by Cheryl Holt
“You won’t ever regret this, will you?” he said.
“Regret what?”
“That you were here with me like this? That I was able to make you mine?”
“No, I could never regret it. And you’re mine now too, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
He nibbled a path to her breasts and he played with them, licking and sucking, while down below he was fumbling with his trousers. He pulled them down around his haunches and settled himself between her thighs.
He slid a finger into her womanly sheath, then added another. He stroked them in and out in a tantalizing rhythm, and her hips moved to match that rhythm.
Then, something else was there. Something bigger than his fingers. She’d been so distracted by his hand that she hadn’t noticed what it was.
“What are you doing?” she inquired.
“I’m preparing to join my body to yours.”
“I told you I didn’t know what that means.”
“We’re built differently in our private parts.”
“We are?” She was such a naïve ninny that she’d had no idea!
“It’s awkward the first time.”
“Will it get better?”
“Yes, you’ll grow accustomed very quickly. Now relax for me.”
“I can’t. It feels too odd.”
She wasn’t convinced she’d made the correct decision. Matters had escalated so rapidly, and she was perplexed over what she’d instigated. It was a little too late to complain. Wasn’t it?
“It will be over in a few minutes.” He studied her and scowled. “Are you scared?”
“No. I’m simply nervous about what I don’t understand.”
“It’s very easy to accomplish. Every wife in the world does it on a regular basis.”
The word wife soothed her anxiety, for she recalled that there was a purpose to their actions. When they were through, she’d have him for a husband.
She forced a smile, and he smiled in return, his gaze so warm and affectionate her heart raced with elation. He had to be falling in love with her. She couldn’t imagine what other explanation there could be for such evident fondness.
“Put your arms around me,” he murmured.
“Like this?”
“Yes, just like that. Hold me tight.”
“I will.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
“I never could be—when I’m with you.”
He started kissing her, caressing her breasts. At the same time, he was flexing with his hips, pushing himself into her, each plunge bringing him closer to a goal she couldn’t fathom but definitely craved.
She raised up and met his thrusts with cautious thrusts of her own, and suddenly he was inside her. They froze, the strangeness of the event rocking her. It didn’t hurt precisely. His prior ministrations had left her damp and relaxed, but it felt so peculiar.
Tears welled into her eyes, but they weren’t tears of sadness or of joy. She was suffering a different emotion entirely, one she couldn’t describe, but she was overwhelmed in a manner she hadn’t known to be possible.
He smiled down at her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. Is that it? Are we finished?”
“There’s a bit more. Don’t let go of me.”
“I never will.”
He commenced his flexing again, and the initial discomfort began to wane. Learning the ropes, she moved with him, and just as she started to relish the bizarre coupling, he gave a particularly deep thrust and groaned as if he was in pain.
He hovered for several seconds, then collapsed onto her, his large torso pressing her down. He should have felt heavy, but he didn’t. He felt warm and welcome, and she stroked her palms up and down his back, savoring the quiet intimacy, the extraordinary experience she would never share with another person.
Eventually he rolled off her and snuggled onto his side. She rolled too, so she was facing him. They were nose to nose, grinning, happy with what they’d wrought, as if they were naughty children behaving as they shouldn’t.
“Did you survive it?” he asked.
She chuckled. “All in one piece.”
“It gets better with practice.”
“Does that mean we can try it again someday?”
“We can do it all night if you’re not too sore.”
Her inner areas were actually quite sore, but she would never admit it. “I’m not sore.”
“You arouse me beyond my limit, you scamp. I couldn’t slow down or hold back.”
“I’m not a virgin anymore, am I?”
“No, and you won’t ever be again. So no regrets, remember?”
She wished he’d quit speaking of regrets, for it seemed as if perhaps he had a few misgivings, and she couldn’t bear for him to have any doubts.
“What now?” she inquired.
“Now…we can take a nap or I can order up some food or a bath.”
“You’d bother the servants?”
“For you? Anything.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, and it’s very late. We’re not waking the servants.”
Besides, she’d die of embarrassment if any of the staff realized what she’d allowed. She was certain she was already the source of much kitchen speculation, and she refused to provide more fodder for their cannons.
She gave a very unladylike yawn, and he laughed.
“I didn’t know sexual conduct could be so draining,” she said.
“It’s the best way to fall asleep.”
He turned her away from him and spooned himself to her back, his body cradling hers. She could have expired from gladness.
“Everything will work out, won’t it?” she asked.
“Everything will be perfect.”
“We’ll marry.”
Did he hesitate? “Whatever you want, Maggie. Just rest.”
“Afterward, we have to talk about my sisters. I don’t care about Gaylord, but I hope—if I’m your wife—you can be kind to them.”
“Sure,” he mumbled, and he yawned too.
They were silent, floating along in a languor that was riveting and splendid.
A thrilling notion occurred to her. “Could I be…with child from this?”
“No,” he scoffed. “Well, you could be, but it rarely happens from just one time.”
