Rakehell's Daughters

by Gayle Eden

  “Perhaps I should have gone then.”

  Ah, humor. He loved it when she relaxed and did that. He was also relieved she was not aloof this morning.

  “I’m going in the back way. Shall we meet in my study?”

  She nodded and he left her, taking off his boots, also taking the back stairs, to do hasty repairs to his appearance, before clean boots, dry shirt, and clean trousers donned, he joined her.

  Sonja stood by the fire as he entered, her gown a light wool brown, simple, and yet of course, her tall figure made it much more.

  “The housekeeper brought chocolate.” She waved to the tray. Her own cup sat on the mantle.

  He helped himself and then joined her, absorbing the warmth of the fire, sipping, eyeing her, as he could not help but do. The firelight glinted in her raven hair, which was simply tied back.

  “How shall we waste the day? I am at your disposal.”

  She had a musing smile on her lips. He sensed her mind was somewhere else. “I did much thinking. Not very much sleeping. Perhaps, we should talk.”

  He nodded, stifling any trepidation, though it hit him hard enough. Alexander waved her to the leather sofa, facing the fire. Alexander sat slightly facing her, his back against the arm and long legs relaxed. It was a deceptive posture. His every dread was that she would inform him she was leaving as soon as the weather cleared.

  She sat more on the edge, a bit tense. Her hands cradled her cup. Her gaze stayed on the fire. “I could never accept your proposal, as long as I have any discomfort with intimacy.

  Alexander felt his heart sinking.

  “Though—I feel I should tell you, I’ve never felt as I did when you kissed me. I have always been…detached. I learned that, for obvious reasons. I learned it so well that those attempts to prove I could feel more, were failures.”

  He was confused a moment, but said quietly, “Your kisses stir me, too.”

  She swallowed. “I have been making my own decisions for some time. I am of an age, mature enough to not treat this lightly.” Her head turned, eyes searching his face. “I know you say you have patience and you care for me. I believe that to be true. Nevertheless, I would not wed you with doubts about having a real marriage or being a wife to you, in every way. I care for you too much.”

  He wanted to blurt out something, but waited as hard as it was, for her to finish. He was thinking however, that he had done something wrong, despite her admitting she liked it, felt something. What the bloody hell….

  “I don’t want to be less than your expectation. You may argue it, but you have them. You think it will come natural.”

  This time he did say, “If my kiss aroused you, why do you doubt?”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head and looked away.

  “Sonja?”

  She said, before drinking from her cup, “If I cannot be your lover, and satisfy. I cannot be your wife. No man should have his natural desires and ardor rebuffed.”

  “I am not following? Are you refusing now, before…?”

  “I’m refusing to consider your proposal of marriage. Until I know for myself, that I….” She shook her head and sighed as if struggling.

  He set the cup down, coming closer to her so that when she raised her eyes, they could look at each other.

  “You tell me,” he offered gently, quietly. “Tell me what you want to do. You know what my feelings are, and what my desire is. Sonja, I am not going to be distressed should you take time being at ease with intimacy and yourself. With me—as a lover. Only, do not assume wrongly, that I will get easily frustrated. I offered marriage as much for all the reasons we would have a good one—”

  She was clearly struggling to get her part said, so he waited in silence again.

  “I am over forty years old, Alexander. Half that life I have spent without trust. Until Edmund and Alex, I did not believe in passion as some professed it was. That was because I could never reach that place in myself. I let you get closer to me, also, than any man has. These walls are years in the making, but the emotional distance, even longer.”

  “I’m fully aware of that.” He risked reaching up and tucking away a curl that escaped. Her face, beautiful and mature, was yet somehow vulnerable.

  “That kiss gave me hope.”

  Slowly the tension left him. Alexander waited for her to finish her drink and then urged her to set back. Turning, his knee on the cushion, he cupped her face, and touched their mouths together softly and husked, “I see.”

  “Do you?” she whispered almost desperately, her hands on his upper arms.

  “I do.” Alexander smiled gently. Then after a few moments, he sat back and took her hand. “We both have our bit of hope now, eh? I would say we are very much equals, my dear.” His black brow rose. “Billiards, chess, or cards?”

