Hint of Desire (The Desire Series)

by Lavinia Kent

  Then Arthur heard a flurry of footmen in the front hall. Curious, he pulled open the door. Three footmen straightened their coats, while the fourth, Thompson, serving as his butler while Jeffers remained at Blythemoor, straightened his cravat.

  Thompson scurried over to him. “Your grace, I didn’t realize you’d returned. There’s a carriage at the gate, one of yours. Why would somebody travel at this hour?”

  Sudden worry creased his brow. Had something happened to Lily, to Simon? No, in that case, they would have sent a rider, not a carriage.

  “Should we open the door to them?”

  “If it is my carriage, of course, you should let them in. I assume the grooms are ready?”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  Arthur leaned against the doorway, feeling removed from the flurry of activity before him. He had some interest in what would prompt his carriage to arrive at this hour, but in all truth it was probably one of his crazy aunts making liberal use of his crest. Maybe Lady Smythe-Burke had tired of Blythemoor – not enough meddling for her there. It wouldn’t be the first time. Only she would arrive after nightfall.

  The wide doors flew open, and there was a bustle of activity before a pint-size bundle of red, draped in a heavy fur, came flying into his arms.

  “Oh, Arthur, I am so glad you are at home. Wait till I tell you what has happened.” Lily proceeded to brush a soft kiss across his lips.

  “Lily!” Joy rose within him at the sight of her, the scent of her, the feel of her. She must have read his letters, understood all he had said and left unsaid. He clasped her tightly, reveling in the scents of lavender and musk that tickled his nostrils.

  Then he raised his head and caught sight of the frantic look on Nanny and Thompson’s faces. He straightened quickly, brushing his crumpled hair back. He set Lily slightly apart from him.

  “What are you doing here?” He tried to sound aloof and formal, but knew he couldn’t quite dampen the smile that curled at the corner of his lips.

  Lily looked startled. She smiled back at him, but did not meet his eyes. “Why, I am here because you sent for me. You must mean, why am I here now, in the middle of the night? You probably thought we wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.”

  “I sent for you? No, my dear, I assure you I did not.”

  He should be strict with her, but she looked so young and sweet with her hair rumpled from the ride, and obviously still not fully awake. She must have devised a plan to sneak around his prohibition on her presence in London, unable to resist the secret promise of his letters.

  “But you did! You said unfortunate happenings required my presence. The note was brief but quite clear.”

  “I wrote no such message. I penned you several letters during my time here, none of which is as you describe. I indicated my strong and urgent desire to return to you – at Blythemoor.” Arthur ran a finger up her wrist and felt her shiver at his touch. “It is not safe for you here.”

  Lady Smythe-Burke had followed Lily in and, overhearing their words, gave a not very muffled, “Hurrumph. Indeed.”

  Arthur lifted his eyebrow at Lily.

  “Well,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Do you remember those bandits you thought had attacked me? This time – they did.” She finally looked back up at him. “But, I have other more important news.”

  Arthur held his breath and waited for her to say more. A chill settled at the base of his spine. She’d been attacked. It was what he had feared. He glanced back at Nanny, who cuddled a sleeping Simon in her arms.

  “I suggest you put the young lord to bed. The nursery’s not been aired out, but I am sure Thompson can find some way to accommodate you.” He nodded to the butler, who led Nanny up the stairs.

  For once Lady Smythe-Burke followed his unspoken direction. “I think I’ll head up too. Your wife will have to explain it all. I wasn’t allowed a part.” She glared at Lily. “I am sure a room can found for me.” She sailed up the stairs.

  Arthur glanced at the remaining footmen and they went scurrying.

  “Now, my wife, would you rather join me in the library to explain matters, or should I show you upstairs? Either way, I intend to hear the full story.”

  He waited for her to demur, to explain that she was too tired to talk. Instead, she turned back into his arms and rested her face softly against his chest, as if taking sustenance from his heartbeat.

  “Oh, Arthur, I was so frightened. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I was going to die. And Simon, I was terrified for Simon. Who knows what they would have done to him!”

