by Lucy Monroe
The mere mention of the word gloves made her shudder. Lady Boyle had insisted on buying gloves to match every one of the new outfits they had ordered and she had made Thea try them on as if one pair of gloves were going to fit differently than another. “Then you have some small idea of what I have been through. I thought my aunt a frail old woman, but she and Lady Boyle left me gasping for air after the third modiste.”
She hobbled after him on swollen feet as he pulled her across the room to a small sofa under the window. The light played over the crimson cushions invitingly. She liked Lady Boyle’s library. Its quiet simplicity soothed her. The same books she had grown up reading graced the shelves and gave her a feeling of belonging amidst this all too foreign environment. She loved the smell of rich leather and paper that permeated the room as well. It was so much better than the city smells that assaulted her the moment she left Lady Boyle’s townhouse.
“I thought all ladies liked the excitement of buying a new wardrobe.” She could tell from the devilment sparkling in his eyes that he was trying to bait her.
“Our aunts and your mother certainly do. Even if it is for someone else. In fact, I’m sure that aspect enhanced their enjoyment. They didn’t have to suffer through the fittings.”
He pressed her down onto the sofa. “But not you.”
She glared up at him. “Do I look like I’ve had a pleasant afternoon? I spent hours being poked and prodded by women who must have read the works of the Marquis De Sade.”
He made a choking sound. “Do not tell me that you have read his work.”
She was back to wanting to throttle him. “Of course not.”
Drake nodded and joined her on the sofa. “So how do you know about him?”
“I was raised in the West Indies, not a convent. Sailors talk. Especially the French.” How had they gotten on such and obscure and uninteresting subject?
She wanted to tell him her complaints, not discuss sailor’s gossip, but all thought of gossip and complaining went right out of her head when Drake lifted her feet into his lap.
Shifting the hem of her gown above her ankles, he exposed her feet. “You are wearing stockings.”
Sometimes he said the strangest things. “Naturally. Have you not noticed how cold England is?”
His smile made her insides put lie to her words. England, cold? Not at all.
“I was remembering the first time I saw you. You had your skirt up and were fanning your incredibly alluring ankles. Ankles covered with nothing but the hot Caribbean air.”
His voice sent shivers up her spine. Alluring ankles?
“I didn’t know you were there.” Her voice which only moments ago had been waspish, now came out breathless.
He had that affect on her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ashby and Ruth are concerned that I spend too much time at the warehouse, that the company of sailors is not good for me or my small daughter. I have found them to be an honest lot for the most part and though, their conversation is colorful, I never feel threatened around them. I have had to be more circumspect with Thea however. This morning she asked for a bloody biscuit. Ruth nearly fainted, but I fought a desperate urge to laugh.
October 12, 1803 Journal of Anna Selwyn, Countess of Langley
He laughed softly and began to massage the underside of one of her feet. “I know. You looked so blissful.”
Blissful was having your feet massaged by an incredibly handsome man like Drake. She relaxed against the cushions of the couch.
“That feels so good.” If she were a cat, she would have purred with the pleasure of it. However, she felt compelled to add, “I’m sure your aunt would have palpitations if she walked in and found you doing this.”
His grin was wicked. “I locked the door.”
Her gaze flew to the library door, shut firmly against intruders. “Lady Boyle will pitch a fit if she finds out.”
He gave her a measuring look. “What did my aunt say that you are so concerned about her reaction?”
“She and my aunt spent the day lecturing me on the proper behavior of your fiancée.”
“And Mama?”
“She showed considerable restraint and merely pointed out that as you move among the ton, I would be expected to do so too. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to disappoint your mother? I felt I had to be on my best behavior and I hate lying to her.”
“You really had a grueling day, didn’t you?” The sympathy in his voice and magic of his massaging touch did a good deal to sooth her sensibilities.
“You cannot imagine how awful it was,” she agreed, “I stood for hours being fitted for more gowns than I’ll wear in a lifetime, much less this one short Season.”
“And getting new clothes holds no appeal for you?”
She let her eyes flutter close, concentrating on the wonderful experience of having him rub her pinched feet. “It’s just so different from my island. There, if Aunt Ruth wanted me to have a new dress, she and Melly made it. I never had to go shopping for fabrics.” The prettiest textiles from all over the world came through their small port. “You would not believe how low the modiste wanted to cut the neckline on my gowns. England is much too cold to expose so much of my person to the elements.”
He made a noncommittal sound and his fingers continued their ministrations.
“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that I’m supposed to wear those horrible stays, several petticoats, but expose my bosom to everyone and sundry?”
He chuckled.
“It is not a whit amusing...” her voice trailed into nothingness as he began to rub the other foot also and her entire body liquefied. “Oh, that is just right.”
“I am sure you told the modiste what you felt regarding current fashions.” He still sounded amused.
“I did, but my aunt was most insistent regarding stays. She wasn’t at all impressed with the findings of the American physicians.”
