He really is going to be fine, she cheered, coiled tension releasing like a great exhalation from her shoulders and back. Aware of the profound depth of her concern, she assured herself she would have felt the same for any injured person. But deep inside, she knew better.
As the minutes slipped past, the hands of a small mantel clock pointing toward midnight, she began to grow weary, the chair in which she’d sat for hours no longer comfortable.
She gazed at the empty half of the bed.
Should I?
No, she argued to herself, I cannot share a bed with the marquis!
Still, as the minutes ticked by and her eyelids began to droop, her resolve started to waver. What would it hurt if I stretched out on top of the covers? He’s sick and asleep. Chances are good he will sleep through the night.
At one o’clock, weary beyond measure, she gave up the fight and crept over to the vacant side of the bed. Taking off her shoes, she climbed into bed and curled up with her back to him. Instantly, Lily fell asleep.
Chapter Eleven
ETHAN OPENED HIS eyes to darkness.
A faint sliver of moonlight shone into the room through windows that were in the wrong position.
Not in my bedroom, he realized, nor in my own bed, the mattress under his back a bit lumpy. Groaning, he scrubbed his hands over his face and struggled to orient himself. Memories stole slowly over him, the pieces falling into place one by one.
The inn. I’m at an inn somewhere on the road between Richmond and London.
He sensed the hour was well past midnight and wondered how long he had been asleep. His last distinct memory was of drinking some foul-tasting brew the doctor had pressed upon him. At the time he’d hoped the potion contained only herbs and water, but the damn quack had added laudanum to the mix. He was sure of the addition, since his tongue was sticky with the sweet residue of the drug, his head muzzy as if his brain had been swaddled in cotton gauze.
At least the pain was gone from his neck, and the swelling as well, he discovered as he ran a palm over his flesh. He shifted, then stilled when his hip bumped against a soft shape huddled next to him.
Lily.
Despite the darkness and his less-than-peak physical condition, he had no difficulty recognizing the person sleeping at his side. In fact, he suspected he would have known Lily even if he were blind and deaf.
Angling his head, he caught a hint of the sweet vanilla fragrance of her skin, keenly aware of her womanly figure and the exquisite feminine curves that lay so tantalizingly near. If only there weren’t covers separating them, he would have slid closer so they could be touching. But Lily had chosen to lie on top of the blankets and leave him tucked safely and virtuously underneath.
How ironic, he mused, to finally be in bed with her and feel too worn to do anything about it!
He huffed out an inaudible sigh and lay unmoving for long moments. In that time he became aware of three things. He was hungry, thirsty, and needed to empty his bladder.
Deciding to take care of the most urgent matter first, he climbed from the bed and searched through the shadows for the commode. Once that bodily necessity was accomplished, he emerged from behind the privacy screen, taking care not to wake Lily.
When he found the food on the table, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Lily for her thoughtfulness. Tearing off a piece of bread, he added a wedge of cheese and made a small but satisfying meal. He ate a handful of fresh strawberries as well, then quenched his thirst with a glass of room-temperature lemonade. The repast had the added benefit of clearing a large measure of the lingering fog from his brain.
Now, if I could only get this awful aftertaste of laudanum out of my mouth.
He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d remembered seeing a toothbrush lying on the small dressing stand next to the commode. Returning there, he found the item, along with a tin of toothpowder that he hoped Lily wouldn’t mind sharing.
Feeling noticeably refreshed after scrubbing his teeth and tongue and washing his hands and face, he padded back to the bed. He hesitated only a moment before stripping off his shirt and waistcoat, deciding he would refrain from taking off his trousers, since such an act might leave Lily scandalized come morning.
Turning, he set a knee on the mattress with every intention of lowering himself into the bed and going back to sleep. That’s when he noticed the way Lily was huddled on her side, her arms wrapped close around herself as if she were cold.
I can’t leave her like that. Besides, it is ridiculous for us not to both share the covers.
With only her comfort in mind, he began the tenuous process of tugging the blanket and sheet out from under her recumbent form. He was certain she would rouse at any moment, but she slept through the entire process, sighing aloud in pleasure when he draped the covers over her body.
He was stretching out on his side of the bed when a fresh thought occurred. Is she sleeping in her stays? She was still wearing her gown, so chances were good she had left her corset in place too, especially without her lady’s maid to assist her as usual. He knew, from the remarks a few of his former bed partners had made over the years, that women tended to find the undergarment tolerable at best, always relieved to be rid of the stiff cloth-and-whalebone contraption at the end of a day.
With her back to him, finding the buttons on her dress proved a simple matter, even in the dark. In a thrice, he had them unfastened. With easy skill, he began to unlace the ties. Once those came loose, he slipped a hand around her front to pull the undergarment free. As he did, his hand brushed over one soft, pliant breast covered in nothing more than her thin lawn shift. Her nipple hardened instantly, the tight peak reaching out through the cloth as if begging for his touch.
His shaft sprang to attention with the quickness of a private saluting a general, snuggling its eager head against the graceful curve of her lower back. So much for my maladies impeding my sexual appetites, he thought. His head might not be crystal-clear yet and his body might still be in need of sleep, but his lower half was certainly alert and aware of what it wanted—aware of what it had been wanting all these long days and weeks.
