"Alex," she whispered, not sure if she was angry or grateful, if she was pleading for him to have mercy or to continue his torment. All she could hear was the sultry quality in her own voice, a tone that was echoed as Alex replied to her.
"Isn't this what you wanted, mignonne?" he said, the words slightly mocking and harsh with desire. "You have teased and tormented me, invaded my dreams, kept me from sleep, insinuated yourself into my every thought. Wasn't it so that I would touch you like this?" He pinched the delicate flesh he toyed with through the fine fabric of her dress, making her cry out, a soft startled sound, torn between pleasure and pain, and she had to catch herself, suddenly terrified that someone had heard. "Admit it," he demanded. "Tell me you want this."
"Yes," she replied, the word exhaled on a shaky breath. She was trembling now, every breath, every nerve, every taut inch of flesh aware of his touch, desperate for more. "I want this, I want you."
She heard the fierce exhale, felt his hand grip her neck with more force. "Well now you'll pay for those months of torture, now you will understand how I have felt all this time. Aching to be in your presence and unable to touch you when I was. Longing to come to you when you were so far away from me and flirting with other men, smiling for them, making them want you." She heard the thread of anger in his voice, but under that the longing and desire made her heart lift. She turned her head, searching for the bright glint in his eyes, visible even in the secluded darkness that surrounded them. The noise of the theatre, the reactions of the crowd, the voices of the actors and the tremendous roar of the storm that had been created within the walls of the place, all of it seemed far away and insignificant. There was nothing and no one but the two of them.
"Do you think I didn't feel the same way, Alex?" she said in wonder. "Do you 'ave any idea 'ow hard it was to sleep in the same bed with you, knowing you didn't want me."
"Didn't want you?" he repeated, his voice ragged. He pressed his face into her hair and inhaled the scent of her. "Oh, God, Céleste if it were possible to die of desire I would have."
She felt her breath catch as he moved back to look at her, the heat in his eyes enough to scald her. He looked as desperate as he sounded, the usually cold eyes full of fire and dark with wanting.
"I suffered too, Alex, and far worse, for it was you who enforced it on me. It was your choice not mine."
"I wanted more for you, Céleste, I wanted a better man for you and more than I can offer you," he paused, shaking his head. "We will speak of all of this later. There is much I would say but not here, and not now."
She felt the pain in her heart as he confirmed everything she had come to realise in the past hours, but forced herself to laugh at him, outraged and amused. "So you can seduce me 'ere but not talk to me, hein?"
"Yes, ma mie," he growled, returning to nuzzle at her neck. "No one can see us and Dorothea sleeps like the dead. Besides, don't tell me this doesn't appeal to your sense of adventure, you little minx."
She smiled, a slow curving smile as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.
"You think you know what I like then?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said, and then bit her neck, just enough to make her gasp. "I think I do." Her breath caught as he tugged at one side of the low neck of her dress, just enough to reveal the ruched flesh of her tortured nipple. Reaching out he palmed her breast, caressing with his rough, calloused hand.
Almost dizzy with desire, Céleste was beyond the last thread of sanity. If he suggested taking her to the floor, right at this moment, she was very afraid she might be far gone enough to comply. She clamped her thighs together, trying to appease the frustrated aching that was impossible to ignore and finding her temper fraying at the male chuckle of amusement that fluttered over her skin. Furiously she thought every obscene word she could at him. Of all the places to begin his seduction! If he'd come to her room or waited until they were home she could have forced him to sooth her shattered nerves, to rid her of the all-consuming need that was as delicious as it was maddening. She gritted her teeth. Well, she thought, two can play at that game.
"I think, perhaps ..." she said, struggling for breath as he continued to stroke and caress her breast. "That I should give you some ... clues. In case you are wrong about that, and I did once see, at Madame Maxime's ... one of the girls ... She was laid out on a table, as though she was the dessert." His hand stilled at her breast and tension sang along the strong length of his thigh as Céleste ran her fingers up his leg. "And there was this gentleman, seated at the table and his head was bent, between her thighs ..." She paused, fighting for breath as the air seemed to crackle between them. His breathing had changed, as harsh and as laboured as her own. "He was feasting on her, and she was writhing and moaning with pleasure ..."
"Céleste," he said, his voice desperate.
"I 'ave often thought of it," she continued, her voice soft and breathless in the dark.
"Céleste, please ... don't ..."
"I have often thought about your mouth on me like this ..."
"Oh God."
"I 'ave thought about looking down and seeing your dark 'ead between my legs as you tasted me like this."
"Stop!" he pleaded, sinking his fingers into the coils of hair at the back of her neck and pulling with some force. "For the love of God stop or so help me I'll take you here and now and it will be the scandal of the century."
The two of them sat, in the darkness, their breathing out of control, their eyes intent on each other. "Swear you'll show me what I've been dreaming of when we get home and I'll be quiet," she whispered.
"Try and stop me," he growled.
Céleste bit her lip, trying to hold back her laughter as the ridiculousness of the situation caught her.
