Once she’d fully accepted where she stood with James, putting together the rest of the pieces of her life had been relatively simple. She absolutely could not continue in the direction she had been heading before they met: assuming the dour role of hospital matron, coming home night after night to a dark flat to play maid to Bertie and George, their debt piling over her head like a ceiling about to collapse. And worst of all, dreading the day she would see James pass by on the street, only to feel her heart break all over again. She simply couldn’t bear it.
The Crimea had not been her dream, but she would do good work there. Her life would have purpose and meaning, unlike the fate she faced if she remained in London. When the war ended, well, perhaps then she would be ready to return to England.
“If you need someone to cook and clean,” she said, “there are any number of capable women in London who will manage that task for a fee.”
“And how do you suppose we’ll pay for that?” Bertie snapped. “You know the state of our financial affairs.”
Kate set down her teacup and faced him squarely. “Yes, I do. I know that father left us a sizeable inheritance. I know that you both earn more than enough to live comfortably. You could have taken wives and seen me off with a generous dowry. Instead you chose to gamble and drink away what security we had. I have borne the brunt of the consequences of your choices, but I will do so no more.”
George averted his gaze, fumbling his fingers along the edge of the table. “We didn’t intend for things to get this bad,” he muttered.
“I know you didn’t,” Kate said softly, taking his words for an apology. “But we must face our situation sometime, and today is as good a day as any other.” She slid the morning post across the table. “I’ve taken out an ad to let my room. That should help you with the finances. This is still a good house in a respectable neighborhood. As long as you keep the place as clean and orderly as it is now, you will have no trouble attracting a lodger.”
Bertie gave the paper a glance, then set it down with a resigned sigh. “When do you and Dr. Michaelson leave for the Crimea?”
“First thing Saturday morning.”
“And in the meantime, what do we do?”
“Carry on,” Kate replied, rising to her feet. “We shall eat a good breakfast, then be off to face the day. The two of you will report to St. Thomas and attend your patients. You will find a way to repay the fifty pounds you borrowed from Dr. Michaelson. This evening you will interview prospective tenants. I shall do my morning shift, then conclude my afternoon visits with Mr. Lancaster.” She drew in a breath, her heart aching as she forced a smile. “That shouldn’t be too painful, now should it?”
Owen ushered Kate into James’s library and shut the door. She stiffened in surprise at the sight before her. The room, which for weeks had served as a temporary bedchamber for a convalescent, had been restored to its original purpose. A sturdy mahogany desk replaced the bed which had been the site of their lovemaking. Though she had known their time together was ending, the stark reality of it was harder to accept than she’d imagined.
Unlike the rest of his home, which remained relatively bare, James’s library was richly appointed. This was clearly a room he enjoyed. The space was filled with dark furniture that had been polished until the wood fairly glowed, a dark chestnut tufted leather sofa, an Aubusson rug, and plush velvet drapes.
It was a thoroughly masculine chamber, as thrilling as it was intimidating, like stepping into the private lair of some powerful animal. Not at all like combing through Bertie’s or George’s room to collect their dirty laundry or gather up the used cups and saucers. This was an expression of James’s personality, a reflection of his quiet power and understated elegance.
James, sitting behind his desk attending to a ledger, looked up when she entered. He studied her for a moment, then put down his pen and smiled.
“Victory at last,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“From the day we met, I’ve been waging war against that hideous cap of yours. It appears I’ve finally won.”
She touched the brim of her new ivory silk bonnet. “It is lovely, isn’t it?”
“On you, particularly.”
A fleeting smile crossed her lips. Her gaze moved silently over James. He wore a navy jacket and fawn-colored trousers, a forest green cravat knotted at the throat of his white linen shirt. He not only looked breathtakingly handsome, but far more formal than usual, leading her to assume that he’d been out. She couldn’t stop herself from speculating where he might have been. A new investment? Meeting a friend at a club? Courting another woman? She pushed that last melancholy thought aside and sent him a crisp nod. “You look quite dashing as well.”
