by Lavinia Kent
She walked about the piles of pillows that decorated the floor. Sleep had been hard to come by after the encounter with Thorton last night and in truth she wanted nothing more than to sink down and rest her head. That would, however, put her at a disadvantage when James arrived, something she could not afford to allow.
Butterflies danced in her belly. She’d made a decision in the early hours of the morning, one she knew she must keep, but still nerves filled her.
It might be the only truly possible decision, but did that make it the right one?
Trying to distract herself, she strode over to the two Roman columns and ran a finger down one. It was wood painted to look like marble, but still very strong and firm. She grabbed one of the strange rings and pulled. It didn’t give at all. Stepping back, she tried to imagine their purpose.
Remembering the bed wrapped with silk scarves she’d seen in one of the other bedchambers, she let her imagination roam. Still holding one ring she reached across to the other column. Yes, that would work. It would be easy to bind her wrists and, she glanced down, her ankles, to hold her splayed and captive.
What would that feel like, to be tied here completely at James’s mercy—or lack thereof? Would he torture her—and how? She didn’t imagine actual pain, but she’d learned the pain of need and desire could be equally pressing.
When he’d held her at the brink of orgasm she would have agreed to anything to find release. Was torture the same, the building of pain until one would do anything for it to end? And how much difference was there between pain and pleasure?
Her whole body flushed as these thoughts filled her. James had given her a little pain as he’d pushed her body further and further and it had done nothing but increase her need, her desire. What would it be like to be pushed even further?
Her breasts grew heavy and she could feel dampness at the top of her thighs and an ache began to grow between them. She spread her legs, placed her ankles against the pillars, tried to imagine herself tied and helpless. Would she like it? Her breathing grew faster.
“Now, isn’t that a pretty picture,” James’s voice came from the doorway. The door clicked closed behind him.
She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she had not heard it open.
Raising her head, she stared at him. He wore a simple dark jacket over light breeches. The crisp white of his linen was impeccable. His boots were glossed to a high shine.
Her hands dropped from the rings and with a pretend nonchalance she walked to the center of the room. “I was not expecting you quite yet.”
“I arrived a little early,” he answered.
Polite chitchat.
She looked away, suddenly unsure that she should have agreed to this meeting. “Jasmine said you wished to talk to me.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you needed her to tell you that. Why did you run from my home? What upset you so much?”
Her eyes turned back to him. “As Jasmine has probably told you, I found out you arranged the abduction. I knew that you would never let me leave if you knew how angered I was. You set this all in motion and you were not even honest with me. Why could you simply not tell me?”
He strode to the center of the room and stared at the pillows, but did not sink down to sit. “Do you want the truth?”
“Of course. Why else would I ask?” She moved nearer to him, but stopped several feet away. If she moved closer she would be overwhelmed by his height.
“I did not tell you at first because I did not think it mattered and I thought you worked for Jasmine. The last thing I wanted was for you to go running back to her with such a tale. At that point I was still determined to stop her from pursuing this life.”
“And you have changed now?” That seemed unbelievable to her.
“I will not go that far, but I have accepted that I cannot force her decision. I can do my best to change her mind, to offer her alternatives, but I cannot force her.” He gave a wry laugh. “I think I’ve even agreed to play with the baby. Can you imagine me with a baby? I am not sure I’ve held one in my entire life.”
James with a baby? She could imagine that all too easily. And what of the rest? If he was willing to trust Jasmine to make her own decisions, could he learn to trust her? Was there hope that they could have a real marriage? “That is good. I think once you have held Hope you will begin to understand your sister’s choices a little more.”
“I doubt I will ever understand why she did not marry the father in the beginning.”
Cynthia still wondered that herself, but would never confess so to James. “I think we can only trust her that it was not possible. We will probably never know the truth.” And where had that we come from? Was she suddenly thinking of them as a couple, a team?
James stared at her, his brows drawn together as if trying to determine the secret message of her words. “Probably not,” he answered.
“I am glad that you have reached such a decision. It is good that you recognize her right to decide her own life.”
“My father will not feel the same.”
“I am very aware that he regards her as his property.” She glanced down at her pale hands, twisting in the skirt of a simple white dress. Property? Was she, too, to become property?
“I did not say that.”
She lifted her head again. “You did not have to, and I highly doubt that you came here to discuss your sister. Why don’t you get to what you really wish to say, James.”
His eyes glinted as they stared into hers. Could he see her change of mind?
“First, I am sorry for the way that everything happened, but perhaps not sorry for the results.”
She raised a brow.
He continued, “I am not sorry to have rediscovered you. I know it has not been long, but I truly do feel we would suit for marriage. I remember you as a girl, so big-hearted and kind, and I see that you are still the same person.”
