Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Annie Burrows

  ‘Well?’ he asked, tightening the grip on her arm.

  ‘No... That’s... It’s...’ Her words came to a halt. What she wanted to say eluded her, but she knew exactly what she wanted to do, what she wanted him to do to her. Her breath coming in more rapid gasps, she leant towards him, wanting him to do more than just grasp her arm, wanting him to take her in his arms, to hold her close against him, to feel her body against his chest, that strong, muscular chest that she had seen just two nights ago. She wanted him to kiss her, to caress her. But that was so wrong she shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

  She looked up at his implacable face, her eyes focusing on his full lips, lips she wished would kiss her, would whisper sweet, seductive words in her ear. Gasping in another quick breath, she ran her tongue along her own lips and placed her hand gently on her stomach, which was fluttering in a most peculiar manner. Was it nerves, excitement, a little of both? She didn’t know.

  ‘Have you entered my home, alone, because you do not think a blind man is capable of ruining your reputation?’

  ‘No, no, I...’ Iris wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest any thoughts she tried to form were drowned out by its insistent pounding.

  She drew in a few strangled breaths and tried to focus her mind. ‘That’s not what I thought,’ she finally murmured.

  When she had set off for his house she hadn’t been thinking about her reputation. Now she wasn’t sure what she had been thinking, or if indeed she had actually been thinking at all. She just knew she had wanted to see him again.

  And now that she was here, thinking was the last thing she wanted to do. How could she possibly be expected to think of anything when her body was consumed by that strange feeling, the one that always took her over when she was in his company? But now it was even stronger, even more demanding, pulsating wildly and uncontrollably within her.

  Still not thinking, she closed her eyes, her skin aching for his touch, her fingers itching to touch him. She arched her back and moved even closer towards him. He had said he could ruin her reputation and right now that was exactly what she wanted—for Theo Crighton to take her in his arms, thoroughly ruin her reputation, and to hell with the consequences.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  She was still here. Theo had expected her to turn tail and run, never to visit his home again. But she was still here. No woman should allow a man to stand this close to her, to take hold of her arm the way he had done. If she was so damn adamant about correct etiquette, she should at the very least be objecting. She still did not see him as a threat. Still did not see him as a real man. Damn her. How dared she treat him like this, like a non-threatening child?

  She was no different from Estelle. No different from everyone else at last night’s dinner party who had treated him with such condescension. If she didn’t leave soon, she was going to discover just how wrong she was to think he was less of a man just because he could not see.

  He was so close he could almost feel her up against him, could feel the warmth of her body and smell her scent of orange blossom and rose water.

  It was an enticing scent. He inhaled deeply, letting it fill his senses. It was also the scent that had woken him from his last nightmare. He had awoken to find her holding him, like a child who needed comfort. She had even told him that she was doing exactly what her mother had done when she was a little girl and had a bad dream. That was how she saw him, as a child who needed to be coddled.

  He exhaled loudly to rid himself of the effect her scent was having on him and to focus on his anger.

  No matter what she thought of him, he was still a man, damn it. A man who had once been admired. A man who had been at the very pinnacle of Society. He was not a cripple to be pitied by everyone, including Lady Iris Springfeld. And if she didn’t leave soon she would discover that he was definitely not a helpless child, and coddling was the last thing he was after.

  ‘Do you make a habit of this?’ he asked, pleased that his voice contained a significant degree of menace.

  ‘Habit of what?’ He could hear the trepidation in her voice. Good. She was starting to realise what a mistake it was to arrive at a man’s house unaccompanied.

  ‘Of reprimanding gentlemen.’

  ‘Um, no, but...’ He could hear her breath, coming in short, rapid gasps. She was frightened of him. He loosened his grip on her arm, suddenly ashamed of what he was doing. He did not treat women like this. This was reprehensible.

  ‘No, I don’t usually, but I made an exception in your case.’ Her words cut through him. He was an exception. He was different from other men. He was a child to be both comforted and chastised according to her whim. He increased the pressure on her arm. She needed to know the folly of what she was doing.

  ‘So why am I singled out for this attention?’ Go on, say it, damn you. Because I’m a cripple.

  ‘Well, because...’ She drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I made a mistake.’

  He reached out and took hold of her chin, tilting up her head. ‘Yes, you did. And you made another mistake today.’

  She swallowed. ‘I did?’ Her voice was quiet, breathy.

  ‘As I said, a well-bred woman does not visit a man’s home on her own.’ He waited for her to make another joke, to let him know that she saw him as a joke. ‘Not unless she cares nothing for her reputation.’

  She still said nothing, but he could hear her breath, loud and fast. But she still hadn’t left, still hadn’t put up any sort of protest. She still did not see him as a man, as a threat to her reputation. Well, he was going to have to show her how wrong she was.

  ‘Young ladies do not enter a man’s house alone, unless this is what they are after.’ His hand slid quickly around her waist and pulled her towards him. ‘Any man would be forgiven for thinking this is what you came here for.’

