by Suzi Love
Wishing he could possess this lady and keep her for all time was nonsensical. “No, no, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
He stared at the ceiling and its ornate plasterwork rather than meet her gaze, and even debated if he could live with himself if he prolonged their relationship and hoped his bride to be didn’t learn his secrets. “Wanting things that are impossible.”
Carina sat up, scrunching herself into the step and glancing around for something to cover her nakedness. “Your change in behavior is scaring me.”
He sighed. “I was caught up in a romantic fantasy. One that can never happen.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know.” She gave him an impish grin. “But I didn’t bank you being so poetic and romantic. Light-hearted.”
“Unfortunately, bubbles of happiness drift out of reach, or burst.”
“If you’ve such a pessimist, why marry at all and subject Alice to your misery?”
He shrugged. “I can’t imagine how you remain so optimistic.”
“I have to believe that I can give my sisters a rosier future.”
He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her small body. “And when I’m with you, I’m optimistic enough to perceive a better future for both of us.”
Putting his arms beneath her knees, he lifted her and strode down the hall. With a fire burning, the drawing room was a cozier option, and nothing to do with sparing her the embarrassment of becoming another in the line of women who’d used the bed upstairs. He laid her on the plush carpet before the fire and waggled his brows mischievously.
“Where was I with my sunrise painting?” Using both hands, he sketched the arcs from top to toe and dallied in every crease and hollow. “Ah, yes, stunning white hiding beneath beautiful red. Scarlet flashes are scandalous and white streaks are virginal, while pink indicates an underlying modesty. You’ve never given your naked body to any man except your past and current lover—me—who gives you so much pleasure that you’ll beg to continue our affair.”
They stared at each other in tense silence. “I’m sorry, Carina. I was carried away with my own fantasies and something that we both know can’t happen.”
“Any longer and rumors will fly, and people we care about will be hurt.”
“Yes, thank you for being sensible when I keep forgetting myself.” He lowered his head to her nipple and nibbled it, drawing it out through his teeth until she giggled.
“And my nipple, kind artiste, what does it represent in the sunrise?”
“These two delightful buds represent your body’s strong desire for sex. They protrude in lustful anticipation while waiting for the perfect lover, again me, who will tease and taunt them towards fulfillment.”
He lifted her breasts higher and gave a light flick with his tongue over each bud, so she could see the effect of his words on her nipples. “Uh, uh,” he said, when she demandingly arched up off the carpet. “I’ve something in mind to complete our painting.”
“You’re torturing me. Our scheduled hour must be well past, so could you please hurry.” She scowled. “Before I go mad.” She pulled his head down for a kiss and took his mouth with hunger and impatience.
He stretched full length between her legs and wriggled forward, so her legs widened and his mouth blew heat over her curls and folds. Red curls lifted and fluttered, and he murmured, “So pretty, little Carrot-top.”
She gave a shocked gasp and tried to close her knees, but he soothed her with soft murmurs and light touches until they dropped open. Her groans began the moment he pushed two fingers past her swollen folds and inside her warm passage. Moisture trickled over his fingers, the flow increasing as he pushed in and out in a steady rhythm that demanded she give herself over to sensation and release the orgasms that hovered just out of her reach.
“Oh, Carina, I wish you could see yourself. Shiny and red, and wet, and mine.” He ran his tongue up each thigh and between his fingers, keeping up a slow insistent pressure on each side of her throbbing centre.
“Max!” She sounded shocked when his tongue replaced his fingers, and burrowed inside and lapped at her wetness. “Surely only a true courtesans allow that.”
He laughed but didn’t move from his position of worship, instead giving three swift circular lashes with his tongue. “Perhaps I should tell you then that, though I’ve tasted women before, I’ve never wanted to hold up a mirror and share this erotic view with any mistresses. And I’ve never lingered and licked the juices flowing down their legs, and then gone back for more and more.”
He swirled his tongue around her clitoris and she jumped. “And there’s never been another woman who gushes like a waterfall after a storm when my tongue is inside her. No light skirt has ever responded to the things I’ve done as naturally, or as sexily, as you.”
“Oh!” She slammed her knees together and jolted upright.
“Ouch! That hurt.” He rubbed at his imaginary wounds, but burst into fits of laughter at her horrified expression. “If you could see… Stop!”
She swatted wildly at his head with one hand, but he took it and toppled her down to meet him.
“How dare you! Do you mean you’ve… done things to me…that…?”
He rolled her to her back, covered her and clasped her hands above her head. He rocked back and forth a little and groaned. His erection jerked against her stomach, insistent and urgent, while he struggled to explain himself.
“I’ve no excuse for my outlandish behavior, other than being with you makes me crazy and I want to do things to you, and with you, that I’ve never dreamed of with other women. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She stroked his hair. “I always understand because it’s as if we’re—”
“Connected.”
She nodded. “A dangerous connection for us both.”
“I know.”
He kissed her long and hard, pouring all his yearnings into her mouth and, afterwards, into her body. Words couldn’t be spoken, but he wanted her to know that deep down he wished he could give more and promise more. Their second bout of sex was unhurried and the incessant ticking of the mantle clock was all but ignored, despite Max unconsciously timing his thrusts to the ticking of the second hand as they counted off the hours.
