by Sahara Kelly
Sipping her second brandy—goodness where had that come from? —Letitia’s mind wandered to James. He glanced at her now and again, with a smile or a shared jest. There was something in his gaze today, thought, something a little more intense perhaps. Then again, she wondered if she was just imagining it.
Suddenly all the hints she’d been receiving crawled into her mind and settled there, eroding the barrier she’d erected to prevent this sort of thing. What if? What if she asked James to help her out with her writing problems? Would he be willing?
Her muscles tightened at the thought and her reservations flew up the chimney.
James was sitting next to her on the sofa, his arm stretched comfortably along the back behind her. Sighing, she took a healthy sip of her brandy.
“It’s a good year,” remarked James.
“Mmm.” She looked at him, noting the planes of his handsome face and the flicker of the fire reflected in his dark eyes.
Paul and Harry were engaged in a lively debate concerning art and artists, and finally Paul turned to James. “I am about to kidnap Miss Harry.
“Are you?” blinked Letitia. “For what purpose, sir? Some nefarious plan I assume?”
“Of course.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows as Harriet giggled. “In fact, I am going to show her your paintings, James. The ones you’ve hung and the ones that still await your pleasure.” He stood, “Believe it or not, ladies, this London fop here has an unexpectedly excellent taste in art. And he’s just obtained the most magnificent work by a chap called Turner. It’s…engrossing to say the least and I want to hear what Miss Harry thinks of it.”
“I shall look forward to hearing her opinion,” said James casually. “You know where they are, Paul.”
“Indeed.” He held out his hand to Harriet. “Shall we, Miss Harry? I will expect you to be honest in your opinions, you know. I will not tolerate prevarication on such an important topic as art.” He opened the door for her. “However, on any other topic, you may freely prevaricate.”
They left the room on a laugh, and as the door closed, Letitia became aware that she and James were now alone.
They’d been alone before…but somehow, at this instant of time, it was different.
His hand drifted to her neck, and she lifted her gaze to his as his fingertip barely grazed the bare skin.
She shivered, then took a breath. “James,” she whispered. “I need to ask you something.”
*~~*~~*
A man only had so much willpower, thought James to himself, as he finally indulged a simple desire—to touch Letitia’s skin.
When she turned to him with those blue eyes of hers sending lightning bolts of arousal to his cock, he was lost. Whatever she wanted to ask…his house, his stable, his fortune…anything she wanted was hers.
He fought for control. “Ask away, my dear.”
She put her snifter down carefully on a side table. “I’m not sure how to present my question.”
“The simplest way is often the best.”
“Yes, well, you see it’s about—about this book I’ve written.” She fiddled with her skirt. “I believe I did mention I was working on one?”
James’s jaw was in danger of locking as he bit down on the shock of lust tearing its way up his spine. “Yes, I think I recall you saying that,” he managed.
“Well, you see, I actually finished it and sent it to a London publisher and he’s interested in publishing it and he has a contract ready…” It all tumbled out in one long breath as Letitia revealed her secret.
James gulped. “That is amazing news. Congratulations, Letitia—how exciting.” He tried to replace unrequited lust with excitement. Apparently it worked, since her smile broadened.
“It is indeed. I don’t need to mention how thrilled I am with the notion of being a published author.”
“Of course.”
“But there is one slight problem…”
“Well, I would imagine there might be a few,” he said calmly, while his balls solidified beneath his breeches and his cock threatened torture if he didn’t do something about it soon. “Publishing a book is no small enterprise. A few stumbling blocks along the way are only to be expected.”
She nodded. “This is somewhat more than a stumbling block though. And I’m hoping…” she took a breath, “I’m hoping you may be able to help.”
He inflicted even more agony upon himself by resting his hand companionably on her shoulder, sternly telling it that her breast was not available for caressing. Yet. “Anything I can do. You have only to ask.”
“Right then.” She straightened, turned to him and looked him firmly in the eye. “I want you to educate me in the sensations that accompany physical intimacy between a man and a woman. I need to know what it’s like to be touched that way.”
The silence was broken by the sharp snap of the fire.
“Say something, dammit.” Letitia leaned forward and thumped his knee.
It was everything he’d wanted to hear from her since he read her damn book. James smiled, a slow smile that belied the rapid beating of his heart. “Of course.”
Then he seized her. “Come here.”
She landed on his lap with a gasp and a swooshing bouquet of skirts and ruffles. “James,” she squawked, grabbing his arms to steady herself. “What…”
His mouth silenced her, finding her lips without any difficulty, then urging them to part with his tongue.
A moan slipped out as he bent her more comfortably in his arms, pressing their faces together, plundering within her mouth as she opened and let him inside.
Within moments she was just where he wanted her, lying across him, her head trapped between the back of the sofa and him. He could claim all he wanted, play all he wanted, and let his hand roam wherever he wanted. And he wanted it all.
Sweet and tangy, Letitia’s kiss—after the initial shock of the contact—became everything he could have imagined, and more. She moved a little, tentatively exploring with her tongue, hesitant at first. He loved that. It told him that he was the first to kiss her this way, the first man to discover the secrets lurking behind her lips. The first man to taste the unique flavour that was her.