“I can’t be a woman who has a baby too early. I won’t stir gossip.”
“I’d kill anyone who gossiped about you.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “You would not.”
“I might not kill them, but I’d administer a good thrashing.”
She sighed, contentment sweeping through her. With him as her husband, there would never be a dull moment, and she’d like to have pondered how she’d suddenly decided she was eager to be a bride, but she was too exhausted.
She elbowed him again. “You can’t doze off. The servants would find you in here in the morning.”
“They won’t, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care.”
“I would care.”
“I’ll nap a bit, then I’ll go. I don’t want to leave yet.”
“I don’t want you to either.”
There were a dozen questions she was desperate to ask him—when they’d marry, where they’d marry, where they’d live—but she drifted off without learning any of the details.
When she woke, the sun was so high in the sky she was afraid it might be approaching the noon hour. Could it be? Had she slept that late? She never had, not since she’d been a pampered girl with a rich father and stable family.
She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms over her head, the move making her private parts ache, reminding her of what they done in the dark of night.
Glancing over, she was positive he wasn’t there, but she was lonely and wishing she hadn’t been so adamant about his having to depart. She’d love to see his beautiful smile first thing, and she grinned, recognizing that—as his wife—she’d see that smile
every morning for the rest of her life.
She dragged herself out of bed, excited to get downstairs and be with him again. How would they interact? Would he tease her for loafing? She had no idea, but she was so happy!
As she spun to walk into her dressing room, she noticed a note had been placed on the nightstand.
She frowned, for some reason being flooded by the worst sense of dread. With trembling hand, she flicked the seal.
Ramsey came for me in the night. Trouble in London. Had to leave. Sorry.
He went on to explain that she should stay in the country, that he’d return as soon as he was able. He’d signed it with his full name, Michael Scott, as if she might not remember who he was.
Rudely, like the snob she apparently was, she mused that he could read and write after all, that he had excellent penmanship and spelled his words correctly. She’d wondered if he’d been educated, and evidently he had been.
She read the message over and over, as if searching for hidden clues, but there weren’t any. How could he flit off to London without a goodbye? Had the prior night meant nothing to him? She’d been completely changed. How could he be so indifferent?
Feeling angry and hurt, she sank down on the bed.
He’d charmed her until she’d let down her guard. He’d seduced her until she couldn’t resist. He’d deflowered her. He’d promised marriage. Then…he’d left without a goodbye.
What man behaved that way? After what they’d shared, what man would just pick up and go?
She crumpled the note into a ball, tossed it on the floor, and staggered to the dressing room to find her clothes.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Don’t move a muscle.”
“Why not?”
“I want to look at you.”
Rebecca grinned up at Ramsey.
She was in the kitchen at the rescue mission. It was late and quiet, and she had the place to herself. A single candle burned over on one of the tables.
There was a bin behind the stove that heated water, and she’d made it a habit to treat herself by taking a bath in Maggie’s bathing tub. Rebecca had mentioned it to Ramsey, hoping to draw him over to the mission with wicked intent, and apparently her ploy had succeeded.
She was naked and sitting in the tub, but it was too small to cover what ought to be covered, so he could see numerous pertinent spots. Yet he was over in the doorway and hadn’t moved any closer.
She was beginning to suspect the thick oaf was afraid of her. Or perhaps he was afraid of Michael Scott.
Mr. Scott had commanded that Ramsey stay away from Rebecca, and clearly the warning was vexing Ramsey. Rebecca had to lure him over to her way of thinking.
“I’d given up on you visiting me,” she said.
“I’ve been busy.”
“With what?”
“With Michael’s business.”
“Are you his faithful dog?”
He shrugged off the insult. “You could say that.”
“You practically begged me to come to town.”
“I never beg women,” he scoffed.
“All right then, you asked me, but now that I’m here, you’ve hardly spent any time with me.”
“We’re not all rich and idle like you. Some of us have to work to earn our keep.”
“I could entertain myself, but you ordered me not to go outside.”
“I meant it too. If you got yourself in a jam, I’d have to murder the idiot who harmed you.”
“Would you really kill somebody for me?”
“Yes.”
“How about Gaylord? If I asked, would you kill him?”
“I’d enjoy it too much.”
He pushed away from the door and approached so he was next to the tub. The water lapped at her waist, but her breasts and arms were on full display. She leaned toward him, eager to drive him wild with lust.
She’d been in London for five days, but there’d been no progress. He rarely stopped by, and when he bothered, he’d quickly leave. She was growing alarmed that he’d changed his mind and was wishing he hadn’t brought her to the city.
She was an accomplished flirt who’d nearly compromised herself with several different men. She’d been that desperate to escape Gaylord and Cliffside, and with her dowry squandered, seduction and ruination had been her only option.
Yet the potential swains had turned out to be cowards who’d backed out before things went too far, so she hadn’t managed to stumble into marriage that way.