His lips quirked at the compliment. “Men are hulking, hairy beasts. Women merely tolerate the lot of us in order to avoid unpleasant chores.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. If it weren’t for the occasional burdens of shoeing horses, lifting heavy boxes, and pushing carriages out of the mud, I think you’d avoid us completely.”
“Oh, perhaps we’d find other uses for you.”
He stood and moved around his desk, propping one slim hip upon its surface. He reached for her hand and pulled her to him. She pursed her lips, expecting a kiss. Instead he slowly dragged his fingers along the length of her jaw, watching her with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. “I missed you yesterday. You write a very cryptic note, Nurse Riley. Everything all right?”
Kate’s throat went dry as she swallowed past a thick lump of emotion. “Of course. Just some personal business I had to attend to at the hospital yesterday afternoon.” Pretending her heart wasn’t a sinking weight in her chest, she said, “I see the room has been returned to good order. Putting that all behind us, are we?”
James arched one dark brow, a small smile playing about his lips. “Putting all what behind us?”
“Your...healing.”
“Now that’s an interesting term for it.” He drew his hands lightly up her arms, then brushed a soft kiss against her lips. He kissed her jaw, her earlobe, then trailed a line of feathery kisses down the silky column of her throat. “While I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of the day submitting to your fine healing skills, Nurse Riley, I’m afraid you have a busy afternoon planned.”
“I do?”
“Quite.” Releasing a sigh of regret, he tore his mouth away and placed a prettily-wrapped box in her hands. “While I toil away the afternoon at a meeting, you shall be doing something far more pleasant.”
Kate blinked at the box, then looked up at him. “Another gift?”
“Not precisely. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“Open it and you’ll understand what I mean.”
She pulled the ribbons free and lifted the lid. Inside she found a luxurious assortment of silk fabrics in samples cut to roughly one-yard lengths. “I’ve reserved those fabrics for you,” James said. “Mrs. Fortmeyer at Headaways Boutique has pulled those bolts from her stock until you make your selection.“ He watched as she ran her hand over stunning brocades and shimmering satins in tones of gold and emerald, sapphire and ruby. “You seemed to like the richer colors,” he said.
A rueful smile touched her lips. “Like a peacock.”
“No. Like a bird of paradise.” He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “In any event, I assumed you would want a new ball gown.”
She looked up at him. “Whatever would I do with a ball gown?”
“Dance, presumably,” he quipped. “My mother is hostessing a ball this Friday evening. It promises to be quite the gaudy spectacle. All patriotism and military fervor, a salute to the soldiers of the Crimea and the fine physicians and nurses who care for them.”
Kate made the mental adjustment. As James’s broken engagement to Miss Kittering no longer a cause for celebration, his mother had quite sensibly changed course. But, “What has that to do with me?”
“Naturally,
she insists both you and Dr. Michaelson attend. To that end, I’ve taken the liberty of making an appointment for you with Mrs. Fortmeyer at Headaways for a fitting, after which you are to go directly to Madame Leroux’s for another fitting, and then elsewhere for the proper shoes and accessories.”
“This Friday?” Kate said, her thoughts spinning. “Two days hence? It must cost a fortune to prepare a gown in such limited time.”
“Absolutely,” he replied breezily. “But I can afford it.”
Kate managed a small smile, recognizing the gift for what it was. It was a gesture of kindness, of gratitude. Of farewell. She would be there to watch him dance with other women, to watch other women flirt with him. Just as she had years ago. Only this time, it would positively break her heart. “We were at a ball together a few years ago,” she said softly. “Before you left for the Crimea.”
He frowned. “I’m sure I would have remembered you.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t have. I was quite the wallflower.”
“You? A wallflower? I sincerely doubt that.” He reached for a length of deep burgundy silk as he spoke, absently draping it over her shoulder as though attiring a roman goddess. Masculine approval flared in his eyes. “The color suits you.”