Each wet slap sounded joyously and each stolen moment a priceless memory, though the lingering farewell on the doorstep sliced like a knife blade.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as she climbed into the carriage.
He closed the door and said, “We’re not finished, Carina. We still have time.”
She shook her head and turned her face away.
He stood outside the cottage and made himself, and the heavens, a promise. “One way or another, my sweet, you belong to me and I will have you again.”
Chapter Eleven
Carina let herself into Woods House with her key. She’d instructed the servants to not wait up and, cowardly, she’d left Gertie to explain that she was visiting an old friend.
The Duke’s coachman had agreed to put her down at the quietest corner of the square, but sneaking into her house carried risks, grave risks. As she was a rich widow, the gossipmongers would allow more leeway than they would have for an unmarried woman. However a scandal could ruin her sisters’ chances with suitable gentlemen. The sooner Georgie and Lucy were married and under the protection of husbands, the less chance there’d be for their stepbrother to seize control. After enduring so many miserable years, surely they’d earned a little happiness?
She wandered upstairs to her sitting room, reliving each satiating moment of her evening and unable to believe that, for once, she hadn’t been dreaming. Their time together had been amazing and far better than her first night with Max, when she’d been an ignorant adolescent. But disillusioned widows had no right to believe in fairytales, handsome princes or in love. An affair was a short term arrangement, and she and Max had different long term objectives. Max would marry his child-like bride, she’d see her sisters were well-situ
ated and then begin her travels. Gertie borrowed books from the circulating library and read about the exotic ports they planned to visit.
She walked to the sideboard to pour herself a tot of brandy and heard a soft knock. “Come in, Gertie.”
Her friend would want to reassure herself that Carina had survived the evening unscathed. Gertie accepted a small glass of brandy too and they sank into the fireside chairs to slowly sip their drinks, a habitual ritual enjoyed by two close friends.
“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense. Are you alright?”
Carina nodded. “Max would never hurt me, nor anyone else.” Max had reintroduced her to passion with such exquisite care that she felt empowered, and yet sad. “He has his faults: smugness and pompousness.”
Gertie chuckled. “Self-righteousness about his unbeatable heritage.”
“Pig-headedness.
Gertie laughed. “And his blind faith in Augustus’s teachings. And yet…”
Carina nodded her agreement. “Despite his upbringing, ingrained decency won’t allow him to ignore injustice, and he’d defend a woman with his life.”
“Ah, I see.” Gertie stared into her glass.
Carina narrowed her gaze at her friend. Gertie was a shrewd judge of character and an astute observer of human nature; little escaped her notice.
“What do you see?” Though Carina could predict the answer.
“Max treated you well this evening, so you couldn’t blame him for anything, or everything.” She arched a brow. “Am I correct?”
Carina snorted. “Blast you, yes. I wish I wasn’t so transparent.”
“Never fear, your inner thoughts are only decipherable to me and your sisters.”
Carina smiled. “After tonight, you could possibly add one more name to that list.”
“The Duke of Stirkton?”
She nodded. “He read my thoughts and anticipated my every wish. It was a trifle disconcerting, though rather pleasing. Which worries me, because I don’t know how to resist a man intent on pleasuring me.”
“Pleasuring? What a delicious thought. Now, tell me all, so I may live vicariously through you and what was obviously a passion-filled evening.”
Carina shook her head. “No, no, no. It would be unladylike to reveal any intimate details, though I will say this.” She sighed. “Max is a very skillful lover. His experiences with the prostitutes his grandfather selected—”
“And his recent mistresses.”
Carina scowled. She dismissed Max’s encounters with earlier prostitutes because he’d had no choice, but imagining him with talented courtesans in their cottage was painful. No, she must think of it as the Duke’s Brent Street house and not their cottage, despite her stomach squirming at the notion of her duke with any other lover.
When she’d tried to rise and dress, he’d enticed her back to the carpet for one last interlude and she’d taken little persuading to make love with him one more time. No matter how much she tried to deny it, they hadn’t had sex. They’d made love. And that catastrophic knowledge had stunned them both to silence afterwards. She’d donned her clothing in a haphazard rush and had scurried out to his waiting carriage.
She stared into the fire and thought of the nameless parade of women who’d walked on that carpet and felt unclean. She shook her head. “No!”
To survive a month, she needed to harden her heart. At this very moment, Max was certain to be doing the same thing, while berating himself for letting down his guard.
“A penny for them.” Gertie had a small knowing smile on her face.
“Not worth a penny.”
“Are they worth an introductions for your sisters? Take care that Stirkton’s price doesn’t prove too costly, because I fear he may have to hurt you in order to protect others.”
“What is all this doom and gloom? Has something happened?”
Gertie took a long swallow of brandy and then fussed over placing her glass on the side table. “Your stepbrother came here tonight.”
“Peter? Oh, no. What did he want?”
“To speak with you on a matter of urgency. I informed him you were out with friends and wouldn’t return until very late.”
