Improper Pleasures (The Pleasure Series)

by Cheryl Howe

  James glanced at Astra, his gaze brilliant, his face flushed. She forced herself to smile in return though she felt anything but jubilant. Astra’s warning to James about developing a friendship with her daughter returned in a most unpleasant way. Clearly James’s future was not a “we” but a singular pronoun. Either James would sail away on the ship he apparently had at the ready, or worse, he would take Mr. Bainbridge up on his offer. Or offers, she should say. And would not that absolve their initial agreement? With Mr. Bainbridge’s assistance, James could afford her inheritance and she could live out her life in comfortable splendor.

  Perhaps she had mistaken everything. And worse yet, she was not sure she could hold James back from what was in his best interest. No longer could she deny that she had most definitely and desperately fallen in love with James Keane. The gnawing in her stomach at a mere glance at him across the room refused to be ignored.

  ***

  Back at Eastlan, James sat on the marble steps that led to the garden and sucked on the cigar Bainbridge had given him to take home and marveled at his good fortune. The smoke wafting around his head instantly brought him back to his life at sea where the scent typically mingled with the smells of exotic foreign cargo and, best of all, freedom. A moonless night left Eastlan’s grounds in a blanket of darkness. Gray clouds blocked out all but a few valiant stars. A chorus of frogs called from the distant pond. He’d not expected to like the English countryside so much. Still, knowing that this leg of his journey was only temporary, another port in many, didn’t give him the rush it usually did.

  “What are you doing out here? There’s a chill in the air.” Astra’s voice had him turning abruptly with a jolt of excitement. He hadn’t expected her at all.

  “I used to smoke these when in port.” He lifted the cigar in explanation though he was sure she smelled it the moment she stepped outside. “I’ve missed them.” James turned and smiled at Astra, pleased beyond reason that she had sought him out.

  Her frown was clearly visible in the weak starlight.

  “I won’t smoke them inside. Promise.” He held the cigar downwind, hoping it would blow into the garden. Her tight features didn’t relax in the least.

  “Do as you please, James. It is your home.” She stiffened and clasped her hands protectively in front of her.

  James decided to ignore the quiet hostility in her words until he could decipher what he’d done exactly to deserve it. After his misstep with Lark, he was sure he’d said something thoughtless during the long day. Wesley had returned with them in the carriage so they’d yet to have a chance to speak privately. “Did you persuade Lark to go back to sleep?”

  “I blew out the candle, but I suspect she’s still awake.” Astra sighed loudly. “I must check on her later to make sure she doesn’t slip from her room and try to find her way to Rosemound on her own.”

  “Are you still angry with me?” James snubbed out the cigar, suspecting her need to check on Lark again more of a ploy to avoid him. Though he accepted her silence in the carriage as exhaustion, he no longer could bear it. He stood and faced her.

  She shrugged but the gesture appeared anything but casual. “I was never angry with you, James.”

  “But you didn’t enjoy yourself this evening. Are the Bainbridges so beneath you?”

  Even in the darkness, he could see her recoil at his words. She blinked as if she held back tears, forcing James to feel like a cad for directing his sudden burst of frustration onto her. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him.

  She tried to push from his embrace but he held her tight. “Someone might see us.”

  Keeping her close to his side, he guided her into a dark corner of the patio. Most of the candles in the house had been extinguished. Instead of resisting, she leaned into him. He felt her shiver.

  “Are you cold?” Without waiting for her answer, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. He positioned her with her back against the railing, his body pressed against hers, providing enough warmth for the both of them. His face hovered above hers. She stared up at him and even in the shadowed light, he could see the intensity in her gaze. He intended to tell her he had no interest in the Bainbridge girls but stopped himself. Did he really have no interest in such a logical match? As soon as the question formed in his mind, the idea that to have everything he ever wanted he would have to give up Astra was suddenly unthinkable. Instead, he lowered his head and kissed her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her lips to welcome his kiss. A hunger James had not expected surged inside him. He crushed her to him and deepened the kiss, possessing her with his tongue. He was instantly hard. He needed her. Wanted her. Now.

