by Lavinia Kent
Her lips grew tight but Bliss did not resist as he began to stride away, to take control, her hand still tight in his.
—
Why was she going along with Duldon? Bliss asked herself the question again and again as Duldon led her around a bend and down a dark hall. If she wasn’t careful she’d be forced to marry the man even before her brother demanded. She might have somewhat greater freedom than young ladies in their first season, but it was still not done to be found alone with a man in the dark.
And now she understood why. Her mind filled with a picture of herself leaning over the desk, of a man’s weight behind her, of Duldon’s weight behind her…She slammed that mental door shut, almost stumbling as she thought of Duldon’s long strong fingers moving over…No.
If only she could run and hide, escape the torment of need that churned inside her. Again the images flickered through her mind and again she fought to shut them away.
The worst was that she knew they were not solely the result of this night. They bore far more relation to…No. No. No. She was not going to think of that. She never thought of that—at least not during waking hours.
She dug her nails into her palm, but still she did not demur as Duldon opened a glass door at the end of the hall and led her out into the starlit garden.
“Why are you talking to me like this? You never talk to me about anything besides horses and fields—and certainly not the way you are talking about horses at present.” It was easier to talk than to keep wondering why she was following along obediently. She knew this could only lead to trouble.
“It is time,” he answered.
“It is time? What does that mean?” She was not going to let him get away with such a nonsense answer.
“It means that it is time. I do not see what is so complicated about that.” He led her through the rows of flowers close to the house and then farther into the darkness beneath the trees.
She stopped abruptly. The dark of overshadowing branches hid the stars and only the murmur of distant voices and the faint sound of the orchestra told her they were not alone in the world. “I want a real answer. Why are you talking about such things? And why did you follow me? Why do you care at all? And marriage? Why me? Surely there are a dozen or more young ladies who would be happy to marry the Earl of Duldon. Why choose me?” In an instant every question that had flitted through mind since her brother had first spoken of Duldon’s intentions spurted from her lips.
“I am talking about such things because I believe you are finally old enough.”
“I’ve been old enough for several years now. If I listen to the whispers in the corner I am almost too old.”
He smiled, his eyes softening. “You are definitely not too old, and perhaps I should say instead that I am finally old enough. I am ready to settle and take a wife. It would not have been appropriate for me to pursue you before I was ready to do the honorable thing. Tonight I followed you because I wished to speak to you. Which, I am sure, is why you chose to flee. I have always cared for you. Do you doubt it? And I am sure your brother has mentioned that there is a piece of land that I want returned to the estate. Have I missed any of your questions?” He turned and stood, looming above her, cutting out even more of the faint evening light.
She fought not to roll her eyes at him. She did not find any of his answers satisfying and she certainly did not wish to be married for a piece of land. “I will repeat, I have been old enough for several years now and you did not speak to me then about anything except whether the wheat was molding in the fields. I do not deny that you cared for me as a child, but it has certainly been years since you chose to demonstrate any such caring beyond watching me from afar. You are several years older than I and I certainly do not believe that you felt a need to mature before deciding to continue whatever relationship we had. I happen to know that you’ve been mature for quite some years now. And if the land really is your concern I am quite sure that my father would accept any decent offer for it. I refuse to allow myself to be involved in such a transaction. Actually, if you asked my father, rather than my brother, it probably does not even need to be a decent offer. You could probably offer him a pretty pair of goats and he’d agree. So why marry me?” Bliss felt a sense of great relief as the speech left her mouth. It was wonderful to finally put words to the thoughts that had filled her mind these last days, and some of the tension that had been building within her for the last hour wafted away. She turned from Duldon and stared through the trees at the barely visible stone wall that marked the edge of the property and sheltered it from the busy street. It was amazing how a few trees and a high wall could make her feel so separated from the mass of humanity that filled the city. What was happening on the other side of that wall? Were there street sweepers still out? Were the lamps lit? How many carriages rumbled by in any given minute?
“Where are you wandering to in your mind? I always know when you are trying to avoid thinking about something. I can almost see into your brain as your mind moves to something else. Even when you were little you’d start to think about raindrops or biscuits if your brother wished to discuss something you did not want to.”
Why did he have to know her so well after all these years? And why did he have to remember? And how did he know that she was trying to think about walls and trees rather than the questions that stood between them? “I was not thinking about anything other than how much I’ve come to dislike you these past years. Offer my father the pair of goats and go find yourself another wife.”
He laughed. It was quiet and low in his throat, but there was no mistaking the sound. “But I don’t want to find another wife. Who else would compare herself to a pair of goats?”
The man was simply exasperating. There was no other word for it. “You are not listening to me. I do not want to marry you.”
“You did once.”
