Emily's Seduction

by Natasha Blackthorne

  Her head moved; she was nodding. “Why must he insist on watching? Isn’t the shame great enough already?”

  Futile rage swept through him, strong enough to kill the devil, had he only stood a chance of getting to him. “He always watches. He envies that which he cannot do. Pretend he’s not there.” He pressed a soft kiss just below her ear. “Pretend we were married this morning, we spent the day feasting and celebrating with our families. You had a beautiful silk gown, there was a huge bridal cake, your father drank too much and your mother cried.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I can picture it.”

  “They are happy to see us wed. We’re in love…”

  “Yes, yes we are.”

  “We’ve courted a long time. We’ve waited forever for tonight and now it’s finally here.”

  “Yes.”

  Against his fingers, her body finally began to respond, wetness slicking her virgin quim.

  “Stop chattering and get on with it.” The devil’s voice echoed from his divan across the lavish chamber. “Or are you in need of further persuasion?”

  Alex put his forehead to hers. “I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. He positioned himself and thrust forward, deflowering a woman he’d no legal or moral right to.

  Alex opened his eyes. Grey light flooded from the halfway open curtains. The placid safety of his home, sombre and dignified in its American furnishings, was always a shock. In the wake of the dream, he waited for the usual shame to flood him. The sense of being unclean. Followed by the cold sweat and irresistible urge to vomit his guts out.

  The moments ticked by and he felt nothing but an aching remorse. He should have been able to do something to prevent what had happened in that madman’s domain in Constantinople. Yet he’d done nothing but cave in and give the bastard exactly what he’d wanted. Well, not exactly what he’d wanted. That had been the final push to the horrific end.

  An image of water vapour and water trailing down blue and yellow tiles flashed into his mind. He pushed it out. A feeling of disloyalty immediately arose.

  I am sorry, I just don’t want to think about it any longer.

  Was it wrong to want to forget? To want to focus on his life with Emily and make a family with her when Catarina would never have the chance to enjoy a real wedding and the joys of married life? She would never know the joy of being a mother. All because he had failed her when she had needed him most.

  A man did not fail those he loved. At least not a man who would call himself a man.

  Alex sighed, rose from the bed and went to pour himself a brandy. He sat in the wingchair, sipping the burning liquid.

  Yes, he’d always bear the shame of what had ultimately happened in Turkey. The blame. But he wanted to forget.

  The yellow and blue tiles flashed into his mind again. Compelling him to glance down. Just one glance. He’d be undone if he did and it would take hours to recover. He steeled his mind against the compulsion.

  But his inner demons never gave up easily. They niggled him with the truth.

  She did it because she had no hope—you gave her no hope. Glance down and relive it, again and again and again. Because she never will. Only you can keep her memory alive. Her own family disowned her memory, denied her child. Only you remain.

  He slammed the glass down on the window ledge. Damn, he was tired of flogging himself with these images. He pressed his hands to his forehead—he just wanted them to vanish and never return.

  “Alex?” Emily’s voice was soft, sounding concerned. She touched his head.

  He reached for her, pulled her close, nestling his head upon her flat yet soft belly. She still smelt of the gillyflower-scented water he’d sponged her with before she’d slept. She remained quiet, asking no questions as she stroked his hair. His body shook with silent, dry sobs. He did not deserve her sweetness but he craved it, he needed it so badly.

  * * * *

  Emily sat at the kitchen table, idly sipping at black coffee. She did not regret what had happened the night before. Not precisely. It had been somehow right in the moment it had happened. But it could never be right again. She would never share herself with another man again. But she was grateful for the experience.

  Any artist needed novel experiences to see life from new angles.

  Boots on the hardwood floor made her heart leap . Alex had gone already. There would be no servants until Sunday. She jerked her head up.

  Peter walked into the kitchen.

  She gasped. “I thought you left.”

  “I went to one of the guest chambers and proceeded to get very drunk.” He placed a hand to his head. Then he looked up again. “Please don’t be uncomfortable with me because of what happened last night.”

  At Peter’s words, Emily inhaled sharply and glanced down at her coffee cup, smiling to hide her nervousness.

  “It was just sexual dalliance,” he added, as if this would make her less uneasy.

  A nervous laugh escaped her.

  “And it was nothing Alex and I have not done with others.”

  She swallowed hard, called on all her bravery and stared back up into his boyish, handsome face. His startling sky-blue eyes. “I am just not quite used to being so indifferent about things like this. I was completely innocent before Alex.”

  “I never thought otherwise, though, you know, innocence is not always a virtue.”

  “For women, it always is.”

  Peter made a wry expression. “No, I don’t believe that. Virgins are a dreadful bore.” His eyes glittered warmly.

  “You actually asked—I mean you suggested such a thing to Alex and he…he…”

  He shook his head. “I was tweaking at Alex. He has been so deliciously touchy and vulnerable of late. I tell you, I expected to get my arse trounced. Certainly I didn’t expect him to take me up on it.” He straightened his cravat. “This is not a good thing. No, it is not. Alex will not look on this well in his reflection upon it.”

