He sat up, rested his back against a pillow, and pulled her into his arms. “You don’t have to tell me this.”
“I know. It’s really none of your concern but oddly enough I feel that I do need to tell you. That not telling you would be somewhat deceitful.”
“They do say confession is good for the soul.”
“Oh, I’m not especially worried about my soul but I would hate for you to think poorly of me.”
“I would never think poorly of you.” He pulled her tighter to him and brushed a kiss across her forehead.
“I was young, well, younger, and foolish and believed myself in love and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. So it didn’t seem especially wrong.”
“I think we can agree, as he duped you on so many things, this too can be accredited to that.” He thought for a moment. “From what I understand, the man was an expert at maneuvering people into getting what he wanted. It’s not surprising that he managed to seduce you.”
“It wasn’t altogether difficult for him. I . . . I allowed him to seduce me.” She flicked an invisible piece of lint from the blanket. “I should have been smarter, Lord knows I was with other men. But I was engaged and I wasn’t getting any younger and, well . . .” She shifted in his arms, twisted to meet his gaze directly. “I didn’t want to die a virgin.”
He choked back a laugh.
She glared at him. “This is not amusing.”
He grinned. “Yes it is.”
“It’s different for men, you know. Why, you’re expected to sow wild oats and all that. Women have to wait, quietly, patiently, and seemingly forever. Some of us are simply not that patient.”
He laughed.
“Stop that.” She pulled away and folded her arms over her sheet-covered bosom. It was an enticing sight and arousal once again rippled through him. “Now you think I’m the worst sort of tart.”
“Oh, I do hope so.” He tugged her sheet down and leaned forward to run his tongue over her nipple. “I have always loved tarts.”
“Have you?” she said with a gasp.
“Oh my, yes.” He cupped her breasts with his hand and sucked until her head fell back on the pillow and she moaned softly.
“So . . .” Her voice was breathless. “It doesn’t bother you? My fallen nature, that is.”
Obviously, no matter how much effort he put into it, she was not going to be distracted. He heaved a resigned sigh, readjusted her sheet, and sat back against the pillow. He wanted nothing more than to make her promise right here and now that she would never again be in anyone’s bed save his but he was fairly certain this was not the right moment to declare his intentions. “How honest do you want me to be?”
“I don’t know.” Her brow furrowed in concern. “I suppose, given that I worked up the courage to ask, I would prefer you be completely honest.”
“Very well.” He thought for a moment. “I would be lying if I were to say I don’t mind not being the first, the only, man in your bed. Not being the first to taste your luscious flesh. Not being the first to feel the heat of your body surrounding me.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my, Jack, I had no idea you were so . . . descriptive.”
“I can be very descriptive.” He grinned in a wicked manner. “As I was saying, I am entirely too selfish not to mind not being the only man ever to share your bed. I do mind, quite a bit really, that you didn’t wait for me to come into your life before you allowed yourself to be deceived.”
She winced.
“But that was long before we met. He was your fiancé after all and I suspect we’d be surprised by how many engaged couples find themselves unable to wait until the wedding to . . . know each other better.”
“Oh, that sounds much better than deceived,” she said under her breath.
“It’s not as if you then set out on a career of promiscuity and endless affairs.” He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t, did you?”
“Jack.” She gasped and smacked his arm.
“I didn’t think so.” He chuckled.
“You’re awfully progressive for a banker.”
“What I am is a realist. The past is past and cannot be changed. Besides, I would be the worst sort of hypocrite to condemn you for behavior I have indulged in.”
“That’s right. Although you are not exceptionally experienced.” She studied him curiously. “Still, I assume you indulged more than three times with one woman.”
“Well, I didn’t want to die a virgin.”
“Jack.” She huffed. “Do be serious.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t feel particularly serious, I feel . . .” He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose. “Quite delightful, somewhat euphoric, and in an astonishingly good mood.”
She waved off his comment. “Yes, well, so do I but . . .”
“But you now expect me to reciprocate and confess my past transgressions.”
“No, no, of course not.”
“Because I am not about to give you a list of the names of women I have been with, regardless of how long or short that list might be.”
“I would be disappointed in you if you did,” she said staunchly, then paused. “Although I do admit to a bit of curiosity regarding you and Miss Merryweather—”
“Good Lord, Theodosia, absolutely not. The thought never crossed my mind.” Odd, he had never before realized that in spite of how much he had always cared for Lucy, he had never actually wanted her. “Which really should have been an indication as to our true feelings for each other.”
“And it did cross your mind with me?”
“Given our current state of undress, I would think you know the answer to that.”
“Well, yes.” A delightful blush washed up her face. He had no idea a blush could be quite so erotic.
“But if you must know, yes, it crossed my mind. Immediately and constantly. Even worse, you, Lady Theodosia, invaded my dreams.”
She widened her eyes in an innocent manner. “Did I?”
“You can be quite persistent in dreams.” He chuckled. “And extremely wicked.”
“Really? In what way?”
“Let me think.” He shifted to face her, pulled her sheet lower, then ran his finger lightly around her nipple, noting with satisfaction how it tightened at his touch. “In my dreams you were most demanding.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed, you insisted I do any number of things. Like this.” He leaned closer to graze her nipple with his teeth, then flicked it lightly with his tongue.
