by Robyn DeHart
Oh, she wouldn’t be completely alone. She had her friends. And surely Edmond and his family would care for her. She’d be the cranky old aunt to his children, and they’d put bugs in her shoes and hide her spectacles. But was it enough? Is it what she would want were she able to choose?
No. The answer was simple and immediate. No matter how much she’d tried to deny herself, how often she’d swallowed those desires in an attempt to completely dissolve them, they still remained.
She wanted more.
She wanted James. That was undeniable.
And if she were to choose, she would want James to love her.
He’d been so civil with her today, too civil. As if they were no more than acquaintances who saw each other occasionally at the theatre. Yet, they were more than that, weren’t they? Hadn’t they developed a bit of a friendship? Some trust for each other? There was the desire that neither of them could deny.
Could she give in to it? He’d already brought her the most intense pleasure she’d ever known. Would he do it again?
Instead of having that life she’d promised her mother, she could have the memory of what might have been. What might have come to be were she a different person. Were she the kind of woman a man could desperately love.
What would happen if she allowed herself this indulgence? Would she still be able to retain control over the rest of her life? Questions poured through her mind like sifting sand.
Perhaps if she did give in to her wants, it would strengthen her resolve. Give her even more control over everything else. If she allowed all of her weaknesses to fall away in those moments she allowed him to touch her body, then afterward, she could put on her restraints just as she put on her dress.
Chapter 16
Willow had come to a decision. She sat huddled in the center of the carriage seat, wrapped in her brown wool cloak. It was a risky decision, she knew that, but she also knew that if she did not allow herself this one thing, she’d never be the same. She felt safe with James, safe to let go, safe to feel.
Nerves threatened to sour her stomach, but she was resolved to do this. Or at least try. It was the perfect opportunity for her to indulge her need to experience freedom without losing control of her life. One night of passion with him, one night where she allowed herself to be free, to simply feel and see how life might have been had she been a woman more like her mother. One night couldn’t cause too much damage.
No one would know. She did not love him, she reminded herself, so her heart would not get broken. And she knew he did not love her, so his heart was not in danger either. It would be pure bliss, a safe environment for her to abandon her restraints and experience life’s ultimate pleasure.
But would he say yes? That was her only concern. She knew he wanted her. Had felt the evidence of his desire pressed against her. She felt it in the way that he kissed her, the way he traced his fingers across her skin. As if she were the most delicate woman he’d ever met.
Perhaps, though, his want for her was fleeting. It would come to an end eventually, she knew that. There was nothing about her to inspire any kind of desire that would endure for more than a whisper of time. She hoped his need had not yet waned.
Tonight she would go to him. There would be no forced seduction. Things would simply progress. Being alone at his house would prevent any interruptions.
For one night she would know what it was like to let go of herself and experience all the pleasures life had to offer. For one night she’d allow at least her body to be loved.
James looked up at the sound of the bell. He glanced at the clock on the mantel: nearly ten o’clock. Who would come calling at that hour? He could hear a light rain pattering against the window as he moved his chair away from his desk.
He peered out the window to the side of the door and could only see a cloaked figure; it was too dark to determine any other details. With one movement he swung the door open and was startled to find Willow’s large brown eyes looking back at him.
He pulled her inside. “Whatever are you doing out so late? And in this weather?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice shook. “I had some thoughts about the investigation and I knew you’d be up working too. I simply thought it might be more productive were we to work together,” she said.
He wasn’t so certain he believed her, but she had come to see him for some reason. It wasn’t like her to lie, though.
“Come in by the fire before you catch your death.” Perfect. He was beginning to sound like his mother. He pulled the cloak off her shoulders, draped it across a leather chair, and went to work stoking the fire. “Have a seat on the sofa. Do you want some tea? Or a chocolate?”
“Something warm to drink would be nice,” she said with a smile.
James stepped into the hallway and made his way into the kitchen, where he found Marjorie. He asked that she prepare a plate of cakes and chocolate and bring it immediately to his study. Then he went back to Willow.
“You couldn’t sleep.” He repeated her earlier words.
“Correct.”
She seemed agitated or distracted. He waited until Marjorie had brought their tea tray before he spoke again.
“You have thoughts about the investigation?” he asked.
She sipped her tea and nodded absently. “I’ve been thinking about something Mulligan said,” she began. “About the images of ladies going for a higher price than those of common girls.”
James nodded, curious to where she was going with this. Willow was clever and more than likely was coming to the same conclusion he’d already made. “Go on,” he encouraged her.
“Yes, well, I remembered that statement and then the box of photographs we found at Drummond’s house. It seems highly likely that among those images are some wealthy aristocratic ladies.”
And there she had done it. “I believe you might be right.”
“Really?” she asked, seeming surprised.
“I had already come to this conclusion, and am in the process of wading through those images trying to locate anyone I recognize.”
