by Carla Kelly
‘What if I get you with child?’
‘Then, you will provide for us, I imagine.’ She felt calmer as his vehemence grew. ‘I would never make any further claim on you and you are not betrothed, or even courting another woman, are you?’
‘Tess, desire is not enough reason to risk your reputation.’ Alex stood at the end of the bed, his hand on the post supporting the canopy. She knew him too well now to believe he was furious with her for being there, or that he wanted her to leave. But he was angry with himself for wanting her to stay, for wanting her at all: that she could believe.
‘No, it is not,’ she agreed, her fingers cramping on the edge of the sheet. ‘But the need for comfort is, the need to be with someone. Curiosity is, too. I am never going to marry, Alex. I am never going to find another man I trust as I trust you, one that I could risk an affair with. I would wish for memories to warm my future dreams and I think you would welcome some warmth now.’
He was so still that time might have stopped if it were not for the tick of the clock, the crackle of the fire, the beat of her heart echoing the pulse she could see in his throat.
‘No,’ Alex said.
She had one card left in her hand, and she had no idea whether it was an ace or worthless. It cost enough to hazard, so perhaps it had some value. Tess released the sheet, threw back the covers, slid from the bed and stood naked before a man for the first time in her life. She closed her eyes.
‘Tess.’
Was that good or bad? She was no beauty, she knew that. She was skinny and her breasts were small and she knew men liked breasts. But her hair was down and perhaps that covered some of the sharp angles.
‘Tess.’ Right in front of her. She could smell him now, smell his warm skin, his familiar citrus cologne, the plain soap from the bath he must have taken before dinner. ‘Look at me.’
She opened her eyes, knowing she must be one whole blush, not having any idea what to do with her hands. Alex was so close she could see his irises were dilated, so close she could hear his breathing, see his slightly parted lips.
‘I told you to run.’ His hands were on the knot of his sash.
‘I did. I ran here. I am a grown woman, Alex. I know what I want, what I need. Must I plead with you?’
‘No. Never that.’ He untied the knot at his waist, shrugged off the robe, pulled the shirt over his head and stood in front of her as naked as she was. Behind him the glow of the fire cast a nimbus of gold around his body. From in front the steady light from the little lamp threw sculpted muscles, long bones, taut tendons into sharp relief.
He was beautiful. Her exploring, fascinated gaze moved lower, stopped. This, then, was what an aroused man looked like. The fashion for tight evening breeches was revealing enough to demonstrate to even the most ignorant young woman that there was a difference between the man who had been at dinner that evening and the same man now. Magnificent. She managed not to say it aloud. There were other words—alarming, impossible—she did not say those, either.
‘Do I frighten you, Tess?’ His voice was husky with repressed emotion.
‘No. Another man would, I think. Never you. Tell me you want this, too, that you are not doing this because I asked you.’
He laughed, a gasp of pure amusement. ‘Tess, I can’t feign this.’ His gesture was graphic enough not to need words. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Nothing, except the most dire need, would have me standing in front of a man without a stitch of clothing on,’ she assured him. It is going to be all right. He wants me, I want him, we can be together, like this, for these few days.
‘You are smiling.’ So was he. ‘Come to bed, Tess, before you get cold.’
Chapter Sixteen
Such a prosaic thing, to scramble into bed, to feel the mattress dip under Alex’s heavier body, to see his big, capable hands pull up the covers.
‘I was quite nervous,’ she confided. ‘I still am. I have no idea what I am supposed to do.’ If she wasn’t careful she’d be chattering with nerves and that was the last thing he wanted, she imagined. Bad enough a gauche innocent; a wittering female would be even worse.
‘Then, spare a thought for the virgin male.’ He slid farther down the bed and pulled her with him to snuggle against his side. The slide of warm skin against skin was delicious. She itched to explore with her hands, but did not want to be clumsy.
