by Lauren Smith
Without warning, she came apart beneath him and called out his name. She went limp beneath him, and he pistoned even harder until his body ached, demanding one more push, and then he came. A rough shout escaped him as he melted into her. He should have withdrawn, or used a French letter, but he had become lost in this woman and in this moment. He stayed there, lying on her, feeling her channel squeeze him with rippling aftershocks. His release had been pure bliss, and he couldn’t deny that everything about this woman in this moment had felt right.
He looked down at her, and she gazed up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’m going to perish.” She paused and then added, “Perish in the most exquisite way.”
“You’re not hurt?” He had to be completely sure.
“No.” She shifted beneath him, wincing. “Well, perhaps a little sore, but I don’t mind.”
“Stay right there,” he commanded and carefully withdrew from her. He retrieved a cloth from beside his washbasin and returned to the bed. They both blanched at the streaks of blood on her thighs as he wiped her clean, which extended to his own shaft as well. He cleaned himself, and when he turned around she was already burrowed deep beneath the blankets, still naked.
“Is it all right if I stay? Or should I sleep in my own chamber?”
The thought of her leaving made him want to growl and block her escape. “You are exactly where I wish you to be.”
A delighted smile flashed across her lips. “Good, because my legs are as unstable as a newborn foal’s, and I’m not sure I could’ve walked back to my room.”
“I’d be more than happy to carry you anywhere, but right now I want you here.” He climbed under the covers, tucked her body against his, and sighed in contentment. He’d never felt so calm and at peace in his entire life. She tangled her legs in his and gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes.
“I should hate you,” she murmured. His heart sank, but then she continued. “I should, but I don’t. I like you…far too much.” Her confusion stunned him, but before he could say anything, her lashes fanned down and she sank into an exhausted sleep. Martin held her tight, afraid she might slip away like a phantasm after uttering the words he’d been too afraid to hope to hear.
She likes me, far too much. And I like her far too much. What was he to do?
He couldn’t keep her, even though he wished to. He’d vowed never to love, never to care except when it came to his sister. Helen was the only one he could safely let into his heart.
Martin brushed a lock of hair from her face and smiled as he watched her sleep. Would she dream of him? From her content and relaxed expression, he hoped she would, because he knew he would dream of her. Dangerous, wonderful, tempting dreams that made his chest tighten with an emotion he never thought he’d feel again after his parents died.
Hope.
13
Livvy wasn’t sure how long she slept, but she woke to a possessive yet gentle hand caressing her hip and felt a little kiss upon her lips. She opened her eyes, noticed Martin’s own eyes were closed, and she let him continue to kiss her. It was still dark outside, and she ought to go back to sleep, but she was amused at Martin kissing her.
Was he dreaming? It seemed like it. A blend of warmth and lust filled her despite her soreness. She wanted Martin to be inside her again. The first time had been a little frightening, but once the pain had passed, she’d given in to her urges, overcome by the power that her desires gave her. She stretched a leg over his lower body, hoping to convey her interest. He made a soft sound of delight as he cupped her bottom and gave it a light smack. She giggled and wiggled over him, kissing him more heatedly.
He opened his eyes as their lips briefly broke apart. “Do you wish to learn how to ride a man?” he asked. His eyes burned like blue diamonds lit by firelight.
“Is that…how is that possible?” She raked her nails down his chest, and he hissed out a groan.
“Let me show you.” He shifted her so that she lay fully on top of him. “Hips up, darling.” He tapped her hips with his hands, then reached between their bodies and gripped his shaft. It stood at attention, and she finally understood. She could ease down on top of it and—he thrust up into her, pulling her hips down, and she squeaked in surprise. The new position made her feel impaled upon him, so much so that for a moment she struggled to breathe.
“Oh Lord,” she panted, shifting a little as he filled every inch of her.
“Still sore?” he asked.
“A little, but it’s not bad.” She laid her palms flat on his chest and leaned forward to steal a kiss. He gripped her backside and lifted her up, then pulled her down again, showing her the rhythm to set. She sat back, arching her back to find the most comfortable angle, and he gazed up at her, her breasts bouncing as she rose up to ride him.
It really is a bit like riding. The thought was so scandalous that she knew later she would be blushing violently.
“That’s it,” he encouraged in a low growl. His hands moved from around her breasts, pinching the hard nipples and rolling them between his fingers.
She hissed and rocked on him faster and harder, desperate for that surge of blinding pleasure that only he could give her. When he lowered one hand to stroke his thumb over her tight bundle of nerves, she came hard, and his gruff shout told her he’d come as well. Passion burst between them, and Livvy felt tears blur her eyes as she sank down on top of him. Their skin shimmered with perspiration, and he slowly ran his hands up and down her back. She laid her head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
“It’s after midnight. Are you hungry?” he asked.
“I am. May we get something to eat?” She slid off him, hating to separate their bodies, but they needed to be able to move.
“Yes. Stay here. I’ll fetch something.” Martin slid out of the bed and retrieved his dressing gown. He wrapped it tight, and with a wicked grin he exited the bedchamber.
