Or that he would quickly become quite so heavy.
Not that she didn’t relish the feel of him on top of her, but the need to draw a deep breath was about to overtake the pleasure of him covering her like a human blanket.
Whether he sensed her need or simply possessed good timing she didn’t know, but just then he stirred. After brushing a kiss against her cheek, he shifted to prop his weight on his forearms and looked down at her, his eyes dark and intense, his breathing still not quite steady. His midnight hair, mussed from her frantic fingers, spilled over his forehead. Reaching up, she brushed the strands aside, only to have them tumble out of place again.
“You look rather disheveled,” she said, with a smile.
“As do you. Delightfully so.” He lowered his head and kissed her. A slow, deep, intimate kiss that conveyed better than any words could have that he’d found their love-making as satisfying as she. A kiss that rekindled the flame he’d extinguished only moments ago.
“I’m going to want to do all that again,” she whispered against his lips, trailing her fingers lightly down his spine.
“I don’t know when I’ve heard better news. But I’m afraid I’ll need a few minutes to recover first.” Dropping a quick kiss onto her mouth, he eased from her body, then rolled onto his back, bringing her along.
Sprawled across his chest, Catherine watched him stuff one of the pillows beneath his head. After loosely wrapping his arms around her, his eyelids drooped.
Her brows shot upward. “Don’t tell me you’re tired!”
He chuckled. “All right. I won’t tell you that.”
“But you are!” Her voice was ripe with accusation. “How can that be? I’ve never felt more energetic in my entire life.” She tickled her fingers down his abdomen. “I can hardly stay still.”
“A fact that will greatly reduce my recovery time, I assure you.”
“So you’re not feeling wonderful?”
“I feel incredibly wonderful. But in a ‘wrung-out sponge’ manner, as opposed to your ‘filled with vigor’ manner.”
“Humph. Wrung-out sponge does not sound very... encouraging.”
A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Actually, I meant it as a compliment to you.”
“Indeed? I think it is time for me to fetch a dictionary so you can look up compliment. I’m certain that ‘wrung-out sponge’ is not given as an example.”
“My darling Catherine, I am wrung out because you satisfied me so completely. So absolutely.” His hands skimmed down her back. “As I’ve never been satisfied before.”
My darling Catherine. Heavens, that sounded... lovely. Especially in that husky growl his voice had become. “Well, I can certainly say the same thing to you. In fact, I’m anxious to tell you about all the firsts I’ve experienced since I entered the gazebo. Would you like to hear about the things I’ve discovered?”
“I’d be delighted.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you certain you won’t doze off? You look suspiciously sleepy.”
He dipped his chin and looked down at her with a sinful smile. “I’m not sleepy. I’m sated. I assure you that you have my full attention.”
“Very well. I’ve never undressed a man before.” She traced a series of light circles on his bare chest. “I’ve never seen a naked man before.”
One dark brow shot upward. “Never?”
She shook her head, her chin bumping against his chest. Then she sat up and skimmed her gaze down his length. “Although I have nothing to compare you to, I think you are most likely a very well made specimen.”
One corner of his lovely mouth lifted. “Thank you.”
“I very much like the way your skin feels. Warm and firm.” Unable to stop touching him, she rested her hand against his shoulder, then slowly dragged her palm down the center of his chest. “I’ve never seen, or touched hair on a man’s chest. It’s a bit coarse, but soft at the same time. And your muscles... an enthralling delight. So strong, under all that warm, firm skin.” She skimmed a single fingertip slowly downward. “This ribbon of dark hair is absolutely fascinating. The way it starts at your chest, then continues downward, bisecting these lovely ripples on your stomach, then spreads again to cradle...”Her voice drifted off as her gaze riveted on his manhood. “... this part of you that so captivates me, that brought me such incredible sensations. Even at rest you are impressive.” She lightly circled the tip of him with her index finger. “I’ve never touched a man like this before,” she whispered.
He swallowed, then levered himself up onto his side, propping his weight on his forearm. His dark eyes regarded her with an unreadable expression. Reaching out, he cradled her face in his palm and brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “I’m sorry your marriage was not a happy one, Catherine.”
To her mortification, hot tears pushed behind her eyes. “I realized very quickly that with Bertrand I’d been denied the satisfaction that can come from an emotional bond, but until tonight, I hadn’t realized what I’d missed from the physical part our union. I conceived in the first weeks of my marriage, and once my condition was confirmed, Bertrand did not approach me. And once Spencer was born... Bertrand never touched me again. I could count the number of times he visited my bedchamber, and none of those visits in any way resembled what you and I shared this evening. Being with Bertrand was perfunctory. Dry. Uninspiring. Hasty, cursory actions under the cover of darkness. Disappointing and frustrating in ways I didn’t understand.” She turned her head and pressed a kiss in his callused palm. “Being with you was... miraculous. Exciting. Enthralling. And very much not dry. A first in every conceivable way.”
She drew a deep breath, considering her next words for several seconds before continuing. “Bertrand had lovers, you know. Several that I know about, and I’m certain many others of whom I’m not aware. I must admit that I considered such an arrangement myself on more than one occasion, when the loneliness became unbearable. When I needed to touch another person. Longed to smile at someone other than my son. Craved adult companionship.”
