He shook his head. “No,” he said. “I can recognize a passionate virgin when I see one, Aurora.”
Instantly she was enraged. How dare he insult her in such a fashion. Pulling away from St. John, she slapped him. “Cad!”
“Bitch!” he replied, yanking her roughly back into his arms. Then he kissed her, pinioning her arms back behind her so that her struggles were virtually useless.
Her first kiss. And she would remember it the rest of her life. It was not the soft and gentle thing she had always imagined. It was hard, and fierce, and demanding. For a moment she reveled in its savagery. Then she kicked him as hard as she could.
“Ouch!” he yelped, but he did not let her go. Instead, he kicked her feet out from beneath her so that they fell to the grassy path below. Restraining her, he grinned into her face. “You really are a vixen, Aurora.” He bent to kiss her again, but she turned her head away from him angrily.
“Let me go,” she snarled. “Let me up this instant, St. John, or I shall scream so loud, they will think there is a murder being committed!”
He forced her head back to his and found her mouth again. This time, however, his kiss was deep and intoxicatingly sweet. He knew she wanted to resist him, but she would not be able to avoid her own fiery nature. She was a virgin. A most curious virgin with an ardent bent. He gave her just enough room to breathe before pressing his lips back down upon hers, working against the pink flesh until it began to soften beneath his. A tiny sound of pleasure caught his ear. Her body moved slightly against his. He ran his tongue along her lips, pushing between the twin delights and into the warm, moist grotto of her mouth, finding her tongue and stroking it hungrily with his own.
She was going to explode with the longing now sweeping over her body, Aurora thought muzzily. How could the conjunction of two mouths engender such incredible pleasure? Why had she avoided kissing until now? And why hadn’t Cally told her how wonderful it was? Surely her sister could not object to this. It was pure heaven! Daringly, she entwined her tongue with his in some primitive mating, and to her surprise he shuddered almost violently, then pulled away from her, gasping for air with a groan. “More!” she commanded him.
He brushed his mouth over her teasingly, next kissing her eyelids. Turning her head aside with his palm, he nibbled a ribbon of kisses down the side of her face and neck. She felt the heat of him in the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. She arched her head and throat to give him greater access to her perfumed flesh. “Wonderful! Wonderful!” she murmured breathlessly as he moved to her chest and the swell of her small breasts. His hand slipped beneath her back to fumble with the laces of her gown, which he quickly undid in a most expert fashion. She was wearing no corset.
He repositioned them so he might draw her into his arms as they lay upon the grass. His hand pulled gently at her loosened bodice, and her breasts almost fell out of her chemise. For a moment he gazed in rapt awe at the two lovely orbs, and then he kissed the plump flesh passionately, his hand unable to keep from fondling her. “God, you are so lovely,” he groaned.
Mesmerized, she watched him as he caressed her, cupping a breast in the warm hollow of the palm of his hand, squeezing it tenderly, leaning over to kiss a nipple. She struggled to keep herself from crying out, but a small “Oh” escaped from between her lips. Somehow she knew that he should not be being quite so intimate with her, and she felt bound to protest. “St. John,” she gasped, “I don’t think you should be doing this. Oh! Oh! Ohhhh, St. John, do cease this torture!” His mouth had closed over the nipple, and was now drawing upon it. She was afire, and that place between her thighs was beginning to tingle. “St. John, in God’s name, stop! It’s marvelous, but I don’t want to lose my virginity in the Hawkesworths’ garden! Stop!” She struggled to break away from his embrace.
With a genuinely constrained groan and a deep sigh he released her. “Damnation, wench, you are too exciting for a mere mortal! I ache to possess you, Aurora. Say you will marry me!”
“I will consider it, St. John,” she told him softly, for the first time seriously contemplating marriage to him. If this love play were a sample of the delights marriage had to offer, then perhaps she should take him up on his proposal. He did have the right qualifications for a husband. She enjoyed his company, and if he could stir up her passions so quickly, then obviously she must be falling in love with him. After all, what was love anyway? Certainly no one had ever given her a rational explanation of the emotion. She seemed to be on her own.
