by Eva Shepherd
He spotted the dark form of a tenant, hiding behind a tree, a shotgun under his arm. The man was presumably out poaching. Well, good luck to him. He presumably had a family to feed and was using some initiative. Oliver tipped his hand to his head in a gesture of greeting as he quickly passed. He smiled at the thought of the man’s surprise. He must make a ludicrous sight, the lord of the manor, dressed in formal evening wear, all but running around his estate in the middle of the night.
He slowed down and headed back towards the house, physical exhaustion starting to overcome him. Hopefully this would not be a regular occurrence. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to spend every night running around his estate like a mad man. As soon as Arabella found employment as an actress she would be out of his house, out of his life. That would make her happy and her absence, while perhaps not making him happy, precisely, would most certainly be the best for both of them.
He entered the house and headed up the stairs to his bedroom. After such exercise he could only hope that he would now be able to sleep, that he would not lie in bed, awake, thinking of the woman lying in bed in the room next to his, with only an adjoining door between them.
Instead of calling for his valet, he undressed alone, drew on his robe and paced the room, his body still agitated. It seemed sleep wasn’t going to come. He walked over to the window and stared out at the estate, lying in quiet darkness. The sooner she left Somerfeld Manor the better. Until then he was going to have to learn to endure this torture.
What was it that someone said, in one of Oscar Wilde’s plays? That they could resist anything except temptation. Much to Oliver’s annoyance, that applied equally to him. Resisting temptation was something he had such little practice at.
A creaking noise behind him interrupted his thoughts. He turned and saw his wife standing in the doorway. Wearing a white nightgown, her long black hair flowing freely, she was temptation itself. One Oliver knew it would take a man much stronger than him to resist.
Chapter Fifteen
It had taken every ounce of self-confidence Arabella possessed to turn the door handle to the adjoining room. And now here she was, standing in his bedroom, staring up at him, and it was taking even more strength to stay and not flee back to her own room.
When she had seen the light from his lamp appear under the door, she knew she did not want to spend another night staring at that light and wondering. She did not want to lie in bed thinking about him, wishing and wanting. So, she had got out of bed and opened his door. But she hadn’t thought about what she would do once she was in his room.
He continued to stare at her, not moving from the window. He was dressed in a loosely tied maroon robe and her gaze was drawn to his muscular chest, visible at the robe’s opening. He was naked underneath. She gulped, her startled gaze moving back up to his face.
Surely he would take some action. Do something. Not just stand there. Surely he knew why she was here. Was that all he was going to do? Just stay exactly where he was, staring at her? It seemed it was.
Her heart thumping loudly against her chest, she gasped in a series of breaths to give herself courage. If he wasn’t going to do anything, then she would have to. She placed her hands at her neckline, closed her eyes and pulled at the laces holding the front of her nightgown together.
‘What are you doing, Arabella?’ he asked, his voice thick and constricted.
Instead of answering she continued to fumble at her laces with clumsy fingers.
He crossed the room, took hold of her hands and stilled the action. ‘Arabella, I’ve told you. I don’t seduce virgins.’
She pulled in another deep breath and spoke as clearly as she possibly could. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not seducing me. I’m seducing you.’ Well, that was what she was trying to do, but it was a bit difficult when she couldn’t even unlace her nightgown.
She looked up at him, praying she would not see him laughing at her. Instead there was an unmistakable look of passion burning in his eyes. Passion for her. She had not been wrong. The way he had spoken to her over dinner, the things he had said to her, the way he had behaved had all led her to think he wanted her. And the look in his eyes confirmed that. It was the same as she had seen before he kissed her, the same as when he’d stared at her with such hunger earlier today.
‘Arabella, are you sure?’
She nodded. Of course she was sure. She had never been more sure of anything in her life. ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
He lifted her fingers to his lips. ‘You know what sort of man I am. I can’t offer you commitment, I can’t offer you fidelity.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not asking you for either of those things.’
He lowered her hands and held them close against his chest, so close she could feel his heart pounding, could sense the tension in his body. His eyes never left hers and the intent of that look was undeniable. He most certainly wasn’t laughing at her. He was looking at her as if he wanted to devour her. And that was exactly what Arabella wanted him to do.
That look in his eye making her bold, she smiled up at him, teasingly. ‘I’m just a married woman who wants some fun.’
His lips slowly curled into that mischievous smile she loved so much. ‘Well, in that case, my dear, let’s have some fun.’
His hands slid around her waist, pulling her towards him. His kiss was gentle, but that was not what she wanted. She wanted him to kiss her the way he had when he’d burst into her dressing room. That kiss had possessed her, taken her over, caused her to lose herself, to forget everything and everyone around her until she’d kissed him back in front of everyone. And she wanted him to more than just kiss her now. Did he still require permission? Then she would give it to him. She wrapped her hands around his neck, running her hands through his thick blond hair and holding him tightly against her.
Parting her lips, she kissed him back, her body hard up against him, the touch of his naked skin against her breasts, her legs against his, letting him know she wanted him to deepen the kiss.
