by Amanda Quick
He considered her for a long, meditative moment. “Very well. You have convinced me that you would be no safer in the country than you are under this roof.”
She stopped in front of the spiral staircase and smiled in relief. “Precisely.”
“However, from this moment on, neither you nor Margaret will leave this house alone. Whenever either of you go out you will be accompanied by me or one of the male servants.”
“What about Bennett Fleming? Surely he is an acceptable companion? We know he is not the killer. Aside from all else, he is simply too short.”
Arthur hesitated and then nodded once. “I think it is safe to say that Bennett is no mad alchemist bent on conducting a crazed experiment. I would trust him with my life. Very well, he qualifies as a suitable escort. I shall speak with him as soon as possible. He must understand that there is some danger afoot so that he will keep a close watch on you and Margaret whenever you are with him.”
“Yes. We must also tell Margaret about this secret investigation.”
A thick, heavy silence gripped the library. Elenora became acutely aware of the crackle and sputter of the flames. The discussion had ended. They had arrived at a compromise, one that would allow her to stay in this house and help Arthur find the killer.
The sensible thing to do now was go upstairs and seek her bed.
She glanced at the door but could not muster the will to walk toward it.
For his part, Arthur showed no interest in leaving, either. He continued to contemplate her with his fascinating eyes.
“Hitchins was right about you,” he said after the silence had stretched to the breaking point. “You are a very strong-minded, very determined woman, Miss Elenora Lodge. You have spirit. I do not believe that, in the whole of my life, I have engaged in as many quarrels as I have with you in the past few days.”
Her heart sank. He considered her a quarrelsome female. Everyone knew that men did not find difficult women attractive.
She cleared her throat. “I believe that we have had a few heated discussions, sir, but I do not think it is fair to say that we have quarreled.”
“Heated discussions. Is that what you call them? Well, I suspect that we are fated to have any number of them so long as you live in this household. A daunting thought, is it not?”
“You are teasing me, my lord. I doubt that such a prospect will cause either of us to tremble in fear.”
His mouth lifted faintly at the corner. “Is there anything at all that would cause you to quake in fear, Miss Lodge?”
She gestured in what she hoped appeared to be blithe unconcern. The truth was, she was trembling a little at that very moment, but not in fear. She prayed that he would not notice.
“Any number of things,” she assured him.
“Indeed.” He started toward her with a deliberate tread, his voice darkening with sensuality. “What about the possibility that if we continue to work together in such an intimate fashion, we may do more than engage in a series of heated discussions? Is that one of the things that could cause you to quiver and shake, Miss Lodge?”
She met his gaze, saw the rising heat in them and nearly melted into the carpet.
“We are both exceptionally strong-minded individuals,” she said, feeling oddly breathless. “I am certain that we are each quite capable of keeping our association entirely professional in nature.”
He halted in front of her, the toes of his boots mere inches from the tips of her shoes. If she took a step back she would come up hard against the wrought-iron balusters of the spiral staircase.
“We may both be capable of maintaining a professional relationship,” he said very softly. “But what if we choose not to do so? What happens then, Miss Lodge? Will you tremble?”
Her mouth went dry. Excitement snapped through her. She felt the knee-weakening warmth pooling in her lower body. She could not bring herself to look away from the smoldering fires in his eyes.
“I do not find myself trembling at that prospect either, sir,” she whispered.
“No?” He raised his arms and reached around and behind her to grip the balusters on either side of her head. “I envy you, Miss Lodge. Because every time I contemplate the prospect of an intimate connection with you, I do tremble.”
He was not touching her, but he had effectively imprisoned her. He was standing so close she could breathe in his unique, intriguing scent. Her head began to spin. She had to dampen her lips with the tip of her tongue before she could speak.
“Rubbish,” she managed. That sounded rather weak, she decided. Unable to resist the very closeness of him, she touched his jaw with her fingertips. “You are not even quivering.”
“That statement only proves how little you know about me.”
He did not take his hands off the bars on either side of her head, but he leaned forward until his mouth hovered just above hers.
He intended to kiss her, she thought, but he was giving her time to protest or bolt for the door.
A wild, reckless rush of sensation swept through her. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was run from him. Quite the opposite. Everything in her yearned to plunge into his embrace and allow herself to experience the mysteries of the passion that she knew she would find in his arms.
She flattened her palms on the front of his white linen shirt. When she touched him she heard a low, hungry groan deep in his chest. The knowledge that she had such a powerful effect on him made her feel as though she were a sorceress.
She sensed rather than saw his hands tighten into fists around the iron bars, and then his mouth closed over hers.
Sensation whipped through her; a glorious, heady, dizzying whirlpool of passion. She knew that if she did not explore these thrilling emotions with him she would carry the regret with her for the rest of her life.
Her hands slipped upward to encircle his neck. He reacted immediately, crowding against her until she was pressed tightly between his aroused body and the staircase. He gripped the balusters as though they were the only things that kept them both fastened to the earth.
