"Blake, what is it? Are you feeling faint again?"
He thumped his head with the heel of his hand, trying to clear it. "A bit dizzy is all."
"Here, have some hot sweet tea. It's supposed to be good for shocks and scares."
She prepared the cup and pressed it into his hands, and then tested his forehead with the back of her wrist. "A bit feverish still, but nothing a couple of days of rest won't cure."
"Thank you, Doctor," he said with a smile.
Her mouth dropped open. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"You're very sweet. Nothing to be ashamed of. Now, where's my medical bag?"
"Here in the corner." She brought it to him at once.
A tap at the door heralded the arrival of her bath. "You can go off and see the others now, and come back for another rest." She looked at him shyly for a moment, and pointed. "We dried out the flannel strips we used to bind my ribs, but after my bath, would you mind very much examining me? Perhaps you have some cream or something for the pain?"
"Yes, of course." He took out his small green bottle and gave her a teaspoon full of the brown liquid. "I'll be back in half an hour."
She nodded. "Thank you."
When he'd gone, she tried not to panic. But he was going to have to see at least part of her bare, for he could not examine her ribs without seeing the top half of her at least. She would don a petticoat to cover her lower half and put a handkerchief over her breasts. That ought to suffice. She could of course ask the apothecary, but nice though he was, she didn't want anyone to see her bare except--
No, that was silly. Blake was a doctor helping her, that was all. He would go his way, she hers, and never again would they meet. So really there was no harm-
Stop that! she told herself.
But she could not stop thinking of the wonderful sensations she had experienced just being by his side tucked into his lean hard body while he slept. His arousal when he had awakened. She had been able to feel it against her leg, his hand on her knee. It had been indescribably exciting.
But that way lay madness. She was a virgin, and a woman all alone until such time as she caught up with her step-brother Peter or, failing that, had to go to her new guardian.
Again she had visions of some cadaverous old man with an equally shrivelled up old wife. She shuddered as she got into the tub. For all she knew, these could be her last few days of freedom. One more kiss or cuddle with Blake surely wouldn't damn her forever, now would it?
He certainly seemed nice enough, and somehow reassuringly familiar, comfortable to be with. She felt none of the embarrassment or tongue-tied awkwardness she did at balls and other social occasions. She had been younger then, of course, her period of mourning for one and then the other of her parents having halted her social rounds for some time.
If she was being absolutely truthful, she had to admit that she didn't really miss it. There was so much to do on the estate that she had often begrudged the time to get dressed finely and primp in front of the mirror.
As she washed her hair in the tub, she had to admit that she was lucky. Her hair was wavy enough with just the right amount of body to look well in any style, and her complexion was so clear she had no need for cosmetics. She wondered how many women would be offended to discover that she could get dressed and for a ball and look spectacular, as she had been told, in less than ten minutes.
She shrugged her slender shoulders. Now was not the time to worry about that. Not when she needed to see her Peter, make sure he was well, that he was not trying to protect her from any shocking news he might have to impart. It was so unlike him to not consult with her on a matter of such great import such as leaving her with a guardian.
Arabella finished scrubbing herself with the fine lavender soap she had brought with her, and gave a final rinse to her hair. She ducked under the water and then stood up in the tub. She began to dry herself off with a warm fluffy towel. She donned a petticoat and her wrapper, and wound a towel around her hair.
She sat hugging the fire until Blake returned with his medical bag. He placed it upon the bedside table.
Quailing inwardly, she removed the towel from her head and rose from the seat.
"I'll give you a couple of moments to adjust yourself modestly," he said, hoping the strain he felt being so near to her was not betrayed by his voice.
She sat down on the bed and lay on her back, opened her wrapper and laid the handkerchief down over her breasts.
"All right. Ready."
He tried to keep his hands impersonal upon her, but as he stroked down one side with his hands and she winced, he gentled them to an almost lover-like caress. "I'm sorry."
"I know."
He tested her other side. She winced as his hand came parallel with her breast. "It's going to be sore binding you up there. I think it will just have to be cream and you resting for a few days. No lifting or carrying and no shovelling snow."
She smiled at the reminder of what they had endured together. "I promise."
He took out the jar of cream and gathered the flannel strips from in front of the fire. He sighed. "I'm sorry to have to embarrass you further, but you're going to need to sit up for me and remove the lace hankie."
"It's all right. You're my doctor. A good one. I trust you."
He shook his head and sighed again. "I'm also a man. And you're a gorgeous woman. I'm not so sure I trust myself," he confessed.
She sat up then and removed the handkerchief, her nipples peaking at his candid words. "Put the cream on and wrap the rib. It'll be all right."
