amid tumbled blankets. And she was not alone.

  Alex stretched over the length of her, his mouth the source of that sweet heat. Soft rays from the rising sun filled the room and a golden glow touched his tousled dark-blond hair. She could feel the ripple of honed muscle with his every breath, every subtle movement, and the width of his shoulders was daunting. The scar from his latest wound shone vivid red in the slanting light. He was so much larger, making her feel delicate and vulnerable, yet she knew she had never been so safe in her life.

  He shifted, taking that hot trail to the valley between her breasts, stroking the undersides with his tongue, swirling across her stomach, finding her navel. A relentless ache began to replace her languor.

  “Alex.”

  At the sound of his name, he moved upward, his lips brushing hers once, twice, before he settled into a tender kiss that seemed to melt her inside. With that same reverent care, his fingers slipped between her thighs and began to stroke and move. The urgency from the night before was replaced with a seductive, slow internal burning that ignited everywhere he touched her. He’d wanted her last night, she knew that. This morning, he wanted her to want him.

  And she did.

  She could feel his hardness against her inner thigh and she instinctively lifted against it, rewarded when he made a soft sound into her mouth. He kissed her temple, the arch of her brow, the curve of her cheekbone, still so intimately stroking her. Jessica threaded her fingers into the soft waves of his hair and tugged him back, this time her mouth lifting to his, her tongue initiating the play.

  She yearned for what only Alex c
ould give her. Her breasts were straining, her heart pumping, and every inch of her flesh felt flushed and damp… She arched again, this time more insistently.

  He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. A teasing, sensual smile curved his lips. “Now?”

  He was definitely in control and normally she would have hated it, but at this moment, she didn’t care in the least. Jessica panted, “Yes, damn you. Now.”

  “Your wish is my command.” His hands moved to her thighs, spreading them apart.

  His entry was slow and sure, and he whispered in her ear as he thrust inside her quivering body, words that barely registered. The glorious sense of completion with the joining of their bodies was eclipsed by a rising enveloping excitement. The night before it had taken her by surprise, but this time she knew what she wanted, and knowledge was power.

  It was time she had some.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders, urging him to go faster.

  “Easy, Jess.” He kissed her throat, his mouth lingering against her damp skin. “We can take our time.”

  But she couldn’t go easy—she had never felt so out of control. With each stroke inside her she was closer to that precipice. Her hips lifted spasmodically to his every movement, her fingers raked his skin, and her breath brushed his cheek. God help her, she was climbing and climbing…

  And then she tumbled over and fell endlessly and endlessly, her own soft cries the only sound. Seconds later, Alex went rigid and she could feel the flooding sensation of his release.

  Jessica waited a long time to open her eyes. She had a feeling that Alex watched her because he’d left her ever so gently and she could feel the shift of the mattress as he propped himself on one elbow next to her. One large, warm hand rested on her bare hip.

  His gaze held hers. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be ready again this morning. You were.”

  She sat up, moving away, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “That wasn’t very dignified,” she mumbled. What an understatement. She could see reddish half-moon impressions on the flesh of his shoulders, left there by her insistent grasp.

  Alex laughed, his face lightening in that devastatingly attractive way. “Making love is definitely not supposed to be dignified. I’m delighted that you are a passionate woman, Jessica. I’ve always been sure you would be. Think about the many wonderful nights we have ahead of us. I’m looking forward to seeing you rounded with my babe.”

  He seemed sincere. Not to mention impossibly handsome and relaxed, as if what had just happened was not soul-shattering.

  She didn’t want to think about it. The idea was too frightening, the intimacy too much. It wasn’t fair, she thought frantically, because once again, Alex had the advantage. He had known ahead of time what they would share; she had not.

  Biting her lip, she sat there and stared at him in chaos of the bed linens and felt very afraid. How could she keep her distance when they shared something so personal and wonderful?

  His smile faded. “Sweetheart, don’t look so—”

  A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was going to say. Both startled and obviously irritated, Alex muttered, “What the devil?”

  He reached for his discarded breeches and she had one glimpse of his nude body as he stood and tugged on his pants, all sleek and magnificently male. As he strode across the room bare-chested, he said, “Cover up, Jess.”

  She lay down and jerked the blankets to her chin.

  Alex yanked the door open. “This had better be necessary.” The young man standing in the doorway jumped. “Colonel Ramsey. Sir.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Private Reel, sir. I have an urgent message for you.” Rather pale under Alex’s thunderous gaze, the young man extended an envelope.

  “I hope it is extremely important, Private.”

  As Jessica watched curiously, her husband tore open the missive and scanned the contents, his expression smoothing from furious to impassive. He glanced over at her, and the young private also took a timid look at the tumbled bed. No doubt it was obvious what they had been doing.

  Alex said curtly, “Tell the general I’ll be right behind you. My wife and I need a few moments to bathe, dress and eat something before we depart. On your way out, Reel, stop at the inn’s stables and inform our driver to ready the carriage.”

  “Yes, sir.” With a quick salute, the young man turned away.

