Sally MacKenzie Bundle

by Sally MacKenzie

  She heard a very satisfactory gasp. Alex’s hands moved to her sides, slid up toward her breasts.

  “Not yet, sir.” Though she was surprised to find her body was definitely interested in feeling Alex’s touch.

  Was that a growl she heard? She laughed up at him and pushed herself free. “You may remove your breeches next, Mr. Wilton.”

  He put his hands on his hips. Was he annoyed? Embarrassed? Perhaps this was not such a good game after all.

  But she had to do something. She couldn’t just climb into bed, stretch herself out, and lie quietly for him to mount her as she had for Oxbury all those years. She didn’t want that. Surely there was another way.

  “What about your nightgown, Kate? I suggest you remove that.”

  “I will…later.” What would she do if he wouldn’t play along? Should she give up now? Apparently men were all the same. Perhaps if she were an experienced courtesan, she could seduce Alex, make him so mad with lust he would do anything she said. Not that she wanted to order him around, but—

  His hands were at his fall. He was going to play along.

  Her entire body flushed, she was certain of it. Heat flooded her face, her breasts, her belly, even the place between her legs that usually winced with the thought of the procreative act. She swallowed. She was even salivating in anticipation of seeing all of Alex’s body. Did he know she was so consumed with lust?

  She glanced up at his face. His eyes were hot, intense, slightly hooded. A slow smile curved his lips.

  He knew.

  “I’m having trouble with my buttons, Kate.” His voice was huskier than normal, low and deep.

  Good heavens, she was actually throbbing.

  “Oh.” The word came out in a shaky breath.

  “Yes. Can you help me?”

  “H-help you?”

  “Please?” He thrust his hips slightly toward her. There was no hiding that his male organ had swollen to a remarkable size.

  She had never considered the issue, but in this case at least, the larger the man, the larger the…

  “Do you suppose you might undo my buttons for me? I’m sure your smaller fingers are more nimble than mine, and, as you can see”—there was heat and a note of humor in his voice—“I am rather in a state.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” She was the one who’d started this game. She couldn’t complain when he came up with his own ideas—she’d said he could suggest things. And the thought of undressing him, while it wouldn’t have occurred to her on her own, was enticing. “Very well, I will assist you.”

  Alex inhaled as Kate stepped close to him. She smelled wonderful. The scent of lavender was there as always, but now there was the added scent of heat and need. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to strip off her gown and trace that sweet smell of musk and woman to its source.

  Her fingers fumbled with one of his buttons, brushing over the hard, aching length of him. “Ah.” He closed his eyes briefly. Heaven—or rather, the beginnings of heaven. True paradise would happen shortly, in the bed behind him.

  She looked up. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “N-no.” He could barely get the word out. Hell, he could barely think. He put his hands on her shoulders. He had to steady himself somehow or he would collapse. Thankfully, Kate did not object. She was too busy with her fingers, her wonderful, teasing fingers. Finally she got the last button free.

  Ah. He fell into her warm, smooth, delicate hands. Oh, God. He had never felt anything so exquisite.

  Until she began to stroke him. Light, tentative touches all along his length.

  He was panting as if he had just run a race.

  “Are you all right, Alex?”

  “No.” Was that croaking in his voice? “Yes.”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No. God, no.”

  “May I remove your breeches for you?”

  “Yes.” He was about to beg her to do so—or to rip them off himself. “Please.”

  Her hands slid around to push the cloth over his hips and down his legs. Her face, her mouth, was level with…dodging, in fact…

  “May I make a suggestion?” God, he was still croaking like a frog—a lust-maddened frog.

  She paused. “What do you suggest?”

  “It would be very, very pleasant if you…kissed me, er, there.”

  Kate sat back on her heels. “Kiss you?”

  “Ah.” He could feel himself reddening, though how he could feel embarrassment when his emotions were consumed with lust was a bit of a conundrum. Was all of him red? He was not about to look. “Kiss. Touch me with your lips…there.” There could be little question as to where “there” was. “Your lips and perhaps your…tongue.”

