A Kiss to Remember

by Rebecca Minto

  Annalise sent Chrys an alarmed look. “James is not a bad person, Chrys!”

  “Perhaps not, but he is still a man. And men are cruel and thoughtless. Mama said so.”

  “S-she did?” Daphne had come to respect Lady Sinclair’s advice more and more as she remained married. She was a very wise woman.

  “Yes, of course. A wife is no more than property, after all. We have absolutely no rights whatsoever, Daphne. I pray I never fall in love with a husband.”

  Anna snorted. “But you would happily fall in love with someone else?”

  “Well, I hope not.” Chrys shook back her fiery hair. “I am coming to think is much more trouble than it is worth.”

  “Perhaps so,” Annalise agreed thoughtfully. “Still, Daphne is in love with him and wants to pursue him. Don’t you?”

  Daphne nodded slowly. “I wish he could love me back. Even just a little.”

  “How are you going to bind his heart to you if he never sees you?” Chrysanthe argued once more.

  “I told you, Chrys, Daphne will have him in the palm of her hand simply because he hasn’t seen her,” Annalise explained patiently.

  “What if he leaves?” Chrysanthe sent Anna a scowl. “I am telling you, that book is outdated. I know if I went somewhere to see someone and they refused to see me, I would leave at first opportunity.”

  “But you are a woman,” Annalise argued. “Men do not act in any way that makes sense.”

  “Nonsense,” Chrysanthe scoffed. “Your brother is capable of intelligent thought, Annalise. Soon he will know Daphne is trying to stay away from him, and he will wonder why. And if he still cannot figure it out, he will believe she would be happier being on her own. She probably said as much to him at one time or another.”

  “Oh, Chrys, do you think so?”

  Chrysanthe nodded firmly. “I do. Why not try what I suggested. Bind him to you by drowning him in what he likes best.”

  Annalise wrinkled her nose. “He likes being alone in his office best.”

  “He does not,” Daphne whispered. Two pairs of eyes turned to her. “His work is duty,” she hurriedly explained. “He does it because he must, not because he wants to…”

  “Well, what does he like?” Chrys smirked.

  Daphne flushed. “I…that is to say…um…”

  “How can you claim to love James and not know?” Anna demanded indignantly. This was her brother they were talking about.

  “Oh, I think she knows,” Chrys laughed. “Am I right, Daph? Is it bedsport?”

  Daphne buried her mortified face into her hands. “Oh, God, we cannot discuss this!”

  “Eww,” Anna screeched. “Please tell me you and James don’t do…that.”

  “Of course they do,” Chrys giggled. Anna looked horror-struck.

  “Daphne, how can you bear it?” Annalise wanted to know.

  She laughed weakly, slowly lifted her pink face. “It really isn’t all that bad. Actually, it is quite wonderful.”

  “I think it must be rather messy,” Anna said knowledgably.

  “You don’t notice such things, Anna. Truly, it is one of the most amazing things a woman can experience.”

  Chrysanthe had a foolish grin on her face. “You know, Daph, I think that’s just it.”

  “What?” Daphne and Annalise gasped in unison.

  “Apparently, you are quite fond of this copulation.”

  “Oh yes,” she breathed. She began to burn just thinking about it.

  “It seems reasonable that since you…” She sent Anna a mischievous grin. “That is to say…” She began to blush. “Oh, hang it! Apparently he enjoys it as much as you do else he would not have done it so much!”

  “He needs an heir,” Daphne argued.

  “Undoubtedly, but it goes to reason that he might perhaps enjoy the process of creating an heir just as much.”

  “Can we please stop talking about this? It is bad enough that I have to accept my brother is now wed. I do not think I want to imagine him… No offense to you, Daphne, but… This is James we are talking about!”

  Daphne laughed, not at all stung by Anna’s discomfiture.

  “You must seduce him,” Chrysanthe proclaimed.

