by Em Taylor
Lord Rose-Reid, urged her to climb back into bed and settled the baby back in her arms. Then he leaned over her and placed a delicate kiss on her lips.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Please, call me Jason.”
“I shall.”
She saw the flicker of disappointment cross his gaze when she did not offer him the same compliment—to allow him to call her Sophia.
“Good night, my lady.”
“Good night, Jason.”
Damn, she had to keep him at arms’ length. He was burrowing under her skin and the temptation to draw him into a proper kiss, to invite him to put Oscar in his makeshift crib and crawl into bed with her, had been overwhelming. But she would not do it.
She would stay strong for her son’s sake. Oscar needed her. She could not become silly over a man.
∞ ∞ ∞
Jason did not sleep for the rest of the night. He tossed and turned and considered using his hand to relieve the aching cockstand he had. But with Lady Rutherford just through the wall, it seemed like bad form to him. She may be the cause of it, but he would not sully the idea of any relationship he might have with her, by stroking himself to orgasm just yards away from her.
It was damned uncomfortable though. And when he closed his eyes, all he could see was that breast peeking out above Oscar’s crying face, tormenting him, calling to him, teasing him. That innocent babe and that beautiful breast. She had eventually realised and tucked it back inside her chemise. Thank God. But the damage to his sanity had been done.
As soon as it was a normal enough time for him to get up, he washed and dressed, then had a light breakfast. Then he headed out to the stables. He could not stay in the house with her. She was too tempting. He would never take her by force. He abhorred men who did that. But he could be charming when he wished. He was sure if he set his mind to it, he could charm the garters off Lady Rutherford.
Light footsteps behind him made him glance back. The clipped noise of the heel on the floor told him it was not a stable boy or a man. And there was only one woman likely to be in the stables. She had on her greatcoat again and the bulge at the front told him that Oscar was strapped to her front as he had been yesterday. Her bag was in her hand.
“Going somewhere?”
She leapt back from the horse she was patting with a little start. He recognised the mare as Lady Rutherford’s own horse.
“It is none of your business.”
“It is when a lady is going on a suicide mission. It is my job to protect her. Perhaps I need to hitch some horses to a carriage and head straight for Bedlam.”
“I am not fit for Bedlam, my lord. I just do not believe I should sit and wait for Mr Benson to come here with his men and kill me and my son.”
“So instead you shall ride out in the snow and allow the frost and cold to get you. Tell me, Lady Rutherford, of what are you really afraid? That you may be attracted to a man who is not old enough to be your own father? Or that you are attracted to a man at all?”
Good God, this was not holding out oats to a skittish horse. This was grabbing its reins, jumping atop it and trying to ride the damned thing.
“I do not know what you mean, my lord. I am not a prisoner here. I am free to leave if I wish.”
“You are, but I will be most perturbed when I find your body, and more importantly, Oscar’s body a few miles from here once the snow thaws. It seems rather a shame to flee those trying to murder you, only to succumb to the winter snows, giving Benson exactly what he wants, without even the danger of him ending up on the gallows.”
“Why are you so sure I shall not survive?”
“You do not have anywhere to go.”
“I do.”
“Where are you going?” Her lips tightened. He chuckled without mirth. “As I suspected. You have no plan, my lady. How can you survive without a plan? Pray, please at least assure me you took, or stole some food from the kitchen before setting off.”
Her glare was mutinous.
“I shall be fine until I get to an inn.”
“Just as you were fine until you reached Aelton Manor? My lady, if your horse had not wandered off and I had not looked out of the window just as it trotted past, you would be dead and no one would know.”
Bright tears shone in her eyes and Lady Rutherford bit her lip. He unbuttoned her greatcoat and removed the sleeping baby from the shawl wrapped around her, just as he heard more footsteps in the stable.
“Ah Reid.”
“Whitsnow, can you take Oscar inside please and give him to Maggie to look after for a few minutes?”
“Uh, yes, I suppose…” his voice trailed off as his gaze settled on the bag, then on Lady Rutherford’s teary gaze, which had not left his. Whitsnow took the child with alacrity and disappeared.
“We could have died,” she said weakly.
“You could, but you did not.”
“But Jason, what if…”
“Shhh! All is well my lady.”
“Sophia. My given name is Sophia.”
He pulled her into his embrace and she sagged against his strong body. The warmth of her small frame against his felt like a balm to his soul. He rested his cheek on the top of her head as she sniffed against his waistcoat.
She lifted her head to speak to him, but her lips were so inviting he could not help but drop his head and kiss her. She made a little noise of surprise and jerked her head back slightly. He followed and pressed his lips to hers again. This time, she lifted her hand to his cheek and accepted his kiss, opening her mouth to allow his tongue to invade.
When he walked her back to press her against the wall, there seemed to be an inevitability about it. He had sensed this almost from the moment he had plucked her from the snow. She was beautiful, vibrant, sensual and aroused him in a way no other woman ever had. Not even the courtesans who were practised in the art of seduction.