He took a handful and smoothed it over her bruised body. He carefully laid the strips flat, smoothing them down as he worked. He tried not to look at her rosy nipples, her firm ripe breasts.
He felt his breathing growing increasingly ragged. He tried to think of the names of all the bones in the body starting with the top as he worked, but her rosy nipples were so tempting, so near… All he had to do was bend his head-
"There, all done."
"Cream on the other side," she reminded him softly, her eyes glowing.
He lasted for about ten seconds. When his hand brushed the side of her breast, she swivelled at the waist, so that his palm covered it. They both gasped.
She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his. His lips parted, and before she knew what was happening he had inserted his tongue between her velvety soft lips, and was trying to suck her tongue into his mouth. She stiffened in surprise for a brief moment, then relaxed and gave in to the seductive sensation.
The torrid kiss soon had him wanting more. He slid one hand over to her opposite breast while his left hand stroked down her side to grasp the drawstring of her petticoat and tug.
Her fingers began to work loose the cravat at his neck, his stock. Soon he was clad only in his shirt and breeches, she in nothing but the strips of flannel he had wound around her just under her ample breasts. He moved from the edge of the bed to plant one knee between her spread thighs, and began to kiss down her elegant throat to each breast in turn.
One hand held him poised over her arching body, while the other began to stroke downwards over both breasts, between them, and down to her navel.
Finally his huge fingers nestled in her soft curls. She opened to him like a flower then. Her lips parted further, so that he bestowed upon her a ravishingly deep kiss. He could feel the moisture coating his fingers, urging him to slide into her slick softness. He had never lost control so before. Had never reveled in a woman's body in the way he was worshipping Belle's.
But then, he had known from the moment he laid eyes upon her that she was no ordinary woman. As soon as he had touched her bare flesh, it was as though he had fallen under some spell.
He teased her to wetness, loving the glide of his fingers deep within her and the small groans she was making, her hips pushing upwards to seek the ultimate joining with the magnificent man who made her feel as though she had stumbled across a little piece of heaven right here on ea
rth.
Arabella stroked down his shoulders, clutching him fiercely to her as though she could pull him right up inside her and never let him go.
The heat flooded through her, making every nerve ending go on fire. She wanted to give him the same gift. She now stroked down his abdomen with a light but purposeful touch.
She knew by rights she ought to be afraid. Well, by rights she ought not to even be here alone in the bed with a man she hardly knew.
But somehow when Dr. Sanderson kissed her he seemed to give her all the answers she needed, even before she had asked the questions.
She was panting savagely now as his fingers continued to tease her. His thumb delicately exploring the engorged whorl at the top of her torridly damp mound made her press her breasts against him. She twitched off his unbuttoned shirt and flicked open his trousers.
She smoothed them down over his buttocks. With only a moment's hesitation, she reached for his massive length, now moving inexorably towards her.
Blake, unable to withstand the thrill of her undressing him, touching him so ardently, moved to position himself for the first blissful stroke.
He leaned down on the mattress with his left hand. His right landed squarely on her bandaged ribs, wringing a pained cry from her which caused her to cringe away for a brief second.
His lids flew open, and he stared in horror at the young girl lying beneath him grimacing in pain, and naked as a newborn.
He leapt up dragged himself from the bed, hauling his trousers over his throbbing erection to shield himself from her gaze. "Good God, girl. Have you lost all reason?"
CHAPTER NINE
"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked in a daze, her sore ribs all but forgotten compared with the need which had been building inside her.
"Wrong! Have you any idea what you nearly did!" Blake barked.
"I-I don't understand-"
Belle lay prone on the bed, her legs wide, completely bared to his ardent gaze. He had never seen anything more lovely in his life. Or more dangerous.
He snatched one end of the sheet and pulled it up over her before he did the unthinkable and pressed their foreplay to its natural conclusion.
Anger at himself made his words even more harsh than he intended. "I could have spread you like butter and had you for supper, for Heaven's sake! If you're a light-skirt, didn't anyone tell you you're not supposed to give it up until after you've discussed payment?
"And if you really are some naïve little miss from the country on your way to visit the big city, have you got any idea how many far more nasty men than me are just waiting to snap up a tasty morsel like you? Do you prize your virginity so lightly that you would give it to a passing traveller at a flea pit of an inn?"
His words finally registered through her daze. She gasped, and blushed crimson, snatching the sheet tightly to her bosom.
"Get out! Get out! Who are you to judge me?" she shrieked, her tears falling. "You are no better than I if you can simply behave so with a woman you have only just met."
"You were the one who was behaving so invitingly. I had the self-control to stop. And the discipline and decency. I'm not proud of what I almost did, but I broke off in time. Most other men would not have."