  Arthur wrapped his arms around her carefully. He wanted to keep drawing her to himself, until nothing separated them. He cuddled her in his arms, trying to subdue her trembling.

  “You’re safe, now, my little one. Everything is fine.”

  “Yes, that is what’s important. And I do think that upstairs is the best place for our further discussion.” Lily nodded agreement into his chest. “You’ll need to show me which is your room. I am sure the duchess’s chambers haven’t been aired yet.”

  He swallowed and struggled for calm. He was delighted to have Lily here, but dreaded the coming night. He wasn’t sure that he was up to maintaining the iron control necessary to sleep beside her yet again.

  With unsure feet, he followed her up the stairs.

  “What do you mean it’s the brandy?” Arthur strove to contain the mixture of disbelief and hope that his voice betrayed.

  “I tried to drink some of your brandy, while you were away. It was like taking a step back in time. The moment the taste filled my mouth, I could feel Worthington about me. It was just as if he were in the room. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before.”

  “I am not sure I understand.”

  “I am not sure I understand it either. All I know is whenever I smell brandy, or taste it, it brings back all the horror.”

  “Why didn’t you realize this before?”

  “I don’t know. I never liked spirits, but I just never realized why. Even the taste of wine sometimes made me feel a little ill. It’s why I never drank much. But I was never near enough to really smell brandy . . . until we kissed. Then it caught me unawares and threw me into the nightmare.”

  “Are you saying . . . that you think . . .”

  “Yes, Arthur, I don’t think it was the kissing or the touching that caused my fears. I think it was always the taste of brandy on your lips. I thought about it and realized that every time I . . . stopped . . . it was when you’d had a drink. I was fine up until that point.”

  “Are you sure? I can’t remember what happened every time, but I do remember in the summerhouse I took a drink. You seemed ready to bolt, and I wanted to slow down. Instead, when I came back to you, you were almost in hysterics.”

  “Yes.” She reached and took his hand, clasping it between hers. “I can remember being suddenly overcome by the taste of Worthington, the smell of him. Only it wasn’t him – it was the brandy. It was always the brandy.”

  “You do realize there is only one way to test your theory.”

  She smiled up at him. “I can certainly think of one test. Do you think you can manage it?”

  “Yes. I believe I am able. The question, my sweet duchess, is, are you? I know it’s been a long day of travel for you, leaving aside your adventures with those brigands.”

  “Forgive me.” Still holding his hand, she rose beside him, lightly pressing her body against his. “I am much more interested in adventures to come than in those gone by. Although, I do feel a trifle weary. Perhaps I should lie down. Should I call for a maid or do you think you can help me with my gown?”

  Arthur had plenty of experience with the mysterious fastenings of ladies’ gowns, but as Lily pressed herself against him he felt his fingers turn to thumbs. Trying to prevent himself from ripping Lily’s gown from her body, he slowly turned her until her soft buttocks pressed against his thighs. He could feel himself swell as he carefully began to work her laces.

 
Within seconds her dress was on the floor and she was clad only in the thinnest of chemises, a light corset and stockings. She stepped away from him then and, turning, smiled up at him.

  Her fingers went to the front of her corset. He resisted reaching out as she slowly released the first hook and then the second. As more and more of her lush flesh revealed itself to him, he could not resist reaching out to stroke. She shivered beneath his touch, almost causing him to lose control. This surpassed his most fevered dreams.

  The corset dropped to the floor. She was so beautiful, so perfect. He’d seen her before, but now shielded only by the sheerest cotton of her chemise she was a seraph come to life. It was hard to breathe. It was almost painful.

  She walked past him towards the bed, her hips swaying with a rhythm older than time. She was Eve tempting him beyond endurance. It was all he could do not to chase after her and throw her onto the bed.

  Slowly, he unbuttoned his white shirt.

  He must take this slowly. He could not risk another disappointment. He closed his eyes and fought his raging demons of desire.

