The sound pleased him. He liked knowing his touch had made her cry out. He wanted to hear it again. His tongue swirled around her nipple before he took as much of her as he could into his mouth and suckled her. Immediately, she arched up into him, the moan rolling from her throat exciting him even more.
He switched his attention to her other breast, and another mewl passed her lips. The sudden thought that she might be feigning her pleasure made him raise his head to look at her face. Deep inside, the old fears told him he’d find her laughing at him—mocking his inexperience. Instead, her expression of pleasure reassured him.
She didn’t find his touch repulsive. Her eyelids fluttered open and he saw passion darkening her violet eyes. The look made his heart slam into his chest as his hand slid downward to caress her hip. She arched against the touch.
“I like what you’re doing,” she said in a low and throaty voice. “But I would like it even more if you would kiss me more intimately.”
“More intimately?”
He frowned as he looked at her and followed her gaze downward. Sweet Jesus, she was asking him to kiss her cunny. He’d heard Charles talking about kissing a woman’s sex, but he couldn’t remember too much of the conversation as he’d been quite drunk at the time. Still, the thought of stroking her with his tongue excited him.
A new scent mixed with her sweet perfume as his hand lightly brushed over the baby soft skin at the apex of her thighs. The sharp breath she inhaled indicated her excitement as his fingers gently parted her soft folds.
“Stop,” she gasped. He immediately froze and jerked his gaze up to meet her sultry look. “That nub of flesh you’re touching. If you pay special attention to that—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish speaking and rubbed the sensitive spot gently, yet firmly. The moment he fondled the small piece of flesh, she writhed against his hand. Another moan echoed out of her, and a sense of power sailed through him at the intensity of the sound. He wanted to hear it again.
Quickly shifting his position on the bed, he planted himself squarely between her legs. While still playing with her, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh. He studied her face as he pressed his mouth against the inside of her leg, while stroking her with his thumb. A creamy substance coated his fingertips as he continued to play with her.
As he slowly kissed his way down her leg to the inner crease where her thigh met her hip, the look on her face made his blood pound its way through him. It engorged his cock, stretching him until he experienced a painfully acute pleasure. He recognized the precipice he was on, and he faltered. He was on the verge of exploding, and he didn’t know how to keep from coming. How could he possibly please her if he spilled his seed now?
“Garrick, look at me.” Her quiet command brought his head up to meet her understanding gaze. “You want me, now, don’t you? You can’t wait.”
“Yes,” he rasped.
“Then take your clothes off.” He’d bent her leg at the knee and jerked as she ran her toe across his covered erection. “I want to feel your cock inside of me.”
He recoiled from the touch, terrified she’d be able to tell he only had one ballock. The old memories returned as mocking laughter filled his head. He couldn’t let her see him. If she realized what a freak he was . . . he shook his head at the fear rising up inside him.
“No.” His voice was hoarse with panic.
“Please,” she whispered. “I need you inside me now.”
The words were a soft cry of passionate need, and he ached to obey her request. His entire body was shouting out for something he knew was within his reach, but he was afraid to take that last step. Frantic with a mixture of desire, need, and fear, he glanced around the room, for what he had no idea.
“It’s all right if you don’t want me to see you.” Under the soft, reassuring words, he could hear the husky note of urgency in her voice. “There’s another scarf in the drawer.”
It was the crutch he needed. A way to keep his secret and yet possess her body. In a move that he recognized as being clumsy at best, he left her on the bed to retrieve the scarf. Seconds later, he was standing over her. Violet eyes looked up at him and a part of him cried out in protest as he blindfolded her. What he really wanted was to stare into her eyes as he plunged into her, but he knew better. He’d already taken more risks than he’d ever dared before with a woman.
Staring down at her, he drew in a sharp, deep breath. Tied and blindfolded, she was an erotic sight that tempted him in a way he’d never dreamed possible. His body was on fire as heat streaked through his veins. In seconds, he freed his cock from his trousers and knelt between her legs.
