All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  James lifted his head, grinning down at her. “Something to say, lass?”

  Prim shook her head as his hand drifted up over her drawers and between her thighs. She clamped them tight, trapping his hand between them. “Just one thing.”

  “Aye?”

  “What exactly did you mean to imply when you said, ‘In the meantime’?”

  His gruff chuckle brushed her cheek before his teeth nipped at her earlobe. “I don’t plan on making love to you in this carriage, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I do have a few thoughts to pass the time. Do you want me to tell you, lass? Every delicious detail?”

  Prim’s breath caught in her throat, torn between the flood of pure lust his question inspired, curiosity, and puritanical reticence. “I-I…”

  “Do you want me to tell you exactly how I’m going to have your sweet quim flow like honey against my fingers before I make you come?” he asked.

  If she’d been a foot from a furnace, she couldn’t have flamed any hotter. Goodness, her heart was beating like a drum within her chest. She could scarcely hear over the pounding, yet every word echoed in her ears.

  “Or should I just show you?” His hand slipped farther up, parting the slit in her drawers. Already, the honey he referred to was flowing at his words.

  “You can decide,” she choked out.

  James clucked his tongue with a shake of his head. “It must be your decision, lass. I thought we’d discussed this.”

  “You owe me one for dismissing my suggestion to take me to your house tonight.”

  James laughed again. “So I do. So I do.”

  Whatever he had in mind for the meantime, she’d happily indulge in. He would soon see she wasn’t only impulsively throwing caution to the wind, that she was taking control of her destiny. Who she was doing it for—herself or James—hardly mattered anymore. The two had become one.

  James’s fingers brushed the damp curls between her thighs, then parted them. “Ye’re hot already, lass.”

  “I know.”

  “Wet.”

  Mortified, she buried her face against his chest.

  “Dinnae fash, lass,” he whispered against her temple, his brogue thicker than she’d ever heard it. Low and throaty. “Ye couldnae please me more.”

  Then all thoughts of embarrassment were gone. His fingers plunged into her, deep and hard. There was only fire.

  He pumped his fingers, stroking smoothly. In. Out. Withdrawing, he circled the hardened nub of her desire, drawing a cry from deep within her. A sound she never thought herself capable of, needy and carnal.

  “Aye, lass,” he urged. “Take it.”

  He orbited that sensitive spot again and Prim clasped her thighs together, not to stop him but to hold him tighter against her.

  “Ye like that?”

  Prim shook her head against his chest. “Please, don’t t-t-talk.”

  His chest heaved silently against her cheek. “Ah, my bonny lass…”

  But he left it at that and resumed his torture, tearing gasps and sighs from her as he stoked the inferno raging low in her belly. It burgeoned and spread, sending fiery tendrils down her thighs. Hotter and hotter, she clung to Jamie’s broad shoulders with a low wail. His lips covered hers, swallowing the sound.

  “Och, my sweet bonny lass,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing her deeply again.

  His tongue plunged, his fingers curled within her, and Prim shattered. Her groans, silenced by his lips, ravaged her inside as she convulsed around his fingers, hot and wet. Just as he promised.

  Prim collapsed against him, torn asunder. She’d never known, never imagined such wanton sensation. Shaky and weak, she hugged Jamie’s shoulders. He held her tight against him. His heart raced, pumping hard and fast against her cheek. His lips brushed her temple, though his breaths were erratic.

  “Jamie?” she rasped out, amazed she could even find her voice.

  Again he laughed, sounding pained, though how he could find amusement in a moment like this she had no idea.

  “Have I mentioned what fascinating layers you have, lass?”

  “A time or two. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  Chapter 24

  My own sex, I hope, will excuse me if I treat them like rational creatures, instead of flattering the fascinating graces and viewing them as if they were in a state of perpetual childhood, unable to stand alone.

  ~ Mary Wollstonecraft from A Vindication of the Rights of Women

  Humming happily, Prim added an extra spoonful of marmalade to her toast the next morning. The sugariness, however, wasn’t nearly as sweet as the long kiss goodnight James had given her in the carriage when he’d brought her home. The church clock had gonged at the one o’clock hour when it had begun and the quarter hour before it ended.

  She woken up this morning with a clear head and no regrets.

  Though Jeremy seemed determined to make sure she had some. Blithely, she ignored him as he ate his breakfast, listing all of James’s known faults between bites.

  “I thought you liked him,” she said, biting into her toast. “A ‘smashing fellow,’ I believe you said.”

  Jeremy shook his head sheepishly. “I did and he is. But blast it, Prim, Shane was right. You can’t think a man like that would be serious in courting you.”

  Though she’d thought it herself and knew it to be true, the truth of his words did carry a slight sting. “Whether he is or not, I enjoy his company. Far more than Mr. Leachman’s, I might add. You wanted me to consider remarrying and I am. You should be satisfied with that.”

  Since that was the point of the whole thing, she reminded herself sternly. She needed to remember that and not allow herself to get lost in tokens of affection. Kisses, she was sure, he handed out like candy. They meant nothing to him.

  “And you never know,” she added to solidify her purpose. “His intentions appear honorable.”