  “Is there something wrong? Do I lack in some way?” Her soft voice called to him.

  “You lack nothing. You are everything I dream of, but I fear your hesitation, your withdrawal. Even knowing it was the brandy that brought on your fears, I am frightened. I need to regain control, to move slowly. I do not wish to frighten you.”

  She laughed. “I never imagined you would be the one afraid. Certainly, I am not.”

  She moved towards him. Her soft breath tickled his breast. For a moment there was nothing but the sigh of each exhalation, then, slowly, she pressed her lips against his chest, nibbling patterns of yearning into his soul. “I am uncertain, but not afraid. You have shown me places where I have never been before, places where I am unsure of my footing. I am eager to revisit them. Will you show me?”

  Unable to withstand her advances, he finally drew her into a long, passionate kiss, releasing the fires he had fought so hard to contain. As her tongue leapt to meet his, he allowed himself one glorious moment of hope that this was the moment satisfaction would be his. The time for merging had come.

  Then, as her knowing fingers sought the buttons of his trousers, he pushed her gently away.

  His chest heaved with the effort. “Don’t. You’ll push me past all restraint. I want to be sure I bring you along slowly, give you time to prepare. I still fear that you are wrong – that the fear will come. I only want to do what you desire.”

  “You only want what I desire. What do I need to do to show you what I desire? I kiss you. I pet you. I bare myself before you, as I have bared myself before no man, and still you push me away.” She lowered her eyes, but continued. “I shudder, ache, and burn for you. I don’t know what you want. How am I supposed to demonstrate this desire that you speak of?”

  It was an ambush. One moment he battled for self-control, and his whole world had spun on its axis. Now, Lily desired him, burned for him. Hardly daring to believe what her lips said, he moved towards her. She reclined against the edge of the bed. As he approached, she drew herself upright and released the ribbon holding her chemise. It pooled about her feet, leaving her almost naked for his viewing. He could sense her hesitancy and her fingers traced restlessly over the brocade of the couch. Only her stockings with their rose-embellished garters still clothed her.

  Almost bursting at her absolute perfection, he knelt before her, his eyes level with the soft bed of dark curls. Her restless fingers moved forward to shield her from his gaze, but then drew slowly back.

  “Are you sure?” He wanted to bite back the words as soon as they were said. What fool questioned such fortune?

  She stroked a hand through his hair. “I must admit to some fear that I’ll close my eyes and see Worthington, but as long as they’re open I see only you. I will never be more sure than I am now. I didn’t know a man could be so stubborn.”

  He trailed his fingers up her leg to the edge of the garter. He slipped a fingertip under, reveling in the softness of her skin. She shifted against him, her breaths unsteady.

  “Let me know if I go too fast. I don’t want to do anything that frightens you. But now I think we need to remove these. We do want you comfortable.” His rasping undertone deepened the meaning of the words.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I do want to be . . . comfortable.”

  Arthur untied the garter and rolled the stocking down her firm thigh, noting each spot that caused her to sigh. He then repeated the gesture with the other, lingering over each erotic point. Her soft sighs of pleasure were his reward.

  Once she stood bare before him, he eased her back onto the bed, drawing her down. He moved up beside her, but stayed on his knees. He moved between her legs, eyes fastened on the glistening folds before him. Again, her hand darted down to shield and then was slowly withdrawn as she fought her own battles.

  He blew softly across her dark curls, watching her body quiver with each breath. Her legs clenched and then opened further for his perusal. Carefully, so as not to startle her, he drew one finger through the warm moisture. She inhaled once and then grew still.

  He lifted his other hand and spread her thighs fully, exposing her completely. She turned her head away, but did not demur. Her chest heaved rapidly and her heartbeat sang beneath his fingers. She was shy, but not reluctant. Even the heavy, spicy scent revealed her wants.

  His flesh swelled to almost unbearable limits as he drew in the perfume of her desire. He spread his own thighs to accommodate the size of his arousal. If she had been more experienced at passion, he would have buried himself in her willing warmth.

