His For The Taking

by Channing, Harris

  His gaze jerked to her. "Have you?"

  "Yes, actually, I have. Coming here has opened many venues for me and I have made new friends and enjoyed every minute."

  His eyes flashed with sorrow. Dear Lord she hadn't expected that.

  "And what of Nesbitt?" he asked taking a step forward, one that had her moving away from him. His sudden aggression left her anxious.

  "He is a very good friend…" her voice trailed off. What had changed in him? Gone was the merriment she was so used to seeing in his countenance. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Was that true sorrow? And the dark circles beneath his eyes, and the way his usually well kempt hair now fell across his forehead, and his suit…oh my! He was positively disheveled.

  "How good?"

  "That's none of your business," she said, forcing herself to recall the pain he caused her. Forcing herself to remember just how little she meant to him. My did it wound.

  At the sound of the orchestra tuning up, he shrank back a bit and lifted his hand. "Dance with me dear, Julianna."

  She stared dumbfound at his hand. If she danced with him, she realized she would lose her battle. She could so easily fall back into the contented rut she had been, for so long, happy to occupy. "No," she replied, tears threatening to strangle her. "I won't."

  "No?" he said, the pain and surprise in his expression almost had her allowing him his dance.

  "No. I won’t have you ruining my chances with Bennett." Dragging a breath into her lungs she stared into his face. "Goodbye, Jonathan."

  "No, darling." He leaned in, his sweet breath fanning her cheek and sending a wild chill across her already overheated skin. "Never goodbye."

  And he smiled, the same wicked smile she was so used to seeing in him. He was determined, but why? Why would he care? What had changed?

  Frustration pinched her gut, hard. He was driving her to distraction. Five, not five minutes ago she was contemplating a life as Lady Nesbitt and now, she was staring at Jonathan's broad back as he easily made his way through the crowd and out of her sight.

  She longed to chase after him, and felt herself losing the well fought battle she had won.

  "Do not grab defeat from the jaws of victory," Grandmother said, her voice as welcome as a summer shower. Soft, warm and refreshing.

  "Whatever do you mean?" Julianna replied, meeting Lady Chesterfield's compassionate, although direct gaze.

  "He has done what I knew he would. He has come to London to reclaim you," she explained, her brow lifted. "Don't make it easy. Make him work a little harder for you."

  "But you can’t mean to say he loves me?"

  Grandmother rolled her eyes. "Of course he loves you. But he has hurt you. He needs to make amends and he needs to make his love certain and his motives crystal clear."

  "You mean marriage."

  "Yes." Grandmother nodded. "Nothing less."

  Chapter Six

  The best part of living at Constance Whitcomb's townhouse was not the proximity to London but the fine garden at the back. It was the one place she had found in the entire city that was quiet enough to actually sit, think and be out of doors. And she had been thinking there for the better part of two days.

  Sleep hadn't come easy the previous nights as she waited and fretted. What was Jonathan up to? Where was he and if he hadn't meant the night at the ball to be their final goodbye, where had he disappeared to?

  Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of the spring breeze against her face. It was a fine morning and with luck it wouldn't rain for there was a picnic planned at the Manchester Estate and she longed to see Jane.

  Of course, Bennett would be there too. Oh my, what was she going to tell him? Would he understand her confusion and indecision? Somehow, she didn't think so.

  "Julianna." Grandmother's voice echoed across the small courtyard. "The Duchess has sent word that I am to come to the estate at once."

  Julianna pushed herself to standing. "I'll just get my things and come too."

  "No, no. You come later with Jane and Bennett as planned. You explain to them that the duchess needed me."

  She slid her gaze to her grandmother, the woman's face alive with her excitement. "Can you imagine the duchess wanting my opinion on what she should wear?" She lifted a missive. "She said that my turban was stunning and she would like my council on what gown she should choose for the picnic."

  "That is wonderful."

  "Isn't it though?" Grandmother replied. "So, I'll see you there in a couple of hours?"

  Julianna smiled. My but it was good to see grandmother so very happy. "Yes."

  "And you wear your silver gray gown, all right?"

  "Yes grandmother."

  "And there are silver combs in my jewelry box. You are welcome to them as long as you don't drop them in the Thames."

  ***

  Julianna stepped out of her morning gown and stared at the smooth lines and gentle flow of her silver gown. It as by far her favorite.

  She would give herself a sponge bath and dress. Bennett and Jane would arrive in just over an hour and she definitely didn't wish to keep them waiting.

  At the sound of her bed chamber door opening, she turned to face her ladies maid. Surely, she knew to knock and when she opened her mouth to scold the girl, her heart sped to a maddening pace.

  "Jonathan, what are you doing here?"

  He stepped boldly into the room and shut the door, leaning against it, his gaze boldly taking in her form. "My god, what I've been missing," he mumbled. "You are a goddess."

  She reached for her robe and hurriedly covered herself in the pale pink fabric. "You need to get out!" she shouted, taking a step back, her legs colliding with the dressing table. Perfume bottles, hair brushes and her hand mirror protested her sudden movement. "Who let you in? Where is my maid? You shouldn't be here. We-we shouldn't be here alone like this. It's improper."