She shivered. “Did I?”
“You found it delightful.”
“I can see where I would.” A wicked light shone in her eyes. “What else?”
“Oh, all sorts of things.” He grabbed her hips and slid her down the bed, then clasped her wrists in one hand and held them over her head, pinning her to the bed. She was nothing short of delicious, an offering to the gods, or a gift from them. “You did like this.”
“Yes, well, I can see why I would.” Her breasts rose and fell with every breath, a feast for him alone. He wouldn’t have thought it possible but he grew harder with every breath she took. “I feel quite at your mercy. It’s most . . . um . . . exciting.”
“I know.” He smiled down at her. He might not be exceptionally experienced but those experiences he’d had taught him well. “You found this delightful too.” He ran his fingers lightly from the side of her breast down the length of her.
She swallowed hard. “Oh, my.”
“And this.” He leaned over her and trailed his tongue over her stomach. Her muscles tightened and she gasped.
He slipped his hand between her legs and nudged them open. Her legs widened for him without hesitation. His fingers parted her and slid over her slick core.
“Oh . . . my . . .” She moaned and the sound nearly undid him. Still, he could wait.
“You especially liked this,” he murmured. He bent close and replaced his finger with tongue.
; She gasped and her back arched. “Oh, my God, Jack!”
He turned his head and looked up at her. “Of course, that was in my dreams. If, awake, you don’t find that especially—”
“Good Lord, Jack, if you stop now . . .” She rocked her hips upward. “I would be forced—”
Somewhere in the recesses of the house, a clock chimed and she stilled. “What time is it?”
“It’s only midnight.”
“My mother could be home at any minute.” Panic widened her eyes.
“That would be awkward.”
“Awkward is the least of it.” She squirmed in an effort to escape his grip. “Jack! Release me at once.”
He heaved a frustrated sigh. “If you insist.”
“It does seem best at the moment!”
“Not for me,” he muttered but released her wrists nonetheless.
“Don’t think this is any easier for me than it is for you.” She sat up and glanced around the room for her clothing. “I was quite, well . . .” She cast him a wicked smile. “I shall expect you to finish what you started at some point.”
“My pleasure.” He returned her grin, got to his feet, and held out his hand to help her up.
“If my mother were to discover us it would be more than merely awkward.” She took his hand, slid out of bed, and began collecting her clothes. “She’d demand you marry me at once.”
“Extremely awkward then.” Still . . . He grabbed her from behind, settled back on the bed, pulling her back onto his lap and back into his arms, where she belonged. “But well worth the risk.”
“Oh God, Jack, we can’t . . .” Her protest was weak and she struggled against him in a half-hearted manner that belied her feeble objection.
“Are you sure?” He nuzzled the back of her neck.
“I’m not sure of anything when you . . .” She wiggled her bottom slowly against his erection in a most seductive manner.
“I like it when you’re unsure . . .” he murmured against her neck.
He held her tight with one hand, slipped the other around her and between her legs. She was again wet with desire and he stroked her until she whimpered and her head fell back on his shoulder.
“Although, I suppose if you think we should get dressed . . .”
“You are a wicked, wicked man.” Her voice was thick and she could barely get out the words. She rocked slowly against his hand. “And I am a wanton tart.”
“I told you.” He clasped her waist, lifted her up, and turned her around to face him. She straddled him, his cock wedged hard between them. “I like tarts.”
She drew a deep shuddering breath. “Good.”
She lowered herself onto him, her gaze meeting his in challenge or acknowledgement. Her green eyes darkened with desire. She encompassed him, surrounded him, drowned him in her heat. He groaned with the feel of him seated deeply inside her.
She rose up on her knees then slid slowly down, the sensation shooting through him. And he shuddered. “Good God, Theodosia . . .”
“This . . . this changes nothing . . .” Her head fell back, and her breasts jutted forward, her hips rolling against him. “I have no intention of marrying you.”
“I don’t recall asking.” He buried his face between her breasts and thrust upward deeper into her.
“You’re the kind of man . . .” She struggled for breath. “Who thinks something like this . . . calls for marriage.”
“Am I?” Cupping her breasts with his hands, he lavished attention on one, then the next. Tugging gently with his teeth, sucking at her nipples, flicking the responsive flesh with his tongue.
“You know you are. Oh God yes. . .” Her breath caught. Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“That’s not my sole purpose . . .”
She rocked her hips against his, riding him faster, harder. “We were talking . . . about marriage.”
“You were talking about marriage.” He gripped her waist, guiding her up and down. Every movement pure pleasure. “I have other things . . . on my mind . . . at the moment.”
“My plans do not . . . include marriage.” She panted, riding him harder.
“I am well aware of that.”
“As long as you know . . .”
“Know this then. Plans . . .” He thrust up into her. “My dear Theodosia . . .” God, the feel of her enveloping him nearly drove him mad. He thrust again. “Change.”
“Not . . . mine.” Her breath came faster.
“ Mine . . . have . . .”
