Nicola Cornick - [Bluestocking Brides 04]

by The Secrets of a Courtesan

  The breath caught in Eve’s throat. She looked at him. He was watching the embers of the fire and his gaze was somber.

  “I regret it more than I can tell you,” he said. “There are no excuses, but I want to explain. I want you to understand.” Then, as she inclined her head he continued: “To my eternal shame, I was so angry with you, Eve, angry and bitter. I should have told Hawkesbury what to do with his commission but when I heard that he had found you all I could think of was to see you again so that I could prove to myself that you no longer had any power over me.” He looked up, took her hand, his grip painfully tight. “I think that I feared becoming like my father,” he said softly. “His divorce case was so scandalous and sordid. It broke him. I was only ten years old but I saw the change in him. And then he died when I was barely eighteen and I knew my mother’s betrayal had killed him in the end.” He intertwined his fingers with hers, looking down at their linked hands. “I was furious that I had almost made the same mistake myself.”

  He shifted, his fingers tightening painfully on hers. “Hawkesbury was able to use me because of that fear and resentment,” he said, “and in return I used you.”

  “I understand,” Eve said. Her voice was thick with tears for the boy who had seen his father broken and betrayed and for the young man who had had to step into his shoes at so young an age and take on all a grown man’s responsibilities. “It does not matter, Rowarth,” she said. “We have both made mistakes. It is all done now.”

  Rowarth was still holding her hand, his thumb stroking in distracting circles over her palm. “No, it is not,” he said, and Eve shivered because she knew what was coming. “Tell me what happened to you, Eve. Why did you run? I do not believe what you told me before. I know that you loved me, so why did you leave me?”

  The grief and the misery wrenched at Eve’s heart. She looked up and met his eyes and saw nothing but compassion there, all anger spent.

  “I cannot tell you,” she said. “Oh, Rowarth, don’t ask me. Please don’t ask me.”

  His hand came up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You’re afraid,” he said softly. His fingers touched her cheek with aching tenderness, cradling her. “Eve, I have to tell you that Miles Vickery told me something tonight that I never knew. He saw you on the day you left. He had come to call on me and he saw Dr. Culpepper leaving, too.”

  Eve went very still. Icy shivers chased over her skin. Rowarth’s words had conjured all the fear and misery of those last days. She struggled to keep the horrible memories locked in the box where they belonged. She sat silent, her heart breaking.

  “Eve…” Rowarth was gentle but relentless and she knew he would not give up now, not until he had the truth. She felt trapped. Could she relinquish half the secret, explain a little while keeping those worst, darkest and most devastating of memories safely locked away? She was terrified; she could never tell the worst of it. Even now it would destroy her.

  “Were you ill?” Rowarth asked. “Eve, please—”

  Eve gave a little hiccup between laughter and tears. “I was not ill. I was pregnant.”

  There was a moment’s silence while Rowarth thought about this. “Did you leave because you thought I would not want our child?” His voice was rough. “Surely you knew me better than that? You knew I wished to marry you—” He broke off as Eve shook her head violently.

  “It was not that,” she said. “I lost the baby, Rowarth. I had a miscarriage. I lost our child and I could not bear it.”

  To her enormous relief he did not press her any further but gathered her close, brushing the hair away from her face as she cried now, unable to help herself. He murmured endearments to her, his arms as strong as steel bands about her.

  “My darling…that you should have had to suffer that and I was not there for you…”

  The warmth of his touch, the bliss of being in his arms after so many barren years, was too much for Eve. Suddenly she desperately wanted to deny the past, forget it and lose herself in this moment. She knew that she and Rowarth could not go back, that too much had happened to force them apart, but she wanted to hold on to this night forever. In the warm intimacy of this tiny room with the door closed against the world and the future, she could fool herself for a little while that she could recapture what they had had.

  “I don’t want to talk about the past,” she said, pressing her fingers to her lips. “I want to spend this one night with you, Rowarth, and forget about all else.”

