Passion

by Gayle Eden

  Dragging her mouth from his, she moved her hand to his sides, feeling his heat and strength while arching her neck and whispering only heaven knew what, as he so slowly, so easily, thrust in and out so the length of his finger was brushing walls inside that contracted against it.

  “Christ.” He panted as if having been holding his breath. Then his thumb touched what he had stroked before, and he took Caroline out of her head with the rubbing of it, between his finger easing in and out.

  Feeling herself contract against it, she worked feverishly at his buttons until she could reach his bare skin—carved, so hot. She ran her open mouth over his collarbone, tasted his skin, feeling so wicked, so very sexual that nothing but what he was doing to her seemed right.

  Blaise eased up a bit, giving her access to his nipple, his finger holding inside of her while she experimented, licked and then finally suckled. When her teeth sank onto it, he muttered huskily and moved back, turning, widening her legs—then his head was going down—between them.

  With a small cry, a shattering moan, she arched up.

  His fingers held her open, his mouth was there, licking, rubbing, and one finger teased her opening before she felt lightening race through her and explode.

  Caroline heard his moan, was aware he laved and tasted her through the climax. She was intoxicated with pleasure.

  Blaise raised and turned, kissing her deep and sensually. He took the hand that rested on his side, moving it, showing her where he wanted touched.

  He was rock hard and though she had never touched a man before, Caroline wanted to touch him very badly.

  With a few whispers while intimate kisses were exchanged, he unlatched and wrapped her fingers around the thick velvet hardness. More kissing, tasting tongues while she felt the power in him, the strength and potent maleness as his cock slid through her fist. He eased down and had his mouth on her nipple, his fist over hers.

  “You’re so hot, so soft, you feel so good.” She whispered, lost still, on a wave of carnal pleasure.

  She heard him husk, “Oh, God…” in a manner much like she had feeling him pleasure her, before he lifted himself over her, between her legs. There was not enough room, but she welcomed him there and held her hands against his spine as he rubbed the head of his sex against her.

  His frame trembled and his dark breathing sounded against her temple before he uttered hoarsely, “You’re a virgin…”

  “Yes.”

  He muttered something before sliding once, twice and then shuddering, the groan in his throat low and throbbing.

  It was afterwards, when they had washed themselves, Caroline having to find the water decanter, making use of his handkerchief, and then handing it to him. He held her against him while she half lay on the sofa. His shirt was off and her gown still open, his palm massaging her breast.

  “I didn’t think I could still….that I could...” He sighed and pressed his lips against her hair before managing quietly, “You’ve taught me much about intimacies, for a virgin.”

  She smiled. “You’ve certainly enlightened me, Captain.”

  His fingers flexed over her breast, and he nudged her up. Caroline faced him, finding his expression fascinating.

  “How long can you stay?”

  “I should have left already. But... an hour more, no longer. I’ve….somewhere I must be tonight.” She reached tentatively up and removed his glasses a moment. “I knew they’d be beautiful.”

  He smiled but took the glasses and put them back on.

  “They’re golden.”

  His thumb was rubbing across her nipple. “I wish I could see yours. See your curls all mussed and your face flushed.”

  “How do you know—“

  He laughed with a flash of strong white teeth, “I know.”

  Her hand had dropped to his chest and while petting there, she whispered, “I didn’t know I could feel what I do when you kiss and touch me. I didn’t know I could…feel, what happened just a while ago.”

  “Neither did I. Bluntly speaking, I’ve spent myself on a female or two, but never felt the compulsion to do more than that. I’ve been called selfish and cold.”

  Fascinated by that, unable to imagine it because he kissed and touched her so very pleasingly, Caroline returned, “I’m glad it is me, you want… more with.”

  “I’m glad it is too.” His hands cupped her face. “I could kiss and taste, touch you, for hours. I love your scent, your sexual scent too. I liked the way you made those sounds and your body trembled with pleasure.”