“But you didn’t take a lover?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “In spite of my husband’s behavior, my conscience balked at the thought of breaking my marriage vows; although, if I am to be perfectly honest, my fidelity had more to do with remaining true to my own values than it did with loyalty to my husband.”
“Which does not diminish your character in any way, Catherine.”
“Perhaps not, but my other reasons are not quite so noble. Basically, I was afraid. I did not want to risk becoming fodder for the village gossips, and an affair in a village the size of Little Longstone would be all but impossible to conceal. I feared not only for my own reputation, but Spencer’s as well.”
“Caution is not an ignoble virtue, Catherine.”
“I agree. Yet you can see what happened to all my caution. It was not difficult to maintain while untested. But I’d never met anyone whom I wished to take as a lover. Until now.”
His eyes darkened, and a shiver of delight ran through her. Catherine’s eyes slid closed, and for several heartbeats she relived the wonder of their joining. Exhaling a long, slow breath, she whispered dreamily, “Nothing we’d talked about had prepared me. When I wrote the Guide I didn’t—”
Her words chopped off at her slip, and her eyes popped open. For one horrified second she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Heat rushed into her face, and her insides cramped. Then she forced out a laugh, one she prayed did not sound as nervous to him as it did to her. “Read,” she said, willing away the blush scorching her cheeks. “I meant when I read the Guide, I thought that I knew what to expect. But I was wrong.”
She forced her lips into a calm smile, but she knew her face still flamed red. Had his gaze turned suddenly watchful? Speculative? No, no surely she was just imagining it. She’d made a silly slip of the tongue. People made such errors all the time. All she needed to do was change the su
bject. And cease blushing.
Before she could speak, however, he said, “I’m certain you’ve considered that our liaison could conceive a child.”
Relieved that he clearly had not attached any significance to her verbal blunder, she said, “Yes. You need not fear that. I have taken steps to ensure that I do not conceive.”
“I see. And you are aware that you still run the risk of someone discovering that we are lovers.”
“Of course, but surely you agree that it is greatly minimized by the fact that you reside in London and will be returning to your home in a week’s time.”
“In other words, you do not fear discovery as this is only a temporary arrangement.”
“Yes.”For reasons she refused to examine, that single word tasted most unappetizing.
Silence stretched between them, and she realized she was holding her breath. Finally, he nodded, an obvious sign of his agreement, and for some inexplicable reason, she felt let down that he didn’t argue with her. Suggest that they somehow find a way to continue their liaison beyond his weeklong visit. They couldn’t, wouldn’t, of course, but still...
Her thoughts drifted off when he sifted his fingers through her hair, eliciting a head-to-toe tingle that drove everything from her mind. “Your hair,” he said softly, “your skin, they are so amazingly soft.” His hand drifted over her shoulder, then down her arm. “Never in my life have I touched anything so smooth. So silky.” His eyes met hers, and she stilled at the seriousness of his gaze. “I have a confession to make, Catherine.”
Her heart performed a flip at his grave tone. Did he want their affair to continue beyond his visit? “I’m listening.”
“I never thought I’d have the opportunity to touch you, and now that I do...”He cupped her breast and a wicked gleam kindled in his eyes. “Now that I do, I must confess, I cannot stop.”
Her breath caught as he teased her nipple into an aching point. Splaying her hand on his thigh, she leaned forward until only a hairbreadth separated their lips.
“My darling Andrew, I don’t know when I’ve heard better news.”
Staring into the low-burning flames crackling in the grate, a slow smile curved the lone figure’s lips upward. The plans were in place. All was in readiness...
The ticking of the mantel clock served as an irritating reminder of the passage of time. But I shall remain patient. My quarry is in sight. I know who you are. Soon, very soon, all the wrongs will be righted.
Chapter 15
As men tend to be forgetful creatures, Today's Modern Woman needs to make an indelible impression in her gentleman’s mind so he cannot ever completely dismiss her from his thoughts. The most effective way to do this is to say or do something deliciously naughty—very discreetly, so only he is aware of it. If a man believes there is a sexual encounter in his imminent future, his attention will not wander far.
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
Andrew prepared to exit his bedchamber the next morning, one thing uppermost in his mind: Catherine.
After a final lingering kiss, he’d reluctantly left her at her bedchamber door four hours ago. Actually four hours and eleven minutes ago, not that he was counting.
Very well, he was counting. And those four hours and eleven minutes had felt like four years. He needed to touch her. Kiss her. Hold her against him to reaffirm me miracle of last night. Making love to her had been a revelation. In his dreams, he’d touched her, loved her, countless times, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of her beneath him, looking up at him, her eyes glazed with need. His body joining with hers as he wordlessly expressed all the feelings he’d kept locked away for so long. All the things he couldn’t say—yet.
He exited his bedchamber and strode down the corridor, impatience pulling at him. When he looked into her eyes this morning would he see all the magic they’d shared together reflected there? The desire to experience more of the same? Or would she have spent the last four hours and now twelve minutes deciding that last night was enough?