He groaned again, rolling on his back. There was a genuinely pained look upon his face.
“Do you hurt?” she asked him innocently.
“Yes,” he told her.
“Where?” she queried him. “Will it help if I rub it? I rub Cally’s shoulders and feet when they ache.”
A wicked grin creased St. John’s face. “I’m not certain you would want to rub my injured part, Aurora, should you see the state it’s in; nor am I certain you should unless we are betrothed.”
“Oh, St. John, don’t be such a fool!” she scolded him. “Show me what hurts this instant, and I will make it better.”
In response, his fingers fumbled with the buttons on his pantaloons, opening them to release his male member. “Ahhhh!” he exhaled as it burst forth from its painful confinement.
Amazed, Aurora stared, her gaze transfixed upon the thick, long peg of flesh that thrust up from the opening in his garment. She remembered seeing George’s member when they were children swimming naked in the sea. It had looked nothing like this intimidating object. Fearless, however, she reached out to touch it, but he caught her wrist and held it.
“No,” St. John told her. “If you touch me, I’ll lose all control, Aurora. Turn about and avert your eyes while I lace you up. I was too constricted, which caused my discomfort. I will be all right now as long as you don’t touch me. When we are married I will be delighted if you choose to caress my fine fellow, but not at this moment.”
It wasn’t easy, but she tore her stare away from him, pulling herself about so that her back faced him. She sat silently as he skillfully laced up her bodice. A thousand questions filled her mind. “Is it normal?” she finally said, breaking the stillness between them.
“In size?” he returned.
She nodded.
“I think so. Hawkesworth’s is a wee bit bigger than mine, I believe, but it’s how a man wields his member that’s more important.” He slipped his arms about her and kissed the nape of her neck.
“Will it hurt me?” Aurora couldn’t help but lean her head back against his shoulder. I think I will marry him, she thought, but I do not think I shall tell him now. Not quite yet.
“When I relieve you of your virginity, you will feel it,” he told her. “For some girls it’s a sharp, brief flash of pain. For others no more than a sting of discomfort. It really depends how tightly your maidenhead is lodged, and how thick it is.”
“You have obviously done this before,” she remarked dryly.
“Yes,” he told her, “I have, but never with a wife, Aurora.”
“I have not said I would marry you, St. John.” She removed his embracing arms and struggled to her feet, brushing her gown off as she did so, and patting her hair back into some semblance of order.
Standing, he took her by the shoulders and turned her about, tilting her face up to his. “You will marry me, Aurora,” he told her with a small smile. “You cannot resist the magic I arouse in your tempting little body, can you?”
“Cad!” she smacked at him, but only half seriously.
“Bitch!” he retorted, giving her a quick kiss.
Then they both laughed.
“Button yourself, St. John, or the entire household will know what we have been about, I fear,” she told him sternly.
“They will suspect it anyway,” he chuckled, buttoning himself.
“You may escort me back into the house,” she said loftily. “Then you must go home, St. John. Your mother is surely wond
ering what has happened to you. I’m certain she does not know what a devil you are.”
“Alas,” he said as they walked back through the gardens to the house, “I fear she does, my dear. May I come tomorrow and bring you home for tea so she may meet her future daughter-in-law?”
“St. John!” Aurora was exasperated. “I have not said yes yet. You must not presume until I do.”
“Patience is not a virtue with me, Aurora,” he said.
“Virtue is not a virtue with you,” she riposted.
He burst out laughing, admitting, “True. True.”
Entering the house, Aurora saw a light coming from beneath the library door. “Good night, St. John,” she told him.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her slowly, smiling down into her eyes, nibbling tenderly upon her lower lip. “Good night, Aurora, my darling. How I long for the night when I shall not have to let you go to a lonely bed.” Then he whispered softly in her ear, “I shall insist we sleep naked, and I shall caress and kiss every inch of your lovely body until you beg me to take you. And I will!” His hands were fastened about her small waist, and he held her so that her breasts just touched his chest. “I am going to tease and taunt you until the day that you marry me, darling. I know that that little secret place of yours is even now throbbing and wet, isn’t it?”
