In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL)

by Maggie Robinson

  Charles sat up and knocked his shoulder into the headboard. “You do not know what you are saying. Are you sure someone didn’t hit you in the head?”

  “I am perfectly sure this is what I want. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. But then,” she mused, “no one I’ve met before has been as suitable as you for a liaison. You are very handsome, you know. And sufficiently distant. I don’t sense you want something from me that I can’t give. All my other beaux have been so grasping, but my fortune doesn’t seem to impress you in the least.”

  “Believe me, I want your money, or else I wouldn’t have agreed to this crackpot scheme,” Charles growled. “Do not cloak me with an honor I do not have.”

  “Oh! But you are honorable. I’m sure of it. The very fact that we’re having this argument proves to me you are just the man to take me to bed. Now,” she said, rising up on an elbow, “let’s stop talking. Kiss me, please.” She shut her huge brown eyes and pursed her lips.

  Devil take it. How could Charles hold out against such baffling logic? He was only a man. In fact, he was relieved to discover he was still a man. He would kiss her. He didn’t have to go beyond a kiss. She’d said so.

  Carpe diem indeed.

  Chapter

  14

  Louisa realized she probably looked like an ornamental goldfish with her lips pursed, so she parted her lips a little, hoping she appeared somewhat kissable, and opened her eyes a fraction. She really was out of practice.

  Louisa was not entirely sure what had set her on the path to seduce Captain Cooper this evening. She’d been very stingy with her favors this past year, eluding all sorts of Continental rakes and rogues. A kiss was one thing, but she’d permitted no one to take liberties with her person. Sir Richard’s fumblings were still fresh in her mind even after all these years, and she’d not been eager to repeat her foolish mistakes. She was impervious to concupiscence. Invulnerable. A shielded and belted goddess of belated chastity.

  But there was something about Charles Cooper that pierced her shield and drove straight into her heart. Maybe it was his reluctance. His natural reticence. His crooked smile. Whatever it was, she felt a connection with him that she’d never expected.

  He’d said he drank to excess. That he was doing this for her money. Every step of the way he’d been self-deprecating. Too honest. Yes, he was perfect for this job.

  If Louisa looked deep inside herself, which she was loath to do most days, she was terrified of making another mistake for “love.” True, she’d been only seventeen when she embarked on her ill-fated affair. When one was seventeen, one knew very little of lasting value, and certainly nothing of love. Her judgment had been execrable. She’d actually thought Sir Richard would marry her!

  She’d been consumed with such longing, such wickedness, she hadn’t spared a thought for everything her aunt had drilled into her from childhood. As easily as she’d bundled up dirty stockings for the laundry maid, Louisa had tossed her virginity away as a despised inconvenience.

  Her good sense as well.

  Lust was not love. She knew that now, and could be perfectly satisfied with lust for the time being. Lust felt delicious. Her body thrummed like a well-oiled engine as she gazed up at Charles Cooper. He was so very attractive. Had done something useful with his life, too, unlike the dilettantes she’d encountered in Europe. It was clear he did not want to overstep his bounds, but it was time to redraw the lines.

  Charles did not disappoint, drawing her up into his lap. He stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes blazing bright blue even in the firelit dimness of the room. And then he took utter control of her, one hand delving into her hair while the other skimmed the edge of her robe. She was frozen in place, right where she needed to be. His mouth bore down with just the right amount of pressure, his lips firm and dry. The kiss was commanding, yet still questioned. Louisa sensed she could break it off at will, but that was not the answer she gave him.

  She eased into his broad chest, feeling remarkably comfortable despite her very wanton request. She had not wanted a man this close to her in ages, and now she felt as if she’d like to crawl right into him. She let her tongue tease against his, then boldly thrust it inside his mouth, claiming the kiss for her own.

  He responded, and they chased each other back and forth until neither was in charge. And wasn’t that wonderful, this shared game? No matter who won, they would both benefit.

