Sacrifice (Fashionably Impure Book 3)

by Natasha Blackthorne

  She pressed her cheek against his chest and began pouring out all the details of the afternoon.

  “I couldn’t do it, Adrian, I couldn’t do it.”

  “Hush,” he said. “I am glad that you couldn’t do it.”

  “But what if you had paid the price for my failure?”

  “I didn’t. Whatever you did, whatever you said, it was not a failure. It must have been exactly the right thing to reach their better sense, their common decency.”

  “But we must leave England.”

  “I must leave England.”

  “You cannot imagine that I will refuse to follow you?” she asked, then in a smaller voice. “You don’t wish for me to follow?”

  “I don’t know, Miranda.” He exhaled, loudly, as though attempting to release all the tension within him. “I had always feared such passionate love. But when I found it with you, I was helpless to deny myself its pleasures. But God, Miranda, I am not sure that this love of ours is good for us. It may well end up destroying us in the end.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “We are very different, Miranda.”

  “Not so different.” She pressed her cheek more firmly against his chest. “This is about what happened with Rebecca and Drake, isn’t it?”

  “It’s not so much what happened, Miranda. Not now. It is about my own reaction to what happened. You are a former courtesan. Such sharing and voyeurism in matters of sex was commonplace to you. I should not have held you to blame for being what you are. I should have forgiven your lapse. However, I do not think clearly when it comes to you. I am too often driven by extremes of jealousy and I fear what that may do to us in time.”

  “This breech between us is partly my fault, too. When Rebecca approached me, I should have used better judgment. But after what I learned today about Cassandra’s actions in the past, I realize that all my examples of how women should behave have been those set by courtesans. That life has been all I have known. I have been surrounded by people who meant well but were corrupt in their morals. I have to admit now, though it is a great blow and shame to my pride, that I may not always know what is and is not the proper choice.”

  “Then I should offer you guidance and support in learning what is and is not proper. I should set clear and well-explained limits for you as my wife and lover, as to what is and is not proper for you with others. I should never respond with anger and allow my disappointment to get the better of me when your intentions are for the good.” He paused and, to her surprise, he hugged her tighter. “And you did mean it all for the good. You said that you did it for us. To learn how to love me better.”

  “Yes, that was my thinking at the time. But as I said, I have come to see how corrupted Cassandra is.” She told him all the things that Heathford had told her about the night he had taken her virginity. About Winterton and his desire for revenge and Cassandra’s greed.

  Afterwards, great, gulping sobs consumed her. Shivers racked her, visceral reactions to the horrors of that night. She could see the whole episode more clearly and she admitted feelings to Adrian that she had never admitted to herself before. Sharing the horror with him made it more real, and yet at the same time, more bearable.

  Adrian held her and rocked her. A long, long time passed and finally she lay weak and spent against him. Limp from the release of such emotion that had been so long suppressed.

  And still, he caressed her. Rocked her. Soothed her.

  She slipped into a deep sleep.

  She awoke, feeling Adrian’s body now rigid against hers. She murmured his name.

  “I swear to you, before we leave England, I will call Heathford out. He will pay for this. By God, he will pay.”

  That brought her fully awake.

  “Adrian! How can you possibly contemplate such a thing?” She hugged him, fiercely. “I won’t let you do such a thing. I won’t.”

  “It is a matter of honor, my love.”

  “And needless. My honor was lost long ago.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “I come from Winterton’s seed, he is corruption itself. Cassandra is corrupted. How could I imagine that I would escape being corrupted myself?”

  “Hush, love, you are evil. You merely committed a lapse in good judgment and in retrospect. I am forced to admit that I acted like a prig upon your confession.” He caressed her hair. “Miranda, I have to tell you something.”

  “Yes,” she said, a hard, cold lump forming in her belly at the thought that he might actually call Heathford out.

  Stupid, foolish girl, why did you tell him all of that about Heathford!

  But she’d been unable to hold back from telling him. She needed to be close to him, to share all her pain and confusion and to have him solace her.

  But had she been selfish in that need?

  “I have to make a confession of my own,” he said. “I found and find the idea of you watching them do that, terribly arousing.”

  “Do you?” she said, at first his meaning barely registering past her disquiet and self-recrimination. Then warmth began to pulse through her. She smiled against his chest.

  He grasped her shoulders and pulled her up so that she was looking into his eyes. Her legs had begun to ache and tingle from the awkward position but she ignored it, smiling back at him. “But you said that I had done that for nothing. That you have no interest in experiencing that act with any woman.”

  He gave her a quick, hard kiss. He shifted her weight off himself and stood and then he lifted her into his arms.

  “Oh, you should not strain yourself.” She clutched his body, frantic with concern. “Your injury.”

  “You weigh less than a feather. It shan’t hurt me, love.”

  “You outrageous charmer,” she said, trying to make her tone light. She buried her face to his shoulder to hide the quick tears that sprang all over again at the thought of his injury.