“Elenora.” He drew a deep breath. “My brain tells me that this is not a good idea. But I do not seem to be able to listen to any more logic tonight.”
“There are other things in the world besides logic, sir.” She smiled up at him. “Things that are equally important.”
“Until tonight, I did not believe that.”
He kissed her again, deeply this time.
She responded eagerly, parting her lips for him and pushing her fingers through his dark hair.
He took his right hand off the baluster next to her left ear and began to unfasten the bodice of her gown. It fell away with shocking ease. When she felt his palm close over her left breast, surprise and pleasure rushed through her. A strange, delicious tension began to build deep inside. She heard herself utter a soft, husky cry.
He raised his head and looked down at her breast cradled in his palm.
“You are lovely.” He used his thumb to circle her nipple.
She wanted to touch him just as intimately. She lowered her hands and went to work unfastening his shirt. He muttered something. She could not make out the words, but the exciting promise in them was crystal clear.
By the time she got the garment open, her pulse was racing, causing wave after wave of tiny shivers to pulse through her. She drew her fingertips down his bare chest, entranced by the sensual feel of his firm skin and the texture of the hair that covered it.
Unable to resist, she kissed his throat and then his shoulder.
He shuddered.
His response encouraged her to move her palm lower, gliding across the sleekly muscled expanse of bare flesh until she was stopped by the waistband of his trousers.
He made a sound that was half groan and half muffled laugh and captured her exploring hand.
“We are playing with fire,” he said against the curve of her shoulder. “It is not a sport in which I often indulge. But tonight I am convinced that
some flames are worth the risk.”
She was not certain what he meant by that. But before she could query him on the subject, he released the other bar behind her head and picked her up, holding her snugly against his chest. The skirts of her partially unfastened gown spilled over his arms and brushed against the back of a chair.
He carried her swiftly across the room and put her down on the carpet in front of the fire. Before she could reorient herself to this new position, he lowered himself alongside her.
Cradling her in his left arm, he seized a fistful of her skirts in his other hand and crumpled the soft fabric all the way up past her thighs. She stopped breathing when she realized that she was exposed to him in the firelight.
A woman of the world would no doubt find this quite normal, she reminded herself. And it was certainly exciting to feel the heat of the flames on her bare skin.
She closed her eyes very tightly against the bright, shivery thrills that were tripping through her. His hand left her thigh. She realized that he was fumbling with the opening of his trousers.
A moment later she felt the firm thrust of his erection pushing against her bare hip. Curious, she opened her eyes just far enough to take a quick peek. She had seen aroused farm animals but she had never seen a man in such a condition.
The sight of his fully erect body rendered her nearly speechless.
“Good heavens,” she gasped before she could stop herself. He was big, much bigger than she had expected. And so very male.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, bending his head to kiss her throat. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, of course.”
She shut her eyes again very quickly. She wanted to ask him if such size was normal, but she feared that the question might disturb his current mood. She certainly did not want him to think that she was another Juliana, terrified of his lovemaking. She would have to be subtle about this, she thought.
Before she could summon the right words for such a delicate inquiry, she got another jolt when he casually removed a linen handkerchief from a pocket and placed it to one side. Did he expect to sneeze in the middle of this business? she wondered.
But before she could ask about the handkerchief or the matter of size, his fingers threaded their way through the nest of hair that concealed her most private parts.
And then he was touching her in the most intimate fashion, setting off a delicious aching sensation. She twisted against him, seeking something more, something she could not describe.
“You are ready for me, are you not?” he said against her mouth. “So moist and plump and soft.”
“Yes, yes.” She had no notion of what he meant by those words, but she could give no other answer other than yes to him tonight.
He rolled on top of her, separating her thighs with a deliberate pressure of his own. She was aware of his erection probing the damp, throbbing entrance of her body and wondered if it was too late to discuss the question of size.
It was too late. Much too late. He was already easing himself into her body, pushing steadily, filling her until she thought she would burst.
A sharp, unexpected pain splashed through her. Startled, she cried out softly and dug her nails into his back.
“Hell’s teeth.”
Her eyes snapped open. She found herself looking up into his fierce gaze.
“Elenora.” His face was taut with an emotion that might have been anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” She wriggled a bit, aware that her body was already adjusting to his. It was a very tight fit, she concluded, but he did fit. Barely. That was the important thing.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were a virgin?” he said through his teeth.
“Because it wasn’t important.”
“I consider it important.”
“I don’t.”
“Damnation, I took you to be a lady of some experience in this sort of thing.”
She smiled up at him. “I have good news, sir. As of this instant, I am, indeed, a lady of some experience.”
“Do not taunt me,” he warned. “I am exceedingly annoyed with you.”
“Does that mean that you are not going to finish what we have started?”
