Tempting the Marquess

by Sara Lindsey

  He nodded solemnly. “Having you in my house has been a constant torment.”

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice.

  “Goose! I was teasing you. Though I will admit I’ve had to ease myself in the washroom a great deal more often since I met you.”

  “Because you have been drinking more?” she asked slowly, her expression puzzled.

  It took him a moment to understand her meaning, and then he had to fight to hold back his laughter. “While your presence has doubtless increased my consumption of spirits, I wasn’t using the washroom to relieve myself.”

  She regarded him blankly.

  “A man can, ah, ease himself if need be,” he explained. His cheeks burned and he had a horrible suspicion he was blushing like a green lad in the presence of a pretty girl.

  After a moment he saw the flash of recognition. Her blue eyes gleamed with excitement. “How?”

  He shook his head. “This isn’t the sort of thing that young ladies are supposed to know about.”

  “Don’t you dare turn all staid and proper, Jason Traherne. I am not some dainty creature to be protected and coddled.”

  “What if I want to protect and coddle you?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask someone else. Perhaps Charles will tell me.”

  Jason nearly choked envisioning his brother-in-law’s face upon hearing such a question.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said. Then he looked at the very stubborn set of her jaw and sighed. “You would, wouldn’t you? Very well, a man can relieve his, er, frustrations with his hand.”

  “I don’t understand. Women have hands. Why is it only men who can do this?”

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” he grumbled.

  The worst part was how aroused he was getting from such bawdy talk. She was insatiably curious. Or perhaps she was simply insatiable.

  “Women can do it, too,” he gritted out, trying hard not to think about her touching herself. Not, he was certain, that she would ever think of doing so. “It’s just easier for a man.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair.” Her tone was peevish.

  “Life rarely is,” he agreed.

  “Would you show me?”

  He swallowed hard, struggling for control.

  “Livvy, this is not the time for this conversation. You must get back to your own chamber.”

  She squinted at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Pooh, it’s only a little after four. Even the most diligent servant won’t be up until half past five.” She looked at him appraisingly. “It doesn’t take longer than that, does it?”

  He tried to laugh, but it was difficult. He was so hard he hurt. “My sweet, given the stimulating talk we’ve been having, I would probably last a couple minutes at most.”

  “Show me,” she demanded.

  “I—”

  He nearly shot out of the bed as her hand snaked under the sheets and curled around his cock.

  “Oh, God,” he croaked.

  “You’ve become quite the believer of late,” she noted, running her fingers up and down his length.

  “Jesus Christ,” he hissed.

  She grinned wickedly up at him, before removing her hand.

  “Show me,” she commanded.

  Jason knew there were reasons why he shouldn’t give in, but quite frankly he couldn’t think of a single one. Probably because there wasn’t any blood left in his head. It had all rushed south the moment she’d touched him.

  There was something important he’d needed to do. He frowned, trying to remember.

  Livvy noticed his frown and tensed. “I’m too wanton, aren’t I? I’ve disgusted you.”

  “No! No, pet, I adore your curiosity. It just makes it difficult for me to think.”

  “Really?” She nervously chewed her bottom lip.

  Oh, what the hell . . .

  He was going to give in to her eventually. He might as well do so with good grace. If this was something she wanted, he would have to be a complete idiot to refuse her.

  “Here, give me your hand. While my hand can do the job, yours is much nicer.”

  He wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and placed his hand over hers. He guided her hand up and down, showing her the speed and pressure he liked.

  “God, Livvy. Feels so good,” he told her between ragged breaths.

  Jason took his hand off of hers and lay back to watch her. He realized she was concentrating so hard on maintaining the exact rhythm he had set that she wasn’t enjoying herself.

  “You don’t have to do exactly what I showed you. This isn’t a thinking sort of activity. You have to let yourself go and just feel.”

  Her worry was palpable. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

  He reached out and cupped her cheek. “I will enjoy whatever you do. Your touch drives me wild. But this is like making love; you have to figure out what you like, what makes you feel good. Trust me, it all feels good to me, but it feels even better when the pleasure is shared.”

  “So I can touch you here?”

  She released his sex and trailed her hand down to the heavy sac between his thighs.

  “Yes,” he gritted out.

  She jerked her hand back. “You don’t sound as if you liked that.”

  “I liked it too much.”

  “Oh.” She considered this. “Should I do it again?”

  He groaned. “Livvy, we’re going to be here all morning at this rate. Give me your hand again. I’ll guide you.”

  He gazed into her eyes, watching the desire flare. He started slowly, but he knew he wouldn’t last long. His hips soon began to thrust in time with their strokes.

  Olivia let out a small moan. “Your ache might be getting better,” she complained, “but mine is getting worse.”

  “All in good time,” he panted, moving her hand faster beneath his. “Oh, God, Livvy, I need you to let go now.” Jason didn’t break eye contact as he pumped into his fist. With a low cry he felt his seed spurt forth, landing on his stomach. He collapsed back on the bed.

  “Are you all right?” Olivia asked with concern.

  He managed a grin. “Better than all right.” He raised himself up on his forearms and glanced at the clock. “Let me get washed up and we’ll see what we can do about that itch of yours.”

