Still kneeling on the other end of the bed, David watched her as if she were a cornered animal about to lash out.
“Regina, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”
“Leave.”
He flinched as if she had struck him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Get out. I do not want to talk about what you just did to me.”
Sliding to the floor, he braced his hands on his hips and scoffed. “And what did I do to you exactly? Fuck you, like you are paying me to? Or maybe you’re referring to the fact that you actually enjoyed it this time?”
Regina reared up from the bed, hands shaking as she balled them up at her sides. “How dare you? I am not paying you to contradict me or to force unwanted attentions upon my person!”
Running both hands through his mussed hair, he let out a frustrated growl. “If they were so unwanted, why didn’t you say anything? Why not push me away?”
She parted her lips to offer a retort, but no words were forthcoming. Why hadn’t she protested? David had complied with her every request without question, and she’d never felt as if she were in danger with him. If she had asked him to stop, Regina was certain he would have.
But she hadn’t, and she was angrier with herself than him for not knowing why.
“You stepped over the boundaries of what I have asked you to do, and you know it,” she protested, the words feebly whispered.
He paced away from her, snatching up his coat from the back of a chair. “What else would you have me do? It might come as a shock, but I don’t actually relish bedding you while you lay there like a corpse. I can literally see you counting the seconds until it’s over. Forgive me for thinking that this might all be a bit more tolerable for us both if you actually derived some pleasure from it! Oh, and that thing I just did to you is called an orgasm. I have yet to meet a woman who didn’t enjoy them.”
Stabbing one arm into his coat, then the other, he grunted while trying to wrestle it on without assistance. His flailing might have been comedic if not for the confused muddle of her mind and the nauseating roiling of her gut.
“Do not expect me to react that way in the future,” she snapped, tearing her gaze away from him and staring off across the room. “It was an anomaly, I’m sure. Whether or not I appreciate your ministrations is none of your concern. It isn’t why I hired you.”
His footsteps came to an abrupt halt, and she found him standing at the door with his hand on the knob.
“Madam, if you gave me half the chance, I could have you climbing the walls of this bedroom … and I could do it blindfolded with both hands tied behind my back.”
“Your arrogance is astounding.”
He smiled, the impact of it devastating. “It’s too bad you’ll never know if it’s actually arrogance, or irrefutable truth. Good evening, Regina. Send word when you are ready for me to return.”
Without a look back, he jerked the door open and left without bothering to shut it behind him. Powell appeared a few seconds later, his face expressionless. Still, Regina could see in his eyes that he’d heard every word.
Mortified, she ran a hand over her face. Had he also heard her keening like a deranged lunatic when the pleasure had overtaken her? The thought had her cheeks burning hot with embarrassment.
“Want me to break his arms?” Powell offered.
A little laugh bubbled up from her throat, though she was certain the man was only half-joking. Nevertheless, his quip had broken through some of the tension clogging the room.
“No, let him go. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Saying it aloud only made her feel worse, because in truth David had been trying to give her something. Dare she even say his efforts were those of kindness?
What a foreign concept. No man had ever given her anything out of the goodness of his heart, save Powell. Randolph had certainly never gone out of his way to ensure she enjoyed herself in the marriage bed. Her mother had insisted that Regina was wrong to require attentiveness and care from her husband. Her job was to produce children and please her husband. Marital relations were a duty to be taken seriously and endured, full stop. Her father and brother had chided her for complaining to them about the man who owned her per the law.
Before marriage to Randolph, life had been simpler and Regina had understood her place in the world as a young woman, a daughter, a sister. Her mother had doted on her, and while her father hadn’t been particularly attentive, neither had he been cruel. He praised her for her ladylike comportment—the results of years of governesses and an expensive seminary school education.
That all changed in the months leading up to her eighteenth birthday, when she began hearing arguments between her parents over money. Her mother often came to breakfast with red-rimmed eyes, avoiding Regina’s gaze. Not long after her birthday had passed, Regina was been introduced to Randolph. She’d been so enchanted by his handsome face and charm that she hadn’t realized what her parents had done until it was too late.
Her hand in marriage in exchange for the money to set their own affairs right—that was the price her parents had been willing to pay. Regina’s father had been determined she fulfill her part of a bargain she hadn’t even realized she’d taken part in. Her mother had shown sympathy, but followed her husband’s lead, becoming cold and distant. To this day, she wondered if that was her mother’s way of coping with what she had done. If she pretended her only daughter didn’t exist, she would not have to face the fact that she and her husband had made a deal with the devil and given up one of their children to do it.
A pounding began between her eyes, and Regina was suddenly very tired. She felt as if something inside her were being pulled in several different directions at once. Nothing made sense, and she couldn’t begin to figure out how to work through her convoluted thoughts.
“I am going to bed now, and I suggest you do the same,” she said, turning away from Powell. “Tomorrow will be soon enough for me to smooth things over with Mr. Graham.”
