by Amy Sandas
“The room is warm, my lord,” she said into the lengthening silence. “May I remove your coat?”
Her request gave him pause as trepidation clutched at his insides.
Memories of being dressed and undressed as a child rose unbidden to his mind. The rough handling by impatient nurses, the curses and slaps as he struggled in their hold, which only brought on more pain and terror.
He fisted his hand tight against his thigh before extending it again, then repeated the action.
What she wanted would be difficult.
But he wanted it as well, more than his fear, more than anything.
He lifted his glass for another sip of the silky red wine. He welcomed the warmth of it spreading through his center and out to his limbs, though in that moment, he wished it were something more potent.
Setting the glass aside, he rose stiffly to his feet.
She stood as well and turned toward him. She moved slowly, as though sensing his uneasiness. He kept his gaze trained over her head, not wanting her to see the level of concentration in his eyes.
She kept a subtle distance between them. Still, he tensed when she reached for the buttons of his coat.
This time he was prepared for the heightened sensation across his skin as her gentle movements translated through his clothing. He clenched his teeth and breathed long and deep through his nose.
“Will you look at me, my lord?” There was as much command as there was question in her tone.
Avenell obeyed, lowering his gaze back to her face.
He knew how he must appear—his features tense and harsh with concentration. He could feel the heavy pull of his brow over his eyes and knew his lips were pressed firmly together as he fought to contain his flinch.
By direct contrast, she looked up at him with such patience. Her features were so serene, he almost missed the subtle sort of breathlessness in her expression, nearly concealed beneath her steady composure.
Anticipation.
Avenell’s pulse jumped.
Her lashes swept briefly over her gaze, but not before he detected the flame of desire and curiosity in the depths of her eyes.
Very carefully, she began to ease his coat back over his shoulders and down his arms.
He held his breath. His body stiffened as he fought his instinct for self-preservation and held himself still beneath her ministrations.
Removing the coat completely, she set it aside. With the same slow, careful movements, she repeated the same with his waistcoat.
He focused on maintaining his control despite the searing flicks of fire igniting across his skin.
“My lord.”
Her whispered words drew his attention, and Avenell opened his eyes, not having realized when he had closed them.
Her gaze was lit with inquiry and compassion. Surely she had noticed his discomfort, but he could see that she did not intend to press for an explanation.
She glanced to the side, and the tip of her tongue moistened her lips before she spoke. “Shall we retire to the next room?”
Avenell was immediately reminded of how young and inexperienced she was. For all of her quiet self-assurance, she was a maiden still.
The sense of possession that followed that thought added fuel to the steady blaze growing within him. She had chosen him.
He would do everything in his power to prove himself worthy.
He held his hand out toward her, palm up.
She slowly placed her hand in his, sending a tingle of sensation up his arm and across his nape. It was a pleasant sensation.
No. More than that.
It was exhilarating and triggered more of the same deep within. He was suddenly impatient to move his hands over her while she gasped and tensed in reaction.
And this time, he would not cease until she experienced the full depth of pleasure she craved.
Eighteen
Lily walked with him toward the bedroom, her heart pounding wildly.
There was something different about him tonight. It was not obvious, but it was there in his quiet intensity. If their last encounter had been a test of sorts, tonight felt like an initiation.
Just inside the door of the bedroom, he released her hand and strode ahead of her toward a row of candles set in a gothic wrought iron stand. His shoulders were broad and strong beneath the white of his shirt. She had noticed when she had removed his coat and waistcoat that his shirt was made of silk rather than cotton or linen. It was not a common choice, and each time her fingers had brushed the decadent material, a thrill had passed through her.
As he lit the candles one by one, the room became gently illuminated by the flickering golden light.
The bedroom was smaller than the sitting room, but it was far more dramatic in its decor. The walls were covered in black and silver brocade. The bed was large and imposing, with a high, scrolled headboard that gleamed a cherry red in the candlelight. Black velvets, silks, and satins mingled on its surface.
Her gaze swung away from the bed to the center of the room, where a chaise was placed conspicuously by itself in the open space. Something about the odd piece of furniture gave Lily pause, and she found herself staring at it. It stood on elegantly curved legs and was upholstered in a sleek red leather that made her want to run her hand over its surface. Unlike most chaises, it did not have a raised end for reclining, and aside from two rolled pillows on either end, it did not possess any sort of head or arm rests. In truth, it was nothing more than a large cushioned bench.
A low-standing chest containing dozens of little drawers was set against the far wall. Beside the chest was a large captain’s chair upholstered in the same cherry-red leather as the bench.
“Lily.”
Her gaze swung back to him at the sound of her name in his rich-toned voice.
He stood stiffly in front of the candelabra. The light at his back cast his features into severe shadow.
“I am sorry for the way I left you at our last encounter.”