  Olivia jumped off the bed and ran to bring him a damp cloth from the washstand. He got up and cleaned himself off quickly, delighted by her eagerness. He had guessed she would be passionate, but he hadn’t thought it possible her sensual appetite might match his own. His lips curved. Yes, his faith in the Almighty had undergone a remarkable restoration.

  He turned and saw she was waiting for him. She was leaning back against the bedhead, her face flushed, her eyes dark with desire. He wished he had her artistic ability; if he could, he would paint her just like this.

  She held out her arm, and he climbed onto the bed, taking the proffered hand. When he tried to release it, she thrust it back in his face and waved it around.

  “Here’s my hand,” she said.

  Jason had no clue what to make of her statement. “Er, yes, that is your hand.”

  “Well, don’t you need it?”

  “Need it?” he echoed.

  She looked at him as if he were a simpleton, which was ironic as she was the one who had clearly lost her wits.

  “Yes.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “You said women could ease themselves with their hands. If I knew how to do this, I would hardly have waited for your assistance. Therefore I am giving you my hand so that you can instruct me.”

  She said this with such a combination of earnestness and annoyance that Jason could not contain his mirth.

  “No, sweet, I’m not laughing at you. Well, I am, but only because your innocence is so charming. All you need to do is touch yourself and learn what you like, but I think in the interest of time, I’ll help you feel better in a different way.”

  “How?” she asked susp
iciously.

  Jason grinned. “I think it’s time I become better acquainted with your female part.”

  Livvy clapped her hands over her breasts.

  Jason shook his head. “Your other female part.”

  Her heart started pounding. She felt the throbbing beat echoing through her body start to settle at the juncture of her thighs.

  “I th-thought you got acquainted with that p-part last night,” she stammered nervously.

  He leaned closer. “Not,” he whispered, “with my mouth.”

  She was going to faint. He wanted to kiss her there? And did that mean she could kiss his man part?

  He mistook her silence as hesitation.

  “I thought you wanted to be wicked with me.”

  No man should be allowed to have a voice that seductive. He was like a masculine version of a siren. She was powerless to resist the lure of that low, husky tone.

  “All right, but you’ll stop if I say I don’t like it?”

  His smile was unabashedly smug.

  “Of course, but I don’t foresee that happening.”

  Livvy didn’t either, but what he was suggesting was so scandalous she felt she ought to put up at least a token resistance. She owed it to all her mother’s years of trying to instill a sense of propriety in her children. So far she had been spectacularly unsuccessful.

  The rules of propriety didn’t seem to apply to boys in quite the same way as they did to girls, but even so, Henry was, well, Henry.

  Isabella had always been a bit wild, but the events leading up to her marriage had been outrageous even for her.

  And now she, the hitherto good child (or at least the not-quite-as-bad child), was acting like some shameless hussy and loving every sinful second of it.

  She reached for Jason, pulling him on top of her. She loved the weight of him pressing her into the bed. She began to notice other little pleasures she had missed the night before, like the way the dark hairs on his chest tickled and teased her breasts.

  He took her mouth in a slow, lingering kiss. Her blood had been simmering, but now it began to boil.

  “Jason,” she pleaded, digging her fingers into his shoulders, trying to convey her urgency. She felt wretchedly full, yet somehow empty. The tension between her legs went from uncomfortable to unbearable.

  She arched her hips up against him, trying to relieve the ache. Her frustration mounted. He had been all but rushing before, so why this slow torture?

  He must have sensed she had reached her limit, since he began sliding down her body, kissing the column of her throat, nipping lightly at each breast, and then licking a path down to her navel.

  “Open for me,” he commanded, urging her legs apart.

  A wicked chill ran through her as she obeyed. She had never guessed that being so bad would make her feel so good. And Jason was about to make her feel even better.

  Her breath rushed out of her in a shaky exhale as he settled between her thighs. Oh, Lord, he hadn’t even started and she was already so close to that magical place he’d taken her last night.

  “Jason,” she begged, as he rubbed his face against the inside of her thigh. The scratchy growth of his beard abraded her tender flesh. She moaned and let her head fall back against the pillows. She was going to explode if he waited much longer.

  “All right, pet.” His voice sounded rough and he was breathing hard. “I think you’re ready.”

  She was going to kill him.

  He only just now thought she was ready?!

  All this endless, exquisite agony was because he thought she wasn’t ready?

  She opened her mouth to tell him just how ready she was, but it turned to a silent scream as he licked her.

  One sweep of his tongue was all that it took.

  The rhythmic contractions started deep inside her and spread all over. She was shaking and crying, overwhelmed by the intensity of her release.

  Jason came up beside her and pulled her onto his lap, cradling her in his arms. “Sweetheart, please, tell me you’re all right.”

  She nodded, collapsing against him with a shuddering sigh. A warm golden glow was spreading over her body, and her limbs felt like they had lead weights tied to them. She yawned and tucked herself into his chest. This seemed like a very good place to go to sleep.

  “Do not fall asleep now, Olivia Jane Weston,” Jason said loudly against her ear. “You can sleep for the rest of the day if you like, but it has to be in your bed.”

