“Must I really be completely ready in those ways? Isn’t it mostly a fairly basic thing? Do my head and heart necessarily need to be in accord with my sex?”
Hearing such a frank word on her lips sent another bolt of lust through him. He had to suppress a groan. “Sunny, you’re no hardened light-skirt. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself that you are. I don’t want to hurt you, I never want to hurt you. Not in that way, ever.”
His hand seemed to find its way down to her stomach and slid down to cup her mons again. Her outer lips were plump, a luxury to touch. But she was so wet, he could never have resisted slipping a finger into her. She clenched on him and arched her hips, whilst looking him directly in the eyes. Her eyes were dark green and glittering with desire.
He pulled his finger back then slid it back in as deep as it would go.
She caught her breath then moaned and he could feel her getting wetter.
He set up a steady rhythm.
“James?” she asked, an unsteadiness in her voice. “I won’t be able to—”
“Shh,” he said.
“But I won’t—”
“Does it feel good to you?” He brushed his thumb over her nub.
She arched, pressing up into his touch. “It feels divine. But—”
“Hush, then. Just enjoy it and don’t worry about anything else.” Her every writhe and moan and slight catch of her breath thrilled him. He had never before known such a vicarious enjoyment of a woman’s pleasure and he was loath to cease.
He put his mouth to her neck and savored the feel of her pulse beneath his lips. He pressed his erection into the softness of her thigh. He was leaking all over her, throbbing. But he called on all his self-discipline and focused on her needs, her pleasures. She had been years without satisfaction; surely he could manage one night.
He wanted her to experience climax alone, before he took her. He wanted to give her back her own sense of sexuality. Yet, if he returned her carnality to her and she knew she could come once more, that she could do it on her own, then she might well decide she no longer wanted or needed to be with him.
And he’d have to accept that.
Because a submission forced upon her due to her desperation for release wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her to give herself to him freely.
He withdrew his hand and then took her hand. “Touch yourself.”
Sunny had been close, so close. She’d been sure of that.
You’ve believed that before.
Oh, but the feel of his long fingers, deep inside her, driving her to greater and greater heights, had been so wonderful! Better than she could have ever imagined. Better than with anyone else. The withdrawal of his hand was a loss. A painful loss. She moaned and let her eyes flutter open.
Firelight cast shadows over the elegantly drawn lines of his straight, narrow nose, his chiseled cheekbones. His jaw jutted for he appeared to be holding it tense. She could sense the energy he held inside himself.
“Touch yourself.”
He spoke those words as though such a thing were the easiest thing in the world. Yes, she’d done it earlier, but that had been different. She’d been caught up in the passion of having served his pleasure, of having had him take such utter control over her. She’d been like another woman, another Sunny.
She’d gloried in his dominance. She wanted him to take control over her now. She could sense that coiled energy within him, growing in strength. She wished she knew how to tempt him, to provoke him into letting go of his self-control as he had done earlier. However, she wasn’t quite sure how to ask, or, more importantly, how to ask in a way that would reach him. He was doggedly determined to follow whatever course he willed. That had been plain since that first night when she’d stole into his bed and tried to seduce him.
He cupped her face, his eyes dark and glittering with desire. “I want to you do it. I want to see you give yourself pleasure.”
“It will no’ work.”
“It will.”
“No, Freddy, he haunts me. He will—”
“No, no, I won’t allow him to come between us.” He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I won’t let him deny you.”
She caught her breath.
The way he said that! She had never thought of it like that before.
James lowered his head, put his lips to the hollow beneath her ear. “You’re a widow, no longer his wife. You were never really his in a sexual sense; he never possessed you fully. He couldn’t give you what you needed.”
“It was no’ his fault.”
“It wasn’t yours either.”
“He needed me so much. He needed something from me, I di—don’t know what it was.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.” She shook her head rapidly.
“Yes, you do, love. Be brave enough to face it.”
Her heart had begun to pound very fast. “Oh, dear.”
“You were just a girl when you wed. A girl made of flesh and blood. You were never a saint. Now tell me, clearly, what he wanted from you.”
The last pulse of lust within her died and she felt cold, very cold. “It sounds as though you’ve already guessed at the matter.”
The hurt sound of her voice made her cringe. She pushed at him, attempting to roll away.
He locked his arm about her waist. “I have fairly good idea. But I want to hear you say it. I want you to admit it.”
She gaped at him. Why must he press her like this? Didn’t he have any idea how painful it was for her to even admit such things to herself? “James, please.”
He caressed her hair. “Sunny.” The sound of her name as uttered by him resonated with compassion. Though his arm was still like an iron band, his touch on her hair was oh so tender.
The coldness inside her melted. Her body relaxed, easing into his.
“You must admit the truth aloud.” He pressed his lips to her temple. Another wave of warmth spread through her. “Release it and it will release you.”
She stared into his blue eyes. Never had she felt so compelled to be open to another person, open to believing in him utterly. “What makes you so sure that admitting it will release me?”
His sensual mouth curved in a most appealing smile, as though they shared the most intimate of secrets.
