Liberty for Paul

by Rose Gordon

  His hand came up and he started stroking the back of her wrist with one lone finger. His movements were slow and sure with no set pattern. Her fingers stilled on his lips as her body trembled from his scorching touch. He kissed the fingers that she held at his mouth. First, all at the same time, then he grabbed her wrist and held it still while he kissed each fingertip separately. He lowered her hand and bent his head to her parted lips before taking them again.

  Mr. Daltry’s kisses had been gentle and coaxing before, but this time it was different, demanding. He clasped her face between his hands, using his thumbs to stroke her cheeks as his mouth plundered hers. Liberty’s hands came up around his neck and sank into his thick, black hair. Twirling her fingers into the soft mass, she let out a gasp when his tongue touched hers.

  She felt herself being lowered backwards to the settee and offered no protest to his mechanisms. Leaving his hair, she moved her hands to his face. She was in awe of how soft the skin over such a hard ridge could be so smooth as she traced the edges of his cheekbones. He pulled back and she blinked up at him. He looked just as unsure as she felt. He pulled his hands away and went to sit back up. Feeling bereft at the absence of his hands, she grabbed his wrists. “Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Stay. Touch me.”

  His eyes went wide and she thought he’d refuse and walk away. But he didn’t. He only swallowed hard and asked, “Where?”

  She brought his hands to the hard plane in the center of her chest. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

  He groaned and seemed to need no more encouragement. His hands started to do a slow and thorough investigation of the top of her chest. His fingers left a searing trail as they traveled along her collarbone and the top of her sternum. Becoming bolder, he leaned down and dropped hot, searing kisses along the same paths his fingers had just taken. She shivered in delight when placed an openmouthed kissed on her chest just above that atrocious gold bow.

  His eyes flickered up to her in a silent question, and she lowered her lashes in response, hoping he’d understand. She shivered again when she felt his fingers pull the end of the chord, destroying the bow and loosening her bodice. His hands worked the laces, loosening them as he went. His hands traveled away from the center of her bodice and took hold of the shoulder straps. Very slowly, he pushed her right strap to the edge of her shoulder, kissing each quarter-inch of skin he exposed along the way. When the strap had fallen loose, he kissed her bare shoulder and back to his starting place, this time with an open mouth. She gasped when he dipped his tongue into the hollow right above her clavicle before repeating the tantalizing process on the other side.

  When he’d gotten her left sleeve down and had kissed the top of her chest until she thought she’d go insane if he didn’t stop, he looked up at her. “Open your eyes,” he whispered. When she complied, he swallowed and quietly asked, “Are you sure?”

  She scanned his taut face. He looked to be struggling with her decision just as much as she was. When she saw his eyes, her mind relaxed and she knew what she wanted. She’d seen that look before. That was the look of hunger and desire. She’d seen it many times, just never meant for her. That was the difference. This man desired her. No one else, just her; and though she knew she shouldn’t, she desired him, too. “Yes,” she whispered back.

  His lashes lowered and his shaky hands pulled her bodice apart. With how low the bodice on her dress was cut she hadn’t been able to wear a chemise, only her corset. Which was now exposed to Mr. Daltry’s hungry gaze. She swallowed as he put his left elbow next to her head and rested his head onto his fisted hand, looking straight at her chest. He moved his free hand up to her chest and lightly skimmed the planes and slopes with the ends of his fingers.

  He flickered his gaze to her, though she couldn’t see it through her closed eyes, she could feel it. He then used his fingers to trace the outline of left breast, followed by the right, causing them both to swell with anticipation.

  She knew she should be embarrassed. She was as good as topless with a stranger in her sister’s sitting room. Yet, she wasn’t. Not with him. She just couldn’t be.

  His hand moved to the edge of the cup on her corset and she held her breath when it slipped inside and squeezed her tender breast. She felt her nipple tauten against his palm and turned her head to the side in pleasure at the sensation of his rough palm chafing her.