  Jeremy snorted but then grinned. “Maybe you’re right. The way he looked at you last night…”

  “What?”

  “He was fair gobsmacked when he saw you,” he admitted. “You did look nice. It’s good to see you smiling again, dressing nice. I’ll give him credit for that at least.”

  “I like him, Jeremy,” she admitted softly. “He listens to me. Believes that I can be more than just a mother and a wife.”

  “Like what?” he asked deadpan, bursting out into laughter when she swatted at him with her napkin. “Lay off, Prim. I’m not as bad as Shane and Dennis. You’re not as empty-headed as they think. Not as helpless either.”

  Prim’s lips twisted wryly. “Well, thanks for that.”

  “If you want MacKintosh to court you, I’ll support it,” he said. “But only if he’s serious about it. I don’t want him taking advantage of you and running off back to England.”

  “He’s Scottish.”

  “Whichever.”

  * * *

  Her good mood was gone by late afternoon. Prim laid down her pen and rubbed her eyes. She’d hardly said a word yet and already, she was exhausted. But her triumph last night had been so bolstering to her spirits and confidence, she’d begun cleaning house of other matters that’d been chasing her around like recalcitrant dust balls.

  Her finances being the greatest of these.

  One brother down, with just two more to go. However, this one was proving difficult.

  “I don’t know why it matters,” Shane said, pacing the study Prim had inherited from her husband. “You’ve got Declan and me taking care of everything for you.”

  “I realize you’ve been taking care of things, Shane, but you’re missing the point of what I’m saying. That is, I don’t want you to. I want to do it myself.”

  “That’s why we wanted you to marry Mossman. He understands these investments inside and out,” he said. “He could take care of business, take care of you.”

  “Which I cannot do because I’m a woman,” she added, sarcastically. Pushing away from the desk, she st
ood and glared down at her brother where he sat opposite of her. “I know what you think. How you think. But if you’re ever going to manage finding a wife in this life, you have to begin with giving my entire gender a little more credit. Just as Fletcher did. He didn’t give me control of our children’s trust to humor me. He did it because he knew I could handle it.”

  “Dash it, Prim!” Shane raked both hands over the top of his head until his hair was standing straight on end. He slapped his palms down on his thighs with a hard smack and pushed himself to his feet. “My God, you’re a harridan,” he grumbled, leaning over the desk. “How Fletcher ever put up with you, I’ll never understand. And what’s all this about me finding a wife?”

  “He didn’t just put up with me,” Prim told him. “And if there’s never been a man born more in need of a wife, it’s you.”

  “Ha. So I can be nagged at in my own home constantly?”

  “Since you haven’t been back to it in weeks, you’d hardly be able to tell, would you?” she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Shane gaped as she raised her voice beyond any level he’d heard from her since childhood. Prim thought perhaps James had been right about yet another thing. A little volume went a long way.

  “What’s going on in here?” Dennis asked, coming into the study with a newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “We can hear you all the way in the dining room.”

  “You’re welcome to enjoy your own dining room as well,” Prim griped, though Dennis only grinned.

  Shane threw his hands in the air and went back to pacing the room. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her. Tell her I’m only trying to help.”

  “Sorry, Shane.” Dennis shook his head. “I’ll have to side with Prim on this one.”

  “What?”

  “What?” Prim echoed in disbelief.

  Dennis tossed the newspaper on her desk and dropped into the chair Shane had vacated, sipping calmly from his cup. “All the while I was in Italy, you wrote about how you worried over Prim and her ability to hold things together after Fletcher died. I agreed to support you in helping her find a new husband because you thought it would be best for her.”

  “It is.”

  “You’re wrong.” Her brother’s defense brought tears of gratitude to Prim’s eyes.

  Shane laughed callously. “You’d have no objections to her taking over the future of our nieces and nephew and possibly running them into the ground?”

  “Should I have?” Dennis asked. “She’s not the same girl who left Father’s house a decade ago. I say let her go it alone if she wants. Let her succeed or fail on her own. Though, I don’t think she’ll fall. Honestly, she’s smart as a damned whip and you know it.”

  “Thank you, Dennis.”

  Her brother cast her a smirk and a wink. “Just try not to muck it all up.”

  Prim rolled her eyes. “I’ll try.”

  “Unbelievable. Both of you,” Shane grumbled.

  A low cough sounded from the doorway and they all turned to see Banks hovering uncomfortably at the threshold.

  “Yes, Banks?”

  The butler’s eyes darted from one brother to the other before returning to her. He looked horribly awkward. “Mr. MacKintosh is here to see you.”

  “What?” Shane exploded. “What the hell is he doing here? I thought we agreed you wouldn’t see him anymore.”

  “We did not. You did.” Prim wasn’t exactly sure the reason for his visit since he hadn’t said he’d call, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Nor would she dare to outwardly express the thrill Jamie’s unexpected arrival brought her. “I happen to enjoy Mr. MacKintosh’s company. And he enjoys mine.”

  “Your company?” he mocked. “We all know what a man like that enjoys from a widow.”

  Fury such as Prim had rarely encountered in all her years welled up inside her, leaving her shaking at the knees. “How dare you,” she rasped unsteadily.

