An Innocent Proposal

by Helen Dickson

  Louisa sighed. “I can’t, I suppose. But Lady Bricknell made it plain that you regard women through a chink in your invisible armour. In fact, if you did not enjoy having fun so much I would advise you to become a monk,” she chided gently. “When something like that happens to a person it’s a bit like falling off a horse. Whereas you have lost your nerve and would no doubt have it shot, others climb right back into the saddle and get on with it.”

  “Like you?” he said softly, referring to the way she had rallied to James Fraser’s rescue the minute James had found himself on the brink of penury.

  “Yes,” she replied calmly, meeting his steady, all-too-knowing gaze. “Like me. Did you love your wife very much?”

  “I thought I did—in fact, for a time she was the centre of my existence. Yet she did not reach my mind or touch me spiritually. I made a mistake—but I had to experience living with her to realise it. I well remember my ecstasy, the wonder of it. I also remember the doubt, the bewilderment that came after, followed by the pain and torment the knowledge of the truth brought me when she was disloyal—and the brutality and the struggle for self-preservation that came when she went.”

  He fell silent, and his eyes fastened on a sudden spark that flamed and danced out of the glowing embers of the fire, but Louisa, glancing sideways at him, thought he did not see it. As she watched him a faint frown seemed to slide over his face like a dark shadow, and again she was made to regret having mentioned his wife.

  “I’m sorry. I—I hope you didn’t mind me mentioning your wife. I always talk too much when I’m excited.”

  He looked at her and met her eyes, staring at her for a moment, and then he shrugged and smiled, the moment of melancholy having passed. He settled his gaze on her face, noticing the way her hair glowed like the dancing flame in the hearth, how it shone with an inner light, making his hands ache to gather it up and feel it slip through his fingers.

  “No. It all happened a long time ago. I have no reason to hide anything. It is better to speak of such things than keep them hidden,” he said, but Louisa saw his eyes held more seriousness than his voice, which told her it still affected him more than he would have her or anyone else know. There was a host of questions she wanted to ask him about his wife—about her relationship with Sir Charles Meredith—but his expression forbade it. She was curious to know what had happened to her and the nature of her betrayal. However, not wishing to probe further into what was obviously an extremely sensitive matter, she declined to ask.

  “But I shall never marry again,” he went on, his words and his eyes conveying a message. “I am not looking for a wife.”

  The message received, Louisa smiled, her eyes teasing when she looked at him, trying to dispel the constraint that was in danger of tainting the atmosphere between them.

  “Especially not when you have already been provided with an heir to leave your ancestral pile in Sussex to?”

  “Precisely,” he smiled, picking up the bait and beginning to relax once more, finding her company both stimulating and charming. “I have an heir in Mark. So perhaps you can understand why I am content to remain as I am, to go my own way and to enjoy being pursued by those who desire the title of Lady Dunstan and the prestige that goes with it.”

  “And always careful to elude capture,” said Louisa softly.

  “Always. You are beginning to know me a little too well, Louisa,” he said, sitting back in his chair and regarding her closely. “However, I have talked a great deal about myself and as yet I know absolutely nothing about you. Who are you, Miss Divine?” he asked softly. “And why do I have this peculiar feeling that you are the one who is being evasive?”

  “Because I am. It’s best this way,” she answered, averting her eyes, beginning to feel uncomfortable beneath his much too penetrating, enquiring gaze, feeling the atmosphere changing between them to one of warm, vibrant intimacy.

  “You are a strange young woman, Louisa. I find your company both pleasurable and enlightening.”

  “Thank you, although I suspect you prefer the company of an intelligent woman—a woman who is a conversationalist rather than one who has nothing to say except yes and no.”

  “Aye,” he laughed, his eyes twinkling. “But there are those whose belief it is that a man is better pleased when a good dinner is placed before him than when his wife spouts Italian or Greek—as my good friend Samuel Johnson has often said.”

  “And who will agree with Milton’s view that woman was created for man,” said Louisa drily.