  He heard a quick gasp just before his lips found hers. He had given her ample warning but she had refused to take him seriously. Now she would discover how wrong she was to not see him as a real man. And he would not kiss her gently. He would teach her that she had no right to toy with him, to pity him, to coddle him.

  His tongue parted her lips and he entered her mouth, tasting, probing, plundering. His hand moved further round her slim waist as he pulled her closer, her soft breasts pressing against his chest, her thighs against his legs. If she had any doubt that he was a man, she would now feel it, hard and urgent, up against her.

  He continued to kiss her while waiting to feel her hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. Soon she would do what he expected—slap his face, and flee from his house.

  None of these reactions happened. Instead, her rigid body went soft, moulding against him, and she kissed him back.

  What was he to make of this? Did Lady Iris want his kisses? While his mind tried to analyse this surprising behaviour, his body just reacted to having her in his arms. His hand ran slowly down her spine, loving the feel of her curves, loving the way she moved sensually under his touch.

  Her lips parted wider, tempting him, enticing him. This was more than he could stand. She wanted his kisses and he wanted her. But this was not right. He should stop. He should, but he couldn’t.

  His hands moved lower down her body, cupping her lovely round buttocks and pulling her in hard against him, wanting her to relieve the pounding desire he had for her.

  Surely, now that she could feel how she was affecting him, feel his hard arousal pressing into her, she would finally take control and push him away. But she did not react with the expected horror to the hardness of his manhood, pushing urgently against her. Instead, she arched her back and rubbed herself against him, increasing his desire for her and making him wild with need.

  A low moan escaped his lips. He was now completely lost, unable to think, unable to reason, only able to act. His lips moved from her
lips to her neck, kissing and nuzzling, loving the touch, the taste of her silk-like skin.

  She tilted her head back and moaned quietly, driving him mad for her. He had to have her now. Grasping her blouse, he freed it from the skirt and slowly slid his hand up inside. Slowly, teasingly, his hand moved up over her corset, to the thin material of her undergarment. He could feel her heart pounding fiercely, her chest rising rapidly as she continued to gasp in quick breaths.

  He paused, waiting for her to object. Instead, her moans continued, getting faster and louder.

  His hand cupped the soft mound of her breast, still covered by the flimsy material. She gasped loudly. He stopped, pulled his hand away. Was she finally going to tell him to stop? Was she finally going to do what she should have done when he had first kissed her?

  But no, her hand took his and she placed it back on her breast as her gasping breath resumed, coming faster and faster.

  She had given him permission to do whatever he wanted to do, and every ounce of his being wanted to accept that invitation. He grabbed the thin fabric of her undergarment and roughly pulled it down, causing a button to pop off, but releasing her full breasts to his appreciative touch.

  He cupped the beautiful soft, silky mound, kneading it, loving the way it filled his hand. The nipple hardened under his touch as he rubbed his thumb over her, filling him with a sense of satisfaction.

  His lips found hers again, kissing her with such urgency it was almost desperation. And she kissed him back with equally unfettered passion. Her hands entwining themselves in his hair, holding him tightly against her, she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, then slowly entered his mouth, licking, tasting, exploring.

  As he continued to caress her tight nipples, she broke from his kisses and placed her head on his shoulder, her gasps becoming slow moans, getting louder with each caress. If he had had any doubts, they were now gone. This woman wanted him. She did not pity him. She wanted him as a woman wanted a man. She was ripe for the taking and there was nothing to stop him from taking her, right here, right now.

  He moved to her other breast, cupping it in his hand and stroking the nipple, harder and faster, making her writhe with pleasure.

  She was now as caught as he was, lost to reason, only capable of feeling. There was nothing to stop him now from lifting her up, placing her on the table, parting her legs and taking her. Her panting breath, her burning skin and the way her body was moving sensually against him told him that it was what she wanted as well. And what he wanted, what his body was demanding from him, was to bury himself deep within her, to fully satisfy his demanding need for her.

  He had wanted to teach her that he was a man and should be treated as such, not as a child. He had wanted her to see that she could not presume that she was safe to visit him, unaccompanied, simply because he was blind. And that was exactly what he was doing. Teaching her that he was a man.

  She was now his for the taking. He could now complete what he had threatened to do to her before he had taken her in his arms. He could ruin her.

  Ruin her.

  Those words cut through the fog in his head. What was he doing? He was about to ruin her. She did not deserve this. As if his hand were on fire, he quickly released her breast and took a step back. This was unconscionable. She was a sweet, lovely, innocent young woman and he was about to ruin her.

  ‘You should go,’ he said, his voice coming out in a husky rasp he hardly recognised. ‘Fasten your blouse and leave.’

  * * *

  Iris fought to get her breathing under control as she emerged from her dazed state. What had just happened? She looked up at the stern man standing in front of her, then down at her bunched-up blouse. It was obvious what had just happened. And if she couldn’t tell from her blouse, then her sensitised breasts, her pounding heart and that intense throbbing between her thighs made the answer abundantly clear. The real question she should be asking herself was, How had that happened? One moment she was trying to rebuke him for his behaviour, the next moment she was acting like some woman she didn’t know, a wanton woman who was allowing, indeed encouraging, a man to take liberties with her.

