by Jenn LeBlanc
He led her to the seats by the window, which were beautifully appointed in a velvet brocade, soft and plush enough to sink into. He rather enjoyed the rails. He considered that he would travel to Eildon more often, as his brother would begin the begetting of heirs and he would most definitely need to be present to ensure they were not raised to be thoroughly stodgy boors as Gideon had been.
He liked the idea of being an uncle. The bad uncle who always brought sweets and toys and the like. The favorite uncle. Not that there would be another. His first gift would be a beautiful grey hunter. It would quite clash with the chattel in Rox’s stable. The thought of it made Perry grin.
The sway of the train, the graceful speed with which it moved, was erotic. It swayed the body as opposed to jerking it around like one was in a carriage. It passed over the country easily, as a knife through warm butter. The newer rails and stronger engines were an incredible improvement, the trains moving faster and smoother from station to station. He knew Gideon had planned a private car to travel back and forth to London more efficiently, and he certainly could outdo him. His car would have a large bed, right in the center, surrounded by windows. He grinned wickedly at the thought, then looked to the woman his mind had placed lounging on that beautiful bed.
She stood once they were moving steadily, her hands pressed up against the glass as the countryside swept past them. Her eyes were wide, her mouth an amazed smile. Her breath came against the chilled window in little puffs of condensation. His vision exploded in his mind, the excitement on her face bringing him an altogether different kind of joy. He followed the line of her jaw, past the shoulder of her traveling cloak, to the long fitted sleeves of her blouse. The lines of her clothing were so much simpler than the current fashions of the ton. It was rather refreshing.
She wore a full skirt, no fancy bustles, though it appeared from the roundness of the skirt that there was something going on under there, other than just her legs. He groaned and turned away. This woman had him tied in knots.
In general he took pleasure in one woman, then moved on. Or several women at a time. In different ways. He’d had mistresses who he’d kept for longer periods, but he always tired of them, eventually looking for someone new.
How was it that this woman had captured so much of his attention in so short a time? He couldn’t form the face of a single of his former mistresses in his mind; she had effectively chased them all away.
He turned when she shook his arm. “Look! Look there, do you see them?” Perry stood and leaned around her, looking out the window to where she pointed. A group of red deer grazed at the edge of the forest. “Do you hunt?” she asked.
“I do, in fact. I have been practicing with a bow recently.” He placed his arms on the frame of the window, near the level of her shoulders, and saw the swift puff of breath on the window that signaled her awareness. “The huntsmen at Westcreek swear it to be the most efficient and least cruel way to down a buck.” His words stirred the loose curls at her neck.
Her smile wavered. “My father would never let me attend a hunt.” She glanced back to the window. “Will the rails come to Kelso?”
“I believe the plans call for an eastern leg to run from Roxleighshire, close to Kelso, then on to Berwick-Upon-Tweed.”
She nodded, her eyes taking on a faraway cast.
“You will not have time to miss them,” he said. “You will be too busy with your new life in London.”
“Thank you.”
He let the train rock him as he considered his situation. This wasn’t bound to turn out well, no matter how it was handled. He should take her to Gideon’s town house and leave her there with instructions to contact his brother and notify him of his new town maid. He couldn’t.
He knew what it was to be a rake and, at this moment, the definition was simple. Selfish. He wouldn’t take her to Roxleigh House because he wanted her close to him. He wanted to continue the lessons. He wanted to see how much she could learn, and how well she would master his teachings.
He had a feeling she would prove to be an excellent student.
He was a rake, and it appeared he had not changed that much after all.
He wanted her. So she was to stay with him.
“I concede.”
Her heart stopped as the words drifted across her shoulder, and she turned slowly toward him, her side coming to rest against his solid chest. He should have moved to give her room. It would have been the proper thing to do. He didn’t. He did what a rake would do: he crowded her infinitely more by flexing the muscles that caged her to the window. “You...what?”
“I concede, I yield, I will do as you wish.” His voice was so low she felt it in the breath that sang across her ear, through the vibration of the words where she was drawn up against him.
She felt his breath quicken then, the tempo with which his chest expanded and released picking up. She glanced around the berth, as if there would be witnesses to this. As if he were not so experienced that he knew the precise location of each of his men without looking, not to mention every other passenger, porter, conductor, and engineer. Rather quickly, she realized the reason she could feel his breath come and go so easily was because hers was completely still. She huffed it out, then tried to convince her lungs to take in more air—she needed it desperately. She heard the choking sound come from her throat as she watched his eyes widen, and his lips parted when she finally took a breath. She could not take her eyes from them.
“Unless...”
“Unless?” She felt as though she might simply faint.
“Unless you have changed your mind?”
He sounded almost hopeful, but a line marred his perfect expression just between his brows. She fought her nerves, which at the moment were clearly working against her. Say something, anything. Nod, smile, acquiesce. Somehow. Move! Her head jerked.
“You have, then? Changed your mind, I mean?”
“No!” Thank goodness for that sound. “No, I have not. I haven’t changed my mind. Thank you.”