  “Chess.” She released a tight breath.

  He set it up and they began to play—Alexander thinking that she likely expected him to drag her to bed and start “testing” right off.

  He jested with her, teased her when she hesitated, in a challenging way, delighted as she took up the challenge with a laugh and made her moves boldly. He talked…of anything, but intimacy. Nevertheless, his looks, his glances, were flirtatious. In truth, Alexander was so thrilled to be allowed to openly relax and show his attraction to her, that he did not fake that flirting, but enjoyed every moment of it.

  He touched her hand, her fingertips, several times. Maturity and experience, he thought, would serve him well. He was glad to have it.

  When the housekeeper brought lunch, he jested with the older woman and shared a confiding wink. No one at Hawksmoor would be the least surprised at his courting Sonja. He made no secret he had feelings for her.

  Through lunch, he and Sonja conversed more. He saw her relax, smile, and stop being so preoccupied with the decision she had made. He was a man of skill true, but this woman meant too much to him, to rush.

  They parted to bathe and dress for dinner, agreeing to take trays in the study, rather than putting the servants to the trouble. He appeared in a white silk shirt, boots, black trousers, and admired Sonja’s peacock blue gown. It was silk, lovely. She wore a light shawl of a darker hue. He noticed she did not grab it and cover her shoulders when it slipped off.

  He was aware of the silver scars but did not stare at them. Alexander set out to be charming and knew he had succeeded when by coffee, she was laughing aloud at his jests.

  Discreetly he released the servants to retire, and outside their cozy lamp lit study, the house was quiet.

  Outside the manor, a drizzle remained and fog wafted thickly. However, between them, a bit of brandy, the scent of wood smoke, bees wax, her perfume and his citrus scent—the intimate sound of mature male and female voices—was everything safe, comforting, the atmosphere wrapping them in that.

  His shirtsleeves were rolled up. Her shawl was forgotten on the other side of the room. Leaning over the board, they played their last moves, peeking at each other, occasionally laughing at a faux start, before finally he won.

  Toasting her glass against his, she laughed huskily. “Congratulations.”

  “I accept. You’re a daunting opponent.” They drained their glasses and he began putting the board and pieces away. She took the glasses to the sideboard.

  Glancing up covertly, Alexander noted her hair tie had slipped. Her thick raven hair was mostly loose, the tie seconds from falling free.

  In the amber light, he stayed busy at his task, wiping down the marble and slipping the intricate pieces into their velvet sacks. Yet he watched her go to the long window and look out, then press her hands to her spine and stretch. The action called attention to her long waist and full breasts. It made that tie fall, and she must have felt her hair swing free. She attempted to spot the tie in the shadows, but gave up, first gathering her hair, then letting it fall and settle, tucking it behind her ears.

  By the time he was done, Alexander was sighing inwardly, the way he had done many time
s observing her unobserved. She did not move in sharp movements. She had a grace, a languidness, that was not practiced. Her body, full breasts, in curved waist, round hips, and he guessed from her thinner gowns, long shapely legs. Her shoulders, her neck, graceful and well formed.

  Sonja reached up and undid the window latch, and as he secured the last piece, he too welcomed and felt the soft waft of fog tinged autumn air.

  Treading as soft as possible, he walked over and stood behind her. Feeling no stiffness in her, doubtless because of the pleasant evening, they shared. His hands cupped her shoulders. Alexander leaned her slightly back, against him. Her flower scented hair wash was as pleasing as the thick cooled strands that brushed his cheek. His lips brushed it. His voice came soft and quiet, “It seems very calm and silent on these nights.”

  “Mmm. Except for the wolves prowling and night creatures likely creeping through the fingers of fog to the lake.”

  He chuckled low, delighted “What an interesting perception of night you have.” Firmly taking his palms down her arms in a casual way, he was conscious that she fully relaxed against him.

  He reached for her hands and held them, his head turning more downward this time, until he touched her ear with his lips. Softly, sensual, he barely kissed her there. “So you see the night as alive as day?”

  “Of course.”

  Ah yes, her breath was a bit forced. She liked that.

