He saved her lips for last, returning only after he had completed a most thorough tactile exploration of her features, leaving her skin warmed by a glowing, pink flush of desire. Her breath came in rapid puffs, breasts rising and falling against his chest in a most enticing way. He resisted the urge to bite her lips as he longed to do, forcing himself to go easy, to keep it simple and light.
She sighed and slid her arms around his waist to pull him closer. He knew she must feel his erection, straining thick and hard beneath his breeches. But she didn’t flinch or show any sort of dismay, holding him tight as she responded to his kiss.
Encouraged, he eased some of the restraints he’d placed upon himself and intensified their embrace. Stopping just short of ravishing her mouth, he coaxed open her lips and slipped his tongue inside to play hot, dark, wet games.
She answered back, taking everything he had to give and offering more. He delighted as she traced her hands over his back, his shoulders, caressing him through the cloth of his shirt and coat. He moaned when she slipped her hands beneath the tails of his coat to ease the tips of her fingers beneath the waistband of his breeches. Anchored there, she held on for long, long moments before sinking the tips of her nails into his shirt and the skin beneath.
Half stunned, he quaked, his aching groin hardening even further. On a muffled oath, he broke their kiss.
Curving an arm behind her knees, he swept her off her feet and carried her across the room to the bed. He bent and yanked back the counterpane, then set her onto the cool white sheets.
She lay there, silent and watching as he tugged at his clothes. He had no wish to frighten her, to hurry things along like some green boy ready and eager to take his first woman. So he forced himself to slow, to behave as if he weren’t yearning to simply toss up her chemise, part her legs and plunge deep inside.
’Twas hard controlling the beast, harder than a man of his age and experience should find it. Hard as well not to give in to the impulse to act the impatient fool and rip off his coat, yank at his neck cloth, kick free his shoes and pop every bloody button from his shirt and waistcoat and breeches in a frenzy to be naked.
Instead he took his time, draping each garment upon a nearby chair as he divested himself of his clothing. Her eyes widened as he revealed himself to her, inch by bare inch. To her credit she didn’t look away, not even when he stood completely naked, his arousal jutting forward in a manner many an untried bride might have found alarming.
Remembering her earlier reticence concerning making love in the light, he blew out all but one candle. Near darkness spread over the room, leaving the bed bathed in concealing shadows. Setting a knee upon the mattress, he slid in beside her.
Wanting her relaxed and eager again, he set to kissing her, softly, slowly, then with increasing hunger. She feathered her fingers into his hair and kissed him back.
Her unfettered sighs and breathy moans played like music in his ears, making his pulse stutter as his hunger arced higher and hotter.
His hands went to her chemise, drew back the slim ribbon that kept her breasts from his touch. Parting the fabric, he ran his fingers over her warm flesh, tracing her shape, savoring her texture. On a groan, he buried his face between her breasts, thrilling to the sensation of her lush female form against his cheeks, the intoxicating scent of her dizzying as a drug in his head.
Turning his face, he fastened his lips upon a single nipple, licking, teasing, suckling her in a way that made her fingers fist in his hair, her legs shift restlessly against his hip. She moaned when he opened his mouth wider to draw even more intensely upon her. He paid equal homage to the other breast, her hands shifting over his arms and shoulders, caressing the side of his cheek, the back of his neck.
Exercising careful control in an effort to increase both their pleasure, he slid lower, dappled lazy kisses and tiny licks all over her skin. Hands and arms, neck and shoulders, the undersides of her breasts, across the flat plane of her smooth belly.
Reaching down, he pushed the skirt of her chemise up to her waist then bent to lavish the same attention there, beginning at her feet and working his way back up. With hands and lips and tongue, he caressed her until she writhed against the sheets, his name a murmured prayer in the air. Skimming his hand over the velvety skin of her inner thighs, he parted her, felt her jerk as he slid a finger inside of her. She surrounded him, hot and wet, her fragrance filling his nostrils. She sighed and relaxed, vulnerable muscles quivering as she accepted his intimate touch, granting him her ultimate trust.