‘You know the theory, or at least, you think you do,’ Alex said, his tone reminiscent. That was good, nothing was going to happen quite yet, not until she had her breath back. ‘But the fellows who impart these facts are probably boasting. You hope they are. And you’re the man, even if you are only fifteen and you haven’t grown into your feet yet and your body and its reactions are certainly not under your control. So you think you ought to know what you are doing, you are sure you have it all straight...and then you encounter the female body.’
The hand that was curved around her ribs began to stroke, the fingers caressing slowly down the side of her breast. Alex continued speaking as though unaware of what his hand was doing. Tess kept very quiet and still in case he noticed and stopped.
‘So soft, so responsive and so...complicated. There are curves, you know that, you have ogled them secretly for long enough. But then you discover the weight of a breast in your palm.’
He shifted, moved his arm and her small breast was lying cupped in his hand. ‘It is heavier than you imagine it will be and so unexpectedly erotic it takes your breath away. Then you discover this.’ His thumb moved, fretted back and forth across her nipple.
Tess gasped as the sensation arrowed down into her belly and her flesh became hard under the pad of his thumb.
‘You see?’ Alex shifted again so that he was half over her, his weight on one elbow. ‘Not only does it feel good, not only are you rewarded by that little miracle of a reaction, but you discover you have given her pleasure, too. So you try the other breast, only this time you find yourself doing this.’ He bent and took her other nipple between his lips, his tongue rubbing against her tight flesh while his fingers continued to tease the other nub. ‘And you discover for the first time how good a woman tastes and you wonder if she tastes the same all over. You forgot to kiss her at first because you were so nervous and so clumsy in your eagerness.’
He moved until his mouth was a fraction from hers. ‘So you taste her mouth.’
Tess arched against him as their lips met. He squashed her breasts into his chest, squeezed the nipple he was still fondling tight between his fingers, which should have hurt, but strangely only made the deep ache inside better, and worse. His tongue was talking now, showing her how he would go about exploring her taste, sweeping over hers, teasing the inside of her cheeks, withdrawing to stroke along her lips. He nibbled at them until she began to shift under him, restless, aching, and he lifted his head.
‘You discover that her mouth tastes different from her skin. Delicious, uniquely her, but different. So you want to taste more and you go adventuring.’ He slid down, pausing to lick across her breasts in great, wet, sweeping strokes of his tongue that made her want to giggle and moan all at once. Then down to her belly. His tongue traced her hip bones, her bony hip bones, she thought in despair. It tickled impertinently into her navel, which did make her giggle.
Alex shrugged off the bedcovers, which had tented over his head, and looked up, his face alive with the old familiar smile that she had despaired of seeing again. ‘And this is different again. But now you are getting impatient because you haven’t learned that restraint increases pleasure and you are still terrified that you are going to get this all wrong, so you start to shift, thinking about what has to go where and worrying that you aren’t the right size, or shape or...’
‘Or?’ She could still speak. Just. Something was happening to her body and whatever it was, she seemed to have no control over it at
all.
‘Or...you don’t know, just that you are scared to death and in heaven, too. So she, this beautiful, generous, wise, woman gives you a nudge in the right direction. Put your hand on my head and push.’
‘Push?’ His head? Confused, she did as he asked.
Alex slid down another foot or so, pressed her thighs apart and kissed her.
Tess opened her mouth to scream, but all that emerged was a long, groaning purr of pure, wicked pleasure. His tongue foraged into the secret folds, his teeth nibbled, his lips sucked and kissed and... ‘Ooh!’
Tess came to herself to find Alex lying on her, his weight on his elbows, his legs between her spread thighs. He lodged perfectly in the cradle her body made. ‘That was...’
‘Good, isn’t it?’ He grinned, obviously pleased for both of them.
‘I had no idea. I thought you just...’ She blushed. ‘Um, put it...’
‘We can do that next.’ He shifted his hips and something pressed against her. Alex frowned when she wriggled, eager. ‘It might not be so good, not the first time, I understand.’