  He cupped the back of her neck, caressing the bare skin there. “Come to my room.”

  She turned her face away from his, catching her breath. “So, you are considering Bainbridge’s offer?”

  “I wouldn’t call it that.” That she instantly knew what lay behind his desperate lust disturbed him. He tried to kiss her again, erase both their reason to think, but she put her hand on his chest and tried to push him away.

  “You enjoyed yourself tonight, did you not? More than you ever have here.”

  “That’s not true and you know it,” he whispered near her ear, using his breath to caress her neck.

  “His daughters’ are lovely. You fit in well with the family.” Her voice held a cold detachment that sobered James as good as a slap.

  “I hardly know them.” James straightened. “But yes, I enjoyed being able to act freely without correction or instruction.”

  “I have a right to know, James,” she said, meeting the sudden anger in his voice with her own. “If you recall, part of our agreement involved your pursuit of other women.”

  “I’m not pursuing anyone, but I would be a fool not to continue my friendship with Mr. Bainbridge. I think we could help each other in many ways.”

  “Oh yes, you are just what Mr. Bainbridge has been dreaming of. A desperate aristocrat that likes to play loud parlor games,” she said heatedly.

  “Perhaps that’s how you see me, but I happen to know quite a lot about the shipping industry. I think I’d make Bainbridge an excellent associate.” James squared his shoulders, wanting to make her see him as more than just some unaccomplished fool who had stumbled into a barony.

  “And an even better son-in-law.” She folded her arms over her chest, trying to block him out though he towered over her.

  James braced his hands on the railing on either side of Astra. “I thought our priority was Eastlan’s recovery. Which, by the way, is what will provide your inheritance, not to mention your daughter’s dowry.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Her trembling become more noticeable and he realized her state had nothing to do with the night’s chill.

  James touched her chin and forced her to face him. “This—our relationship—is more difficult for you than you anticipated.”

  “Yes.” She met his gaze and he saw her unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I fear you meet my needs far more expertly than I have met yours.”

  “Another patent untruth.” James rested his hand on the side of Astra’s neck and caressed his thumb against its smooth curve. He dropped his gaze to the luminescence of her lightly powdered breasts that rose and fell above the snug fit of her bodice. All he wanted to do was to take Astra to his bed and make love to her until they both forgot their circumstances and, more importantly, the future. “For the record, I have no intention of agreeing to a betrothal anytime soon.”

  “It is torture for me to sit across the room from you, while other women vie for your attention.” Her voice had lowered and she leaned against his caresses like a cat that wanted to be rubbed. He lowered his hand and covered her breast.

  “Not that you didn’t have your faithful lapdog, Wesley, to attend you.” Neither their argument nor the damp night air cooled his surging lust. If anything, their spat only enflamed him furthe
r. He’d not say another damn thing to turn her against him. He wasn’t even close to ready to end their arrangement.

  James braced his hands on the stone railing and pressed into Astra. “Wrap your hands around my neck. Tightly,” he whispered near her ear. She did and he gripped her waist, lifting her onto the railing’s ledge. His coat slipped to the ground below.

  “James!” Her outrage was laced with pleasure.

  They were nose to nose, and Astra had to part her legs to make room for his body. He positioned her so she had to cling to him or tumble over the rail along with the garment.

  “I wanted to touch you, you know. When you were sitting across the room, composed and regal. You could have joined the game.”

  “I didn’t know how.” She kissed his neck, hiding her face.

  “Ah yes, you were an only child.” Her confession slipped a hook into James’s heart that he didn’t need or want. He stroked her hair, encouraging the little kisses she’d drifted up to the raging pulse point below his jaw. “But surely you must have had the chance to play with other children?”