  “Can we loosen this?” he asked, his voice uneven and his breathing ragged.

  “In the back,” she whispered, “just pull the string at the top.” She arched up so he could reach under her and untie the string that would loosen her stays.

  He untied the string and she felt the cups fall loose, exposing her breasts to his consuming gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he rasped, bringing his hand back to her naked breast.

  “I’m sure you say that to all your lovers,” she blurted.

  “Never,” he said, shaking his head. “Only you.”

  He said something else, but she didn’t hear it, she couldn’t hear anything when he was sending waves of pleasure through her body like this. He continued to shape her left breast with firm and tender squeezes while he bent his head to the breast closest to him and feathered kisses on her skin, causing it to tingle. Holding her nipple between his thumb and index finger, he gave it a light squeeze while his lips placed a gentle kiss on her other pebbled peak. She sighed and arched her back in pleasure.

  His hand spread to cup her swollen breast while his mouth continued its wicked exploration of the other. His lips parted over the tip of her breast before covering it. She cried out in pleasure when his tongue flicked, then circled the rigid peak. His hand left her breast and moved to the center of her chest where he used one of his long, blunt-tipped fingers to move as if spelling out a message while his mouth continued laving her.

  His mouth released her breast and blew a small puff of warm air over the tip, making her shiver. “Would you do it again?” she asked when she was sure he was looking at her. It was hard to see anything anymore now that the moon had slipped behind a group of trees.

  She felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, before he said, “If it’s what the lady wishes, I shall be happy to comply.” Then he bent his head to her other breast.

  “I didn’t mean that,” she said with a pleasure-induced sigh.

  He released her and moved his head up to look at her. “Did I mistake your pleasure?” he asked, his voice hoarse, unsure.

  “No, not at all,” she assured him, reaching up to stroke his silky hair. “I liked it very much. But I missed the letters you wrote. Would you do it again, please?”

  “Oh,” he said, comprehension dawning. He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry,” he said before he turned his head to the side and planted a searing kiss in her palm.

  Disappointment at never knowing the identity of those elusive letters cut through the haze of lust and desire that had surrounded itself around her, but a door slamming not so far away, made it shatter. Eyes wide, she asked, “Did you hear something?”

  She felt his head nod against her hand. “I think it came from the room right next to us. Whose room is that?”

  Panic seized her chest. “Brooke and Andrew’s,” she said quickly, not caring she had referred to her brother-in-law so informally in Mr. Daltry’s presence.

  “That door connects the two rooms, doesn’t it,” he said, pointing a door in the middle of the wall that ran adjacent to her sister’s room.

  She gulped, then nodded. The muffled sounds of voices could be heard through the wall. The very real possibility that someone could come walking through that door and find them at any minute terrified her. “We have to get out of here,” she hissed, trying to scramble from his grasp.

  “All right,” he said, helping her to her feet. “How do I get out of the house?”

  “Leave this room and go to the right. Walk down to the end of the hall, then go left and go down the servants stairs. At the bottom there’ll be a back door on the right,” she said, trying to brin
g her dress up.

  “Do you need any help,” he asked, grabbing his cloak.

  “Can you do my corset?” she asked hopefully.

  “This might shock you, but I’m not all that familiar with ladies clothing,” he said sheepishly. “I suppose I just have to retie it, right? Hold on a second, and I’ll try.” He grabbed the loose strings on the back of her corset and started trying to tie it.

  She smiled at his confession. “And here I thought all men knew how women’s clothing worked,” she teased.

  “No, most are more concerned with getting a woman out of her gown, not so much with getting her back into it,” he said, tying the strings.

  “And are you only interested in getting a woman out?”

  “Would I be tying up your corset if that were the case?” he asked, taking a step back to look at his handiwork.

  “No, I suppose not. You didn’t do it right, I’m afraid.” She turned around to show him that when she pulled up her bodice, she couldn’t get it to close because her corset wasn’t tight enough and her breasts were too big.