Livvy lay back on the bed, watching the shadows cast by the firelight. Her fantasies of being Cleopatra had certainly come to life. She bit her lip and hid a smile. A few minutes later, Martin returned and set a tray beside her. Then he stoked the flames and added a few logs to the fire.
She sat up and pulled the sheets up to her collarbone, waiting for him to join her. He let his dressing gown drop, and she had a chance yet again to admire his lean, strong body. Once he was in bed, he set the tray between them and gestured at the food.
“Please, eat.”
She picked up a bit of cheese and a few slices of apple, and he did the same. They ate in silence, and for a moment she was able to forget why she was there. She was not Martin’s mistress, nor was he the man who’d purchased her in lieu of her father’s massive debt. She was just herself, in bed with a man she loved. Loved. The word was there, easy upon her lips. She was in love with him and had known from the start it was a risk.
“I wish it could always be like this,” she said softly. Martin stilled as he reached for another piece of cheese.
“So do I,” he finally replied.
“But it can’t, can it?”
He didn’t respond right away. “I don’t think so. Even though I might wish differently.”
She swallowed her last bit of food, her appetite waning now. “Because of my father?”
“I can never forgive him for what he did. I watched my mother’s heart give out. You can’t possibly know what that was like. In only a few years, Helen and I were completely on our own.”
Livvy wanted him to share more of his life with her, even if only by conversation. She shifted closer to Martin, and he set the tray on the table beside him. “I should like to hear more about her.”
“She’s wonderful. I truly mean that. I know plenty of men who find their sisters tiring, boring, or costly. But Helen is…splendid. She’s the smarter of the two of us and the braver as well. She fought a duel for me once, when I was young and foolish.”
“She did what? A due
l?”
Martin chuckled. “I was in Bath, gambling, doing everything I could to try to increase our fortune, but I lost it all. A man named Gareth Fairfax was furious when he discovered I had no means to pay my debt back. He challenged me to a duel, but when Helen found out, she locked me in a room and went in my place. She dressed in my clothes and hid her hair. It was quite the thing, or so I was told.”
“What happened?” She covered his arm with a hand and tucked herself against his side.
“She and Garrett dueled, she grazed him and revealed she was a woman, and he took her home as a way to pay off my debts.”
Livvy stiffened. “Like you did with me?”
“Yes,” he sighed. “Believe me, the similarity between that situation and ours is not lost on me. But I gave you a choice. Helen had less of one.”
“So she went home with him,” Livvy prompted.
“They fell in love, if you can believe it. They’ve been married for seven years and have two children.”
Livvy rested her head on Martin shoulder, wondering why she and Martin couldn’t be so lucky, but she knew the truth. Her father’s actions all those years ago would forever hang over their heads and keep them apart.
“Does she live in London?”
Martin shook his head. “She lives closer to Bath. But she and Garrett have a townhouse, and they sometimes visit.”
“Oh…” Livvy tried to fight off a wave of disappointment. She knew she couldn’t ever meet Helen, she was a mistress. Men didn’t introduce their mistresses to their family.
“I’m sorry. We haven’t done much socially since you have been here. I could write her, see if she wishes to come. I had planned on visiting her for Christmas, but…”
But they both weren’t sure if she would still be with him for the holidays. Livvy ignored the pang that thought created in her chest and focused on the present moment.
“But she can’t meet me…I’m not…”
“You’re a fine young woman. You’re not like the others. Helen is more…open in her thoughts than most ladies. She wouldn’t cast judgement upon you, not when the sins are mine. I think she might come.”
Livvy tried to calm her excitement and kissed his cheek. “That would be wonderful!”
Martin hugged her back, then slipped out of bed to stoke the fire once more and blow out the remaining candles. Then he rejoined her in bed, and they settled into sleep. Livvy curled herself around Martin, wishing she didn’t have to think about the day they went their separate ways. Her heart would surely break when they did.
The next two weeks passed in a blur for Livvy. She and Martin were locked in a dream of passion and delight. They went riding in the morning and went out during the day. At night he made love to her until they collapsed, exhausted, in each other’s arms. In all the ways but one, they seemed to be living a full life together. Only a shadow of how they’d met lingered now, but it was enough that she could not forget for one minute that she wasn’t Martin’s wife, but his mistress.
Livvy lingered in the door of the library and eyed the empty settee. Martin was due to meet her here for a light luncheon before they headed out for the day. She stared at the couch, and an impish idea filled her. If she was being honest, she’d been inspired by a scene in one of her favorite novels and wanted to see if Martin would like it.
She removed her slippers and stockings, then lifted her blue-and-gold silk skirt out of the way as she sat crossways on the couch. Leaning her back against one armrest, she tossed her legs over the opposite arm in a scandalous pose that exposed her legs up to her thighs. Then she crossed one leg over the other at one knee and waited. After a few minutes, she heard Martin whistling softly down the corridor.
“Livvy?” he called out.
“In the library!” She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he walked inside.
