Passion and Pretense

by Susan Gee Heino

Well, that was easily remedied. She bunched it up in her fists, too, and yanked it over her head. The cold air washed over her, but it only served to make her skin all the more sensitive to his nearness, the heat radiating from him.

  “Now who is unfair, sir?” she asked, cocking one eyebrow at his trousers.

  He didn’t reply. He seemed temporarily incapable of it. Instead, his mouth merely froze in a half-open state and his eyes shifted to search her body, from head to toe. She stood motionless, willing herself not to flee such careful scrutiny.

  Never had any man seen her this way, in the very state God and nature had created her. Rarely had she seen her own self, dashing quickly between changes as the bathwater cooled and she slipped into fresh attire. Did he like what he was seeing now? Was he pleased with all she had to offer him? It was everything she could do not to beg him to speak.

  Finally he did. “Good God, Penelope. You’re beautiful.”

  Ah, that was a most excellent reply. The fact that the truth of it was evident in his expression made her go warm all over. She didn’t have to move back to him because in an instant he had reached for her and pulled her into another embrace. She soaked up his warmth.

  “I want you so badly,” he murmured.

  The truth of that was evident as well, although not so much in his face as in his trousers. She tried to slide her hands to his waist again, working at the fastenings. He was kissing her neck and then her earlobe, which seemed to do something to affect her balance. The fastenings were not unfastening. The sensations of his kisses and his skin pressed against hers were nearly too much to bear.

  She wobbled a bit. His eyes met hers and she saw the question in them. She knew what he asked.

  “Yes,” was all she managed to say.

  He didn’t wait for more. In an instant, he scooped her into his arms and was kissing her lips. Something brushed against her arm and she realized in her wobbling state she had leaned a bit too far in one direction and thrown him off-balance. They listed into a rack of clothing. It tumbled to the floor, spreading an assortment of dresses, coats, wrappers, and other soft sundries into a careless pile.

  She glanced down at the pile, then back up at Lord Harry. He was holding her tightly and let out his breath in a ragged sigh.

  “Are you certain this is what you want?”

  “I am,” she assured him, knowing exactly what he meant.

  Carefully, he stooped to lower her into the scattered pile. It was remarkably comfortable. Probably, she decided, that was because Lord Harry was there with her. She pulled his face toward hers for another kiss. Or two.

  She was touching him all over, running her hands over his muscular back, the sturdy form of his arms, across his very firm backside. Ah, but she did like that part of him. How much nicer, though, if she could finally get rid of those trousers. She went back to work on the fastenings.

  He chuckled at her fumbling, then finally took pity and helped her. As he moved slightly away to lean on one elbow beside her, the placket finally fell open. She was presented with the vision of a lifetime.

  “Oh! My!”

  He was going to speak, but she decided she did not really wish for conversation just now. She pressed her fingertips to his lips and went on with her investigation of the magnificent object below. My my my my my.

  He seemed content to allow her perusal. Would he permit her to do more? She dared to find out. Carefully, not wishing to cause any discomfort, she reached out and touched him. There.

  He drew a sharp breath the moment she made contact. She pulled her hand back and glanced up at his face. He was smirking.

  “Frightened?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  At that he laughed. “I assure you, that is not very likely.”

  “Are you certain? It seems rather…sensitive.”

  “Oh, it is. Just as I know for a fact you yourself have one or two very sensitive areas.”

  She was blushing again, wasn’t she? To make matters worse, he was just now touching her in one of her very sensitive areas. His hand slid along her thigh and came closer, closer to that part of her he’d been introduced to at the ball. Oh, but she did hope they furthered their acquaintance!

  Trying to ignore the dizzying waves of pleasure his touch brought her, she reached to touch him in a similar manner. As his fingers danced around her delicate cleft, hers glided over the velvet softness of his rock-hard member. Did this cause the same wonderful sensations for him that it did for her? Oh, but she hoped so.

  Still not certain just what she was allowed, she let her fingers circle him. Goodness, but the girth of the thing was remarkable. At least, she assumed that it was. The man seemed so extraordinary in every other way, she could only expect that this was no different. She realized his breathing altered a bit as she stroked him up and down.

  “This is good?” she asked.

  He had to swallow before answering. “Yes. This is good.”

  Well then, it seemed she had puzzled out what to do already. She tightened her grip on him ever so slightly and increased the speed of her gentle stroking. He seemed pleased, but then he did a similar thing to her—increasing the fervor of his attentions—and she found it suddenly difficult to concentrate.

  The same overwhelming feelings that had nearly sent her out of her own body when he was doing these things to her at Lady Burlington’s ball began to swirl and gather inside her core. She felt her body becoming not her own, but a separate entity that responded purely on instinct, rocking against him, pressing into his hand as it explored her and caressed her most intimate area.

  She tightened her grip on him, hoping this would anchor her, but somehow that seemed to only make the sensations within her grow stronger. It was building rapidly, her breathing coming now in short gasps and muffled moans. It was terrifying and heavenly all at the same time.