Well, that was positive, but still not truly as much as she wanted. “I could say the same of you. You seem very much the same as you were as a young man, the same faults and the same strengths. Although I cannot imagine the young man ever being willing to admit his fault or to grant that his sister had the right to make her own decisions.”
He smiled. “And I am assuming you consider that strength, not weakness.”
“Yes.”
“Then I will continue. I am deeply sorry that you got caught up in my abduction plans. And even more sorry that I took advantage of you—even if I did so unknowingly.”
“About that—do you mean that it would have been fine if you had taken me in my sleep if I had been one of Madame Blanche’s girls?”
“I was asleep myself when your fabulous ass began to rub against me. Not knowing your innocence, I could only believe that you were initiating contact.”
“And does that happen regularly?” She could not believe she had asked either of these last questions.
He held her gaze. “All I will say is that it has happened.”
She would have to be content with that. “Fine. I will accept that you are sorry that you ravaged me.”
“I don’t think I—”
“I am teasing. I don’t know quite what word to use for what happened between us, but I was not completely blameless. I should have tried to stop you and I did not. You pulled back quickly enough once you realized. And I also know that if I had told you who I was the night before, when I realized you did not know, then nothing would have happened. You would have wrapped me in the blankets on the cot while you sat up all night in the chair.”
“You are probably right. I know I would not have lain next to you. Although, I am not sure that it would have changed where we stand now. I would still have believed it necessary that we marry.”
“I imagine you might have been even less happy about it, however.”
He straightened his shoulders. “I am not unhappy.”
“You keep referring to marriage as something that is necessary or that we have
to do. You never say it is something you want to do.”
“Is that what you want? For me to wish to marry you? If so, I can assure you that I do. It has taken me a few days to truly adjust to the idea of marriage, I admit. But now that I have considered it, I can say that I do want to marry you.”
Really? Her heart sped at the thought, but could she trust him? She’d never known him to lie, but he was not above twisting the truth, holding something back. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Why would I not want to marry you? You are beautiful, of good family, you make me laugh, and I have seen the depth of your heart. And you have the best ass I’ve ever seen.”
Heat rose on her cheeks. The man did talk a good story. “I am sure you could find a dozen women who meet those criteria.”
“It’s harder than one would think to find someone who makes you laugh. I’ve certainly never met another woman who would fight me in the freezing mud and not complain afterward. And, to be honest, even without what happened later, it was one of the best times I’ve had in years.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” She hadn’t really thought about it, but it had been bloody good fun. And as for what had happened later…
“And so we are getting to the heart of the matter, although you have still not said how you feel about me.”
I’ve been half in love with you for longer than I can remember. I thought I was over it, but now I fear I never will be. “I have always been fond of you.”
“Such warm praise. I can hardly contain myself.” He did not look at all disturbed.
She didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at him, trying to keep her focus on his eyes, to not let them drop to his lips, to not remember how delicious his kisses were or any of the other things of which that mouth was capable.
He stared back for a moment and then suddenly stepped forward and dropped to one knee like a character in a Shakespearean drama. “Will you do me the honor of becoming by wife, Miss Westhope?”
She’d been dreading this moment. She’d known it was coming, had known it was unavoidable, but still she wished it had not arrived. As long as it lay in the future she could keep hoping for magic, hoping that her girlish dreams would yet come true. “Yes.”
“What?” His eyes grew wide and his mouth opened and closed like a fish blowing bubbles.
It was almost worth it just to see his expression. “Yes, I will marry you.”
“You will?”
She’d never seen him look at such a loss for words. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?” She turned and walked away from him, stopping to run her fingers over one of the colorful draperies. It was embroidered with dragons, bright and beautiful—and free.
“I do not want to force you.” He walked toward her, the sound of his heels giving him away.
“It doesn’t really matter what you want any more than it matters what I do. We must wed. I realized that last night with Lord Thorton. I am sure Jasmine told you about him. I was so frightened. I thought my life as I knew it was finished. When I believed he was going to drag me downstairs and expose me, I could not bear it. I felt that I would rather die than face that.”
Did he look disappointed? “Don’t talk in such a way.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I would have survived. I know that, but I also know that I don’t ever want to face that fear again. And so I must wed you.”
Chapter 22
This was not what he wanted. James watched Sin’s slender fingers worry at the fabric of her dress and he wanted to wrap his own hands about them to calm them. He truly did wish to wed her, but he also wanted a willing wife. “I will be a good husband, Sin.”
She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him. “I don’t believe you. No, that’s not quite right. I simply don’t trust that you will carry through with what you say. I think you will mean to be a good husband, but I am not sure that you know what that means.”
“I will be faithful, if that is what you are talking about.”
“That is good to know, but it’s not exactly what I mean.”