  “It’s the effort that counts, right?” he said with a roguish smile she could barely see. “Here,” he said, grabbing his cape, “drape this over the front of you and walk to your room”

  She grabbed the cape and tried to cover up the best she could with it. It was useless though. With her shoulder straps stuck in the middle of her upper arm and not budging when she tried to yank them up, she had limited mobility. When she’d tried to maneuver the cape in a way to get the cloth to just rest on her shoulders, it would fall down because it was too heavy, and expose her barely covered breasts and gaping bodice. After the third attempt, she let it slide to the floor and mumbled, “I suppose I’ll just have to go like this. Hopefully, nobody will see me.”

  Holding his sword and picking up his cape, he walked with her to the door that led to the hallway. He handed her his sword and cape and said, “Hold these. Which room is yours?”

  “Wh—what are you planning to do?” she asked cautiously as she watched him peek his head out the door to see if there was anyone in the hallway.

  “What does it look like? I’m going to carry you. Now, which room is yours?”

  She swallowed a nervous bubble that had formed in her throat and said, “Second door on the left.”

  “Very well.” He nodded and reached an arm around her shoulder and the one around her knees, then scooped her up. Once he got her settled in his arms, he whispered, “Use the cape to cover up anything you don’t want seen.”

  Without a second’s hesitation, she brought the cape all the way up to the top of her head to cover her face as well as her gaping bodice. “I think they’d still recognize you,” he said in a low tone, his chest rumbling with a low chuckle.

  She snapped the cloak down off her face. “What do you mean?” she asked with wide, curious eyes.

  He glanced at her feet. “The bottom of your dress and slippers are still exposed. They’ll know you’re a woman, not some parcel for delivery.”

  “That’s all right. They won’t know my identity. They’ll just think I’m some doxy you found at the ball,” she said, flashing him a smile then covering her head again.

  Slipping quietly from the room, he carried her down to hers. While his strong hands held her tightly to him, her ear rested against his heart and listened to its strong and steady beat as it sounded in time with his sure steps.

  Once they crossed the threshold of her room, he paused for a moment before carrying her to the bed. Gently placing her on the bed, he took a few steps back and she instantly missed the heat of his large body. Lowering the cape, her eyes were drawn to the fire that was already blazing in the hearth. Mr. Daltry, stood next to it with his hands in his pants pockets, looking rather serious. “I should probably go now,” he said after minute.

  She bit her lip and looked away. “Could you help me out of my dress?” she whispered.

  ***

  Paul’s hands fisted inside his pockets. She was going to let a stranger undress her? “I don’t think that’s wise,” he replied with a calm he didn’t feel.

  She looked at him innocently. “Please. I can’t get it off myself and I’d be embarrassed to go find someone else to help me.”

  Paul closed his eyes. Was she so innocent and naïve that she didn’t understand what her suggestion might be interpreted as? Had she asked any other man, he would have taken it as an opportunity to have his way with her. Did she not realize that? Or did she just not care? Bile rose in his throat again. He knew his wife didn’t hold him in high esteem to begin with, but tonight proved she likely held him in no esteem at all.

  “Please,” she repeated weakly.

  “Fine,” he agreed savagely. “But I’m only undoing the fastenings to help it come off, then I’m turning around while you take it off.” Turning around? Did he really just say that? He should have said “leaving”.

  She stood up and came to stand in front of him. His fingers went to work on all the little ties and clasps that held her gown and corset in place. His moves were quick and methodical, not wanting to offer her any tenderness or love as he went about his work. Taking care not to touch or look at any exposed skin, he undid the last tie and walked away to go stand in front of her vanity while she scurried behind her screen.