  Sensation washed over her, prickling her scalp clear down to her toes. Louisa was simultaneously cold and hot, her nipples peaking beneath his nimble fingers, which had somehow slipped under the robe. Charles’s touch was unerring. Electric. Her breasts ached with unfamiliar need. She’d never paid them much mind before, but suddenly all she wanted was Charles’s mouth on her nipples.

  That would mean the cessation of this glorious kiss, however, and Louisa was not ready to surrender any part of it. Her body would have to wait to be worshipped. They had all night. The rest of their lives.

  Her breath hitched. Where had that thought come from? She mustn’t be vulnerable again. This was just lust. Everyone succumbed to it eventually. It was her time. For now.

  If his hands could roam, so could hers. His shoulders were broad, his cheek rough with stubble. The knot at his waist was impossible, but she found a slit in the sheet and ventured in.

  Mercy. He was huge and hot and temporarily hers. He surged up in her hand, his kiss becoming urgent.

  An hour or so ago she was touching herself, and with any luck she could make him do her work for her now. She begged silently for him to reciprocate, and it didn’t take him long to push her robe apart. His hand moved from her belly to her nether curls, heading straight for her pulsing center. Her startled—grateful—cry was muffled by the endless, enveloping kiss. She was cocooned in pleasure, in wet and warmth. Charles seemed to know where to touch her. How to touch her. She hoped she was returning the favor, doing justice to the hard velvet cock in her hand. Perhaps he’d think her clumsiness was simple enthusiasm. It was hard to concentrate when he continued to stroke and swirl over her most sensitive flesh. But he seemed to have no objection to what she was doing, so Louisa tried to match his rhythm and intensity.

  It was working. The kiss lost its focus and Charles withdrew, gasping against her throat, sending shivers down her body. She nipped his shoulder, trailed tiny kisses everywhere she could reach. She was still sitting across his thighs and wondering when he would tip her down to the mattress when the spurt of hot liquid spilled over her hand. She stiffened in surprise as he pushed her away, removing his magical hand and leaving her bereft of her own climax.

  “Jesus,” he said raggedly, looking chagrined. “I’m sorry. I’m like a schoolboy. That was unforgivable.” He wiped her hand with the sheet he still had wrapped around him.

  “What’s unforgivable is that I did not join you in your bliss.”

  He looked at her and burst out laughing. “You look so damn prim. And here you are asking me to finish you off. Give me a moment to catch my breath and I’ll get to it.”

  His reaction was so very strange. Almost manic. “Never mind. I can take care of myself.”

  “The hell you will! I’ll go mad if I have to watch you touch yourself. I’m sorry, Louisa. It’s been a very long time for me. To have a woman in my bed. I’ve said as much to you. I thought myself—incapable. But tonight I never thought once about—” His smile disappeared as if it never was.

  “What? Or should I say who?” She straightened the folds of her robe. “Who is your lost love that’s ruined you for other women?”

  “It wasn’t like that.” He swung his legs off the bed and sat at the edge, his back to her. Louisa saw a scattering of light scars down one side of his back. Shrapnel, she decided. Poor Charles.

  “What was it like?”

  “We should go to sleep. I’ll go back to my room and pray someone puts me out of my
embarrassment. Brick. Shovel. Whatever’s handy.”

  “So you’ll renege on your promise?”

  He turned to look at her over his shoulder, his face in deepest shadow. “What do you mean?”

  “You were, as I believe you put it, going to ‘finish me off.’ I’m holding you to that. It’s not at all fair, what just happened. It’s been a very long time for me as well.”

  He was silent so long she wondered if he remembered how to talk.

  Then he sighed. “You are a most unusual young woman, Louisa Stratton. One underestimates you at one’s peril.”

  “Thank you, I suppose. Some might just call me a hoyden.”

  “That, too. Lie down then and make yourself comfortable. I aim to earn my keep.”

  “This isn’t about money,” she said, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “I think we’re beyond that, don’t you?”