Hands braced on either side of her, he couldn’t help kissing her sex. He wanted desperately to please her. His tongue slid between her damp folds, to taste her. She was white-hot against his lips, and she cried out as he savored her. Christ Jesus, he’d never thought a woman could be such a tempting morsel. He wanted to taste every inch of her. His mouth moved upward to caress her stomach then on to her breasts. The moment he captured a nipple in his mouth, she whimpered. It was a sound of pleasure, and he loved hearing it.
An instant later, his cock jumped as she bent her knee again, her foot glancing off the tip of him. Roughly, he forced her leg away from him, and with one hand guided his rod between her slick folds. A mewl of need poured out of her as he pressed into her. As he slid deeper, it felt as though her body was clutching at him, pulling him into her. It was an incredible sensation. His hand had never given him even one tenth of this kind of pleasure.
Blind need suddenly crashed through him and he withdrew before plunging back into her. Her tight grip was an exquisite friction against his cock, clenching around him like a hot vise. What little control he had slipped as he realized how close he was to exploding. Unable to help himself, he began to drive in and out of her with fast, frantic strokes.
In seconds, a familiar rush made him stiffen and he exploded inside of her. The swiftness of his climax made him grimace with self-disgust. He’d not been able to hold his seed long enough to bring her to satisfaction, although he wasn’t really sure what that entailed. Humiliated by his poor performance, he retreated from her and quickly pulled his trousers back on, hiding his diminishing erection.
When he’d concealed himself, he quickly undid her blindfold and freed her from the bed. Feeling like a schoolboy who’d failed to perform a simple task, he turned away from her and moved to stand at the fireplace. He stared into the flames with regret. He was a fool. He should never have allowed her to convince him to make love to her. His uncle had been right all along. He was half a man, and his performance just now proved it.
“Thank you.” The scent of her wafted its way over his shoulder as she came up behind him. Shame prevented him from looking at her.
“For what?” he rasped. “It was a miserable performance by me at best.”
“It was your first time. It takes practice to become a skilled lover.” The gentleness in her voice didn’t soothe his embarrassment.
“It was a mistake to think I could make love to you.” He continued to watch the blue and yellow flames dancing across the logs in the hearth.
“But you did make love to me,” she said quietly. “And I promise you, the next time will be even more pleasurable. For both of us.”
“There won’t be a next time,” he ground out fiercely. The moment the words were out of his mouth, he flinched. The thought of not touching her again was a crushing blow.
10
Ruth stepped away from Garrick to pick up and shrug into her robe. A quick glance over her shoulder showed him still standing in front of the fireplace. The stark white of his shirt emphasized his dark features and black hair. His head bent, he stared into the flames as though contemplating some dark fate. It served to intensify the dangerous edge of his sinful good looks, but it was the bleakness to his posture that made her heart ache. Not a good sign. She needed to avoid growing attached to him.
; She bit down on her lip at the thought. There had been other lovers in the past that she’d tutored in new techniques, but never a man who was completely inexperienced. There was something exciting about the idea of initiating him into the art of lovemaking. It was like starting with fresh clay and creating a work of art.
In Garrick’s case, it meant teaching him how to please her. No, how to please another woman. She needed to remember that. In the end she’d be alone again. It had been that way since her mother died. That wouldn’t change because there was no permanence to her life. Every man who’d entered her bedroom had always left. Garrick would be no different.
As long as she remembered this was a temporary arrangement, she could take pleasure in his company and his touch. And dear God, the man’s touch was like a hot flame burning her skin. She couldn’t recall ever feeling the kind of desire Garrick evoked in her. Perhaps it was because she’d sensed his lack of experience, and it aroused her.
She drew in a deep breath and turned to go to him. The moment she laid her hand on his arm, he jerked his head in her direction. She smiled at him and gently pulled him toward one of the chairs in front of the hearth. He hesitated.