Lily’s body heated at the memory of being on the verge of something beautiful and stunning, only to fall short.
“I was not properly prepared,” he continued. “It will not happen again.”
Lily was not sure she understood. “Prepared for what, my lord?”
There was a long pause during which she wondered if he would answer.
“How you made me feel.”
His reply sent a rush of longing through her, filling the hollowness at her center.
“Are you prepared now, my lord?”
Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “Do you recall your promise to do as I say?”
His tone had become cold and distant, but Lily believed she knew what that meant. The more rigid and icy his demeanor, the more intensely his passions burned beneath.
“Yes, I remember.”
“Do you regret that promise?”
She felt only the slightest hesitation before she replied. “No.”
The tension in him was palpable and had been from the moment she had joined him in his carriage. It reached out to Lily, causing a pleasant twist in her belly. He said nothing as she stared at him. She wished she could see the details of his expression, but the shadows were too deep. It was clear he wanted something, and she waited with bated breath and heated skin to discover what it was.
“Undress for me.”
The harshness of his tone pierced her like a fire-tipped arrow. If his voice had been soft and gentle, it could not have affected her as intensely as when he spoke with such a hard edge.
Though he was giving the commands, she realized it was she who held the power to keep or renege on her promise. At any moment, she could refuse to do as he said. As understanding of the power she held dawned, she felt a surge of confidence and daring.
Suddenly, the thought of
undressing while he watched from a distance took on an unexpected appeal.
The last time she had disrobed in his presence, the pleasure from his touch had allowed her a heady distraction. This would be altogether different.
The idea inspired her.
On a deep exhale, she stepped forward, leaving the light of the sitting room behind to merge with the uncertain glow that danced about as the candles flickered in their stand. She continued only as far at the chaise in the center of the room before she stopped.
“Please, my lord, won’t you make yourself comfortable?” she said with a gesture toward the red leather chair.
Following her suggestion, he crossed to the corner of the room where the candlelight did little to illuminate the shadows and lowered himself to the chair. He sat with his spine straight and his feet flat on the floor and braced wide apart. His fingers curled tensely over the arms of the chair. Though the light was dim and wavering, it was enough to see the hard intensity of his expression, the silent assessment in his heavy gaze.
He had become so still that he may have been made of stone.
She wondered what it would take to soften the hard edge of his self-control.
Though she lowered her gaze modestly, every particle of her awareness stretched toward him. His silent focus ignited a slow burn throughout her body, and she tried to recall the descriptions she had read of women undressing for their lovers. It was always depicted as such a sensual act.
In reality, it was not so easy.
She reached behind her for the buttons running along the back of her gown. She had to arch deeply to accomplish the task, which pressed her breasts against her bodice and created a twinge of discomfort in the muscles of her arms. It was not a simple task, but the Chadwicks had gone without a maid for years, and Lily was accustomed to the effort.
After a few minutes, she was able to slide the material off her shoulders. She withdrew her arms, then eased the gown down her body until she could step free. Lifting the gown, she turned to drape it over the chaise beside her, the pale pink contrasting sharply with the sleek red leather. The stiffness of her gown’s embroidered bodice had made stays unnecessary. It was quick work to remove her petticoat, and within moments, she was left with only the fine lawn shift to cover her nakedness.
She risked a glance then in his direction.
His expression had grown even more severe in the last minutes. His slashing brows were drawn low, and his eyes were black as he watched her. She noted the steady sound of his breath and instinctively deepened the rhythm of her breathing to match his. His hands extended and fisted in what she was coming to understand was a reflex of self-control.
Again, she felt an inexplicable flow of power.
With her nerves aflame and her belly tightening to a sweet ache, she slipped free of her shoes then bent forward to reach beneath the hem of her shift and release the garters secured above her knees. She removed her stockings and dropped them one at a time onto the chaise. The last item to go was her shift.
Standing entirely naked before him, Lily could feel the hot possession of his gaze as it roamed over her body, though he remained unmoving in the chair.
Tension squeezed her chest at his restraint.
His need was evident. His desire palpable.
Why did he not claim her?
The longer she stood waiting, the more intensely Lily felt the tingle of anticipation across her nerves. The heat spreading outward from her core swirled through her limbs and pooled low in her body. An ache weighted her breasts. The pulse of her blood set a rhythm to her desire, a steady, rushing need.
Looking at him, she felt every second pass like an hour. The open neck of his shirt revealed just a peek of the hard planes of his chest. His black breeches strained over the taut muscles of his thighs. His hands gripped the arms of the chair.
She would give anything to feel his hands on her again. Anywhere. It didn’t matter. Even the most innocuous touch sent intricate sensations spiraling to the deepest reaches of her body.
Just as the lack of such left her feeling distinctly bereft.