He groaned quietly under his breath, telling himself to ease away and let her go. She was asleep and in no condition to make rational choices.
But even as he fought to end his ill-conceived embrace, his hand curled around her breast, cradling the supple roundness as his thumb began to stroke her of its own accord.
Her nipple tightened further, beading into a taut point while at her back his shaft began to throb with an almost unbearable ache.
Oh, good God, he cursed, how am I going to stop?
Caught in the grip of intense desire, he continued fondling her, slipping open the tie on her bodice so he could feel her warm, silky flesh against his palm.
Touching her bare breast only made matters worse, his fingers plucking gently at her nipple for a long moment before somehow he found the fortitude to break his contact with her.
His hands shook as he rolled away and flopped onto his back. Flinging an arm across his face, he lay in agony, his whole body on fire with a hunger to reach out and take her. But touching her that way would not be right, no matter how much misery he might currently be enduring.
Go to sleep, he ordered himself. Hah, as if that is going to happen, he countered, not with Lily lying here beside me.
A minute later she stirred, rolling onto her back and then over once more so she lay facing him. Not close enough apparently, she snuggled against him, curving an arm across the naked skin of his chest.
His entire frame tightened, and then he shuddered.
He must have made some sort of noise as well, since she stirred this time, raising her head slightly.
“Ethan?” she murmured.
His erection jerked and pulsed at the low, sleepy timber of her voice. “Yes, it’s me.”
“Are you all right?”
Lord, what a question. He wanted to tell her that he would be dandy if only she’
d throw a leg over his hips.
“I’m fine,” he said instead, his answer coming out through clenched teeth.
She roused a little more. “You do not sound all right. You sound distressed. Here, let me see.” Lifting a hand, she stroked her palm over his cheek.
He trembled, wanting to explode.
“You are a little warm.”
Hot. I am hot. Very, very hot.
“Does your head hurt?”
No, my shaft does, he thought, a rude part of him wishing he would tell her to move her hand and wrap it around the portion of his flesh that really needed her touch.
“No,” he grated out instead.
“Hmm, that’s good,” she murmured. “I was worried about you. So very worried.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.” She lowered her head to his shoulder and fell quiet, leaving him to wonder after a minute if she’d gone back to sleep. Then she spoke again, her fingers playing lightly over his collarbone. “Am I dreaming?”
He did his best to regulate his breathing, his blood thrumming beneath her touch. “No.”
“Hmm. Because this seems like one of my dreams.”
He stilled, intrigued. “Really?”
“Hmm hmm,” she murmured. “Though usually you’re kissing me.”
He smiled. “Am I?”
“And touching me…like you did that night in the garden.” She paused. “I liked that night in the garden.”
“Did you?” he affirmed, his words sounding throaty and low-pitched, even to his own ears. “I liked it too. What about this? Do you like this?”
Curving an arm around her back, he slipped his hand inside her loosened dress. In a seductive glide, he traced the skin along the length of her backbone.
She arched, a kind of purring mewl coming from her lips.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Angling her closer, he bent his head and captured her lips in a fervent, yet unhurried kiss, her mouth tasting sweeter than wild raspberries and more decadent than brandied whipped cream.
Deciding to make another attempt at removing her stays, he lifted her upward ever so slightly, and never breaking their kiss, slowly eased the undergarment free. Victorious, he tossed the corset toward what he hoped was the foot of the bed. The garment hit and slid to the wood-planked floor with a muffled thud, instantly forgotten.
Threading his fingers into her hair, he began plucking out pins, her tresses tumbling downward in a silky cascade that framed their faces like a curtain, the coppery shade so vibrant he thought he could detect hints of color even in the moonlight. Closing his eyes, he deepened their kiss, tangling their tongues together in a riotous joining that left each of them gasping for breath.
She moaned as he stroked her back under her shift in long, leisurely circles, his other hand roving lower in search of more bare skin. Catching the edge of her gown between his fingers, he inched the cloth upward until he found what he sought, his palm tingling as he curved it over the warm, satiny back of her knee just above her garter. Skimming upward, he roved over the sweet length of her thigh, then onward to settle across the lush curve of her delectable little buttocks.
Unable to restrain himself, he gave a gentle squeeze to one bare cheek.
She broke their kiss, a small cry falling from her lips. “Oh. You never did that in my dreams.”
“Did I not?” he growled, squeezing her lightly again before caressing that portion of her flesh with another set of lazy circles. “How remiss of me. Shall we attempt it again?”
Down went his hand, drifting slowly over her thigh and knee before retracing his original path. A tremor raced through her frame, strong enough for him to feel.
“Ethan,” she sighed on a near sob. “What are we doing?”
“What we should have been doing for weeks. What we were meant to do together.” Taking her mouth, he kissed her with a kind of silent desperation. “Do not tell me you don’t want this.”
“I…do. But I should not.”
“Why should you not? Does it not feel exquisite? Does it not feel right?”
Rotating his hand on her upper thigh, he moved his fingers around to trace the entrance to her inner feminine flesh. Without delving farther, he knew she was damp with desire.