She let her hand move to his neck, her fingers finding his skin and sending shudders of pleasure up and down his back. He crushed her to him, tossing gentility to the winds, kissing her as if he’d never kissed another woman in his life. He was starving and she was a ten-course meal.
As their lips met, clashed, parted and met again, James was ever aware of the response she drew forth from him. How could he ignore the straining cock and the abrasion of his breeches, which gave new meaning to the word uncomfortable. But he knew that his ultimate goal, to have her in all the ways there were, would have to wait. It was not for now, not for today.
Today was for her introductory lesson in pleasure.
Casting himself in the role of teacher shifted things a little for him, and he was able to focus on her needs more effectively and set his own aside. The kisses were wonderful, arousing both of them. Perhaps it was time to move to the next step.
He pulled his head back, looking at her, loving the flush in her cheeks and the heavy eyelids over blue eyes that were shining with excitement.
“God, James,” she whispered. “I had no idea…”
“There’s more,” he whispered back. “So much more…”
She swallowed, her throat rippling beneath his gaze. “Show me.”
“All right. A little more then…”
Her skin was ivory and silk as he slid his fingers from beneath her ear down to her shoulder and beneath the sleeve of her dress. The garment was cut in the fashionable style—low at the neck with puffs of fabric at the shoulders. In deference to the season, there was lace around her arms to her wrists, but that was no impediment to James’s objective.
He eased the dress away from her shoulder, kissing the skin as he bared it, listening to the tell-tale little gasps, sighs, sensing the movements of
her body as she surrendered to this new experience.
Tugging the gown further down her arm, the inevitable result occurred, and one breast emerged from its cocoon. A firm globe tipped in dark rosy skin, the sight of it drove James’s personal torture to levels he’d never believed he could withstand.
She stilled, holding her breath as she became aware of what had happened.
Instead of unfastening his breeches and plundering this woman, fucking her until they both screamed themselves hoarse, he once again fought with his baser instincts…allowing himself the one thing he knew she’d never felt before.
He lowered his head, and gently—oh so gently—he began to caress her breast.
At first it was delicate strokes of his fingers, just holding, cupping, letting her grow accustomed to his touch. Then he ran his thumb softly across her nipple, watching the nub rise to a sudden peak, pebbling sharply in response.
She sucked in a harsh breath. “God, oh God, James…that’s…”
“I know,” he whispered. And then he kissed the rosy peak, and followed that by opening his mouth and suckling as much of her breast as he could, teasing the nipple with his tongue, swirling it around and pushing the globe into his mouth. He sucked harder, feeling her entire body writhe against him, trapped as it was between him and the sofa.
He sucked again, repeating his actions, but this time he freed his hand and moved it down, grabbing her skirts and uncovering her leg.
Within seconds he’d found bare skin and he traced it up, up over her knee to her thigh, his fingers pressing, dragging as he moved his hand toward the heat he could already feel coming from the top of her thighs.
She moaned and wriggled, parting her legs, obeying an instinct she probably never knew she had.
And when he found her, when his hand reached her womanly places and firmly cupped the soft, wet folds—she cried out.
That was the moment James knew he must stop.
Because if they went any further it would be dangerous, both to the plan fermenting in the back of his mind, and to Letitia’s reputation.
It was agony, but it had to be done.
He released her breast and gave it a final kiss, just as he removed his hand from her sex and smoothed down her gown over her nakedness. Then he sat up, eased her into an upright position, and helped her adjust her clothing.
Finally, when he thought he might be able to speak real words, he lifted her chin with one finger and made her look at him.
“That, dear Letitia, is only the beginning…”
He could have sworn her eyes crossed slightly. “Really?” Her voice trembled a little. “There’s more?”
“So much more.”
A sound outside shattered the sensual connection and Letitia shivered and straightened, coming to her feet and shaking out her skirts.
James stood as well. “Don’t worry. They will not know.”
She nodded. “Will you teach me? Show me more?”
He gazed at her. There was no other answer, of course. “Yes.”
*~~*~~*
Harriet and Letitia stood on the steps of FitzArden Hall, bidding farewell to their host and his friend. The worst of the rain had stopped, but the day was still grey and damp, and both women were well protected in their heavy cloaks.
“Thank you again, gentlemen,” said Letitia with a smile. “A most enlightening afternoon, and very enjoyable.”
“Indeed,” echoed Harriet. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. DeVoreaux. I learned so much from you about paintings today.”
“My pleasure, Miss Harry. Letitia, it’s always a delight to share your company.”
“Ladies, you are always welcome.” James’s gaze seemed to linger on Letitia.
Harriet noted the slight blush that James’s words engendered. And wondered what had occurred during the hour they had been apart. She was determined to find out.
Their departure was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a traveling carriage approaching, bumping over the stony ground of the drive up to the front steps. It disgorged two footmen, strapping men of striking appearance who turned to assist a third passenger from the interior.
She was stunning; tall and elegantly gowned, her chestnut hair managing to glow beneath her bonnet despite the clouds and drizzle.
