But even when he did manage to stir a flutter of want, she’d pushed her feelings back down. Their relationship was about his care, his needs, not hers. And besides, hadn’t she learned that desire was sin?
So she’d carefully tucked away any feelings of passion. She’d not allowed John’s touch to affect her.
They had been nothing like this all-consuming pleasure she’d just experienced.
She’d known being the duke’s mistress would be a sin. But to allow him such liberties and to like them…
She supposed she’d known he’d teach her about carnal pleasure. She just hadn’t expected it to be so…overwhelming. And so incredible.
“Passion is a natural and healthy occurrence between consenting adults.”
She believed him. Mostly. “I suppose I can see the function it performs with a married couple. A lack of lust can tear two people apart.”
He looked down at her, his face hidden in shadow. “Is that how it was in your marriage?”
She nodded. “I’m afraid so.” She reached up and scrubbed her face with her hands. “But try to understand, I wasn’t supposed to want him. We weren’t supposed to…”
He reached for her cheeks, pushing her hands aside and cupping her face in his. “You’re a vicar’s daughter. I should have known.”
She bit her lip, trying to read his face. She’d sat through endless sermons on sins of the flesh. Both in the pews of the church and more personal lectures delivered by her father as she’d grown older. “Don’t misunderstand. I don’t believe my father either. His assertion that passion is a sin and that I should only endure my husband’s touch.” She shuddered. “I tried it his way. And…” She looked away. “But to enter a relationship with you outside of wedlock is different. What we just did…it must be wrong.”
“Why is that?” he asked, leaning closer.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “It, it felt so good.”
He chuckled, low and deep. “It did.”
She shook her head. “Can I confess to you that I’ve been afraid to marry again?”
“Why?” he whispered, his hands massaging down her neck.
“For all the reasons we’ve already discussed. I don’t want to disappoint…”
He grimaced, shaking his head. “You married a sick man who wished for passion from you but couldn’t give it in return. That sounds doomed to fail.”
His words soothed a bit of her hurt. And she appreciated them greatly, just as she would remember this time in the garden forever. What had happened between them had been magical. “And a short relationship with a duke will be a success?”
He paused, leaning back on his heels. “You’ve got me there.”
She pushed her skirts back down her legs. She should not have allowed him such liberties but she’d wanted to know…was she even capable of such passion? He’d proven so, a lesson that somehow lightened the burden in her heart. “We can’t give in to our cravings again.”
“Why not?” He stood, towering over her as he leaned his hands on the wall.
She shook her head. “I already told you. It isn’t right.”
“I disagree. It was very right.”
She let out a long breath, tilting her chin to look up into his eyes. “I’m glad you’ve helped me discover that I can…that I’m able to…”
“I’m glad too,” he whispered low as he leaned closer, placing a light kiss on her neck.
She placed a hand on his chest, trying to create some distance. But her fingers only twisted into the folds of his shirt. “But try to understand. Our interlude only proves to me that perhaps I could marry. If I can experience such passion, mayhap I won’t be such a disappointment.” What if she found a patient husband, someone willing to show her how to be a good wife in the most private of moments? Damian could teach her that but his arrangement was temporary. Was she only to warm Damian’s bed until he tired of her and moved on to the next mistress?
And what would that do to her own heart?
He leaned back again. “That is why you were considering my offer. You thought you wouldn’t make a man happy in the bedroom?”
She shrugged, looking away. “That was part of it, yes.”
He let out a long sigh. “I hate it when I’m so mistaken.”
“How is that?” she looked back at him then.
“I meant to show you how good it could be between us.” Then he leaned over once again and captured her lips with his own.
She couldn’t deny that it had been good. Far better than that. It had been absolutely wonderful. Even thinking about it made her ache with need all over again.
But she also knew that she couldn’t go through with it. Somehow, knowing their passion burned so hot only made her realize that she was bound to be burned.
She pulled away and slipped underneath one of his arms, skittering a few steps away. “Damian. I am sorry but I still need to think about your offer. It’s risky and…we likely shouldn’t…” The words failed her. Part of her still wanted him and wished to ignore the possible consequences of his arrangement.
But another part cried out that she needed to think, not just feel. Not knowing what else to do, she turned and fled.
“We should,” he murmured into the night, slowly following behind her. He’d let her run for now. But she wasn’t getting away. Not from him. He twisted his neck, a crack filling the air. He watched her slip through the doors into the music room and he quickened his pace.
She didn’t stop but continued out into the hall as he made his way into the room. Heading into the hall, he saw her start up the stairs. He waited until she stopped on the third floor and disappeared, then he started up the steps two at a time.
He’d be lying if he said the thrill of the chase didn’t make his heart beat a touch faster. Between that and the need already pulsing inside him, he was a throbbing ball of excited energy.