  Alistair shook his head with a rueful smile. “You are more intelligent than most women of my acquaintance, and if you are not careful you will have me falling in love with a woman’s mind—but her physical attributes cannot be ignored,” he murmured, his gaze languidly sweeping over her, his eyes settling on the gentle mounds of her breasts straining beneath the violet dress, measuring, lingering, a slow smile curving his lips.

  The soft sincerity in his voice, the tone of it, rippled over Louisa’s skin and took her breath away; behind the words she detected an intractable force, coercing, seducing, and she was drawn to it, remembering her purpose for being there. She frantically tried to think of something to say, something light that would restore the easy camaraderie and repartee of a moment before, but it was beyond her wit to do that and so she could only stare at him and draw a long, shaking breath.

  Alistair smiled. “You are not only beautiful and clever but mysterious also. Allow me to give you a word of advice. Be careful what you express with your eyes, Louisa. They are far too eloquent. Being a man of the world, I am quick to interpret their language. I may know nothing concerning your background but, in the short time we have known each other, I have come to know a great deal about you as a person—and by tomorrow morning I hope to know a good deal more.

  “In your eagerness to relieve Mr Fraser of his desperate plight you have elected to sell yourself to set the matter right. My instinct tells me that such behaviour is not your forte, and, if I were the gentleman I am reputed to be, I would bow before your admirable sacrifice and send you away unsullied, clutching Mr Fraser’s IOU. Yet it puzzles me to know you are willing to forfeit something of such high value, merely to save Mr Fraser’s hide, so I ask myself, why should I not avail myself of your offer and sample for one night the sweet pleasures to be gained from it? No doubt I will degenerate still more from what I am already, but I think I can live with that.”

  Slowly he rose from his chair and came to stand in front of her, looking down at her. “If I were to return Mr Fraser’s IOU to you without condition, would you still wish to leave?”

  His voice was low, with a husky rasp, and his eyes held Louisa’s captive, gleaming in the dim light. The effect of his warmly intimate expression made her heart turn over. She knew she should say yes, that she didn’t want to stay, but his potent virility was acting like a drug to her senses, the tug of his voice, his eyes too strong for her to resist. Sensations of unexpected pleasure washed over her, making her want to stay, making it impossible for her to leave. She realised it was no longer possible to put a stop to what she had so dangerously begun—and did she want to? she asked herself. The answer was clear—no, she didn’t, and what she felt had nothing to do with James or anyone else.

  What was happening to her? She had never felt like this, but she recognised the feeling. It was happiness, a feeling she had not felt in a long time, and never with such warmth, such intensity. Alistair took her hand and pressed it gently, seeing the answer in her eyes.

  “I think we should continue this conversation in more comfortable surroundings, don’t you, Louisa?” he said. “Come. Let us retire to the bedroom, where neither conscience, Mr Fraser, nor Marianne will intrude tonight.”

  Louisa took little notice of the magnificence of the bedroom, with its many exquisite objects and works of art, of the tasteful furniture, and thick carpets into which her feet sank. The only thing she was conscious of was the huge bed holding centre stage—waiting—a
nd the man she was to share it with in so little time.

  Slowly Alistair moved towards her, towering over her, his physical presence rendering her weak. In the soft glow of the candlelight her amber eyes were huge, like those of a wide-eyed kitten, luminous and infinitely lovely. She ran her tongue over her lip, unconsciously teasing.

  “This,” he said, glorying in the tender passion in her eyes, feeling the heat flame in his belly as he drew aside the curtain of her hair and placed a kiss in the warm, sweet-scented nape of her neck, “is the moment I’ve been thinking of ever since I first saw you.”

  As his lips trailed over her flesh, with a gasp of exquisite pleasure she threw her head back and closed her eyes. “I cannot believe this is happening,” she breathed softly. “I am heading for something I cannot possibly know how to handle.”

  “Then I think it’s about time you learnt,” he replied softly, seductively.

  The feel of Alistair’s lips was strange, and the hot, melting unfamiliarity of it made Louisa gasp again, causing a natural hunger to stir deep within her young and healthy body. Nothing existed but this man and the husky timbre of his voice and his hot, dark eyes upon her. The next moment she was in his arms, the pressure increasing as they tightened around her and he bent his head, his sensual mouth claiming hers in a kiss of violent tenderness.