  Alexander weaved their fingers together, holding her arms out a bit while nuzzling her hair aside. He could and did kiss her shoulder, her nape, back to her ear. He whispered, “I like that image. I like that you can see beyond more than just drizzle and fog.”

  His kiss brushed her ear, his breath warmed it. Alexander caught the lobe with his teeth lightly, feeling an excitement when she finally arched her head more to the side.

  Loosing one hand, he scooped her hair over her shoulder and to the front, still holding her other hand whilst letting the pads of his fingers rub the back of her neck upwards and down. “Tense?”

  “Ummm.”

  He pressed his lips there, and then began a kissing, lightly laving journey, across her shoulder, over the scars he could not feel but knew were there. He loved her skin, her scent. After a short catch in her breath betrayed her, she made no other sound save that he could hear her breath constrict, it was shorter, and deeper.

  Covering the area several times, he placed a teasing bite near her shoulder joint, and delicately kissed his way back up the side her neck.

  His breathing too was thicker. He husked intimately, “You taste delectable. Your perfume is heady, but your skin—ah, so soft and womanly.”

  Nibbling her ear again, his free hand landed on her stomach. No corset. Good. He felt the slight tremble in her. He discerned it was not fear.

  “I remember several times during the stretch we have known each other, wanting to brush my lips against your nape, across these lovely shoulders.”

  His palm on her stomach, fingers splayed, Alexander let her absorb the heat of it, the feel of it. Her fingers were tighter on his other hand. He nuzzled more, her neck, her hair, her ear, keeping their bodies close, letting her feel his natural heat. There were tale tale chills, minute, over her shoulder.

  “Touching you is a pleasure, Sonja. Do you feel my touch?”

  “Yes.” Her sigh was shaky.

  Alexander loosed her hand, moving his and joined it near the other, so that both his hands were on her body. One at her lower stomach, the other near her ribs, just under her breasts.

  “You feel lovely against me.” He brought her back just a bit closer.

  Sonja whispered almost too low to hear, “So do you.”

  At the point, she half turned her head and he could kiss her, Alexander began to leisurely caress her body. His kisses on her seeking lips, supple, easy, whispered brushes as he waited for her to part first. She did, opening her lips, and seeking. He gave her the kiss she wanted.

  His hands caressed her fluid and firm, they shaped her hips, slowly and her sides, touching her in strokes that went with the easy pattern of his caressing tongue in her wonderful mouth.

  Sonja kissed back with that equally thick sensuality. It aroused him fully. He did not hide it. Although, he was aware of setting the pace, keeping it sensual, unhurried, creating a drugging kind of tension, which would build and build, hotter and more erotic.

  He relished touching her, loved it, and even moaned a time or two helplessly. Her lips were so soft, her tongue so sleek. She had an instinct, a kind of searching hunger that demanded from him, without her being conscious of it. Sonja made him kiss the way she needed. She was seeking to satisfy a new desire for taste and pleasure. Alexander was intoxicated by it.

  Breath louder now, still sluggish, their lips clung a second before parting. Her head still turned to him, their lashes lifted slowly, half-mast. He was sure his were fogged. Hers were beautiful, velvet brown, slightly more tawny. Good God, she was stunning, absolutely the most naturally sensual creature he had ever seen.

  Placing another kiss, shorter, on her lips, he shifted and pushed her hair to the other side. This time, Alexander varied kissing her skin, nibbling her neck. He was rewarded by her hands covering his and a gasp, followed by a soft womanly moan.

  Her body was starting to mold into him, moving slightly in that female seeking male way. Tasting her skin, nipping her ear, kissing her shoulder, Alexander kept his slightly wide stance. He was more than strong enough to take her relaxed weight, being over six feet and thankfully broad of chest, strong limbed. He also more than welcomed the soft rounded curves of her backside against his hard groin.

  He eased his hands up, over her breasts, not stopping, but gliding them up to her face, sensually slow when plowing his fingers through her hair. Hers had covered them, fell away, but as soon as his landed on her ribs again, she reached back, touching him.

  It was what he needed. What he had waited for.