“I should go,” he bit out in a rough voice.
“Not yet,” she said quietly. “It’s considered rude to leave a woman’s boudoir so soon after leaving her bed.”
He nodded sharply and allowed her to guide him to one of the pale blue wingback chairs. His tall frame engulfed the chair, and her heart skipped a beat at how handsome he was. She studied him in silence as he stared at the crackling flames in the hearth. He seemed completely oblivious to her presence, his expression morose. Her heart went out to him.
The man seemed convinced that his lovemaking was worse than lamentable. He was clearly ashamed of his body as demonstrated by his refusal to let her see him naked. Refusal wasn’t the right word. He’d seemed paralyzed by her request more than anything else. Helpless almost. The look on his face when she’d told him to undress had been nothing short of sheer terror.
At first she’d thought he was uncomfortable with his size, but the moment he’d slid into her, she’d found herself skidding along an edge of pleasure that had been a delicious torment. He’d been thick and hard between her thighs. And even though his climax had come quickly, she knew once he gained more experience, he’d drive her mad with want. The thought was both intoxicating and frightening at the same time.
With him settled in front of the fire, she went to a small sideboard in one corner of the room where she always kept cognac for her lovers. As she opened the doors, she saw a plate of cheese and hard bread. Dolores. It confirmed what she’d thought from the moment she’d first seen Garrick in her room.
Her maid had been instrumental in seeing to it that he had entrance to her bedroom. She knew she should be irritated that her friend had conspired with Garrick, but she wasn’t. The plate of cheese and bread in one hand, and a tray holding the cognac and glasses in the other, she returned to the fireside. The moment he saw her full hands, Garrick quickly rose to take the tray of liquor from her, the glasses rattling slightly as he set it on the round table between the chairs.
With the small repast on the table, she poured him a glass of the French brandy and offered it to him. As his fingers brushed across hers a shock of electricity raced across her skin. The sensation was enough to make her tremble as she filled her own glass. It was unlike her to drink, but she suddenly had the need for something to steady her nerves. Although the expensive liquor burned as it sped down her throat it served to restore her composure.
She turned her head to study him. His profile was shadowed somewhat, but the firelight revealed his strong, angular jaw. The sensual line of his mouth was a tempting sight as she remembered how exquisite his lips had felt against her skin.
“I suppose I’m a creature of curiosity to you,” he said bitterly without looking at her.
“Not at all.” She tilted her head to one side. “Actually, I was thinking how lucky I am.”
Startled, he turned his head to arch his eyebrow at her. “Lucky?”
“Yes. Of all the women you could have chosen to be your first lover, you chose me.” She sent him a mischievous smile. “Besides, I have never cared for Mrs. Campton, and to know that you chose me over her is quite exuberating.”
He laughed, and the sound pleased her. At least he wasn’t looking quite so dour, and his laughter softened the harsh planes of his face. It was easy to understand why the women he’d never bedded had lied about being his lover. She knew what it was like to feel the sting of his rejection.
But of all the women in the Set, she was the privileged one. He’d chosen her as his tutor. There was more than a little sense of triumph at the thought, particularly where Louise Campton was concerned. The woman had insulted her on more than one occasion, and there was little love lost between them. Her gaze focused on Garrick, and she was happy to see his features had softened.
“There, that’s better,” she said softly. “You look much more relaxed.”
“Do I?” The note of skepticism in his voice made her send him an admonishing glance.
“Yes. I want you to always feel comfortable here.” She took another sip of brandy as he studied her for a minute before returning his gaze to the fire.
“I always feel that way when I’m in your company, Ruth.” It was a simple statement that warmed her heart as she studied his profile.
“I’m glad.” She smiled as she leaned forward to see his face in its entirety. There was still a grim twist to the corners of his mouth. “Tell me about your family.”