“Lady Upworth convinced you to wear a corset?” He didn’t sound at all happy about the prospect.
“No. Thankfully, Lady Boyle stood up for me on that count and said one could not expect a lady raised in the wilds to adopt every English custom. I wasn’t exactly raised in the wilds, but I didn’t belabor the point. Arguing with your aunt is exhausting.”
He moved his strong, warm fingers up to her ankles. Did he have any idea of the effect he was having on her?
Her legs tingled in the most amazing way and a totally inappropriate desire for his hands to move higher beset her.
“And will the gowns show a great deal of your bosom?”
“What?” How could he expect her to think when her body was on fire?
He repeated his question, the amusement conspicuously absent from his voice.
“No. I was quite firm and would not allow her to cut them any lower than my current fashion. I have no intention of contracting the ague because the English style dictates too little fabric in one’s gowns.”
“Good.”
She didn’t respond. She was too busy trying to deal with the feelings elicited by the move of his hands from her ankles to the lower portion of her legs. He alternated between caressing her with soft light strokes and kneading her muscles. It felt delicious and relaxing, but also wonderfully intimate.
How had she gone so long without his touch? She wanted, no needed, to feel his hands on her bare skin again. All of her.
She opened her eyes and found him looking at her. The flames in his eyes matched the firestorm blazing inside her.
“Are you by any chance trying to seduce me?” she asked with mortifying breathlessness.
His fingertips inched above her knees, sending frissons of pleasure arcing up her inner thighs to the core of her. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes.” Then the reality of what she was saying intruded. “I mean no.”
She tried to pull her legs from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go. One hand held her legs while the other continued his heat generating caresses.
“We can’t do this.”
His fingertips slipped onto skin that no other man had ever touched. “Why not?”
For a minute she couldn’t remember any good reasons to stop. She searched her mind frantically while his touch sent thought after thought flying to oblivion.
Oh, yes. “A baby. We might make a baby.”
His hand did not still its movements. “That would be bad?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Feverish with excitement, she tried to remember why her getting pregnant would be a bad thing. The image of her body big with Drake’s child was more alluring than any ankles ever could be and it was only with great effort that she was able to remember her objection to the idea. “Then you would insist on marriage.”
He leaned toward her until his lips almost touched her own. “Thea, you are a very intelligent woman.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“But sometimes your stubbornness overcomes your insight.”
She frowned. What was he trying to say?
“I will insist on marriage anyway.” Then his lips were on hers, hot and demanding.
Giving up any attempt at rational thought, she fell into the kiss with all the enthusiasm at her disposal.
******
Drake exulted in Thea’s wholehearted surrender as his mouth devoured hers.
She writhed against him with the same sweet abandon that she had exhibited on the ship. Did she have any idea the effect her passion had on him? Without breaking the kiss, he slipped his hands further under her skirts and used her hips to pull her astride his lap until her unprotected feminine center was pressed close to the bulge in his pants.
She rocked against him and he came within a breath of exploding right then and there.
He cupped her bottom and forced her to still her movements. She groaned against his lips, shuddering. Using the same kneading movements he had on her feet, he caressed her backside, letting his fingertips stray to the apex of her thighs sporadically, until she was straining against his hands.
She tried to move herself against him.
“Wait, sweetheart. You aren’t ready yet.”
Eyes, unfocused in their passion, looked back at him disbelievingly. “I was ready days ago.”
So she had been craving his touch.
He smiled. “I want you begging.”
“I did the begging bit the first time. Couldn’t we just skip that part and make love?”
He laughed at her serious expression.
Suddenly it struck him how difficult it must have been for an independent and proud woman like Thea to ask him to make love to her, to beg as she put it. “Shall I beg this time?”
From the smile that transformed her passion to joyous delight, he assumed she liked the idea. He kissed the pink shell of her ear and nibbled on her earlobe.
She panted, pressing her breasts against him with the small, shallow breaths. “That feels good.”
“Will you please allow me to make love with you?” He whispered straight into her ear, allowing his breath to caress sensitive nerve endings.
She shivered and started unbuttoning his shirt with impatient fingers. “If we do, you will think I have compromised you again.”
She had that backwards, but since she didn’t sound as concerned as her words implied, he let it go and licked his way down her neck to her collarbone. “Please?”
She finished unbuttoning his shirt and slipped her hands inside, showing that no matter what she said, she did indeed want him. The feel of her small fingers playing across the heated skin of his chest made him swell more painfully against her and he groaned.
“We aren’t married, Mr. Drake. What would your aunt say?”
It finally dawned on him that the little baggage was teasing him and he growled against her throat.
Using his teeth, he pulled the fabric of her dress away to expose one perfect breast. Her breath hitched and then expelled in one long hiss as he took her nipple into his mouth. He suckled her for several seconds, working his tongue over the hard nub until her breast rose and fell in harsh rhythm against his mouth.
Her hands curled into fists against his chest. “Pierson.”