  “What an odd suggestion.” Kate stared at his cock—he’d swear it grew another inch, though that was clearly impossible. “And you would like that?”

  “V-very much.”

  “Hmm. All right.” She leaned forward, and her lips brushed over him. “Like this?”

  “Yes.” He had never felt anything so wonderful—until her tongue rasped over his tip seconds later. And then her lips fastened onto him. She was a very quick learner.

  He was going to pass out. At a minimum, he was going to fall down if he didn’t sit down—or better, lie down—immediately. He tugged gently on Kate’s hair.

  She did not respond. Apparently the woman could be very single-minded when she wished to be. He tugged a little harder.

  “Kate, sweetheart, love.” He allowed a note of desperation to creep into his voice. Hell, he was desperate.

  She finally stopped her activities and looked up.

  “What is it?” She grinned, the minx. “I am having a splendid time—I do not believe I care to be interrupted.”

  “And I hate to have to interrupt you, my love, but I do have my physical limitations.”

  “You do?” She kissed him, and he’d swear the limits of that particular organ expanded again. “Where?”

  He choked back a slightly hysterical laugh. “Kate, you are bringing me to my knees—literally. I am a forty-five-year-old man—though I don’t know I would fare much better with this torture were I twenty-two again. I suggest—I very urgently suggest—that we adjourn to that lovely bed over there.”

  Alex did sound desperate, and Kate found she was ready for the next step. She stood, sliding her hands up Alex’s sides. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. His skin was so soft, but his body was so hard. “I think that is a splendid idea.”

  “I am so glad you agree.” He laid his hands on her back and murmured in her ear. “And I have another idea.”

  “You do?” She wriggled against him, and smiled when she heard his sharply indrawn breath. He was very well-behaved though—too well-behaved. She’d like his hands to move. She’d especially like them to move downward, past her waist. “What is your idea?”

  “I suggest you would be more comfortable without this annoying nightgown. It is far too threadbare to provide any warmth.” He brushed his lips over her earlobe. “I think you are generating plenty of heat on your own, but if you feel the least bit cold, I am more than willing to act as your blanket.”

  “Hmm. You may be correct.” She tilted her head back and smiled at him. “Would you care to remove it?”

  “Sweetheart, I thought you would never ask.”

  Alex kissed her once, quick and hard, and then let her go. She felt bereft, but she knew it was only momentary. She watched him strip off his shoes, breeches, and stockings; then he knelt and put his hands on her ankles. She waited, but nothing happened.

  “I thought you were removing my nightgown.”

  “I am.” He hands moved leisurely up her ankles to her calves. “Slowly.”

  “Oh.” Slowly was torture—wonderful torture. She grabbed his shoulders. His muscles flexed under her fingers. His hands moved to her knees. “Perhaps you should move more quickly.”

  “I don’t think so. After all, I am onl
y taking my lead from you. You were very slow removing my breeches.”

  “I’m sure I was mis-GUID-ed.” His hands had slid up over her thighs to her hips and his tongue—“Ah!”—his tongue was…oh, dear God. She grabbed his head. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think I’m doing? See if you can describe it.” He ran his tongue over a very sensitive spot by the place where…

  She pulled on his hair. She now completely understood his need to assume a prone position. “The bed. You wanted to go to bed.”

  “Yes. In a moment.”

  “Now.”

  “No.” He leaned back and grinned up at her. “I strongly suggest that you allow me to take the lead in this game for a while. I’m certain you will enjoy it.”

  She was certain she would, too, but she wasn’t about to say that. “Well, aren’t you cocky?”

  He laughed. “Indeed. Very cocky. Painfully so, love, thanks to your tender ministrations.”

  Kate felt her face flush. “I have no idea what you are alluding to.”

  “No? I shall be delighted to show you in just a very little while.” He slid her nightgown higher, over her stomach, over her breasts. She raised her arms so he could pull it off entirely, but he stopped, holding her arms up, the nightgown over her face.