Lily shuddered, her body in the grip of a driving need, a deep inward ache that begged to be assuaged—by Ethan.
He is right, she confessed. His touch does feel exquisite. So much so that she’d finally had to give up the illusion that she was caught up in some wonderful, half-waking dream. But I am not dreaming at all. Ethan really, truly is touching me and merciful heaven, I like it. Love it, if truth be told.
Nonetheless, she sensed that he would stop if she insisted. But did she really want to insist? And how could she possibly bear it if he did?
Calling upon all her old warnings and concerns, she waited for them to snap her out of her haze, to make her see reason and prudence. But her conscience stayed silent this time, refusing to lift so much as a finger in her defense.
Then Ethan caressed her again, stroking the trembling flesh no other man had ever touched.
Her mind grew dim.
“Yes,” she murmured, unable to form another coherent word. “Yes.” Leaning upward, she found his mouth with her own.
As if her willing response had unleashed some caged beast inside him, he growled low in his throat and began savaging her lips, her surrender apparently snapping the last tenuous hold he’d kept upon his restraint. Sliding his fingers into her hair, he cupped her head and angled her mouth so he could take her in deep, openmouthed kisses that made her mind spin and her body clamor.
Clasping her left thigh in his other hand, he drew her leg upward onto his stomach. Some thick, heavy protrusion strained upward as if struggling to burst free of his trousers, the flesh—his flesh—shifting in obvious eagerness as her knee rubbed across its length.
He groaned and kissed her harder.
Is that him? she wondered in amazement. His…male member?
A second later she had no time to think further as he slid a finger inside her. Shocked sensation broke like a fever through her body, her world narrowing abruptly down to his hand and the way he was stroking her with such incredible intimacy.
Slick and hot, her body welcomed his intrusion, the ache she’d felt earlier increasing threefold. Her hunger spiked again when he drew the finger out and returned with two.
Reacting without conscious thought, she bit his lower lip. He pulled back and paused before slowly licking the small wound. Then he was kissing her wildly again, while below his fingers glided in and out and in and out again.
She whimpered and broke away to bury her face against his neck, panting desperately for breath. But he wasn’t content with that arrangement. Leaving his fingers in place inside her, he shifted her body upward, sliding her over him until she lay with her chest near his face. Using his other hand, he yanked aside her already loosened bodice and shift and fastened his mouth to one naked breast.
His fingers started moving inside her again the same instant his lips began to suckle—hot, wet pulls that seemed to connect directly to the flesh throbbing between her legs.
As though from a distance, she heard herself moan, her hands coming up to cup his face, her fingers laced into his hair while he feasted upon her, both inside and out.
He scraped his teeth against her nipple and sent her whole body shaking. Held completely in his thrall, she could do nothing but feel as he shifted his hand and did something quite extraordinary with his fingertips.
A jolt of pleasure exploded inside her, stealing her breath as she cried out against the sensation, each nerve ending sparking with delight, weeping with bliss.
For a long moment her mind went blank.
“I’ll wager you never felt that with your husband,” he said, his lips momentarily releasing her nipple.
“Who?”
A healthy, satisfied chuckle came from his belly. Cradling her in his arms,
he rolled her to her back. “You’ll never forget me, my dear Lily. Once we’ve made love, my name will be forever burned on your soul.”
It is already, she realized, knowing she ought to be alarmed by the notion. Yet for now, all she could do was lie limp while he stripped off her dress and shift, leaving her naked except for her stockings and garters. Instead of removing those too, he sat up and thumbed free the buttons on his falls.
In the darkness she couldn’t see precise details, but she made out enough to give her pause. Unless she was misreading the dim angles of moonlight and shadow in the room, Ethan was big—huge, in fact—his male member protruding like a long, thick, stiff rod from between his muscled thighs.
How, she wondered, does he keep all that flesh tucked inside his trousers? And why haven’t I had the urge to stare at the area in the past? Her cheeks burned, and not from passion this time. Then a new thought occurred. Surely, he doesn’t intend to put that in me, does he? He’ll rend me in two!
But Ethan didn’t seem at all concerned as he flung his trousers aside and crawled toward her again. Stretching out carefully so very little of his weight actually rested upon her, he crushed his mouth to hers.
Lily tried to relax, tried to focus on the undeniably mesmerizing beauty of his kiss, but that hard, hot part of him was pressing against her belly, twitching slightly, almost as if it had a mind of its own.
His lips skimmed her cheek and nose and temple before roving over her throat, down to her collarbone, where he paused to lave and suckle a patch of skin in a way she suspected would leave a mark. His broad palms glided over her skin, pausing to play with her breasts before flowing over her hips and thighs, then down to caress one silk-covered calf.
The ache flowered again between her legs, leaving her edgy and in need. Shifting restlessly, his shaft rubbed between their bodies, jerking strongly this time.
She tensed.
“What is it?” he murmured, catching an earlobe between his teeth. “Is anything wrong?”
Using the warm, wet edge of his tongue, he licked around her ear, then behind it, scattering kisses against a spot that made her toes arch, and her pulse stutter and jump.
The Accidental Mistress Page 15