His lips pressed together. If she’d somehow decided that it was enough, he’d just damn well have to change her mind. She was his. And he intended to have her.
When he rounded the corner, he spied Milton nearing the top of the stairs.
“Mr. Stanton,” the butler said in his precise tones, “I was just coming to your room. This arrived for you.” He held out a silver salver bearing a sealed note.
Andrew took the missive. His stomach tensed when he noted his name scrawled in Simon Wentworth’s cramped handwriting. Damn. He doubted his and Philip’s steward would be writing to impart good news. “Did the messenger say anything?”
“Only that the note was for you and that he did not require a reply. He’s already departed.”
“I see. Are Lady Catherine and Spencer about?”
“Master Spencer is on his way to take the waters. Lady Catherine requested a meal in her bedchamber. Breakfast is laid out in the dining room, sir.”
“Thank you. I need to read this correspondence first. I’ll be down shortly.”
Milton inclined his head, then headed back down the stairs, and Andrew returned to his bedchamber. After closing the door behind him, he broke the wax seal and quickly scanned the words.
Mr. Stanton,
I am writing to inform you that someone entered the museum last night, and I’m sorry to report that considerable damage was done. The magistrate believes that when the thief—or thieves—realized there were no artifacts yet housed in the museum, he became enraged and inflicted as much damage as he could. An ax was taken to the floor and walls, and every single one of the newly installed windows was broken. The magistrate doesn’t hold much hope that the scoundrel will be caught unless a witness comes forward with information. I’ll set the workmen up to repair the damages—no need for you to worry on that score, but I don’t have the experience to handle the investors, and I’m afraid their reactions are already not favorable. Lords Borthrasher and Kingsly were making inquiries, as well as Mrs. Warrenfield and a Mr. Carmichael. Therefore, I think it might be best if you returned to London as soon as possible. In the meanwhile, I will see about hiring on more workers. Per your instructions before you left London, I have not written to Lord Greybourne to inform him of anything regarding the museum.
Sincerely,
Simon Wentworth
Andrew blew out a long breath and raked his hand through his hair. In his mind’s eye he pictured the museum’s polished parquet flooring and richly paneled walls. And all those beautiful pane-glassed windows... Damn it to hell and back! All that work, destroyed. It made him sick inside. As did the thought of leaving Catherine, especially now. But he had no choice. And he had to tell her.
Slipping the note into his waistcoat pocket, he quietly departed his room.
Her skin still tingling from a warm bath, Catherine looked out her bedchamber window at the sun’s gentle morning glow reflecting silver off the dew-laden grass. Her gaze drifted toward the garden... toward the path that she and Andrew had followed last night.
Her eyes drifted closed. Vivid images flashed through her mind of how they’d spent the hours until just before dawn... intimately exploring each other’s bodies. Sharing the wine, bread, and cheese. Andrew feeding her strawberries. Laughing. Touching. Making love again, slowly, savoring every touch. Every look. Every kiss. Every stroke of his body deep inside hers.
For all the times she’d imagined being with a lover, for all the curiosity the Guide had planted in her mind, she’d never, not once, envisioned anything like last night. She’d always believed that one’s imagination could conjure up scenarios reality could never match.
She’d been horribly mistaken in that belief.
Imagination could not experience the wonder of Andrew’s lips and hands worshiping her, burning away everything, every thought, except him. The feel of her breasts crushed against hi
s warm, naked chest. The musky scent of their lovemaking surrounding them in the gazebo’s golden-lit, still air. The texture of his firm skin beneath her fingertips. And the sight of him...
A long, feminine sigh escaped her. Dear God, the sight of him, his strong, muscular body glistening in the flickering light, fully aroused. For her. By her. His eyes black with want. Hot with desire. Filled with a fierceness at complete odds with his gentle touch. His absorbed expression as he aroused her beyond bearing. Then the sensual, sated languor glowing in those eyes in the aftermath of their passion. His quick grin. His lovely smile. Yet behind his humor the heart-quickening heat simmering just below his surface.
Unfortunately, she suspected she was feeling more than simply heart-quickening heat for Andrew. And that was unacceptable. Disquieting. And most of all, frightening.
She wouldn’t, couldn’t allow herself to forget that this was temporary. She well knew the heartbreak associated with a permanent arrangement. And lest she forget...
She crossed to her wardrobe, then knelt to withdraw a small mahogany jewelry box she kept hidden in the far back corner beneath several blankets. She opened the lid and withdrew the ring inside. Rising, she stared at her diamond wedding ring resting in her palm. A flawless five carats of brilliance, surrounded by a dozen smaller stones, all equally perfect. A ring most women would covet. Sadly, she was not most women. She’d kept this painful reminder of the past so she’d never forget the emptiness that resulted from all its promises. One look at the jewel was a forceful reminder that she would not, could not allow one night of passion to cloud her common sense. Whatever these... feelings for Andrew were, she needed to push them aside. Forget them. They would enjoy a few more days together, then go their separate ways, leaving them both with lovely memories, but nothing more.
LOVE AND THE SINGLE HEIRESS Page 21