  Her shoulders slumped. “How the devil am I to accomplish that?”

  Chrys sent a disbelieving look. “I would think you would know what to do by now.”

  Daphne blushed. “I do, but… That is to say, he was always the one to instigate matters.”

  Annalise stood up and slammed out of the room. Chrys snorted. Apparently, there were some topics too delicate for even the impartial Anna.

  “Supposing you do have a general idea of just how he instigates these, ah, things, consider you instigate them for a bit.”

  Daphne cleared her throat nervously. “I did try a couple of times.”

  “What happened?” Chrys asked curiously.

  “He didn’t seem to like it.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He grabbed me and… You know, I am not at all certain I should be telling you this.”

  “We’ve never had secrets,” Chrysanthe argued. “So he grabbed you and did other things to you?”

  “Yes, he seemed quite upset. I believe what I did was quite unacceptable.”

  “Do it again. Again and again and again,” Chrys ordered wickedly.

  “I cannot, Chrys! Whenever I try, he stops me.”

  “You mustn’t give up. I believe this must be very important.”

  “I tell you, he will stop me,” Daphne hissed, blushing furiously. She knew exactly what she wanted to do…but he simply would not permit it.

  “So, bind him,” Chrys snapped. “Tell me, Daph, what is it you want most?”

  Daphne lowered her head. “I used to think my freedom.”

  “And now?”

  Daphne raised her head, her eyes glistening with force of her emotion. “I want a real marriage, not this tragic farce. I want a husband who loves me at least as much as I love him. I do not want to fear asking the wrong question or doing the wrong thing. I want a man who wants to be around me and isn’t ashamed of me. I want a man who sees me as his equal, not as a piece of baggage she was forced to take on.”

  Chrysanthe nodded. “See? No matter how wicked it may seem, you must try! If you don’t, Daphne, you will be miserable the rest of your life.”

  “What if it doesn’t work?” Daphne whispered achingly.

  “Then we will try something else. Again and again and again, until we find the one thing that will work,” Chrys promised.

  Seduction? Dare she be so bold?

  * * * *

  James was having the most erotic dream of his life. Fire burned deep in his gut as her scent enveloped him in a lilac bower of liquid fire. He hummed low in his throat. Featherlight caresses stroked across his shoulders. In his dreams, he reached out for her.

  Sleep faded away as he tried to move his arm and found that he could not. He jerked awake, terror strumming through his system as he tried again to pull his arms down. They were held in a merciless soft hold above his head.

  “Easy, love,” she crooned. Her hands stroked a maddening path down his chest.

  “Daphne, what is going on?” James barked.

  Her tongue tickled his earlobe. “I am going to pleasure you, husband.”

  What little blood was left in his brain shot down to the organ between his legs. He groaned at the evocative images her sweetly whispered words provoked.

  “Daphne, untie me this instant,” he commanded hoarsely.

  She brushed her mouth over his, a butterfly caress that left him longing for more. Much more.

  He watched warily as her mouth found the inside of his elbow. He groaned as her tiny pink
tongue darted out to taste, as her tiny little teeth delicately bit.

  “Daphne—”

  “Sssh,” she soothed even as her hands touched him, stroking him into a maddening burn.

  It was the sheerest hell to see her there, perched above him. He saw the plump rise of her breasts, the silken glow of her creamy flesh. He was helpless to lay there, watching and feeling and unable to take as his blood demanded. Her hands were soft, stroking him into a frenzy of desire. Firmer still as they became more daring. Her lips, so pink and moist, following the trail after her hands.

  He groaned as her velvety curls draped over her bare shoulder to tickle at his chest, his belly, his thighs. As her fingers curled around his throbbing member, he closed his eyes and wept with the glory of it all. And then she kissed him.

  “Daphne,” he cried hoarsely as her tongue stroked up the underside of his shaft.

  “Mmm,” she murmured.

