‘Sometimes, but it was never an option for me.’
‘So you missed out on the parties and balls.’
She laughed lightly. ‘I doubt I would have been able to attend such frivolous events had I been here in England. No, my father needed me to assist him with his work. I was content.’
‘So,’ he said, smiling down at her, ‘I am the first man to have kissed you.’
She nodded. ‘Which is why I’m not very good at it.’
‘Would you like me to show you?’
Thinking he was complaining, lifting her chin, she scowled at him, her back to the wall. ‘I’m sure you must have been disappointed. You must forgive me.’ As Jane saw the wicked smile on his lips a pained expression crossed her face. ‘There’s no need to make fun of me. Not all of us have the benefit of your experience and expertise.’
She started to turn away, but he lifted his arms to brace them against the wall, trapping her. He leaned closer, inhaling the scent of her. ‘You did not disappoint me, Jane,’ he said softly, using her given name for the first time, sending a warm thrill through her. ‘Quite the contrary. I liked it so much that I would like a repeat performance.’
Her face took on a look of panic, but she tilted her head back and met his eyes. The closeness of his body was making her feel warm. ‘You would?’
He grinned. No woman could stick her nose in the air better than Jane Mortimer. He nodded. ‘Don’t be afraid that my sinful ways will corrupt you.’ He bent his head until his mouth was an inch from hers. ‘After all, you might like it better a second time.’
His gaze lowered to her lips. Jane felt a sudden rush of anticipation and denial, pleasure and panic. Her pulse beat frantically in her ears.
The corners of his mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile and he reached out and traced the line of her lips with the tip of his finger.
A quivering began deep inside her. Her lips parted, and she knew she should speak, should protest, should pull away. But she remained motionless and silent, awash in the sensation of his light caress. What was he doing? she wondered. What was this raw ache, this intense pull she was feeling? He knows the effect his touch is having, she thought, watching his gaze follow the deliberate motion of his finger back and forth across her lower lip.
His hand moved to cup her chin, then to caress her throat. Then, slowly, he pulled away, leaving her in the aftermath of the sensations he had created, bereft and dazed and still waiting for a kiss that never came.
‘I think the rain has lessened,’ he said. ‘We should be getting back.’
Slowly the sound of his voice penetrated her mind. ‘Yes, I suppose we should,’ she murmured, staring at him, her cheeks burning, the aftermath of his touch lingering. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was not used to being touched, she told herself. That was all. But the unbelievable pleasure of it had taken her by surprise. She could not believe the melting sensation he could evoke when his fingertips touched her.
Neither of them made a move to leave. The sound of the rain dripping in the doorway ticked away the seconds as they looked at each other.
Jane knew they should leave, but she stood rooted to the spot.
Taking the initiative, Christopher exhaled sharply. ‘Jane.’
She watched his eyes turn smoky. His lashes lowered. Instinctively she swayed towards him, willing him to kiss her.
Raising his hands, he buried his fingers in her hair, wrapping its thick strands in his fists. Drawing her face closer to his, he gazed down at her in wonder. Her magnificent eyes were naked and defenceless.
With her heart pounding turbulently, Jane saw his eyes translucent in the dim light, his lean features starkly etched.
‘A kiss, then, Miss Mortimer—to confirm what your lips told me the first time.’
Jane shook her head in feeble protest. The insistent pressure of his body, those feral eyes glittering with power and primeval hunger, washed away any measure of comfort she might have felt. A strange, alien feeling fluttered within her breast and she was halted for a brief passage of time when she found her lips entrapped with his once more. Though they were soft and tender, they burned with a fire that scorched her. Closing her eyes, she yielded to it, melting against him.
‘I cannot stop myself doing this, Jane,’ he murmured, raising his head a little. ‘I am not made of stone and, God help me, I cannot stop wanting you.’
Lightly brushing her lips, he felt them tremble beneath his, but she did not move or push him away. He ran his tongue across her closed lips, tasting, coaxing, until she yielded, until her mouth opened beneath his with a wordless sound of surprise.
Something told him he ought to stop, that he had gone too far, but when she made a tiny sound, a fluttering, purely feminine mixture of innocence and invitation, his last vestige of reason dissolved.
Jane’s lips clung to his and she closed her eyes, remembering how it had felt to have his mouth on hers.
After what seemed an eternity, Christopher raised his head and looked at her upturned face. His stare travelled over her, consuming her with unnerving intensity.
Frank, open lust.
His senses were invaded by the smell of her. It was the soft fragrance of her unbound hair—the sweet scent of jasmine mingled with the musky female scent—that made his body burn. Curling his long masculine fingers round her chin, he tilted her face up to his. Her eyes were large, black and soft, her eyelashes still moist and glistening with rain.
It seemed a lifetime passed as they gazed at each other. In that lifetime each lived through a range of deep, tender emotions new to them both, exquisite emotions that neither of them could put into words. As though in slow motion Christopher drew her to him. His gaze was gentle and compelling, then his arms were around her again. As though in slow motion, she was melting against him as his warm, fine mouth moved inexorably over hers. Unable to pull away, Jane lost herself in his wondrous kiss, so deep and drugging and slow.