  Rowarth went very still at her words. He held himself under absolute control, aching to touch her, hold her and kiss her to within an inch of her life. His body had sprung into almost instant hardness at the images her words conjured. To lie with Eve again, to rediscover the pleasure they could give one another, to hear her soft cries and take her with all the lust and tenderness and regret that was in his soul…But that was not enough. It would never be enough.

  “Just the one night?” he asked.

  “Yes.” The firelight shimmered on some expression in her eyes that he could not understand. “We both know that there cannot be anything else for us, Rowarth.”

  He would take issue with that, Rowarth thought. Not long ago he might have thought that one night with Eve would be sufficient to sate his need for her and lay to rest the ghosts of the past. Now he knew that it could never be enough. His future would be a desert if Eve were not a part of it. The idea of her walking away from him again in a day, two days, and never seeing her again was intolerable.

  His. The possessive desire almost floored him. She had always been his, from the first moment he had seen her, and she would be his again. They had lost each other a little along the way but soon, very soon, they could wash away the loneliness and grief he had seen in her, and the bitterness and revenge that had been in him. And then he would never let her go again.

  Eve moved closer to him, which brought her into his arms, and raised her face to his so that he could kiss her. He was within an inch of forgetting everything except his need for her. With a groan he lowered his mouth to hers and she opened her lips to him and he tasted her, hot, sweet, as seductive as she had always been except that his desire for her was so much more potent now. His tongue grazed hers and she gave a little whimper of pleasure. He scooped her up in his arms, still kissing her, his only thought now to take her to bed and claim her once and for all as his own.

  Eve stood on the rug before the fire in her bedroom, shivering. She was terrified. She had gone this far, recklessly, on emotion alone, and now a part of her was excited, wanting to luxuriate in the wonderful, wicked pleasure of rediscovering Rowarth’s touch, but she was also nervous, as gauche as a debutante.

  He had carried her through to the bedroom and placed her gently on her feet but now he did not touch her. The anticipation and the anxiety thrummed through Eve like a wire. She had thought he wanted her with a hunger that matched her own.

  “If you have changed your mind then let us forget the whole matter.” It was her pride talking because she could not bear for him to reject her now, after all that they had been through.

  He moved then, so fast that she was taken by surprise, catching her hand and drawing her close.

  “I have not changed my mind.” His voice was amused but with a rough edge to it now and the excitement flickered through her blood like sheet lightning to hear it. “I wanted you from the first moment I saw you again and I knew this would happen.”

  “How arrogant of you.” How she loved that confidence in him.

  Rowarth put a hand under her chin. His eyes scanned her face, eyes so warm, so tender. Eve shivered again, this time with longing as well as fear. She had always known deep down that she still loved Rowarth and tonight she did not want to think about the future. She wanted to banish the darkness, at least for a little while.

  He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and Eve felt her body quiver in response.

  “You’re nervous.” His voice was low. “I swear I will not hurt you.”

/>   “I am not afraid of you,” she corrected him. At least there would be no physical consequences for her; there could not be when she could no longer bear a child. “It’s been a very long time for me,” she said.

  Five years…

  Tenderness warmed his eyes. “Then we shall do this very slowly and stop whenever you wish.”

  “I don’t think I am likely to want that,” she murmured.

  He was smiling and suddenly, fiercely, she wanted to kiss that smiling mouth, to taste him and lose herself in him.

  “May I kiss you?” he murmured.

  So sweet to be asked when most men would simply take.

  “Please do…” Her voice was husky. His mouth took hers deeply, fiercely, his tongue tangling with hers in intimate dance. Her skin came alive beneath his hands, recognizing him in the most elemental way, tingling with the need to be close with no barriers between them. She freed herself from his ardent grip only so that she could undress him, eager now, her fingers slipping a little in her haste. She unfastened his stock and then the neck of his shirt, and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss on the hot skin at the base of his throat. A groan rumbled in his chest. She could feel the pulse there beating against her lips with the same rhythm as his heart. His hand went to unbutton his coat and waistcoat. Eve was fascinated to see that he was shaking. He shrugged himself out of the garments and tossed them aside. They hit the bed and slithered to the floor.