He loved it when she used his first name. It implied she was aware of him on a wholly intimate level. He was the only one who brought her to this place. The only man she had ever allowed to touch her body so familiarly.
Primitive possession and male satisfaction coursed through him. She did belong to him. Now and forever. He gently released her nipple from his mouth and showered her breast with tiny, biting kisses.
Squeezing her bottom, he rubbed her against his rigidity. “Do you feel me, Thea?”
“Ye-es.”
“Can you feel how hard I am?”
Her answer was to give him a hot, open-mouthed kiss that about sent him into the next world.
He broke his lips away from hers. “Will you give me the relief I seek?”
She met his gaze, hers serious and intent. “Is it merely relief you seek?”
He could not believe the doubt he read in her eyes. “You are what I seek. I need you, Thea. I have never felt this desperate to touch and be touched. I have been furious with you for refusing to marry me.”
She sighed. “I know. You feel obligated to marry me after I seduced you aboard ship. You have been angry that I would not bow to the dictates of your honor.”
His laughter startled him. How did she always manage to do this, amuse and exasperate at the same time?
“Honor has nothing to do with my anger, sweetheart. I want to be in your bed every night. Sometimes I lie awake for hours aching to hold you. Without marriage, I don’t have the right.”
She kissed the side of his cheek, near his ear and whispered, “You are holding me now.”
Yes, he was. Their discussion of marriage could wait until afterward. His body would not be denied another moment. Evidently hers would not be either, because she slipped her hands between them to undo the buttons on his pants. Her fingers rubbed against him as she worked the buttons and he groaned, sounding like a man in Pergatory.
Which he was until he could be ensconced in the haven of her body. “Hurry, sweetheart. I cannot wait much longer.”
“I can’t, either.”
Finally he was free. She circled him with her fingers and squeezed. He let out a feral shout and almost tumbled them both off the small sofa.
Stroking him, up and down, she gave him a mischievous smile. “I believe you were in the process of groveling, were you not?”
He brought one hand around and slipped his finger into the dewy curls at the apex of her thighs.
Rubbing the swollen nub he found there, he said, “Please.”
She arched against his finger and gave a muffled cry against his shoulder. He continued touching her while she writhed against his hand, her breathing labored and uneven. He took her silence for acquiescence and tried to tip her back onto the sofa. She resisted, pushing against his chest to keep him in place.
Did she want him to beg some more?
But the look in her eye was not one of teasing. She looked like she was trying to work something out. He almost groaned. If she were coming up with valid reasons not to make love, he was doomed.
Keeping his manhood in one hand, she slipped forward until his tip pressed against the opening to her feminine center. He could not believe what he was experiencing. Was his innocent Thea planning to ride him?
From the look of concentration on her face, he had to assume she was.
She smiled. “It will work like this, won’t it?”
He nodded, his tongue frozen in his mouth.
She let go of his shaft and he could not help surging upwards and into her.
Her eyes went wide as her tight passage stretched to accommodate his hardness. “You feel bigger than I remember.”
He forced himself to remain motionless. “Does it hurt?”
She shook her head. “No. It
feels...” Her voice trailed off and she moved experimentally against him. “It feels wonderful.”
Sweat trickled down his temples. “Yes, it does.”
She rocked against him, increasing her rhythm and the breadth of her movements until the pleasure began to build at the base of his hard flesh. He pressed against her back so that as she came forward with each thrust, her sweetest spot rubbed against his pelvic bone.
She sucked in her breath, her eyes closing and her head falling back. “Oh.”
He lowered his head to her breast and pleasured the swollen peak with his mouth. Her fingers locked in his hair, their grip frantic. He welcomed the small pain, not knowing how long he could hold out, but determined she find her completion first.
“Pierson. Oh, Pierson. Oh, Pierson.” She chanted his name as her rhythm increased to a frenzied level.
“That’s it.” He looked up from her breast and his breath caught in his throat at the look of rapture on her face. “Yes, just like that. Let go, Thea. I want to feel you lose control.”
She did, her entire body convulsing. Her feminine muscles clenched around his hard member until he felt his own release as inevitable as daybreak well up in him. He thrust against her, once, twice, a third time. She shuddered anew with each thrust and when he shot himself inside her, tears pooled in her eyes.
“I can feel the warmth of you filling me.”
“You are mine.” He thrust against her again and felt himself drained dry by her sweetness. “Do you understand? I am not just in you. I am part of you.”
She collapsed against him, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. “When we make love, I cannot tell where I leave off and you begin. It is as if our bodies are one.”
She couldn’t know how revealing her words were. She might not realize it, but she as good as admitted that there was no going back for them. They were too linked, inescapably connected by the miraculous things that happened when their bodies united.
He held her for several minutes, the room silent but for their mutual breathing slowly returning to normal and the sound of the mantel clock ticking away the passing time. He let his gaze wander around the library and smiled. He would not have described this particular room as seductive, but he would never again come in here without thinking of this time with Thea.