The door cracked open, and he peered around the frame. “Livvy, I—” He froze, his lips parted as he gazed down at her. Then his shock transformed in raw lust as he closed the door behind him, locking it. Livvy gripped her skirts, moving them higher still as he stepped toward her.
“Playing a game?” His voice was low, with a dangerous edge to it.
“I thought I might, if you wish to play too.” She batted her lashes and then did something she hadn’t planned on. She slid her hand between her thighs, parting her undergarments, then pushed her finger in her own slick channel.
Martin sank to his knees with a groan in front of the settee. Livvy watched him through hooded eyes as she continued to stroke herself, and finally he couldn’t seem to stand waiting another moment. He pulled her to face with him on the couch and spread her legs wide, tossing her skirts up to her hips. Then he tore at the delicate underclothes until he found his way to her. He put his mouth to her folds, his hot breath fanning over the most sensitive parts of her. His clever tongue set off a blinding heat inside her as he explored her.
Livvy panted, throwing her head back as he lashed inside her over and over again. The sensation made her dizzy with heated delight. She writhed against him, and he caught her hips, holding her still.
“Behave, little hellion, or I’ll bend you over the nearest table and fuck the fight out of you.”
His dark, delicious tone only made her white-hot with need.
“Don’t promise something like that…” She dug her fingers into his golden hair. “Unless you intend to follow through.”
He sheathed his tongue inside her, and she arched her back, crying out at the flood of pleasure. She was so close, so deliciously close.
He got to his feet and pulled her away from the settee. Before she could react, he bent her over the reading table and tossed her skirts up to her hips from behind. He unfastened his trousers, his thick shaft filling her, pushing deep into her.
Livvy moaned, pressing her cheek against the table, glad to feel the cool wood, because everything inside her was on fire. She opened her legs wider to receive him. As he claimed her, she completely forgot who she was. She had become a primal creature, driven by a savage need to be filled by the man behind her. She was mad for him, mad to be possessed by him, never wanting him to stop.
Martin’s energy dominated her as he gripped her hips and drove into her over and over. This…this was the delicious danger that drew her in like a moth to the flame. He could burn her up with his body, yet she came back wanting more.
When she came, she cried out his name. Seconds later, he forcefully uttered hers before collapsing on top of her.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, and kissed the nape of her neck.
“I’m quite…” She drew in a deep breath. “Wonderful. You?”
“Wonderful as well.” He chuckled and nipped her earlobe tenderly before he stood and withdrew from her. He used a handkerchief to clean them before she tugged her skirts back into place and then tried to walk. She made it two shaky steps before she collapsed in Martin’s arms, laughing. He scooped her up and carried her over to the settee and sat down, settling her across his lap. They remained like that, chuckling together while they both recovered their breath.
“You never cease to amaze me,” he said with a soft, sunny smile that filled her with warmth.
She trailed a finger along the folds of his cravat. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“It is a most excellent thing.”
He nuzzled her before kissing her softly, slowly, so delicately that it felt like she was caught up in the most wonderful of daydreams. She never wanted it to end.
“Livvy, I—”
Whatever Martin was about to say, she would never know. A knock on the library door interrupted them.
“Sir, you have visitors,” Harris called out from behind the closed door.
“Visitors? Who is it?”
“Your sister and her husband…and the children, of course.”
“Good God.” Martin hastily set her off his lap and collected her stockings and slippers, his face ru
ddy. His jerky movements of getting his trousers back up underscored his anxiety.
“Helen is here?” Livvy almost tore her stockings as she pulled them on.
“Yes. Why don’t you go to your bedchamber while I see to my sister and this mess?”
Livvy tried to ignore the fact that she’d been called a “mess.” She fled to her bedchamber and slammed the door, resting her back against it. Martin was right. The situation was a mess. She could not be introduced as his mistress to his sister and her family. It would be scandalous, and no doubt his sister would see it as an insult. She had been a fool to think she could ever meet his family.
I must wait until they leave. She ignored the burning tears in her eyes. She’d been so foolish to ever talk of meeting his family. It had never been a possibility.
I am his kept woman, not his wife.
14
Martin checked his cravat once more in the mirror in the hall and scrubbed his hands through his hair, trying to tame the wildness from where Livvy had tugged on the strands in the midst of their passion. Then he entered into the drawing room and faced his twin sister.
Helen stood by the fireplace. She was only a few inches shorter than him and bore the same blonde hair and handsome features he did, though hers were reflective of her feminine beauty. In her arms she held Delilah, her two-year-old daughter, and beside her stood Gareth, her husband. He held the hand of their five-year-old son, Jeremy, who whooped with delight when he finally saw Martin.
“Uncle Martin?” Jeremy tore free of his father’s hand and rushed toward him. It was a tradition between the two of them. Jeremy would fling himself at Martin, and Martin would catch him. He wound his arms around the little boy. He had his mother’s bright blue eyes, but his dark brown hair was that of his father. Delilah, on the other hand, favored her mother completely.
“I say, old boy,” Martin said, jiggling the child in his arms, “you must’ve grown a dozen inches since I last saw you. Won’t be long now before you’re taller than me!”