He inched her gown up enough to give her room to spread her legs as he lifted her onto his thigh.
She moaned as she began to rub herself against him. He pressed her pert bottom harder against him, so that her hip moved deliciously against his throbbing length.
“Jason,” she gasped as she pulled away from him to gulp in some air.
“God, Sophia, you are so perfect.”
“This is…”
“Right?”
“How can it be if we are not married?”
“You like it though and you are no innocent. Do you like it?”
“You know I do.” Yes, he knew she did. So why did it feel as if he was deflowering a virgin? She was rubbing herself fervently against him. “Jason, what is this. What is happening?”
He blanched. “You have not experienced this with your husband?”
“It feels strange.”
“Shh, keep going. You shall enjoy it. I promise you.” He caught her lips in another searing kiss, in the hopes of distracting her and stopping her worrying. In the hope that she would be so caught up that she could let herself go. He tugged down her gown and chemise and cupped her breast. He was gentle, not knowing if she would like his touch when she was feeding the babe but she moaned her pleasure again into his mouth and he had to stop himself from smiling. She was so responsive.
His cock was hard, pressing at the fall of his breeches to be released and much as he wanted to, he could not. This was for her. Pleasure pulsed through him at the mere idea of her stroking him in time to her own thrusts. The woman in his arms was nearing her peak. He thrust his own hips, to give them both more friction. If he spilled in his breeches, so be it.
“Jason. Oh Jason. What…? Oh… O-o-o-h!” She ground herself hard against him, clinging to him. It was then he realised his hand at her breast was also damp.
Well that had never happened to him before. But then he had never bedded a nursing mother before. He grinned as he held her trembling body. He was not sure who was more surprised in this moment, Sophia over having just had her first orgasm or himself over having bre
ast milk on his hand. It looked like, if this sweet woman ever allowed him into her bed, then her breasts would be off limits until Oscar was eating solids.
Sophia clung to him, her breathing ragged, her hips still rocking slightly as she burrowed her face into his waistcoat.
“That was not very ladylike,” she managed eventually.
“I never claimed to be a lady,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. She tapped him on the chest and giggled.
“You know what I mean, my lord.”
“If it is any consolation, I thought you looked beautiful during your orgasm.”
“Is that what that was?”
“It was. So I was correct in my assumption that you have not had one before?”
“No. Should I?”
“I do hate to speak ill of the dead, my dear, but you late husband has been very remiss. You should experience that every time you make love. You did make love more than once, did you not?”
“Twice a week.”
“Twice a week?”
“Yes. On Tuesday and Saturday nights.”
“Never on the spur of the moment, just because you felt like it?”
“Um, well that happened twice.”
“How long were you married?”
“Four years.”
“And you had sex twice a week?”
“Well, not when I had my courses.”
“Obviously not.”
“That would be messy.”
“Are your courses regular?”
“Very.”
“Well thank heavens for that. You would not wish to mess with the schedule.”
She stood back a little and he removed his knee from between her legs. He felt suddenly a little bereft.
“My lord, are you making fun of me.”
“Not of you, Sophia. Never of you.”
“Then of my late husband.”
“Perhaps a little.”
“That is unkind.”
“It is unkind to be married to a woman for four years, take pleasure from her body and never give it in return.”
“I got pleasure.”
“Not proper pleasure.”
“I did not need an orgasm,” she said haughtily.
“And yet, you came apart in my arms so easily.”
Sophia pursed her lips and adjusted her clothing.
“You are a brute. This was a mistake. I must have momentarily lost my mind.”
“You did. You lost it because you were lusting after a real man, Sophia.”
“That is it. I am leaving.” She stormed around him as he wiped his hand on some hay and fastened his greatcoat to hide the bulge in his breeches.
“And you and your baby shall still die of cold. The circumstances have not changed because you found sexual satisfaction in my arms. Stop being a ninny and get back in the house. I came out here to do something manual to deal with my sexual frustration. Now nothing short of sinking into you is going to deal with that curse. Come, let us go and have tea with Whitsnow. It shall soon be lunch time.”
“You are a brute,” she repeated.
“So you said.” He walked over to her and kissed her gently. “But you still like my kisses and my orgasms, so you shall stay until the thaw at least.”
She narrowed her eyes at him then lifted her skirts and stormed back to the house.
Jason watched her pert little backside in the oversized great coat and felt a sense of satisfaction. He liked her. He could more than like her given half a chance. And he would enjoy taming that skittish horse. It seemed she liked the oats he had to offer.
Chapter 5
Sophia was mad at herself. As a result, she had remained in her room with the baby the rest of the day. She had told Maggie she felt a little under the weather. Maggie had brought her food and drinks to her room. But now it was dinner time and it would be rude not to accept Lord Whitsnow’s hospitality and go down for dinner.