Bereft and unfulfilled.
“Tell me what you want, Lily.”
The velvet tenor of his voice caused a deeper pulse of sensation between her legs.
Taking a few steadying breaths, Lily bravely met his hooded stare. “I want you to touch me,” she confessed in a soft murmur.
Without saying more, he lifted one hand and turned his palm upward in a gesture indicating he wanted her to come to him.
Enjoying the conflicting mixture of strength and vulnerability coursing through her, Lily approached slowly. It was a heady thing to have his gaze follow her movements so intently as she came to stand between his spread knees.
Yet he did not reach out to her.
She stood trembling as he perused every shadow and curve of her naked figure. When his attention settled briefly on the fullness of her breasts, her nipples puckered in reaction. She thought she heard him utter a low hum of appreciation, but she could not be sure. Next, he swept his gaze over the flare of her hips and thighs, brushing hotly over her feminine mound.
Lily clenched her muscles to prevent her knees from wobbling.
As if finally acknowledging her silent yearning, he shifted toward her. The soft leather made no sound as he leaned forward.
Lily held her breath.
He settled one hand possessively on the curve of her hip. He pressed his fingers into the soft flesh of her buttocks and brushed his thumb back and forth over her belly. With a smooth, unhurried caress, he slid his other hand up the back of her thigh.
She stared down at his bent head, her breath releasing on an involuntary puff as she felt his fingertips only a sigh away from her heated core.
“Remember to keep your hands at your sides,” he instructed. The raw nature of his voice revealed his tension.
“But—”
“I would not insist if it was not important.”
Lily contained the rush of disappointment that threatened at his harsh interruption. She understood that it was her hand on his arm that had ended things the last time they were together. But she had hoped he would allow her to touch him this time.
“I promise,” she replied in a whisper.
He took a few slow, deep breaths through his nose then tipped his dark head back to look up at her. The intense light in his eyes sent sparks flying through her blood.
“You are wearing my gift,” he said.
A blush of heat rose on her skin. “Yes.”
He lifted his hand from her hip to claim her fingers in his and brought her wrist to his nose. He inhaled, then released her hand to look at her in question.
“I had to apply it where it would not be easily detected by my family,” she explained.
The muscles in his jaw clenched. Lily was tempted to place her hand along the side of his face to feel that tension more intimately against her palm. She resisted with difficulty.
“Where?” he asked. The one word was weighted with something that sounded suspiciously like fear.
Instead of touching him as she wanted, Lily lifted her hand to drift her fingertips over her sternum. “Here,” she whispered.
His intense regard fell to the hollow between her breasts. He did not move for a moment as he stared at her pale skin. Then he grasped her hips in both hands, as though to keep her in place.
Lily almost smiled at that. She had no intention of going anywhere.
He leaned forward until his hot breath fanned across her belly and the rough texture of his jaw brushed against the inner curves of her breasts.
When he first swept his lips across the spot she had indicated, Lily caught her breath sharply behind her teeth. Her skin tingled at the light and reverent kiss.
He drew back and waited.
She drifted her fin
gers over the gentle swell of her belly. “Here,” she whispered again.
He curved his spine and lowered his head to press a hot kiss just below her navel.
Her legs shook beneath her, and she closed her eyes.
“Where else?” he asked in a low murmur.
Lily slowly turned in place, feeling his hands drop away from her body. When she faced away from him, she reached around to press her fingers to the small of her back.
The touch of his mouth there was more intense than she expected—the wet and warmth and intimate pressure. She shivered as delicious, tingling chills sped up and down her spine then spread out to her fingertips and toes in a delicate, rippling wave. But it was over too quickly.
She turned around again and looked into his eyes, her heart beating so fast she wondered how she could sustain such a pace without fainting.
Because she was already thinking of the last place she had applied the heady perfume.
At the time, she had felt wicked and daring. Now, she feared she might dissolve into a trembling mess should he continue along the same path.
His eyes met hers. His jawline was hard, and his firm, masculine lips were slightly parted, making the curve of his bottom lip look all the more sensual. Yet, there was so much strain in his expression.
She ached deep inside for what she sensed hidden beneath his iron control.
“Where else, Lily?”
Hearing her name murmured in that decadent voice turned gruff with need nearly made her legs collapse beneath her. But she was not about to turn coward now. Holding his gaze, she acknowledged her wantonness—and embraced it.
Slowly, she reached down and slid her fingers along the soft skin of her inner thighs.
She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his eyes darkened even more. He did not move, except for the muscles along his jaw tensing and a quickening of his breath. Then he broke his gaze away from hers, sliding it down the length of her body. With deliberate care, he curled his fingers around the back of her leg. Applying the barest amount of pressure, he urged her to lift her knee until he could fit her foot onto the chair beside his thigh.
