by Lynsay Sands
The next subject he had brought up had been the town house of Gerald's. The repairs were nearly finished, he'd informed Maggie, causing a flash of guilt in her for not wondering about the matter herself. He had then suggested she sell the house and invest the proceeds in her own name, assuring her that he intended to leave her the freedom of those funds.
Which was very considerate, really. Maggie supposed she should be happy, or at least content. She knew very well that few women were as fortunate in their marriages as it appeared she was to be. But...But...
Maggie sighed miserably. She knew she had a lot to be grateful for, but, greedy woman that she was, she wanted more. She wanted a husband who would love and cherish her. She wanted James to love and cherish her. She made a face at such foolishness, wondering why the fact that he didn't bothered her so much. After all, it was not as if she loved him, was it? The very question made her tremble where she sat. Did she love him? Dear God, surely she hadn't been so foolish as to fall in love with the man?
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Maggie tried to consider the matter sensibly. She did like him. She would admit to that. Even when he was being bossy and overbearing, as he'd been when he kidnapped her, he had acted with the best of intentions and had not been unkind. Then, too, while having her in his power and thinking her a fallen woman, he had not taken advantage of the situation by using her to slake his desires. Well...there was that time in the Ramsey library, but that had hardly been "using" her. Maggie herself had actually initiated that kiss when James had hesitated. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that she had seduced him.
That thought gave her pause. Maggie had never really thought of herself as a seductress, but she had pressed that first kiss to his lips and set off that whole heated first exchange. Aye, she had seduced him. And wasn't that an interesting turn of events? She had seduced him. Aren't I a wicked girl? she thought with delight, finding the idea terribly encouraging--in an odd way. If she could seduce James, perhaps there was the possibility that she could make him love her, too.
She was still pondering that when the library door opened, drawing her reluctant attention. James stepped inside and glanced around, and her heart tripped with surprise. She had seen very little of him since the night of their downfall. Lady Barlow, she suspected, was doing her best to keep them apart until they were safely married. Where before James had visited often and long, she'd hardly had a glimpse of him these last few days.
The day he had made her retire G. W. Clark was the only real time they had spent together, and that had been with Lady Barlow present the whole time, negating any possibility of a serious or intimate conversation. Seeing him here now, and without his aunt on his heels, was something of a surprise. Enough of a surprise that Maggie must have made a startled sound or movement, for he glanced her way, his eyes settling warmly upon her.
"There you are." Pushing the door closed, he crossed the room and caught her hand to draw her to her feet. Then he said, "Surely you have a welcoming kiss for the man soon to be your husband?" He didn't leave her time to answer, but instead lowered his head to cover her mouth with his.
It truly was little more than a welcoming kiss, though, a quick brush of his lips over hers, and Maggie felt disappointment rise within her as he started to pull away. She didn't pause to consider why she was disappointed, or admit that she enjoyed his kisses greatly and hungered for more of them, had hungered for them since their first one; she merely reminded herself that she was a seductress. Wasn't she? Hadn't she seduced James in the country--even if unintentionally? Couldn't she do so again?
Eager to test this new side of herself while she still had the courage, Maggie caught the back of James's head with one hand as he tried to pull away. Drawing him back to her, she again pressed her lips over his. James stiffened in surprise as Maggie brushed her mouth over his. Then, when she opened her mouth and ran her tongue along the seam of his closed lips, requesting entrance, he opened at once and the stiffness left him. He took over.
The stiffness in most of his body was gone, she amended with secret glee. The part of him pressing against her belly, however, grew noticeably stiffer, apparently excited by her aggression. He responded in kind.
When she broke the kiss to nip gently at his chin, then trailed little kisses along James's jaw to his ear, as he had done to her, her name slipped from his lips and his arms tightened around her. A moment later, his hands dropped to cup her bottom through her skirts. Maggie reciprocated by clasping his behind, then slid one hand between them and cupped his crotch.