“James, darling…” She ignored the footmen, gathering her skirts and floating up the steps, past the two women without a blink and ending up with both arms around James. “London has been quite intolerable without you. I had to come and find out what keeps you in this desolate country hideaway, and of course to see if you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”
With that, she grabbed him by both ears and kissed him passionately.
While Harriet, Letitia and Paul stared at the tableau in stunned silence.
James seemed stunned as well, since for a few moments he couldn’t move, and remained stock still while the woman wrapped herself around him and prolonged their kiss.
Harriet turned to Letitia. “We should leave.”
Letitia, white as a sheet and with an expression that would have made marble look fragile, nodded. “You are correct. We should.” She spun on her heel, nodded at Paul and started off down the steps.
A tinkling laugh followed. “Oh, I do apologize. How rude of me.” She disengaged herself from James. “Do introduce me, darling. Or are these just country maids delivering sheep or something?”
James frowned. “Of course not. This is Miss Letitia Ridlington, from Ridlington Chase, and her companion, Miss Harry.”
“Ah, Ridlington. Yes, I believe I met a very handsome Baron by that name not too long ago. Splendid eyebrows, but completely resistant to my lures. Quite frustrating.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and sighed. Then noticed Paul. “Oh, but you’re not a Ridlington, are you? James,” she glanced over her shoulder. “Who is this delicious gentleman? He looks quite shocked. We must enlighten him.”
She offered her hand to Paul, ignoring the two women on the steps as if they didn’t exist. “Since James has lost his voice at the moment, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Augusta Pierpoint. Lady Augusta Pierpoint.” She smiled seductively. “I’m James’s mistress.”
Chapter Twelve
“Letitia, will you please slow down?”
“Why? What is there to slow down for?” Letitia shot the response over her shoulder as she marched down the path toward Ridlington. “I want to put as much distance between myself and that…that…”
“I understand,” panted Harriet. “But tripping over our feet or these roots isn’t going to assist matters one whit, so please walk more slowly. Have pity on me, at least.”
That did the trick. Letitia finally slowed from the gallop she’d started once reaching the bottom of the FitzArden Hall steps. Harriet had been convinced that she would break her neck if she wasn’t more careful—her descent over those slippery marble slabs was enough to turn a brave man pale as a ghost.
She had sent a fast prayer upward and then hurried after Letitia, wondering if she’d be able to pick up the bits when the inevitable disaster occurred. But fortunately for all, it didn’t, and Letitia reached the last stair safely, ignored the carriage and the two footmen and set off at a pace that made brisk look like a casual stroll.
Hence Harriet’s breathless pleas.
They were well into the forest, and as they slowed, the trees around them whispered softly. A few lingering raindrops pattered down, and the air thickened with the onset of some early evening fog.
Harriet walked beside Letitia in silence for a while, not sure how to approach this woman who had become her friend and confidante in such a short time.
Finally, Letitia spoke. “How could he?”
“I don’t know.”
“I had no idea…he’s never mentioned…”
“Well he wouldn’t, would he?” said Harriet reasonably. “A gentleman doesn’t speak of such things to a lady.”
Letitia snorted. “He’s no gentleman, then. And I suppo
se I’m no lady.”
“Of course you are. Just because that woman said what she said, doesn’t make you any less of a lady.”
“I know that,” snapped Letitia. “It wasn’t her. It was us. Me and James.”
Harriet ignored the argumentative tone and thought about that for a few minutes. And light dawned. “While you were alone…” She left the comment hanging in the air.
Letitia came to a halt, and to her dismay Harriet caught the glisten of tears on her friend’s cheeks. “Oh Letitia, please. Don’t upset yourself.” She pulled out a handkerchief and passed it over. “Here, dry your tears and tell me what happened.”
“I’ve been a bloody fool, that’s what happened,” answered Letitia. She took the handkerchief, dried her eyes and then blew her nose. “I’ve been yet another victim of the typical Ridlington traditions. We cannot and should not care for anyone.”
She handed the handkerchief back to Harriet, who looked at it then carefully put it away in her pocket. “You have feelings for James, of course. And knowing he has a mistress…I’m sure that came as a shock.” Harriet tried to keep her voice level. This was not the time for an argument, it was the time for Letitia to sort out her emotions.
“I thought I had feelings for James,” she answered. “Especially after this afternoon. I asked him, Harriet. I asked him to help me with those feelings, those sensations that were apparently missing from my book.” She shook her head. “God knows why I did. It must have been the damn brandy.”
Harriet managed to repress a chuckle. “Don’t blame the drink, dear Letitia. I believe you wanted James to help you. It was a convenient excuse but not the reason for your actions.”
Letitia waved her hand airily. “Whatever the cause or the reason, it happened. He…well, he kissed me.”
“Ah.” Harriet let that sink in for a bit. “Was it a nice kiss?”
Letitia rounded on her. “Nice? Nice? A kiss on the hand is nice, a peck on the cheek is nice. This was…not nice at all. It was…” She struggled for words. “It was as if every sunrise and every sunset exploded around me at the same time.”
