Rules of Refinement (The Marriage Maker)

by Tarah Scott

  Carrick placed soft kisses on her breasts, then her neck, then her mouth again. She drew in a shuddering breath. When he reached between them and brushed his fingers along the curls between her legs, she tensed. He kissed her again, gently and slipped a finger between her folds. Blood roared through his ears. She was so wet. He forced patience and slowly slid a finger inside her.

  Juliet stilled, and he hid a smile. The woman of the world was not quite prepared for the realities of a man stroking her pleasure point. With his thumb, he messaged her swollen nub as he slowly thrust a finger in and out of her channel. To his delight, she began to move her hips in rhythm with his strokes. By God, the woman was hot blooded. He licked her nipple.

  “Carrick,” she moaned.

  Hearing her call his name sent a wave of unexpected satisfaction through him. She began to move faster. He kept his rhythm even. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Moonlight splashed across her face, bathing her skin in an ethereal glow. His cock strained so hard against his skin he thought the damned member would break free and plunge inside her of its own accord.

  Juliet abruptly stiffened and cried out. Her channel milked his finger. Carrick yanked his finger from her channel, closed his mouth over her sex and sucked.

  “God have mercy,” she cried, and pulsed beneath his tongue as a second climax rolled over her.

  She drew a shuddered breath. Carrick pushed upright and quickly fitted his cock to her opening. Her tight opening closed around the sensitive crown. The need to drive into her nearly drove him out of his mind. He slid a hand beneath her buttocks and locked his gaze on her face. He couldn’t read her expression.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  She grasped his arm and said in a barely audible whisper, “Yes.”

  “This will hurt for only an instant,” he said, and thrust into her hilt deep.

  She stiffened. Carrick froze until Juliet released a breath and relaxed. He lowered his weight onto her, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair as he began to move inside her. He was ashamed to admit he wouldn’t last long with her magnificent heat wrapped so tightly around him. He tried to think about the accounts he would have to deal with first thing in the morning, but she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts and his climax rolled over him without warning. Intense pleasure ripped through him and, with a startled cry, he spilled his seed inside her.

  Heart racing, he continued to drive into her half a dozen times as he milked the last vestiges of pleasure from his member. At last, he collapsed onto her slender form for several heartbeats, then slid off her. He pulled her close.

  “I can do better, I promise. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll prove myself.”

  He felt her smile against his chest. She was laughing at him again. He really had to do something about that. He gently pushed her onto her back and looked at her with wonder.

  “You were incredible,” he whispered.

  He kissed her again, tenderly.

  The wind rustled through the open window, blowing her hair across his bare chest. He wanted to take her again, but knew her tender flesh needed to rest. He’d have to wait. Instead, he drew her further up into the pillows, and cradled her in his arms. She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes.

  His mistress. Aye, she was his mistress. At last.

  He lay on his back and closed his eyes, just for a moment.

  * * *

  Carrick awoke as the first rays of sun filtered through the window, his cock hard with the memory of last night and a new, strange need that coursed through him. He turned on his side, facing the slight form in the bed next to him and his heartbeat quickened. The sheet had slipped down the rise of her breasts and he glimpsed the edges of the soft pink areolas he’d tasted last night. Her hair, a sensuous tangle of thick locks, framed her face and lay across one full breast. His cock pulsed. He grinned. She was truly and fully his mistress.

  Juliet arched and stretched. He dropped a kiss to her throat, then added a soft series of kisses under the line of her jaw. She tensed, then relaxed under the ministrations of his tongue and moaned that same husky sound that had driven him wild last night. Shivers raced down his spine.

  “I need you.” He grasped her hand and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. “Now.”

  He gently thrust against her loose fist. To his surprise, she pulled away and pushed him flat on his back, his cock jutting up like a pillar of marble. Juliet lowered her lashes, then swung her slim leg over his hips and poised her entrance above his erection.

  “Ride me, lass.” He grasped her hips and tensed in readiness for her channel to sheath him.