  “If you knew that, then why did you go along with it?”

  He grinned. “Ah, but you were very enchanting…so uninhibited. How could I possibly resist? I don’t regret it. I can’t.”

  She nodded slowly then took a deep drink of coffee.

  “I don’t know what is wrong with Alex lately. Delaying the announcement of your engagement. Keeping you here in his house while his aunt is away.” He raised his brows. “Doing…allowing what he did last night.” He sighed. “He’s not the cousin I used to know. He hasn’t been since he returned from France—or wherever the devil he spent those missing years.”

  She caught her breath then leaned forward. “What do you know about those years?”

  “Probably no more than you’ve heard from others. His arguments with his father. His decision to sign aboard a privateer rather than attend Harvard. The wreck of the Pollyanna, his years in France when he didn’t bother to inform anyone that he was alive.”

  “You know something else…you must.”

  Peter’s expression went grim and he rubbed his chin . “There was something.”

  “Well, you must tell me. I need to understand him.”

  “I had this mistress and she… Oh…” He laughed, the sound ringing with discomfort. “We were at an end and she didn’t take it well. Alex—he is too sympathetic to women. He took her on. She wasn’t really someone who could hold his attention any more than she’d held mine. She was appeared very quiet and meek at first but she was very volatile in her emotions. God, her tantrums could wear a man down. Alex grew weary of her quicker than I did. It was too soon after we had ended and she was never strong of mind. She took her own life rather…” His voice grew thin and he cleared his throat. “Dramatically.”

  The floor seemed to drop several feet at once.

  “What did she do?” She whispered, as if that could soften the moment.

  He went chalk pale and would not look at her. “She threw herself from the roof of his mansion—no, not here, on the
Schuylkill.”

  Poor Alex! Emily put her hand to her throat. “My goodness!”

  “He did not take it well. He blamed himself but Alice was—” He glanced up at her and chuckled nervously. “Eh, I ought not have said her name. You cannot repeat her name to Alex. Promise me.”

  Emily stared at him, dumbstruck with shock at his tale. “Of course.”

  Peter took a deep breath and sighed. “Good. Because it won’t help anything. It will only make him worse about what…whatever is preying on his mind now.”

  He looked spent, even a bit ill. She felt the same. She poured them both another cup of coffee and in silence they drank. Slowly she regained her equilibrium.

  “Whatever is plaguing Alex, he must have space and time to sort things out.”

  “I think what he should have is a stout kick to the arse.” Peter frowned then rubbed the back of his neck. “Emily, I came here last night to convince you to come with me to my sister’s house. We could still go there. It’s early and Cornelia always has a clutch of tabbies over on Saturdays. We could simply pretend that you spent the night there.”

  “Oh, no, I think I’d better stay here.” She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders to stretch an unaccustomed ache out of them. “I should be here when he returns. He was acting rather strangely this morn.”

  “Emily, if you stay here with him and it becomes known—and it will—you will be ruined if your wedding doesn’t happen.”

  “So if I go with you it will look like I don’t trust him.”

  “I don’t care what it looks like, it is what you should do.”

  “I trust him. I have to trust him.”

  * * * *

  That evening, she woke to the touch of lips on her neck.

  “Wake up, my darling.” Alex’s deep voice pulled her closer to full wakefulness.

  It was hard to believe she had fallen asleep again this evening for they had slept late, long past noon. After that strange encounter early this morning, she hadn’t expected him to wake in such a distant mood. However, he’d been ready for her and had taken her with such urgent need; there hadn’t been time for her to respond. After that he’d dressed and been gone all afternoon. Now Emily hid her lonely disappointment. She couldn’t be always expecting to cling on his arm, could she?

  But still, after the amazing carnality and even more astonishing closeness of last night and the unexplained emotionalism of this morning…

  He lay beside her on his bed and she moved to curl herself into him, laying her head on his shoulder. He caressed her back. “What are your thoughts about what happened last night?”

  Her ears burned. Doing it had been one thing but she hadn’t expected to discuss it.

  “I think it was diverting and interesting.” There, that had sounded cool and sophisticated, hadn’t it?

  “And Peter is a fairly good kisser?” Alex’s tone was dry.

  Heat suffused her face. She definitely did not want to discuss last night.

  “Hmm?” He pressed his face into the curve of her neck.

  She rolled into the pillow, hiding her face but unwittingly baring her neck as a result. He laid a trail of kisses along her nape and, in her nervousness, it tickled. She giggled.

  “Come now, Emily, I want to talk about this. I want to know you are not distressed over what happened.”

  She turned to face him, looking up through strands of her mussed hair. “You seduced me!”

  His eyes widened. Had he flinched a little or was that her imagination?

  “Yes, I did.”

  His answer startled her. She had expected him to deny it.

  His handsome features contorted with concern. “Are you angry with me over it?”

  She smiled and touched his face. “No.”

  He closed his eyes, turned his face and pressed his lips into her palm. She sensed his tension release. Goodness, he had worried that she would be angry over his seduction? If he felt that way, then why had he seduced her to begin with? It came to her with clarity that the seduction had been part of his need. She didn’t understand why but it had been important to him that she be seduced. Else he would have spoken with her about what he’d intended beforehand.