  Louisa felt all her resistance disintegrate as she returned his kiss with all her innocent, unselfish ardour, feeling his hands moulding her close. Slowly his hands rose and caressed the nape of her neck, his splayed fingers running through her glorious mane of golden hair.

  Lost in the stormy kiss, Louisa was not at first aware when his fingers began to pull at the tiny buttons up the back of her dress, but when she realised what he was doing a wave of panic swept over her. Pulling away slightly, she opened her eyes, warmth flaring in the pit of her stomach at his scorching look.

  “Wait,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  Seeing the apprehension in her eyes, her uncertainty, Alistair felt a moment of puzzlement, but then he smiled slowly. “What do you think I’m doing? Someone has to remove your clothes and—when the need arises—I make a perfect lady’s maid.”

  Realising he must not suspect her innocence, Louisa’s lips trembled into a smile. “I usually disrobe myself, but if you insist…”

  “I do,” he murmured.

  Louisa had so little knowledge or experience of the intimacies that took place between men and women. She was a complete novice. In her isolation at Bierlow there had been no stolen kisses or embraces for her, and now, suddenly, knowing she was on the brink of the unknown, for the first time in her life, her pulses began to race dangerously.

  She watched with fascination as Alistair unfastened her dress, letting it slide down over her hips, and in a moment he had removed her undergarments with an ease which told her it was not the first time he had undressed a woman. She heard his quick intake of breath as her body was slowly revealed to him, his eyes fastening hungrily on her naked beauty. Her skin was white and cream and gloriously lovely, and he was bewitched, helpless to resist temptation.

  Louisa drew in a rapid breath, enthralled by what was happening to her—by her own nakedness, and his, after he had removed his clothes unselfconsciously, to reveal the muscled, well-honed body of an athlete. She flushed and tried to avoid looking at his manhood, and Alistair smiled, charmed, and bent his head, his lips tracing the line of her face, her long, graceful neck, like a flutter of wings, causing the blood to pound through her veins with the heat of desire, causing sensations to ripple through her from somewhere unknown, and she sighed in infinite pleasure.

  Immediately passion flared between them and suddenly they were on the bed, although she could not remember how they came to be there, with his mouth moving lingeringly over hers, unable to stifle a gasp when his lips left hers and took possession of her breast. Never would she have suspected that the feel of a man’s lips on such a secret part of her body could create such incredible pleasure.

  By degrees she pressed closer to him and quivers coursed through her. She looked into the smouldering darkness of his eyes above her as he continued to kiss her, his desire growing stronger. She smiled enticingly, arching her neck while he kissed the white, soft flesh of her throat, feeling like an escaped bird which had been caged too long as she allowed herself the freedom of abandonment. Hungrily he caressed the slender outline of her body, cupping her breasts, touching her here, caressing and kissing her there, so that no part of her escaped, her sighs and moans feeding his ardour, fuelling his passion.

  She moved sensuously among the sheets, as if to evade him. Desire flared in Alistair, and, reaching out, he caught her in his arms and kissed her fiercely, his hands moving through the sheets to embrace her slim form, feeling her breasts, taut and pressed against him. He thrilled to her, his hands sliding lower to search and caress her womanhood. Louisa’s instinct at such an intimate invasion was to object, to thrust him away, but he filled her with such exquisite promise as he continued to stroke, to arouse her, that she moved her hips instinctively against him, pressing, arching herself closer, as if an unknown force was compelling her.

  Alistair’s breath quickened against her throat as he began to surrender to a primitive and powerful, desperate need that became a torment inside, the restraint he had shown so far vanishing in his desire to possess the woman writhing beneath him, her hands soft as they moved feverishly over the muscles of his shoulders, down his long, hard back, lingering on his narrow waist and taut hips.

  Spurred on by the hot, demanding feel of his lips, vibrantly aware of his raging desire, Louisa’s response was unrestrained. She was engulfed by a burning need, an exploding mass of feeling, everything but the present obliterated from her mind as her body became a stranger to her and developed a life of its own. She moaned, her hands tangled in his hair, her back arching in helpless surrender. Aware of his arousal, she moved of her own accord beneath him, urging him. They came together almost instantly and with a violence so unexpected that Alistair did not see the tears that sprang to her eyes or the pain that crossed her face as she turned her head away—but the few seconds of pain were lost in what came after.

