“So you are alone?” Lydia inquired, echoing Lucas’s thoughts though obviously with not the same lustful musings.
“I would hardly call a house full of servants alone,” Catherine replied, her voice tinged with amusement.
“Lucas would never permit us to be at home alone despite the fact that I shall reach the age of majority in a few months. Why I’ve known girls who were married with a child at the age of seventeen.” Lucas felt rather than saw Caroline’s gaze shift in his direction.
“Please don’t compare your situation with Miss Rutherford’s. New York and Reading are vastly different,” he replied, in his defense.
It was not a secret that Caroline sometimes chafed under his rules. But then she was a young lady who didn’t always know what was best for her. Lacking proper guidance from their mother, as her older brother it fell to him to ensure her safety and wellbeing no matter what the cost. And even if the cost meant heated arguments and the slamming of bedroom doors.
Catherine’s tinkling laughter filled the interior of the cab. “My dear, I believe I can safely say that I have you at more than a few years advantage, which makes me too old for a governess as my brother knows. When I do require a chaperone, I am fortunate enough to have two respectable married women to choose from. And should neither be available, Olivia and Meghan are more than willing to have me make use of theirs.”
“I sorely wish I had someone like Charlotte to act as my chaperone,” Caroline declared and turned to look out the window, where they passed nothing but fields and the odd dwelling under the night sky.
“You’ve done one better because you have me,” Lucas replied facetiously, trying to lighten her mood.
Lydia giggled and Catherine coughed in a futile attempt to cover a laugh. Caroline mumbled something under her breath. Lucas caught the words overbearing and space.
For the rest of the journey, Caroline remained inordinately quiet, which had Lucas thinking that maybe his sister had taken the dissolution of her betrothal to Lord Billings harder than she’d been letting on thus far.
Once they arrived, he quickly ushered his sister’s into the house, deflecting Lydia’s question as to when he would be returning. When he climbed back into the carriage, instead of resuming his seat across from Catherine, he proceeded to sit right next to her. Close.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Catherine gulped as Lucas climbed back into the landau, butterflies taking flight in her belly, her nerves taut with anticipation. “Is Caroline going to be alright? She seemed dispirited.” Her concern was genuine but she was also trying to act as normal as possible.
“You needn’t worry about my sister. By tomorrow she’ll be back to usual charming self,” he said with an assurance that put her mind at ease. No doubt, he knew his sister better than most.
“So your brother and his family are out of town?” he asked in a dark, purring voice that started setting off sparks inside her.
All she could do was give a self-conscious nod for she knew precisely on what and where his thoughts centered. In scope and proximity, hers came close as well. The imagination was a dangerous thing to behold.
She felt his bare hand slide over her arm and down to her hand. Her heart accelerated as he patiently peeled her glove off…one finger at a time. She watched in silence as he did the same to the other one. Catherine would never have imagined that glove removal could be so seductive. She was practically panting by the time he’d finished.
“Is your brother aware that you’ve left your sister’s residence? You’re very fond of Lord and Lady Armstrong, did you not want to go to Devon as well?”
There was no censure in his question, but Catherine still felt the need to defend her brother and his wife. “I was invited to go but I refused.”
“Why?” he asked, running his finger gently over the back of her hand, his leg now flush against hers.
Her breath caught in her throat. He shifted closer, his other hand coming up to cup her cheek, turning her face toward his. He leaned in and his breath misted her lips.
“I preferred to remain here,” she replied, more breath than speech. Her heart pounded so loud in her ears, she couldn’t hear herself think. His face was shrouded in all hues of the night darkness but she could see his lips hovering over hers.
“Why?” he persisted before brushing her mouth in a kiss.
Catherine emitted a sound of want, yearning. It was becoming difficult to keep her eyes open.
“Because you are here,” she whispered, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. In hopes her admission would end her torment.
“Yes,” was all she heard before his mouth took hers. Impatient, hungry, and hot enough to start her burning, the kiss didn’t flicker to life, it exploded. Catherine angled her body and wrapped her arms around his neck, and held on tight.
“God, I missed you,” he groaned into her mouth before taking the kiss deeper. Their tongues traded greedy parries and thrusts leaving Catherine a prisoner of the passion that blazed between them.
The hand at her waist slipped under her cloak to track a relentless path to the underside of her breast. Once it arrived at its destination, he palmed it softly in his hand. In response, her nipples became ruched buds of need and the ache between her legs turned into full-blown throbbing. She squirmed to try to relieve herself of the building pressure.
Dragging his mouth from hers, he whispered hoarsely, “I want to touch you.”
She would have laughed were she able. Was he not touching her? Her lips, her breasts? God she wanted to touch him.
His hand found her bottom and lifted her until she could feel his erection hard and stiff against her. “I want inside you so badly, I cannot think straight,” he growled, trailing moist kisses from her chin down to her neck.
His words destroyed her, wrecked her inside and out. She squirmed, tightened her arms around his neck, and pulled his mouth back up to hers.