His lips caught up in a slow grin. They were silent. She turned to the window, quick jerky movements that were forced from her by will. The sway of the train on the tracks and the sound of the distant engine were all that filled the empty space.
“When?” she asked. There was almost no sound and she cleared her throat. But didn’t turn to look at him.
She felt the shift in his muscles, his breath hotter and impossibly closer, his mouth descending to her neck. She melted then and he caught her, but her muscles stiffened, fought his capture. He released her to the seat then followed her down.
“I’m sorry, I— I don’t appear to have complete control at the moment.”
He knew he had to progress slowly. To make sure she wouldn’t become frightened. After all, it was only the simple things that had set her off thus far. This—any part of this—could terrify her and send her into a panic. He reined in his fervor and kissed along her jaw, but she jerked away, so he slowly moved his hand around her back to steady her. Her entire body tensed at the pressure, and when his other hand went to her knee she kicked him—solidly.
“I’m sorry,” she said, a blush spreading from the top of her forehead down her face like a closing curtain.
He set her away from him and stood, looking down at her. This wasn’t going to work. He paced the length of the berth, trying to think of a way that she would be able to accept his kisses without fear. When he reached the door, he swiftly locked it then turned.
Every time he touched her, she shook or shuddered, jerked away or lashed out. He could not take her if she feared him. He would not be able to bring himself to that. He stopped in front of her. “Stand.”
She stood.
“Undress me,” he said quietly.
She looked up at him with a confused expression, and he closed his eyes against the pain and fear he saw in her eyes. He shook his head and looked down at her, taking her hand gently where it grasped her traveling cloak and bringing it to the
buttons of his waistcoat.
“If this is what you want…undress me,” he said. He left her hand there and dropped his, watching, waiting. She tightened her fingers on the top button and twisted slowly, the button popping free.
She worked her way down the row of buttons while he shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his neck cloth. She continued with the buttons of his shirt, then reached up and held both sides of the shirt and waistcoat. She pushed them open slowly, revealing inch by inch his heavily muscled chest. Perry pulled his shirt from the waistband and let it fall to the floor with his waistcoat.
She gazed at it, now bare and warm. She could feel the heat of him. She could see the pulse at the crest of his ribcage, there at the very base of his neck. Lilly inhaled, quelling her nerves, then thought he smelled of strength. She had no idea what that meant, but knew that it calmed her.
He didn’t move, only allowed her inspection. She swallowed. He was so different from anything she’d ever encountered. Perfectly sculpted, restrained, patient.
She reached out and touched the smooth hair dusting his chest. At this she saw his arms move, and she pulled back.
“Wait— Don’t.” He held his hands together behind his back.
She stepped forward again, reaching up and tracing the patterns of his muscles, the lines of his ribs on each side, the gathering of muscles below. They twitched under her searching fingers, and he lifted his hand to stop her momentarily. She glanced up, worried.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am a bit sensitive there, and the way you are touching me is—”
She started to turn away but he stopped her again, placing her hands back on his chest. She waited, patiently, trying to catch her breath, then followed her hands down his chest with her gaze, halting when they reached the waistband of his trousers. She could see the ridge of him through the fabric and she froze. Her breath hitched and he put his hand over hers. She looked up at him.
“You don’t seem to understand that you have all the power here. I have none. I’m at your mercy. You will see, even as a woman, that you can control me.” His eyes glowed with the fire of his restrained need. His hand moved to the clasp at her throat, releasing her cape and letting it fall behind her.
She flinched at the sudden movement and the raw edge in his gaze, amazed by the difference between the inner passion she could see all too clearly and his outward demeanor. He raised his eyebrows, then clasped his hands behind his back, silently urging her on. His chest broadened in this stance, appearing more powerful, and she felt the command emanating from him, his questioning gaze demanding her touch. His control, though he professed none, was palpable—and she balked.
She stepped back, and he let out a long breath as she spoke. “Mayhap— Mayhap this was a mistake, mayhap you’re right,” she said quietly, then turned away from him.
Her touch, her exploring gaze, were part of the most impassioned exchange he had ever experienced with another person in his life. Unfortunately, she had persuaded both his mind and body and neither was interested in being dissuaded now. His thoughts raced as he tried to find a way to convince her, to gain her trust. He groaned and sank to his knees behind her, his head down, waiting patiently. He swore to himself that if she walked away now that would be it. He would move to another berth and not return.
She turned, and his head came up slightly. He saw the shock cross her features when she found him on his knees. He was still so large that his nose came to just beneath her breast. His warm breath moved the shirt against her abdomen, and she inhaled sharply. He closed his eyes, the floor shifting as they took a bend in the track. She took the step back to him and he felt her hand skim through the thickness of his hair, pulling his head back slightly, then his body forward. He leaned into her, his chin grazing between her breasts, and she jumped at the touch but did not release him.
He leaned back on his heels and opened his eyes, looking down at first so as not to scare her off again, trying desperately to control the desire that must be so obvious. He needed to be able to look on her without disquieting her. His gaze moved up her body. He counted the buttons on her shirtwaist, the stitches in the placket, and the threads in the fabric, slowing his gaze as he came to her bare neck, where the twin pulses rushed at each side. He swallowed hard and waited.