"God, Maggie," he said under his breath, thrusting into her touch. He shook his head as if to clear it. "What are you doing? My sis--"
Maggie silenced him with another kiss, this one deep and passionate. She quickly undid the buttons of the front flap of his breeches, then slid her hand swiftly inside. She found and fondled his erection. He grew farther in her hand, bulging, throbbing, harder. Much to Maggie's surprise, her own excitement grew. She felt in control. Powerful. And she felt herself grow damp with arousal.
Recalling what he had done to her on two occasions now, she ended their kiss and dropped to her knees before him. Finding, licking, and pressing kisses along the length of his shaft, she began an effort to please him as he had done to her. She was kissing the tip of him when James unexpectedly thrust forward. Maggie started to pull back, her mouth opening in surprise, and found herself with a mouthful. The groan it elicited from him made her hesitate; then she drew her head back slightly, her teeth gently grazing the head of his member before she slid her lips forward again, taking in as much of the shaft as she could while she held its base.
The action appeared to have an electrifying effect. James bucked, the words "Maggie, oh, God!" torn from him in tortured gasps. Maggie managed the action two more times before he grasped her upper arms and dragged her back to her feet.
"Did I do something wrong?" she whispered in alarm. James shook his head violently, and she straightened before him.
"No. God, no," he muttered. "It is just that if you do not stop, I...I have been dreaming about you all week and I..." Giving up his explanation, he peered about, then steered her behind the chair in which she had been sitting. Pausing there, he claimed her lips with something close to desperation.
Maggie kissed him back just as passionately. This time, when she felt the brush of air making its way up her legs, she didn't need to look down to know he was tugging her skirts up. The image she'd seen at Ramsey of James's dark hand against her pale flesh immediately rose in her mind, and she moaned into his mouth in anticipation, then bit his lower lip lightly in excitement. His hand slid between her thighs to work its magic.
Maggie was so wrapped up in what he was doing, it took her by surprise when his other hand reached down to stop hers as she tried to touch him again. Pulling it away at the same time as he broke their kiss, he grasped her by the waist and turned her to face the back of the chair in which she'd earlier sat. He then urged her to bend forward.
Lifting her skirts, he slid into her from behind. Maggie gasped in surprise. Eyes wide, she held her breath as he filled her, then let that breath out on a long, loud moan. One of his hands moved to cup her breast through her gown, and the other slid under the front of her upraised skirts. It found the center of her pleasure and continued caressing. Her moan turned into little mewls of pleasure and pleading as he began to slide in and out of her, his fingers moving in time with his thrusts.
Digging her fingernails into the upholstery of the chair over which she was bent, Maggie cried out; her body was beginning to shudder and shake. Pleasure exploded through her. She heard James cry out, too. After one last thrust, her body throbbing around him, he collapsed on her back with a groan.
The library door opened. One moment Maggie and James were hanging over the chair panting; the next they were both standing upright, guilt and alarm painting their flushed faces. James slid out of her, and her skirts fell back into place.
"James, where
the devil have you gotten to?" Lady Barlow called irritably as she stepped into the room. There was an attractive brunette at her heels. Despite the fact that the woman was not the wizened Lady Wingate, Maggie suffered a definite sense of deja vu at the situation. James's aunt looked about the room until she spotted them, standing one behind the other, half-hidden by the chair. "Oh, there you are. Sophie wants--"
Lady Barlow paused after only a few steps, her gaze narrowing at their flushed and breathless state. Her eyes widened, and she cried, "Good Lord, not again! What the devil is it with you and libraries that makes you unable to control yourself in them, James? You have always had a passion for books, but really!"
Groaning, Maggie closed her eyes and wished with all her heart that the floor would do her the inestimable favor of opening up and swallowing her whole. She was not at all appreciative of James's sense of humor when a small snort of laughter slid from his lips, blowing against the sensitive skin on the back of her neck. For a moment she considered sliding out from between him and the chair and making her escape, but she wasn't at all sure that the chair was high enough to hide his presently unsheathed state--she was trapped where she was unless she wished it revealed.