He reached the top of the stairs just in time to see her disappear into a doorway. The fifth on the left. Grinning, he started down the hallway, stopping in front of her door. He reached for the knob, still tasting her on his lips. She’d been intoxicatingly delicious and he’d only begun to taste her.
But the sound from the other side of the door stopped him. From inside the room, he heard the muffled sound of her cries. As though she’d tossed herself on the bed and sobbed into the blankets.
His passion, the need for the hunt, left him as a new emotion swelled in his chest. Sympathy.
Letting go of the knob, he raised his knuckles and rapped with three quick knocks on the door. “Cassandra,” he called. “Open the door.”
Her sobs ended, the room going quiet. She didn’t answer.
“I won’t touch you. I want to…talk.” Such odd words from him but true. He’d pushed her too hard and he knew it. He’d allowed the need building inside him to dictate his actions. She likely hadn’t been ready for such an interlude.
He could be overwhelming for many. He knew that. He tended to go after what he wanted with a single-minded purpose.
But he’d erred this time. Because while he’d proven what he’d set out to, showing her the amazing sexual connection between them, he’d failed to truly understand her hesitations before he’d acted.
He heard the rustling of her skirts. “I don’t think being alone with you in my room is a good idea.” Her voice moved closer with each word and he knew she approached the door.
He let out a slow breath raking his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He heard the light tap of her slippers on the hardwood floor as she crossed the room. Then the doorknob squeaked as she twisted it open.
Her tear stained face appeared in the door. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s mostly my own fault.”
Those words only made him feel worse. “Not true.” He leaned a hand on the frame of the door. Then, slowly, he raised his other to lightly stroke her cheek, wiping away several tears. “I am the sort of man that when I see what I want
I go after it.” Usually without mercy.
She nibbled her lower lip. “I was curious and I’m glad…” She stopped, looking to the floor. “I already told you why,” she said, then shifted. “I hope you understand. I need to think about everything. I have to decide what my future holds.”
He grimaced, leaving now was a risk. If he left her to think, she’d likely decide pursuing marriage was far better than being a man’s mistress. No matter how powerful he was or how rich he made her.
The thought of marrying her himself flashed through his thoughts. Did he actually wish to bed her that badly?
He clenched the wood. He might. She’d tasted better than anyone woman he’d ever touched and he knew she’d feel even better. “Perhaps we should continue making your list, then.”
The door opened a bit wider. “Are you certain?” she asked. “What if the list weighs more heavily in the negative?”
He’d always been willing to take risks. Hell, his face was scarred because he’d become engaged to a woman everyone had told him to avoid. “A chance I’ll take.”
She opened the door, stepping out. “I think it best we go back to the music room for this conversation.”
Disappointment coursed through him. He wanted to be in her chamber. Even through the crack, he could see the large bed that filled the center of the room. He could picture laying her down and stripping off her clothes. Desire pulsed through him again but he pushed it back down.
He had to stop allowing lust to dictate his actions. She needed some emotional support to feel comfortable and…he wanted to give that to her. After all, he’d been the one who made her so uneasy in the first place.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t just because he wished to bed her. Part of him wanted to nurture her too. He pushed off the door jamb, his stomach clenching at the unexpected turn his thoughts had taken. This was already becoming complicated.
She swiped at her eyes and stepped out of the room. “Okay, I do want to make the list of pros and cons.”
He placed his hand onto her back as they started strolling back down the hall. “All right,” he said. “What drove you away? What are the negatives?” He looked over watching her face tighten.
“You’ve given me a choice. Which I appreciate. And you’ve shown me passion, which I am also grateful for, though…”
“Though you’re a bit confused about what you’ve learned,” he finished. He understood. His gut twisted again. Passion in the marriage bed, she’d participate in that. But for a religious man’s offspring, carnal pleasure outside the sanctity of marriage was a difficult choice for her to make. And that began to fill him with doubt. He’d consider this a mutually beneficial relationship, but her financial gain could not be balanced if she emotionally suffered.
She nodded. “What we just did…I refuse to regret it. It answered a question that has plagued me for the last several years. And now that I know I might be able to…” She stopped in the hall. “Your Grace,” she started.
He turned toward her, not sure he wanted to know what she planned to say next. “Not Damian?”
She shook her head. “I considered your offer because I thought I was too flawed for marriage but…” He saw her lips tremble. “I’m afraid I can’t, knowing what I do now, accept. I hope you understand.”
Then she turned and started back down the hall.
And this time, he let her go.
Chapter Six
Cassandra rose early the next morning and fled the house, wanting to make certain she did not see Damian.
It was a coward’s retreat but a necessary one.
First because she had several articles of clothing she needed to retrieve from the local dressmaker. Raithe had ordered them to prepare for their visitors.
Which reminded her, in theory, other men were about to arrive to potentially court her. Make her a wife and not just a mistress.
A powerful reason to decline Damian’s offer.
The problem was, she didn’t wish to make another match that didn’t have a physical attraction.