‘Have you never made love to a virgin before?’ The pressure was more of an intrusion now, but this was Alex, she told herself, he would be as careful as he could be.
‘No, so this is a first time for both of us. I think...’ He nudged forward a little. ‘Yes, quick might be good.’
‘Ow!’ They both went still. Tess considered how she felt. ‘Go on.’
So he did. Things went from tight and sore to tight and wonderful to a glorious confusion of sensation and movement. ‘Oh, Alex! Yes.’
She felt him go tense, then pull away and then groan as he held her and she slipped into a haze of pleasure.
* * *
‘Tess, sweetheart.’ A whisper in her ear, a hand gliding over her hip, then settling between her thighs.
‘Hmm.’ She wriggled against Alex’s fingers. ‘Again?’
‘No, wicked one. Time for you to go back to your own bed.’
She sat up and found the beside lamp still burning and illuminating the very gratifying sight of one large naked man stretched out on the bed beside her. Alex even managed to look elegant with morning stubble and not a stitch of clothing. My lover. My love.
He got up and bent to retrieve her nightgown, affording a magnificent view of taut buttocks and trim waist. ‘What?’ he enquired as he turned.
‘I was ogling you.’ Tess put on the nightgown. ‘You are a very pleasing shape.’
To her delight colour slashed across his cheekbones as he reached for his robe, then made a business of finding hers. ‘No slippers?’
‘No, I was tiptoeing. Look at all those muscles.’ She reached for his arm and curled her fingers around his biceps as far as they would go. ‘I think I was seduced by your shoulders from that first evening.’
‘I was trying very hard to think of you as a nun,’ he confessed as he removed her hand from his arm and pulled her to her feet. ‘It was overly exciting to discover that nuns do not wear corsets.’
‘I do now.’ Tess tied the sash of her robe.
‘That can have its moments, too. Now hush.’
He delivered her back to her door. As she closed it she heard a muffled sound as though a hand had been laid against the panels, then the soft pad of his footsteps.
‘I love you,’ she whispered. ‘Sleep well, Alex.’
* * *
Alex strolled along the corridor to the study, consciously slowing his pace to distance himself from the anxious scurry of the nervous youth he had been the last time he’d been ordered here.
He had given up on sleep at the first faint sound of servants moving discreetly around the house. Before he had taken her back to her room he had dozed with Tess in his arms, too shaken by the experience to lose himself in unconsciousness. Besides, it was a new pleasure to lie like this with a lover and to watch over her, observe the flicker of her eyes beneath those fragile lids as she dreamed, the soft, parted lips, the way her hair lay like silk on his shoulder.
She had been right; this had made them both happy. Now he had to make certain nothing went wrong for her. He was most certainly not going to allow her to go off to some employment agency in the new year and tie herself to some form of genteel drudgery. Somehow he had to persuade her to accept his support without her firing up and declaring it was payment for coming to his bed.
Now, despite the lack of sleep, he felt alert and much calmer than he had last evening. More accepting of a fate he could not, in all honour, avoid, he supposed, although a desire to forgive still eluded him.
The clock struck ten. He knocked and entered. ‘Good morning, Father.’ He would not give way to the urge to say my lord. The man was his parent.
‘Sit down.’ His father sat behind the great mahogany desk that still looked vast, even from an adult’s viewpoint. ‘Let us not beat about the bush. Your mother would have me understand that you are not the effeminate pervert I accused you of being.’
‘Well, that is certainly to the point.’ Alex settled himself in the chair opposite. ‘Let me be equally clear. I have never been attracted to my own sex. I have never been with a member of my own sex. However, I do have—and had—friends who have that sexual inclination and I will not stay in this house to hear them insulted in the terms you have just used.’
His father’s pale face flushed an unhealthy red. ‘It is a hanging offence.’