She arrived in the drawing room to find Jason on his own, looking immaculate in silk evening knee breeches, and an evening coat. A snow-white cravat was intricately knotted, though not ostentatiously and tucked under a blue waistcoat with silver thread, which brought out the colour of his eyes. He was drinking brandy and gazing into the fire. He stood when Sophia walked in. She felt dowdy in her dark green day dress. She had not brought any evening gowns since she had only brought necessities. His gaze, however roamed possessively up her body and she wanted to squirm away from his attentions.
“Is Lord Whitsnow still in his bedchamber?”
“I fear he is and shall not be joining us. He cast up his accounts during afternoon tea and has been sent to bed by Mrs Gardner, the housekeeper. He is complaining, of course, but she is not a lady with whom to be trifled.”
“Oh dear. I hope he recovers soon.”
“Yes. Poor chap. He did look really rather green. Would you like a brandy before dinner?”
“No, thank you. I do not drink strong liquor. Octavius said ladies should not drink the strong stuff.”
“Did he now? He really does seem to have dampened your fun.”
“Being foxed is hardly fun, my lord.”
“Have you tried it?”
“Of course not.”
“Then how would you know?”
“I… I… You really are a vexing man, Lord Rose-Reid.”
“Oh come now, Sophia. We have discussed this. I would prefer you call me Jason.” He walked over to her and bent his head so his lips were at her ear. Excitement and horror warred within her. “You cannot call the man who gave you your first orgasm by his title. It is rather lowering.”
“My Lord!”
“That is also rather lowering.”
“Please.”
He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. A frisson of awareness ran up her arm. She tried to ignore it. Then he placed his brandy glass in her hand.
“Sip it slowly. You really need to loosen up.”
He meandered over to the sideboard and poured himself another.
“But you have drunk from this glass.”
“My dear, if you were going to catch anything from me, you would have caught it in the stables this morning. Now be a good girl and drink up.”
He turned and gave her a satisfied smile over the rim of his glass. She wanted to refuse it, but part of her wanted to try it. He was actually daring her. Did he not think she would?
She took a large mouthful and swallowed. It burned as it scraped its way down her throat, taking the lining of her gullet with it, she was sure. She started to cough and splutter, grabbing her throat as Jason ran to her and started patting her on the back.
“Damn, woman. I said sip it.”
“I…” cough “you…” cough “but…” cough.
“Stop trying to speak. Sit down. Good god, horses are so much easier to break in than women.”
Sophia sat and coughed and coughed some more. Jason offered her a handkerchief and eventually the coughing eased. He offered her the glass again. She looked at him in horror.
“No,” she rasped.
“If you sip it this time, it should actually remove the burn from your throat.”
She glared at him, not fully trusting his judgement. But she did try it. And this time, the sip did go down much easier and did soothe a little. He raised his eyebrows and she nodded.
“Why did you say horses are easier to break in than women?”
Jason frowned.
“Nothing. It was just something ridiculous that Whitsnow said.”
“I am intrigued, my lord.”
“Is your throat better.”
“An evasive manoeuvre. Well played.”
“My lord, dinner is ready.”
The look of relief on Jason’s face as the butler came in to announce dinner, told Sophia that the ‘breaking in’ remark was something she did not want to know about. But that just intrigued her more.
He offered her his arm and she took it. The small dining room was set so that he wa
s at the head of the table and she was seated next to him rather than at the end of the table. She appreciated that. She’d hated always being so far away from Octavius and the formality of their dinners even though it had just been the two of them. It was odd that she had never considered the things she disliked in her marriage until this past day.
What happened in the stable with Jason had been a revelation. When her body had exploded with pleasure like that, she had felt nothing but euphoria. She was sure her muscles inside had been pulsing and wondered what it would feel like to have a male member inside her when that happened.
“You seem deep in thought.” Jason’s voice interrupted her pleasant, slightly erotic wool-gathering. It had been his male member and not her late husband’s she had been considering. She had not got a good look at it, but Jason’s had been bigger than that of Octavius. She was sure. Maybe it shrunk with age. She could hardly ask that. “Sophia!”
“Hmm?” She glanced at Jason. “I was thinking about cocks.” Oh dear. “I mean, is there a cockerel that awakens you in the morning at Aelton?”
Jason grinned. She obviously had not fooled him. “No, not at the dower house at least.”
“Oh, well, Oscar usually wakens me early anyway. I hope he does not disturb you tonight.”
“I shall not mind if he does.”
“Do you want me to ask Robert, I mean Whitsnow if we can get a cock…erel?”
“Oh no. Tis fine.”
“Good.” He took a drink of his wine, but when he replaced his glass he was still smirking.
“Do you have brothers and sisters, my lord?”
“It is Jason, and yes, I do. My sister Joanna and my brother Jerome. My mother had a penchant for unusual names taken from the Bible. If the person was only mentioned once, she named one of her children after them.”
“I see. And all beginning with the letter J?”
“Yes. She never said if she planned that or if it was a coincidence. Though I suspect nothing my mother does is coincidental.”
“Jason is a nice name.”
“I know of no one else named Jason. It is ridiculous.”
“Sophia means wisdom.”
