by Tracy Fobes
“My lady, I was wondering what had happened to you,” the housekeeper exclaimed. “The duke went to bed several minutes ago and said you were right behind him. Well, no matter. What did you think of Inveraray’s high society?”
Muttering something unintelligible, Sarah presented her back to Mrs. Fitzbottom for unbuttoning.
“Quite a crowd, aren’t they? The Misses Rumble had to be the oldest guests, and they hail from a very good family . . .”
While undressing her, the housekeeper chatted on about the histories of various guests who’d attended. Sarah watched in the looking glass as the clothes fell from her body. Critically she examined her reflection for signs of freckles and patches of sun-darkened skin, things that Mrs. Fitzbottom had once declared undesirable in a lady. Would Colin find her attractive? Suddenly she couldn’t imagine him seeing her naked. She couldn’t imagine any man seeing her naked.
Dressed only in her shift, she sat on her bed, her feet dangling to the floor. Mrs. Fitzbottom shuffled through her wardrobe and brought out one of her old nightgowns from her Beannach days. When the modiste had suggested sewing her new nightwear, Sarah had firmly refused, preferring to sleep in soothing clothes that reminded her of home.
Now she regretted the decision. She didn’t want to appear frumpy tonight, of all nights. Frowning, she examined Mrs. Fitzbottom’s choice this evening, a flannel plaid nightgown with a high neck.
“Is something wrong, lass?” the housekeeper questioned.
“I wish I had something prettier to wear,” she admitted. “I should have allowed that modiste to sew me some new nightgowns.”
The older woman patted her hand. “I know those old nightgowns were your last hold on your old life, and I’m glad to see you want to relinquish them. Why don’t I go and ruffle through the duchess’s wardrobe? She had some very pretty things.”
“Do you think the duke would mind?”
“Heavens no. He’s forgotten they exist. I’ll be back in a moment, dear,” she pledged, and left the room on swift feet. True to her word, within minutes she had returned, a filmy black creation over her arm. She frowned as she laid it out on the bed. “I’m afraid moths have gotten into most of her nightgowns. This is the only one I could find fit for wearing. It’s not really suitable for an unmarried lady, though.”
Sarah allowed the flimsy gown to slide through her hands. A single ribbon, tied at the neck, held the gown in place. She trembled at the thought of Colin untying it. “I suppose I’ll have to wear one of my old nightgowns. Leave this one here, though. I’ll put it in my wardrobe to keep it safe until I’ve married.”
“I’d hate to see it ruined,” Mrs. Fitzbottom agreed. “It’s very pretty.”
Feigning several yawns, Sarah rushed the housekeeper along, agreeing to a quick bath but drawing the line when the older woman suggested Sarah coat her hands with salve and wear gloves to bed that evening, to soften her skin. As soon as she managed to hustle Mrs. Fitzbottom out the door, she raced to her wardrobe and pulled out the forbidden nightgown.
She dragged her old flannel one over her head and then replaced it with the black gown, its soft, tullelike fabric settling down over her skin with a whisper, the sensation like a soft caress as it molded itself around her breasts. Her nipples hardened and, shocked at its sensuous feel, she walked to the looking glass and stared at herself.
A different woman stared back, a seductive woman whose soft lips pouted and breasts heaved with excitement, their pink nipples barely hidden beneath a gauze of black. A dark V between her thighs marked the place that ached the most for Colin. Her arms glowed whitely through its folds, she saw, and it flared out in a pretty train behind her as she walked. Her fingers shaking, she tied the ribbon at her neck into a neat bow, then returned to her bed and sat nervously, waiting.
When she saw the doorknob turn, her heart jumped into her throat and she nearly bolted from her bedchamber. But then he was inside, dressed casually in a smoking jacket and trousers, his hair damp and curling at the ends, and she knew she could no sooner leave than she could tell him to go.
