Four Times a Virgin (Irresistible Aristocrats Book 2)

by Suzi Love

  Carina laughed. “Your omnipotent powers allow you to control Mother Nature along with everything else, do they?”

  “Meacham males have always been virile, and my experience up till now tells me I’ll be no different.”

  Her nose screwed up in a puzzled squint. “In all these years of buying women, you’ve never slipped up? Not once? Never been overcome with passion and forgotten about prevention? Planted a babe on one of them?”

  “Of course not. Taking precautions is a simple matter, and the women who come here are experienced and take care that there are no illegitimate Meachams. They understand that a bastard could never be acknowledged.”

  “And what of me, Max?”

  “What of you?”

  “I’m different. Inexperienced, and I’ve no contrivances to prevent pregnancy. To be truthful, I’ve never purchased preventatives and I’ve no idea where to find them. What will you do to ensure that I don’t catch a child before our month concludes?”

  “Very well. Let’s be blunt. With my experience, I can time my release. Only an untried youth cannot withdraw at the correct moment and I left that stage at fourteen. I’ve never spilt my seed inside a woman.”

  “I beg to differ. One woman received your seed.” She paused and watched him as she added, “Me.”

  He closed his eyes, not wanting to meet her knowing look. Never, not once, not even to himself had he admitted his slip that night. Augustus would have been furious to learn Max had left precious Meacham seed inside a bought woman. Seed spilled inside a woman was to procreate an heir, nothing else.

  “That never happened.”

  “Deny the memory if you wish, but you didn’t pull out of my body quickly enough. I was a naïve seventeen-year-old who didn’t know understand that a woman could become pregnant so easily, but the Earl was more than happy to point out my stupidity. He was ecstatic that I might be carrying your child after that one mistake. After that, he watched me the way a hawk watches a mouse before diving in for the kill.”

  “He was anxious for you to have your menses.”

  “Huh! To the contrary. He counted off the days and prayed that I didn’t bleed.”

  Max shook his head. “Why would he not want you—oh, good Lord!” He grabbed his head in both hands and groaned. “The Earl was impotent. He wanted another man’s child, my child, to be born to his countess.”

  Carina tilted her head and studied him. “For a business man reputed to be the most cold blooded in the city, I’m surprised that you’re distressed over the trivial matter of impregnating another man’s wife.”

  “How dare you joke? The thought of bearing a child to a man who was a complete stranger must have revolted you.”

  “At first, yes. Then I realized that having your baby would be my only chance.”

  “Chance for what?”

  “Having a child to love, my own family. My stepbrother sold me and sent me away from my sisters, and both he and the Earl told me I couldn’t see my family again.”

  “You─” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You wanted to carry my child?”

  “In my entire seventeen years, you were the first man, the only man, who’d ever been nice to me.”

  Max wished her husband lived so he could dispatch the man to a fiery end with his own hands. As for her stepbrother, he’d deal with him as soon as all the evidence was collected. Carina had spent a night with a stranger when she was seventeen; the bastard who’d claimed her innocence—him—and that was her kindest encounter. His own torments paled in insignificance, as he realized how she’d survived, thrived and created a new life for herself.

  When he was younger, he’d accepted his future role as the sixth duke without dispute. As he’d matured, he’d seen his grandfather frozen in time and had vowed that he wouldn’t be merely another feudal Meacham, feared rather liked by his tenants and staff. Yet his attempts to right past wrongs had moved at snail’s pace and the sixth Duke, a powerful man across the breadth of England, now envied a country widow because she’d outpaced him with her drive, stamina and determination to change her future.

  “My actions were despicable and I cannot fathom how you can forgive me, while seeking revenge on other men who probably did you less harm. Please, help me understand.” He sounded desperate, but he needed to know what qualified him for redemption.

  “Despite the influences of a perverted old man, your inherent decency was evident; you were a gentleman through and through. You touched me with reverence, as if I were special. Because of those memories, I’ll not allow you to treat me a whore. I beg you, during our month: prove that not all men are evil and cruel, and take me to your bed for reasons other than monetary or an exchange of information.”

  He paced the confines of the small room, wanting her to see his bewilderment at her request. “I don’t know if I’m capable of relaxing my guard in bed.” He gave her a hard stare. “I was taught that strong emotions weaken a man’s character in the eyes of others. What do you expect of me?”

  “Very little really. Perhaps to think of me between our visits here.”

  “Ha! Once women walk out that door I wipe them from my mind, and you’ll be no different.”

  “Then at least treat me with the same respect you showed when I was seventeen.”

  If this courtesy atoned for anything he’d done, he’d bow to her request. She didn’t need to know that his hunger for her lush body would be satisfied and he’d finally be able to wipe Carina from his mind

  “So be it. Though I can only promise to treat you as a friend.”

  She dipped her head. “That’s something anyway. I don’t want to feel like your enemy while we share our bodies.”

  He ran his fingers down the soft skin of her face and neck, and she turned towards his hand and nuzzled like a kitten. His hands cupped her face and his mouth brushed her cheeks, coming closer and closer to her mouth but not touching. Tenderness was new territory, but he enjoyed hearing the little whimpers of need she made, and prolonged what he was doing until her noises grew louder and his enjoyment rose, as did his arousal.