  "No, what's improper is you shunning me." His dark eyes grew even darker.

  "Shunning you?" she asked, her voice rising with the question. "I did not shun you, you chose to cast me aside without a second thought. You charge in on your horse, kiss me and exclaim that our kiss meant nothing."

  "Did it mean nothing to you?" Jonathan asked, his hand on the key, he gave it a quick turn, locking them in the room.

  "What does it matter now?" Make him work for you, her grandmother's voice echoed in her head.

  He deposited the key in the pocket of his brocade vest. "It matters a great deal. It's all I can think about."

  She placed her hand to her breast, trying to quell the zealousness of her racing heart. "Really?"

  He took another step closer. "Yes. It woke me from a deep sleep. Forced me to see you for what you really are. And the night of the ball. I didn't tell you how incredible you looked. How the very sight of you sent my blood scorching through my veins. How I longed to hold you in my arms."

  "Jonathan," she sighed, the grip on her anger ever so slowly giving way. Could she trust the feelings his words evoked?

  "Julianna, I've danced many a dances with you, seen you a million times but I've never truly looked." His voice quavered just the slightest bit and with the words a chill chased across her skin.

  "What does that mean?"

  He took a step toward her, his body but inches from hers. "What do you think it means?"

  She opened her mouth to answer but no words would come. The attraction between them sparked, the air around them suddenly swirling with excitement. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers.

  She yielded to the pleasure of his unexpected kiss. Longed to feel more, to taste more. Her heart soared as her anger vanquished. Was this a dream? Or was Jonathan Denbigh truly kissing her not to prove he didn't love her but to prove that he did?

  Melting against him, her hands came to rest on his chest, the beating of his heart rhythmic beneath her trembling touch. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her to him as he slid his tongue between her teeth.

  She opened w
ide to receive him, her reward, his soft groan of pleasure that enveloped her in heated passion. He pulled away, his eyes alive with his own desire.

  "I want you, Julianna," he said, his breath coming in heavy pants. "I need you."

  "Oh Jonathan." Tears slipped from her eyes. "I have waited so long for you to say such things to me."

  At her admission, he crushed his mouth to hers with such force that it stole the breath from her lungs. Her hands slid up his chest, her arms coiled around his neck. Was this truly happening? If it were, she welcomed it. More then welcomed it.

  As if reading her thoughts, he lifted her into his arms. "I want to make you mine, precious. Marry me. Be my wife."

  She didn't answer, just claimed his lips in another searing kiss. He carried her to the corner of the room and deposited her on the cool comfort of her downy bed.

  Reclined on the bed she stared up at him, her body yearning to be satisfied. The need in her so strong that she fought the urge to beg him to take her.

  Instead, she spoke no words and lifting her hand, reached for him.

  Stripping out of his coat and waistcoat, he lowered his body atop hers and gazed down upon her. "If you want me, you'll have me."

  She nodded. "I want you, more than anything."

  A small smile touched his lips and he buried his face in her neck. He gently nibbled the soft flesh, the sensation sending hot flames surging through her body. Moisture seeped from deep within her and she arched against him, encouraging his seduction.

  "You drive mad," he mumbled, cupping her breast, kneading the flesh with greedy fingers. Pulling the shift low, he freed a hardened nipple from its linen confines. His breath fanned across the aroused bead before he took it deep into his mouth.

  "Jonathan," she moaned, her inexperienced body voracious for his practiced hand.

  Flicking his tongue, he toyed with the pebble as soft currents moved down her body. The sensation finally settling low in her abdomen.

  His hands trembled as he reached for the hem of her skirt. Rising from his carnal feast, he pushed up the layer of fabric until the cool spring air touched her naked legs.

  "Jonathan," she whimpered. Never had she been touched in such a manner. What was he doing to her? It was as if she had lost control of every aspect of her being.

  "It's all right," he said, his voice gravelly as he ran his fingers across the tender skin of her inner thigh. She inhaled a sharp breath as butterflies wings tickled her belly.

  Still, he didn't stop his passionate onslaught. No, she closed her eyes and allowed him to have his way with her. Allowed her body to react to his arduous lovemaking.

  Everywhere he touched became engulfed in a wicked heat. She squelched the voice of reason that demanded matrimony. This was what she had yearned to experience for so long. There was no turning back.

  His fingers slid along the slick lips of her sex and she cried out for more. Slowly, deliberately, he parted the folds and gently pressed his finger inside her honeyed walls.

  Her mouth popped open, her lower jaw trembling as she fought the urge to cry out. He moved his hand unhurried in and out of her body.

  "Do you like that?" he asked, forcing his fingers deep within the tight confines of her sheath.

  Did she like it? Lifting her hips, she ground against him. Yes she liked it. She never wanted him to stop. Never.

  She gazed up at him, his lids hooded, his lower lip between his teeth as he skillfully made her his. Catching site of her gaze, he withdrew his fingers and leaned forward, kissing her, but this time the passion was tempered with calculated precision.