Kate put her hands to the cloth. The silk flowed through her fingers like liquid, softly shimmering in the midday light. She could only imagine how it would glow in a candlelit room.
“This was my favorite as well,” she said.
Wordlessly he pulled her to him and removed her bonnet, then plucked the pins from her hair, setting the long golden tresses free. He reached for the buttons on her blouse and divested her of the garment, a small smile playing about his lips as he admired the thrust of her breasts in her emerald green corset. “By the way,” he murmured as he loosened the waistband of her skirt, “you were due at Headaways five minutes ago.”
She eased his jacket off his shoulders, letting it puddle at their feet. “Should I leave?”
“Yes, you should.” He kissed her throat. “But for the money I’m paying her, she can wait.”
“What about your appointment?”
“Let them begin without me.”
She realized in that instant how well she had come to know his moods. How well she could read his expressions. Teasing and playful one minute, intelligent and thoughtful the next, and of course, the smoldering hunger she read in his gaze before he touched her.
Her initial attraction to James, the lusty thrill of joining their bodies, had been but a prelude to something far deeper. Desire had become lust, and lust addiction, changing her in a way she hadn’t been able to foresee. Simply put, she hadn’t understood the profound connection between the body and the heart.
She had fallen deeply, hopelessly in love. Abandoning propriety and common sense, she had recklessly thrown herself into a situation over which she had no control. Unfortunately the outcome of their affair was predetermined. James Lancaster, youngest son of a viscount, was a member of a society that did not include her.
He’d made her no promises. He’d merely allowed her a glimpse of a world she’d only suspected existed. A world of passion and heat and arousal. A forbidden Eden. He’d given her a secret taste of something that was not meant to be hers. She would not hold it against him. Nor would she regret that she couldn’t have him any longer. He would leave her life as he’d entered it, a gentleman. For that, she could only feel grateful.
Kate reached for his cravat and gently loosened the knot, tugging it free. They had every reason to rush, yet neither of them seemed inclined to do so. They moved with leisurely grace, taking turns dispatching various items of clothing, kissing and caressing one another as they scattered their discarded garments to the floor.
Finally they were both naked. Until James, Kate had never guessed the male form held such raw sensual appeal. She drank in the sight of him, lingering over his long, lean physique, his muscular thighs and broad chest, his rippled stomach. Such a feast for the senses. Knowing how those muscles quivered beneath her touch, she trailed her hand lightly down his chest and belly, then wrapped her fingers around his erect penis. His cock stiffened, his length growing thicker and harder within her grasp.
James let out a deep, contented sigh, instinctively grinding his hips against her palm as she stroked his erection. After a moment he gently brushed her hand away and wrapped his arms around her back. He pulled her body tightly against his own, locking her in his embrace. He bent down to capture her lips with his own, sweeping his tongue into her mouth in a kiss of bold, possessive fire.
Not breaking the contact of their mouths, James scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the sofa. He settled her in his lap so they were facing each other, with Kate straddling his thighs.
“Ah, God,” he breathed. “Just look at you.” He brushed her hair out of her face. “Your eyes...your lips... your nipples are as dark and ripe as the silk.”
He took them into his mouth, one by one. He kissed her breasts, her collarbone, her throat. Clutching his shoulders for support, Kate rocked her hips against him, brushing her quim against his erection, trapping his throbbing cock against her belly. A shiver of anticipation tore through her body. She felt hollow inside, her need echoing between her thighs, a pulsing demand too overwhelming to be ignored. She was hot, slick, so ready for him.
Drawing herself up, she centered her quim over his cock then slowly lowered herself, enveloping the tip of his penis in her tight, wet sheath. Her inner muscles clenched around him like a fist, drawing him deeper inside her. She slid her hips lower and lower until she had taken him completely, the dark golden curls of her sex damp with her desire.