  He caught her about the waist to press another kiss on her lips. Heat spiraled through Eve, twisting and tightening. Sweet desire flooded her down to the tips of her toes.

  “Let me finish…” She pressed her palm against his chest and felt the warmth of his body through the material of his shirt “…or I will never get you out of these clothes.”

  He made a sound like a growl. “Be quick then.”

  Eve laughed. “I used to think that you were a patient man.”

  Again she reached up to kiss him, full of feminine power and a bubbling happiness that took her by surprise. It was so long since she had felt like this. Joy and discovery, excitement and nervousness all mingled within her and made her feel honey-soft inside. She freed his shirt from the waistband of his pantaloons and burrowed underneath, fanning her hands out against his stomach. His muscles rippled against her fingers. He caught his breath and ripped the shirt over his head. Eve stared as the firelight turned his body golden and bronze, smooth, hard and sculpted. Beautiful. Time had not altered the physical perfection she remembered so well.

  Her throat dried. She reached out to him but he was too quick for her, picking her up to lay her on the thick rug before the fire. His hands traveled over her, easing the gown from her, unlacing her stays with quick, practiced movements, taking her chemise from her so that she was naked but for her stockings. Eve was quiescent and still, her breath coming rapidly, her eyes fixed on his face where she saw intent concentration and desire distilled.

  “Ah…” His eyes went almost black with lust as he exposed her body to his gaze. He sat back on his heels, a flush of arousal along his cheekbones. He had, she noticed, an enormous erection that his pantaloons could barely contain.

  “Turn over.”

  He rolled her onto her stomach. Her breasts, so full and sensitive now, brushed against the soft caress of the rug and she groaned. He leaned over her to press kisses up her spine and over the line of her shoulders. Her nipples hardened, her entire body alive and prickling with arousal. He licked a path down her spine again, his hot, wicked tongue spiraling over her skin, and Eve moaned. When his hands swept up her thighs she allowed her legs to fall open and felt the coolness of the air against her flesh.

  “Leave the stockings,” she managed to say, as she felt his fingers on her garter, and she heard him laugh. The rough edge to the tone made her heart beat in double time. His caresses rose higher, stealing over her in a seductive circling motion that made the heat pool deep within her, until he reached the softest skin of her inner thighs. His fingers grazed her cleft and she cried out, the sensation blazing through her even as her body grasped for more. His hand was on her hip and he rolled her over so that she was staring up, dazzled by sensual need, into the hard, hot glitter of his eyes.

  “I want to see you…” His words were low and harsh. “You always were so very beautiful…I want to touch every part of you…”

  Eve felt very beautiful, worshipped and adored for the first time in five long years. There was reverence in the way Rowarth touched her, as though she was exquisitely precious, and awe in the way that he looked at her.

  At last he moved to unfasten his pantaloons and his erection sprang free of the constraint, thick and hard. He lay beside Eve on the rug and started to kiss her all over again, his hands holding her still as he ravished her mouth deeply, his fingers tangling in her hair. He dropped his head to her breasts and skimmed his tongue over the sensitive underside and up to the nipple, licking and sucking, wrenching a gasp from her lips that was half moan, half plea. She wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her now and she reached for him, but he held off, making her wait.

  “Patience…” There was amusement in his voice. “I want you to really want me…”

  Oh, she did. She thought she would die of the wanting.

  He trailed kisses across the curve of her stomach and she felt her muscles jump and clench. She arched, raising her hips, begging now.