His lower lip protruding sensually, he studied her boldly, from head to toe. A flame of possessive desire flickered in his eyes. Otherwise, his face remained dark and unrevealing as he held out his hand to her.
She stood and walked to his side, so conscious of him that everything else in the room faded from sight. A finger of anticipation slid down along her spine to settle deep within the part of her that begged the most for his touch. Moisture slicked her thighs and her breasts ached and she almost moaned as their fingers touched, then intertwined.
“My pretty little kitten,” he murmured, drawing her closer through their intertwined fingers. “You have no idea how often I’ve dreamed of this moment.”
Throat tight, unable to speak, she gazed at him beseechingly.
Lazily he brushed his free hand across the tips of her breasts, which jutted through the gauze, as if pleading for his caress. “I’m going to touch you — everywhere — and you’ll learn to touch me likewise.”
Still, he held her only through their intertwined fingers. Desire for him to do more was nearly driving her wild. She lifted her hand and ran her fingers along the side of his jaw, then traced his mouth, her touch as light as a butterfly’s wings. “Is it always like this?”
He laughed deep in his throat and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him and crushing her against his muscular length.
She felt the hot hardness of him pressing against her midsection, and her gaze flew to his loins, wondering what his trousers hid. Then he was kissing her, his lips spreading hers relentlessly, demand-ingly, until she relaxed against him and allowed him free rein. His tongue slipped into her mouth and explored at will, then began teasing hers, the sensation exquisite and unlike any other in the world.
Her total and complete surrender and her lawless desire for him startled her. All of her inhibitions were disappearing. In another moment, he could do anything with her and she wouldn’t even know how to voice an objection, let alone want to. Fear suddenly coursed through her. She couldn’t stop herself from stiffening.
He raised his head and studied her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Easy, Sarah. I’ll try to be gentle. Don’t fight the pleasure. Let it overtake you.”
Firmly he held her close and did nothing more than run his hands over her body for the next several seconds, cupping her buttocks and smoothing his palms over her arms and skimming across her breasts. Sarah relaxed bit by bit against him, but it wasn’t until a tiny moan emerged from her that he tipped her head back with one finger and kissed her again.
His kiss was gentle, questing. She could feel him holding back. And yet, she didn’t want him to rein himself in; no, she longed to feel the full force of his desire. Sionnach had told her that a fox was both counsel and cunning, and would be less of a fox without both. Likewise, Colin was a creature of passion, of sensuality, and she wanted to experience him at his most primal, complete level.
Trembling at her own boldness, she found his waistband and slipped her fingers inside, downward, until she touched the core of him, the hard, thrusting erection that would show her what it meant to be a woman, to be possessed.
He grew still.
Her heart pounding wildly, she wrapped her small palm around him and explored his silken length and warm tip. A hungry, throbbing pain built deep between her thighs.
Passion hardened his kiss. His touch became more insistent, more demanding. Involuntarily she moved her hips against him. Groaning low in his throat, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to her bed, untying the nightgown’s ribbon as he did so. The fabric fell away from her in a flowing black wave, and then he deposited her gently against the mattress. He sat back to study every inch of her, his face tight.
Sarah swallowed. Several candles burned, throwing enough light into the bedchamber to reveal her nakedness to him, and abruptly she became conscious that no man had ever seen her naked before. Embarrassed,
she managed to shield both her breasts and the curls between her thighs with her arms and hands.
He took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, and let them both drop to the floor. His trousers joined them an instant later. “Are you shy? You shouldn’t be. You have a gorgeous body.”
She sucked in a breath at the sight of his naked form. A soft mat of hair covered his chest and tapered off below his stomach, then grew thick again lower, between his legs. Heat filled her cheeks as she stared at the part of him that she had only imagined previously.
Apparently at ease with his own nakedness, he walked slowly to the bed and sat down next to her. Gently he pushed her arms and hands aside and leaned down to enclose one nipple with his lips, while his fingers gently explored her silken triangle, slipping past the outer folds to caress some secret, hidden part of her.