  Just as she was about to cry out, overcome by it all, he stopped. He moved away from her, putting his hand over hers where she still held him in a fist. She blinked, suddenly worried she’d hurt him after all.

  “Wait,” he said. “I cannot take it if you keep doing that, and I insist that you at least let me be a gentleman in this one area, my dear.”

  “What?” He was not making sense and she was desperate for him to get back to what he’d been doing.

  “Ladies first,” he said.

  That didn’t make any sense, either, but then it hardly mattered as he shifted position, kissing her between the breasts, across the belly, around her naval, and at last dropping a long, heated kiss onto her aching, desperate need. She fell back into the clothing around her and tried to gulp back another moan.

  Heavens! He was kissing her there, and then some. He was not only kissing, but exploring, nibbling, and suckling. His tongue was tasting her, invading her. She could barely breathe from the sensations this new method produced. Oh, but the man was ingenious!

  Again, she was rocking with him, letting him do as he pleased and discovering that with every move he made, every subtle touch, she was falling deeper into his trance. It was as if the room around them whirled with color and the blood pounded inside her head. He was carrying her to a place she’d never been, could have never even imagined. She dug her fingers into his arms, his back, his shoulders. Any part of him she could grasp, frantic for salvation.

  Just when she felt as if she could take no more, her body rocked with the ecstasy his actions had brought. Far more intense than anything she’d experienced before, she fell into his care and let the waves wash over her. Nothing around her existed, only his body and hers.

  Just as she was beginning to think perhaps she would not die from pleasure, he was shifting again. This time, he was over her, his eyes meeting hers. He was questioning her again.

  Since she knew she’d never be able to speak coherently, all she could do was smile and wrap her arms around him, bringing him closer. He understood. Whatever he was willing to take from her tonight, she was willing to give. />
  His kisses were warm and sweet over her lips, her throat, her shoulders. She held him, her nipples tingling from the brush of his skin. She felt him, his most fascinating part, pressing against her. His movement caused another wave of wonderful sensation, then suddenly he was entering her.

  It was a bit shocking at first, not quite what she’d been feeling thus far, but certainly not painful. He pressed into her, filling her and causing a moment’s panic as she instantly worried that she’d made the wrong choice here. What was she doing? How could she actually accommodate such a…well, he’d seemed fairly large and she doubted she was…

  Oh! Indeed, she could accommodate! Very well, apparently. Good heavens, but he was completely inside and her body was involuntarily clenching around him, enjoying the feel of this new experience. The raging ocean that had begun to calm inside her roared to storming tumult again and she was once more feeling a bit wobbly.

  “Penelope…” he said, breathing her name into her ear.

  “It’s wonderful!” she said, arching her body toward his.

  The movement seemed to encourage him. Slowly he shifted and for a heartbeat it seemed as if he would leave her body too soon, but then he was thrusting, entering her again, even more fully than before. She moaned in response. How could he possibly be bringing her to yet a higher plane of such indefinable pleasure?

  He was, though. It seemed as if he were as lost as she was in this new world of wonderful. His motions increased in power, in urgency as he thrust again and again, his body nearly crushing her and the waves of pleasure rocking her again and again. She drew whatever breath she could, and cried out when the delight of it all became too much. His own passion seemed to be growing, too, and just as she was swept away by completion, she felt him reaching his own.

  Her body welcomed his climax, and she clung tightly as they both spiraled back to reality. It was not a rapid descent. When he finally moved to the side, freeing her to fill her lungs at last, she realized he glistened from perspiration. Indeed, she was burning with heat herself, even in the cold night air.

  It had been wonderful. Unimaginable. Everything she could have wished for. She snuggled against him and allowed herself to simply breathe, to feel the various muscles in her body tingle and settle into this new state of being. Indeed, everything about her seemed to have been changed.

  Did he know? Was he possibly aware of all this had meant to her? She doubted it. She hoped not. It had been selfish on her part to demand this from him when, truly, there were so many other things he needed to deal with. But she would never regret her demands.

  He would leave her soon, but she would always have this night.

  “You must be cold,” he said after some minutes of holding her closely in the darkness and silence.

  “You’ve kept me quite warm,” she replied, carefully keeping any awkward sentiment from showing in her voice.

  “Are you…well?”

  “Yes, thank you. That was very nicely done.”

  “Er, I’m happy to hear it. You don’t feel any…that is…”

  “I feel fine, thank you. You have no need to worry that I am in any way disappointed.”

  “Indeed, I’m relieved to hear it, but—”

  “Was it adequate for you?”

  “Adequate?”

  She thought he might actually be about to laugh at her, but she didn’t look up into his face to find out. Better that she didn’t see if he felt he might need to lie and tell her it was more enjoyable for him than it truly was. After all, he was an expert at this. No doubt her efforts had been somewhat rudimentary as far as his own pleasure was concerned. She had no wish to hear him confess it, though.

  “Did you enjoy yourself, sir?”

  “Hell, Penelope, you were amazing.”

  Well, if the man were lying, he did it well. She was pleased with his estimation and decided not to consider the likelihood of him simply being polite. She wanted so badly to believe she’d been amazing for him.