  His hand reached into his pocket again and felt the slip of paper he’d seen lying on Liberty’s bed addressed to the two of them. Good thing she’d had that cape over her eyes or she might have seen it and the whole thing been exposed. It was too late now to expose his role. If he did, there would be no way she’d forgive him. It would be better to just follow his original plan of going to fetch her from Elizabeth’s in a few days and try to woo her. Although now, thanks to himself, that would be nearly impossible. She might come to like him well enough as himself, but she’d always have her night of passion with the mysterious Tom Daltry. He clenched his fist tighter and crumpled the note.

  Stepping closer to the vanity, his eyes caught on a familiar object: her journal. She’d taken it to Elizabeth’s? He would have thought she’d left it since she was obviously very upset with him when she left. Why would she want to take something he’d given her? Quickly, he flipped it open and thumbed through to look at the dates. His fingers stopped and a chill ran through him when he reached a date from last week and noticed there were entries. He flipped a few more pages and saw more entries. There were entries for every single day since she’d been gone. He wanted to read them. He wanted to know what or who had gotten her to smile. He knew the entries had to be true. She’d had no reason to make stuff up since he wasn’t there to read them. His hopes lifted slightly. Maybe there was a chance for him.

  Hearing her come from behind the screen, he quickly shut the book and turned to face her. He’d seen her countless times in her nightgown since they’d married and he’d starting bringing up her bath water each morning. But this time it was different. The way she stood in front of the fire in her paper thin nightgown made his blood simmer. His gaze swept her from the top of her head to the pink ends of her toes that were poking out the bottom. Desire thrummed through him and he had to look away. He had no right to take her innocence. He may be her husband, but she didn’t know that. Perhaps he was wrong to kiss and caress her in the other room. Here, in this room, he’d do the right thing and keeps his hands to himself.

  The awkward silence was broken when he heard her pad over to her window. “Looks like everyone’s gone home,” she said softly.

  “Yes, I figured as much when we heard your cousin and her husband go into their room,” he said evenly.

  “Oh,” she said, blinking owlishly. “I wonder what time it is.”

  He scanned the room for a clock and didn’t see one. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Early morning, I expect. I don’t know beyond that, I haven’t a watch.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I do.” She rushed over to where he stood and started digging in her reticule.

  Paul couldn
’t stop himself from inhaling her scent once more while she stood next to him. “I didn’t realize women carried watches in their reticules,” he said inanely to distract himself from her.

  She laughed. “Most pin them on their bodice, actually. However, I left that one at home and the one I have with me isn’t the kind one pins to their clothing,” she said as she pulled out a golden pocket watch with a long gold chain.

  His eyes were trained on her delicate fingers as they turned it over to undo the latch. But before she could get it open, his eyes locked on the crest that was engraved on the top and his heart beat escalated. He hadn’t lost his watch after all. She’d taken it. Why? “Where did you get that,” he asked raggedly, turning his head so she would see his face and figure out why he was so interested.

  “It’s his,” she said simply without seeming to recognize his stiff posture.

  Her fingers continued to fruitlessly work the fastening and he rolled his eyes. Did she not realize that it didn’t even work? Losing his patience at her lack of getting the blasted thing open, he jerked it from her hands. “Be careful with that,” she snapped. “It cost me six weeks worth of wages to get it fixed.”

  “Fixed?” he asked sharply, his fingers stilled.

  “Yes, fixed,” she said, turning her head away. “As it turns out, I…uh…inadvertently broke it.”

  “I see,” he drawled.

  She rolled her eyes. “I doubt it. To quote the Duke of Gateway, I bungled it badly. Anyway, he helped me find a jeweler who was able to repair it. I almost fainted when I saw the bill.”

  His stomach lurched. “Did Gateway pay it for you?” he asked with a sharp edge to his voice. Was she involved in a romantic way with the duke that would lead to him agreeing to pay her jeweler’s bill?

  “No,” she said, grabbing the watch back. She fiddled with the latch again and finally got it to open. “He only tried to pay for the chain since it was he who asked the jeweler to add it, but I refused. I wanted to pay for everything, even if it cost me six weeks of wages.”