Unprepared for the sheer delight that tore through her, she arched her hips against his fingers, even though she wasn’t quite sure what that would accomplish. She only knew that deep inside, she ached with emptiness, and instinct told her he could ease that emptiness if he wished.
At her untutored response, his face hardened with an urgent look. Slowly he slipped a fingertip inside her, making her cry out at the strange and exquisite sensation. She began to writhe against him, the emptiness inside her somehow only worsened by this intimate exploration. Meanwhile, he kissed her body wherever he pleased, nuzzling her neck and swooping down against her mouth, then traveling back to her nipples to tease them gently.
She moaned and frantically explored the muscles that defined his back.
“Touch me,” he encouraged in a thick voice. “Feel it.”
Eyes closed, she lifted her face to his and opened her lips beneath another demanding kiss; at the same time, she curled her palm around his hard length and pulled, gently.
His low groan of pleasure was nearly her undoing. His kisses became more urgent, hungrier, moving from her lips, to her neck, then down to her breasts, leaving a hot, wet trail that made her tremble with increasing need.
When his mouth trailed to her stomach and lower, however, she stiffened, shocked, and pushed at his shoulders. “No, don’t, not there . . .”
He sighed raggedly. “I keep forgetting you’re a virgin. We’ll save that for another night.”
Not allowing the tension in her to ease, he began exploring the dark curls between her thighs with his fingers again, caressing and rubbing in a lazy circular motion until her insides seemed to swell and she thought she might die from it.
“Colin, please,” she gasped, shuddering.
Something in her tone must have communicated itself to him, for suddenly he was on top of her and poised between her thighs.
“Wrap your legs around my waist, kitten,” he murmured against her ear, all the while licking it gently and making her shiver. “And stay very still.”
Her body shaking and jerking with the need for release, she held him tightly around the waist with her legs. The hot, moist tip of him pressed down where before his fingers had explored. The pressure wasn’t unpleasant; no, she welcomed it, for it partially eased the emptiness that had grown nearly unbearable.
He bent his head to hers. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he murmured against her mouth, then ground his lips hungrily against hers, robbing her of her breath. Seconds later, he thrust forward, hard, and pierced her deep inside.
Unprepared for the agony, she screamed and pushed away from him. His mouth captured her cry and muted it. Stunned, her most tender parts coursing with pain, she became absolutely still and stared at him with tear-filled eyes. She felt as though he’d just thrust a knife inside her and turned it.
“You said you would never hurt me,” she choked, when finally he released her lips.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, then kissed her more gently. Ever so slightly he moved within her.
Panicked, she pulled her mouth away from his. That swollen feeling, the sensation that intense pleasure would soon be hers, had dissipated almost entirely. She could only imagine what fresh pain awaited her. “Don’t move, Colin. Please don’t move.”
“Shh, kitten, it’s over now. The pain will ease.”
Despite his words, he did remain motionless, shifting his big body to create a tiny space between them. He propped himself up on one elbow, his blue eyes glinting in the candlelight, and slipped his hand between their bodies. His lower lip full and sensual, he began to caress her between her thighs again, touching with unerring precision that small nub of flesh at the core of her pleasure.
Frightened, she resisted the delight his practiced fingers aroused, preferring to stay still rather than move and risk more agony. He didn’t ask anything from her; instead, he kissed her leisurely. As the seconds lengthened into minutes, his slow and easy pace calmed her fear even as insidious waves of delight washed through her, helping her forget the pain.
“Relax, my little love,” he encouraged.
Swallowing, she could feel her guard dropping inch by inch, caress by caress. Again, that swelling of pleasure grew between her legs and soon it became too potent to deny. Stunned at how quickly he’d secured her abandonment after hurting her so badly, she twisted beneath him, wanting him to caress her faster and harder.
His gaze searching, he brushed her hair back from her forehead and stared deep into her eyes. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Colin, please . . .” she begged.