“Did he ask to speak to Georgie and Lucy?”
“Yes, but I said they’d retired early after draining social outings. I’m not sure if he believed me, but he’ll most likely be back. He was adamant that he’d speak with you.”
“This can’t be good. I hoped to avoid him until the girls had been introduced to a wide circle of gentlemen.”
“Hm. And you wanted more time to spend with Stirkton.”
“If I don’t uphold my part of our bargain, he’ll be entitled to break his promise and I’ll never find the hidden documents, nor locate the two men.”
Gertie sighed, “I’ve said this before, but perhaps this is a sign to forget finding those men. Max was your first lover and you now have more good memories of being with him.”
“I have wonderful memories, but I’m also too close to verifying the next man on the list to abandon my search.”
“Your suspicions are shocking.” She shuddered. “I can’t bring myself to believe it. The idea sickens me. But you’ve enough problems right here, without inviting more trouble.”
“I’ve no intention of stirring up trouble or disrupting their lives. It’s simply to confirm what happened and why those two particular men were chosen.”
“For the same reason Max was chosen. Money, four times over. The Earl was renowned for his greed.”
“And his perversions.”
“Thankfully, his perversions were only known to a few people.”
“I still wonder how Augustus knew of the Earl’s plan for an heir while keeping his impotence secret.” She grinned. “Perhaps they collided while peeping like lecherous schoolboys through the knotholes in the same brothel wall?”
Gertie giggled. “That’s a dreadful thought to take to bed. We’ll have nightmares.”
Carina linked arms with her friend and, still giggling, they walked to their bedchambers. The best way to cope with memories of what her husband did was to trivialize it and laugh.
Gertie constantly reprimanded her for dwelling on the past, but until she’d spoken with the two men who’d paid an enormous amount to spend a night with her, the past would continue to haunt her. Once she’d confronted them and decided they didn’t threaten her safety she’d move on, though curiosity would drive her to ask questions.
Were they bullied into spending a night with her the way Max had been pressured? And if so, by whom? Augustus was an evil man, who would have threatened retribution on either her, the Earl or the hapless inn keeper. Though blaming Augustus didn’t mean she’d completely absolved Max.
Gertie labelled it her morbid obsession, but she couldn’t rest until she knew if paying for her virginity had been nothing more than a lark for two men of good breeding, or if there had been more sinister reasons? The first gentleman—the youngest—had family, who’d thought to browbeat him into foregoing a vow of chastity until he married. After climbing into the inn’s bed, the two young innocents had clung together and whispered their dreams and fears.
Joseph had planned to be a country minister who tended his flock, took a sweet wife and produced a brood of children. If he’d stuck to his plan, he’d have been easy to forgive, and no doubt his church would have appreciated a gift of a new roof or more bedrooms added to the vicarage to house his numerous offspring. A cloud of doubt hovered over the other one, as she was unsure how she’d feel or react.
An hour later, Carina tossed and turned in her bed as her mind and body recalled Max’s whispered words and the feel of his hands caressing, teasing and arousing. She longed for his muscled heat to be pressed against her, skin to skin, and to feel his warm breath hovering around her neck and ears. Her nipples tightened at the thought of his tongue wetly lashing them, over and over. She groaned.
If one night in his arms disturbed her sleep and made her yearn for the fo
rbidden, she’d be a wreck after weeks with a man who’d promised to teach her lovemaking skills from Asia, where men and women routinely reached the highest peaks of pleasure. A young girl’s adoration for a virile lover instead of a fumbling old man was one thing, but tumbling time after time into Max’s waiting arms was another. Part of her wanted to explore the desire that rose between them every time they were together, and to understand the joy Gertie had experienced with her husband for many years.
After restless sleep, she went downstairs to join the others for breakfast. Lucy, as usual, was chattering a mile a minute about their planned activities and guessing which gentlemen they might encounter on their morning excursions. As a rule, Georgie was more subdued. But today she smiled as she had when a child, openly and sunnily, as if she’d shrugged off her previous melancholy and happily welcomed the new day.
Carina bent to kiss her sister’s cheek and Georgie surprised her by reaching back to pat her cheek. The returned touch by her sister, who had avoided all physical contact for so long, gave Carina heart. Perhaps launching Georgie in London had been the right thing to do, and she thanked God that she and Gertie had made the right decision. And with Georgie staying at Woods House, she was out of Peter’s reach for the time being.
Carina slid into her seat and forked up her breakfast with a suddenly increased appetite. More than half her plate of eggs and sausages had disappeared before she realized that she was being watched. “What is it?” She frowned when Gertie smirked, Lucy giggled and Georgie smiled.
“You’ve not eaten such a hearty breakfast for some time,” Lucy said with wide-eyed innocence. “Your evening with your friend must have been very energetic.”
Carina choked and Gertie laughed behind her napkin. Lucy and Georgie exchanged puzzled glances, until Gertie finally came to her rescue.
“Carina must have danced for several hours to build up such an appetite.” She glanced at her friend. “We’re glad you’re feeling more like your old self, because we’ve been worried about you.”
