Suzanna Medeiros

by Lady Hathaway's Indecent Proposal

  In reply, she stood. His innate manners had him beginning to stand, but she placed her hands on his shoulders to stop him. He leaned back in the chair and waited to see what she would do next. He wasn’t disappointed.

  She lowered herself onto his lap, leaned into him, and raised her hands to frame his face. He could feel the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against his chest and, in anticipation, his own breath quickened to match hers. She placed her mouth against his, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to crush her against him and take what she so freely offered. Instead, he willed himself to remain still, letting her take the lead. She moved her mouth against his, but it soon became clear she’d acted out of bravado and not experience.

  When she drew back again, frustration had etched little lines above her nose. Despite the fact she had given him little more than a chaste kiss, she was not unaffected. Her gray eyes had darkened and her breathing was ragged. Aside from confirming the type of marital relations she’d shared with her husband, her kiss had given him another piece of vital information. He needed more, and he needed it now.

  When he stood, taking her with him, she gave a surprised gasp and wrapped her arms around his neck. He moved the two steps to the settee and lowered the two of them onto it. She remained on his lap, but now his arms were around her. Her eyes widened when she felt his erection pressing against her hip.

  “Right, no kissing,” he said, surprised to find his voice hoarse with his effort at controlling himself. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

  He claimed her mouth slowly at first. Touching his lips to hers and brushing them against hers in slow, tantalizing movements aimed at gaining her trust. It was not too dissimilar from the way she had kissed him, but she obviously took comfort from the fact he was now participating. She relaxed against him and the heat of her body, pressed against his, fueled his desire.

  He’d been all too innocent and eager to prove himself worthy of her when he’d courted her as a youth and so hadn’t kissed her the way he’d longed to. But now, with the confidence that came from experience, he intended to make up for his former restraint. When she sighed, he took advantage of the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tracing his tongue first against her lips and then entering her mouth. She stiffened, but only for a moment before matching his movement.

  The notion entered his mind that perhaps she’d been acting the innocent earlier, but he dismissed the notion as inconsequential. Did it really matter? He leaned back against the cushions and she followed, draping her body over his. He groaned as the kiss became more urgent, their tongues and mouths dueling for dominance. Blind to everything but the lust sweeping through him, he placed one hand on her backside and ground his erection against her hip. He lifted his other hand to cup her breast. She moaned low, arching into his touch as he covered her full breast and teased the hardened nipple with his thumb. She moved now, writhing against him. Without conscious thought, he shifted, reversing their positions so that she lay under him on the settee.

  When he had her exactly where he wanted, he started to raise her skirts so he could settle between her legs. It took him a few moments to realize that her hands had moved from clinging to his shoulders to trying to push him away.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her. Her lips were swollen from their heated kiss and a flush stained her cheeks and upper chest a rosy pink. She was clearly aroused. Behind the heat in her eyes, however, he detected a hint of uncertainty. Damn. How had he lost control so quickly? He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before pushing himself away from her. He watched in silence as she struggled with her skirts before rising to sit on the other end of the settee. One hand moved to touch her bottom lip and he knew with certainty that neither her husband, nor any other man, had ever kissed her that way.

  “Are you…” Flustered, she stopped before starting again. “Does this mean you agree to my request?”

  Mere agreement was laughable when compared to the feelings warring within him. Desire. Lust. An almost desperate need to throw her back down and finish what they’d started. Oh yes, he would most definitely give her what she wanted. And at the same time he’d finally get Miranda Hathaway out of his system and be done with her. And if a child resulted… Well, he wouldn’t be the first man with a bastard. And in his case he knew his son would be well provided for as the next Viscount Hathaway. And a daughter would also ensure Miranda had claims to the next Viscount’s generosity.

  Schooling his features to mask his anticipation, he rose and moved to the door. With one hand on the knob he turned back to face her.

  “I’ll send word of where and when.”

  At her nod he opened the door and, anxious to be away from Miranda and his newly aroused need for her, showed himself out.

  Chapter Two

  Andrew’s note came the following morning. It contained simply an address and a time later that evening and was signed with an S for his title—Sanderson. That formality told her everything. He wanted her to know that despite the heated kiss they had shared the previous morning, there was to be no real intimacy between them.

  That kiss had haunted her the rest of the day and had led to a night of passionate dreams. It had also served to make her feel like a fraud when acquaintances and family friends called on her to offer their condolences and see how she was faring. While she appreciated their show of support, the very last thing she needed was to be forced to act the part of the grieving widow when all she could think about was the fact she would soon be physically intimate with Andrew.

  The hours crawled by and when evening finally arrived, a swarm of butterflies had taken up permanent residence low in her belly. But despite her nerves, she could hardly wait for the appointed hour to arrive. Her brief meeting with Andrew had told her what she had always suspected—there was more to the intimate relations between a man and a woman than what she had experienced in her marriage. She knew men took great pleasure in that physical act, and if the way she’d felt when Andrew had touched her was any indication, she suspected there could also be great pleasure for a woman.

