Jilted by a Scoundrel

by Cheryl Holt

  And he’d been so miserable! So enough was enough!

  He didn’t knock on her door because he wouldn’t supply her with a chance to deny him entrance. He simply barged in.

  A candle burned on the dresser, so he could clearly see her. She was ready for bed, wearing a nightgown and naught else. It was a summery garment, with no sleeves and tiny straps holding it up, so her arms and much of her bosom were bare. Her beautiful blond hair was down and brushed out.

  “Hello, Winnie.”

  “Get out.”

  “No.”

  He spun the key in the lock and stuck it in his pocket, so no one could come in or go out until he was finished with her. He had no idea what his mission was to be, but that fact would not discourage him. He would blunder forward and let Fate determine the ending.

  “I don’t like the look in your eye,” she said.

  “I don’t care.”

  “You haven’t glanced in my direction since our quarrel, and you have the gall to bluster in? What is wrong with you?”

  “You are wrong with me. I was perfectly fine before you showed up at Dunworthy.”

  “You’re being completely absurd. As usual.”

  “It’s been a whole week since you cleaned my office, and it’s become messy.”

  “It’s eleven o’clock at night. You’re here to scold me about your office?”

  “That—and other things.”

  “If you’re irked by the situation, why don’t you discuss it with your precious relatives? I’m certain they’ll jump to correct any problems.”

  He shook a finger at her. “You haven’t commenced a single new project either.”

  “Why would I have? It’s not as if you appreciate anything I do.”

  “Well, that, Miss Watson, is where you are entirely mistaken.”

  The room was very small, and he was across it in two strides. He swooped in, then he was kissing her and kissing her. For a brief instant, she resisted, then she relented. Suddenly, they were wild as a pair of doxies wrestling over a gold coin.

  They fought and scratched and bit. They couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t grip each other tightly enough.

  She was light as a feather, and he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. He fell on top of her, his large body pressing her into the mattress. Still, he was kissing her, the embrace more passionate by the second.

  He felt as if he’d been drowning, and she’d thrown him a rope. He felt as if he was careening down a raging river on a raft, that he was out of control and about to smash into the rocks up ahead.

  Who kissed like this? Who carried on like this? He was acting as if he couldn’t live without her.

  His hands were busy, roaming over her torso, learning her size and shape. She was his—he understood that now—and he would touch her as no man ever had and no man ever would.

  Previously, he’d asked her if she would be his mistress, and she’d refused to consider it, but he’d proved that refusal wasn’t an option. She couldn’t reside in the castle without their being lovers. Their physical attraction was too potent, and they couldn’t ignore it.

  Gradually, he was removing her nightgown, tugging down the straps to reveal her perfect breasts. He dipped down and sucked on her nipples, pinching them, laving them, until she was writhing beneath him.

  He kept working the garment lower, past her waist, her hips. She was so overcome that she didn’t notice until he yanked it off her feet and she was naked.

  She shrieked with dismay and grabbed for the blankets, but he wasn’t about to let her cover herself. He started kissing her again, as he began fumbling with his own clothes. He was desperate to feel her, bare skin to bare skin, and he jerked at his shirt and pulled it off.

  As he stretched out again, as his chest connected with hers, he was surprised they didn’t ignite in flames. The sensation was that hot.

  “I can’t do this with you,” she said, trying to squirm away.

  “Yes, you can.”

  “I need my nightgown. I have to put it back on.”

  “No.”

  “I hate you!”

  He chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

  “I do. I really, really do.”

  He wasn’t about to bicker, wasn’t about to listen to her harangue.

  There were boons he wanted from her that he hadn’t yet received. First of all, he had to garner some carnal satisfaction. If he fornicated with her, he was sure some of his fascination would wane.

  Was that where this was leading? Were they about to fornicate? She was naked, and he was halfway there. Would he proceed to the worst conclusion of all?

  He couldn’t decide the best course, and he figured he’d have their bodies decide for them. After all, everyone agreed that a man could be swept away by lust, and when he was immersed in an amorous foray, it wasn’t possible to refrain.

  He dipped to her breasts again, as his naughty hand slid up her thigh to the woman’s hair shielding her private parts. He glided a finger into her sheath, then another, and he stroked them in and out, in and out. She was a very sensual creature, so it was easy to send her soaring to the heavens.

  She arched up and cried out, then she reached her peak and tumbled down. As she crashed at the bottom, he was grinning, preening, and utterly impressed with how swiftly he’d overwhelmed her.

  “What was that?” she asked when she could speak again.

  “That was sexual pleasure.”

  “Is it what happens in the marital bed?”

  “It’s a sampling of it.”

  “Am I…I…with child now?”

  Her question reminded him of her innocent state, and it should have given him pause over his plans for her, but it didn’t. She was twenty and much too old to still be a virgin. He would be delighted to relieve her of the chastity she should have surrendered ages ago.

  Why had no determined fellow ever taken it from her? How lucky for him that he would have the chance.