  I still do not know him. Not truly.

  A curl of unease wound into her belly, eroding the certainty she’d felt just the night before. She frowned. Of course she knew him. She trusted him implicitly. Didn’t she?

  He ran a finger down between her eyes. “Are you sure you aren’t angry or upset over it? Don’t demure on this. Tell me candidly what you are feeling.”

  “It was a little unexpected and quite startling but I am fine now.” Was she? She didn’t completely know. But she was mature and strong enough to cope with her mixed feelings on her own. She offered him a dazzling smile. “Truthfully.”

  “That’s good because it was simply play. A way to increase our pleasure.”

  No, it hadn’t been. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name. It had been very important to him. Had filled some deep and mysterious need. But he had chosen to put keeping his secrets over closeness and trust in her. Her chest tightened with her hurt. Well, had she really expected to win that easily? The darkness that held him in its grip was strong, maybe stronger than she was. Yet she couldn’t give up now.

  “I don’t want to do that again, with another man.” She was certain of that much.

  “All right, my love.”

  “But I am glad that it happened. I understand the difference now between unleavened lust and love. And I am glad it happened with Peter and no other. I don’t think I could have felt that way or been comfortable with anyone else.”

  He raised his head and looked down at her. “He’s very taken with you, my love. And he’s quite used to getting his way with women.” He grinned. “But you’re mine.”

  A shadow passing in his eyes told her that, despite his sensual enjoyment and mysterious emotional need for what had transpired last night, it had cost him dearly to allow Peter to touch her. Her stomach flipped and the chamber went a little wobbly. She closed her eyes. Dear God, last night had been dangerous in a way she’d not realised at first. A gamble made on their love, their connection. It might have just as easily driven Alex away from her as brought him close.

  She opened her eyes and studied him a moment. Who was this enigmatic man she loved so dearly? Who was he really? What had he been before that was so terrible he must keep it from her?

  “You and Peter, you’ve done that before, haven’t you?”

  He laughed softly. “You mustn’t ask a man about his life before you.”

  “But you did?”

  “Yes, but there were no rules before, only total carnal indulgence.”

  “Oh,” she said as his words drew a vivid mental image. Thinking about Alex involved in something that could be termed carnal indulgence was intriguing and strangely arousing—so long as it had happened before he’d met her. Desire began to drive away the other, more disquieting thoughts. Whatever he’d been or done, the sensual aspects of his experience continued to fascinate her.

  “I have a present for you.”

  “Oh, two presents in two days. I am a lucky lady.”

  From the height of his propped-up pillow, he looked at her, grinned, and the glint to his grey-blue eyes made her belly flutter. He reached into his dressing gown pocket and withdrew eight inches of glittering dark blue glass that—remarkably—resembled a phallus.

  She caught her breath. “Whatever is that?”

  “It is called a dildo. It comes from the Orient where their women have a little more need of such things than here.” He laid the…the dildo down on the bed.

  She stared at it with an open mouth. People actually kept such things? It was a little shocking and yet she couldn’t help admiring the workmanship, the perfect symmetry and intricate detail. It was a work of art and perhaps even very expensive.

  He rose from the bed, went to her washstand and brought her bottle of bathing oi
l to her. “Give me your hand.”

  Curious as to what he had in mind, she put her palm out. He poured a generous amount of oil into her hand then wrapped both her hands about the smooth coolness. “I bought this for you so that you needn’t feel so unhappy any time we might part in the future.”

  She glanced at the cold, dark blue glass glittering in the firelight. That would never, ever make a substitute for warm, living, throbbing flesh.

  It seemed the most sinful thing he’d introduced her to yet. Totally unnatural.

  He cupped both his hands over hers and urged her to roll the glass dildo back and forth between her palms. “Do you feel it taking on your body’s heat? This is how you prepare it for use.”

  “But we don’t need to use it.” She cast a dubious glance down his body. “Unless you know something I do not?”

  He laughed. “Sometimes the use of toys can heighten things.”

  She gave the dildo another doubtful glance. “If you say so.”

  He pulled the covers back, baring her nakedness. Chilled air rushed over her body and gooseflesh rose in its wake.

  “I shall show you. Roll over on your back.”

  She lay back, feeling a little uneasy about this type of experiment. Why was it even needful? The thought of that cold, alien object in her body seemed perverse.

  He moved her hands, which were still wrapped around the dildo, down her body. He touched her thigh, running his hand up the inside. She spread her legs for him. But then he put that glass object to her flesh. Her heat level decreased a slight bit.

  “Must we really use that thing? We don’t need it.”

  He caressed her belly in broad, circular sweeps. “If you let me show you, you just might change your mind on that point.”

  He placed the dildo on her stomach and got up from the bed and left the chamber. She lay listening to the log in the hearth crack and pop, and eyed the phallus again, watching the firelight shine through the blue glass, making it appear to glow. That thing looked wholly alien upon her flesh.