His arousal throbbed, so much so he nearly gave in to the temptation to settle himself between her thighs and put a whole lot more than his finger inside her. But she wasn’t completely ready, not enough that she would be able to ignore any pain his initial entry might cause. Putting aside the knowledge that he might shock her, he spread her thighs wider apart, leaned closer and replaced his finger with his mouth.
She froze against him in obvious dismay, her hand reaching down to push him away. But she didn’t push for long before she began to moan, panting in a litany of high keening cries that signaled her pleasure, her delight, in everything he did. Gripping his skull, she pressed him closer, urged him on. He smiled and applied himself more fully to the task of teasing and tormenting her to distraction. And then he did a thoroughly wicked, utterly immoral thing with his tongue that made her arch and shake, her release strong and satisfying for them both.
Knowing he could wait no longer, he moved up and over her body. Crushing his lips to hers, he poured out his hunger and want, demanding she match him, meet him, take him gladly into her mouth and her body.
Positioning himself, blood thrumming like a drumbeat between his temples, pulsing in his heart and loins, he eased himself inside her. Her slick, inner warmth wrapped around him, tight and snug as a hot velvet glove. The urge to plunge deep and hard roared through him. He held back, teeth clenched, jaw tight, muscles quaking. Pushing forward inch by deliberate inch, he allowed her to adjust to his size, waiting to encounter the resistance of her virgin barrier and gently ease through.
She shuddered and shifted beneath him, arms and legs curled around him, her face buried against his neck. He felt her tense slightly around him as he forced himself deeper, and deeper still.
For a second he thought she was stiffening against the pain of his penetration. Then he realized her reaction stemmed from something else, something for which he had not been prepared.
Shock poured through him as he lay fully sheathed inside her, deep and tight as he could go. The truth dawned slowly, sinking into his bones.
Jeannette, his dear, innocent, inexperienced, virgin bride, was no virgin at all.
Chapter Sixteen
Jeannette sensed the change in him instantly, swallowing hard against the rushing return of fear and the anxious worry he’d driven from her mind with his exquisite touch.
As soon as he’d taken her in his arms, kissed her, stroked her, coaxed her passion to the boiling point, she’d forgotten everything save him. He’d brought her to heights she wouldn’t have imagined herself capable of reaching. Even now, pleasurable aftershocks sparked inside her body, fresh desire on the verge of stirring to life again.
But his tender entry had stopped, his body grown still. Easing her head back onto the pillow, she watched him, watched his expression and flinched.
He knew. Dear Lord in heaven, he knew.
Maybe she should have told him the truth first, after all. But it was too late for that now. Far, far too late.
His blue eyes shone hard and humorless even in the low light. Strain contorted his face, radiating inside the body he had lodged so powerfully, solidly inside her. Lowering her arms and legs, she started to slide free of his embrace.
But he would not let her go, pinning her in place by settling his full weight upon her. He might look lean to the casual observer but he was pure, solid male muscle, heavy enough to drive a good measure of the air from her lungs.
She gasped,
then gasped a second time when he positioned his broad palms upon her hips and shifted her with silent, unmistakable intent. His action spread her wider beneath him, forced her to accept even more of his hard length as he pushed deeper.
“Darragh, I—”
Whatever she’d been about to say, he cut her off, obviously in no mood to hear. Covering her lips, he ravished her mouth, forcing his tongue between her teeth at the same moment he eased back to plant himself inside her again.
He thrust into her at a swift, relentless pace, all his earlier restraints gone. He took her without his earlier tender gentleness, yet even as he did, she realized he was careful not to hurt her. Quite the contrary, thrusting into her in a way designed to maximize her pleasure, to reawaken her sexual hunger and bring her to peak.
She sensed he was determined to force her surrender, to compel her body to perform for him in the manner he desired, to react and behave, to obey as he saw fit.