Kate raised herself up, then slid down his length, her breasts rubbing his chest as she pumped a steady, rhythmic beat, taking his cock deeper and faster within her. James let out low moan. He reached her her clit, already swollen and slick, and massaged it with his thumb and forefinger. Lightening hot sparks coiled up Kate’s spine. Her body tensed. She read the signals that her pleasure was near. She closed her eyes and arched her back, writhing against him, her muscles clenched in anticipation of the orgasm that would sweep through her.
James stilled her hips. “Promise me you’ll come.”
“I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.”
“I meant, to my mother’s ball.” Even with her eyes closed, she could hear his wicked smile.
“I promise,” she said. It would be a beautiful way to say goodbye.
He eased her hips lower as he drove himself into her. Her climax, when it came, was shattering.
Chapter Eleven
At eight o’clock Friday evening, a carriage arrived at Kate’s flat conveying two women from Headaways Boutique: one to assist her in dressing for the evening, and one to help her bathe and style her hair. The luxury, arranged by James, was both unexpected and deeply appreciated. She emerged from her chamber an hour later feeling thoroughly pampered.
And, for the first time in her life, truly beautiful. Gone was Kate the dull, drab, and dutiful nurse. In her place was the woman Kate had always dreamed of being. Strong and confident. A woman who lived without regrets or recriminations.
Her hair had been swept up, piled high atop her head in a mass of thick golden curls, with a few of the soft tendrils allowed to escape and cascade over her left shoulder. The burgundy silk wrapped around her generous curves, expertly hugging her body to emphasize her lush womanly form. The fabric brushed her legs as she moved, rustling against her thighs like a lover’s whisper.
James, James, James. The single word pulsed through her with every beat of her heart. After an absence of two days, she would see him again tonight.
Bertie and George had not been there to see her off. She had hoped enough residual affection remained between them for a personal armistice, but apparently it wasn’t meant to be. Instead, it was Dr. Michaelson who accompanied her to Lady Lancaster’s ball. Their carriage deposited them at a Mayfair mansion that was fairly aglow w
ith candlelight, bustling with servants and guests.
It was a warm evening; doors to the ballroom had been thrown open to allow cooling breezes to sweep the room. Music drifted out to greet them as they mounted the steps to the manse. They’d missed the beginning series of quadrilles, Kate noted, recognizing the opening notes of a waltz.
As they stepped into the ballroom, Kate felt as though she were walking into a scene that had been carved into her memory. It was all so familiar: the dizzying array of enormous gilt mirrors, the elegantly dressed crowd sweeping effortlessly across the dance floor, the candlelight and the servants, the stunning floral arrangements and the scrumptious array of food. It was almost too lovely to bear.
And there, in the center of it all—or at least it appeared that way to her—was James Lancaster. Tall, muscular, and strikingly handsome in a way that went beyond mere attractiveness. It wasn’t just his dashing uniform, or the way the candlelight warmed the streaks of gold in his thick chestnut hair, or the laughter that sparkled in his deep blue eyes.
He exuded an air of carefree virility, a dynamic combination of wealth, poise, and masculine confidence. He was the magnetic axis around which the females in the room spun and swayed, desperately vying for his attention.
It was exactly the way she remembered it, only this time, the scene had changed. Kate was no longer the wallflower she’d been in the past. As she strode into the room on Dr. Michaelson’s arm, heads turned. A low murmur followed in her wake. James, alerted to her presence by the stir she created, looked up.
His gaze locked on hers. For a moment the rest of the room shrank away, leaving only the two of them. Then he smiled. His lips curved in his slow, wicked smile, the smile she loved best. The smile he used before he removed her last item of clothing. Before he petted and caressed the most sensitive spots on her body. Heat infused her cheeks and her heart rate doubled.
Perhaps another woman would have the strength to resist him, but she didn’t.
Out Of Her League, An Erotic Romance Page 12