She clung to him, her arms around his neck, one leg trapped about him as though to hold him even closer. Their bodies fitted together, breast to breast, thigh to thigh, their mouths fused, moving, caressing. She lifted her chin and his lips slid beneath it and along her jaw, taking the lobe of her ear between his lips. Suddenly he loosened his hold and reached out to grasp the discarded cape, quickly spreading it on the floor. Taking her back in his embrace, with a groan they both sank to their knees as though the strength had gone from them. She held his head, wrapping her arms about it as his mouth slid to her breast, then his hands went to the buttons and unfastened them, releasing the fullness of them, the hardness of her rosy nipples in his mouth.
‘Dear God, Jane,’ he gasped and she was made to realise there was no going back, no escaping what was to happen.
Seizing his waistcoat in her fists, she pulled him closer. In response, he deepened the kiss, tasting her with his tongue. Wrapping one hand around his neck, she tangled her other hand in the thick, short strands of his damp hair.
He broke the kiss pulling back to look at her, his expression strangely resolute. ‘You want this,’ he said, lowering his hands. ‘Say it.’
Jane stared into his eyes with all the ardent emotions she had kept tightly reined for weeks. She thought of all the ancient frescos and pictures she had seen in the ancient places she had visited, in Greece and Egypt and Rome, of men and women, their bodies locked together, and she decided it was time for her to decide what it was she wanted. This was real. This was happening to her now.
At that moment she wanted so badly for her life to be different, to be daring—perhaps even a bit shocking—to taste all that she had missed. That day on the train he had given her a taste of what it could be like. She wanted another taste. That was what he was offering her now. Could she just reach out and take it? And could she live with the pain afterward, loving him and watching him walk away?
‘Stop talking.’ She recaptured his mouth. ‘Don’t spoil it. I want the same thing you do.’ Her inexperienced fingers began to loosen the buttons on his waistcoat.
Christopher pulled away her hands and did it himself, never taking his eyes from her face. Removing his waistcoat and cravat, he threw them on to one of the stone benches. Impatient to hold her once more, he drew her to his chest and placed his mouth over hers. Sliding her hands through the front of his shirt, Jane slid them over the hard contours of his chest. Removing her lips from his mouth, she lowered her head and kissed his warm flesh. He didn’t move, but she could feel his gaze on her face as she looked up and studied him in the silver light.
He laid her down on his jacket. The dusty floor felt like soft silk beneath her, but she was so wrapped up in the moment that she gave it no thought. She watched as he stripped himself of his clothes and revealed his beautiful male body. It was quite magnificent. Long, graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curve of his chest to the slight concavities of his belly and thighs. For a moment Jane felt her insides lurch, she didn’t know why, and her mouth became dry and in the pit of her stomach something flared.
He was large and powerful, hard and eager, and she had but a moment to admire it before she had scrambled to her feet and he had done the same for her, removing her skirt and bodice—laughing when he peeled the confining trousers she wore beneath over her thighs and cast them aside. Her undergarments, all but her stockings, went the same way and he placed lingering kisses on each new portion of flesh he revealed, breathing in the warm, womanly scent of her. She was mesmerised by his seduction and wouldn’t let herself think how skilful he was in this department. She didn’t want to wonder how often he had done this before. She was the one he was doing it to now.
His warmly glowing, hungering eyes seemed to brand her as he ensnared her gaze before he tore it away and swept it over her body. Jane felt it, uncaring now whether or not he could see the heat in her cheeks and wanting only to be perfect for him.
Had she issued an invitation for him to peruse the sights, Christopher couldn’t have been more eager to respond. Tall and glorious, her body was a lustrous shade of burned honey and polished amber in the wavering blur of the light filtering through the windows into the folly. Her long sleek limbs, sheathed in dark silk stockings, did much to rouse his admiration and desire so that he could barely contain it.
‘Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?’ Christopher murmured huskily.
A smile curved her soft lips as relief washed over her. He didn’t think she was disappointing or plain. He thought she was beautiful. ‘Only you, my lord.’
‘Christopher. My name is Christopher.’
‘Christopher,’ she murmured, liking the sound of it, even though it evoked all the feelings of her lovesick former self.
They lay on the large cape spread over the floor. It wasn’t the most comfortable of beds, but so great was their need that they thought nothing of it. Christopher swept his hand along her thigh as she pressed alongside him. Jane lay in quiescent stillness, indulging in every blissful, delectable delight he stirred within her as he worked his magic upon her womanly softness, and when his mouth claimed her breasts once again, she felt almost consumed by the pleasure he wrought.
The exquisite sweetness of it spread through her body like warm honey, creating a desperate longing that made her ache and unlocking something inside her, releasing all the repressions and restraints she had imposed on herself ever since she had first met him. She uttered a startled gasp at the carnal pleasure as he pressed a kiss to her stomach, feeling the quivering sensations that rippled through her as he continued to trail kisses across her flesh, tasting her skin with his tongue.