It was a good conclusion for her to make, but surely this discussion could have waited until the morrow. Yet, she had risked being seen as she snuck into his townhome unescorted.
“I could help,” she offered.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She eyed him warily, then nodded. “Do you have anything a bit stronger?” she asked, holding up her teacup.
“Willow, is everything all right?”
Her mouth tightened and she nodded.
He complied with her wish and brought her a glass of brandy. “Careful, it’s strong.” Then he sat on the sofa next to her. She smelled so good, an intoxicating mixture of lemon and soap. He watched her bring the glass to her lips and take a swallow. Her tongue slid out to catch a wayward drop and his abdomen tightened.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
He wasn’t even certain he’d actually heard it or if his mind had fabricated it because he so desperately wanted to kiss her. But she’d leaned toward him and closed her eyes and seemed to be asking him to do this as if it would be some great gift to her.
When the truth was it was a gift to him. Every moment he spent in her warmth was undeserved.
He leaned in and cradled her face with his hands. She released a soft whimper and he gently placed his mouth across hers. Slowly he placed tender kisses on her lips, reveling in the feel of their velvety softness.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him tightly to her, deepening their kiss. The urgency in her response fueled his desire. She wanted him.
He kissed her hungrily, not holding back any of the passion he felt. Her fingers dug into his back and she arched against him. His hand moved up and pressed against her breast; he felt the nipple bead beneath his fingers. Blood surged through him and his erection pushed tautly against his trousers.
He laid her back against the sofa and positioned himself atop her. Having h
er pressed against the length of his body was nearly his undoing. But what of her virtue? He paused, not moving, not saying anything. It was one thing to dally with an experienced woman, but this was Willow.
Then he leaned back to see her face. “Are you certain? There are some things that can not be undone,” he said.
She nodded. “Touch me,” she whispered. Her eyes pled with him.
It was those eyes that proved to be his undoing. She didn’t have to ask him more than once. He continued kissing her as he fondled her breasts, slipping his hand beneath her dress and inside her shift to touch the warmth of her skin.
So smooth. So hot.
Willow couldn’t get enough of his mouth on her mouth, his hands on her skin. She wanted more. Wanted to be even closer. His skin on hers. She started tugging at his shirt, attempting to pull it free from his body.
Eventually he pulled his mouth from hers and leaned up enough to release the buttons so he could slip from the confines of the shirt. His athleticism was more than apparent in the muscled sheet of his chest.
Dark blond hair curled across the wide expanse and then tapered to a thin line that traversed his rippled abdomen, only to disappear beneath his trousers. He was a fine specimen, to be certain.
She reached out, ran her hand down the length of his torso, and watched as the muscles tensed beneath her touch, which only fueled her desire to touch him more. She allowed her fingertips to linger at the waistband of his trousers, then looked up to meet his eyes.
She didn’t want to ask for this, she’d already asked for too much. But she did want him to take. Take her body and make it his own. She leaned up and captured his mouth with hers, all the while continuing to run her hands across his abdomen.
He reached behind her and began unclasping her buttons, trying to free her from her dress. She allowed her mouth free roam over his warm skin, loving the contrasting feel of the crisp hair and sinewy plains. It was an exploration unlike any she’d ever known.
She felt her dress give way; then warm hands were gliding across her shoulders.
“Stand up,” he said.
She did as he said, stepped out of the dress and it pooled at her feet. He then unfastened and unlaced each layer of her clothing until she stood before him in nothing more than her pantaloons and stockings.
He ran his hand down the center of her torso, gently brushing each breast as he did. Her already hardened nipples puckered even more and she desperately wanted to cover herself. But she had asked for this. She had come here tonight for him to touch her and love her.
“You are so beautiful,” he said. “Take your hair down.”
She reached up and began unpinning her hair. Curls fell one by one and brushed against her shoulders and neck, shooting chills across her sensitive flesh. When she was done, she bent and placed the pins inside one of her slippers, then stood again to face him.
He took one step and was pressed against her, kissing her fervently. His tongue slid against hers and desire coiled through her body so rapidly she nearly fell to her knees. She knew her hands were everywhere, trying to touch him all over, but she could not help it.
She closed her eyes to listen, not wanting to miss one single sound around them. He made a low groan as he pressed his erection against her and she heard herself moan in return. Their breath mingled in hot pants. She inhaled deeply to absorb their scents; he smelled of sandalwood and brandy.
One by one, she involved her senses to commit to memory every detail about this night. The way his hand felt as it grazed her nipple. The sweet taste of him and the brandy against her tongue. His hard arousal pulsating against the thin fabric of her pantaloons.
He gave her one last passionate kiss, then began to kiss his way down her face, onto her neck, across her collarbone to both breasts, onward to her belly, until he presented himself before her on his knees. With one swift movement he brought her pantaloons to her ankles, then slowly rolled down each stocking.
She heard him suck in his breath and for a moment he knelt before her, hands on her legs, eyes closed, simply breathing. Perhaps he too wanted to memorize their experience. Surely he knew tonight would be their only chance.
He stood and went and locked the door, then stoked the fire until a warm, golden blaze filled the room. He turned the lights down so that only the flames lit their surroundings. The plush red carpet was warm around her toes and she wiggled them to dig in further.
She had said nothing for a long while, had found she did not want to ruin the moment with the sound of her own voice. She wanted to tell him how beautiful he was, how there never had been a man in more magnificent shape than he. But her mouth would not move. So, she hoped that her deep admiration would shine through her eyes and she let them gaze at him freely.
He came back to her, took her by the hand, and led her to the center of the room so that they were closer to the hearth. Warmth radiated to her body. She pulled him to her and kissed him while allowing her hand to trail down his chest to the fastenings of his trousers.
She must have been working too slowly for him, because he swiped her hand away and finished it himself. He removed the rest of his clothes, then pressed his body against hers so that they were skin to skin. He caught her eyes and held them, the green of his swimming with desire.
Her heart beat as rapidly as if she’d run a thousand kilometers. With one hand he grabbed her bottom and pressed her hard against him.
“I want you,” he said.
She swallowed. “I want you,” she managed in a hushed whisper.
He brought her down on the floor next to him and continued his exploration of her body. His hands and mouth were everywhere and sensations were firing so rapidly she was certain her body would combust. She writhed and moved against his touch, fighting for release.
He inserted one finger inside her and she bucked off the rug. Slowly he moved his finger, in and out and around, finding new sensations with every movement. With another finger, perhaps his thumb, he found that sensitive nub. The two at once created a contrast of pleasure that pulsated through her, building and building until she wanted to cry out.
She bit down on his shoulder and he moaned in response. His hand kept up its delicious torture until she was certain she could take no more, then her body froze as her climax shook through her. Her eyes closed and she let out a cry, and then it subsided.
Then he positioned himself above her and she could feel this tip of him pressing against her.
She slid her legs up until they wrapped around him.
“Willow,” he said in a raspy voice as he pushed into her.
Sharp pain rocketed through her and she clenched around him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then feathered kisses across her face. “I’m sorry.”
She wiggled beneath him, trying to adjust herself to his invasion. Then he began to move, slow and shallow at first, teasing her with sensations between pain and pleasure. Deeper and faster he went and her desire began to mount quickly.
Her legs tightened around him and she pulled his face down for a kiss. She forgot about the remaining uncomfortable twinges and focused on him. His lips, soft and passionate moving across hers. His body pressed against her. Him making love to her.
Pressure was mounting within her and she felt something similar to before. That night in the garden. Only this was deeper, farther away, yet more intense. Then she heard his guttural moans as he spilled himself inside her.
He kissed her neck. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
She could not form a retort, so she pressed her lips to his forehead.
“I’m sorry that was uncomfortable. That is the way for women with their first time.”
“I know,” she said.
Then he gave her one of those lazy smiles of his. “It will be better the next time.” James smoothed her hair as she snuggled against his chest. “You came here tonight for this, didn’t you?”
She met his eyes. “I did.”
“Why di
dn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t want you to say no.”
“Willow, I can never say no to you.”
James tried to concentrate on his work but couldn’t stop replaying last night with Willow in his arms. He’d tried to keep from touching her. And he’d been successful yesterday while they worked, but last night, when she’d come to his house—when she’d asked him to touch her—he could not deny her. Could not deny himself that which he’d wanted for so long.
She had been a wanton and he had loved every minute of it. But with the light of the day came the realization that he could not leave things the way they were. He refused to be the bastard who would strip a woman of her virginity, then leave her to clean up the aftermath.
He set a file aside and ignored Finch’s questioning glance. He might loathe Society’s rules, but a woman’s reputation was at stake. A woman he admired. A woman whose virtue he’d stolen. So, retribution was up to him. He was the only one who could make this right.
First he would need to secure a special license, then a visit to her father. He had no title to offer her, but he had a good family name and wealth.
“Sterling!” Randolph hollered. “Get yourself out here, you have a visitor.”
James stood and could see through the windowed area near his office, where Randolph stood beckoning.
“Another lady friend, Bluestocking?” Beck asked as he strolled by.
Duchess Argyle stood next to Randolph, fidgeting with the fan that dangled from her gloved wrist. Her purple hat was wide enough to shade her shoulders, and was completed with a large purple plume.
He made his way out into the hallway and closed the office door behind him.
“Duchess,” he said. “What a surprise.”
Randolph grunted something, then walked off.
“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” she asked, glancing around them.
He nodded and led the way to the evidence room, as it was usually empty. The very room where he had placed Willow up on a table and kissed her. Soon she would be his.