She still didn’t sound like she believed him, and damn it, he meant it. He’d seen the pain his father had caused his mother by having a mistress and he would never do that to a woman, particularly one who would be the mother of his children. Sin. Mother. Baby. Child. Now, didn’t that plant a whole new series of images in his mind? He’d never found gravid women attractive, but the thought of Sin’s belly swelling with his child was something else entirely. It made him want to toss her on those pillows and get started on the process immediately, assuming…“Are you with child? Is that why you have agreed to wed me?”
Her eyes flashed. “I won’t have an answer to that for another week. I am marrying you for exactly the reason I stated—or don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you completely.” And strangely he did. “Although next time I’ll make sure to lock you in at night. You seem to be lacking in common sense. First, you ride across the country by yourself and then through London in the wee hours of the night and then, second, you go wandering about a whorehouse unaccompanied. It is no wonder that you found trouble.” His continued fury at Thorton colored his words and his tone.
She turned to him fully and now her eyes were clouded. “A moment ago I was having a hard time explaining why it is I don’t trust you and now you have made it all too apparent. I don’t trust you to trust me. You just said you did, but you clearly have no faith that I can make decisions for myself. You will always do what you think is best no matter what I want. You will always think that you are right and I am lacking in sense.”
“You must admit…”
“I admit nothing. Have you looked at your own actions? It was you and not me who put us in this position, you and your silly idea that you needed to save your sister and so you abducted her and then you were so sure that any woman must find you irresistible that you…”
“I’ve already said I’ve changed my mind about Jasmine. And if you had told me who you were then everything would have ended right there.”
“You’ve already admitted that it was too late even then. From the moment we were trapped at the cabin there was no choice but for us to wed. My actions made no difference.”
They stood glaring at each other, anger rising, but also heat.
He could see her breasts heave, see the rapid pulse at her neck, see her pupils grow large and dark with desire.
Taking a step forward, he watched for every clue to her response. His own heart was speeding and blood surged through his veins. God she was gorgeous with her eyes shooting fire and high color on her cheeks.
His gaze dropped to her lips, full, damp, inviting. “And what if I think your actions made all the difference. I could have been there with a dozen different women and not ended up here, not felt like this.”
“Leave it to you to mention a dozen different women in the midst of your proposal.” Her tongue wet that lush lower lip.
“I think the proposal is finished. You agreed and I am not letting you off. Now we are just negotiating the exact terms of our agreement.”
“I am not quite sure that is how I see it.” Her breath brushed over his lips.
He leaned in until only inches separated them. “And how do you see it?”
“I see it as being forced to do something against my better judgment. It is not what I wanted.”
“And what do you want?” He moved that final bit and pressed his lips against hers, softly, giving her every chance to pull back.
She did not.
He pressed the kiss, and then pulled back. “Do you want this?” Another kiss.
No words left her mouth.
He pulled back. “Well, if you don’t want…”
Her hands came up and tangled in his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers. “Blast you,” he heard her mumble.
And then there was no talking.
Lips pressed. Tongues danced.
Her body pressed against his, the tension that ha
d risen between them giving way in deluge. One of his hands found that wondrous ass, fingers digging in tight. The other rose to the top of her bodice, dipping below the ribbon edging.
A moan. He could not have said which one of them it came from.
Another moan. That one was his.
His fingers worked their way down, about her breast, his thumb brushing over her hard nipple despite the constriction of the fabric.
That moan was definitely hers. He could feel its vibration on his lips, taste its urgency.
He pushed his hips against her, his cock finding comfort in the softness of her belly. He thrust and released. God that felt good. The hand on her ass grabbed tighter, frantic.
He needed her now. Needed release now. He’d forced himself to have control for days and now it was all lost. He quickly began to bunch her skirts, eager to feel her flesh, her softness.
Damn, he could smell her arousal. She wanted him every bit as much as he needed her.
Finally, he felt the velvet of her skin. His hand opened wide, grabbing all it could, the tips of his fingers slipping into the cleft of her ass, gripping, kneading, wanting.
He pushed his cock firmer against her, feeling it swell and ache.
One of her hands swept about him and cupped his ass, pulling him tighter.
The hand about her breast squeezed, the thumb pushing back to…With a loud rip her bodice tore, his fingers suddenly unencumbered.
His lips moved from her mouth, down to her chin, her neck, eager to feast on the bounty below.
And then she pushed him hard, stepping back.
He stood still for a moment, disoriented.
“No,” she said. Her hair haloed her head in a glorious mess, her lips were red from his kisses, one breast peeked out, the pink nipple hard and begging.
He stepped nearer to her, drawn beyond reason.
She held up a hand. “No.”
God, he wasn’t sure whether more blood was pounding in his head or his cock. “No?”
“No.” Her voice was firm, with only the slightest quaver. “I have changed my mind. I do want to negotiate.”