  “No, baby, I—”

  “You are so beautiful,” she crooned, ignoring his protests. “So long and lean and fit. I have always enjoyed your body, James. Did you know that?”

  He hadn’t, but that was not important. Still, a gentle ache in the area where his heart was supposed to be warmed. He shifted, aching.

  “Release me, Daphne. I’ll give you so much pleasure.”

  She smiled, eyes burning dark and liquid in the dark room. “My turn.”

  He didn’t know what she meant until her mouth found him. Suckling him deep, she took him. Inexpert, wet, tentative at first, then growing more daring until he had to hold his entire body tensed and erect to come spilling into her mouth.

  “Daphne,” he cried, her name a promise and a threat. “Baby, please…”

  Her hair spilled over his shaft as she moved up his body, laving at the taut stretch of his firm stomach. He inhaled sharply as her teeth grazed the hairy skin.

  “I love the way you taste.”

  Her mouth was at his shoulder, biting down hard, then gentling as her tongue soothed the abrasion, again and again until he thought he would go mad with the agony. It was highly erotic, it was maddening. Damn her, it hurt. He could feel every inch of her body pressed against his now. Her scent of woman and flowers bombarded him. She was just inches away, yet still out of reach. He was helpless but to lay there and accept her ministrations.

  She rose above him, straddling him, a rose-gold apparition. She slid down upon him, wet and sleek, pulling him inside her moist heat, squeezing. Wordlessly, she began, arching up and pulling back down, a rapid pace. Panting, he could only watch her as she threw her head back, golden hair spilling around her, breasts bobbing in time to the race of her hips. She pistoned rapidly, pushing him over the edge before she was yet ready.

  He shouted her name as he came, over and over again. Groaning, he tried to shift so he might still give her the release he knew she’d not had. She wouldn’t let him. She slid off him so that he felt the withdrawal acutely. Rolling to his side, she draped over him, kissing him briefly so that he’d barely tasted her before crawling out of his bed and shrugging into a robe.

  Without a word, she walked out of his chamber, leaving her aching husband alone in the dark.

  * * * *

  She was never doing that again.

  Silent tears spilled down her cheeks as Janice prepared her bath. Daphne felt filthy and defiled and she knew, without even the merest doubt, that she had no one to blame but herself.

  It had hurt her as she held him prisoner to her touch. She had loved touching him so openly, seeing his body, and yet the knowledge that he had lain with another woman had slashed at her until she’d wanted to weep.

  His shallow breaths, the way he had cried her name, had hurt so much more than she had thought they could. She hated what she had done. It had been raw and carnal. One body against another.

  Burying herself in steamy fragrant water, she scrubbed herself so fiercely her skin burned. She wondered if she would never feel clean again. She wept silently into her bath.

  James had always made love to her. She had never so empty and cold as she left him, bound to his bed. As she wiped carelessly at the tears, she reminded herself to remove the ties after he went to sleep. She would not leave him helpless.

  She was going to lose him, she realized. If she could not love him better than that pitiful excuse, she would lose the man she loved.

  If she hadn’t already.

  Chapter Thirty

  James rose early and went to his wife’s bed. He made love to her tenderly, a quiet desire, and he did not leave her until she was completely sated.

  Wordlessly, he washed and dressed and headed into his study. He poured himself two fingers of scotch and sat down at his desk. Not to work, oh certainly not. For the first time in a very long while, he was mostly caught up. What James needed was to think.

  Something was going on with his wife. He shook his head, smiling. He would never have a dull life, what with Anna and Chrys about. The three of them would always get into the worst kind of mischief. He was resigned to it.

  He was worried about Daphne. He did not know quite what to expect from her next. For days she had avoided him and, for no reason he could discern, she came to him in the night with an icy calm that had chilled him through. Frowning, he thought about that.