His face was fierce in the firelight. “I cannot seem to think clearly at the moment.”
She speared her fingers through his hair. “Then you must allow me to make the decision for both of us. I would prefer to finish if you feel that you are capable of doing so.”
“Capable? I am incapable of doing anything else.”
He braced his elbows on the carpet, caught her head between his palms and kissed her ruthlessly. She felt him begin to move, slowly, cautiously within her. She sensed that he was at the limits of his usually exquisite control, and she delighted in the knowledge that she had been the one to push him to this dangerous edge.
He rocked against her, driving himself deeper, moving faster now. The muscles of his back were rigid bands beneath her palms. A sweet tension built inside her. She clutched him closer, eager to explore this new, uncharted territory.
“Elenora. Elenora, I cannot hold back. Forgive me.”
Without warning he pulled himself free of her body, reared back on his knees, and grabbed the handkerchief that he had placed conveniently at hand a few minutes before. He wrapped the square of linen around the head of his shaft. His mouth opened on a heavy groan and his eyes narrowed into intense slits as he spent himself.
When it was over, he collapsed, sprawling partway across her breasts, one leg flung over her thighs, his arm curved possessively around her.
She lay quietly for a time, taking in the sensations of the moment; the weight of Arthur’s body, the warmth of the fire and the lingering tenderness between her thighs.
Arthur stirred eventually, raising himself on his elbows to look down at her.
“Not quite what you were expecting, was it?” he asked.
“It was . . . interesting,” she said.
He winced. “Talk about damning with faint praise.”
She had hurt his feelings, she thought. “Parts of the experience were quite . . . stimulating,” she assured him.
He bent toward her, resting his forehead on top of hers, and kissed the tip of her nose. “I must apologize, my sweet.”
Panic shot through her. She wriggled out from underneath him and sat up quickly, holding the bodice of her gown over her breasts.
She glared at him. “You must not blame yourself, Arthur.”
He rolled onto his back, folded his arms behind his head and studied her with an unreadable expression. “No?”
“Of course not. I encouraged you, if you will recall. My grandmother once told me about certain stimulating sensations that can only be experienced in the arms of a man. I have been curious about those feelings for some time now, and I assure you I was eager to discover the truth of her words.”
“You used me to satisfy your curiosity?” He raised his brows. “And here I was under the illusion that you were simply attracted to me.”
“I was attracted to you.” She was horrified that he might think otherwise. “Very intensely attracted. Indeed, I have never been so attracted to a man.”
“Kind of you to say so, but I cannot help but think that you are only trying to make me feel somewhat better about what just happened.”
“There is no reason for you to feel badly about it, I assure you, sir. It was all my idea.”
“You do realize, do you not, that if you had bothered to mention your own lack of experience at some point, things would have progressed in a somewhat different fashion?”
He was not going to let this go. He was still annoyed. She flushed, aware that she was starting to feel the pangs of an emotion that might well prove to be guilt.
She sighed. “Yes, I am well aware that if you had believed me to be inexperienced, your excessively strict sense of responsibility would no doubt have prevented you from making love to me.”
A
smile ghosted through his eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“There is no need for you to speak the words,” she muttered. “I am well aware that I had no right to put you into such a position.” Anger jumped within her. “But I must tell you that it is extremely irritating to experience such an exciting sensation one moment and then be obliged to feel so much guilt and responsibility about it the next.”
He startled her with a wholly unexpected, exceedingly wicked grin. “In that we are in complete agreement, Miss Lodge.”
She glared. “Sir, I would remind you yet again that I am not in the same category as the young ladies on the marriage mart this Season. I am not another sweet, innocent, overly sheltered Juliana.”
He sat up slowly. “Whatever else you are, Elenora, you are no Juliana.”
“Yes, well, I just wanted to make certain that you understood quite clearly that what happened here tonight was in no way your fault. You bear no responsibility whatsoever for any of it.”
He considered that for what seemed an eternity. Then he nodded once and rolled to his feet with a smooth, easy movement.
“Do you know, my dear, I believe I do, indeed, concur with you on that point.” He went to stand in front of the fire and shoved his shirt back into his trousers. “Very well, you have convinced me. I shall be happy to place the whole weight of the blame on your charming head. I might even go so far as to say that I feel that I have been used.”
“No.” Shocked, she scrambled to her feet. “No, indeed, I never intended to use you, Arthur.”
“Nevertheless, that is what it comes down to, does it not?” Finished with his trousers, he turned around to face her. “You took advantage of my great weakness where you are concerned to explore a stimulating new experience, did you not?”
She felt herself turn very warm. “You are most certainly not weak, sir.”
“I appear to be when it comes to you.”
“Nonsense.”
He held up one palm. “Ah, but you knew full well that I could not resist kissing you. Admit it.”
She thought she saw a suspicious gleam in his eyes. Was he laughing at her? No, that made no sense. This conversation was far too serious.