Aware, she resisted. Or tried to resist. But it was no use, as she lay helpless beneath his relentless sensual assault. He bit at her lips and pounded harder. She felt him shaking and knew he was near the edge of his own release.
Determined to win, he reached between them and flicked his fingers over a spot that set her instantly afire. She shook and arched into him as she crested again on a loud, mewling cry.
She could do nothing but feel, her mind devoid of coherent thought as he pumped furiously in and out of her for a few more strokes. He stiffened abruptly, frame quaking in violent reaction as he followed her over the edge into bliss.
Lungs heaving, he collapsed across her, his skin damp with heat and perspiration. He lay atop her for a full minute, then pulled out and rolled away.
An ominous silence descended, broken only when a log popped in the grate and sent up a minor shower of sparks.
Suddenly chilled despite the warmth in the room, Jeannette pushed the skirt of her chemise down over her legs. She covered her breasts next, fingers shaking as she tied the closure of her bodice. Plucking at the sheet, she pulled it over her then stared into the dark.
“Darragh, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He said nothing, just lay staring up at the bed canopy.
Tears stung her eyelids but she refused to let them fall. She sniffed. “I should have told you…”
He rolled his head on the pillow, eyes blazing. “Aye, I think you might have mentioned it. Did you think I wouldn’t know?” His accusation struck her like a lash.
She’d hoped he would not know, for this very reason.
“Well?” he repeated in a clipped tone.
“I knew you’d be angry, so I—”
“Grew goose-hearted and couldn’t tell me? Or did you deliberately set out to deceive me?”
She bristled. “No. How dare you suggest—”
“Under the circumstances, I think I have a right to suggest a great many things.” Huffing out a full-blown sigh, he curved an arm above his head and lay silent.
She shivered. She thought about trying to explain, but what was the point when he would not want to hear?
A pair of minutes passed.
“Who was he, then?” Darragh demanded. “And you’d better not say your damned brother-in-law, or I may have to ride over to your cousins’ estate and beat him bloody.”
She felt her eyes go wide in astonishment. “What? Raeburn, do you mean?”
“ ’Tisn’t such a great stretch considering he was once your fiancé.”
“It’s true, we were engaged, but if you knew the duke better you would realize he’s far too honorable ever to do such a thing. No, it was not Raeburn. You can set your mind at ease on that score and keep your fists to yourself.”
He pinned her with a penetrating look. “Who, then? Tell me of this dishonorable fellow who stole your virtue.”
She resisted the urge to squirm. “Not stole, precisely…” Seeing the angry flash in Darragh’s eyes, she stopped, realizing what she’d revealed.
And really, what was she doing defending Toddy? His actions and behavior were indefensible, stole a far more accurate term for what he’d done, now that she could look back upon the past with a more sanguine eye. Despite the Town bronze she’d acquired after two Seasons as a London debutante, she knew now she’d been nothing but a naive innocent. A dupe willing to be preyed upon by a flattering tongue and debonair manner. How pathetic she’d been, willing to toss away her future in belief of his glib promises and practiced lies.
“Then what, precisely?” Darragh persisted.
She sat up, drew the sheet high against her chest. “Does it really matter? What existed between him and me is long since dead.”
“That’s reassuring to hear,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his words. “So when did it end, this whatever it was? And where? Did you know this man in London?”
She picked at the bedcovers with the tip of her fingernail, and hung her head. “Yes, in Town. The particulars aren’t important.”
“Oh, I think they’re very important. I assume he is a gentleman, or at least what passes for a gentleman.” Speculation clouded Darragh’s eyes. “He didn’t by chance have anything to do with the scandal that got you sent here, did he?”
“No.”
He cornered her with a look that had her blurting out the truth. “Well, not directly.”
“Indirectly, then? Is he the reason you jilted Raeburn? Secretly traded him over to your sister, as it were?”
Her gaze flew upward, pulse leapfrogging in her throat. How could he know that? How had he guessed? To this day, not even her parents suspected the full truth. Only Violet and Adrian and his inquisitive brother, Kit, were privy to all the facts.