This time the kiss eclipsed hungry, crossing the line over to gluttonous all too quickly. She could not get enough of him. His delectable lips and talented tongue worked their magic on her, reduced as she was to a heaving, breathless mass, desperate to take from him all he had to give—and then some.
Never had a kiss felt as if drowning in desire held more appeal than breathing with ease and comfort. Never had she felt so alive while floundering in the grips of a force she had no wish or will to oppose.
His fingers played with her nipple through layers of muslin and satin, rolling the tight bud between his fingers. And with each stroke, roll, rub, her center contracted, the ache there growing increasingly and deliciously unbearable.
God she wanted to touch him. And she did, pushing her hand between them to rub the heel of her palm along the steely length of him and grip as much of him over his trousers.
With an anguished groan, he broke the kiss. His harsh breathing mixed with her pants of sexual distress.
She squeezed his hard member to remind him the pleasures that awaited him. “Lucas,” she implored, and tried to bring his mouth back down to hers.
“Not here, my love,” he gasped, both hands coming up to hug her tight against him, his cheek pressed to the side of her head. “I don’t want your first time to be in a carriage.”
Catherine immediately stiffened in his arms and he knew something was wrong. Had he assumed too much? No, he could not have given how wild she’d been in his arms. She soon removed her hand from the front of his trousers and his cock throbbed at the loss.
Slowly he pulled his head back and peered into her eyes. He could only make out the outline of her face. “What?” She couldn’t say she didn’t want it just as much as he did.
“I—you are right. We shouldn’t— Not here.”
A moment ago, she had been fire in his arms, her kiss greedy and demanding. And then with a few ill-chosen words, she gone stiff and proper. He should have kept his trap shut.
“In your bed then?” he asked huskily, lowering his head to nibble the spot be
hind her ear. He knew how to ignite her passions again.
“The servants,” she protested weakly, trying to wiggle away from him.
Frowning, he raised his head again and regarded her. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? And don’t tell me that nothing is or I’ll know you’re lying.”
When she shifted in silence, he drew back and slid several inches away from her on the leather seat to permit her space for it was obvious that’s what she desired.
The silence was broken only by the clatter of wheels and the rhythmic pounding of the horses hooves. Inside the carriage, it was broken by nothing and no one.
“It wouldn’t be my first time.” Her voice was small and trembled.
Lucas had never been a prude. In his thirty-four years, he’d taken many lovers. Once he’d even thought himself in love only to realize he’d been thinking with his cock not his head or his heart. Pure was the last thing he’d have called the women he’d taken to his bed, so purity in that sense didn’t much matter to him.
Or so he thought until Catherine’s announcement shocked him further into silence.
When it became clear she had no intention on expounding on what she’d just said, Lucas cleared his throat and asked, “When I was here last, you’d led me to believe that you’d never been in love before. That you in fact, had never before been serious about any gentlemen.”
“I hadn’t.”
Oh. He mulled her response over in his mind as he again opted for silence instead of demanding she tell him who and when. Alienating her wouldn’t help the matter.
“Then how is it that I—that I’m not to be your first?” he asked as if it were the next logical question of which he was owed an answer.
“How many women have you taken to your bed?” No hint of trepidation, she sounded cool and calm now and there was a bite of defensiveness to her tone.
Before he could respond, they drew to a stop. Catherine pushed aside the curtain and the lights within Rutherford Manor filtered into the carriage, illuminating her face.
“Well?”
Her hand stilled on the curtain, she looked askance at him.
“I’d very much like an answer to my question first,” Lucas replied tersely, surprised and troubled by his reaction but seemingly incapable of tempering it.
“My point simply is that I don’t take issue—nor daresay am I permitted to—with the fact that there have been other women in your past, therefore the fact that I won’t come to your bed a virgin should not be a matter of consequence.”
“Oh I understand your point very well—”
Catherine’s gaze jerked to the front entrance when the double doors swung opened and more light spilled forth. The butler’s tall, slender frame stood silhouetted against the entryway, his appearance effectively halting Lucas’s speech. The driver then opened the door.
“Now isn’t the time, Lucas.” With that, she allowed herself to be assisted from the carriage.
Lucas followed and came to stand before her.
“I would like to discuss this. Invite me in,” he insisted, although mindful of the impropriety of the request. They could not leave things like this—so unfinished.
Catherine shot a furtive glance over at the butler before saying in a fierce whisper, “Lucas, it is late and Reeves is waiting. I told him he was not to wait up for me.”
She sang this tune now, but he was sure had there been no inference to her virginity, she wouldn’t have complained about the late hour. She’d have let him hurry her up the stairs, into her bedroom and onto her bed until she was flat on her back beneath him.
“It’s not quite ten in the evening. Early even by country hours.”
“Please, Lucas, we shall discuss this tomorrow.”
Lucas could only grit his teeth in frustration. But what was he to do? Force her into the house in full view of her brother’s servants. And it was clear by the jut of her chin that she wasn’t going to allow herself to be coaxed. Damn, she wasn’t even going to let him through the front door.