He made his look one of pleading permission, and it was apparently exactly what she needed. She tugged his hair, pulling him back so that his eyes caught hers, and she gave it, running her thumb over his open mouth. Then she stepped back, sitting at the edge of the seat. “Milord,” she said with a breath. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to call him, or simply an exclamation.
“Perry,” he said. “If we are to do this, you will call me Perry.”
“I— I cannot,” she stuttered.
He grumbled and she shrank away from him. He was immediately penitent. “Call me what you will,” he whispered.
Her back straightened a bit. “I am afraid.”
He sank onto his heels again. He reached out and stroked her bare leg. Taking her foot carefully in his hands, holding her steady when it jerked, he unhooked her boot and let it fall, then massaged her foot through her heavy woolen stockings. She sighed and he moved to her other leg, paying it the same attention. His mind played over the scene she had depicted, of that atrocious beast dragging her into the forest and forcing her body to his wicked intent. He closed his eyes. He wanted Hepplewort dead. He was amazed Gideon had left him breathing.
He looked up at her. “Lilly,” he said, releasing her foot and standing before her. “We do not—”
She hushed him, her gaze trapped on his loins. She twisted her hands in her skirts as she looked to his eyes suddenly. “He was the first. I had never—” She gestured toward him. “Even my brothers, I’d never— I, I had never seen even—” She swallowed, her throat tensing as he watched her.
He understood. She was an innocent—in her mind, anyway. What Hepplewort had done to her in that forest didn’t change the hopes and dreams she’d had growing up. Hepplewort had violently derailed them but no longer. Now Perry was purposed with setting her back on track. He loosened his trousers and pushed them off, then stood before her in his under drawers. He heard her sharp intake of breath.
He lifted her hands and placed them on his waist, ever waiting her decision. Her face flushed hotly, then she shut her eyes, tucking her chin into her shoulder. Her fingers found the buttons that held the drawers in place and, with a deep breath, she tightened her closed eyes and pulled at them bit by bit. When the waist was loose, she held the edges of the opening to keep the drawers in place while she attempted to control her breathing.
She swallowed, her fists clenched over the waistband, her knuckles white with strain as she struggled. He stroked one hand with his finger. “The reality is not as fearsome as the memory which is fueled by your imagination,” he murmured.
She nodded briskly and her hands relaxed, letting the drawers slide low on his hips. She felt for his waist, her eyes still closed. Her fingertips dipped into his bellybutton and he vibrated with a silent chuckle. She followed the smooth, soft trail of hair and tucked the tips of her fingers in his waistband, pulling forward so the front of his drawers opened to her. She let go, though her hands hovered there, not wanting to continue but refusing to retreat.
The sight of her closed eyes and her small hands hovering just above his freed erection was enough to stand his nerves on end. His mouth went dry and he moved slightly, pushing the head into her palm, as her other hand found his belly again, as though to stay him.
She drew in a breath. “Soft,” she whispered. Her hand closed slowly around the tip, her thumb smoothing across the skin as she opened her eyes. They grew wide, then wider still.
He clenched his jaw, willing his body to submit.
He felt her retreat and groaned a complaint. “Lilly, you cannot possibly understand how difficult this is for me as well. I am not familiar with allowing this sort of perusal. I wasn’t aware how mu
ch of a trial it would be to tolerate your simple touch.”
She drew her hands away. “I beg pardon, milord, I—”
“No, you misunderstand. This is not an unbearable discomfiture, it is merely different from my customary role in the bedchamber.” Her sweet mouth was so close to his cock that he had to look away to staunch his desire to plunder. “You cannot understand what I feel just yet, as you are still too much an innocent.” He paused, then added, “But you will.”
He pulled her up from the seat and drew her close. His head lowered and their breath mingled as he studied her through his lashes, making sure she was with him, and not back in that forest. His hands moved down her arms, tracing along the backs, all the way to her hands—energy coursing between them. He took her hands and drew them around his waist, leaving them to rest on his backside before continuing his gentle perusal of her mouth and body.
She held her mouth open and he knew she was unsure what to do, so he danced around her lips with his tongue, exploring, teaching, and searching her. He showed her how different touches felt, how his tongue on hers could send a chill down her spine. How his lips against hers made them swell eagerly.
She spread her fingers over the hard muscle of his buttocks, the tension swaying and ebbing as he moved with her. His hands roamed lower and he traced the line of her backside, his thumbs finding the twin dimples at the base of her spine through the fabric of her shirt. He caressed, pulled her closer still, all the while keeping her attention on his mouth, her lips, his hips, her hands, vigilantly watching, making sure.
He moved carefully, one hand holding her round bottom in place, the other cautiously circling around her hip, caressing through her skirts. Then his fingers went to work. He loosened every catch, every tie, all the binds that wrapped her, and let it all fall away before she even knew what he had done.
“You would be a very efficient lady’s maid.”