  “And of course I understand the responsibility that accompanies such actions and I want you to rest assured that—”

  She stopped him. “No, there is no need for that. I was quite aware of what I was doing, and I thank you. Please don’t spoil it now by pretending it was anything more than it was.”

  She was quite proud of herself. Her voice sounded perfectly sensible and relaxed, as if she did this sort of thing with gentlemen all the time and never gave it another thought. She forced a smile and settled into a comfortable snuggle again.

  Indeed, he claimed she had been amazing and that was all there was to this. They both enjoyed the encounter and soon it would be ended. She would let him go and simply be grateful for the memories she would carry forever.

  She refused to waste her final moments with him in silly, obligatory rhetoric. She did not need him to take any responsibility for anything. That would be supremely unfair of her, given the circumstances. As much as she ached to hear him lie and tell her he cared or had any hope of a future with her, she could not allow him to be so noble.

  He would only come to resent her for it, and she would hate herself for that.

  Chapter Twenty

  He hated himself. What sort of man would take advantage of a woman this way? Especially a woman he fancied himself in love with. By God, how had he let it come to this? He truly was in love with her and this is how he’d treated her. Indeed, what sort of man did that? The very worst sort of man, and that was what he was.

  How could he have done this, taken her here, in this anonymous little shop like some cheap whore? She should have had a wedding night with satin pillows and scented rose water. What had he given her? Memories of a frenzied coupling on a pile of old clothes. That was no way to start out their life together—if in fact he could hold any hope they might indeed have a life together.

  Of course he couldn’t. He’d caught her in a moment of weakness here; he’d never get her to agree to marriage in the clear light of day and the security of her home. Once she was safe and back where she belonged, she’d realize how he’d pounced on her in a vulnerable moment and she’d have nothing but regret for what passed between them here tonight. It was inevitable. She’d despise him.

  How could she not? She was an intelligent woman, after all. She knew he had nothing to recommend him; no money, no future, no honorable family, no good name…Indeed, he was the very last man a woman like Penelope Rastmoor deserved. Come morning, she would certainly realize this.

  What a fool he was. If he tried to tell her how he felt, she would laugh in his face. This was not love. To call it that was an insult. But, by God, he had no idea what else to call it. Certainly lust could never rip his heart out and shred it this way.

  Perhaps it was insanity. Indeed, that seemed likely. Only an insane person would lie here with a woman he’d so greatly wronged snuggled tightly against him while his own father was nearby in grave danger. He must be insane to be wishing for wedding bells when he knew full well his own uncle was planning his funeral. As was Burlington. And now, after this, Rastmoor would, too.

  Bloody hell. Why did insanity have to feel so damn good?

  Penelope snuggled in closer, nuzzling and kissing his neck. He closed his eyes to commit the feeling to memory. One that would have to get him through whatever life he had left, he supposed.

  “Perhaps we should be on our way,” she whispered.

  He didn’t comprehend her words at first. “What?”

  “To find your father,” she said.

  Damn. The spell was broken. Already reality was seeping in, and any moment now she’d realize what he’d done and how much she hated him.

  He’d best cut his losses and get moving. At least he could still save his father, even if his own life was in tatters. Oldham had hinted that their Egyptian friends might not have completely given up on them. Perhaps at least one of them still had something worth living for.

  “Come then,” he said, stirring and pulling his arm out from under h
er head. “The city will be waking soon. We should hurry.”

  He could not decide what her mood was now. She simply nodded and went about re-dressing herself. Was she hurt by his abruptness? Pleased that soon she’d be rid of him forever? Had she simply used him to soothe her nerves after a harrowing ordeal? Damn, but he hoped it was more than that.

  She retrieved her shift and pulled on the stolen muslin, tugging at it where it clung to her delicious form and smoothing out the wrinkles. Even in someone else’s dress with her hair disheveled she looked like a goddess. He’d give anything for the freedom to worship at her altar for the rest of his life. Or at least for the rest of this night.

  But he had no such freedom, and no such right. All he could do was get her home safely, then bid farewell. That would be the best thing for her.

  “Where do you suppose your uncle was taking Professor Oldham?” she asked as she tidied her hair, calm and collected as if she’d merely stepped in from the wind rather than been ravished by a scoundrel.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, moving nearer and helping to do up the back of her gown.

  “Lord Burlington’s, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Is that where we’ll go, then?”

  “No, first we’ll take you home.”

  “There’s no time for that! I can help you.”

  Hell. She was going to be difficult about this, wasn’t she? He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. It was a risky maneuver, considering how easy it would be to kiss her this way.

  “No, you can’t, Penelope,” he said, and would have continued except that she interrupted.

  “So you’re going to charge in there all alone? And not expect to get yourself killed?”

  He hoped this meant she was concerned for his well-being. More likely, though, she was questioning his effectiveness. Not that he could blame her; he was questioning it, himself.

  “Hopefully I won’t be alone,” he replied.

  “Because you’ll have me with you.”

  “No, because my father told me where to go to find help. Armed, masculine help.”