She paused in the midst of straightening the bedclothes, looking up to see that Powell hadn’t moved. He was watching her intently, eyes narrowed as if he were trying to see past her words and her feigned composure.
“You … want him back?”
She frowned. “Of course. He’s already been coming for weeks, understands my rules, and doesn’t strike me as being weak enough to quit me just because we had a little spat. There is no need to go looking for someone else. It will only prolong my mission.”
Nodding slowly, he never took those dark, penetrating eyes off her. “I see.”
Regina cleared her throat, staring from him and back to the bed, turned down and ready for her occupation. When she raised questioning eyebrows, Powell nodded and reached for the door.
“Right then. Good night, ma’am.”
“Good night, Powell.”
She climbed into bed once he had left and burrowed beneath the bedclothes. A desperate groan escaped her as she inhaled the now-familiar scent of David infused in her bedsheets. The phantom twinges of her recent orgasm made themselves apparent with a lingering ache between her legs. As she sank into the dark comfort of her solitude, Regina recalled the urgency of the moment before her world had exploded like a shower of stars, and shivered.
David hadn’t seen anything wrong with what he’d done, and perhaps Regina might not have either—before Randolph’s cruelty had made it necessary for her to protect herself. She’d done that for years by mastering her emotions and managing things that were within her power to control. That included being in command of her own body, and maintaining her sense of safety. David’s wandering hands and skillful plying of her body had shattered that so easily it frightened her.
For, if he could break through her façade so easily, what else might he be capable of? How badly might she be hurt if she gave in to the overwhelmingly powerful sense of vulnerability that had swept through her in the moments following … what had David called it? An orgasm. Such a simple word and a seemi
ngly meaningless thing. And yet, even now that he was long gone, Regina felt turned inside out and exposed. Weak. She had vowed never to let anyone else make her feel that way again.
But then, just before she drifted off to sleep, Regina was forced to admit—even if only to herself—that something deep within her craved more. That part of her pulsed and yearned for pleasure and satisfaction.
For David.
Chapter 7
“Your bath is ready, ma’am.”
Regina turned away from the window, where she stood staring listlessly out at the horizon. Her lady’s maid hovered near the steaming tub, which had just been filled for her. She’d been so lost in her disconcerting thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed the footmen trailing in and out with buckets.
“Thank you, Mary,” she replied, moving away from the window. “You may go.”
With a slight dip of her head, the maid retreated, leaving Regina alone with the specter of David Graham. Despite knowing she would eventually have to mend the rift caused by her reaction to last night’s events, she had spent most of her day trying to avoid the inevitable. That proved more difficult as the hours passed, making it impossible to think—let alone read, or reply to her correspondence, or lose herself in the mindless task of needlepoint. Every time her mind began to wander, it settled on David and the bewildering encounter that had left her feeling wrung dry.
After shrugging out of her dressing gown, she paused to face the mirror pushed into a far corner of the room. The reflection that met her was a pitiful one, and Regina had to force herself to confront it. During their courtship, Randolph had often waxed poetic about her beauty, leading her to believe he found something worth lingering over when he looked at her. Over the subsequent eight years, her husband had done everything within his power to tear that assumption to shreds. If his derisive remarks about the way she dressed or the style of her hair hadn’t been enough to destroy what little confidence she’d had in her own allure, then his many affairs would have done the trick. Regina had lain eyes on several of his lovers, seeing in them all the things she lacked. Hair that wasn’t such a garish and eye-snaring color. Eyes that sparkled with promise and the kind of joy Regina hadn’t possessed since girlhood. Faces that weren’t cursed with the smattering of unfashionable freckles.
Pressing a hand to her chest, she noted the collarbone that had begun to protrude too far after the first few years. Even her taste for food had been dimmed, and eating had become more about survival than enjoyment. Before she could lose her nerve, Regina pushed the chemise off her shoulders and let it fall to her feet. She had hardly ever allowed Randolph to see her nude, preferring to let him hitch up her nightgown and take what he wanted from her, keeping the fabric between them like a shield. Not that he had ever shown interest in doing anything other than penetrating her with his prick. Her gaze fell to the thatch of fiery curls between her thighs, and she shivered as she recalled David’s intent gaze on that most secret of places.
His stare had been the most bewildering part of the entire thing. Even in the dark she had registered the interest and curiosity in his eyes, as if the challenge of her body intrigued him in some way. Dare she allow herself to think there had been something else in those glittering blue depths? Desire, maybe? Need?
It was so odd, this idea that a man could look at her and want to do more than take and take until she had nothing left to give. She cupped a heavy breast with one hand, shame washing over her in a crushing tidal wave as she strummed her thumb over the nipple. Regina fought it back, determined to solve this mystery, to herself, as well as the man she had taken into her bed. A tingle of sensation flared where she touched herself, the nipple furling taut and protruding as if begging for more of that touch. Both nipples had felt like this last night when David was inside her, the tight buds rasping against her nightgown and begging for … something. She gave the nipple a light pinch and sucked in a sharp breath at the resulting twinge that shot through her, striking deep in her belly and ending in a pulse between her legs.
