He poured the liquid into a glass. It was amber colored like brandy. He rolled a little around on his tongue. It tasted like brandy, too, though it did have an unusual sweetness to it.
He swallowed and looked at the connecting door. James had come for Lizzie tonight. Bentley had assured him she’d been adamant in refusing to return to Alvord, but James could be damn persuasive. And, really, why would she stay? She was not happy. She was trapped in an empty marriage to a man who could not make her his wife in truth. It was a hellish situation.
But, if she left…. God! He took another swallow of cordial.
If she left, what would he do?
She’d been part of his life forever—the plaguey little sister of his friend, the young girl trying so hard to be brave while her brother was away fighting Napoleon, the beautiful woman who’d graced the ton’s ballrooms. She was sweet and bright and funny. How could he live without her?
How could he live with her? They could never go back to the way things had been. There would always be this empty bed between them.
What the bloody hell was he going to do?
Drink Lady Beatrice’s concoction and pray it worked.
He took another sip and closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of his chair. Did he hear a scratching on the connecting door? Ridiculous! He was letting his imagination run away with him.
He should talk to Lizzie. It was the least he could do. Explain that the problem was his. That there was nothing lacking in her.
He slumped lower in his chair, cradling his glass against his chest. She’d been so beautiful, so eager and passionate in her room that first night at Lendal Park. Any man would be lucky to have her. He would be lucky if he could have her.
He kept his eyes closed, reveling in his very explicit memories, and took another sip. Mmm. The cordial must be working. His skin—a particular section of his skin—had grown extremely sensitive. He felt the silk of his dressing gown brush against it.
He was also hallucinating. He’d swear his clothing had parted, exposing his shy little organ—which was rapidly becoming not so shy and not so little—to the cool air. And then something warm and soft touched him ever so lightly. Little glancing touches from his root to his tip.
He spread his legs. He was as hard as iron now and very hot. He kept his eyes firmly closed. He did not want to risk dispelling this sensual pleasure. This was better than any of his dreams.
The light dry touches turned into little wet licks. Heat pooled in his groin. He moaned.
“Am I hurting you?”
His eyes flew open. Lizzie knelt on the floor between his legs, her face as red as the fire.
Not a dream or hallucination.
He grew even harder. Amazing. He was suddenly less worried he would wilt than explode.
“No. No, you are not hurting me.”
“The swelling is not a bad thing?”
“Definitely not.”
She wrapped her hand around him. “Does this hurt?”
“No.” He spread his legs farther. To see her delicate fingers around his shaft—his very hard shaft—was a dream come true. Well, only part of his dream. His fickle little organ could still…
He felt it start to shrink and he quickly took another sip of cordial.
He would not worry about the past or the future. He would concentrate on the present moment.
Lizzie kissed the tip of his poor organ and it swelled with delight at the attention.
It was a very lovely, a very splendid moment.
“This is such an odd part of you, you know. When I first touched it, it was small and soft—and now look at it.”
He looked at it. It looked wonderful—long and thick and hard. Eminently capable of accomplishing its marital duty. He tossed off the rest of Lady Bea’s cordial.
“I believe it is time to adjourn to my bed.”
Lizzie stood up.
He dropped his glass on the floor.
“What in God’s name do you have on?” Robbie was staring at her body.
She flushed and crossed her arms over her chest.
No, she was going to be daring tonight. Hiding was not daring.
She forced herself to open her arms and turn in a slow circle. The red silk nightgown fluttered over her skin, caressing, teasing, making her crave a firmer touch. Robbie’s.
“Do you like it?”
“Like it? It is completely, totally scandalous.”
“Oh.” She dropped her arms. Perhaps the nightgown was too revealing. Well, there was no perhaps about it. The red bits of fabric were translucent. They accentuated rather than covered her nakedness. She flushed and brought her hands up—
Robbie was out of his chair and pulling them away before she could blink.
“It is shocking and scandalous and enticing and maddening. Just never wear it in another man’s sight.”
“Of course not. I would never…um…”
Robbie was looking at her. He had his hands on her shoulders, just as he’d had that first night at Lendal Park, and he was holding her away again, but this time his eyes were not focused on her face. Not at all. They were studying her throat, her breasts, her waist, her…um. Her nipples hardened into tight little pebbles and a certain part of her felt very hot. Damp.
Needy.
“Please, Robbie.”
“Hmm?”
He was studying a particular part of her very intently. She moved to break his concentration.
“What?” He looked slightly dazed.
Daring, she should be daring.
“It is quite all right to touch, you know.”
“Really?” One corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile.
“Yes.” The word was little more than a whisper.
He touched her then, carefully, almost reverently, his eyes watching everything he did. His face was so intent, so…hungry.
His hands slid under the scraps of silk to cradle her breasts. His fingers stroked her, circled around her nipples, rubbed them. She drew in a sharp breath. Her temperature soared; she felt a wash of moisture flood the empty place between her thighs. Her knees threatened to buckle.