Much to her relief, Lady Barlow did not leave her trapped for long. Giving a huff of disgust, the woman turned and made her way back to the door. "Sophie and I will be in the salon. I will expect you immediately, James. I do hope you can keep your hands off the poor girl long enough for her to meet your sister."
The door closed behind the two women with a soft thud, and James heaved a breath of relief. Sliding his arms around Maggie's waist from behind, he nuzzled the top of her head. "I fear she is right. I always have had a passion for libraries. Still, I never realized quite how much pleasure they could afford until I met you."
Caught off guard by the comment, Maggie found herself chuckling, her shoulders relaxing as the tension slipped from them. Covering his hands with her own, she leaned back and tipped her head to smile up at him crookedly. "I do not know if I can face them after getting caught like that again. Your aunt must think me the lowest of creatures."
"You?" He glanced at her with surprise, then shook his head firmly. "Nay. She thinks the world of you. It is me of whom she thinks poorly. I am the seducer of innocents, you see."
"Oh, but I seduced you," Maggie protested earnestly, turning in his arms. James's gaze heated again. "So you did, you little minx." He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, his lips curving in an appreciative smile. "And rather thoroughly at that, too."
Rather pleased with herself, Maggie smiled and leaned against his chest, tucking her head under his chin to enjoy his simple caress. His hands moved over her back in a soothing rhythm. The two of them stood like that for a moment; then James chuckled.
"What a shame we were caught, however. I am quite certain Aunt Viv shall make sure we do not get any more such opportunities. We will be lucky if she doesn't raid the museum for a chastity belt and clap it on you until the wedding."
An amused giggle erupted from Maggie at the thought, and James's arms tightened around her. His voice was a bit irritated as he said, "There is nothing funny about it, madam. In case you hadn't noticed, just holding you like this has left me embarrassingly eager for more. The next two weeks are shaping up to be rather hellish."
Pulling back, Maggie peered down at his breeches, surprised to note that he was indeed bulging with interest. But that didn't surprise her as much as the fact that he was bulging against the cloth of his breeches. He was tucked in and buttoned up, and the only time he could possibly have done that without her noticing was while they had stood facing his aunt. It was no wonder she had worked out what they were doing if he had been busy putting himself away as she approached!
Maggie should have been annoyed with him, but he was gifting her with such a sweetly wry expression, she couldn't seem to muster any irritation.
"Come. My sister is going to love you, and you shall love her, too. The two of you shall no doubt become good friends."
"Your sister probably already hates me," Maggie muttered unhappily as he dragged her toward the door. "She probably thinks me a tart."
"Nonsense. She was caught in rather similar circumstances herself with her husband--before he was her husband," he confided with amusement. "Their wedding was rather rushed as well, you know. It would appear a bit of scandal runs in the family."
A little more than an hour later, Maggie had to admit that James was right. She wouldn't have said that she and Sophie loved each other already, but they certainly got on well enough and had found several interests in common. Maggie rather liked her soon-to-be sister-in-law and hoped it might be mutual. Which was why it was such a shame that this was James's sister. Maggie felt rather in need of a friend just now.
Peering out the window of her room, she watched the activity on the street below with blind eyes. Maggie had enjoyed the visit, despite its embarrassing beginning, and had cut it short only out of consideration for Sophie and Lady Barlow. The two women had an obvious affection for each other, and Maggie had thought to let them visit privately after James excused himself. Maggie couldn't recall the evening's plans exactly at the moment, but supposed they would all either go to a play and a ball, an opera and a soiree, or some other similar combination. This would be another evening on display.
She twitched the drapes at her windows impatiently, her mind returning to the dilemma she'd been considering before her exciting little adventure in the library. Did she love James? The question left her with the beginnings of a headache. Normally she would have taken such a problem to her friend Charlotte to discuss. Unfortunately Charlotte hadn't ventured into London yet. It was early in the season still, and Charlotte's family tended to be one of the last to arrive each year.