  “So demanding,” Juliet teased as she took the tip of his throbbing manhood into her slim body.

  She tortured him. Horribly. Repeatedly sliding down an inch before lifting herself off until, at last, he could bear it no longer and he shoved her down onto his hard length as he thrust upward. She gasped and tossed her head back in delight. With her heat fully encasing him, he began to rock. They were meant for each other. He couldn’t control himself. Not with the way she moved. Within minutes, her lashes fluttered as she shuddered in ecstasy and he came with a loud groan, pumping himself into her until he’d milked his cock to the very last.

  When he finished, he lifted her off him and she lay her head on his chest as he traced the length of her spine with a fingertip.

  Neither spoke for a time. It wasn’t until the distant chime of the grandfather clock announced the breakfast hour that Juliet bolted upright. “Heavens! I’m late to fit your sister’s gown.”

  Amused, he watched her dive from the bed and dart to the armoire.

  “Don’t bother with the under drawers,” he said. “You won’t need them.”

  She snorted and stuffed her arms through her dress sleeves, then shimmied the dress down over lush breasts. His cock twitched. She would be spending an inordinate amount of time on her back with him between her legs.

  At the door, she paused and looked over her shoulder.

  “We’ll continue this later, lass.” He rose. Her eyes flicked to his erection before she turned and left.

  Carrick caught sight of her drawers on the floor. He grinned. It was going to be a good day.

  Chapter Eleven

  Blind Man’s Bluff

  NEVER IN HER WILDEST dreams had Juliet thought that bedding a man could be so…consuming. She could still feel the heat of Carrick’s body on hers and the warmth of his breath in her hair as he’d groaned her name.

  “What made you decide to become a dressmaker?” Catherine asked Juliet.

  Juliet started from her thoughts. She pushed the needle through the sky-blue velvet. She sat in the drawing room’s bay window as Catherine lounged on a nearby settee, perusing swatches of lace.

  “We must all do something. I like creating clothes and I am—I hope—skilled at it.”

  “Indeed, you are, my dear.” The dowager turned a page in the book she was reading.

  "I don't like sewing at all," Catherine said. "I know that's a terrible thing to say. Young ladies are supposed to like sewing. But I don't."

  "Well, fortunately, you don’t need to love it to be skilled at darning a pair of socks or repairing a hem," Juliet said.

  "You see there, Catherine, the dowager said, "Juliet understands that sewing is a skill that a lady must have."

  "I don't think that's what she said, Mama. She is only saying that just because I don't like it, doesn't mean I can't do it."

  Juliet hid a smile.

  "What else do you do besides sew?" Catherine said.

  "I read, of course. I paint a little, and I speak a little Latin and French."

  Catherine made a face. "Surely, you do other things that are much more fun than that?"

  "I like to read," Juliet said. “Have you found any lace you like yet?”

  She shrugged. "Carrick said you live in London. I adore London. When last we were there, Carrick took me riding in the park every day. Do you go riding in the pa
rk as well? Carrick has a wonderful phaeton. I wish that I could drive it, but he says ladies don't do such things."

  "He's quite right, of course," Juliet said, and she glimpsed the approving glance the dowager sent her way.

  Catherine must've seen it, as well, for she said, "You're only agreeing because Mama is here. But I think you know that a lady is just as capable of driving a phaeton as a man is."

  "One must be very skilled to drive any kind of carriage," Juliet said in all seriousness.

  "I feel certain I could learn," Catherine said, but Juliet knew better than to say yay or nae.

  "Where in London do you live?" Catherine asked. "We will have to visit you when next we are there. Isn't that right, Mama?"

  "Indeed, it is," the dowager agreed.

  Juliet's pulse quickened, but she had practiced a thousand times what she would say to the first person who asked her address in London, and she rattled off the address of the home of Bonnie Macmillan's milliner shop, which she would rent when she returned to London.

  "I'm so glad we were able to come to Lennexlove House to be with you,” Catherine said.

  Juliet smiled. “I am glad, too.”