  Alexander had a lover’s mouth, a lover’s hands, and he used those hands to gently press her away for a second, and then turn her. In moments, she was in his arms, his mouth on hers, kissing her, scorching and deep. His hold was strong and passionate. Her hands—were grasping fistfuls of his shirt.

  Panting, he gave her seconds to fill her lungs while scoring his mouth over her cheek and throat, over her chin. He kissed her again, not parting until he knew she would feel the tingles and taste of that kiss on her swollen lips for hours.

  When Alexander lifted, her forehead fell against his shoulder, her breath panting hot against his silk shirt when he let up. Alexander caressed her back, low on her spine, upwards, down again, over her hips, stoking, stroking, and caressing.

  “There is an ardent soul in you, Sonja.” He hugged her tighter a moment and released his own shaky sigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever trembled this hard with a woman before.”

  Muffled against his shoulder she answered, “I’ve never felt like this in my life.”

  “Does it frighten you?”

  She shook her head no.

  “Good, because there is nothing we do together that isn’t a pleasure shared. What you feel, I feel, too. Sometimes, the body is so starved for a touch, a kiss that it makes you weak. This kind of desire has its reward. We are very good together.”

  At the point he leaned back enough, she raised her head. He thought she looked more the wild gypsy than an aloof duchess. Yes, her thick black wavy hair loose, creamy skin flushed, full lips swollen and red—her eyes velvet brown, a little ravenous. He honestly could not tell how hard her heart was beating, his own jarred his ribs and pumped blood so fast through his veins, he could hear the rush inside his head.

  “Sonja,” he whispered, brushing his mouth, slightly parted, over hers.

  The faintest whisper of his name came against his mouth.

  He played and teased erotically with his tongue, gliding in for hers, pulling out again, in and touching only the tip. Making love to her mouth was a pleasure he indulged for som
e time, hearing her suck in her breath, hearing that breath tremble, feeling her mouth reach for what he was giving.

  Her arms were more around him, her one hand on his back, the other fisted in the shoulder of his shirt. When Alex kissed her fully and heard the tear of that seam, his passion flamed nearly out of control.

  She moaned between erotic kisses, “Don’t stop. Don’t let me go.”

  “Never. Never.” He kissed her scorching hot.

  * * * *

  Sonja felt lightheaded, dazed—overflowing with hungry fires that were all consuming. She had a distant sense of Alexander walking with her, guiding them back to the sofa. She made a sound as he lowered her, yet soon he was close again, his taste, his scent, the masculine heat, alluring.

  Half reclined against the arm, her fingers plowed through his hair. The cooling of her bodice registered in some part of her mind. The latches were freed on the front of her gown. Then his lips and mouth were there, softly scoring her throat, collarbone, and her upper chest. Sparks went deliciously through her blood.

  His hands cupped her breasts. The moment Alexander’s mouth was on her nipple, her eyes dragged opened, hands skimming down to his shoulders again. She shivered.

  Lashes weighty with languid arousal, she watched through a haze of pleasure, the surreal image of Alexander’s beautiful mouth rimming her large flushed nipple. Her breasts seemed creamier against the tawny fingers splayed around them. Her nipple was firm, quivering when he left it to attend the next. He did things…scraping his teeth across them, laving, then suckling, that made her lips part, her gasp reach her own ears.

  It drove her to a desire she had not known before, his suckling, flexing his fingers, and then plucking one nipple, whilst sucking the other.

  “Beautiful. Your nipples are amazingly erotic,” His voice, sounded husked, deep. “Such beautiful large nipples amid pillows of ivory silk.”

  “Alexander.” Her head arched back a moment.

  “Just feel, my love. Just let yourself feel me.”

  Sonja did. It was wonderfully intoxicating.

  His posture slightly over her allowed his knee between her legs, the weight of it making her conscious of a reaction there too. Had she a moment to reflect, Sonja would be amazed. As it was, she existed in the moment, and moments drew out with sensual pleasure. She was consumed—aware of Alexander, the rasp of his tongue, the lovely mouth he used so skillfully. It was no surprise he was an expert lover, and she resented it not a bit.