  “Come on, Alex. What are you—eek!”

  He was kissing her breasts, laving her nipples with his tongue, and then sucking each one into his warm, wet mouth.

  Her knees gave out. If he had not been holding her, she would have fallen.

  He pulled the blasted nightgown fully off and lifted her into his arms.

  “I believe you wished to retire to bed, my lady?”

  “Yes, you idiot.” Her body was on fire. The place between her legs was wet and throbbing and hot. She had never felt this way before. “Now. Immediately. I need you.”

  “You do? An old woman such as yourself?”

  “Yes!” She half screamed the word. He was not moving quickly enough.

  He laughed. “I find this old man agrees with you wholeheartedly.”

  He finally reached the bed and put her down in the center of it. She didn’t want to be apart from him, even for a second. She raised her arms, and he came to her, bearing her down onto the mattress. His weight felt good—so good. There was no need for further play. There was no time. She was mad for him. Desperate for him. She opened her legs, and he slid into her all in one motion. She started to come apart immediately. She grabbed his hips, moaning, twisting, pressing closer. He moved once, and she shattered completely.

  In the midst of her storm, she felt him pulse in her, hot and deep.

  For a few moments, there was only panting and extreme lassitude. Kate could not have raised her head if her life depended on it. Every inch of her body felt satiated. Sleep beckoned. Then Alex laughed breathlessly.

  “Ah, Kate.”

  She smiled lazily and cracked open one eye. He kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I’m too heavy for you.”

  He was, but she wasn’t going to say so. She loved having his body on hers. Breathing was much overrated. She hadn’t the air to talk, so she made a low, almost purring sound. He laughed again and lifted himself off her.

  She frowned. “I’m cold.” She was. Her body, damp from their loving, was chilled by his absence.

  “We can’t have that, can we?” He pulled up the covers and gathered her into his arms. “Better?”

  She closed her eyes again. “Mmm. Much better.”

  “You are not being very articulate.”

  What was there to talk about? She was exactly where she most wanted to be—naked, in bed, her head on Alex’s shoulder, his arms around her, his hand stroking her back. She was in heaven. She kept her eyes closed, turned her head, and kissed his arm.

  “We should talk, Kate.”

  His voice had a very serious tone to it. Unpleasantly serious.

  She didn’t want to talk. Talking meant thinking about the past or the future. She did not want to think. She wanted to ignore everything but the present. This perfect moment. She burrowed closer into his warmth.

  “Sleep,” she murmured.

  “I can’t sleep, Kate. What if I sleep the night away? What if your maid—or Grace—discovers me here in the morning? Or what if one of the servants finds my coat and waistcoat by the tree? I have to go, sweetheart.”

  “No. Stay.”

  “I can’t. We have to be discreet, Kate, unless…”

  She frowned, opening her eyes. Obviously the fairy tale was over. “Unless what?”

  “Unless you marry me.”

  The past and future came crashing in on her. They were far heavier than Alex had been. She sat, pulling a corner of the sheet up to cover herself. She should put on her nightgown so Marie wasn’t scandalized in the morning. “You know I can’t marry you.”

  Alex sat up, too, but he didn’t bother with the sheet. It pooled below his waist, leaving his shoulders and arms, his lovely chest and belly completely exposed. She reached out to touch him, but he captured her hand in his a little roughly.

  His face bore a distinctly mulish expression—eyebrows lowered, lips tight, jaw tense. What was the matter with him? Weren’t men supposed to come happily to any widow’s chamber, delighted to have some uncomplicated, unencumbered bed play? But Alex was…he certainly looked angry.

  Well, she was angry, too. She had never given him any promises, nor had she asked any of him. She’d always known this was to be a one night affair, a secret—a bit of magic—stolen from the very real, completely unavoidable everyday events of their lives.

  “I know no such thing.” Lud! He was almost growling. “You are of age and a widow. I am not married. What is the impediment?”