  “No, you’re not with child,” he told her.

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes.”

  She blew out a heavy breath and stared at the ceiling, looking uncomfortable and nervous about how to act.

  “I had no idea that could occur,” she said.

  “We don’t tell maidens about how fun it can be. If any of you guessed, you’d be ruining yourselves all over the place.”

  She snorted with amusement—or perhaps disgust. “Let me up. I have to put on some clothes.”

  “No, I like you just like this.”

  “It’s embarrassing. I’ve never been undressed around a man before.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You don’t have to do anything.”

  “At least allow me to pull up a blanket.”

  She gazed at him, her blue eyes beseeching, and her imploring expression should have pushed him off the ledge where he was currently perched. But he’d been hovering on this salacious cliff ever since he’d met her, and he couldn’t walk away from the abyss. He had to jump over and discover what would transpire when he landed.

  “No blanket,” he said. “No clothes.”

  “You’re being a bully.”

  “Yes, I admit it.”

  “You like coercing me.”

  “You like giving in.”

  She glared at him forever, then muttered, “Maybe.”

  “It’s the only path for us, Winnie.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m positive there are numerous other paths that would suffice.”

  “Why would we choose them? This one is so much more satisfying.”

  He started in again, and she wailed with a kind of excited resignation, as if she was finally growing to comprehend—as had he—that they had to continue on. There was no other option.

  He drove her up the spiral of passion, playing with her breasts, sucking on her nipples. She jo
ined in, stroking her palms over his shoulders and back, each touch of her hands like a bolt of lightning to his loins.

  Slowly, methodically, he was opening his trousers, tugging them down around his flanks as he widened her thighs, as his torso dropped between them. He drew out his cock and centered it where it was so eager to be, and as he wedged in the tip, she froze.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “We’re enjoying carnal pleasure. I showed you some of it, and now, I’ll show you the rest.”

  “It doesn’t feel right.”

  “The first time can seem awkward, but just relax. We’ll get through it together.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish.”

  “It’s hard to explain,” he said. “It’s easier to demonstrate.”

  “Is this marital behavior?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what it is.”

  “We’re not married though, so how can we?”

  “We don’t have to be wed. It’s merely physical conduct.”

  “If we’re not husband and wife, it’s a sin.”

  “Preachers rail that it is, but I’m not a religious man.”

  “Well, I am a religious woman. You’d have to promise to marry me to convince me to participate, but you don’t want that.”

  He scowled, and before he could bite down the words, he heard himself asking, “Who says I wouldn’t want it?”

  “Are you claiming—if we proceed—you’ll marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying,” he insisted, but he absolutely was.

  Had he turned into a scoundrel? When had that occurred?

  It was just that he desired her so desperately, and he felt—if he didn’t finish it—he might injure himself. There could be no going back. He’d realized it the night he’d seen her bathing in his hot springs pool. She had to be his.

  “I wish I could consent,” she said, “but I’m certain I shouldn’t. I can’t decide what’s best.”

  “This is my castle, and I make all the decisions here.”

  “Pompous ass,” she mumbled.

  “Yes, I am, and I’m deciding about this too because—if I left it up to you—you’d dither until dawn and never reach the correct conclusion.”

  “It’s wrong, John. It’s so wrong, and you would never wed me afterward.”

  He grinned. “Toss the dice, Winnie. Don’t be a coward. Wouldn’t you like me to be yours forever?”

  “I might like that, but you’d never give it to me.”

  “Perhaps it’s your lucky day.”

  “I’m never lucky anymore,” she solemnly retorted. “I used to be, but Fate hasn’t shined a light on me in years.”

  “Poor, poor, Winnie Watson,” he murmured. “So beautiful and so alone and so unhappy. I can make you happy. I know how.”

  “You would say that,” she scoffed.

  “I’m saying it because it’s true. You trust me, don’t you?”

  “No.”

  He laughed. “When have I ever let you down?”

  “How about every minute since I arrived?”

  “It hasn’t been all bad, has it?”

  She studied him, then admitted, “No. None of it has been bad.”

  He was weary of chatting, and he wasn’t about to beg for what he intended to have. She didn’t grasp what he was requesting, but she’d be elated in the end. He was sure of it.

  He began yet again, and he kept on and on, distracting her, arousing her. He touched her between her legs, and with a few flicks of his thumb, he sent her soaring to ecstasy. As she cried out, he pushed with his hips, once, twice, and he was fully impaled.

  He was stunned by the enormity of what he’d perpetrated. Apparently, it had been his goal when he’d entered the room, and now, they could only stagger forward.

  She gaped up at him, her expression accusing, but fascinated too.

  “What just happened?” she asked.

  “We’ve mated, Winnie.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we’ve joined our bodies together, but don’t be upset. It’s a very normal event for a man and a woman.”

  “Am I still a virgin?”

  “No, not anymore.”

  “Ah…so that’s how it’s done.”