  Livvy grumbled, but she knew he was right. She allowed herself to be pulled from the bed. A rust-colored stain marred the snowy linens.

  Jason pulled the sheet off the bed and shoved it into a wooden trunk by the foot of the bed.

  “I’ll dispose of it later,” he said.

  “But won’t the maids think it odd that the sheet is missing?”

  “I am a marquess. I am allowed to be odd.”

  She laughed, and then frowned. “What am I to wear? You threw my breeches out the window last night.”

  “The shirt you were wearing last night should cover you adequately,” he said, gathering up her boots, stockings, and garters. “I suppose you had best take my jacket as well. Dimpsey is acting as my valet and nothing gets past him.”

  They made their way upstairs in absolute silence, encountering no one. After one last kiss, Olivia went in her room and climbed into bed. Although she had slept alone for years, after just one night with Jason the bed felt big and empty.

  It wouldn’t be empty much longer.

  She still couldn’t believe she was marrying Jason. She had been worried by his sudden change of heart regarding the matrimonial state, but he had set her mind at ease when he’d told her that last night had changed everything. Obviously he was referring to his talk with Charles.

  Oh, she had known, she had just known, that once he learned Laura had been true, his faith in love would be restored. She didn’t even mind that he hadn’t told her he loved her. The words would come in time, and until then every kiss and tender look that passed between them assured her of his affections.

  How foolish it seemed that she had once believed she would be content with marrying a man so long as his manners and hygiene were tolerably good. Jason’s manners still had some room for improvement, but he was clean. And she loved him.

  She had never allowed herself to imagine that she would find a man to love. That was the stuff of novels. Of course, her life was playing out rather like a novel of late.

  She fell asleep with a foolish grin on her face, and when she woke several hours later, a glance in the mirror showed that it was still there. She tried to frown, but the muscles in her face refused to obey. She skipped down to the drawing room, where she found her aunt and Jason in conversation. They broke off when they caught sight of her, and Aunt Kate came forward to embrace her.

  “Oh, my dear, I am so delighted for you both.”

  She pulled back and took a long look at Livvy’s face, and then turned to Jason. “I see you gave me an expurgated version of the events last night.”

  Heat rose up in Olivia’s cheeks, proclaiming her guilt.

  “Ah, well, you are to be married, so there’s no great harm done.” She rubbed her hands together. “I can’t begin to tell you how excited I am to begin planning. I was most put out to have missed your sister’s wedding, though it was not the happy occasion this will be. Oh, I can already see you coming down the aisle of St. Paul’s.”

  “Actually, I would like to be married at home,” Livvy said. “If that is agreeable to Jason, of course.”

  He sent her a heated glance. “I don’t care where it is, so long as it’s soon.”

  “My dear boy, these things take time,” Aunt Kate began.

  Jason held up one finger. “You may have a month. One.”

  “But—”

  “If I had my way it would be one week,” he said. He took Livvy’s hand. “Is a month enough time for you to do whatever it is women do before weddings?”

 
“I think so. My mother arranged my sister’s wedding practically overnight.”

  “Good.” He squeezed her fingers. “That’s settled then. Now, here is what I propose . . .”

  Chapter 18

  “Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.”

  Twelfth Night, Act I, Scene 5

  Weston Manor, Essex

  Three Weeks, Six Days Later

  The day before her wedding, Olivia found herself sitting in the front parlor, keeping close watch for a gentleman other than her intended. She had not seen Charles since that fateful night, and she had felt his absence keenly. She had said as much to her aunt a fortnight ago when they, along with Livvy’s mother and three of her sisters, went to Chelmsford to shop for new gowns for the wedding. They were looking through the gowns the modiste had on hand, for the woman, in a terribly dramatic and dramatically terrible French accent, assured Livvy’s mother, “For zee right price, all zat is in zee shop can be had and altered in time for zee happy occasion.”

  Aunt Kate called her over to see an exquisite white muslin chemise dress with flowers embroidered in silk and gold around the bodice and hem. Olivia agreed that the gown was beautiful but, she said, “It’s a man’s opinion I need now. I don’t want to look pretty so much as I want to look irresistible and ravishing. It is too bad of Charles to have gone off without a word to anyone.”

  “Perhaps it is for the best,” Aunt Kate suggested gently. “Now, come have a look at—”

  “You seem rather calm about his disappearance,” Livvy noted, eyeing her aunt with suspicion. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with it, would you?”

  “I merely sent round a note about your upcoming nuptials.”

  “And did this note suggest Charles keep his distance for a time?”

  The flush staining her aunt’s cheeks had answered for her.

  “Oh, Aunt Kate, how could you, especially given all he has done to see me and Jason happy?”

  “My dear, has it not occurred to you that Charles’s presence would likely rouse painful memories both for him and for Jason? This marriage is a great move forward for my stepson, but not a particularly easy one, I think. In order to take this next step, he had to force himself into a position of having to do the honorable thing, which tells me he has not yet come fully to terms with his feelings for you. Do not misunderstand me, for I truly believe Jason wants to marry you. He would not have compromised you otherwise, nor would I have allowed him to do so—”