  Was she trying to teach him a lesson? Make him feel what she felt? If so, she had done a tremendous job, he thought sourly. She had aroused him, even as she enslaved him. He was already devoted to her, what more did she want? Did she want him helpless? Was that how he made her feel?

  Swilling his drink, he glared out the window, thinking about all that he had discovered. His wife was in danger. He had no more doubts about that. He knew she could not possibly know, but he had heard a few things in London. A few whispers had led him to ask a few discreet questions until he had joined in a deadly masquerade that had not yet unmasked the culprits responsible for making his wife cry.

  Rage flooded through him as he thought about it. Every single time he thought about how close she had come to being poisoned. Kidnapped. Run down. If he had not been so distracted before, he would have caught on sooner.

  His greatest fear now was that his fascination with Daphne might lead to her demise. He had to stay sharp, more now than ever. With both of them here at Cheney Fold, he did not doubt that her pursuers would soon come here. Let them try.

  Opening a drawer, he found his pistol. He patiently began to clean it as he waited. Although Mrs. Tibbs and the rest had been making fun sport of him the past few days—and he did not doubt that for an instant—he did not believe them capable of outright defiance of his orders.

  Sure enough, an hour later there was a timid knock on the door. He ordered a brusque command for them to enter and could only smile as Daphne shyly closed the door behind her.

  “Come here,” he ordered gruffly.

  Head lowered in either shame or obedience, he could not tell which, she circled around his desk and stood in front of him. James quirked his finger. She made a tiny step forward.

  “Closer,” he demanded.

  She took another step so that she was standing between his outstretched legs. She gasped when his arms wrapped around her hips and pulled her down onto his lap. Hungrily, his mouth lowered to hers. His lips worked over hers, insistent, until she opened her mouth to his questing tongue. His hand cupped her cheek as he gentled the kiss to a lingering caress of sweetness.

  James pulled back, smiling. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. “Good morning, wife.”

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” she squeaked.

  He playfully smacked her rump. “When are you going to remember my name?”

  She sighed. When she tried to stand, he tightened his hold, forcing her to remain in his lap. She gave up, folding her hands in her lap.

 
“Why did it take you so long to welcome me home, my sweet?” he asked her huskily.

  Daphne cringed. “I-I was busy, Your Grace.”

  James swallowed a chuckle. She didn’t lie at all well. “Is that a fact?”

  She nodded fervently. “Quite busy.” It wasn’t a complete untruth. She had been thoroughly absorbed in avoiding him.

  “So, it has absolutely nothing to do with whatever lies Annalise brought to you?”

  Daphne stiffened in his lap. Ah, so he had hit his mark with that one. He felt immensely better. At least he knew what was bothering her now.

  “Dare you to suggest Anna would lie to me?” Daphne cried, incensed. “She is my friend!”

  “Daphne,” James said gently, his lips curving with amusement, “I will be the first to agree that Annalise is above average intelligence, but even she is not given ear to my thoughts.”

  Daphne jerked out of his lap and began to pace. James sighed and leaned back in his chair.

  “Daphne, Annalise misunderstood something. It did not happen.”

  She marched past his desk, stomping so fiercely she had his papers fluttering in her wake. He placed a paperweight on top of them, patiently waiting for her to tire of her ire.

  She whirled on him then, placing her fists on her hips. “I am not nearly as stupid as you take me for, James!”

  “I never thought you were stupid, Daphne.”

  “Well, if you think for one minute I could not tell if Anna was lying…”

  He raised a brow.

  “…and furthermore, whatever foulness is in you to even dream to suggest my friends would do some a wretched thing…”

  “Daphne, I did not say she lied intentionally. Anna misunderstood something she saw—”

  “Misunderstood? Misunderstood?” she shrieked. “Some things simply cannot be misunderstood. Indeed, you are saying everyone in England misunderstands! I think not, sir!”

  “You yourself were victim of the foul misunderstandings and lies that cause scandals fierce enough to ruin a good man’s reputation,” he reminded her softly.