  She felt her body stirring again. “It’s like…being famished, isn’t it? You hunger for it beyond anything else.”

  “Yes. With you, it is.” He leaned and kissed her, kissing her long and sensual. When she was breathless, he parted and murmured in her ear, “Shall we see what pleasure there is to be had in an hour?”

  “Yes. Oh yes.” She kissed his jaw, his neck, laving his skin. Caroline could stay with him forever, but knowing she did not have it, made her want him all the more.

  “Mmmm.” He put his legs on the sofa and hauled her to lie atop him, his hands under the skirt of her hopelessly wrinkled gown. Cupping her pert backside, he invited huskily, “Touch me…feel me…”

  Caroline shivered, feeling a surge of feminine arousal and power. She took full advantage of that invitation, rubbing, molding, kissing, and mapping his torso with hands, fingers, lips, and tongue.

  At his lower stomach, she bit him lightly and heard his groan. Before it was all said and done, she made him groan louder. Gone beyond girlish fancies of being worshipped and now knowing whatever she thought of (marriage,) it was not this part, this intimacy, with a man. She went plunging willingly into the adult world of attraction, erotic hunger and feminine need. Caroline found that the deeper she plunged into it, the more carnal she felt.

  He treated her as a woman, always had, just a woman, and it freed her in some sense. It unleashed a side of herself she might never have discovered. This had nothing to do with lady-like, and everything to do with primal pleasures. His body was sculpted, hard muscled and perfect with masculine potency.

  She spent time, learning his taste, feeling the supple crown of his sex with her lips, and experiencing an incredible sense of wonder as he told her exactly what it felt like to him, and how she—only she—made him feel, whole.

  All inhibitions fell away from both of them.

  Blaise repaid her attentions tenfold—turning her into a wild creature, even making her beg just a little. He turned the proper, biddable Lady that the ton considered faultless, into a woman who threw her head back, spread her silken legs for him, and held his mouth to her, circling and raising her hips to get everything he offered.

  Caroline climaxed the second time with a low groan in her throat, a woman’s knowledge that it was a pleasure not to be missed—and the man who brought her there, smiling a sexy, rather cocky, white smile, at the end.

  Caroline basked in the afterwards, too.

  There was power in sexual womanhood, but there was also glory in surrendering to the skill and hungers of a man too.

  He laved his sensual lips and murmured deeply, “Now that, I’d risk death, fight a war blind for.” His hand was tangled in her damp hair, wildly mussed, and the other going over her flushed, shapely, curves. “You’re not only a beautiful creature on the outside, you’ve an untamed and wondrous spirit in there that took me places, I’ve never been.”

  Oh, that pleased her beyond anything. Caroline smiled and sighed, whoever would have thought it!

  Still holding her tangled hair, he kissed her throat and dragged his tongue down it, shuddered, groaned in a masculine purr, “I could eat you up. In fact, I think I will, one more time….”

  And he did.

  * * * *

  It had been a wretched morning.

  Jules missed the drop off at the park, thanks to oversleeping for the first time in his life. He took his ride, then went to his club and attempted to read the papers
—mostly still filled with speculation about the fires, which had destroyed only Stratton’s ship and house and outrage as to the content of the flyers about Stratton’s doings, which were reprinted word for word. Scandals abound and denials too, given that there were important names tied to illegal activities. Still, Jules simply wanted to have his coffee and cheroot, and get his bloody life back.

  One of the waiters delivered a note to him on a tray with his coffee. Preoccupied, Julian opened it and scanned the explicit drawing of himself and a faceless male, before wadding it up and shoving it in his jacket pocket. It was a warning. He understood that. Furious, his stomach tight, nerves raw, his gaze was more frigid than ever leaving the club and heading homeward—where there was a note from his Grace, Duke of Coulborne awaiting him.