  “Yes, that’s how.”

  He gazed down at her, and he was so overcome by emotion that he couldn’t catalog all his feelings. It was a peculiar combination of bewilderment, delight, and astonishment.

  “I’ve always heard that it hurts,” she said, “but it doesn’t.”

  “Sometimes it can—the first time anyway—but not after that.”

  “Are we finished?”

  “No. There’s more to it.”

  “Show me how it ends.”

  “You’re mine now,” he said.

  “You’re mine too,” she replied. “Have you thought about that?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He smiled, and she smiled too. His was merry and confident, but hers was hesitant and a tad anxious, as if she couldn’t imagine why she’d participated. But it was too late to fuss or regret.

  He couldn’t tolerate any further delay, and he had to get moving. He should have been a gentleman about it, should have explained and eased her into her new situation, but at the moment, conversation was beyond him.

  He flexed with his hips, pushing in all the way, then withdrawing. Her eyes widened with surprise.

  “Put your arms around me,” he said.

  “Like this?”

  “Yes, just like that. Hold me tight.”

  “I will hold you tight. I will never let you go.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  He flexed in earnest, swiftly adopting the primordial rhythm. He’d planned a long, slow copulation where he pleased himself and her, but he was too titillated.

  Much before he was prepared, his seed surged into his phallus, and he simply couldn’t prevent himself from emptying it against her womb. It was a reckless act, and he should have stopped himself, but he hadn’t considered stopping for a single second.

  A wild, feral impulse swept over him, and he nearly shook a fist and crowed in triumph.

  I’ve ensnared you now! You can never escape!

  He supposed in the morning, he’d panic, but just then, when he was deep inside her, he wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

  He continued until the last drop was spent, then he collapsed onto her. He lay very still, as she caressed her soft hands up and down his back. Eventually, he pulled away, their bodies separating. He rolled onto his side, and she rolled too, so they were nose to nose.

  “What did you think of that, Miss Watson?”

  “I thought it was quite…quite…” She cut off and chuckled. “I guess I don’t have words to describe how it was.”

  “Well, I thought it was spectacular.”

  “Am I with child now?” she asked. “Could I be?”

  “No. It never happens from just one time. A couple has to do it over and over.”

  He had no idea why he’d told the stupendous falsehood—or why she’d believed it. She nodded as if he was correct, but honestly! He’d been in the army for fourteen years. He couldn’t count how often his fellow soldiers had gone home on furlough and returned with a leg shackle.

  Babies had a way of creeping up on a man when he least expected them to arrive, but he was happy to pretend that the laws of nature didn’t apply to him. He had decreed that no child would be created—and no child would be.

  “What next?” she asked after a bit.

  “We’ll have a nap, then we’ll awaken and try it again. If you’re not too sore?”

  She grinned. “I’m not sore.”

  “Let’s never fight in the future. I hate it.”

  “So do I, and I was horrid to you. Am I forgiven?”

  “Of cour
se, and how about me? I was a beast that day. Am I forgiven too?”

  She snorted. “Since you’ve crawled into my bed, and I am completely ruined, the answer is obvious.”

  “Not to me. I’m a man, so I’m very obtuse.”

  “Are you glad we proceeded?” she inquired. “You won’t think badly of me, will you? You won’t think I’m loose?”

  “I am so glad, and I would never think you were loose.”

  “And everything will be all right, won’t it?”

  “Everything will be grand.”

  He doubted it very much, but he offered the comment anyway.

  Their affair would bring significant ramifications. He was already struggling to deduce how frequently they could sneak away and how long they’d be able to conceal their amour. Probably not long, he suspected.

  For the moment, he didn’t care. He would ride his wave of lust until it crashed to a halt. Then he’d take stock and figure out how to go forward.

  Her breathing slowed, and she fell asleep. He nestled with her, absorbing every detail: how she smelled, how warm her skin was, how perfectly her torso fit with his own.

  He stayed until the candle sputtered out. Once the room was dark, he started to doze off too, so he eased away from her and stood. A hint of moonlight shone in the window, illuminating her so she looked ethereal, like a fairy that had come to tempt him.

  He grabbed the covers and tucked her in, and she was so worn down by their mischief that she didn’t stir.

  Goodnight, dear Winnie, he mouthed to her.

  He yearned to lean down and steal a final kiss, but if she roused, he’d never force himself to depart.

  He found his shirt and tugged it on, even as he realized he’d deflowered her without bothering to remove his boots. He’d been that frantic to have her.

  I’m not sorry…

  The words rang in his head, and he nodded with satisfaction.

  He wasn’t sorry, and no matter what chaos their liaison ultimately delivered, he’d never be sorry.

  He spun and tiptoed out—while he had the fortitude to go.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Winnie strolled down the street in Dunworthy town, headed for the corner where she’d seen Holden Cartwright talking to Freddie Townsend. After a week of fretting and stewing, she’d finally decided she had to speak to him.