She averted her face, tears springing to her eyes.
He moved to her side of the bed and cupped her chin to force Belle to look at him.
"Even worse would be if you inflamed one to such a degree that he could not stop, and took you by force. There's a name for that, and the consequences are dreadful. Don't dress it up with the word seduction. That makes it sound more romantic than it really is. The cold reality is that it would be rape."
At her appalled expression, Blake ran the fingers of one hand through his hair and sighed. He relaxed his grip on her chin, stepping away from the bed.
He tried to keep his voice gentle as he said, "Please, Belle, I'm telling you this for your own good. Stop whatever folly within you which has brought you to such a pass as this."
Her face suffused with colour. Her countenance reflected indignant outrage. "I'm a virgin! I will swear it on a stack of Bibles. I'm sorry, I've been a fool. It's just well, I know little of men and women. Nothing ever prepared me for the way I felt when you touched me. Or when I touched you," she admitted, the tears beginning to fall. "I'm so confused, I don't know what to think. Am I an evil person? Am I now a fallen woman?"
Her look was so beseeching that Blake relented in his anger. Tugging on his shirt to cover his bareness and conceal his still-towering bulge, he sat down on the edge of the bed furthest away from her and shook his head.
"No, Belle, not evil, and not fallen either. It is natural to feel pleasure in the act itself, with the right person, a person you admire and respect. Are married to. Committed to, at the very least, if you feel you simply cannot wait until marriage for whatever reason.
"But always keep in mind that any child of such a union will be called bastard and shunned in society. Even if you are not concerned with your own fate, you need to be aware of the impact of your actions upon others. To indulge in carnal pleasures for their own sake is the sin of lust.
"Sin is evil. You were tempted to sin. But you did not sin. You believed you esteemed me, I hope, and trusted me. Our proximity and the, the spark between us, led us astray.
"But I did not damage you. You shall go to your marriage bed whole. You need have no fear that any shame will come from this except the wound to your pride and dignity, and my harsh words of admonition that you must never, ever allow anyone to persuade you to do something which you feel is wrong."
"But you didn't even persuade me. I kissed you. Is it my wanton nature?" she asked tearfully, chewing her bottom lip.
He considered the question seriously. "A spark is good between husband and wife. It helps keep the marriage fresh, stops either of the partners from wishing to stray.
"But you are not married. In which case, as your doctor I would advise fresh air and exercise and cold baths. Try to engage in useful activities which will take your mind off these desires you've been having."
She shook her head. "That's just it. I've never had such thoughts and feelings before. Maybe I'm injured in some dreadful way from the carriage accident? Or have contracted some sort of a fever. I have never felt so before, ever."
Blake immediately resumed his clinical detachment. He tested her forehead and reflexes once more.
"I don't think you're ill. Just the bruised ribs. I've often heard passion equated with a fever, but in your case, apart from a certain blush which I feel sure is due to embarrassment, you seem fine."
She sighed. "And you, Doctor? Have you ever-" She blushed again. "I'm sorry. It is a foolish question, and in any case, I have no right."
He tested her forehead again. "Have I ever coupled with a woman? Yes. I admit to being a sinner. I wanted to go to my marriage bed a virgin, but alas, the lady would not have me. Eventually I could no longer wait."
"I see."
"Have I ever behaved in so unrestrained a manner before? No, most definitely not. Where I work, I see every day the consequences of indiscriminate licentiousness. The disease, unwanted children, unwanted pregnancies the women try to get rid of using nostrums that usually kill them. The women who die in childbirth. The women who are battered by men who force them or simply enjoy hitting them. Women whose husbands insist upon their conjugal rights even when it is actually dangerous for them to do so."
At her confused look he nodded. "When the men have contracted a disease, as I've said. Also, just before and after a woman gives birth, for example, which are dangerous times. A woman needs time to rest before, and time to heal after.
"Women are supposed to be treated with respect, protected as the weaker gender, not in terms of mind, but in terms of their ability to physically fend for themselves in the face of a greater strength than their own. If I had a sister, I would not want her to be treated by any man the way I have just treated you."
She looked at him i
n wonder. "Do not reproach yourself so bitterly. You didn't hurt me. I didn't fear you, Blake. You did not force me, lie to me. Until you began to scold me I felt no shame. It was lovely."
He sighed. "Well, it ought not to be lovely with someone little more than a stranger to you. Though of course, with some men that might excite them. No ties, no commitments. Just pleasure, and never seeing you again. For all you know, I could have been married. You deserve and need more than this."
"And are you married?" she asked quietly.
"No," he admitted, shaking his head. "Not now. Not ever."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2 Page 68