  But she was not. He fought to keep that thought in mind. He must not frighten her. He must make it precious for her. He would not find his own pleasure until he had assured hers. He drew another finger through her damp folds, feeling her quiver at his stroke. He circled the delicate bundle of nerves, careful not to touch.

  Still she kept her head averted, as if afraid to gaze at the power of their passion. He lifted a finger and turned her cheek towards him. He needed to be sure, to know she was fully with him. Her eyes were huge, the centers dark. She chewed on her lower lip, but then turned her face into his palm, caressing a kiss across it.

  “I know I am with you, Arthur.”

  The whispered words spurred him on. Still keeping his gaze on her face, he lowered his lips to taste her sweetness. He curled his tongue around her nub, aiming to bring her the ultimate delight.

  The moment he touched her, she stiffened, her body drawing straight and frozen. He started to pull back, afraid he’d misread her, pushed her too far, too fast. “No.” Her breathy cry stilled him.

  “Shh, just relax, I’ll wait until you’re ready,” he rasped. “I’ll go slowly.”

  “But, I don’t want you to.”

  “What don’t you want?”

  “I don’t want you to stop. I can do this now, I need to do this now.” She swayed her hips urgently before him.

  Arthur drew a deep breath, trying to let his mind catch up with his racing body. He didn’t say anything, but turned to look at her as she lay across the couch, legs still splayed. He hardly dared trust his ears.

  “I don’t want you to stop.” The words were hesitant this time as he could see clarity return to her.

  “But, you froze. I felt you stiffen with shock.”

  Her brows drew together and bafflement played across her face. Then a slow deep flush spread up from her chest. She bit, again, at her lush lower lip, evidently uncomfortable with the words she must say.

  “I didn’t mean to freeze. I couldn’t help myself.”

  Arthur raised his brow.

  “I . . . it was just so powerful. I’ve never felt anything like that. It took me by surprise. I never knew that . . . I never knew I could feel like that. I never even imagined this was possible.” She lowered her eyes. “It was very pleasant. I just wasn’t expecting such a feeling.”

  “Pleasant
?” He was beginning to understand, and a warm joy spread through him, where before he had felt despair.

  “Yes, pleasant.”

  “Only pleasant? Am I to be insulted?” He expressed his humor and happiness in the softest of whispers.

  Her flush deepened. She twisted her hands before her, drawing his attention to the way her breasts swelled with every movement, inviting him closer.

  “Maybe more than pleasant. I don’t have the words.”

  “Should I teach you some?” He sank beside her on the couch.

  “Ummm.”

  “That’s not one of them.” He drew a finger across her chest, watching her skin ripple. He brought the finger back to his mouth, dampening it before circling one pinkened tip. She started slightly, but then settled.

  Her next words chilled him.

  “It hurts now, though. You’ve made it hurt.”

  He drew back slightly, and she raised her eyes to meet his. He could not risk mistaking her meaning again; it might kill him.

  “What hurts and how does it hurt?”

  She pulled her face away and hid it against the edge of the couch.

  “My . . .” She ran a hand across her lower belly. “Between my legs. I don’t want to say what Worthington called it, and I don’t know . . . but, it aches. It’s never ached before.”

  “Aches, not hurts?”

  “Aches, hurts, what does it matter? I can’t get comfortable. I don’t know what to do.” Lily shifted her hips, rubbing across the tightly drawn front of his trousers. Arthur let out his own moan and pulled back from her.

  “I think I can cure that. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes. I think I’ve trusted you from the start.”

  “Then just watch.”

  He positioned her across the couch and bent his head to suckle. He drew each stiff peak in turn into his mouth, pinching at the other with tight fingers. Her gasps and wiggles assured him he was on the right track. He forced his own body to remain immobile as he nipped, laved, and nipped again, playing her body with all the skill of a virtuoso. He drew her again and again towards that high peak, but never let her fly. Her gasps turned to sighs, and her sighs to moans as he carefully led her up and down the unfamiliar path.