  "It was fortunate we hadn’t yet left for London when Carrick told us he was bringing you."

  Juliet looked at her sharply. They weren't in Lennexlove House when Carrick said he would bring her here? She had assumed they were already in residence. It had to mean he’d planned on bringing her here alone, and had only brought them later when he’d realized she expected them there.

  Suddenly, Juliet felt the dowager’s eyes on her. Her fingers trembled. Did the woman suspect what had happened between her and Carrick last night? She would not be pleased. She might even demand Carrick send her away. Strangely, though she’d wanted to be sent away, the idea of leaving now depressed her.

  A knock on the door made Juliet jump, and a maid entered and curtsied, but to Juliet’s surprise, the maid faced her instead of the dowager.

  “His Grace wishes to see you in the library,” the maid announced. “At once.”

  Juliet felt her face flush. “Are you certain?” she asked in a steady voice.

  “Aye, Miss,” the maid replied. “He came looking for ye in the kitchen. Mrs. Allenby sent me to find you.”

  Juliet’s heart thundered. How could she explain his summons? She didn’t dare look at the dowager.

  “I imagine he received the bill for the fabrics we ordered,” Catherine said with a laugh.

  Juliet could have kissed her. She wasn’t certain it would be the dressmaker the master of the house would take to task for overspending on fabric, but the excuse was far better than the blank stare she knew she wore.

  “Perhaps I overdid it,” she murmured as she rose to her feet, keenly aware of the dowager’s sharp eyes latching onto her. “Put the swatch you like best here.” Juliet patted her sewing basket, smoothed her skirts, then left the room.

  She hurried down the hallway. She would have his hide for this. What had gotten into him, summoning her like…like she was his mistress?

  Juliet arrived to find the library door ajar and peeked inside. It was an impressive room, painted a warm shade of yellow. Its windows overlooked the sprawling lawn and gardens. Tall, rosewood bookcases lined the walls and the smell of wood polish and leather permeated the air. Juliet eased the door open and caught sight of Carrick at his desk, penning a letter. Her breath caught. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead. He glanced up and a smile lit his face.

  “You sent for me?” Juliet entered and closed the door behind her as he set down his pen and leaned back in his chair.

  He lifted an eyebrow and she knew he was wondering why she’d closed the door. Let him wonder. She took three paces to his desk then stopped. “Have you lost your mind, Carrick?”

  He blinked.

  “I was with your mother and sister when the maid arrived to inform me that you’d summoned me.”

  His eyes widened slightly, then he gave a lopsided grin that caused her stomach to flip. “I didn’t find you in the sewing room or the kitchen and assumed you were avoiding me.” He shrugged. “I decided one of the maids would have better luck finding you.”

  Juliet stared. He looked so contrite and so…so damnably attractive that she suddenly wondered how she was going to escape this—him—unscathed. She wasn’t, she realized. She’d already lost the bet. He owned her for the next year. How long could she continue as the dowager’s dressmaker before the older woman figured out the truth?

  His eyes darkened and suddenly his mother, their bet, nothing else mattered. “Come closer, my dear. You know where you belong.”

  “Where do I belong?” she whispered.

  He smiled. “In my arms.”

  Her pulse quickened. Juliet stepped around the desk, but stopped beyond reach. He leaned forward, seized her arm, and tugged her into his lap. She shrieked. He laughed and hugged her close while she twisted in a halfhearted attempt at freedom. Her hip bumped his hard length and she froze.

  “Good Lord, Carrick. I’m surprised you have any energy left after last night.”

  He laughed and hugged her tighter. “I told you I would have many wonderful surprises for you.”

  Her heart began to pound, and she realized she wanted him so badly it hurt. Juliet pushed away from him and he released her as she slid from his lap. With a quick twitch of her skirt, she knelt before him. His gaze sharpened when she reached for the buttons on his breeches and slowly unfastened them. Her fingers brushed the bulge straining against the constraints and he sucked in a startled breath. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks when her fingers trembled slightly as she freed the last button. His erection spring free and his shirt tented. She pushed aside the shirt and heat rushed through her at sight of his rigid manhood. She raised her gown to her thighs and straddled his thighs.