He ran his hands down her sides, spanning her waist and going lower. His thumbs skimmed over the thatch of hair there. She flexed her hips, inviting him to explore that part of her anatomy. It was crying for his touch.
Instead, his hands slid back up to her breasts, to her aching nipples. His thumbs flicked over them and heat spiraled low in her stomach.
This was far better than what she had imagined when she’d stood naked before her mirror at Lendal Park. Only one detail needed improvement—a major detail. Robbie had far too much clothing on. She could not see his lovely male organ—it was hiding in the voluminous folds of his dressing gown.
She reached for his belt and tugged.
Ah. She loved his body. She moved closer, and this time he let her. She pushed aside his dressing gown, slid her arms around his waist, buried her face in his chest, and hugged him tightly.
His arms came around her to hug her back.
“I love you, Robbie,” she whispered. “I love you whether you can give me children or not.”
He tilted her face up. The passion in his eyes had dimmed to a dark sadness. She felt the ridge against her belly shrink and soften slightly.
“Lizzie, I love you, too. More than I can say. But I don’t know…”
A muscle jumped in his cheek. She reached up to stroke it.
“Just tell me, Robbie. Please?”
His hold on her loosened. He was withdrawing. No! She would not let him. She tightened her arms.
“Tell me. I love you. Whatever it is, it will not change my love.” Her eyes were wet. She pressed her face into his chest. She felt him lower his head.
“I cannot…. I do not know if I can…”
He shuddered. She stroked his back and waited.
“I have not been able to…be with a woman for years.”
His male organ was no l
onger pressing against her belly.
“It does not matter, Robbie.”
“It does matter.” He pushed her away, turning to face the fire.
She wrapped her arms around him from behind. “It does not matter.”
“It does.” His voice was shaky, as if he might be suppressing tears. “It’s a damnable coil. I’m so sorry you are chained to me.”
“Well, I am not sorry.” She rubbed her cheek on his back. What could she do for him? She hated the sadness in his voice.
Her fingers wandered below his waist and found his poor little organ. It leapt at her touch.
She smiled. She knew what she needed to do. She stroked him and he drew in a sharp breath.
“I did…I have this cordial…” He was panting slightly. “I don’t know if it will work…”
“Then we will just have to try and see, won’t we?”
He took her fingers away from where they’d been playing and turned to face her. “But what if it doesn’t work? You need—”
“Do not tell me what I need. I know what I need—I need you.” She reached for his dressing gown. “I need you naked in bed this instant.”
It was time to be very daring indeed.
“Lizzie—”
“Do not say another word, sir. I have decided that I am going to seduce you. I expect you to be a gentleman and allow me to have my wicked way with you.”
His useless organ began to feel not quite so useless.
“Well, if you put it that way…”
“I do indeed. You do not have to lift a finger.” She looked down and something else lifted slightly. The minx grinned at him. “I am going to take charge of everything.”
It couldn’t hurt to play along.
“Your wish is my command.”
“Excellent.” She tugged his dressing gown off him and dropped it on the floor. Cool air touched his heated skin.
“Now that I have you suitably naked, you need to help me off with this silly nightgown.”
Did Lizzie’s voice waver slightly? “There is nothing silly about it. It is vastly attractive.”
“Perhaps, but it is very much in the way at the moment.”
“Hardly very much…there’s not enough there for that.”
“True, but anything is too much.” She took a deep breath, causing her breasts to rise delightfully. “I want my skin against yours—nothing in between.” She smiled up at him. “Don’t you think that is a good plan?”
“Yes.” Definitely. All of him thought so.
He began to hope this would work.
“Are you thinking, Robbie?”
“What?”
“You are not to be thinking or planning or most importantly worrying. You are just to do as you are told, understand? Now, please remove my nightgown.”
“My pleasure.” He took the hem. The silk of the cloth was nothing compared to the silk of Lizzie’s skin. He flattened his palms on her thighs, taking his time. Over her hips, her waist. She raised her arms. Her breasts rose invitingly. He stopped to drop a kiss on one nipple.
“Ack!”
“Hmm?” He pushed the gown up higher so he could see her face. “You didn’t like that?”
She pulled her arms free. “I loved it. I would like much more of the same.”
She took his hand and pulled him toward his bed. His shy little organ was going along quite enthusiastically. In fact, it was leading the way.
She pushed him to sit on the edge of the mattress, then spread his knees and stood between them. She cupped his jaw and put her mouth on his. He waited to see what she would do.
She licked the seam of his lips.
She pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Open your mouth, sir.”
He grinned and did so. She resumed her explorations.
Her tongue was small and agile. Her hands stroked his cheeks, his hair, his shoulders, his back, and finally the part of him that was most enjoying this game.
“Are you thinking about anything, Robbie?”
“Huh?” Her fingers glided up and down his length. They felt beyond wonderful. He blinked at her. She had a very self-satisfied smirk on her face.
“Have I animated your animal instincts? Do I have you mindless with lust?”