‘Indeed it is. And let us be clear about something else, as well. You accused Peter Agnew, my best friend, of being my lover.’
‘He was older than you, he had a reputation—’
‘He was my friend. Never my lover.’ Alex fought to keep rational, not to shout and rant, throw all the anger that had seethed inside over the blind prejudice that had led his father to leap to conclusions. ‘We had grown up together and he was like an older brother to me. He knew very well that I was attracted to women, and only women. God, I must have bored him to tears, pouring out all my youthful infatuations with this girl and that, confiding all the things that worried me before the first time.
‘He would have no more tried to seduce me than any man of honour would attempt to seduce the daughter of a friend. In my ignorance, I had no idea how he felt about me until I read the letter he sent me before he blew out his brains. And he did that because you’d broadcast his name around the neighbourhood. Would you have had the restraint and the decency to suppress everything you felt for someone because it was for their own good? Would I? That keeps me awake at night sometimes, wondering. I have no idea if I can ever forgive you for it.’ Somehow he had said it without losing his temper, without raising his voice.
He had never spoken of it except to his four friends at university. He had fled back to Oxford, angry, guilty, racked with shame and grief. They’d listened, Cris and Grant and Gabriel. Cris had simply flung his arms around him in a bear hug and then Gabe handed him a large brandy and Grant had said, ‘Whatever you want to do, we’re with you.’ He knew then he could stand on his own two feet and that they would always have his back, just as he would have theirs.
His father was still glowering. Strangely it made it easier to stay calm. ‘I really do not understand why you feel I had to fit into the mould of hunting, drinking, wenching masculinity you favour in order to be an adequate heir to the earldom. I was bookish, interested in art. That was, apparently, enough to label me less than manly.’ Alex shrugged. ‘If you had taken the trouble, you might have discovered that I am an excellent fencer, a more than adequate rider and that I actually perform quite well in the boxing ring. I just tend to do it all rather quietly and while dressed with elegance.’
His father glowered at him. ‘You had no idea about young Agnew? Damn it, rumours were flying about his behaviour at Cambridge. I assumed...’
Alex stared back at the red face opposit
e him. If his father was going to bluster and rant, refuse to accept he had been wrong, then he was going to walk out of this house and never come back.
‘I was wrong.’ Gradually the hectic colour in his father’s face subsided.
Alex let out the breath he had been unaware of holding, unclenched his hands from the arms of the chair. You stubborn, thickheaded old devil. Why not just ask me? Alex got up, poured a glass of brandy and set it by his hand. ‘You look as though you could do with that.’
‘What are your debts?’ the earl snapped.
‘Debts? None at all. I am a rich man, Father. I don’t need your money. I most certainly do not need this aggravation.’
‘So doing your duty is an aggravation, is it?’
‘Certainly. I doubt I’ll have any time for my own business or for travelling, not if I’m to do this properly.’
‘You’ll need a wife. Time you were setting up your nursery.’ He narrowed his eyes in calculation. ‘Not that young woman you’ve brought with you. Pleasant chit, unspoiled, I like that. But no family from what I could extract from her.’
‘No.’ No family that would acknowledge her, that was certain. The heir to an earldom did not marry an unknown miss straight from a convent. He certainly did not marry the illegitimate offspring of the daughter of a near neighbour. It had not struck him that he might want to marry Tess until he had seen the evidence of her parentage in black and white in the Peerage. Foolish that, to be so attracted to a woman, to feel so protective of her, so aroused by her and not realise that he was developing feelings that went far deeper than affection. Foolish and damnably painful.
It was tempting to announce that he would never marry and to stick the knife in that way, but that, too, was foolish. He had to wed; he knew that now. All he had to do was accept it.
‘I’ll squire Maria around for her Season. That will expose me to all the eligibles.’ It would make him feel like a buyer at a cattle market. How the devil did you come to know a woman that way? He knew Tess right through to her heart, and after last night he thought he probably knew her soul deep, as well.