  “Yes, there were other children about but I was always the reserved one.” She punctuated her words with more soft kisses. “My mother was always so outlandish, I suppose I felt that I must be composed lest something awful happen.”

  James slipped his hands beneath her skirts, and gripped the back of her knees. “How about doing something outlandish right now? Something awful won’t happen. In fact, I anticipate just the opposite.”

  “I should check on Lark,” she said, but her voice was breathless, unsure.

  “We can be quick.” He captured her mouth with his before she could speak again.

  She clung to his neck, returning his kiss with a hunger that matched the one that had been gnawing at James since he had caught his first glimpse of Astra. A hunger that refused to be reasonable. He moved his hands to her thighs, spreading them while caressing her soft skin with his thumbs, readjusting her balance. The railing wasn’t the perfect height for what James had in mind but the less-than-ideal setting only fueled his determination and imagination.

  He slipped his thumb up to the sensitive spot in the folds of her woman’s flesh. Her shivering intake of breath at his first light press was more encouragement than he needed.

  “Lower your gown for me. I want to see your breasts. I have you,” he said in a husky voice.

  He gazed down at her with focused intensity until she let loose one of her arms to yank at the front of her low cut gown. Her small firm breasts were freed from their tight binding. Her swollen nipples showed a deep red in the darkness. The dress’s loosened support thrust her breasts up so he only had to lower his head slightly to take one into his mouth. She clutched his head to her, her fingers tangled in his hair.

  Her heat and moisture coated her thighs, forcing him to readjust his hot grip. He braced her on the railing so he could see if she were as hot and wet as he suspected. He slid a finger insider her, then two. Her moan and the grip of her inner muscles nearly drove him over the edge. His breeches were so damn tight he was sure he had already pulled a seam. He’d never been so driven by his own lust, so hungry.

  “I’m taking you here. Now,” he said roughly, quickly unfastening his breeches before she objected.

  She tightened her grip around his neck which he took as consent. Her hot breath, damp and heavy near his ear, fueled his heightened senses. He eased her off the railing and onto his fiercely erect cock. She gasped but had nothing to hold onto but him and he took full advantage of her vulnerability. He buried himself to the hilt in her slick, warm body. He pulled out and thrust again, harder, more desperate. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her bottom as he mindlessly drove into her. Her back was pressed against the railing, providing little support for her but giving him more leverage, pushing him more forcefully against her.

  Too soon he was on the verge of spilling himself inside her, and he didn’t care. A quick intake of breath, followed by a feminine moan, exploded in his ear. She stiffened and began to pulse around him.

  Either practiced behavior or a sliver of reason forced James to abruptly withdraw, his release splattering the paleness of her thighs, the folds of her fashionable silk dress. Carefully, he lowered her to her feet, not sure he could still hold her with the hard spasms racking his body.

  A window slammed from above cutting through the quiet of the night and his own heavy breathing. They both startled. James yanked his breeches up and quickly fastened them while Astra attempted to straighten her gown. Another quick survey of their surroundings satisfied James that the ledge above and the hidden corner shielded them from view.

  “We’re safe.” James brushed a loose tendril of Astra’s hair from her face. “I don’t know what came over me.” Though he did. It was uncontrollable lust. The kind that had persuaded him once or twice to seek out the first available port town whore after he’d been at sea for months on end. But his appetite had been satisfied way too recently and regularly to be so ravenous. Nor was Astra a back alley doxy.

  Her continued silence unnerved him.

  “I’ll buy you a new gown,” he blurted, but the quick look of hurt he saw in her glance told him it was the wrong thing to say. It emphasized exactly what they had been arguing about. She was his mistress, something to be tossed away when she was no longer useful. He never thought of their relationship as completely meaningless, and he didn’t want her to either.

  “I must change and see to Lark. Hopefully she will be asleep.” Astra brushed wrinkles from the folds of her skirt.

  James grabbed her hands, stilled them. He pressed kisses to her knuckles. “You, uh, you didn’t hate it, did you?”