  His confidence grew and he was determined to create some beautiful memories for Carina to remember him by, though it seemed contradictory to want her to cling his memory when soon he would be outing her out of his mind and concentrating on Alice. Still, he’d practiced the science of lovemaking since he was fourteen and knew how to pleasure Carina until she screamed his name and begged for release, over and over.

  His nibbled her dainty earlobe and ran his hands up and down her body, relearning her shape and escalating her need. Even through her layers of clothing, she felt warm and feminine and his own cravings turned deep and desperate. Qualifying his gnawing ache as lust was pointless, because he’d barely begun to take her for the first time and he already wanted to claim her as his, again and again and again.

  “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. “I’ll unbutton your dress.”

  Carina turned but peered back over her shoulder. “Is this what you normally do, unbutton gowns?”

  “For pity’s sake, woman, I’m trying to change my normal habits and yet you’re questioning me about other women’s clothing.”

  “But I don’t know how to please you? Isn’t that why I’m here, to make you happy?”

  “Damn it! You’re the most contrary woman I’ve ever encountered. You only need to go to bed with me and I’ll be happy.”

  He cursed the tiny buttons running down the back of her gown, while she peered back at him with piercing green eyes that dared him to drop his mask and reveal something more.

  “The answer to your question is no. I’ve no time to waste on undoing tiny buttons that aren’t made for a man’s hands.” He gritted his teeth and fumbled with the small fastenings. “I rarely take a meal here and I’m not present when they undress.” His fingers halted. “How the hell did they manage?”

  She laughed. “Typical male who never considers the difficulties
of female clothing. I assume they either wore front closing clothing or had a maid secreted somewhere.”

  He glanced around, half-expecting to see a maid’s head pop out.

  Carina chuckled. “I assumed you’d organize our assignation down to the last detail. Though I should have considered buttons, because I can’t picture you ripping the clothing from my body in a ravenous frenzy like the heroes in one of those penny dreadfuls that my sisters devour each week.

  Max frowned, uncertain if he’d been insulted for his lack of passion or praised for his organizational skills. Ripping off her gown and throwing her to the floor would prove that he was a flesh and blood male, who was more desperate to plough her warm depths than he was to see his ship sail into port.

  His entire body jerked at the thought of taking her in the ravenous frenzy that had fuelled his dreams, and his fingers twisted in a lock of her hair curled near one gaping buttonhole.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry.” He touched his lips to her hand, which she rubbed over her scalp on the spot where he’d inadvertently tugged her hair.

  “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. She slid her fingers out and he pressed his mouth into her soft red hair, moved from side to side and enjoyment the sensation of springy curls tickling his face. “My curls are... Hmm.” She moaned and wiggled her bottom against his trousers and his prick screamed for release “...unruly. Curls tangle in everything.”

  “Your curls are as magnificent as a summer sunrise and, like you, they’re vibrant and warming.”

  He closed his eyes and savored the moment, because moments of intimacy were rare and likely to be scarcer during an arranged and formal marriage. He held his breath at her long sigh and hoped his maudlin sentiment hadn’t embarrassed them both. Letting his guard down left him exposed and vulnerable, and he waited for her laughter or ridicule.

  “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me, especially about my unruly hair. Thank you.”

  Thank God she hadn’t called him a sentimental idiot. His prick stirred and prodded him to take action, but a wish to prolong this moment made him dawdle.

  He concentrated on disrobing the lady, though his trembling wasn’t helping. “I’m rather ham-fisted because I’ve never even seen a woman undress before, let alone assisted her.”

  “I like the feel of your fingers on my skin.” She shivered. “Nicer than being touched my sisters or my maid.”

  He slipped buttons free of their moorings, one by one, until her gown slid off her shoulders. When her head dropped forward, he responded to her sensuous invitation by bending to nuzzle her bare neck, inhaling roses—sweetly enticing roses—and dredging up memories of another woman who smelled of roses. When he was ten, he’d been stranded at Eton for term break because his grandfather’s carriage was stopped by a flooded stream.

  A school acquaintance, Freddie Hepworth, came from a large and loving family, and his mother, Lady Hepworth, had scooped Max up and taken him home with Freddie to join her other five children. What Max remembered was that she’d kissed him each morning and night as if he’d belonged to her, and when she’d kissed him, she’d smelt of roses. Sweet, sweet roses and pungent lavender. In a lonely boy’s mind, those scents meant gentleness and love.

  He nuzzled closer, inhaling the heady scent and lightly brushing up and down her neck with his mouth, until she turned to him and tilted her mouth for his kiss. He rarely kissed anyone, though he’d respond in kind if a courtesan instigated it, while making it clear such intimacies were unnecessary. Carina’s lips glistened wet, red, and her breath held the sharp tang of red wine; he needed his mouth on hers more than he needed to breathe.

  “Soft, so soft and wet for me,” he murmured into her open mouth.

  His lips moved back and forth across hers in an entice-and-retreat pattern, until her mouth fell open and her breathing became panting. Even white teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and she sucked it in a dance of seduction he was powerless to resist, and his own ragged breathing sent his head spinning.