  He carried her to bedchamber. She could feel the difference in his body, how he had to shift her weight, how he trembled slightly.

  How long until he regained his former strength?

  But she would not prick at his male pride by insisting that he put her down. There had been enough injury done his pride today at having been saved from the hangman’s noose by his wife showing her petticoats to his peers.

  He sat her on her feet, gave her a brief kiss then moved away and shed his clothing. He went to lie on the bed.

  She stood there in her nightdress and wrapper, uncertain at his sudden change in mood.

  He held out a hand. “Come, love.”

  She made to remove her night attire.

  “Why don’t you leave the nightdress on,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because it may make you feel a measure of self-protection.”

  She approached the bed slowly, uncertain as to what he meant for them to do. “Adrian”

  “Come here.”

  She sat beside him.

  He gently tugged on her hand. “Curl here beside me. Lay your head on my stomach.”

  At the image his words provoked, apprehension tingled through her.

  “You don’t have to kneel for me,” he said.

  She curled beside him and laid her head on his stomach, as he had bid. She stared up at him. “What should I do now?”

  “You should turn the other direction,” he said, with amusement in his voice.

  “Oh,” she said, turning and feeling a little foolish. She was supposed to be a sophisticated seductress. She should have known. But the day had left her drained and the discord between herself and Adrian had left her confused.

  Lost.

  His erection appeared far more intimidating from so close. She closed her eyes.

  He took her hand and wrapped it firmly about himself.

  She was trembling but oddly just on the inside. It was a strange sensation. “I don’t understand, Adrian.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  A mix of apprehension and elation
made her feel lightheaded. Like her stomach would float away. The first twinges of anything approaching arousal tingled through her loins for the first time since their discord had started. Since she had confessed to having watched Rebecca and Drake.

  “Show me what Rebecca did to Drake. Show me those things you found so beautiful.”

  “But I thought you didn’t want to experience this act, with any woman, not even me.”

  He wrapped his hand over hers and moved it up and down. “This is important to you? It would mean a lot to you if you were able to overcome your distaste for this?”

  “Yes, it would mean the world. It would be a victory over Winterton and…” she stopped herself from mentioning Heathford. “It would mean so much. It would mean all the more because it was something we could share together.”

  “Then it means something to me too, my love.”

  “But I understand how you must have felt, I mean forced to feel sexually for Cassandra. I felt some of that sense of being forced to it, to my shame, even with Carrville. It is not pleasant.”

  “Yes, Miranda, what happened with Cassandra, the one time, made me feel shame. It gave me a distaste to ever allow a woman to have so much control over me in a bedchamber ever again. But I will not allow that distaste to keep me from sharing something intimate and beautiful with you.”

  “I have never done this with anyone else. It is a virginity of sorts, is it not?”

  “Yes, love, it absolutely is.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  He released his hold on her hand. “Do what you will, my darling.”

  She stroked him. His thick, hard length throbbed within her grasp. Her sense of elation increased and effervesced out in a laugh. Wet warmth cascaded over her closed fist and she opened her eyes.

  He was leaking all over her. Seeing his obvious excitement made her bolder. She leaned forwards and put her lips to his crown. At first, the feel of the hot liquid made her startle.

  He caressed her hair. “Miranda.”

  She spread her lips, experiencing the creamy texture. She opened her mouth and let her tongue glide over him, learning the salty taste of his seed. He leaked all the more profusely and throbbed against her tongue.

  He groaned, his caress on her hair becoming heavier.

  His cock seemed to grow even bigger.

  She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips about the crown and encompassed it completely. His smooth flesh against her tongue was the most sensual thing she’d ever known and she took him deeper into her mouth. Slowly, so slowly. Partly because she was a little bit apprehensive about doing it correctly. She was afraid of nicking him with her teeth. But she also wanted to drag out the pleasures of this moment. These precious moments of discovery shared just between the two of them.

  He threaded his fingers into her hair, gripping her head with both of his hands now.

  She moved her mouth back and forth upon him.

  She shook with the mounting excitement within her as he throbbed and leaked. These signs of his obvious pleasure were a priceless gift to her.

  “God,” he said, tersely. He began to shake. “Oh God, Miranda.” His grip on her hair tightened, he arched his hips. His cock quaked against her tongue. At the first jet of hot come, she gasped, deep in her throat. It was followed rapidly by another one. A moment of panic seized her.

  Then she realized that she need only swallow.

  She did, swallowing and swallowing as he delivered jet after jet of hot come into her mouth. She laid her head upon his stomach, all her senses spinning.

  She done it.

  Oh heavens, she’d actually done it.

  Just as before, the day he’d first come home to her, his panting breaths took a while to subside.

  Then he partially sat and touched her, urging her up level with him. He cupped her face and kissed her, so deeply, so thoroughly that it sucked all her breath away.

  “My God, Miranda, that was…” He smiled at her. “There are no words.”

  They lay back on the pillows and he pulled the coverlet over their nakedness. She nestled her head into crook of arm. Sleep claimed her almost immediately.