  When it was time to prepare for their encounter, she took great care to dress to her best advantage, choosing an outfit that would give her the confidence she’d need. Given the illicit nature of the errand she was on, she couldn’t bring herself to wear one of her mourning gowns. She chose, instead, a satin gown of deep red that had a simple row of buttons up the back that she could reach herself with a little effort.

  Her maid had been surprised when Miranda dismissed her after the woman had laced her corset, but it was vital that the servants believe she was going out to have a quiet dinner at the home of a family friend. If gossip started to spread about her activities, she would not be able to carry out her supposed ruse and Andrew would have no reason to see her. If that happened, she would never find another reason to entice him to make love with her.

  She left her hair in the simple knot her maid had created that morning and concealed her outfit with a black cloak before stepping out into the street. Her butler had been aghast when she’d told him she planned to walk, alone, to her destination, but it was only a few minutes away and he’d had no choice but to acquiesce to her insistence that she be alone. She’d felt a stab of guilt knowing he’d only backed down because he hadn’t wanted to upset her further during what was supposed to be a very painful time for her.

  To ensure no one would discover her true destination, she hired her first carriage a few blocks from her home and changed hansoms twice during her journey. When the third cab finally stopped at the address Andrew had provided, she was relieved to find herself at a small house on the outskirts of London.

  She paid the driver and stepped down from the carriage. Despite her nerves, she thought she’d managed to push aside the last of her misgivings. But standing before the front door of the nondescript house, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was making a mistake.

  Her husband had been ill for some time, but his illness hadn’t b
een a fatal one. After the shock of Robert’s unexpected death the week before had worn off, she’d been taken aback by how quickly the idea for her current plan had come to her. She’d tried to ignore it at first, but the need to see Andrew again, to recapture the emotions she’d once experienced when they had courted, wouldn’t leave her.

  Their courtship hadn’t ended well and it had been her fault. He’d been so young and earnest then, only a year older than her own eighteen years. They’d been in love. She might have been young and inexperienced, but she’d known he would never leave her and she’d felt the same devotion to him. Her confidence that they could have a future together had withered under her parents’ displeasure. Andrew had been next in line to be the Earl of Sanderson, but theirs was not a wealthy estate and everyone had expected it would be many years before he came into his modest inheritance. Her parents had, therefore, taken it upon themselves to promise her hand in marriage to the much older Viscount Hathaway.

  She couldn’t blame them for all that followed. They’d acted in what they considered to be her best interests and she’d relented. She knew in Andrew’s eyes it did not speak well to her character that she’d so easily acquiesced to her parents’ desires.

  And it hadn’t been a horrible marriage. She’d been content enough over the years despite the fact theirs had not been a marriage based on love. Robert had treated her like a pet he doted upon, and she’d done her best not to dwell on what might have been. Andrew had left for Europe just before her marriage had taken place, and she’d been grateful she didn’t need to worry about running into him in Town. And when she’d learned of his return a few years later, she’d fled, retiring to spend the majority of her time at Hathaway’s estate in Northampton.

  Over the years she’d managed to accept her lot in life, but she’d never forgotten him. When her solicitor had asked her if it was possible she was with child, she’d known she wasn’t. Robert had been eager to conceive a child with her and had visited her regularly over the years, but had stopped a few short months ago when he fell ill.

  That question, though, had sparked a ridiculous idea that wouldn’t leave her. Especially when she realized she now had an excuse to approach Andrew and attempt to fill the emptiness that had grown inside her since she’d let her parents convince her to give him up.

  She had no illusions that he’d been pining for her all these years, just as she was also under no illusion about her likelihood of falling with child from their time together. She hadn’t been able to conceive a child in the twelve years of her marriage, and since Robert already had an illegitimate daughter when they married, she knew the fault lay with her. Her courses had never come regularly, not like they did with other women, and as the years passed she had no other option than to accept the fact she was barren.

  But now she had an opportunity—an opportunity she would not so easily throw away as she’d done when she was a foolish girl of eighteen. She would finally learn what it was like to be physically intimate with the man she loved.

  She tested the door and, finding it unlocked, let herself in. Two oil lamps lit the hallway, but other than that the house seemed empty. In the unnerving quiet, her heart sounded loud to her own ears. She took an inventory of her surroundings and saw right away the rooms on the main floor were dark, but light beckoned from the second level. Unnerved by the silence and the gloom surrounding her, she made her way upstairs, the light serving as a beacon.

  The door to the room at the top of the stairs was ajar, and when she pushed it open, she wasn’t surprised to find herself in a bedroom. Most of the furniture was simple but for one notable exception—the bed. It dominated the small space, appearing a good deal larger than any she’d ever seen. The curtains at the windows were closed, the light from the fireplace and an oil lamp on the sole bedside table making the room seem cozy and welcoming. Miranda moved to the fire blazing in the hearth and held out her hands to warm them. It was still early enough in the spring that evenings were much cooler than during the day.