She’d been so sure of Ramsey Scott, sure he wouldn’t be able to resist her, and sure that—after she was despoiled—he’d feel compelled to tender an offer of support and who could guess what else. But he remained aloof and disinterested.
Nudity and a steamy bath had seemed the best choice. Had she finally ensnared him? From the look in his eye, she was supposing she might have.
With him so close, she noticed his knuckles were red and swollen, and there was a bruise on his cheek.
“Have you been fighting?” she asked.
“Not fighting. Teaching a lesson to a stupid fool.”
“Did he learn it?”
He smirked. “Definitely.”
“I like that you’re tough.”
“Little lady, you have no idea.” He nodded, indicating her naked torso. “Stand up.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s time for us to finish what we started at Cliffside.”
“You’re always saying that, but you’re too afraid of Michael Scott to follow through.”
“He gets to tell me some things, but on other things he gets to mind his own business. Stand up.”
She rose slowly, inch by inch, flaunting herself as she unfolded from the tub. Water sluiced down her body, lapping at her knees.
It was the bravest act she’d ever committed, allowing him to assess her. She stretched and preened, pretending strange men constantly ogled her. In reality she was terrified, but she refused to cower. No doubt he consorted with all sorts of loose women. They would know how to entice him, and she wanted him to believe she possessed the same wicked aplomb.
“Will I do?” she saucily inquired.
“You’re not bad. Turn around. Let me see your ass.”
She spun, being careful not to slip and tamping down a squeal when he grabbed the curvaceous globes of her bottom and gave them a squeeze.
“I like a shapely ass,” he said, “and you’re too skinny. I figured it wouldn’t be much to look at, but it’s fine. You’re probably worth the trouble you’ll cause me.”
She snorted. “I’ll be worth every speck of trouble I cause.”
There was a towel on a nearby stool, and he held it for her.
“Climb out.”
“And then what?”
“You get out, and I’ll show you.”
“Tough talk, Ramsey.”
“Climb out,” he said again.
She clutched his arm to steady herself and stepped to the floor. He draped the towel over her shoulders and dried her, swiping it down her back, then her front.
As he reached her thighs, he knelt down so he was eye to eye with her private parts. Stunning her, he sniffed the intimate spot, then ran his thumb through the curly hairs. His touch was so electric, she felt that he’d scalded her.
“Real pretty,” he said. “You ever think of shaving it?”
“What?” she gasped.
“Shave it. Lots of doxies do. I like it when it’s shaved clean.”
It dawned on her that she might have bitten off more man than she could chew.
“Isn’t that a tad…perverted?”
“Not to me,” he claimed.
He flung the towel away and gestured to the large table where Maggie’s volunteers kneaded bread in the mornings.
“Get yourself over there.”
“Why?”
“I’m about to give you what you’ve been dying to receive.”
“On a table?”
“Yes, but I promise you�
�ll like it.”
She walked over hesitantly, and even though the room was warm from the earlier cooking and her hot bath, she shivered. She wasn’t cold though. It was from excitement and a flood of anxiety.
Clearly her wish was about to be granted, but she was no longer certain she wanted it. However, it was too late to complain.
He walked over too, until they were toe to toe, until the nap of his clothes rubbed against her nipples. They tightened and began to throb.
“Are you still a virgin?” he abruptly asked.
“More or less.”
“More or less? What kind of answer is that? In my experience, a woman either is or isn’t. It’s cut and dried. There’s no in between. Which is it with you?”
She’d had a few fellows touch her where they shouldn’t, but she didn’t know if that qualified as an official deflowering. She didn’t think so, so she corrected herself.
“I’m still a virgin.”
“We’ll see, I guess. I’ll try not to ram myself in too hard.”
He gripped her thighs and lifted her onto the table so her buttocks were balanced on the edge. Without warning, without wooing, he stuck two fingers inside her and stroked them in and out. She moaned with delight but with dismay too, and struggled to squirm away, but he wouldn’t let her escape.
“Are we going to…?”
“Yup.”
“Can’t you at least kiss me first?”
“Never saw much point in it.”
“Give it another shot. Just for me?”
He studied her then grinned, reminding her that she was always knocked off her pedestal by that grin. He was very handsome, but in a rugged, manly way that ignited her feminine sensibilities.
He leaned in so she thought he’d kiss her after all, but at the last second he dipped down and kissed one of her breasts instead.
He was very rough, very forceful, allowing no chance for her to acclimate, but again she didn’t suppose she should complain. This was the conclusion she’d sought.
Gradually he eased her down, and once she was lying flat, he left her bosom and nuzzled a trail down her stomach. He widened her nether lips and substituted his tongue for his fingers. The feeling he produced was so shocking and so unexpected that her body was jolted into a powerful wave of pleasure.
She’d previously suffered the wild agitation, usually at night when she’d have an erotic dream. She’d awaken drenched with sweat, her heart pounding, so she knew it could happen. But she hadn’t understood that it could happen with a man being present. She hadn’t understood a man could make it happen.