  ****

  “Papa! Papa you’re home.” The delighted squeal tore Miranda from the warm and dark comforts of deepest slumber.

  She started and then realized, to her great relief that the coverlet was pulled to their chins, concealing their nakedness.

  “Damn, I forgot to lock that door,” Adrian muttered under his breath.

  Davey stood beside the bed, beaming his smile at them.

  “Good morning, Davey.” Adrian’s voice was half-amused, half-vexed.

  “Good morning, Papa. Can we go riding today?”

  Miranda couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Yes, of course we can, but Davey…”

  “Yes, Papa?”

  “You’ve become quite the grown boy in the past year, have you not?”

  “Yes, I’ve grown inches and inches. Haven’t I Mama?”

  “Yes, you have,” she said, hearing the humor in her voice.

  “Well, then I’d say you’re too old now to come bursting into our bedchamber without knocking.”

  “Oh.” Davey replied.

  Adrian made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Out with you. Go wait for us at the breakfast table.”

  “Yes, Papa,” Davey said and then turned and ran from the chamber, letting the door slam loudly behind him.

  Miranda looked at Adrian, took in his exasperated face and laughed, letting her head fall back to the pillow.

  “That boy needs discipline.”

  “I did the best I could in the absence of his father.”

  “You taught him to bake biscuits and to paint.”

  She lifted her arms and raised her hands, palms up in a helpless gesture. “I did the best I could. I don’t know how little boys ought to be brought up.” She paused then grinned. “He shows much talent.”

  “If he becomes an itinerant painter of portraits, I shall hold you to blame.”

  She grew serious. “Adrian, will you take this job that Ruel offers?”

  “The Canadian factory?”

  “Yes, he told me that he wants you to manage it.”

  “What do I know of managing a wool factory?” He lay back on his pillow, his arms braced behind his head. He frowned. “I don’t know, Miranda. We will need to pick a place to live and we shall need the means to live on. I did earn a good amount from this last job but I mean to put it aside for Davey. He will not have a title. He will need help to establish himself and to contract a good marriage.”

  “Ruel told me all about that factory. How well situated it is and the fantastic bargain it is. A property like that won’t stay on the market for long.”

  “Miranda, it is damn cold there.”

  “I know. But I am not afraid of hardships. Surely you aren’t either.”

  “No, but I would hate to force you to locate there. We could go to Jamaica. Or even America. Sexton assures me that the changes of ever being connected with Winterton’s death are not great there. The servant was more intent on seeing justice served in England. He did not report me to the Louisiana authorities. Even if I were ever to be connected, Sexton says it is unlikely I should actually be prosecuted anywhere outside of Louisiana. It is the way their states look at things.”

  “The idea of living in the United States is tempting but Adrian, think of it. This Canadian factory is an incredible bargain. It would be a chance to make a fabulous profit on an initial investment.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “What if you— if we could buy that factory for ourselves? What if we were the owners and we managed it ourselves. We could experiment with different methods. We could create a more humane situation for our employees than at most factories. We could lessen some of the corruption in this world. Together.”

  “Miranda, if I put my earnings away for Davey, we simply won’t have the funds to purchase that factory.”

  “Yes, we could.” I
n her excitement, she leaned over him, part way. “I am a wealthy woman now.”

  He took her hand, frowning. “What?”

  “Cassandra told me that she lied. She had never spent all my money, it is still in trust. It has been drawing interest all these years. She allowed a banker friend to manage the investments. It is a small fortune. We need only spend a small portion of it to purchase the factory. The rest we can put away for our daughters.”

  “But is Cassandra really going to allow you to just take it?”

  “Yes.” Miranda drew her brows together. “She’s dying Adrian. She wants my forgiveness.”

  “My God.” He looked at her so seriously. “I never dreamed that we could find ourselves in this position.”

  “Well, we’d better snap this factory up before Ruel finds another man to manage it and buys it himself.”

  “Yes.” A grin broke over Adrian’s face. “Yes, my love, today. This very day.”

  She compressed her lips.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I had expected more of a fight from you over it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of your damnable arrogance and male pride.”

  He took her hand, drew it to his mouth and kissed it. “I have learned to accept the sacrifices of my lady with gratitude.”

  “When?”

  “When do you think?” He grinned, again, broader this time. “Last night.”

  “Did you indeed?”

  “Yes, I did.” Still holding her by the hand, he pulled her up and over his body, helping her to settle her weight comfortably.

  She felt her eyes widen in surprise. “Adrian?”

  He slid his hands down her back, down to her bottom. “You once said that you would show me your skills at riding a man to pleasure.”

  “So I did,” she said, remembering also the shame of his rejection.

  “And you promised me that you were quite good at it.”

  “Yes, I did,” she said, warming now.

  “Well, why don’t you prove it? Now.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Miranda stared down into Adrian’s handsome face. He was so open to her now, his gaze shining with love. She couldn’t help returning his smile with a wide, impudent grin.