  “Christ almighty!” He gripped her arms and pulled back a scant few inches to allow them more air. Her stunned surprise reflected his.

  Her tongue licked across her swollen red mouth and, tormenting him, the tip of her tongue stopped at every reddened spot to touch and access, as if testing to see if her lips still belonged to her. “If my body sings and screams after a simple kiss, how will I cope with our lovemaking?”

  “How will I?” The words were out of his mouth before he thought, and her eyes widened at his honesty.

  “You? But you’ve done this hundreds of times.”

  “Never.”

  “Never what?”

  “You’re the only woman I’ve ever kissed that way. In Dorchester, and then now.”

  Her fingers touched her swollen lips, and he removed them gently and used his tongue to worship her mouth, licking in sweeping motions until they both trembled and shook.

  She pulled away. “Are you telling me that you’ve never kissed any other woman?”

  “Not like that, no.” He shrugged. “I love your mouth and I enjoy kissing you. Come, let us go upstairs.” He waved towards the steps and she started up but, on the bottom step, she hesitated and turned to meet his eyes. Her next step was backwards, so she stood slightly above him. Letting go of her gown, she shimmied her arms out of the tiny flounced sleeves and let the bodice slide towards her hips, her eyes fixing him in place the way a cobra mesmerized its prey.

  “If they’re usually naked when you go upstairs, I won’t be, because our hour together will be different in every way.”

  “Oh, God, Carina, if you only knew.”

  He ran his hands down her arms and watched her skin shiver with gooseflesh and her arms tremble in the wake of his touch. He moaned.

  “Our time together was destined to be different from the moment you stood in my drawing room and challenged me.” He shook his head and looked at her with sadness. “Don’t you see, I’m helpless to resist you? You hold me in thrall with every word and deed.”

  “And is that such a bad thing?”

  “Ha!” He threw back his head and gave a harsh bark of laughter. “You’ve no idea what it does to me, do you? How everything comes tumbling down around my ears when you challenge me or laugh at me. I erected a wall, brick by brick, to block away the horrors of my past, so I could face a future that my grandfather arranged, and that I never wanted.”

  She gave a broken sob and reached for him, but he stepped back. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No, I don’t want your pity. That’s not why I said that.”

  He turned a circle at the bottom of the steps and stayed out of her reach. God knew, if she touched him and looked at with compassion in her eyes and tenderness in her voice, he’d break. “Compared to you, Countess, I’m the scum on the bottom of the pond!”

  She snorted. “Have you forgotten that you accused me of slaughtering the Earl?”

  He shook his head. “Stupid taunts and far wide of the mark, because I know you’re not capable of murder.”

  “I don’t know,” she said in a wry tone. “I may not have dispensed with my husband, but when I find the fourth man, meet with him, and if I have my suspicions confirmed-”

  “Suspicions? You didn’t tell me you might know who he is. What’s his name?”

  She waved a dismissive hand in a gesture he recognized as her way of cutting off a discussion. “I don’t know.”

  He frowned. “But you suspect someone and I want to know his name.”

  “Why? So you can charge off on your black stallion and run the villain through with your sword. What would Alice say about her intended making a spectacle of himself defending another woman’s honor?”

  Guilt stabbed in the same as when she spoke of his forthcoming wedding.

  “Thank you for the concern, but I will do this by myself. Besides which, I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.”

  “If it’s dangerous, I shall tak
e care of it and you won’t be involved.”

  She shook her head. “The Earl left me in this situation and though he wasn’t the best of husbands, I can’t understand why he did it and what he had to gain. When I find out who it is and why, I can then decide how to solve the problem and make us safe, once and for all.”

  “You’re talking in riddles. Keeping things from me.”

  “No more. The next hour is about us. We undress here and not upstairs.”

  He glanced around. They stood out of sight of the street; the curtains were drawn and the doors were locked. A frisson of excitement shot through him; his blood heated and rushed to his groin. His erection, not sighted for many months, swelled and shouted for attention. Imagining Carina’s naked body, not hidden under linen sheets, gave him the incentive to forget old habits and start anew as she wanted.

  “Yes.” He struggled out of his tight-fitting coat and, with one strong tug, unraveled the intricate knot his valet had spent fifteen minutes perfecting. Now it seemed ridiculous, but he’d been nervous earlier and had fretted and fidgeted in front of his mirror. If his valet had guessed the reason, his training stopped him from mentioning it, though he’d rolled his eyes and huffed in a put-upon fashion when Max had rejected item after item.

  After taking over an hour to dress, he stripped himself of all but his trousers and boots in minutes. His linen shirt landed on the fast-growing pile of garments, before the sight of Carina stepping free of her second petticoat stopped his progress. His chest tightened with that now familiar ache which happened when he was with her.

  She loosened the laces of her short corset and pulled the boning away from her body, letting it catch on her hips before she shimmied it down to the floor, leaving her covered only by a transparent shift. They stared with matching hungry looks, as if they were starved and the sight of the other’s body would nourish them for the next year.

  “Allow...” He cleared his throat. “Allow me to help. Sit and I’ll remove your boots.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise.