Miranda's Dilemma

by Natasha Blackthorne

  “It doesn’t feel safe,” she replied softly, more to herself than to him.

  “It isn’t safe, Miranda.”

  “I know.”

  “Yet, here we stand together.” He still held both her hands. “Alone but for the quartet and the servants.”

  She glanced around. Everyone had fled.

  “Your instincts were exactly correct,” he said. “You should run from me, from this passion between us.”

  A chill raced through her, and she swallowed hard.

  “Do you still wish to run?” He loosened his hold on her hands. “If you do, go now, because if I am with you much longer, I cannot guarantee that I will be so willing to let you go.”

  The intensity of his tone made her mouth go dry. “You promised you would never force me.”

  “And so I shan’t, Miranda, but there exists a whole variation of persuasion and seduction between letting a woman walk out the door and forcing her.”

  Suddenly, the means of her escape came to her. “My lord, I should be completely honest with you.”

  “Why do you wish to be so honest with me? What makes this between us special among your other conquests?”

  “Conquests?” she laughed. “Goodness, how you put that.”

  “How else shall I put it? I have stood and observed the looks of abject longing in the eyes of the gentlemen you have already won and rejected. I have seen you seduce them with sweet words and smoldering glances and your sensual laugh. I have heard you tell them seductive lies. Why should I assume that I am any different?”

  She opened her mouth to deny him then clamped it closed. What possible use would it be to deny? “That is what gentlemen expect from a woman like me.”

  “It is not what I want.”

  “Then why do you want me?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what is so maddening about it. You are beautiful. Beyond beautiful. But so many women are almost as lovely. So many women are lovely enough to catch my eye, so why must I have you? I do not know.” His look softened. “But I do want you. I just don’t want the artifice.”

  She ran a hand over her glittering bodice. “Most of my beauty is artifice.”

  “Then strip it all away and let me see the woman that remains.”

  Giddiness passed over her, making the flicker of the candelabras waver and swirl in her vision. “The things you say. I would have never guessed that you were like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “I do not have adequate words to describe it.” She smiled up at him. “But I like it.”

  He tightened his grasp on her hands then with one quick tug, he pulled her closer. “What do you want to tell me, Miranda?”

  “My…” She couldn’t help but give a cautious glance about and lower her voice. “My carnal skills are not—…”

  “I know.”

  “What?”

  “Froster told me of your particular hesitance.”

  “Oh.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to every man.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He grinned. “My carnal skills will suffice for us both.”

  The sensual, slight huskiness of his voice made her breath catch.

  “I promised already,” he said. “You need never do anything with me in a bed that you don’t wish.” He squeezed her hands.

  She became aware of the lightness spreading through her belly. She had not been aware of how much she had been dreading the whole matter of…well, doing that humiliating act that she didn’t wish to even think about.

  “Come, let us finish the dance.” He frowned and released one of her hands and touched a finger to her cheek. “And, after that, you must go and wash this paint and powder from your face.”

  “And after that?”

  “I shall take you for a walk in the garden and kiss you by moonlight.”

  ****

  Danvers did take her for a walk in the garden, in the moonlight. And he had kissed her, most thoroughly.

  Now she sat on a stone bench, panting and trying to catch her breath, her whole body tingling with desire, her lips feeling slightly bruised from his. Water glistened like a silver ribbon as it cascaded out of the mouth of a brass fish that a cherub was holding. The silver arc fell like rain into a pond.

  “Carrville was your first lover?”

  Adrian’s question startled her and she shook her head.

  “Tell me about your first lover.”

  She stared at him, speechless. What could she possibly tell him about an afternoon that she had worked so hard to erase from her memory?

  “Who was the first?”

  Now she had some piece of rationality she could wrap a response around. She made a slight shrug for good measure. “Does his name matter? I have tried to forget him.”

  His handsome face contracted. “Was the first time that unpleasant for you?”

  His voice resonated with sympathy. Concern.

  It put the oddest sensation into her belly, and her throat tightened.

  “Oh goodness, my lord, I do not wish to speak of it.” She glanced away and watched a golden leaf float across the pound. “Perhaps much of that was my fault. As you already pointed out, young women often do have certain squeamish, spoiled sensitivities.”

  In the silence that followed, he uttered a sigh, a sound of frustration. Or exasperation. She couldn’t tell.

  “That wasn’t my meaning at all.” His tone had sharpened. “Christ, Miranda, I didn’t want you at this party. You know that. You know that’s why I said the things that I did.”

  His sharper tone, his words stung. She took a deep breath against the sensation and looked away. She gave the gold leaf a little push and watched it glide across the water. “Why didn’t you want me here, my lord?”

  “No artifice, remember?” he said, curtly.

  She turned back to him and widened her eyes. “Artifice?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “You know exactly why I didn’t want you here. Now you want to pretend that you don’t know? You want to use my weakness towards you as a weapon? A defense?” He paused. “Or an offense?”

  Caught, she flushed.

  “Which is it, my lady? Defense or offense?”

  “Defense.” She turned to him. “You vexed me so deeply that day. You surely know that you did.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  “I did not think you cared enough to be vexed.”

  “Well, I was. Are you satisfied?”

  “Yes,” he said, with such conviction, that she smiled.

  “Heavens, my lord.”

  “I didn’t want him to have you.”

  “What?”

  “Froster.”

  “Oh.”

  He looked at her so oddly then, giving her the distinct impression that he had something of import to say. He opened his mouth.

  Then he closed it, almost snapped it closed from the tense appearance of his jaw.

  She frowned. “My lord?”

  “Adrian,” he clipped.

  She winced, then laughed softly to cover her tension. “Habits and manners are hard to break.”

  “What did you call Carrville in private?”

  “I called him Carrville, as everyone did.”

  “Never ‘my darling’?”

  “He was my dear, dear friend. Yes, but never, ever my darling.”

  “Hmm,” he said, his expression turning grim.

  “What is it?”

  “Suddenly, I feel very sad for Carrville.”

  “Don’t,” she said. “He had what he wanted from me, as I had from him. He never stopped loving his wife, do you know that?”

  “He and Lady Carrville had a most tempestuous marriage.”

  “They certainly did.”

  “They lived apart more than they were together.”

  She nodded. “So he said. He loved to speak of her and, when he did, his face— he was transported.”

  “I suppose things
are not always what they appear from the outside looking in.”

  “Yes, I suppose.” She twisted her lips wryly. “But then, neither of us ever heard Lady Carrville’s side of the matter.”

  “Yes, you’re correct.” He gave her a slight grin, but his beautiful eyes were serious. “You’re trying to distract me from our earlier discussion.” He reached across and tapped her hand with his fingers. “Tell me more about the first time with a man.”

  “I was just a silly girl bedded with a rather impatient and less than sensitive gentleman. It is no great matter.”

  “Hadn’t Cassandra and your mother prepared you?”

  “Mama told me nothing. Cassandra tried to educate me, but how can words properly describe it?”

  “No,” he said, somewhat terser than before. “I meant hadn’t they prepared you, given you wine and…and whatever else may be done to ease your nerves and make it less painful?”

  “Oh, yes, well they had given me a fair amount of wine. I was so dizzy and terrified, my stomach was in knots. When he became more, shall we say, vigorous, I feared I might cast up my accounts.”

  The next moments were filled with only sound of the flaps of his greatcoat rippling in the breeze.

  “Good God. Didn’t he notice?” Adrian asked, his voice sharp.

  She turned to him and frowned. “I am not sure any man can properly understand the sense of being invaded.”

  His jaw tensed. “There was pain?”

  “Yes, it was quite uncomfortable for me.” She made another tiny shrug. “I rather had the impression that aspect made things more dramatic for him.”

  Adrian gaped at her, his expression aghast. “Miranda…”

  She allowed herself a small shudder. “Oh, please, let us speak of it all no further.”

  Silence fell between them. The wind blew one of her curls across her face. He reached and brushed it away then tucked it behind her ear.

  That kind fussing, a man’s kind of casual touching, put a curl of warmth into her belly, wiping away the distaste of their conversation. She smiled slightly.

  He traced his thumb over her lower lip. “What was it like for you, being Carrville’s lover?”

  “Oh please, no, I cannot discuss Carrville.” She laughed, softly, uncomfortably. “Not like that.”

  “Do you think it is easy for me to speak of it? He was my wife’s father.”

  “Yes, of course he was.” In the heat of their increasing intimacy, she had nearly forgotten that connection.

  “You know that I fully intend to seduce you.” He touched the frogs on her pelisse and began to unfasten them. “Before I begin, I need to know your level of carnal experience and what your expectations of bedding may be.”

  She laughed in a practiced, sensual way, giving his thigh a lingering caress. “Ah, my lord, you think it is you who is doing the seducing?” She arched a brow. “Are you so sure?”

  He chuckled, parting the edges of her wrap before putting his hand to the curve of her waist. “All right, before I do the gentlemanly thing and allow us both the illusion that I am seducing you, I need to understand your history.” He fixed her with an obviously feigned yet stern look. “Come now, stop trying to distract me.”

  She sighed. “Carrville was kind and understanding.”

  “Miranda, I have no idea what ‘kind and understanding’ means to you. Will you please be a little more explicit?”

  “He had a delicate heart. We had to take care.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She felt heat spread over her face. That surprised her for she had not expected to experience any embarrassment in talking about bedding Carrville. “He needed to be the more passive partner.”

  “Passive?” He raised his brows.

  More heat flooded her face. “I rode him.” She had barely whispered the words. Was it that she felt disloyal telling Carrville’s intimate secrets? “Do you really need to know more? He was kind and relatively undemanding. He liked for me to read to him more than to ride him.”

  “You know it will be vastly different with me, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, as her belly gave a leap of equal parts anticipation and trepidation. In her more self-indulgent moments, she had dreamed that someday she would have a passionate affaire. But never had she imaged it would be with the Earl of Danvers.

  There was a sense of emotional danger still lurking beneath her excitement, but now it served to increase the poignancy.

  “I will mount you.” His voice was deeper now, a tad hoarser than a moment ago. “My body will press yours into the bed. You will be aware, as never before, of the differences between a man and a woman’s strength. You will begin to feel your own vulnerability in the situation.”

  That sense of rising anticipation and trepidation rose higher, making her breath hitch. She released some of her tension in a small laugh.

  He took her hands and then encircled her wrists with his thumb and forefingers. “I will take your hands like this, and I will hold them securely to the bed. I will pin your legs with mine. I won’t allow you to move.”

  “Goodness, what an image your words provoke.”

  “I will make you experience what it feels like to be completely powerless to the sensual force of another. You will know how I have felt, being powerless to my attraction to you.” Already, he was holding her hands so firmly.

  Perversely, his description excited her. She could scarcely catch her breath.

  He brushed her earlobe with his fingertips.

  Darts of pleasure burst from the point of his touch, traveling through her, down to make her nipples tighten.

  “I shall kiss you until you gasp for breath, and then I shall kiss and suckle your breasts until you thrash with longing.”

  She became aware that she was arching her back. Offering him her breasts? Yes, it appeared her body was leaping ahead of her mind. She had never experienced something like that, being pulled along by pure desire.

  He then bent pressed kisses to where her breasts swelled above her bodice. Sparks of fire ignited wherever his firm, heated mouth touched her. She arched deeper.

  He grasped the edges of the flimsy little bodice and pulled.

  The cloth gave way, and her breasts burst from their confines, for she wore no stays with this particular gown. There was no room for them.

  At the feel of the cool night air on her flesh, she gasped. His action sent thrills pounding through her. He cupped her breasts then flicked his thumbs over her stiffened peaks. More sparks of sweet, sweet delight went chasing over her, making her nipples harder.

  Delight rushed through her, so intense that she shivered with it.

  He gently pushed her back until she reclined upon the bench. He put his mouth over her nipple, flicking it with his tongue, swirling and swirling.

  She moaned, and threaded her fingers into his dark silken hair.

  He suckled her.

  Tingles of fire shot into her belly making her have to cross her legs against the sudden ache.

  He growled in his throat and cupped her other breast, squeezing it.

  The rush of pleasure made her giddy. She clutched at him, moaning and moaning. He responded by increasing his attentions, kissing and caressing and suckling until wetness flowed between her legs and she was writhing.

  He lifted his head.

  She opened her eyes, just bare slits to see him.

  He reached for her hem and, with one quick yank, he bared her legs, their silk stockings and lace garters little protection against the cool air.

  “Then I would part your legs, put my hands under your delectable arse and then I would lift you. Impale you on my cock.”

  Desire twisted through her belly. She cried out with it.

  “Yes, you will cry out and beg for me. Then and only then, I will thrust into you deeply. I will drive you hard and fast, until you scream. I will make you come and come, hard, so hard.”

  She moaned and writhed, this time archin
g her pelvis against the leg that had somehow found its way between her legs. His strong thigh felt like steel, giving her the pressure she craved. He rocked against her. She arched her pelvis all the harder.

  “Adrian, Adrian…”

  “I will make you come harder than you ever imagined you could.” He removed his thigh from between hers.

  She cried out with the loss then gasped at the touch of his questing fingers.

  “Let me make you come now.” He gave her pulsing nub a brush with his thumb.

  Wetness gushed from her. She had not known she could become so wet. She could only moan and writhe, trying get more of the stimulation.

  “Let me put my mouth on you,” he said.

  She stiffened with shock. She had not expected him to ask for something so exotic, so soon.

  No one had ever done that for her.

  At the more wicked parties, she had seen women do it to each other for the viewing pleasure of the gentlemen. Many times, when those women had realized she was watching too, they had smiled and beckoned to her.

  Miranda had always declined.

  Sometimes, a few of the gentlemen would break with their dignity and join the women on their divans. She had, more than once, observed a nobleman, kneeling upon the floor, his head buried between a pair of lush ivory thighs, performing the act with what seemed to be inspired passion and found herself transfixed with horrified fascination. The women had always seemed to like it. But, then again, sweetly uttered lies and falsified pleasure were rampant when one put courtesans into a chamber filled with wealthy noblemen.

  And she also knew men expected to be paid in kind for their exhaustive efforts.

  “No, no…” She tried to sit.

  He put his hand on her belly. “Easy, now.”

  She shook her head. “No…I don’t like that.”

  “Don’t deny me, Miranda.”

  “You said you would not force me.” Her voice shook. “You said I did not have to do anything in a bed with you that did not please me.”

  He groaned and lifted her skirts higher then he bent and pressed a kiss to her lower belly, right above the triangle of russet curls between her legs.

  Her internal muscles clenched. More wetness gushed from her. She wanted to cross her legs, but his body prevented it.