  He closed his eyes and took a long, luxurious breath as she slowly slid down onto his hard length. With a sigh of pleasure, she dropped her gown, the silk making a soft swish as it covered them both.

  He skimmed his fingers lightly over her arms and tugged her bodice until her breasts spilled over the neckline. Eager to feel his mouth on her flesh, she arched forward and pulled his face toward her. He sucked a nipple into his mouth.

  She shivered. “Carrick,” she whispered.

  Slowly, she lifted off him, then lowered until he filled her. She rose, and he thrust to meet her downward motion. Pain and pleasure spiked. Juliet braced her hands on his shoulders, steadying her torso so that he could continue to suck her breasts as she rode him. He grasped her hips and brought her down hard. Her breath caught. The man knew how to please a woman.

  He increased their rhythm and suckled her other breast. Pleasure built inside her core. Her nipple slipped from his mouth and his grasp on her hips tightened as she slammed down on him. His jaw tensed. A wave of gratification rolled over her. She pleased him. Her climax caught her off guard. Juliet threw her head back and arched. He rammed his cock deeper. She cried out and light flashed behind her eyes. It seemed the world spun around her. Her body went weak as a kitten.

  Juliet was vaguely aware of his groan as he ground himself against her sex. She’d seen the girls in her mother’s brothel backed against walls while their customers pumped into them, had heard more stories than she could remember of the mechanics of the joining of a man and woman. But she’d never heard the girls speak of this sort of…magic. Is that what it was, magic?

  Juliet collapsed onto his chest and listened to the powerful thump of his heart until its rhythm slowed.

  Carrick buried his face in her hair. “I can’t get enough of you.” He nuzzled her neck. “Come to my bed. Let’s spend the day there.”

  Juliet snorted and reluctantly straightened. “You know very well I have gowns to sew.”

  “As if my mother and sister don’t have enough of the blasted things.” He ran his hands over her breasts and tweaked her nipp
les.

  She shivered.

  “Come to my bed,” he repeated.

  Juliet pulled her sleeves back over her shoulders and slid off his lap. He tucked his shirt back in his pants, then fastened his pants and released a long breath.

  “I imagine your mother and sister are still in the drawing room where I left them.” A thread of panic wound through her. “Lord, the dowager will wonder why I took so long.”

  He grasped her hand and his expression sobered. “I will deal with my mother.”

  The panic intensified. “Carrick, she can’t know—”

  A knock sounded at the door. “Carrick,” his mother called.

  Juliet yanked her gaze onto the door. Dear God, if the dowager saw her before she has a chance to smooth every hair back into place.

  The door knob started to turn, and Juliet dropped to her knees.

  “What the—” Carrick began, but she scurried under his desk as the door opened. She pulled her knees to her chest. He turned, and she was forced sideways against the wood when his knees nearly struck her shoulder. He shifted, and Juliet realized he was looking up from his desk. His arms rested on the desktop. Dear God, she hoped his expression gave away nothing of the fact that his mistress was hiding there.

  “I thought I would find Juliet here,” the dowager’s voice came from the direction of the door.

  Juliet jammed her eyes closed and silently prayed, Please, please, please, do not come in.

  “You missed her,” he replied.

  The door creaked, and Juliet’s heart thundered. Was the dowager entering the room and closing the door behind her or had she left?

  “I am busy, Mother,” Carrick said, and Juliet’s heart fell. The dowager hadn’t left

  “I have planned another dinner for tonight,” she said.

  “I believe you told me that.” His right arm shifted slightly, and Juliet thought he might be writing as he had been when she arrived.

  “Catherine and I will be spending the autumn and winter in Edinburgh.”

  “That is your habit,” he replied distractedly.

  “Lady Audrey is very nice, don’t you agree?” The dowager’s voice was closer. Silk rustled, and Juliet realized she was sitting in the chair opposite Carrick’s desk.