This argument they’d had once before, right after Swanston told her his plans. “I was twelve. It was ten years ago. I have never considered you a stupid man, but to think that my feelings would still be the same is plain silly. And you never gave any indication that you wanted to marry me then. And to be honest, I am not sure that I truly wished to marry you even then—I seem to remember wanting a horse, not you—but even if I did want to marry you, I have changed my mind.” She placed a hand on each hip and stared at him, letting her emotions show clearly on her face, ignoring the heat that raced through her at his closeness, at the dark that held them together as surely as any actual bond.
He took a step forward. She took one back. A high tree rose behind her and there was not much more room to maneuver.
“I can understand why you would feel that way. It was a long time ago and yet I have always felt there was a special connection between us. I was wrong to ignore it for years, but I am ready to give it a chance. Why won’t you?” he asked, his tone reasonable even if his eyes, sparkling in the moonlight, told another story. “As you’ve said, I am a desirable marriage prospect, so why not?”
Her hands slipped behind her, examining the rough bark of the tree. She let her neck fall back until she stared up at the darkness of the branches twining overhead, a spiderweb of wood and leaves. Why not? Why was he worse than any other choice? Deep within her she knew the answer, but she refused to open that door. “Perhaps I simply do not wish to marry, to give up my freedom for the yoke of a husband.”
Moving forward a half step, he left her no room to move. “I do believe that, but given that you must take a husband, why not me? You are here seeking Lady Perse’s invitation, are you not? So clearly you are seeking a husband other than myself. Why?”
A dozen cutting remarks came to her lips, but she allowed none to escape. Why? Why was she so determined to marry any man other than Duldon? And did she owe him an answer? “Does it matter? I do not wish to wed you. Is that not enough of an answer? Why do the details matter?”
Reaching out, he ran a fingertip across her collarbones. “I can assure you the details m
atter. If you had your heart set on another or found me most distasteful, I might be persuaded to drop my suit, but as neither of these seems to be the case…”
A shiver took her at his touch, but she fought it off. Lifting her head, she stared straight into his eyes. A mistake. A thousand worlds shimmered there, worlds she had never explored. No. That too was a mistake. It had to be. This was Duldon. She knew him, knew too much about him. She repeated the litany she tried to teach herself. He was dull. He was boring. He had to be. It was important that she hold on to this thought. If she thought differently she might begin to care—and that could not be allowed. He was boring. He was dull. He was boring. She repeated this thought again and again, hoping to make herself believe it. “I still do not see how it matters. Why would you want a wife who does not want you? How can the reason matter when you are not wanted?”
“Enough.” Again that tone of command filled his voice and she felt the need to obey. “You are growing repetitive. Either give me a solid reason why we should not be wed or accept my wishes.” His fingers traced up her neck until they could wrap about her chin. “You are meant to be mine. Why can you not accept that?”
“And you say I am repetitive.” She worked to hold her voice steady, fighting the urge to agree. “I am not yours. I belong only to myself. That is reason enough for me not to wed you. I do not want a husband who sees me only as a possession.”
“I see you as so much more than a possession, Bliss. Why can you not trust me as you once did?” he growled, something in his voice reminding her far too much of Lord Banks and what she had witnessed only minutes before—and what she had witnessed those years ago. She could feel the heat begin to rise upon her skin again, and could only hope that Duldon could not see her flush, or feel the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.
“But I do not trust you. Whatever I felt as a child, that is the truth now,” she said flatly, hoping he would not demand more of an answer.
He took a half step back at her words but did not release her chin, his eyes still boring into hers. “I do not know what happened to change your feelings. I know I have not been as attentive as I should have these past years, but can you not forgive my lapse?”
If only it were as simple as that, if only she could go back to a time when life was simple, when all it took was caring and trust, when she had no idea that betrayal was possible. “I think not. And it doesn’t matter anyway. I will find my own husband, one who allows me freedom and adventure. I will not marry a man who thinks balancing his account books is the height of entertainment.”
“You are not a child, Bliss. And you know me better than that.”
Perhaps she once had, but she had long conditioned herself to think otherwise. She would keep Duldon in the box she had so carefully put him in. Dull. Restrained. She would not think of the other possibilities, would not remember how well she knew the man was anything but restrained. She forced herself to speak calmly. “Then don’t treat me like one. If I am a woman, give me a woman’s choices. Even the peasants decide whom they will wed.” She knew that was not true, just as she knew how little choice women of her class often had.
“You know better.”
She pulled in a deep breath and could not mistake how his eyes dropped to her bodice for just a moment as her breast pressed tight against the lace edging. Lord Banks had stared at the woman, at Julianna, in a similar manner. Did Duldon have such thoughts about her? No. The very thought was preposterous, and yet that strange ache began to grow deep in her belly at the crux of her legs. “I know that I don’t want to be wed to a man who…who…who…” Blast, why could she not think of a single thing to say? “Who doesn’t even want to kiss me.”
Chapter Four
As she watched, Duldon blinked—and blinked again. His lips began to quiver, a strange sound leaking from them. “Not want to kiss you?” His lips parted and the sound began to sound remarkably like laughter, deep belly laughter. And then he grew still, his fingers tightening about her jaw. “Why would you think I don’t want to kiss you?”