He laughed. “I am most assuredly moving in that direction.”
“Splendid.” She paused. Her smile wavered. “Um, what should I do now?”
Was his little wanton running out of ideas?
“Perhaps I should do something. I’d like to taste your lovely breasts. They are dangling here so invitingly.”
“They are too little to dangle.”
“Really?” He drew his finger down the slope of one perfect globe. “If you say so. May I taste one—or both—anyway?”
She flushed.
“Very well. Taste away.”
He cupped her breasts and put his mouth to one nipple. He circled it with his tongue, licked, and sucked.
Lizzie moaned. Her hands were now gripping his shoulders. He ran one hand down her stomach and dipped his finger in the opening between her thighs. It was delightfully wet.
“Oh.” She pushed away from him. She was very flushed. Her bosom heaved in the most entrancing way. “Lie down, sir. I believe it is time to proceed to the next step in my plan of seduction.”
“Yes, my lady.”
He stretched out in the middle of his bed. She knelt beside him and just looked at him, all of him. Her gaze was torture—he needed her touch. He needed to touch her. He reached for her, but she scooted back.
“Not yet.” She was studying his groin. Damn. He had no problem with stiffness at the moment. He was so stiff that he ached.
“Soon?” he croaked.
She kissed his belly and moved lower.
“Soon,” she said, and put her mouth over him.
Oh, God. He spread his legs to give her more freedom to roam. Her delicate touch was driving him mad. Her hand cupped his sack while her mouth…her tongue…. He was going to explode.
She sucked on him and his hips lifted off the bed.
She laughed. “Amazing.” She dipped her head again.
No. Enough. He was not going to spill his seed outside her beautiful body, and if he didn’t stop her immediately that was a definite possibility.
He flipped her onto her back.
“My turn.”
He was so much stronger than she. Not that she wanted to struggle with him. She had enjoyed playing the game—more than enjoyed. But she was ready for him to take the lead now. She had reached the limits of her imagination.
His hands moved over her.
Um. She could feel her imagination expanding.
Oh.
Oh my.
He was kissing her breasts. And licking them. She arched up to encourage him to concentrate on her nipples. He laughed, sending little puffs of air across the sensitive peaks.
“Hmm. You are giving me ideas, Lizzie.”
“Good!”
He laughed again and flicked her with his tongue.
“Ah!”
He repeated the action.
She twisted on the bed. The cool air made her nipples tighten unbearably.
He bent his head once more. This time she caught him and held him where she wanted him.
“Such a demanding wife you are.”
“Yes. I—oh!”
He sucked on her and she thought she would die. She ran her hands through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back.
Now another part of her was demanding attention. Fortunately, his hands were moving in the correct direction, though not swiftly enough. She spread her legs, arched her hips.
He pushed down gently on her belly, dropping her back to the bed. He moved up to kiss her.
“So impatient, Lizzie.”
She could barely speak. Her breath came in short gasps.
“Yes. I’m done with being patient.” She wiggled under his hand. “Hurry up!”
“And what exactly do you
want?”
“I don’t know!” She wanted to wail—perhaps she did wail. She arched her back, but his hand low on her belly kept her hips down. She was aching there. The space between her legs was wet and empty. She needed him now.
“Touch me.”
“Still giving orders. I think I will be in charge for a while.” He kissed her nose. “I am touching you.”
She could weep with frustration. “No, you are not. Not in the correct location. Stop playing with me. I need you—desperately—to touch me there.”
“Hmm? I wonder where ‘there’ is.” He spread his fingers so they just grazed the hair below her belly. “Here, perhaps?”
“Yes! No. Lower.”
“Lower? Here?” His finger was just a shade too high.
She tried to flex her hips, to bring the aching part up to his touch. She could not move.
“Lower. Please. Lower.”
“Lower?” He kissed her slowly and thoroughly. He grinned down at her. “Here?”
Finally. The tip of his finger found her. She squeaked and he kissed her again.
His finger felt wonderful—but it wasn’t moving. It needed to move. She wiggled her hips and he laughed.
“You know, I have a splendid idea.”
“What?”
He lifted himself off her before she could grab him. His wonderful finger left, too.
“Robbie, that is not—”
She emitted a very unladylike scream. He had replaced his finger with his mouth. His tongue. His very mobile, very clever, wonderful tongue.
The force of her pleasure caused her to sit bolt upright.
He had died and gone to heaven. He had Lizzie’s taste in his mouth; he was surrounded by her smell; he had just brought her to screaming ecstasy.
She flopped back on the bed. Her knees relaxed, opening even further. He studied her beautiful center, giving it one last, long lick.
She shuddered.
He moved back over her body, positioning himself to enter her.
He hesitated. Could he? Would he—
“Are you thinking again?”
Lizzie’s voice was still weak from pleasure. He smiled. God, he loved her.
Suddenly he loved her even more. She reached down and took him in her hands, gently cupping his sack, stroking him, rubbing him over her wetness.
Sally MacKenzie Bundle Page 29
