by Cheryl Howe
He was entirely too randy to be going so fast. In fact, if he had any tact he would delay his plans to take her in his study with broad daylight streaming through the windows and servants milling around behind the door. Just the thought made him want to explode. He had planned to be more sophisticated in his performance the second time with Astra.
And despite the anxiety she carried into the room, she now seemed to be just as aroused as he. He rocked against her and she angled her back to meet his teasing caress. He imagined if he reached beneath her skirt she would be wet, swollen and welcoming.
That is if he could reach beneath her skirt. She had so much flouncing and padding disguising her lithe figure, he doubted he could maneuver all the layers of material. James rotated his palm, grinding into Astra’s sweet flesh, his attention only hindered by layers of cloth. Her pleasured gasp urged James to be creative. Fortunately, James’s fantasy offered insight to his quickest way to get under Astra’s skirts.
“Would you sit on the desk for me?”
She stiffened.
“I need to touch your skin. Today is my fantasy or have you changed your mind?”
“No. I haven’t changed my mind.” She slid away from him, glanced at him over her shoulder, seductively he’d have to say, then sauntered over to the desk.
He walked quickly to the door, locked it, then strode to her side before she could reconsider. With gentle restraint, he slid his palm across her cheek, cupping the back of her head while he kissed her, infusing all the urgency from a moment ago. She clung to him, parting her mouth. He licked her lips and he wasn’t sure how their tongues entwined after that, only that he needed to take her swiftly.
He gripped her slight, corseted-waist and set her on the desk. The skirts he thought insurmountable, hardly registered annoyance when he slipped his arms under the hem to grip her stocking-covered knees, spreading them. He stepped between her legs, then reached for her and slid her to him, the silk of her skirt being very cooperative. Even through the material of his breeches, her wet heat seared him. Above the waist, she was quite secure. Below the waist she was naked, and waiting.
His penetrating kiss captured her shocked gasp at his swift maneuver.
***
Astra strained to listen for any sounds of movement outside the door before James’s kiss burned away the last of her common sense. James slipped his hands up to her thighs, finding her bare skin. In the light of last night’s events, she had ignored his request to wear less rigid undergarments, at least from the waist up. She knew she would have needed medieval armor to resist his sensual assault below her waist.
The restraints of her corset and stiff stomacher kept her back properly straight, a sharp contrast to her spread legs and raised skirt. James slipped a finger inside her and Astra braced her hands on the desk. Her need to rock against him was only intensified by her hampered state. The sensation proved wildly erotic, embodying all the wicked ecstasy Astra associated with being a mistress. Perhaps it was the anticipation after last night, or the carnal knowledge of how thoroughly James could pleasure her, but Astra’s lust surged with a force that left her mindless to everything but her own need.
James must have felt it too because he suddenly tore at the buttons on his breeches. “Hold up your skirts,” he said on a ragged breath.
She gathered the layers of material, compressing the fine silk at her waist and exposing herself to James’s hungry stare. He moistened his lips and she watched as he dropped to his knees. Astra jolted with the sensation of his mouth on her most sensitive flesh. Her fingers gripped the sides of the desk as she steadied herself. He used his tongue in ways she couldn’t have imagined, finding her sensitive button, sucking and nipping and stroking with his tongue until she thought she might die of sheer pleasure. Waves of liquid heat filled her as she realized she was lost to everything but the feel of his tongue on her. Growing slick and hot, she felt her face flush, then closed her eyes, praying he would never stop.
When she thought she could not stand another delicious moment, he pulled his mouth away from her and she looked down at him, taking in a sharp breath.
“You want this as badly as I do.” He flicked his blue gaze to hers, a cocky half-grin in contrast to his heated stare.
“More,” she said without thinking, but was rewarded with a flare in his eyes and the fall of his grin. He stood abruptly. His cock surged from his unfastened breeches and Astra hardly had time to catch her breath before he grabbed her thighs, yanked her to the edge of the desk.
“Oh, yes,” she said as he drove deep, lifting her so nothing would impede his motion. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him to keep from falling.
In her position, she could do little more than receive his powerful thrust. He filled her so completely that she shuddered at the fullness. He captured her mouth with his, kissing her with the same abandon that he took her body. An intense wave of pleasure seized Astra after only a few deep strokes. Astra moaned into James’s mouth as her body pulsed around him. She felt his body abruptly stiffened and he pulled his mouth from hers. Astra was aware he was gazing down at her as her release consumed her and she threw back her head in rapture, holding in the cry of pleasure she longed to let go.
“Damn,” he cursed then abruptly pulled out and away from her, setting her firmly on the desk.
She had to brace her hands on the black lacquered surface to keep her balance.
James’s bent shoulders jerked. He gasped hoarsely, his struggle not to moan aloud apparent. Astra gently touched his flushed face while he rode out the last tremors of his own orgasm.
“Perhaps if I make you come enough, I’ll get used to the feel of it.” He glanced up at her, still visibly trying to catch his breath. “You make me crazy when you do that.”