“Very well, we will speak in the morning. But at least allow me to see you to the door,” he said not at all pleased that she’d managed to put him off. Not at all pleased at how the night would end. And definitely not pleased that he’d be kept awake all night wondering precisely when and to whom she’d given her virginity.
After Esther departed her room, Catherine drew on the nightdress she’d laid out for her and imagined Lucas taking it off. He’d do it slowly, kissing and caressing every bit of bare flesh he unveiled. And he’d be thorough about it, spending more time on her breasts as he worried her nipples into stiff, rosy buds. His fingers would find her slick between her thighs and she’d gasp her pleasure when he tested her readiness.
That was how she’d hoped to end the evening. A quick dash up the stairs to her bedroom. A locked door and a bed was all they would need. Instead he’d said those words that had stopped her cold.
I don’t want your first time to be in a carriage.
Catherine doused the candle at her bedside, climbed into her bed, pulled the covers up to her chin and stared sightlessly at the canopy above.
It hadn’t been in a carriage though. She’d relinquished her virginity to Jonathon Samuel on a perfectly fine bed. It had taken less than an hour and she’d walked away with a soreness between her legs and an ache in her heart, knowing it had been the second biggest mistake of her life.
Her only excuse is that she been too numb with grief and sadness to think clearly. When Charlotte had fled, her life had collapsed down around her. It had lost its meaning and it had been her own fault. Very little had mattered but finding her twin and bringing her home. Mr. Samuel had promised he could do that. He’d taken more than the money her brother had paid him to accomplish the task.
But he hadn’t taken anything she hadn’t given him freely. At the time, she’d failed to see its worth. Then, she lived hour-to-hour, day to excruciating day crying herself to sleep every night. Relief had only found her two weeks after Charlotte’s flight, when they’d received a letter from her. She’d written that she was safe and unhurt, but had refused to reveal her location, therefore the search continued. She needed her sister back home with them. More than that, Alex desperately needed her.
Mr. Samuel was a well-respected private investigator and following the weeks of making his acquaintance, she began to meet with him without James’s knowledge. Catherine could tell his concern for her sister was genuine. He’d wanted to find her almost as much as her family had. She would soon discover why.
Their meetings had evolved from discussions of locating her sister to soothing words of comfort that helped calm her fears and ease the unbearable weight from her chest. Allowing him to take her to his bed had—she saw much later—stemmed from loneliness and gratitude. But at the time, he’d been the only source of hope in her life. Her one link to the twin she’d driven away.
Would Lucas understand that? She’d always considered him an enlightened man. His views on many of the current women’s issues, like their right to vote and obtain a divorce, matched her own. He staunchly agreed that women were equal to men in all the ways that mattered.
Did that then not make the notion that a woman must be pure for her husband outdated? Men surely did not remain pure for their wives. But his whole manner had changed when she’d told him. She hadn’t needed to see his face, she’d first heard it in his voice.
Now she wondered if this would mean the end of them. Perhaps a virginal bride was his prerequisite. Well, she would discover that in the morning.
On that irrefutable fact, Catherine fell into a fitful sleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lucas could come to only one conclusion; during the year he’d gone without physical intimacy, Catherine had given herself to someone else. While he’d been working all hours of the day, pushing his body to its limits, she’d been allowing another man to kiss and touch her—she’d allowed this man the ultimate act of intimacy. While he’d den
ied himself, the thought of satisfying his needs with someone else consuming him with guilt, she’d denied herself nothing.
Given the vein of his thoughts, his mood was dark when he called at Rutherford Manor the following day. His sisters had only begun to stir when he’d departed the house. The ride over didn’t take long but felt like an eternity.
He was led into the entryway with little fanfare. The place wasn’t bustling with activity as he’d last found it the year before. He waited in the entryway as the footman went off with his name and not his card. A minute later, he returned and escorted Lucas to the drawing room. Nothing in the room held his interest until Catherine appeared minutes later.
She was clad in a fitted, high-collared dress and whatever the color—something between pink and orange—it suited her. Today, she wore her hair more down than up, the curls falling past her shoulders. She was breathtaking and the sight of her reined in the thoughts that had been running through his head since the night before.
“Good morning, Lucas.”
“Catherine,” he replied.
Not a flicker of unease showed in her expression. She appeared more composed than he felt, putting her at an advantage. He resented that.
He nodded toward the sofa, the gesture inviting her to sit as if this were his residence and not hers.
Without uttering a word, she obliged him.
As she passed, he caught a whiff of her perfume and could only think of burying his face in her neck and inhaling the scent of her. She would smell that good all over. But he resisted for they had important matters to discuss.
When she was seated, he lowered himself into the armchair to her right, sure to sit within touching distance. Observing her now, Lucas saw she wasn’t as composed as he’d first thought. She couldn’t hold his gaze and her hands fidgeted in her lap.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, determined he would conduct himself like a gentleman and not a jealous lover. This was not going to be adversarial. What’s done was done. He just wanted—no needed to know some of the specifics of her affair with this man. Masochist that he was.
Twice the Temptation Page 18