"Don't laugh, you little she-devil," Alex muttered, pulling her dress back up with sharp efficient movements. But the crosser he seemed the funnier it became. She covered her mouth to try and keep it in, but the more he glared at her the more difficult it was to suppress.
"Oh ... and poor Aunt Dotty," she gasped. "She would never 'ave recovered."
Alex's mouth twitched as he sat back, as far away from her as he could manage. "I believe I have previously mentioned to you ... your conversation is inappropriate for a young lady. I sent you away to deal with that," he grumbled, folding his arms, though she could see the amusement lurking in his eyes. "And stop looking at me like that, ma mie," he added, keeping his eyes resolutely on the stage. "It's taking every ounce of self control I have to keep sitting here and not throw you over my shoulder and make off with you."
Céleste sighed, feeling at once warm and tense, happy and on edge with repressed desire.
"I'll be good, Alex," she said, with great solemnity.
"Hmph." He kept his eyes forward, his arms crossed and the tight-fitting material strained over the width of his biceps. "Oh, and by the way. You are going to be unwell during the interval and it will be necessary for us to go home. Immediately."
He cast a quick glance at her before returning his fierce countenance to the performance. "Oui, Alex," she said, smiling in the darkness.
Chapter 28
"Wherein lovers come so very close ..."
Alex endured the rest of the damned performance, got Dorothea and Céleste into the carriage, and then had the torment of being jolted through the dark streets with Céleste's amused blue gaze on him. He was in agony. His skin felt too tight for his body, the nerves stretched to breaking and every rub of cloth against his flesh was an acute ache that was driving him to insanity. That the source of that torment was just scant inches away from him was beyond unbearable. He didn't dare consider the retribution he was going to mete out to her either, as satisfying as it would be, for fear he would be unable to leave the blasted carriage. So he sat and he endured.
Finally the carriage rolled to a halt. With every scrap of patience remaining to him he helped the ladies down from the coach and helped Aunt Dotty inside, managing to paste a smile on his face an
d make appropriate noises as she chattered merrily about some old friend she had happened upon the day before and hadn't seen for years. By the time she finally bid him goodnight he was almost ready to weep with frustration.
He turned to Céleste and raised an outraged eyebrow at her when he saw she was about to ascend the stairs.
"Where the devil do you think you're going?" he said, catching hold of her wrist and aware that his voice was too harsh, too desperate.
She just smiled at him, her blue eyes wide and guileless. "Just to freshen up, Alex, don't look so worried," she said, clearly laughing at him. "I'll be back before you know it."
"Well if you're not, be warned, I'll be coming to fetch you," he grumbled. Dammit he'd waited for over a year, why was fate conspiring against him now? He dismissed the remaining staff, sending them all to bed, stalked to his office and reached for the decanter of brandy.
Pouring a small measure he downed it in one go, taking a moment to savour the burn before pouring another, larger amount and settling himself down to wait. A bare moment later he was on his feet and pacing. God where was she? Didn't she know what she was doing to him? With a snort of amusement he realised she was probably well aware and doing it on purpose.
He took a deep breath and tried to arrange his tangled thoughts beyond the basic fact of his physical need for her. Somehow, since the day The Bold Bessie had been torn apart in that dreadful storm, Céleste had become necessary to him. It wasn't just that he wanted her, that he wanted to taste her and touch her and lose himself in her. He wanted to know her, to know everything about her. He wanted to know what she thought, what she wanted, what she hoped for. He had thought at first that it was nothing more than desire, as she was simply the most beautiful woman he had ever known. But he couldn't deny now, that it was so much more than that.
She was as much a requirement to his well being as the air he breathed. He needed her the same way he needed water to simply exist, the feeling far more intense than any desire he had ever experienced. The word caught in his throat and made his chest tight but he didn't shy away from it. Love, he loved her. Good Lord, he would probably earn his place in hell if there wasn't a chair with his name on already, but he was going to have her. He would marry her and take her home to Tregothnan and spend the rest of his days making sure she never had cause to regret the decision. Though how she wouldn't in another twenty years or so when she was just forty and he pushing sixty. He grimaced and shook his head. That was a problem for the future and he had become selfish enough to disregard it. Maybe by then she would have grown tired of him and taken a lover ... His mind shied away from the thought. She wanted him now, and now was all he could consider.
The soft sound of the door opening caught his ear but he kept his back turned, trying to calm the disarray of his emotions. He didn't want her to see his desperate need for her. She deserved the sophisticated and accomplished lover she believed him to be, not some love sick fool who wanted to fall to his knees and make her promise to always love him, even when he was old and grey. But when he finally felt composed enough to turn towards her, any veneer of calm was stripped from him in the moment between one heartbeat and the next.
She had taken her hair out of the pins that had held it in place and it cascaded down her shoulders. Glimmering deep gold and a light, bright blond that put him in mind of ripe corn, it tumbled in heavy coils, almost, but not quite covering her breasts; and there was little else to keep his heated gaze from them. She was wearing a gauzy nightgown, the material of which was all but transparent and left little to the imagination. A delicate triangle of darker gold was clearly discernible at the juncture of her thighs, as was the faint blush of her nipples, peeking tantalisingly from beneath her hair. He caught his breath, quite unable to say a word.