“You’ve certainly never looked at me with lascivious intent. You look at my brothers with as much interest as you look at me.”
“Lascivious intent.” The sound of laughter again leached into his voice. “You are a strange girl, Bliss. You are lucky that I like the unusual. And I certainly don’t wish to kiss your brothers, or any boys for that matter.”
“I don’t feel lucky.” That sounded far too much like a pout. Why could she never hold firm about him? “And, of course, you don’t want to kiss boys. What man would? You just don’t want to kiss me either.”
“Are you sure? I believe I’ve rather frequently thought of kissing you—among other things.” He leaned forward, filling the space between them he had moments ago allowed to open.
His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips.
Bliss swallowed, her own eyes dropping to Duldon’s lips, seemingly thin and hard, but could they also be soft? She forced her glance back to his eyes, staring into the dark depths. She knew where this was going, knew she did not want it to go there, and yet she could not hold back her words. “And why should I believe you? A man can say anything.”
“You do like to play with fire, don’t you, little one?” He leaned farther and she could feel his breath upon her mouth. She should turn her face, turn away, but all she could do was stare at him, watch him stare at her, at her mouth. Was she breathing? She couldn’t tell.
“I…” She couldn’t think. She couldn’t talk. Had she moved forward, and were her lips pressing against his, soft and close-mouthed? It was only the slightest of touches, the briefest brush of skin on skin. His lips were soft. How could they be hard and soft at the same time? She started to pull back, confused by her own actions—and by the shimmer of feeling that began to sweep through her.
“I hope you don’t think that was a kiss? If you think that is a kiss, you’ve never done it right.” This time he moved forward, bending his head slightly to the side as he held her chin firm. His lips pressed hers in a motion not so different from her own of the moment before, and yet there was a world of difference. Her briefest of kisses had been tentative, light, questioning. His was none of those things. His lips started gentle, but second by second the pressure and heat increased. His fingers moved from her chin to the back of her head, cupping her against him.
She’d been kissed before. She had. Or had she? Nothing had prepared her for the fire that could grow on her lips and in her belly at the same time. Nothing had prepared her for the intensity, for the desire to flee and yet to continue forever.
Without thought she pressed her whole body forward, taking the half step to cover the brief space that separated them. His free hand wrapped about her waist in reward, the long fingers delicious as they stroked her through her gown.
A soft moan escaped her mouth, her lips full and swollen beneath his.
As the sound escaped, his tongue swept forward lightly, tickling along the seam of her lips, playing over the swollen spot she’d previously bitten.
That felt good. She would not have expected it to, but there was no denying the pleasure. Curious, she opened her mouth a little. His tongue continued to stroke across her lips, but each time moved a little deeper. She opened more. He swept in, invading but welcome.
He stroked her inner lip, the roof of her mouth, the tender line where gum met tooth.
It should have been disgusting. It really should have. Who would ever want somebody else’s tongue within their mouth? It was quite a horrifying thought—and yet…
For a moment she let herself consider the sensations, analyzing the feelings, but then bit by bit by bit, the sensations won. Her mind quit working, the fog of wonder growing, and the feel of Duldon overtaking all. She pressed herself tighter against him, her breasts swelling with need and want, aching to be free, yet aching also for more pressure, more…God, she didn’t know what, but she wanted it, needed it. It was impossible to imagine not having it, not havi
ng that more.
As if sensing her need, one of his hands crept up between them, his fingers cupping her breast and squeezing softly. Nothing she could remember had ever been so wonderful—and yet it left her so unsatisfied, so wanting. She tried to press tighter, but it was impossible. Moaning against his mouth, she let her own tongue come into play, exploring, seeking, wanting—always wanting. Was there no end to the want that he made rise within her?
Long fingers moved over her breast, playing at the lace edging of her bodice, before slipping in. His fingers found one turgid nipple and squeezed hard, the slightest twist, the further abrasion of tender flesh against the lace border.
God. She felt the tightness in her belly grow; she pressed her legs together, trying to hold it in and yet release it. It tightened and tightened, her whole being caught in lips and breast and—and lower. Something. Something.
He squeezed tighter. A bolt of electricity filled her.
Her eyes closed and she could not think beyond that tightness, that…
He twisted once more, focusing her entire being on that one small piece of flesh. It hurt. It was wonderful. And it grew. It grew and tightened. All the emotions and sensations that she’d felt earlier filled her again; she pressed her legs firm, trying to sooth the ache that grew and grew.
He pinched again. Sensation shot from her nipple to between her legs, an open channel of sensation twisting her tighter and tighter. She moaned again, her whole body filled with need and want.
One more pinch. One more bolt of sensation.
And then it happened. It exploded. Her whole body exploded.
Black. Light. Sensation. Wonder.
Fireworks on a summer evening.
And then peace, even as the final quivers moved through her. Stillness as she could not remember in many a year.