  Alex carefully folded the note and slipped it into the pocket of his breeches. The door shut and he turned around. “I’m sorry, Jess. I had intended to take you to Braidwood today as I promised, but we’re back to London.”

  She sat back up, gathering the sheets about her with as much dignity as possible. “Why?”

  He wore that same neutral expression. “I’m afraid I can’t explain.”

  “Whatever do you mean, can’t?” To hide her disappointment would have been impossible. She yearned for the peace of Berkshire.

  “As I said. Can’t.”

  “But I’m your wife and this is my life too. You have to explain.” She felt a rising sense of outrage. This was her honeymoon, blast it. Shouldn’t a new husband pamper his bride and give her what she desires? And if he couldn’t do so, he at least owed her his reasons, didn’t he? “I am not one of your soldiers, to obey without question, nor am I one of those meek women who accept their husband’s edicts and do as they are told. If you thought that was what you were getting, Alex, then I’m sorry, you’ll be gravely disappointed.”

  He came so swiftly across the room she gave a small squeak and tried to scoot backwards on the bed. Alex caught her precious sheets and jerked, pinning her down on the mattress with an arm on either side of her supine body. He leaned over her, his mouth just inches away, and had the advantage so quickly that all she could do was lie there and stare up at him. What was worse, the sensation of her bare breasts touching his chest sent a traitorous curl of excitement spiraling through her veins.

  He said softly, “I know exactly what you are like, Jess, I’ve known you since the day you were brought into this world, remember? I have no illusions as to accepting edicts— mine or anyone else’s. I simply have orders that I cannot discuss this matter with anyone, not even my very beautiful, very stubborn wife. Now, I’ll order up hot water and breakfast, and if you’ll make all haste it would please me very much. Can you do that?”

  “Perhaps.”

  His blue eyes narrowed. “The alternative is wrapping you back in this sheet and carting you out the front door slung over my shoulder.” He leaned forward just the bare inches it took to touch her mouth with his, whispering against her lips, “And don’t you dare test me, my love. It is vitally important we leave right away.”

  Very aware of the unsettling effect of just the hint of a kiss had upon her, Jessica swallowed and muttered, “Fine. Let me go so I can dress.”

  * * * *

  Examining a dead body was not Alexander Ramsey’s idea of how he should spend his first day of married life. His notion of time well spent had something to do with silken skin and silver eyes.

  “Colonel. Right this way.”

  Reel indicated he should follow, and he navigated a hallway shadowed in the deepest gloom, almost stumbling in the darkness. Stifling a curse, he was relieved when they came into the auditorium.

  Relieved until he saw Lord Flatterly.

  He was—Alex reminded himself as he came forward toward the seat in which the body was grotesquely posed—extremely used to death. One dead man should be a shrug when he’d climbed over a mound of them to breach the wall at Ciudad Rodrigo. When he’d seen fields and mountainsides strewn with bodies and the scavengers at their grisly work. He’d been so soaked in blood during some battles in the peninsular campaign that he’d shed his coat and felt pounds lighter.

  But that was honorable death for a cause. Nothing like this.

  Flattery sat woodenly, his eyes still glossy and open. His jaw was slack, balanced by the increasing rigidity of the body. His cravat almost hiding it, the
hilt of a dagger protruded from the man’s throat, pinning him to the seat. His gloved hands had been clasped together at his lap in a refined mannerism, as if he were, indeed, doing nothing other than watching a play.

  “It’s about time, Ramsey. Feels like we’ve been waiting bloody forever. I expected you an hour ago.” The voice came from the shadows near the stage. General Wright strolled forward into the dim circle of light, his hands casually thrust into the pockets of his jacket.

  Alex glanced around. There were two other men back in the shadows, the three of them apparently waiting on his arrival. “Sorry, sir. I was married yesterday. May I say this is bad timing?”

  The general bared his teeth in a signature mannerism. “Yes…well, our man didn’t take your personal life into account, Colonel. Took some doing, but I wanted you to be able to examine the whole ugly scene before we removed the body.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Go ahead, we’ll wait on you.”

  With no idea what to do and very much feeling the center of all eyes, Alex reluctantly stepped forward. First looking around the chair for any obvious clues, he motioned with his hand. “Lantern, please.”

  Someone moved forward and handed him one. Up close Flatterly wore a white shirt, tailored coat, fitted breeches and boots—the usual attire for a gentleman. The lamplight shone off diamond cufflinks, and his watch fob and chain were neatly in place. So was his cravat, expertly tied and in perfect order, draped over the hilt of the knife. Alex asked, “Has anyone searched his pockets?”

  Wright gave a short bark of a laugh. “We’ve done nothing except send for you. The police know a crime has occurred but have not been allowed inside, causing, I might say, a great deal of resentment toward the War Office.”

  Lucky him. Alex gingerly felt in the dead man’s coat pockets, coming up with a pipe, a snuff box and a bag of coins. The reek of death hung heavily in the stuffy space, but at least he was well used to that and it didn’t turn his stomach anymore. Cautiously reaching up, he grabbed the hilt of the knife and with some effort, tugged it free. The weapon was rather wicked-looking but unremarkable, perhaps belonging to a butcher. There were no markings.