One of Darragh’s hands tightened into a fist. “Do you love him?” His tone was glacial, icy and impenetrable as a deep mountain lake.
“No, not now. I thought I did, once, before I learned what he was truly like.”
“Where is he now? Still in England?”
She shook her head. “The last I knew, he was on the Continent, living off the largesse of a wealthy contessa. Wherever he is now, I most certainly do not care to know.” She picked again at the sheet, awash in gloomy self-recriminations. “So now that you know you’ve received damaged goods, will you be wanting an annulment?”
He raised a single, reproving eyebrow. “I don’t see how we could get an annulment considering we’ve already consummated our union. Even now you might be carrying my child.”
Her gaze jerked to his. Mercy, he was right. She hadn’t even thought of that. The one and only time she’d lain with Toddy she’d worried for two weeks after that she might have conceived despite the French letter he’d donned for protection against such a misstep.
To be honest, she hadn’t enjoyed the experience all that much. His kisses and touches had been nice, but as for the rest…she could have left that well enough alone. Making love with Toddy hadn’t been like tonight with Darragh. Or the night in the conservatory. He fired something deep within her, drew forth a feverish ache that refused to be denied. Left her with a pleasured satisfaction, the likes of which she’d hardly dreamed possible.
“What, then? Shall you repudiate me? Cast me aside?” Even as the words fell from her lips, she quaked in horror. What if he said yes?
“I am not the blackguard you obviously imagine.”
“But—”
“I’m angry and have just cause to be. That doesn’t mean I’m cruel. In retrospect, I suppose I should have read the signs.”
“What signs?”
“The facts. For one, that you’d been kissed before. Another, that you didn’t faint dead away at some of my bolder moves, moves that would have sent many an untried girl running for her ma.”
“If you’re saying I’m a—”
He raised a hand, cutting off the ugly epithet. “I’m not saying anything of the sort. Just observing that I shouldn’t have been so stunned to discover the truth.”
She blew out a breath. “Where does tha
t leave us?”
“With some repairing to do, I suppose.”
“I’ve said I’m sorry. What more can I offer? What’s done is done.”
“Aye, and so it is.”
Tears returned to her eyes. She brushed one away, a sudden rebellious fury rising within her. “It isn’t fair, you know.”
“What’s not fair?”
“Society’s double standard about women having to come to their marriage beds pure. It’s not as if I’m your first, after all.”
“And you ought to be glad you’re not. Otherwise, I’d have still been fumbling around trying to figure out which part to put where. Blasted uncomfortable for you and damned embarrassing for me.”
A smile built slowly inside her, the image of him as an inept, inexperienced lover painting a vivid picture in her mind. She struggled to keep the smile from forming, but it spread over her mouth nonetheless.
He tipped his head to one side, his own black humor slowly easing. “I guess I shall have to forgive you.”
“Can you?”
He sat up, considering the question. “It all depends. You admit you once loved this scoundrel. Are you sure you are over him?”
“Completely sure. He is out of my life, never to return, exactly as I would wish.”
A fleeting expression she thought looked like relief crossed his face. “If that is so,” he said, “then I’m willing to put the past where it belongs and begin anew. But you’ll have to promise to do the same.”
“What do you mean?”
He reached out, caught a strand of her long hair between his fingers and began to toy with it. “Just that we’re married now. I’m not ignorant of the fact that you had little wish for our union, nor that you nearly ran away this morning rather than take vows. But take them you did, and if I agree to think no more of this black fellow who took your innocence, an innocence that should rightfully have come to me, then I think I have cause to ask something in exchange of you.”
Releasing her hair, he tucked a knuckle under her chin and held her steady so she couldn’t refuse his gaze. “I want a wife, Jeannette. A real wife willing to give our marriage a fair chance. We didn’t start out under the best of circumstances, I’ll admit, but that doesn’t mean we’ve any need to continue that way. There’s a spark between us. Even you can’t deny that.”
The Wife Trap Page 22