And if Damian were still here, how could she possibly consider another man? He was the only one she’d ever wanted like this. Which made her mind eager to accept his offer even as her fingers itched to run through his hair.
She sighed.
Her thoughts had danced circles like this for much of the night and she was no closer to a decision.
She walked the short distance to the village and made her way into the shop.
A woman was already being served and Cassandra settled into a chair to wait her turn.
“Mrs. Winterset,” the shopkeeper called, giving her a bright smile. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Of course,” she replied. Truthfully, the longer the errand took, the better off she’d be. If she could avoid the house entirely today, she would. “Take your time.”
The other woman pursed her lips. “Miss Hammond is nearly finished,” her voice had taken on a hard edge. “Isn’t that right, Miss Hammond?”
The other woman, a petite and pretty blonde, stood on a pedestal as she was being fitted, her dress stuck with a thousand pins as she looked back at the shopkeeper with a cringe. “I’m sure I am at your discretion.”
The dressmaker tsked. “Allow me to help you out of the dress.”
Cassandra ducked her head, not understanding the tension that had entered the room. But it wasn’t her business, and besides, she had her hands full with her own set of problems involving one very enigmatic duke.
But as the other woman left, the dressmaker gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a shame I have to have such harlots as customers.”
“I beg your pardon?” Cassandra asked, her head snapping up.
The dressmaker waved her hand. “That one there is the paramour of a powerful man whose identity I’m not at liberty to share.” Then the other woman leaned closer. “But he sits in a very powerful position in the village.”
Cassandra blinked. She didn’t know the village very well, John having passed in the late fall, she’d only recently come out of mourning. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know him.”
But the dressmaker continued on as though Cassandra hadn’t spoken. “And his poor wife…”
That made her jolt. She’d only just realized that the reason the duke may want her as a mistress was because he was already married. The very idea filled her with shame. Surely, Raithe wouldn’t have invited him if he were married, but then again, she didn’t remember Raithe mentioning Damian at all. Was he even supposed to be here? “That would be very difficult.”
The other woman shook her head. “Of course, it’s more common than you can even imagine, but still. We should have standards. And I for one prefer to support the respectable and ethical members of our society.”
Cassandra swallowed a lump. Which side of that line did she fall on? Was she still the ethical married woman who’d been miserable in her marriage?
Or had she become the fallen woman participating in debaucherous behavior and pleasure of the flesh? “Who was the girl before she was a mistress?”
The other woman’s hand came to her hips. “What does that matter? I was once a woman who could barely care for herself. But I learned a trade rather than compromising my principles.”
Cassandra winced but said nothing. If she accepted the duke’s offer, she’d be one of the women the dressmaker disparaged. She didn’t want to care but the problem was that some part of her agreed with the other woman. She should be pursuing a marriage.
She’d already allowed the duke too many liberties.
Her stomach twisted. She should say no. But then again, his offer, if she accepted, would keep her beyond comfortable and give her the choice to marry in the future. And, if she were honest, part of her simply wanted to allow him to touch her again.
When had the line of her life become so grey?
Damian woke in the late morning to find the house mostly empty.
When he asked where Cassandra was, he’d been primly i
nformed she was out running errands. Not certain what else to do, he saddled his horse, intent upon a long, hard ride.
Because he’d been denied the ride he’d really wanted.
The grounds were excellent for any sort of terrain a man might wish to have. And the groom who accompanied him was fast, agile, and talked little. All excellent traits, in Damian’s opinion.
He rode hard and fast, wiping his mind clean of any thoughts. Including ones of a petite brunette with soulful eyes and enough passion to keep a man entertained for months on end. Maybe years.
He shook that thought away.
This was not a long-term arrangement.
After nearly three hours, they finally circled back to the house. Damian was tired, his mind wiped blessedly clean as the stables came into view.
But another sight filled him with all the tension of which he’d worked so hard to rid himself.
Walking along the trail was Cassandra herself, carrying several packages under her arms.
Without thought, he swung down from his saddle and handed his reins to the groom. “Can someone wipe him down for me?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The other man replied, leading his horse away.
Cassandra had stopped, turning toward him. “You didn’t need to stop on my account.”
“Why didn’t you take a carriage if you had all those packages?”
She shrugged. “I am enough of a burden to Raithe. And I don’t mind the exercise.”
He grimaced as he pulled several parcels from her arms. “You worry too much about being a burden to others. Live life for yourself.”
She shrugged. “I think I worry the correct amount.” He watched as she caught her lip. “You are a man and a powerful one at that. You’ve no idea what it means to be judged by others and treated harshly for your shortcomings.”
He sensed there was more to this comment. “Who judged you?”
“No one,” she started toward the house again. “But they will.”
Ahh. Now he understood. She was worried how the world would perceive her if she accepted his offer. “You shouldn’t let other people shape your opinion of yourself.”
Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances Page 59