  “No, James. I didn’t hate it and you know it.”

  He grinned remembering her wetness, her release. Oh, no, she liked the wildly abandoned, purely physical melding of their bodies as much as he. Still, she didn’t return his smile. “It was outlandish, was it not?” He mimicked her proper accent with affection.

  “Everything about our relationship is outlandish, James.” She sighed deeply again and gave him a small smile, but he’d come to recognize the resigned sadness beneath it.

  “Do you want to end it, then? “His words were a bluff. If she said yes, he would cajole, seduce or do whatever he had to do to convince her otherwise. Anything but lie, that is.

  “No,” she said, softly. He gripped her shoulders, gazed into her eyes.

  “Astra, you are the only woman in my life, in my thoughts—” James stopped himself from saying in his heart. Not that it wasn’t true, but he wasn’t ready to make that kind of statement, nor back it up in deed. These days, he truly didn’t know what he wanted. His life had been turned upside down at every turn. An American patriot ending up an English baron had been disorienting enough. He wanted to hate the twist of fate by principle alone, but Astra made that impossible. “If that changes, you will be the first to know.”

  “Thank you. I’m sorry we fought and for the unfair things I said. You are an honorable man, James. You have treated your predecessor’s widow with more care than many in your position would.” She touched his cheek briefly, then dropped her hand as if the contact burned her. “I really must go. Lark has sorely vexed her nanny this evening and I fear the woman’s patience has been tried.” After a half-hearted smile, Astra rushed into the house.

  James stopped himself from going after her, promising her things he could not. Or at the very least, dispute her statement about his honor.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Astra strode around to the back of Ivy’s house, not the least bit shocked by her own audacity. She could add trespassing to a list of growing indiscretions. A quick survey of the gardens where she and Ivy had shared tea proved unrewarding. Very well. Astra would just look in all the windows until she found her friend.

  Ivy’s face suddenly appeared behind a fogged glass pane. Draped in a ruby nightgown, her artfully arranged features seemed drained of their usual joi de vive.
Her pallor waned as she stared out into her backyard with unseeing eyes. Astra paused, suddenly realizing that Ivy’s butler might have had a valid reason for turning her away at the front door. Before Astra could retrace her steps and leave Ivy to her requested privacy, Ivy’s eyes widened and color returned to her bloodless lips. Astra straightened and waved.

  Ivy did not wave back, but an unguarded smile tugged at her mouth before the drapes fell back in place. A moment later a door Astra had mistaken for another of the many windows lining the back of Ivy’s manor house opened. “And to what do I owe this pleasure, Lady Keane?” Though Ivy’s words were formal, her tone was playful. She was barefoot after all.

  “I came to persuade you to change your mind about attending our ball.”

  Astra reached into her matching silk bag and pulled out the short note from Ivy.

  Ivy sagged slightly and wrapped her exposed arms across her chest. Her uncombed hair fell around her shoulders, her toes curled beneath the hem of her silk nightgown. Though it was nearly ten o’clock, Ivy had apparently just risen.

  “Astra, don’t dally on the wet grass. You’ll ruin your slippers. Come inside.” Ivy turned and disappeared through the door.

  Astra lifted her gown and quickly followed, noting that not only were her slippers damp, but the hem of her gown showed a dark stain. A flush crept to Astra’s cheek as she recalled another stained gown stuffed at the bottom of her wardrobe. She had spent a sleepless night contemplating what had occurred between she and James the night before. Never had she felt more like his mistress. He was aggressive, determined and unrestrained. Unfortunately, the heated encounter still left Astra wet and wanting more every time she thought of the scandalous, open-air coupling. How could she have ruined herself so thoroughly so quickly?

  Darkness enveloped her the moment she passed through the shuttered French door. She blinked to find Ivy sitting on a large four poster bed awash in deep plum hangings. A bank of rose-hued pillows propped Ivy up while she sipped from a tea cup.