  He read the summons, the suggestion he escort Lady Caroline that night, and saw the brilliance of it. For all he felt his own life on the edge of ruin, the perfect distraction for society would be to speculate on himself and Lady Caroline. Despite his haughty character, (in his mind, a point of pride because loss of control equaled messy—the blackmail was clear evidence of that) many insinuated with smiles or winks, that they would make the perfect match, since Caroline was the epitome of a well-bred English deb.

  Jules understood Bordwyc’s unspoken message too. Not only would Caroline have a reliable escort whilst his Grace was from town, it was the Duke’s way of telling Jules he would approve, whenever Jules got around to the formalities of asking for her.

  At least something in his life was on track.

  Jules had to double his efforts to keep it that way, thanks to Raith’s actions, and his father’s preoccupation. He fully understood that Lady Caroline would have to do the same.

  Although he was sure that young lady was likely shocked by her father’s affair, and having such a woman, even if she was a half-sister, in her house. All that he had observed about Caroline Bordwyc was that of a typical gently bred woman, a darling of society, and favorite at court. Admirable, by anyone’s standards. He had no clue what her father actually told her, and still had not gotten the full story of the woman’s involvement in Raith’s life either.

  At home, Jules let the valet do his magic, his green eyes this time in the mirror, trying to look back through time and figure out who the bloody hell he would have made that scandalous mistake with. The drawing was a bold move, a clear threat, and one that made Jules’s blood run cold. It made his teeth grind too, that he had no defense, no clear memory to challenge it with. It went against everything in him to submit to this threat, however.

  One thing he could do well was perform his role in society. so after a final brush of invisible lint from his shoulders, a comb through his straight raven hair, and a nod to the valet—who had him in formal black and white, perfect snowy cravat, and high polished boots—Jules pulled on white gloves fetched his cape, and summoned his coach.

  Looking out the window, on the ride, he decided he would check on Raith before going home after the assembly. His father had gone every day, and he indicated that now lucid, Raith was resisting the idea of leaving London. Not bloody wise, considering they’d found contraband in his house. It so frightened Artis, that the Duke had his own servants move it to some mysterious location. He had dismissed his son’s staff, and locked up the house.

  Jules’s smiled slightly, having seen a different Duke of Eastland lately. If Raith thought his father was going to retreat or give up on him, he was sadly mistaken. Artis was determined that if not the country, then Raith would be under his roof in town. It was not as if Raith could run off. He was virtually immobile with all the plaster and splints.

  In thinking of seeing him, Jules also thought of Harriet, which he had done too much of lately. She was true as her word, excellent apparently, with a more than difficult patient on her hands, and discreet on every front.

  He still did not know what she had been up to that had taken her to Stratton’s that night. He found himself musing on their—exchange—more often than he was comfortable with. He had enough on his plate without adding his intrigue with Harry. So long as he stayed on course, everything would right itself.

  His Grace’s butler showed Jules into Coulborn’s study a bit later. Jules bowed to the Duke and then greeted Lady Caroline, who stood by the windows.

  Bordwyc arose from his chair and waved Jules to one across from him. “Good of you to come, Stoneleigh.”

  “Not at all, your Grace.” Jules nodded.

  Elbows on the chair arms, the Duke steepled his fingers. Those blue eyes looked pensive. “I hope I haven’t presumed too much, but as I must leave town, at least for a bit and Caroline has agreed that she must keep her schedule…”

  “I would be pleased to put myself at her disposal.” Jules knew all the right things to say. “And yours. Whatever I may do to help.”

  “Excellent. I do feel more confident and at peace knowing Caroline will not be in this alone.” His look was full of meaning. “Since the both of you have earned respect and admiration, enjoyed such an excellent reputation in society, if I may be so bold, it serves several ends, to have the two of you seen together.”

  “I understand perfectly. And agree.” Jules nodded.

  The Duke looked at Caroline, but Jules did not. He watched the older man say, “Caroline is being very understanding of my….situation. I am blessed with her.”

  “Not at all, father. “ He heard Caroline’s proper accents. “I would be enjoying the season in any event. And of course, you must go and take Gabriella for a nice rest…in the country.”