What would it feel like to have that intense gaze stroking all over her bare skin, seeing her in a way no one ever had? Would he touch her the way she touched herself? Could she endure it if he did?
Regina turned away from the mirror and retreated to the bath. Resting her head on the lip of the tub, she closed her eyes. Her right nipple still tingled from the pinch of her fingers, and that feeling in her quim had yet to abate—like a shadow of what David had stoked within her last night.
Keeping her eyes shut tight, she spread her knees until they touched the opposite sides of the tub. Embarrassment flooded her face and neck with heat, but she was alone, she was curious, and she had to know. Resting a hand on her belly, she took a deep breath and gathered what pitiful courage she possessed and allowed it to travel.
Her skin was smooth and soft beneath the water, a sharp juxtaposition to the abrasion of hairs at her groin. For a long while, she could only lie there with her palm cupping her mound, her breath coming in short rough spurts. Regina had never touched herself in any way that was not practical. If she wasn’t in the bath, her hands never strayed to those womanly bits, the ones she’d come to realize could produce enjoyable sensations. She had learned everything she knew about intercourse from her mother and her husband, and neither had told her anything about this. The heat of her felt different than the warmth of the water, the tender flesh within her seam unlike the skin anywhere else on her body.
Finally, she began to explore, tracing the opening of her sheath and the delicate folds … and then the tiny knot which created a burst of breathtaking sensation. She pressed the tip of her first finger against it, her belly clenching as the feeling became sharper. This was where David had touched her, where he had produced those limb-shaking tremors that rocked Regina to her core. The memory of him flooded her mind, and she mimicked the movements of his thumb, circling and pressing, learning herself. Her own touch was nothing like David’s, but it was enough to awaken those secret parts of herself. It was enough to make her pinch her lips around a soft whimper of delighted shock. Her legs became restless beneath the water, and her quim pulsed and throbbed as if with its own heartbeat.
Had her body been capable of this all along? Had she simply suffered for lack of knowledge and the callousness of a husband who hadn’t bothered to show her that copulation could be pleasurable for a woman?
Regina wrestled with sudden anger as she wondered whether Randolph been different with his mistresses. Her husband had drawn women like bees to flowers, and Regina never understood how any of them could willingly offer him their bodies. She knew firsthand what it was like to be subjected to his attentions. But perhaps she hadn’t been privy to the entire truth.
Releasing a frustrated huff, she withdrew her hand, leaving herself yearning and annoyed. Thoughts of Randolph’s perfidy had ruined the experience for her, making it difficult to hold fast to the memories that had prompted her explorations.
Regina took up a cake of soap and began scrubbing herself with rough, furious motions, jaw clenched so hard it ached. She had made herself into everything a wife should be—quiet and demure, modest and willing to please. It had not been enough. Lacking the patience to coax her into learning how to enjoy the marriage bed, Randolph had simply used her when no other woman was about, and then discarded her when he was finished.
By the time she finished washing and left the tub, Regina had worked herself into a state of determined resolution. Randolph’s death had opened a world of possibility to her, and thus far she had thought only of her financial freedom and the opportunity to have the child she wanted. But, what if there could be more? What if she could take delight in the conception of her babe, as David suggested? The assertion seemed preposterous at the time, but it now filled her with hope.
Regina had no delusions about a happy future with a man who cared about her, or lasting love. But, if she could experience passion and pleasure, why shouldn’t she seize that opportunity with both
hands?
Wrapped in a length of toweling, she marched to her dressing room to select a gown and send for her maid. She had an apology, as well as another proposition to make. She needed to do both before she lost her nerve.
David trudged toward home as the sun began its descent on the horizon, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Never in twenty-eight years had he imagined he might labor alongside his tenants, even knowing he was set to inherit a massive farm and estate. He’d been raised knowing there were men a gentleman could hire to do the work, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Before and after his journey to London, he had spent a great deal of time in the company of Mr. Stone—who introduced him to several of the men who had worked for his father. Their advice led to his decision to slaughter half his herd of sheep. They hadn’t enough feed in their stores to last them through winter, most of the enclosures were in shambles, and the sale of meat and wool would further fill his coffers and provide the money for other much-needed improvements.
Of course, since so many men were busy making important repairs on their homes, and others simply refused to labor until that work was done, they were short on manpower for the task. Stone’s offer to teach him how to shear, slaughter, and butcher sheep had been made in jest, and David’s reluctant agreement had taken the man by surprise. Never one to back down from a challenge, he threw himself into the task—and had only become sick at the sight and odors of animal innards only twice.
Taming of the Rake (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 4) Page 12