Her muscles tightened. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly opened, the expression on her face as close to pain as pleasure. Beautiful and wondrous. She moaned and shuddered around him, pushing him over the edge of oblivion. He stroked hard again and surrendered.
And knew, as the world again exploded around him, he could never let her go.
It was much more difficult to help Theodosia back into her clothes than it had been to get her out of them. And not nearly as much fun. But fairly quickly, they returned to the dining room.
“I should go.”
She nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze locked on hers. “You’re reluctant to see me go, aren’t you?”
She smiled slowly. “Why yes, Jack, I believe I am.”
“Good.” He pulled her into his embrace. “Are you ready to face Nottwood?”
“When?”
“Tomorrow?”
She cringed. “So soon?”
He nodded. “Now that we have a plan, I see no reason to put it off. Do you?”
“Other than the fact that I’d prefer never to set eyes on him again, no I suppose not.”
“Send him a note the first thing in the morning asking for a meeting.” His gaze bored into hers. “I won’t let you see him alone.”
“I don’t want to do this alone but I would very much like to be the one to tell him.”
Jack nodded.
She hesitated. “You do realize this might not work.”
“It’s a risk but we have enough, I think.” He studied her. “But it’s your family that’s at stake. If you don’t want to take the chance—”
“No, let’s do it.” She smiled. “I believe I could face anything with you by my side.”
“When that’s done, we’ll return to Millworth, along with your mother, of course. Christmas Eve is only a few days away and we’ve been gone far too long. God knows what my parents have been up to in our absence.”
“There is that.”
“Besides, I have no intention of leaving you alone in London once we confront Nottwood. I want you where I know you’ll be safe.”
“Very well.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to protest? Claim you can take care of this on your own?”
“Absolutely not. I agree with you.”
He studied her closely. “You agree with me?”
“Certainly.” She grinned. “On this particular point.”
“I suppose I’ll take what I can get.” He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her, then reluctantly released her.
“Tomorrow then?” A slight breathless note still sounded in her voice. If he didn’t leave now, he never would.
“Oh, you’re still here, Mr. Channing. How nice.” Lady Sallwick’s voice rang from the corridor.
“How was Sir Malcomb’s dinner, Mother?” Confidence sounded in Theodosia’s voice but Jack noted a slight tensing in her shoulders.
“Delightful, just delightful.” Lady Sallwick beamed. “Everyone had a wonderful time. I daresay, there are any number of gentlemen in attendance who will be calling on us for dinner parties of their own.” Satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. “And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if at least one, or more, called on me privately.”
“Mother!” Theodosia’s eyes widened.
“Oh don’t look at me that way, dear. I’m not dead yet. I still have a few good years left and I wouldn’
t mind spending those years with an appropriate gentleman.”
“This does strike me as a conversation that should remain strictly between a mother and a daughter.” Jack grinned and edged toward the door. “So, until tomorrow then—”
“Not so fast, Mr. Channing.” Lady Sallwick’s voice was abruptly somber. “I’m almost afraid to ask and obviously the two of you have put in a great deal of effort as you both look a bit disheveled but have you and Theodosia found anything of worth?”
Theodosia glanced at him and Jack nodded. “We think so. In fact, I’m fairly confident of it.”
“Thank God.” Relief washed across the older woman’s face. “And thank you, Mr. Channing.”
“You could call me Jack, you know.”
“I could but I would prefer not to,” she said in a lofty tone. “However, I wouldn’t be at all averse to Jackson.”
He chuckled.
“Jackson and Theodosia,” Lady Sallwick said in a musing manner. “It has a lovely ring to it.”
“Doesn’t it though?” he said and glanced at Theodosia. Her eyes narrowed slightly but she held her tongue. “I was thinking the very same thing myself.”
“We shall see you in the morning, Jack,” Theodosia said firmly. “Good evening.”
He grinned. “Good evening, Theodosia. Lady Sallwick.”
“Good evening, Jackson.” Lady Sallwick smiled.
Jack turned and took his leave, the ladies’ conversation trailing behind him.
“. . . to Millworth tomorrow.”
“Oh, I can’t possibly. I would hate . . . On second thought, that’s a splendid idea. One doesn’t want to be too available . . .”
He chuckled to himself. Theodosia was right. He was the sort of man who expected marriage to accompany an intimate encounter with the woman he loved. But he had no intention of arguing the point with her. Not now anyway.
A vague plan was forming in the back of his mind about his future but until he had it much more in hand, it was pointless to say anything. Regardless, all his plans included her at his side, as his wife. He would have it no other way.
Jackson Quincy Graham Channing, youngest vice-president in the history of Graham, Merryweather and Lockwood Banking and Trust, had never especially had to pursue anything he wanted. There had never been any particular need. He had been given very nearly everything. He was rich and he was privileged and life had been fairly easy. Nor had he taken advantage of his position. He had lived up to all that was expected of him, he had followed the rules laid out for him by his family, society, and even the bank. He’d never been the subject of scandal or gossip. He had trodden a path that was acceptable, respectable, and possibly dull. No, he had never really had to fight for anything but then there had never been anything he had wanted that he didn’t have.
The Shocking Secret of a Guest at the Wedding (Millworth Manor) Page 32