Surprised, she nodded. “I think you are very wicked, St. John,” she murmured low. “If you tease me, I shall tease you, and that fine fellow, as you call your member, will ache with longing for me even as it now does, doesn’t it?” She daringly ran her tongue along his lips.
The library door opened, and the duke spoke sharply. “Go to your room, Aurora. St. John, go home. I’ll have no scandal in my house.”
With a chuckle Justin St. John kissed the tip of Aurora’s nose, and releasing his hold on her, bowed mockingly at his cousin as he departed.
Valerian Hawkesworth had an angry look about him. “You will remember, miss, that I am your guardian while you are here in England. You will not play the strumpet again, or I will have you confined to your room on a diet of bread and water. Do you understand, Aurora?”
“I understand that you are arrogant, my lord, even as I have always believed you to be. You may force my sister to your will, but you will never force me. I shall probably marry St. John, although I have not yet decided to do so, and if you believe that I would compromise my own good name, you are sadly mistaken. I bid you good night.” She ran up the staircase and hurried to the dowager’s room, knocking politely.
“Yes, miss?” The dowager’s Jane answered the door.
“If her ladyship is still awake, I should like to speak with her,” Aurora said politely.
“Come in, miss, she’s been waiting,” Jane replied. She was a tiny woman with a cheery smile who always wore a neatly starched mobcap over her gray curls, and was utterly devoted to her mistress.
Mary Rose Hawkesworth was already settled in her bed, her nightcap with its blue silk ribbons tied beneath her chin. “Well?” she demanded. “Did he propose, and did you accept him, Aurora?”
“It was the seventh time he has proposed,” she said with a small laugh. “I have always refused him.”
“He has proposed to you seven times, and you refused him?” The dowager was astounded. “Gracious, child, what can you be thinking?”
“I did not refuse tonight, but neither did I accept, although I am of a mind to accept, ma’am,” Aurora told her sponsor.
“Why now?” The dowager was curious. Aurora, she was discovering, could be a most unpredictable young girl. Stubborn, Martha had said.
“He kissed me,” Aurora replied. “I liked it. I liked it very much, ma’am. He has been so proper and so polite until tonight. He was rather masterful this evening. I found it intriguing, and quite delicious. He is not the fop I thought him to be, and now perhaps I shall accept his offer because I believe he will be a most interesting man to have for a husband. I might even be falling in love with him.”
“Ahhhh,” the dowager said, nodding with approval, her eye meeting that of her servant. “You will not get a better offer, my child. St. John is well off without your dowry, and so he has no ulterior motive involved in asking for your hand. He has not sought to marry before now, although heaven knows there have been several most suitable young women he might have had. I suspect he has fallen in love with you.”
“He has asked me to tea tomorrow to meet his mama,” Aurora told the dowager.
“Excellent!” came the enthusiastic reply. “I shall, of course, accompany you. It will show Mistress St. John that I fully approve of any alliance contracted between her son and our family.” There was a smile of utter satisfaction upon her handsome face. It was going well, and it was going to work out precisely as she had hoped. “Have you thought about when we shall have the wedding, my child?” she asked.
“I have not told St. John yes yet, ma’am.” Aurora laughed.
“But you will, of course, and the sooner the better,” the old lady advised her charge.
“Would late spring be too soon?” Aurora wondered. “I suppose we should probably wait a year not to appear unseemly, but I have always wanted to be married in the spring. Cally should be well recovered from her childbirth by then, and can be my attendant witness, as I was for her when she married the duke last winter.”
“Spring would be a perfect time,” the dowager agreed. “April or May, my child. Mid-May would be beautiful! And who cares what the old gossips say. St. John is eager, and so, I suspect, are you now.” Her blue eyes twinkled mischievously at the girl. “I well remember those heady kisses of my youth. None are ever quite so sweet as those.”