  As Alistair moved inside her, Louisa felt something wild and primitive growing, something so wonderful that her consciousness receded as she unwittingly drove him to unparalleled agonies of desire, and just as she thought she must cry out, ask him to stop, the sheer pleasure at being with him took her over. Their need for each other overwhelmed them, and Louisa’s body, released at last from its long-held virginity, became insatiable for his love. Her mind and all her anxieties seemed to dissolve so that she was aware of him and only him as he controlled all her senses. She seemed to be hurtling through space where there was no past, no future, no responsibilities, only this moment.

  Her passion devastated Alistair, and when they lay spent, their bodies entwined in moisture, the hot climactic world that had held them in its grip began to subside. Louisa’s hair spilled over them both like a silken sheet, and he lifted it off her face, seeing that her expression was one of peace and perfect tranquillity.

  When she opened her eyes she seemed to be awaking from a deep sleep, and her eyes were huge and warm with passion. Alistair was lying on his side, looking at her in wonder, his face strangely calm and his dark head supported on one fist, the waving locks of his hair drooping over his moist brow. He kissed her lightly, lovingly, and she stretched languidly like a kitten, moving her body into the curve of his and closing her eyes.

  “Don’t imagine you’re going to sleep,” Alistair breathed huskily, nuzzling her ear. “I have not done with you yet.”

  Her lips curving in a soft smile, Louisa looked up at him. He noticed that her eyes had taken on a peculiar deep lustre and that her skin, like his own, was damp and glowed with an inner fire. She sighed, feeling neither shame nor guilt. Raising her hand and combing her fingers through his hair, she grasped a handful and pulled his head down to hers
, reaching for his mouth with her own, and he responded, feeling the softness of her lips, her body beginning to move against his with an inviting confusion of invitation and denial.

  Again they made love, but now slowly, intently, and with a tenderness which was beyond anything either of them had ever known. Alistair, somewhat surprised to find Louisa naive and unskilled in the arts of making love, introduced her to new fields of pleasure, teaching her how to give him pleasure, how to reach fulfilment, teaching her, too, some of the games lovers played, watching as he awakened her into a tantalising creature who breathed sensuality, whose body pulsated with fire.

  Amazed by her own sensuality, Louisa allowed him to guide her, becoming lulled into a sense of inertia, his lovemaking sending her to another place. Her body arched against the man who held her, moved with her, firmly, gently, carrying her to unexpected delights, until, in a state of complete exhaustion, they slept.

  When Louisa awoke she stretched and raised her sleepy eyelids, disappointed not to find Alistair still beside her. She flushed with embarrassment when she remembered what had occurred between them during the night, finding it curious that she should feel no sense of shame or regret at what she had done. She sighed, stretching languorously, feeling sexually awakened, and free of ignorance and anxiety.

  She wanted to shout her bliss to the world. Instead, because she had only allowed herself this one night, she would have to cultivate her secrecy, but she would be haunted by the sense that she would never again know such passion, such ecstasy.

  At that moment the door opened and Alistair walked in, fully dressed. Louisa raised herself onto one elbow, her hair tumbling about her shoulders and her lips breaking into a soft smile of welcome. She looked lovely, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes warm and softly seductive and inviting, all of which Alistair failed to notice, being in the grip of an ice-cold, venomous rage.

  The smile froze on Louisa’s lips when she saw his expression as he came to stand over her, causing her to shrink before his towering, masculine presence and lofty demeanour. His face as he stood looking down at her was frightening, fixedly calm, and yet alight with a cold flame of rage and filled with a dark contempt. Instinctively, like a small child she drew a loose sheet over her nakedness, feeling something inside her curl up and die when she met his eyes, unable to see anything of her lover of the night. Her gaze went to his hand, seeing that he was holding a piece of paper in his fingers, which she recognised as James’s IOU. With a savage gesture he thrust it at her.