Her belly seemed to bottom out. She remembered feeling that way, the very first time he had smiled at her like that, years ago when he’d been ill in bed, miserable with a sore throat and she’d brought him a bag of licorice.
“I know because I was a commander of men. It was my responsibility not just to know how to discipline them, but to get them to forgive themselves so that they would be reliable and trustworthy once more. No one is more dangerous than a man who does not trust himself to do right.” He had settled his hand at the base of her neck and now he traced his fingertips over her nape. “Go on, tell me.”
She took a deep breath. Then she plunged into it. “He wanted me to be satisfied with him the way he was.” Her throat had become restricted on the last two words, and now a sob tore up from her depths. Freddy’s image came to life. His ginger-blond hair looked more orange than gold in the firelight, and his boyish features appeared a little more rugged as the flickering flames cast shadows over his face. He seemed so lifelike. She need only reach her hand out to touch him. But he would have no part of it. His expression was twisted. Part hurt, part anger. A good part well-earned disdain. “Oh, Freddy, Freddy, forgive me, please forgive me!”
The stroke of a hand over her hair startled her.
“Sunny?”
James!
“Open your eyes.” James’ voice was firm, commanding.
She complied instantly.
His eyes were like glittering sapphires, made even a deeper, richer hue by the accent of his thick, dark brows. Beautiful eyes, filled with tenderness.
Compassion.
“It is not your fault that you needed more,” he said resolutely.
“He knew. Oh, God,” she said, and her voice rose on a sob. “He knew.”
“Of course he knew.”
“You don’t know what I did.” The words came out as a whisper. She hardly dared admit this.
His gaze moved over her face, the tenderness in his eyes only increasing. “Tell me then.”
“You will despise me. You will distrust me, as everyone else does now.”
“This is about Mr. Silas Chapman?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“What did Freddy know about Mr. Chapman?”
The past few years fell away, as though they had never existed. The scent of flowers and sun-soaked grass wafted in through the open window of the drawing room. The taste of sugary icing from the teacakes had made her lick her lips, which drew the attention of the handsomest man in the household. Though the sound of polite, feminine laughter had echoed in her ears, she hadn’t been able to look away.
“Mr. Chapman could be so amusing. He had been in the army—the Dragoons, to be precise. He had the most enthralling and, at times, hilarious stories to tell. He was entertaining me and Frances.”
“Aunt Frances allowed him to be so familiar with the family?”
An image of Aunt Frances, all smiles, her face flushed, her fan fluttering a little too quickly, entered Sunny’s mind. “Oh, Mr. Chapman was very charming. There was no’ a woman in the household who didn’t smile and simper when he flashed his bonny grin at them. Your Aunt Frances was no exception.” Coldness burrowed into her heart. She had to tell him. She had to admit how thoughtless she had been. How uncaring of Freddy and his feelings. “I laughed at Mr. Chapman’s stories. I laughed a little too loudly, I think. He was such a high, handsome man, so beautifully made, it gave me pleasure just to look at him, just to be near him. He smiled at me then. His eyes appeared to twinkle as he looked at me directly, deeply. It seemed like a look and a smile made special just for me, even though we were in the drawing room with Aunt Frances and Grandmother Blayne.
“I said something. I can no’ remember what now. He leaned down and asked me to repeat myself. I tried, but I was so overcome by my own attraction to him, I stammered, just like some silly schoolroom miss. He said something teasing in reply. I could feel the heat on my face. He was smiling at me so broadly, so brightly. I quite forgot everyone else. I giggled like a girl and I touched his arm. Freddy had apparently just returned. He saw the whole shameful byplay.”
With the whole tawdry tale out, she clamped her mouth shut. Her heart thundered in her ears. She was sure James must hear it this time!
But he just kept staring at her. She couldn’t discern his thoughts.
“Aunt Frances didn’t dismiss Mr. Chapman after this insufferable impudence on his part?” James said at last.
His tone was incredulous, not angry. She took a deep breath. “I suppose it should have fallen to me to have dismissed him.”
“Oh come now, we all know that Aunt Frances has always ruled that roost, no matter that Freddy had come into his inheritance.”
“I guess that’s my fault. I should have long before asserted my authority as baroness.”
“You were handpicked for your girlish lack of assertiveness. A clergyman’s daughter, a common-born bride uncertain of herself.”
“Freddy did say he adored my girlishness.”
“Freddy didn’t pick you as a bride. Aunt Frances did. Make no mistake.”
His voice rang with disgust.
That shocked her. “You make Freddy sound as though he had no mind of his own.”
He shrugged. “It’s merely the reality of the situation.”
She was still stunned by the intensity of James’ declaration. He was Freddy’s cousin. She had never guessed that he bore such negative feelings for her late husband.
They fell silent. He stroked her back in slow, rhythmic motions. Seductive motions, lulling her back into a relaxed state. It seemed suddenly so disloyal to Freddy to be lying here with a man who disapproved of him. She tried hard to hold onto her tension, to resist the warm pleasure that sparked through her with each stroke of his hand.
But it was impossible.