The question made him look at her in surprise before a small smile curved his sensual mouth. It was a mouth designed for pleasuring a woman until she was begging for a release only he would be able to give. The images flooding her head made her swallow hard, and she set her glass down on the table in order to regain her composure. When she looked at him again, his expression had lightened somewhat from the morose one that had darkened his features a moment ago.
“You’ve already met Lily. Who, by the by, will be abjectly humble the next time she sees you. She’s sincerely sorry for the pain she caused you.”
The statement caught her off guard, and her eyes widened before she quickly looked away from him. The unpleasantness with his sister had been distinctly uncomfortable for many reasons.
“Her visit wasn’t a new experience for me, and I’m certain her heart was in the right place where you’re concerned. Just as it should be.” Unwilling to discuss the matter further, she swiftly diverted his attention. “And the rest of your family?”
“Vincent is our bookworm. He has a habit of spending more time in our library than socializing with the Set. Although he’s recently developed a fondness for certain soirees where a particular young lady is present. Something I intend to discuss with him when the opportunity presents itself.” A dark scowl crossed his face.
“Isn’t that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?” she scolded gently as she smiled at him. “As I recall, you weren’t all that happy with your sister’s interference in your relationship with me.”
“Lily’s interest in my affairs was inappropriate. She’s not the head of the family. I am. And it’s my duty to ensure that my siblings marry people who will love and care for them properly.” His mouth thinned to a firm line as an expression of unyielding determination hardened his handsome features.
“An admirable goal, but the heart cannot be dictated to,” she said quietly.
“Perhaps not, but I’ve seen to it that Grace will be happy, and I am determined to do the same for Vincent.”
His omission of Lily made her frown. Was Lady Lynmouth’s marriage an unhappy one? Ruth knew little about the Earl of Lynmouth as the man rarely came to town, and Lily’s appearance at St. Agnes’s had been the first time she’d met Garrick’s sister. Had his attempts to ensure the happiness of his siblings been far from successful?
“And Lily? You were a
ble to ensure her happiness?”
The sudden expression of regret on his face told her Lily’s marriage was anything but happy. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the chair. The sorrow emanating off him made Ruth reach out to touch his arm in a silent show of support. He didn’t open his eyes.
“Lily refuses to discuss Lynmouth with me or anyone. I would never have consented to the marriage if I’d thought she would get hurt.” There was a touch of despair in his voice that emphasized how responsible he felt for his sister’s happiness.
“You’ve always looked after them, haven’t you?”
“Beresford, my uncle, wasn’t a pleasant man. I once saw him whip a stableboy not quite as old as me until the boy’s back was stripped of flesh.” He emptied his brandy snifter, which Ruth quickly replenished. “I learned to draw the man’s wrath down on my own head in order to keep the others safe from harm.”
“Did he beat you?”
“Sometimes.” His expression was unreadable as he nodded his head.
The brusque response said Garrick’s uncle had done much more than beat him. Clearly, the man was a monster. She didn’t know how, but she was certain Beresford was responsible for Garrick’s emotional emasculation. Whatever his uncle had said or done to him, Garrick had come to believe that women would find his body repulsive in some way. And she was certain it was why he’d refused to bare himself in front of her.
A sudden sharp pain pierced her breast and made her draw in a quick breath. Sweet heaven, if Beresford had violated—no, please God no. Did she even dare ask the question? She swallowed the knot in her throat. Not only was it none of her business, but she’d said she wanted him to be comfortable here. Asking pointed questions would accomplish nothing, and would only make him feel ill at ease. He would tell her what he wanted . . . when he wanted.
His secrets were his to share or keep hidden. More importantly, she wanted to offer him sanctuary and peace, something she was sure he’d not had a great deal of in his life. Suddenly she wanted to cry, and she turned her head just a bit to swipe away a tear that had escaped. A strong hand grasped her forearm to tug on it gently. She jerked her gaze back to him.
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