  He settled his long body down beside her. “Miles and miles beyond. You look adorable when you’re angry.”

  “I’m not angry. Just sexually frustrated. Dr. Freud believes—”

  “Hang Dr. Freud and all the other charlatans.” Charles kissed the tip of her nose, causing her to go cross-eyed for an instant. His face was still close when he finished, his breath warm on her cheek. “Don’t you want to unbelt that robe?”

  “When you remove your sheet.”

  “Very well.” He gave a tug and the linen slipped from his hips. His member was in a state of repose against a nest of black curls, but still quite fascinatingly large. Much bigger than Sir Richard’s, she realized with a trace of dismay. She should not be thinking of that man now, even if Charles was recalling an old amour. “Your turn.”

  Louisa fumbled with the silk and Charles had to help her. The fabric parted under Charles’s intent inspection. “You are beautiful. Much too beautiful for the likes of me.”

  “D-don’t be silly.” Louisa was not completely at ease with Charles’s direct gaze.

  “No. Really. Your waist is so tiny. How did you manage that?”

  “Waist training. From the time I was a little girl. I slept in my corset for years. Aunt Grace’s doing. There were times I thought I couldn’t swallow a bite.”

  He traced a finger down her breastbone to her navel. “Torture. Torment.”

  “Yes, but now my figure conforms perfectly to the fashions. I suppose I should thank her.” Louisa wondered what might happen if she ever became pregnant, but that was not likely to happen. She’d have to find a husband first, and she was not looking for one.

  Good heavens. Had Charles Cooper ever had a wife? Was he some sad widower who went off to war, leaving her behind to die alone? “Tell me about this woman.”

  “No. Not now. I’m going to be much too busy.” He bent and pressed his lips on the broad curve of her hip. Then he moved down her thigh, feathering her skin with tickling kisses. He was so awfully close—

  “W-what are you doing?”

  “Pleasuring you, of course. Has no one tasted you before?”

  “Tasted me? I’m not a foodstuff.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. The nectar of the gods is right here.”

  And then his tongue—his tongue!—swept into the crevice of her mons veneris and she screamed.

  “Hush. We don’t want to disturb the household. I am not hurting you, am I?”

  Oh, he was evil. The smug look on his face told her he knew exactly what effect he was having upon her.

  How stupid she was. Louisa should have realized men could do this to women, just as women could do it to men. How lovely would it be if they could do it to each other at the same time. Was that even possible? Louisa would ask once Charles had finished, because clearly she could not speak a word at the moment.

  His mouth was incomparable. Teeth and tongue and fingers helping. Plunging. Tugging. Doing things Louisa did not know the verbs for. Some pressure on her pubic bone, a flick and she was shattering, legs splayed, her back arching off the bed in exquisite agony. And still he didn’t stop until she rose twice more to the impossible peak of perfection.

  “Nectar,” he said, as he moved up the bed. “See for yourself.” He covered her mouth with his and she felt a hot flush of arousal course through her body. This could not be proper at all. But when had she given a fig for propriety?

  Louisa kissed him back, having lost her mind and whatever scruples she’d ever possessed. Charles Cooper was a demon. And he was her demon for the next thirty days.

  She reached for his manhood, thrilled to feel it, too, had responded to Charles’s miraculous kiss. Louisa was greedy. She wanted more. She wanted it all, every messy, sweaty adventure he was capable of giving her. They might only have tonight, for someone was out to hurt them. She really, really should release him from his obligation and face Rosemont and its residents alone. Maximillian could be called away on business, or they could quarrel as husbands and wives did. He would be safe.

  But not tonight. She was too selfish. And stubborn. She wanted to erase whatever memory Charles had that brought that bleakness to his eyes. She would banish that ghost if he let her.

  She broke the wicked kiss. “Make love to me,” she whispered. His cock jerked in her hand. “Please.”

  Charles looked at her, his eyes black with desire. “It wasn’t enough?”