  “Darling Eve…” His voice was a dark whisper. “You have always been mine.” He moved between her thighs and hung there poised for what felt like the longest moment of her life. The emotion strung out between them, fierce and tight and impossibly tense, and then he slid into her, claiming her, so smooth and deep that she cried out.

  Her body shifted to accommodate him as he thrust with strong, slow strokes. Already the pleasure was building within her, shimmering and tantalizing just out of reach. She wanted more. She wanted to explode.

  “Faster, if you please…” She dug her fingers into his buttocks to pull him even tighter inside and felt his body jerk in response.

  “So polite…” His breathing was ragged. He obliged her by plunging deeper and harder, driving her higher and higher as she smoothed her hands down his back to encourage him on and bit his shoulder in an agony of need and ecstasy. She had lost all coherent thought, everything drowning in pure pleasure and the absolute necessity of fulfillment. And then her body clenched and she came with a blissful, dazzling intensity. Fireworks exploded in her head, flooding her mind with light. Her body clasped his in helpless spasm, and she held him and heard him call her name as he, too, fell into the deepest languor and pleasure. Past, present and future collided in the most perfect reunion.

  In the aftermath she felt him draw her close, tucking her into the curve of his arm as though she was the most precious thing on earth, her head on his shoulder and the beat of his heart against hers, and it felt like coming home.

  Eve woke to see the light flooding the room and to feel a quick, uncomplicated joy. Rowarth was lying beside her, his arm about her waist in casual possession, his legs tangled with hers. She could smell his skin, at once familiar and exciting. Her body quickened again and she shifted, feeling the ache inside that was the aftermath of bliss and the promise of pleasure to come. It had been so perfect. She had never imagined it would be like that again.

  The happiness fled. The loss she had staved off the previous night came flooding back, filling the emptiness within her soul with its bitter harvest. She had gone into this knowing that she loved him but that she could never keep him. Not Rowarth, with his responsibilities and his obligations, not least amongst which was his need to produce an heir for his dukedom with some suitable, blue-blooded, fertile aristocrat. She had borrowed him for one last night, loving him too much to deny either of them. And now she would have to give him up because that was the only thing to do.

  “Sweetheart…” He was stirring. He stroked a palm over the soft skin of her stomach. He sounded happy. Another crack appeared in
her heart.

  He rolled over, looked at her, and at the expression in his eyes she felt sudden acute apprehension. Her heart was thumping. She knew he was going to ask her to be his mistress again and she was so sorely tempted to agree. To have Alasdair Rowarth in her life again, even if it was only for a little while…Would she sacrifice the independence she had achieved here and all she had worked for in order to be with him? And could she watch him wed another woman and produce an heir when she had thought once that she would be his wife and she knew that she loved him more than anyone else ever could?

  “I once asked you to be my wife, Eve,” Rowarth said. “Now I am asking you again. Will you marry me?”

  “Oh, no!” Eve could not quite bite back the words in time. This really was a disaster. She had not imagined, not dreamed, that this could happen. And of course it was utterly impossible, for all the same reasons that it had been before.

  Rowarth was looking quizzical and a little chagrined at her outburst.

  “I did not think the idea would be so abhorrent to you,” he said.

  “I thought you were going to ask me to be your mistress again,” Eve said helplessly.

  Rowarth did not look pleased. In fact he looked most forbidding. “That position is not on offer.”

  Oh, dear. She knew she had offended him. No, she had hurt him. She could see it in his eyes. She loved him so much that it made her want to cry, she who had once thought herself as hard as diamonds. “I…I cannot.” Her heart was breaking piece by little piece. She wanted to explain why, but it hurt so much to open up those final dark secrets that she did not think she could force out the words. Besides, she could not bear to see his face when he knew the truth and to hear him retract his proposal. Like her, he knew that a man, a duke, needed an heir to his dukedom. He cared for Welburn so much, had done so since his youth with both a sense of responsibility and a deep love. It would be imperative for him to pass on that love and that duty to the next generation.