“I respect your experience,” Aurora told her playfully. “Now, however, ma’am, I suspect that you would like to retire. I bid you good night.” Impulsively, Aurora bent and kissed the dowager’s wrinkled cheek. Then with a quick curtsy she was gone from the room.
Mary Rose Hawkesworth touched her cheek, and a tear rolled down her face. “Why, that sweet child,” she said softly.
“She is that,” Jane agreed. “A pity she weren’t the one we got for Master Valerian.”
“Yes,” the dowager agreed. “A great pity indeed.”
Chapter 9
“Hold still, miss,” Martha said as she carefully laced up her young mistress. “‘I’ve never known you to be so fidgety!”
“I’ve never been invited to meet a gentleman’s mother before, and frankly I’m nervous,” Aurora admitted to her maid.
“The dowager will be with you,” Martha replied. “Just let her do all the talking. Answer politely and try to appear mannerly, miss. Mistress St. John doesn’t have to know you ride astride or like to swim naked in the sea. Just be what every mama wants for her son. A well-mannered, loving girl who will devote herself to her husband.”
“I haven’t told St. John that I’ll marry him yet,” Aurora protested.
Martha turned the girl about and looked critically at her garb. Apple-green silk gown with a petticoat panel of ivory brocade embroidered with multicolored butterflies; tight sleeves to just below the elbow with creamy engageants; a pretty rounded neckline modestly edged with a lace ruffle. She nodded, satisfied. “Of course you’re going to marry Mr. St. John, miss,” she said. “That’s what we come from St. Timothy for last winter. To find you a husband, and Mr. St. John will make you a fine one. Now, here’s your shawl. It’s not cold, so you’ll not need a cloak.” She draped it over Aurora’s shoulders, then handed her a pair of lace mitts and a reticule of pale green silk. “There’s a handkerchief inside, and a little painted fan if it gets too warm. Now, you hold still a minute while I affix the finishing touch.” She put a small bunch of little cream-colored silk flowers in the girl’s hair and stepped back. “Yes,” she nodded. “It’s just perfect. Now, go and join the dowager, and remember what I told you. A modest and mannerly demeanor and a gentle voice will impress Mistress St. John best.”
Mary Rose Hawkesworth stood wi
th her grandson as Aurora descended the staircase. “How pretty you look, my child,” she complimented her.
“Thank you, ma’am” came the response, and then Aurora looked at the duke and said, “Do you think I look pretty, Valerian?”
“Conserve your flirtatious manners for my cousin, Aurora,” he sharply put her down. “I am certain he will be delighted to see how boldly you have dressed for him.”
“Boldly? What in heaven’s name is bold about my appearance?” she demanded angrily.
“The neckline on your gown is immodest,” he grumbled.
“It is edged in a lace ruffle, and Martha says it is quite decorous,” Aurora snapped back at him. “You surely don’t consider yourself an arbiter on women’s fashions, sir?”
“Enough,” the dowager said, raising her hand, and then, “Come, my dear, or we will be late to Primrose Court.” She gave her grandson a hard look and then took Aurora’s arm.
He stood watching as the carriage drew away from the house. She had looked utterly adorable, and the thought that she had dressed with the idea of pleasing St. John was infuriating. Did his cousin love Aurora? Really love her? Would he make her happy, or would he break her heart when she discovered St. John’s penchant for women? All women. St. John would do what so many of their contemporaries did. He would take a respectable wife with a respectable dowry and have several children, all the while keeping a bit of fluff hidden away. Valerian Hawkesworth knew his cousin’s bad habits, although St. John had always been so utterly discreet that virtually no one realized what a cad he could be. Of course, the duke admitted to himself, he had taken a wife for precisely the same reasons they all did, and while he did not love Calandra, he had never been unfaithful to her except perhaps in the deepest and most secret place in his heart. With a sigh he returned to his library, and pouring himself a whiskey, sat down.
Deceived Page 17