His hands moved upwards along her hips, following the curve of her waist, across her ribs to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing light back and forth across the tips. She tilted her head back with a moan, closing her eyes, and her hands tightened convulsively on his shoulders. Then his hands were moving lower and she forgot to breathe as he touched her in that most intimate of places. She jerked against him, feeling hot little shivers race through her body. Shocked by the intimacy of it, she thought she ought to push his hand away, tell him to stop, but she could not. She could not think past the touch of his fingers and the tension that was building in the pit of her stomach.
‘I cannot bear it,’ she gasped, feeling that she was hovering on the brink of something glorious and wonderful as everything inside her seemed to explode in a white-hot flash, sending incredible sensations to every part of her body. ‘Please, Christopher, whatever you are waiting for, I beg you to wait no longer.’
His eyes shone with unmistakable ardour as she felt his weight and strength above her and he overwhelmed her with the power of his body. His face slowly lowered to hers and soon his lips and tongue took possession of hers, demanding, consuming the delectable sweetness until his delicious assault left her feeling faint. Almost consumed by her womanly warmth, he drew her naked body against his, his arms tight about her, her breasts against his chest, his flaunting manhood searching between her open thighs for she was as eager as he.
There was no gentleness in him, nor in her, and when she wrapped her legs about his, his body pierced hers. She moved her hips beneath him.
‘Jane,’ he groaned against her ear, ‘don’t move, for God’s sake.’
‘I’m all right. Truly. Please—don’t stop now.’
She tried to keep still, but it was no use. He was the first man she had known and he knew it, too.
Christopher closed his eyes, glorying in the joy of being at one with her, letting the mindless pleasure overtake him. He was lost, without sight, or hearing, or thought. Wrapping his arms around her, he began to move against her, forcefully now, sinking himself so deep inside her she moaned with the pain of it. His breathing was harsh and ragged as she took away his desperation, his restless and wild longings, serving him, holding him. He took her mouth in a stormy demanding kiss and felt her hands shifting softly over his shoulders, gentling him at the same time her melting body welcomed him, sheathing him, offering them both release.
Jane clung to him, conscious of a heat inside her that she had never known before as he moved slowly, seductively initiating her into the art of love. She was almost delirious with the new sensations and the powerful response of her own body. It seemed to have a will of its own, exquisitely pulsating. Finally she felt Christopher gather her into him when he climaxed, almost sending her over the edge.
Afterwards he held her in his arms, smoothing her trembling body. He kissed her forehead, helpless again to withstand the supple, willing loveliness of her body. He said nothing for a few moments and Jane could hear his ragged breathing against her cheek. It endeared her to him even more, knowing that a woman could still make a man vulnerable.
Christopher pulled back and looked into her face, watching as she slowly opened her eyes. He had never seen her look lovelier than she did at that moment, with her hair spread about her head in lustrous waves, an extraordinary smile of contentment curving her soft lips. One long leg was wrapped across his body. He did not want to lose the feel of her, the warmth of her, the passion of her, not yet.
He touched his lips to
hers and whispered against her mouth, ‘Are you all right?’
‘Perfectly,’ she replied. And she was. She felt no regret, no shame. Just an incredible, overpowering joy that made her feel alive, vibrant, beautiful and absurdly happy. They had pleasured one another and she ached for it to happen again. How wonderful, that making love could do that to a woman. Christopher Chalfont had discovered the woman in her, the latent desire of which she had always known, deep down, that one day she was capable of knowing.
Christopher kissed her once more. Still dazed and enchanted that making love was such a sensuous and wondrous experience, she kissed him deeply, placing her hands on either side of his face.
‘No more, Jane,’ he whispered softly against her lips before rolling away from her. ‘Though God knows it wouldn’t take long for my loins to recover with your wonderful body beneath me. I will stop while the pleasure of this first time is still warm within you. But we must get up and get dressed.’
‘Must we?’ She sighed and stretched, lifting her arms above her head, displaying her proud breasts.
Getting to his feet, he held out his hand for her to do the same. Picking up her clothes, she gathered them to her, for without the warmth of his body, the folly was cold, but just thinking about what had happened was enough to keep her warm. For the first time in her life she felt feminine, completely happy and content with the world and everything in it.
It wasn’t until they were dressed, assisting each other with buttons and the like and Jane was tying her hair back with her ribbon, that Christopher came to his senses, reminding himself of the inevitable consequences of what he had just done.
Looking at Christopher, who was seated on one of the stone benches pulling on his boots, and unable to resist touching him, Jane threaded her fingers through his hair. Not only did she see his body stiffen, she felt it. Immediately she withdrew her hand.
‘Christopher? What is it?’
His boots on, he barely glanced at her as he got to his feet and bent to retrieve the cape, shaking it out. Then he faced her. ‘You must forgive me, Jane. I hurt you. When we came here I had no intention of seducing you.’
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