She smiled at him, looking suddenly unsure of herself, a blush of colour at her cheeks that reminded him forcefully of the fact that she really was an innocent. No matter the things she had seen, no matter the explicit knowledge she might believe she had, in terms of her own experiences she came to him pure and unsullied and he felt the weight of that responsibility. For all that he wanted her, for all that his own body was screaming for him to take her, he would ensure this was everything she wanted it to be. There was a moment in which he acknowledged that, if he was truly a gentleman, he would marry her first. But he simply wasn't a good enough man for that, and he didn't have the strength to turn her away.
"Say something," she said, covering her chest with her arms and looking more and more uncertain as his stunned silence continued.
"I'm finding words in short supply, ma mie," he said with a rueful smile. "You have stolen them." He moved toward hers, closing the distance between them slowly. As he stood in front of her he realised she was trembling and the fact made an intense burst of pain bloom in his chest. He hauled in a breath and reached out a hand, caressing her cheek. "I wish I had the right words for you, Céleste. If I had I would speak prettily of the oceans and the blue of your eyes, I would compare you to some ancient deity that stole the hearts of mortal men with a single glance, but I have never had that kind of gift. I am not a poet, but ... I have never known desire like this."
She looked up at him and the trust and love in her eyes almost overwhelmed him. "I don't need pretty words, Alex. I never 'ave. I just want you."
She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her close to him, one hand still cradling her head as he lowered his mouth to hers. Infinitely tender, he kissed her with adoration and slow, seductive touches, deepening the kiss by increments, brushing his tongue against her lips, seeking entry. She responded with enthusiasm, mimicking his slow strokes as his kiss flamed with intensity, crushing her soft body against his harder one. She moaned into his mouth and he devoured the sound, holding onto his own desires with desperation as she moved restlessly in his arms.
"Easy," he murmured, pulling away and brushing his lips against her cheek, feathering butterfly kisses along her jaw, her forehead. "There is no rush, mignonne, I'm going to take care of you."
"Oh, but, Alex," she said, her voice breathless as she clutched at his neck. "I-I need ... I want ..."
"I know," he said, desperately holding himself in check. "I know what you need. Trust me, love." He sought her breast, caressing her through the sheer material as his other hand dropped to cup the delicious curve of her bottom, pulling her against him and insinuating one leg between both of hers. She gasped as the pressure of his hard thigh brought her the relief she sought and she clung to him, moving against him, seeking her own pleasure. "Oh, God, Céleste," he murmured, wondering how the hell he was going to keep control of the situation when she was temptation incarnate.
She was shredding his self-control and his body was coiled tight, like an over wound spring. Any moment the tension would become too much and he would break. He searched for the ties that held the flimsy garment in place, vaguely aware that he hadn't meant for this to happen in his study; he had planned to take her upstairs but now ... but now... He had never been so consumed by a woman, to the point where nothing else existed outside of themselves. The bloody house could burn down around them and they would be consumed in the flames without him ever noticing. The nightdress fell away with a hushed whisper of material and he looked down on her, his prize, his love, the source of so many sleepless nights.
"So beautiful," he murmured, hoping she could hear the reverence in his voice. "Perfect," he added, dipping his head to caress one sweet, pink nipple with his tongue. She sank her fingers into his hair, uttering soft, breathless sounds as she pulled his head closer. He teased and tortured the peak with lips and tongue and the occasional delicate graze of teeth, revelling in the little gasps and exclamations she made as he moved from one breast to the other, lavishing both with equal care.
He returned to her mouth, delving into the silky damp with deeper, fiercer, more penetrating kisses. She responded with abandon, giving herself over entirely to this new experience, trustin
g in him completely, and quite obviously at the mercy of her own body. He knew she had no idea yet, what to do with such an overwhelming cacophony of sensations and he sought to reassure her, to calm her, but she was like quicksilver in his arms, desperate and hot with need. He slid one hand over the lush curve of her waist and hip, traversing her stomach and dipping lower as he sought out the little thatch of curls, parting her tender flesh with care and holding her tight as she jolted in his arms.
He drew back from the kiss and stood watching, her mouth opening in a little O of surprise as he discovered the silken peak and stroked just a fraction higher. Caressing with feather light touches she gave a little gasping cry and her eyes drifted shut as she submitted to his touch, her head tilting back.
Oh God, he was never going to last. His body was harder than it had ever been, throbbing with need that bordered on the most exquisite pain. He allowed his head to drop, lavishing hot kisses over her throat, seeking her mouth and kissing her again as she sighed and shifted with impatience for more, faster. She was rushing towards the peak without yet understanding that he needed to lead her on a slow voyage to a higher destination. Her desire was only too obvious and he hauled in a breath as his fingers dipped a little lower and found her drenched and pliant. With more tenderness and patience than he had been aware he possessed he teased the slick opening, carefully sliding one finger inside and caressing. Her breath came ever faster and she clutched at his clothes, her skin flushing pink as he pleasured her with slow, sure strokes.
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