He laughed low and thrust deep within her, then retreated and thrust again. This time, there was no pain, and the sensation of him inside her was such a blessed relief after the emptiness that she wrapped her legs around his waist and held him tightly, determined to keep him there forever.
Slowly he moved in and out of her, his pace increasing as he swept her along to some unknown height of pleasure. The sensations he’d aroused within her had heightened and combined to form one hard, unbearable ache between her thighs. In a frenzy, she ran her palms up and down his back, clutching his muscles, digging her nails into his skin, and meeting each thrust of his hips with her own.
Just when she thought she could cry from the pleasure he gave her, her body tightened and the swelling inside her burst, then washed her along in a wave of ecstasy that shocked her with its intensity. Whimpering, she clutched him to her tightly and felt his thrusts grow quicker until he, too, shuddered and jerked against her.
The pleasure took several seconds to ebb away and left her feeling like a wrung-out dishrag, her emotions in complete disarray. An inexplicable urge to cry sneaked up on her, and suddenly, she discovered tears running down her cheeks. She choked back a sob and buried her nose in the hair covering his chest.
“There, don’t cry,” he murmured, his voice holding not the least bit of surprise. “The first time is always difficult.”
Sniffling, she snuggled against his chest. “I don’t know if I should slap you or kiss you.”
“I’d prefer the kiss,” he replied, stroking her hair, his voice so tender that fresh tears sprang to her eyes.
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I told you it would hurt.”
“You didn’t mention it would feel like someone sticking a knife into my vitals.”
A smile crossed his lips. “If I had, would you have made love to me?”
“No,” she admitted, her tears drying up. She wiped at her eyes. “Probably not.”
He traced a teasing circle around her breasts, then allowed his fingers to drift lower, to her silken triangle, where lazily he stroked her. “What you experienced today is only the very least of the pleasure a man and woman can bring each other. There are so many other things we can do, so many different ways to make love.”
Remembering the way his lips had nearly traveled to the curls between her thighs, she trembled. “Will you teach me these things?”
“I want to. God knows I want to.”
She waited for him to say more, but he grew quiet. His refusal to speculate on what their future could hold nagged a
t her. “I know our respective positions in society will ultimately keep us apart,” she ventured after a time.
His arms tightened around her, but otherwise, he remained silent.
She trailed a finger across the curls masking his chest. “I know our intimacy hasn’t magically erased the difficulties between us, but after making love to you, I can’t imagine us being apart.”
“Neither can I. Christ Almighty, what a coil we’re in.”
“What are we going to do?”
“For now, we’re going to finish preparing you for that debut ball of yours,” he told her, his voice raw.
“And afterward?”
“Afterward, you’re going to marry me,” he told her with a deep sigh.
The matter-of-fact nature of his statement squashed any excitement it might have aroused in her. He made marrying her sound like a distasteful task. She narrowed her eyes. “We’re not marrying, Colin.”
“Oh yes, we are. I’ve taken your honor, and now I must restore it.”
“I don’t want you to sacrifice yourself to me.”
He sat up on one elbow. “I may be a wretch, but at least I have my honor. We will marry.”
She, too, pushed up on an elbow. “I absolutely refuse. Our marriage could never be a happy one. If we defy the duke and earn his enmity, we’ll be shunned by society. Besides, you don’t love me.”
A queer look crossed his face. He stared at her for several seconds, mouth twisting as if he’d felt a pain, his eyes glittering with some emotion she couldn’t identify.
“Colin?”
Finally a groan broke from him. “I don’t understand women. Not at all. They never seem to want what you expect. Always I’m sadly mistaken.”
She frowned, thinking again of Sionnach’s words: The fox is both cunning and counsel, and cannot exist otherwise.
“I won’t marry you, Colin,” she repeated. “You were born into the aristocracy and raised by society. You could give it up, yes, and live quietly at Inveraray with me. But would either of us ever be happy?”
“We could be happy,” he insisted.