  He worked her into a frenzy, using her senses to rear her senseless. He tasted of whiskey and masculinity, smelled of spice, and his touch seemed to coat every inch of her skin with a fresh craving that had her writhing.

  She entwined her fingers in the curls of his silky hair, pulling him down atop her, her tongue toying with his as it darted in and out of her mouth. He lay with his knee between hers, his hard cock pressing against her hip.

  "Jonathan," she groaned, needing him to make haste. Her hands slid down the length his broad back, exploring the sinewy muscle that met her touch. She pulled the shirt from the waistband of his trousers, wanting to feel his skin against her palm. His fevered flesh was moist with perspiration.

  Rising to his knees, he unfastened his pants, and lowering them, freed his staff. The plum sized head glistened in the pale sunlight. Without a word, he kissed her one last time before spreading her legs apart and slowly setting his cock at the opening of her sheath.

  "Are you ready, my love?" he asked.

  "Yes." She nodded. She was beyond ready, for her body pulsed with wanton fervor.

  He pushed himself into her, the pleasure of foreplay momentarily erased by a sharp pain as he ended her virginity. He stilled. His large erection filled her and she prayed that the pain would subside.

  "I'm sorry," he said, brushing a kiss across her forehead.

  Yet soon the ache eased and with caution, he began to move within her. Bliss overtook pain and with each thrust, she found herself more and more enthralled.

  She reached for him, clutching tight to his shirt. She arched to meet him as he pounded against her. All modesty was lost and she bucked beneath him, urging his thrusts deeper and deeper into her flesh.

  He lowered his face, and claimed her lips in a devastating kiss. Her moans mingled with his as he sent her body climbing toward ultimate satisfaction.

  He threw his head back, his eyes closed, his teeth clenched tight together. He appeared so beautifully savage that she called out his name. Her muscles grew taut around his cock, tighter and tighter until they gave way. Leaving in their wake the most exquisite release.

  As she slowly descended from carnal heaven, he shuddered, the spasm of his orgasm so powerful she could feel as his seed emptied into her womb.

  He buried his face between her breasts. "You have to marry me now."

  She chuckled. "Did you ever doubt I would?"

  He pushed up, his gaze caressing her face. The tenderness in the depths of his beautiful eyes touched her heart. "When you said goodbye to me at the ball, I wasn't sure."

  She sat up, her fingers trembling as she tried to right the wrong done to her shift. "What would you have had me do? You were very mean to me and very direct with Grandmother."

  He ran long fingers through tousled hair. "Forgive me. I was fool. I had no clue how very much I loved you until you were stolen away from me. And if there was ever any doubt, I saw you with that Nesbitt fellow in the garden and…"

  Surprised heat shot to her cheeks. "You were spying on me?"

  "No." He shook his head. "Well, yes, but not intentionally. I was coming to see you. Lady Chesterfield told me where you were and I came. Just as soon as I knew."

  "Grandmother?" She smiled, realization settling over her like a gauzy cloud. "She put all this in motion?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. "If she did, having Constance Whitcomb soiling Oak Park was a rather drastic measure."

  Satisfied that she had covered her breasts, she reached up and touched her hair. Repairing that damage would take considerably more time. "No one asked you to entertain her."

  He chuckled and cocked a brow. "Were you spying on me?"

  "No," she assured him. "But Grandmother was and the news of teas and dinners with Miss Whitcomb very nearly had me accepting Bennett's marriage proposal."

  Jonathan leaned in close, their lips but inches apart. "What stopped you?"

  "My heart."

  "Good, and now you must realize our connections have increased once again. And before the month ends, I want to add wife to that list."

  "All right," she said, setting her lips to his. He moaned and pressed her back against the pillows but she pushed at his chest. "But first, we have to tell Grandmother all her plotting and scheming has worked."

  "Yes," he agreed. "And we must thank her for it, right after the Duchess of Manchester tells her that she sent no mi
ssive."

  "That was you?" Julianna asked, her mouth dropping open with surprise.

  "That it was but I’m certain Lady Chesterfield will forgive me the moment you tell her we are to wed as soon as earthly possible." He kissed her and the sweetness of his mouth had her wanting to experience more of what he had to offer. "For she can take pleasure in her victory," he mumbled against her lips. "She is a brilliant woman."

  "Why do you say that?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  "Simple, she knew I loved you before I did."

  THE END

  ####

  About the author:

  An Army brat, Harris Channing traveled around the Southern US and Europe as a child before settling in Tennessee as an adult. Married with two children, she enjoys her family, reading, writing, and gardening.

  To discover more about Harris Channing please visit:

  www.harrischanning.com

  Other Titles:

  The Demon is in the Details (Mainstream Paranormal Romance)

  An Unwilling Baroness (Regency Romance)

  Yesterday's Indiscretion (Erotic Romance)

  Goldie and the Three Behrs (Erotic Romance)

  Curses and Kisses (Erotic Romance)

  Speed Trap (Erotic Romance)

  THANK YOU!