His grip on her waist tightened and he pulled her possessively towards him, his fierce kiss crashing over her, hard, demanding, potent.
Yes, this was what she wanted. She released a quiet moan of pleasure as his tongue entered her mouth, plundering, probing. Her body melted into his. Oh, yes, this was most definitely what she wanted. This was why she had risked everything and entered his room.
His hand slid down from her waist, cupping her buttocks. Every inch of her body pulsated for him, ached for him. Her mind going blank, she clasped him tighter, her swelling breasts rubbing against his muscular chest, wanting to feel his skin against hers, his body surrounding her, his hands caressing her.
He stepped back from her and desperation gripped her. No. He could not be stopping now. She would not let him. She looked up at him, her confused mind trying to formulate the words that would make him kiss her again.
‘Raise your arms above your head,’ he said, his voice a low growl.
Arabella followed his command and in one swift movement he lifted up her nightgown, pulled it off her body and tossed it to the side of the room. She was now standing naked in front of him.
Any fleeting embarrassment was swept away when his lips found hers again, kissing her, devouring her.
Still kissing her, he lifted her up in one smooth movement and carried her over to his bed. Placing her carefully in the middle, he stood back, looked down at her and smiled.
‘You really are beautiful, Arabella. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And this is how I imagined seeing you from the very first time I laid eyes on you.’
Lying naked in front of him, Arabella knew she should be feeling embarrassed. But she didn’t. He had wanted her in his bed from the moment he had first seen her. That admission sent a heady wave tingling through her body and any residual shyness evaporated. H
e desired her, had always desired her. And right now, with him looking at her with such fierce passion, that was exactly how she felt—desirable.
His robe dropped to the ground and it was now her turn to admire his body. And it was a body worthy of admiration. Her gaze took in the firm, strong muscles of his chest and his flat hard stomach, with a scattering of dark hairs drawing her gaze down his body. And if she had any remaining doubt of his desire for her, she no longer did. His desire was standing, firm and hard in front of her.
Her eyes returned to his and she saw that devilish smile on his lips. He had seen where her gaze had travelled.
Arabella bit the edge of her lip and smiled back at him. ‘So, are you going to show me some of that fun you promised?’
He laughed lightly and joined her on the bed. ‘Happy to oblige.’
Arabella arched towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, longing to feel his touch. He smiled down at her and watched her reaction as his hands moved slowly over her sensitive skin. His fingers lightly ran over her stomach and up her ribcage. A low groan escaped her lips and she closed her eyes, surrendering herself to the sensation of his touch.
His hand reached her breasts. He cupped each one in turn and his thumb moved over the now achingly tight buds. She writhed on the bed as his hands tormented her nipples. A pounding deep within her core possessed her body and her moans came louder, faster, her mind and body consumed by his caresses. When he leant down and took one nipple in his mouth it felt as if she was about to die from pleasure. His tongue rasped over the stiff nub, licking, sucking. Her moans became cries of ecstasy. Louder and louder, in time to the rhythm of his tongue.
His hand slid down her body and moved between her legs. She felt his fingers gently stroke along her folds and enter her most intimate of places. His palm pressed between her legs, intensifying the throbbing that was engulfing her, while his lips continued to tease and torment her nipples. Surrendering herself to the experience, she rubbed herself against him, her back instinctively arched, matching his rhythm, increasing the pleasure, a pleasure that kept mounting, growing, intensifying until a forceful, ecstatic wave crashed over her. She released a loud, shuddering cry and collapsed back on the bed.
When she opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her. She blinked away a few tears that had sprung to her eyes and smiled back at him. ‘That was...that was...’ She couldn’t think of the words.
‘So, do you want some more of that?’ he asked gently.
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’
He kissed her again and she melted into his kiss. His tongue entered her mouth and she once again savoured the masculine taste of him, inhaling that wonderful musky scent she loved so much. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders, moving down his strong back, loving the feel of his hard muscles under her fingers, then down to those firm tight buttocks.
But she wanted more than his kisses, more than his caresses.
She withdrew from his lips and lifted herself up towards him. ‘Make love to me, Oliver,’ she urged.
He hugged her closer, his chest hard against hers. ‘I don’t want to cause you any pain, Bella.’
‘You won’t. I want this, Oliver.’ She rubbed the inside of her thigh against his leg and smiled at his quick intake of breath. Unable to stop herself, even if she wanted to, Arabella parted her legs and arched her body towards him.
‘Make love to me, now, Oliver.’
He did not need to be asked again. He wrapped her in his arms, his strong thighs moving between hers. As if under their own command, her legs wrapped themselves around his waist. She felt the tip of him at the edge of her feminine folds, but still he hesitated.
‘Stop me at any time, Bella,’ he murmured.