This time she had no need to question his pleasure in her finding her own. And suddenly she realized that never again would she doubt her power as a woman. Lying alone in her bed after the fire, yearning for James and second-guessing the choices she had made, she had not fully named the anxiety that had plagued her. Now that it was vanquished, she knew that she still had been holding onto an old fear that James would reject her after she’d given him all of herself.
She reached out to him, and he set aside a handkerchief she hadn’t noticed before and stepped into her arms. “Thank you,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.
“You can thank me tonight.” He pulled away and gazed into her eyes suspiciously, no doubt hearing the touch of emotion in her voice. “I hope to be able to hold out for more than a few minutes next time.”
Astra’s hazy contentment dissipated with his words. “I don’t think we should see each other tonight.”
“Are you sore?” James gently traced her lower lip with his thumb and wiped away moisture from her cheek, rearranged a stray wisp of hair that had come loose from her braid. “I should have taken a little more time, not attacked you like a crewman on a short leave.”
“No, after last night we must be more discreet.” And she could not have him in her bed on a regular basis. More than physical intimacy had passed between them in the dark. In the light of day their urgent coupling could be mistaken for nothing but a physical need. It would be best to keep it at that.
Instead of arguing, as she thought he might, he nodded thoughtfully. “I’m afraid you’re right.” He stepped back, brushed down her skirts and set her on her feet.
His serious tone sent Astra into a panic. “Does someone know?”
He shrugged but didn’t meet her gaze. “I think it best if we not create a pattern, that’s all. I’m going to speak to Wesley today about vacating his rooms. We’ll be closer then.”
“You are taking over Lowell’s apartment?” She pressed her hand to her chest. Oh, that would never do.
“Taking you on the desk was a novelty. I don’t intend to do it all the time. I want you in bed so we can take our time.”
Oh no, having him with her in the quiet of the night in her
own bed was far too dangerous for her heart. It would be tempting to fall in love with him then. Making love in Lowell’s former room was out of the question. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of their pact.
Astra walked to the window and tried to assess her appearance in the blurred reflection in the pane. “I think we should find a spare bedroom to meet. But not always at night and time is something we can’t take for granted. Lark might need me.”
Astra turned to find James gazing at her with a look of disappointment that tugged at her already bruised heart.
“I suspect I’m going to be more frustrated in having you in bits than not at all.” He brushed his fingers through his hair, dislodging the loose black tie that held it back.
“Ah, but then you won’t stop craving me.” She strode to his side and reached on her toes to place a closed-mouth kiss on his lips. Before he could deepen it, she pulled away.
“That’s not likely to happen anytime soon.” He gripped her shoulders and tried to kiss her again.
She twirled out of his reach. “Perhaps we can make an arrangement for later tonight.” Astra strode to the door. “But now I must discuss the menu for our ball with the cook. The guest list keeps multiplying.”
James groaned. He fumbled with his hair and clothes, looking just as rumpled and dashing as always. Really, it would be a shame for her to try to make him into a proper gentleman when he looked so handsome as the libertine American. Astra slipped past the door before she was tempted to help him with his attire.
“Thank you for your time, Lord Keane,” she said loudly from the hallway. “I shall see you at dinner.”
“My pleasure, Astra.” He remained standing were she had left him, clearly not enjoying her abrupt ending of their time together.
Astra closed the door, relishing being a fallen woman far more than she anticipated. The trick was, she told herself as she merrily strode down the hall, a pleasurable ache humming between her legs, was to keep James at arm’s length in regards to her personal life. Everything else was fair game.
***
James dashed down the winding staircase, anxious to be on their way to the Bainbridges for dinner. He’d sent Wesley on an errand to prevent him from riding in the carriage with him and Astra. They’d managed a few more stolen moments and midnight couplings since the day in the study, but every morsel left him wanting more. The gnawing hunger each rushed encounter brought reminded him of his sparse meals as a prisoner of war at Old Mill in Plymouth. The more ecstatic he was for the meager ration, the more he obsessed over the next one, anticipating it every second.
James slid to an abrupt halt when he reached the grand marble-tiled foyer. Astra was there, prompt as always, but she knelt in front of the very thing James had purposely avoided.
“But Nurse’s daughter has visited the maze and she swore she saw a fairy with lavender wings. I so want to see a fairy. I’ll stay outside in the garden while you are having your dinner party. No one will know I’m there. Please, Mama.”
Astra brushed a wisp of whitish-blond hair from her daughter’s face. James could only see the girl in profile, but she reminded him of one of the fairies she was so anxious to meet. “Lark, I will take you another time. I promise.”
“No, it must be today, Mama. Today!” The child jumped up and down in place to emphasize the urgency.
“Fairies only show themselves at night when the moon is full,” James said as he marched down the stairs. He would have to meet Astra’s daughter sometime. Though he and Lark had managed nicely to avoid crossing paths up until now, his intention to take up more and more of Astra’s time would force them to meet eventually. “We’ve a new moon tonight so you would be more likely to run into a troll.”
Astra slowly got to her feet and James registered the same dread on her face that no doubt showed on his when he’d stumbled upon them. “My lord, I didn’t realize you were so well versed in fanciful tales from the nursery.”