Again, she melted into his touch. He swept his hand down to caress her buttocks. She couldn’t help lifting her bottom, as though she were eager for his attention. Relaxation spread through her pelvis, a tugging-down sensation deep inside her belly.
“Sunny, what happened was unfortunate, and yes, you did quite forget yourself.” His tone was a firm yet gentle censure.
She caught her breath, accentuating the pounding of her heart. She kept her eyes squeezed tightly closed.
“You were Freddy’s baroness and you owed him respect if nothing else. You should always have behaved as a lady in public, especially before the servants and his mother. What you did was thoughtless, lacking in all respect, and that would be hurtful to any man.”
His words, so softly spoken, slashed into her. She bit her lip and nodded, taking the scolding with as much grace as she could muster. If James had been less than truthful with her, that would have hurt far more.
“Look at me, Sunny.”
She could never have resisted that softly commanding tone. She opened her eyes, expecting to meet his disdainful glare.
His eyes were full of compassion. Perhaps even more than earlier. She had a peculiar sense of the earth’s shifting beneath her feet, even though she was lying down not standing. Tears blurred his image.
He murmured. A sound of comfort, of sympathy. Then he swept his hand up her back, bringing it to rest at her nape. He pressed her head forward until her face came to rest against the crook of his shoulder. He smelled of male sweat, lust and spicy cologne, the scent of all things James.
“Sweeting.” he said, cradling her body.
Shame burned inside her, choking her and forcing its way up and pouring out in tears that seemed to blaze down her cheeks. “Shh, shh,” he said, still holding her and giving her a gentle sort of rocking motion.
“I am sorry, I am so very sorry,” she said between gulps of air. But his rocking motion lulled her and the feeling of awfulness was passing. She felt weak, drained in its wake.
“Of course you are.”
“I can never make things right again. Never.”
“Shh, shh,” he said. “You wed Freddy before you knew your own mind. He couldn’t be a true husband. It was an untenable situation for a young, healthy woman to find herself in. No person is perfect. You must forgive yourself.”
All she could see was Freddy’s ashen face. His huge eyes. “He was so hurt.”
“A true gentleman would forgive such a lapse.”
“What would you have done?”
“I would have thrashed Mr. Chapman.” Emotion vibrated in his voice. She could feel it in her bones. It was a shock, hearing James so affected. That made twice tonight that she’d been shocked by the intensity of his emotion.
She sniffed and swiped at a tear-streaked cheek. “A thrashing seems a bit extreme.”
“It’s not.” His voice was hard, cold. “If Chapman were a gentleman, I would still hunt him down and meet him at dawn and settle the matter over pistols.”
“Goodness, you say that with such conviction.”
“I am deadly serious. What he did to you, his ultimate seduction of you, was beyond the pale. If he were a gentleman, he would answer for it, and I would not delope, nor would I miss.”
“Freddy was so angry,” she repeated, feeling once more the savage pain in her heart. His eyes, oh God, Freddy’s eyes so full of hurt. Shame.
“Did he ever forgive you?”
“No.” Her voice echoed, small and girlish in her own ears.
“Freddy was always selfish,” James softly snarled.
“It was no’ his fault.”
“It’s time he let you go.”
His voice resounded with such determination, she gaped at him.
James took Sunny by the shoulders, exerting every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to keep
from gripping her too hard. He rolled her onto her back.
Her mouth was slightly parted, her eyes lighting up with the emotion that lay behind what she was about to say.
He swept down and put his mouth over hers. Thrust his tongue between her parted lips.
He’d kissed her out of desire. Out of lust. Yes, that was true.
But he’d also done it to hush her.
He couldn’t bear to hear more of her confessions. Her latest one still rang in his ears. The incredible jealousy he had felt upon hearing her speak of Chapman and her attraction to him!
God, it burned through him.
Yet, how strong that attraction must have been to cause the gentle, considerate girl Sunny had been to act so brazenly, so thoughtlessly.
It enraged him that she could ever have wanted or longed for any man but him.
An irrational desire?
Certainly, for he had been but a fleeting presence in her life. They had shared a handful of kisses and forbidden caresses in the Blayne Garden. He couldn’t have expected her to even have remembered him that well or fondly.
But he had remembered her. He had burned for her for years.
Yes, he had buried that unrequited desire beneath duty. Had pretended to want and bedded other women.
Yet, his desire for Sunny had burnt all the stronger for having been submerged.
He had one thought now. To take her. To imprint himself on her so indelibly, she would never think of any man but him.
He cupped her breasts. Their tips hardened and crushed into his palms. He thrust his tongue against hers, kissing her deeply.
Her muffled moans spurred him on and he fondled her more passionately. Her hips arched against him and he shifted until his thigh rested between hers. She froze then moaned in her throat and pressed her mons against his leg. Her flesh dampened him. He slid his hand down her belly.
He tore his lips from hers and lifted away from her body so that he could watch himself touch her intimate flesh. He traced his fingertips over the fine, medium-brown triangle of hair, and the full, luscious outer lips.
His cock jerked with a surge of lust. He wanted to own that beautiful cunny.
The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (Intimate Secrets Book 1) Page 21