  Questions rose, unbidden, about just how many other women Andrew had brought here over the years, but she pushed the unwanted thoughts from her mind. She had no right to begrudge him the companionship of other women. Not after she had denied him her own.

  She spun around at the sound of a floorboard creaking behind her and found herself face-to-face with Andrew. He stood several feet away, his features in shadow, which somehow made the effect of his presence more intimate since it highlighted what they were both here to do.

  She had a moment of doubt, wondering if the now mature Earl of Sanderson could live up to her memories of the young Andrew Osborne she’d met and fallen in love with twelve years before. He was different, harder, but the years had been good to him. The attractive, charming young man had blossomed into a man of account.

  He wore his hair short now. She remembered how, when it was longer, the brown had been threaded through with blond highlights that had given him a tousled, almost boyish appearance. In its current close-cropped style, his hair looked much darker than its medium brown. His face had also lost its youthful appearance, the slight roundness gone. It was more angled than she remembered, his square jaw and cheekbones more prominent.

  His eyes, however, were the same. A medium green unlike any she had ever seen before or since. She used to adore gazing into them when they danced at those many balls that one season they’d had together. But now they mocked her. Gone was the warmth she’d once found in their depths.

  Her heart was racing… whether from fear or anticipation, she wasn’t sure. Probably a little of both. She did her best to keep her breathing even, however. Having made such an outrageous proposition as asking him to help her conceive a child, she could hardly act the part of a shy virgin. At any rate, she was far from being that.

  It seemed Andrew planned to just stand there, probably hoping to make her nervous, so she broke the silence. “I find it hard to believe we are both here, about to do this thing.”

  He raised a brow. “You cannot possibly be more surprised than I.”

  He bridged the last few steps that separated them, stopping only when their bodies were almost touching. She knew then he wanted to intimidate her. Gain the upper hand. She wouldn’t allow her nervousness to show, but she did feel at a disadvantage when she had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

  For one horrible moment she feared he expected her to act first. Relief flooded through her, therefore, when he took her hands in his much larger ones and brought them up, around his neck. He was so much taller than her that in this position her body was flush against his.

  Everything else faded away as they stood like that, she pressed against him, their eyes locked and the air of anticipation swirling around them. Gone were the memories of the many unsatisfactory couplings she’d shared with her husband. The panic she’d undergone when he’d died and she realized she was now truly alone in the world, for she would never again go back to her family and allow them to control her life. Even the desperation that had led her to proposition the Earl of Sanderson so she could finally feel, if only for a little while, what it was like to be happy again.

  For she was happy just being here with him. She hadn’t expected that.

  “I’m not going to ask if you’re still sure you want to do this,” he said.

  She had no second thoughts, but his statement surprised her. The Andrew she’d known had always been considerate to a fault.

  She spoke around a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to know if you’ve changed your mind. You made your offer and I accepted. There’s no turning back now.”

  He’d lowered his head and his last words were spoken against her lips. When she opened her mouth to reply—she couldn’t say with what—he took it as an invitation to kiss her. This time there was no gradual buildup. The kiss was hot and hungry, and she dove into it without hesitation.

  Yes, this was what she wanted. Andrew hol
ding her, kissing her as though he wanted to devour her. His hands moved to her backside and pressed her more firmly against his impressive erection. She realized she was making mewling sounds low in her throat. Perhaps she should have been embarrassed in case he believed her wanton, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. With this man only, she felt wanton. Deliciously so.

  He must have taken her physical response as the answer to the question he hadn’t wanted to ask and walked her backward until her legs bumped against the edge of that enormous bed. He moved away from her then, but only a fraction so he could lift her into his arms and deposit her in the center. He joined her there, covering her with the heat of his body, and she shivered with need. This was nothing like the rushed, emotionless couplings she’d shared with her husband.

  She expected him to raise her skirts and bury himself inside her, so was confused when he levered himself away to kneel on the bed beside her.

  “Is something the matter?” She was shocked at how hoarse her voice sounded to her own ears.

  “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  She didn’t protest when he pulled her into a kneeling position before him and removed the cloak she’d only just realized she was still wearing. He made a strangled sound when he saw the red gown she wore with its very low bodice. She’d been uncertain whether to be so brazen when dressing, but now she was glad she’d chosen the provocative dress.

  “I promise to take time to appreciate you in that dress later, but for now, it has to go.”

  He shifted until he was behind her and started to work his way down the row of buttons. Her mind blanked. Surely he didn’t mean to actually disrobe her? Never, in all her years of marriage, had Hathaway removed her clothing. Then again, she’d always worn her nightdress when he came to her, so perhaps Andrew would stop when she was down to her chemise.