He stopped at an appropriate distance from mother and daughter, much farther than he would if Astra were alone. “I keep track of the tides. For sailing. The moon affects them. Habit, I guess.”
Lark openly studied him with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Astra squeezed the child’s shoulder. “Curtsy to Lord Keane, Lark.”
“There’s no need for that.” James tried to smile at the girl, but she remained on high alert. Surely his own guilty conscience was imagining things.
Lark glanced at her mother briefly before she turned to him and did as her mother asked. The child wore an adult-looking gown with a full skirt and several bows fashioned down the bodice. James noted that one of the bows had been torn and the yellow skirt held traces of grass stains. Lark’s braided hair sprouted a twig with leaves still attached.
James dropped to one knee to look Lark in the eye. “I suppose you are a professional fairy-hunter.”
“No. We don’t have any fairies here. Only spriggans. They steal babies and make people sick until they die. But I want a fairy to come live here instead so the spriggans will go away. Spriggans are afraid of fairies.”
James studied Lark’s sincere gaze and tried to think of something comforting to say. Her vibrant blue eyes shone against her golden skin, a contrast to her mother’s pale features. She reminded him of his younger sister as a child. And then it suddenly dawned on him that Lark might actually be his blood relative. His first cousin’s fatherless child. He had done a fair bit of thinking about it and although James had his suspicions about the timing of Lark’s birth, it wasn’t fact. What was fact, though, was that this child had more than enough family resemblance and looked like she could be his.
“Reverend Fitzgerald would frown if he heard you speak like that,” Astra’s scolding of her daughter dislodged his unwelcome realization. “He told you that you have nothing to fear from spriggans or any other mythical creature.”
Her mother’s words did nothing to erase the troubled furrow from Lark’s brow.
“I fear it will be dark by the time your mother and I arrive at Rosemound, but I’ll ask Mr. Bainbridge if he’s seen any fairies in his maze. Perhaps he’ll be kind enough to let us return on a dewy morning to search this hedge maze you are so interested in.”
Lark’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Let’s see…tomorrow?” James rubbed his chin. He’d not thought this out well. Did he really want to traipse through damp grass with a four-year-old first thing in the morning? “I fear I have an appointment tomorrow.”
“Lord Keane is far too occupied, Lark. He must spend a great deal of his time familiarizing himself with Eastlan.”
Lark assessed him again with a cynical look that James must have misinterpreted, for her adult expression certainly didn’t fit a child so young. “Maybe we can all find time to see the maze before the summer is over,” James said in his defense.
“Will you make us move from Eastlan before then, Lord Keane?” Lark tilted her head to the side as if she didn’t know what to make of him.
“Of course not, why would you say such a thing?” James stood and shook out a cramp in his thigh.
“Lark! That is rude. You are to show Lord Keane the utmost respect. You may speak only when addressed. How many times have I told you that.”
And the reason he’d yet to make little Lark’s acquaintance became abundantly clear. Lark grabbed a handful of her mother’s skirt and lowered her head. “Yes, Mama.” After a solemn pause, Lark glanced at James. “I’ll be good, Lord Keane. You won’t need to send us away. I won’t say anything to you if you don’t want.”
“Lark, where are you getting this nonsense?” Astra demanded.
“Nurse said the new lord will send us away and so did Uncle Wesley and so did you, Mama. I heard you.”
“I can settle this right now,” James interrupted. “I have no intentions of sending anyone away. Not even Mr. Rudd, who just might be a spriggan.”
Thankfully, Lark giggled. James dropped again to one knee and held out h
is hand to Lark. “And we will see about getting a resident fairy. What do you think?”
Lark stared at him a moment, glanced to her mother, then tentatively took his hand. “Don’t worry. Mr. Rudd isn’t a spriggan. They are smaller and have bigger heads.”
“Well that clears that up.” James stood. “We should be on our way.”
“I will meet you outside, Lord Keane. I’d like to say goodnight to Lark since we won’t return until after her bedtime.” Astra had both hands on her daughter’s shoulders, forcing her protectively into the folds of her skirt. James couldn’t help but notice that he was the thing she seemed to be protecting her daughter from.
“Of course.” He winked and bowed to Lark then strolled through the double-doors that always seemed to magically open at his approach. With James’s appearance on the stone landing, three footmen jerked to attention. Mr. Rudd strolled from behind a mahogany carriage emblazoned with gold cherubs, an oversized crest and quite a few decorative letter K’s. James vacillated between gaping at the polished mahogany carriage with all its frills, and a musket-toting Mr. Rudd in a white wig and gold trimmed livery.
“I believe I said I didn’t want an entourage.”
“Got rid of two of the groomsmen that were wet behind the ears. There’s usually six of ‘em.” Since Mr. Rudd had exchanged his position as valet for James’s personal guard, his eyes had brightened and his complexion had cleared. “I’ll be riding atop with the driver and Gordon over here will be in back. He’s an excellent shot.” The groom in question bowed and opened his coat to reveal two revolvers strapped to his hips.
“Thank you, Gordon, but keep those out of sight of Lady Keane,” said James. He supposed one should be armed in the event of highway robbers, but he knew that wasn’t the reason Rudd was treating their relatively short journey like a military campaign.