Maggie had friends with whom she might have discussed other problems, but Charlotte was the only one with whom she would feel comfortable discussing this personal issue, and in this matter, Maggie wasn't at all sure she would even have felt thoroughly comfortable discussing it with her. Charlotte like Maggie was unmarried, but Charlotte was well-behaved--which Maggie could no longer claim. Nay, perhaps she couldn't have discussed this dilemma with her. What she needed was a more experienced woman, someone married, someone to whom she could talk. Like Sophie.
She discarded the thought as quickly as it came to her. While she hoped that she and Sophie might someday become close enough to discuss such things, it was too early in their friendship yet. Besides, the other girl would be biased in her opinions: James was her brother.
Sighing, Maggie leaned her head against the window, her gaze focusing on an old woman peddling fruit on the street. The shawl covering her head and the hunched way she walked reminded her of the disguise Madame Dubarry had used when she'd come to tell Maggie that someone was impersonating her dead brother. Maggie smiled fondly at the thought of the woman. She supposed it was shocking that she enjoyed a friendship with the brothel owner, but Agatha was the only one who had seen both sides of her: what the world saw, and her secret identity as G. W. Clark. And the older woman never judged her. Which was not how the ton would have reacted, she knew.
"Oh, stuff!" she muttered suddenly, straightening by the window. She could talk to Agatha Dubarry. Aggie would neither be shocked nor biased. She would listen and offer advice born of years of experience. It was such a brilliant idea, and so obvious, that Maggie wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. She would invite Agatha to tea. She hadn't done that in ages--not since before her abduction to the country, anyway.
Moving to the bellpull in the corner, she gave it a tug, knowing it would bring Mary immediately. She would send the girl for stationary and ink and invite Agatha here to Lady Bar--
"Oh," she murmured aloud as she realized that she couldn't possibly invite the woman here. This was not her home. It was one thing to invite the madam to her own house, but she could not possibly invite her here without Lady Barlow's permission. Maggie grimaced. She could just i
magine Lady Barlow's reaction to a request to invite a brothel owner to tea. The woman would be scandalized.
Maybe, some part of her reasoned. Then again, maybe not. She hadn't been scandalized by Maggie's being G. W. Clark, she considered. Then she shook her head. Writing articles for the Daily Express and owning a brothel were not exactly similar degrees of scandal.
Sighing, she gave up the idea with regret, only to glance up in surprise when Mary rushed in. "Yes, m'lady?" the maid asked.
"Oh, never mind." Maggie started to wave the girl away, then paused as her gaze fell on the maid's serviceable gown and the shawl draped over her shoulders. Her cheeks were rosy, she noted, a telltale sign that she had been out to the stables to see her beau, but it was Mary's dress that caught Maggie's attention. The beginnings of an idea were taking root in her mind: perhaps Agatha could not come visit her, but might she possibly slip out to visit Agatha?
"M'lady?"
Maggie gave a start at the maid's uncertain murmur and stiffened. "It is all right, Mary. I was going to write a letter but changed my mind. I am sorry to have troubled you. You may go back to what you were doing."
"Yes, m'lady." The girl was gone as quickly as she had come--no doubt straight back to the stables, Maggie thought. She turned her mind back to her daring thoughts of moments before.
Dared she sneak out and visit Madame Dubarry? Lady Barlow and James would have a fit if she were caught. If she argued with herself and she had no intention of being caught. She would sneak out now, while James was gone and Lady Barlow was visiting with her niece. She would be back in plenty of time to prepare for their evening outing.
Yes, but there was her assailant to consider. She risked his harming her if he saw through her disguise. But no one pays attention to servants, she told herself. She could dress as a servant, slip out the back, and carry a basket as if she were going to market. It was growing rather late for a trip to the market, but not so late that it wasn't possible. Then, too, no one would believe she would dare leave her guard behind and traipse about on her own. Not after the last attack.