  “Shane, really,” Dennis joined in, sounding just as appalled by their brother’s implication. He set his cup aside and stood, rounding the desk as if to physically shield her from the verbal attack. “That’s no way to talk about your sister.”

  “Did Jeremy tell you they went ‘out’ last night?” Shane asked, facing Dennis and flinging his arm out. “Just picked her up and off they went without a word of explanation.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Shane.”

  “A grown woman who left her children alone to go off gallivanting with a known womanizer.” He jabbed a finger at her with a scowl.

  Prim’s cheeks burned. She would not be ashamed of leaving her children in the care of her brother and in a fully staffed household. Nor would she explain herself.

  “Jeremy said you didn’t come home until the early hours of the morning,” Shane went on, pacing the room again. “Where were you all that time?”

  “What a prick you’ve become, Shane,” Dennis cut in. “Leave off…or would you like to provide an equal accounting of how you spend your evenings?”

  An awkward silence fell and Banks cleared his throat, reminding them all of his presence at the door. Prim’s face heated again, but this time in rage toward her brother.

  “Please show Mr. MacKintosh up, Banks.”

  The butler nodded and faded away while Shane gaped at her. “You can’t be serious.”

  “You may leave, Shane,” she told him, gripping her chair back with both hands. “And leave those files behind. I’ll have one of my footman call at the bank tomorrow for the rest of them.”

  “Prim—”

  “Enough, Shane. This is simply enough.” Her knuckles whitened. “You cannot come into my home and treat me like a child. Or worse. Talk to me like this. Not any longer. Whatever I choose to do and by God, whomever I choose to do it with, is my choice. Mine alone. Do you understand that?”

  Shane only shook his head. “Yes, but I don’t understand what’s come over you.”

  “I am saying nothing I haven’t said a hundred times before. This is merely the first time you’re hearing me,” she said with a sigh. “For what it’s worth, I don’t understand what’s come over you, either. When did you become so hateful?”

  “When did you stop trusting in me?” he shot back. “I love you. I’ve only ever tried to do what’s best for you. To take care of you as Father would have wanted.”

  “It’s not your job to look after me,” she told him, taking a seat behind the desk once more. She smoothed her palms over the blotter, gathering her resolve. “It never has been and from now on, I’ll be taking care of myself.”

  “Prim…”

  Prim drew a deep breath. It was so hard to do, but she knew she must if she were to maintain any of the headway she’d gained this afternoon.

  “I may invite you back after a proper apology for your harsh words, but until then, you are no longer welcome here.”

  “Damn it all, Prim!”

  “You may go.” Prim shooed him away like a child since he was behaving as such.

  “I’ll be back when you’ve had a chance to calm down,” he said, walking toward the door.

  “You’ll be back when I’ve asked you and not before.”

  Chapter 25

  The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked me what I thought, and attended to my answer.

  ~ Henry David Thoreau

  James overheard a good deal of what was going on above. From Banks’s mien as he came back down the stairs, he knew the whole house was privy to the insults one of her brothers was heaping on her head.

  His blood burned with rage at the accusation of what a widow would be doing with him. Not only because it demeaned her, but because he could hear the hurt in her voice if not the words when she responded.

  God, but he hated bullies.

  And this from a brother? For all the conflict and fights he’d had with his own siblings, he’d never dream of attacking one of them so personally. Cutting with the razor’s edge of disdain.
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  He wanted to go to her, comfort her.

  Pummel the brother, whichever one it was, who dared to speak to her so. Shane most likely, given what he’d heard from her before and seen with his own eyes. But she was doing just fine on her own, he heard. Delivering a set down so cool, it should have had the man at his knees. He could hear the shock in Shane’s voice, then the pleading.

  Bravo, lass.

  She’d come into her own.

  His job was done. But he wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot.

  Banks indicated that James should follow him. On the way up the stairs, he saw Shane burst from one of the rooms and begin a sulking descent toward him. James slowed as Shane did when he neared, Shane glowering at him hatefully. James’s glare was none too friendly either.

  “You take advantage of my sister and I’ll kill you,” he hissed, coming to a halt halfway down the stairs. “You hear me?”

  “My intentions are entirely honorable,” James replied smoothly. “I mean to marry her.”

  Shane’s laughter was harsh and mocking. “Right. Have you got her believing that as well?” He nudged James’s shoulder much as Leachman had done at the Harkness Ball.

  “Do not,” James cautioned, standing firm, his voice tight with anger. “You will not like where it leads.”

  The butler’s steps had lagged. He paused midpoint of the stairs, clearly wondering what to do.

  “You think you can best me?”

  “You are brimming with bravado, aren’t you?” James sneered, knocking his arm away. “If your sister doesn’t see a profound apology for the rudeness I overheard by morning, I can assure you, we’ll find out.”

  “How about right now?”

  James’s hands fisted tightly. It would be his sincere pleasure to go a round or two with Shane Aston and show him how to back up a threat.

  The butler paused at the top of the stairs, wringing his hands worriedly. He feared a fight in his home. James didn’t blame him. One was brewing, but then Prim stepped out into the hall behind Banks, and some of James’s anger slipped away.