But Arabella knew she would not stop him, could not stop him. He pushed himself slowly into her. She gasped out loudly, but in pleasure, not pain. Slowly he withdrew and even more slowly he entered her again, watching her carefully as he did so. She cried out in pleasure and clasped his buttocks tightly, pushing him towards her, letting him know this was what she wanted.
She looked up into his eyes. Concern was now gone, replaced by a look of primal hunger, a hunger that only intensified her need for him. He entered her more deeply and she cried out his name, urging him on. He responded immediately, pushing into her again and again, deeper, harder.
With each stroke her cries became louder, her body moving against his, in time to his thrusting rhythm.
Her eyes closed, she lost herself to the sensations swelling up inside her, taking her higher and higher, until they reached a pitch of intensity that was almost more than she could bear and a convulsive shudder whipped through her, causing her to dig her fingers into his buttocks and cry out, before collapsing back on to the bed. Just as her body went limp, she felt his heart suddenly pound harder against her sweat-slickened breasts. He muttered her name on a soft moan and pulled out from her just before he released himself.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, they held each other tightly while their panting breaths slowed down and Arabella could hardly believe that such a feeling of fulfilment was possible.
When his breath returned to normal, Oliver lifted himself up on to one arm, smiled down at her and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, Duchess, but personally I feel thoroughly seduced.’
Arabella laughed, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he kissed her once again.
Chapter Sixteen
Oliver gazed down at his sleeping wife, at her long black eyelashes resting on her soft, porcelain-cream skin, at her full red lips, swollen from his repeated kisses. She looked so angelic in repose, but last night there had been nothing angelic about her behaviour. He smiled at the memory of her standing in the doorway, dressed only in her nightgown. The light from behind her had made the gown almost translucent and he had been able to see the outline of her beautiful body, those luscious curves and long, shapely legs.
It had taken a level of iron willpower he didn’t know he possessed to not move, to not cross the room and rip off that nightgown so he could feast on her beauty. Like a mantra he had kept reciting to himself, again and again, You do not seduce virgins, you do not seduce virgins in order to keep himself fixed to the spot.
But even iron can bend if exposed to a high enough temperature. And his iron willpower had been unable to withstand the fury of the heat generated when she had whispered those words in his ear, ‘You’re not seducing me, I’m seducing you’.
He ran his finger gently down the side of her face and curled a strand of her long black hair around his finger. She had made it clear to him that he was not taking advantage of her innocence. She had given him permission to stop fighting his attraction to her and to give vent to the surging passion that had been building up inside him like a volcano.
And he had discovered his initial assessment of her had been correct. When he had kissed her on the night they had first met he had suspected there was a well of untapped passion simmering within her, just waiting to be ignited.
And last night he had definitely stoked those fires. They had made love repeatedly. Each time she had become more adventurous, continually surprising him, and her appetite had been as ravenous as his own.
Last night had been unlike anything he had experienced with a woman. The intensity, the passion, the intimacy, it had been utterly intoxicating. And like a drug that had entered his bloodstream and taken him over, he had craved more, much more.
Why he should have experienced such a strength of feeling he had no idea. He couldn’t be that cliché, a man who became puffed up with masculine pride because he was a woman’s first lover. Could he?
Oliver knew it wasn’t that. Was it because Arabella was so different from any other woman he had known?
He continued to gaze at her lovely face. She had a delicate beauty, but that disguised a str
ength of character that was admirable.
Her determination to succeed on the stage, to carve out a life of her own, despite being the daughter of an extremely wealthy man, made her unique in his world. He knew no other woman, or man for that matter, who was prepared to forgo all that wealth could give them, to risk it all so they could achieve their dream.
And last night, by coming into his room, she had shown that strength in a different way. She had been so nervous, her hands shaking as she’d tried to free herself from her nightgown, yet she had forced herself to continue. He smiled with warm pleasure. She had been willing to take a risk and expose her vulnerability to him.
He really was a lucky man to have a woman like Arabella in his bed, not just because making love to her had been so magical, but because she was so special, unique.
His smile turned to a loud, exasperated sigh. But he would have to enjoy it while it lasted. They would soon be returning to their own lives. Their time together was just an interlude, a very enjoyable, very satisfying interlude, but an interlude all the same.
He rolled over on to his back, put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Last night he had told her he couldn’t offer her commitment and fidelity and she had accepted that. He only hoped she meant it and they weren’t idle words. It was true, he had never committed to a woman. Experience had taught him he was incapable of doing so.
But he could not subject Arabella to the life his mother had led with his father, waiting dutifully at home while her husband moved from woman to woman without a backward glance. That was not the life that she should be leading. But it was also a life he knew a woman like Arabella would never accept. His jaw tensing, he knew that one day she would find someone who could offer her what he couldn’t—commitment, fidelity, love. When that happened, he would have to accept it.
He rolled back to his side and gazed down at her. But that was all in the future. Right now, they were here together and he should be just enjoying the moment, not worrying about what would one day happen. Right now, she was with him, here, in his bed. And right now, he had no interest in any other woman. He was exactly where he wanted to be and with the woman he wanted to be with.