  What on earth had she been thinking? That question also answered itself. She had not been thinking. The moment he had touched her arm her mind seemed to cease to work and she had lost the ability to think.

  And then his touch had moved to a kiss. If she actually had been capable of thinking before she felt his lips on hers, his kiss would have certainly put an end to that particular skill. In fact, after what had just happened, she was unsure whether she’d be able to think in a rational manner ever again.

  She ran her tongue along her bottom lip and sighed. While she might have lost the ability to think, she certainly hadn’t lost the ability to feel. Her entire body had come alive under his touch, as if every nerve end from the top of her head to her smallest toe had been stimulated and aroused. She closed her eyes and sighed again. She had not known it was possible to feel that way, and she had loved every second of it. Had loved the intensity of the emotions that had coursed through her when he took her in his arms, had loved the passion his caresses had aroused deep within her, had loved the sense of abandonment, of giving herself over to him.

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him, desperate for him to hold her close once more, to push his hard chest up against her soft, yielding body, to touch and caress her.

  Iris sighed again and smiled. She had no regrets. How could she possibly have any regrets over what had happened? It had been wonderful. Her only regret was that he had stopped when he did, leaving her wanting more, so much more.

  He, on the other hand, did not appear to feel the same way, if one was to judge by the serious look on his face. But Iris knew that was a deception. He might be trying to look as if he was unaffected by what had just taken place, but she knew differently.

  He had been just as lost in the moment as she had. Well, almost as lost. He had managed to pull back, something she knew she would have been incapable of doing. Something he, unfortunately, had been capable of doing.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure who should reprimand whom on that little breach of etiquette,’ she said with a small laugh. ‘Or whether we’re equally guilty.’

  ‘I think you should leave, Lady Iris,’ he said, his voice back to its brusque manner, his lips drawing into a thin line.

  ‘No,’ she said, causing him to look even more affronted. ‘I think we should talk about what just happened.’

  He exhaled loudly. ‘Yes, you are right. I apologise. What I did was unforgivable. I should not have taken advantage of you.’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  ‘I did. I should never have kissed you, never have...’ He paused and tilted up his chin, as if unable to even discuss what had just happened between them. ‘For that I am profoundly sorry.’

  ‘But I kissed you as well.’

  He paused, his chin still lifted, his body rigid. ‘But I did more than just kiss you.’

  Iris smiled. ‘Mmm, yes, you did.’ She bit the edge of her thumbnail and smiled, pressing her arm against her still sensitive breast. ‘And I let you, wanted you to. You have nothing to rebuke yourself for.’ Except perhaps for stopping when you did.

  ‘You are an innocent young lady,’ he said, his voice starting to rise as if angry that she was not allowing him to completely abase himself and wallow in guilt like a conscience-stricken penitent.

  ‘Not quite as innocent as I was when I woke up this morning,’ she said, unable to resist the jest.

  ‘And for that, too, I apologise.’

  She rolled her eyes and sighed. He really was determined to take all the blame, wasn’t he?

  ‘Theo...’ She paused. ‘I suppose I can call you Theo now. After what happened I think we can probably drop the formality of using titles.’

  He nodded but his expression did not soften.


  ‘Theo, if I don’t blame you then there’s no reason why you should blame yourself.’

  She looked at him, imploring him to believe her. His face remained fixed and he gave no sign that he would accept that he was without guilt.

  ‘And anyway, no one knows what happened between us. I don’t intend to tell anyone, and I assume you won’t either.’

  ‘That goes without saying,’ he said, his voice offended.

  ‘Good. Well, no one knows, so my reputation has not been ruined. As long as no one finds out, no harm has been done.’

  He slowly shook his head. ‘You really are a unique, remarkable young woman,’ he said, his voice appearing to be full of awe.

  Iris shrugged. Nothing she had said seemed particularly remarkable to her. ‘And you’re rather remarkable yourself,’ she said with a smile, slowly looking him up and down.

  He merely replied with a humph, as if that was something else he would not accept. Iris wanted to list all the ways in which he was remarkable. He was brave, handsome, more honourable than she wished him to be, but the most remarkable thing about him was the way he made her feel when he touched her. Until he had kissed her, caressed her, she had not known it was possible to feel such intensity, such passion. Yes, it really was all rather remarkable.

  She looked down at his hands, those strong, slender hands with the tapering fingers, and wished he would touch her again. But she knew that was not going to happen. He was adamant that what he had done was wrong, and, judging from the way his body was still clenched so tightly, it was unlikely he would commit another wrong very soon.

  Damn him, she said to herself, sighing.

  At least her reputation was safe, although that felt like a very small consolation for what she had missed out on.

  ‘I suppose you’re right. I suppose I should go,’ she said, disappointment clearly showing in her voice.