  “Nothing will ever be enough. You’ve corrupted me.”

  “Good,” he said, and proceeded to corrupt her further.

  Chapter

  15

  This was folly. But Charles was every bit as swept away as the foolish woman in his arms. Someone had to see reason, but he was very much afraid it wasn’t he.

  Louisa Stratton was his employer, but that trifling detail had nothing to do with his current confusion. He wanted her, wanted a woman for the first time in months. But what if Marja came between them, a wraith reminding him of his guilt?

  No. Not now. There was no one in his senses but Louisa, whose taste and touch and scent had driven him delightfully mad. There would be consequences, but for this night he would pretend he was normal, pretend he was Maximillian Norwich, engaging in church-blessed carnal relations with his lovely, rich wife. There was nothing sordid or salacious about sticking his needy prick in her smooth wet passage and bringing them both to ecstasy.

  Louisa parted for him and he pushed in, grateful there was no barrier of resistance. She was not a virgin, a fact that didn’t trouble him beyond wishing she’d given her virtue to someone more worthy than Sir Richard Delacourt. She was right—women deserved their satisfaction as much as men. He might not support the suffragist cause, but why should one half of the population be denied what physical comfort God had given humans? Most lives were brutal and short—one almost had an obligation to snatch happiness where one found it.

  Of course, there was pregnancy to fear, and Charles cautioned himself to withdraw when it was time. But until then he would savor every inch of friction, every sigh that escaped Louisa’s lips. He rose over her, feeling strong and almost certain of the rightness of this act. They had well pleasured each other, but now the experience was mutual.

  Her response was everything he could hope for as they found their sensual path together, meeting and parting until he drove into her with no further thought of teasing escape. She was crying in earnest now, wild, swallowing him up inside the hot core of her womanhood, her fingernails raking his back.

  He canted his body until he knew his cock brushed against her clitoris, grinding against her, going deeper with every circling of his hips. She was helpless, wordless, her mouth begging for a kiss. He obliged, leaning down and using his tongue as a weapon of victory. She splintered beneath him, rocking up under him in broken waves, rising, falling, rising up again. Her orgasm was as undisciplined as her driving—Louisa had lost all control.

  If he was not careful, he would do the same. With the utmo
st reluctance, he withdrew and pushed his cock hard against her, spilling onto her smooth white skin. It was almost enough, but he groaned in frustration anyway at being denied the ultimate satisfaction. To be totally accepted. To mark her inside and out as his own. Something primitive blossomed within him and he bit a spot above her collarbone, sucking the flesh between his teeth as she gave a little scream beneath him.

  Charles had hurt her. Louisa lay breathless beneath him, her body shaking. Her eyes were dark and wide, finally seeing him as he was.

  He was a beast who took advantage of those weaker than he. Why, he could snap Louisa Stratton in half, get hold of her by her tiny waist and squeeze the heedless, vibrant life out of her.

  As he’d done once before.

  He shut his eyes against her accusing beauty and rolled away, leaving her to the mess on her stomach. He couldn’t touch her again.

  “Charles, what is it?” Her voice was soft. A balm. One would never know she’d been shrieking like a wild cat moments before.

  “This—this wasn’t right. None of it. I’m sorry I . . . defiled you. I will leave in the morning.”

  Louisa gathered up the covers with unnatural calm. “You are rejecting my friendship?”

  His mouth twisted. “Friendship? Is that what silly society girls call this? Pardon me. I call it fucking, Miss Stratton. We’ve satisfied the itch now. There’s no need to drag it out any longer and repeat the mistake.” His head ached. She looked so innocent amidst the jumble of sheets and pillows. So fresh, a living rebuke to his darkness.

  “Stop talking such nonsense! Tell me what is wrong.”

  What wasn’t? Though at least Louisa wasn’t dead.

  “There’s nothing wrong. There’s nothing right. I suppose I must thank you for tonight—I never expected to have relations with a woman again.”