  Surely he saw the obvious? “Alex, it’s Grace’s first Season—most likely her only Season. My brother has found her a neighbor to wed—the man’s estate marches with Standen—who hates London. When—if—she marries him, she’ll be stuck in the country until she dies.” She leaned forward. He still had not relinquished her hand. “Don’t you see? I want her to have the chance I didn’t. I want her to meet other men—”

  “You met other men, Kate. You met me.”

  “Yes, I know, but…” It was too hard to explain. Or maybe it was too simple. Maybe she just hoped, if given the opportunity, Grace would have more courage than she had had. Grace was older after all—twenty-five to her seventeen. Perhaps Grace would follow her heart instead of Standen’s will.

  “Splendid.” Alex’s hand on her fingers tightened to the point of pain. “So Lady Grace will be able to make some poor idiot like my nephew fall in love with her and then break his heart when she marries another, just like you did.”

  “No.” She felt as if he had slapped her. Worse. As if he had squeezed her heart as hard as he was squeezing her fingers. “I didn’t.” She sucked in her breath as his grip tightened even more. “Ouch! Alex, you’re hurting me.”

  He almost snarled, but he loosened his hold, moving to put her hand flat against his chest. She could feel his heart hammering against her palm.

  “You think you didn’t break my heart? God, Kate.”

  She tried to laugh. The mood definitely needed lightening. “Of course I didn’t. It is beating quite vigorously now.”

  It was as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “You have no idea, no bloody idea, what I felt when Standen told me of your engagement. I wanted to die.” He looked away. His nostrils flared, his mouth formed a thin, white line.

  She dropped her eyes to stare at his hand where it pressed hers to his chest. His heart still raced under her fingers.

  Her own heart lurched in sickening thuds.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Kate? Why did you lead me on, let me hope, let me embarrass myself in front of your brother? How he must have been laughing in his sleeve.”

  Kate found her voice. “I didn’t lead you on.”

  He skewered her with his eyes. “Damn it, Kate, the blo
ody announcement of your engagement to Oxbury was in the paper that very morning. I saw it when I got back from my interview with your brother. And then you married so quickly. The gossips dined out on that for weeks, everyone giggling over how Oxbury’s lusty passions must have necessitated such a hasty wedding.”

  “No.” How horrible. Thankfully, she hadn’t known what tales the tabbies had been chasing. “They weren’t actually saying such things, were they?”

  “They were.”

  Kate looked so pale, so shocked, Alex felt a twinge of compassion for her. Only a twinge. She could never be suffering what he had suffered.

  He’d been so full of hope when he’d gone to visit her brother that day. He’d known he’d have rough ground to get over—he wasn’t a fool—but he’d truly thought love would conquer all.

  What romantic twaddle!

  And, idiot that he was, he hadn’t believed Standen when he’d said Kate was engaged. All the way back to Dawson House, he’d planned how he’d ride to the country and spirit her away to Gretna. He’d marry her over the anvil, officiated by the blacksmith, just as Luke had married Harriet, only he’d be smarter. He’d take her to the Continent until she’d given him a babe, maybe two, so Standen would have to recognize—or at least tolerate—their union.

  And then he’d seen the announcement in The Morning Post.

  Kate was tugging on his hand. She’d let go of the sheet, exposing her beautiful breasts.

  He didn’t feel even the slightest stirrings of lust.

  “Alex, I wasn’t engaged when I went into Alvord’s garden with you.”

  He snorted. Did she expect him to believe that Banbury tale? He’d been a fool once—once was enough.

  Or had he already been a fool again?

  “Why did you come to London now, Kate? To find a wealthy husband—or to be a merry widow?”

  “I came to chaperone Grace, of course.” Kate hesitated. Her face went still, as if she was coming to some decision—and then she smiled. God, she was so damn seductive, he felt her siren call even through his pain and anger.

  “But I find I like being a merry widow as well.” She ran her hand down his chest. “I liked what we just did very, very much. Shall we do it again?”

  He stared at her. How could she say that so lightly? All that had just happened between them—it must have been only physical for her, only bodies joining, his body as good as any other man’s. He was a fool.