  Jules almost smiled. Yes, Caroline knew all the proper code too. It pleased him.

  He heard her say, “It’s an honor to have the Earl of Stoneleigh as escort. I’m sure we’ll get on famously.”

  When the Duke smiled, he turned to Jules. “There you are then. All is agreed.”

  After a brief brandy, he wanted to ask the Duke questions about his other daughter. He did not get a change though, because a friend of the Duke’s stopped by and conversation was halted on any personal score. Instead, the Duke explained for the visitors sake, that he would be absent from town whilst he attended some estate business. Too soon, it was time for Jules and Lady Caroline to depart for the assembly.

  * * * *

  They arrived in the midst of a crush and received the expected amount of looks, raised quizzing glasses and nods of approval. Inside, there were receiving lines to navigate. They did so famously, his having her hand on his arm, and the both of them making all the proper efforts to attest he was indeed escorting her.

  He could almost hear the whispers over the breakfast table the next morning. Certainly, the nods and smiles of approval were abundant. It worked like expected, as it always would when a wealthy peer and an heiress—thus far unattached, showed up somewhere together.

  Jules distantly noticed that Lady Caroline’s color was high and her eyes sparkled, the hue matching the wispy blue silk gown she wore, with long elbow-length white gloves. Her hair was up in a riot of curls, held by a diamond band. Tiny diamonds were in her ears and edging the fashionably, low-cut gown.

  He blamed his diverted state for the fact he noticed she moved…differently, as if conscious of her body. Which was an utterly ridiculous idea for a proper, virginal, heiress. Nevertheless, he caught her smiling mysteriously several times, preoccupied certainly. Though they moved around and spoke, nodded, he had the distinct feeling she was as mentally/emotionally absent from the gathering as he.

  Dare he suggest, Lady Caroline was… dreamy?

  Things grew more peculiar as the night wore on. Certainly more strained between them. Other than polite conversation and inane observations, they spoke little.

  At one point, after sipping champagne she said to him, seemingly out of the blue, “I hope you don’t intend to snub my friends, Stoneleigh. Because, I won’t take kindly to it.”

  Arching his jet brow, Jules blinked once and drawled rather coolly, “I’m sure you’ll find
I seldom bother with…snubbing…my lady. I certainly don’t have time to censure who you have tea with.”

  “Good.” She sounded somewhat breathless. “Because we both know there are flaws enough in our own families. Too many, to go casting stones at others.”

  At a loss, Jules assumed this was some backlash from her father’s affair. He did say, “I highly doubt you encounter anyone who is not acceptable to myself, or anyone else. As to the other, I would advise you to forgo speculating on either of our families in a crowded ballroom.”

  He hoped he was mistaken when he heard her breathe, “What an odious prig.”

  However, when he murmured icily, “I beg your pardon?”

  She cocked a brow at him and smiled fake and stiff, blinking her lashes annoyingly. “Nothing. I was simply saying that I enjoy all sorts of friendships. Interesting ones. Ones I choose myself.”

  Still at a loss, Jules nodded curtly and excused himself. He changed his champagne for brandy and drank half down in the Duke’s study, managing to get through the night, even a dance with Lady Caroline, without a misstep.

  On his way to Harry’s later, to see Raith, he assured himself again that both he and Caroline were expert at the rules and appropriate behavior in society. All that was required between them was a respect and formality. He put her odd statement down to the strain of what each family was going through. It helped if they could pretend to like each other—though nothing, ever, should appear as vulgar as familiarity or affection, without a formal announcement of the matrimonial kind.

  He grunted at that and gazed out the coach window. He certainly was an expert on that score. He knew all about being cold and detached.

  Jules exited his coach several blocks up and walked the rest of the way. After a discreet knock, he entered Lady Harriet’s abode, hearing her call from behind the cluttered tables, and finding her sitting in a low chair by the fire, with a book in her lap.

  The tables and the towering shelves around her, made her seem quite cozy in her Hodge podge nest.