Once Upon a Kiss (Book Club Belles Society)

by Jayne Fresina

  Once again the patient uttered no protest to this idea.

  Glad to be given a responsibility and a chance to prove herself, she nodded firmly. “I shall then, Papa. If you think it’s best. Just until he sleeps.”

  Her father smiled at the man in the bed. “I leave you then in the capable hands of my daughter.”

  ***

  The rain continued all day and the light was dim in his chamber, so she brought two lanterns upstairs for his bedside. As she moved around his bed, administering a compress for his sore head, preparing a steaming bowl of aromatic water to clear his nose, and feeding him beef broth, she was very serious for once, efficient and firm. No nonsense. He pondered his good fortune in having such a devoted nurse.

  Mary would not want the duty. When anyone was sick she stayed as far away as possible—even from her own children, leaving them to the care of the nanny or nursemaid. Miss Milford was successfully kept at bay by the fear of contagion. For a woman whose main enjoyment came from sticking her nose into the business of others, being kept off her feet and confined to bed would be torture. Although she came knocking at the door for progress reports throughout the day, he sensed her motive was not truly to see if he improved, but to ensure he really was sick.

  As if he might possibly make up a fib to delay leaving Hawcombe Prior.

  Really!

  Bearing in mind that Miss Milford’s first sight of Justina had been of her drawers, he thought with some amusement that the lady probably also wanted to ensure his nurse kept all her clothes on.

  “Does Dr. Penny always provide his patients with dedicated caretakers?” he asked Justina, as she prepared to take his supper tray downstairs. “Even for a cold?”

  “Only when the patient is very important and very rich,” she replied with an arch look over her shoulder.

  “His fee will be great then, I fear.”

  “Of course. We must take advantage of you while we have you, Mr. Wainwright.”

  When she left the room, Miles came in to see how he felt and to report on Sir Mortimer’s training, which had become a battle of wits between the complacent, pampered beast and the complacent, pampered gentleman.

  “How is your nurse?” he asked with a wily grin.

  “Quite exceptional and very strict.”

  “You sly wretch.”

  “I cannot think what you mean, Forester.”

  “Oh, of course not.”

  “Please send her back up to me.” He coughed. “I’m sure my fever has increased.”

  Miles left the chamber, laughing.

  ***

  She was on her way up to the patient, carrying a jug of water, when she encountered Lady Waltham on the small half-landing at the turn of the stairs. Lost in her thoughts, Justina did not see the other woman until they almost collided in the dim light. The wall paneling was heavy and dark, with dying daylight barely strong enough to creep through the narrow window above them. There, shrouded in shadow, Lady Waltham cast a frightening figure. She might have been one of those suits of armor come to life and made its way down from the long gallery. Her large, ungainly form blocked the second flight of stairs.

  “Excuse me, Lady Waltham.”

  For a long moment she did not speak, and seemed in no haste to move, either. Finally she opened her hard mouth and snapped out, “I know what you are, Miss Penny.”

  Justina squinted. The jug in her arms was becoming heavy. “Oh?”

  “And I know that men will have their playthings. It is a necessary evil to which ladies such as myself and Miss Milford must turn a blind eye. But I hope you know that this is a temporary diversion for him. He would never marry the likes of you.”

  What could one say to that? In fact, many retorts came to her mind, but she decided to let none of them out.

  “He will marry Miss Milford. Or if not her, another lady of similar breeding, class, and fortune. A lady I need not be ashamed to invite to my parties and balls. You, my dear girl, are merely a last minute rebellion for my stepbrother. Oh, I can see the attraction for you. No doubt he has spent money on you and your family. I have heard from Miles Forester all about my stepbrother’s plans to put a new roof on that broken-down barn where you and your friends entertain yourselves for lack of anything else to do. His attention must have done much for you. But it will not last. Such things never do.”

  She swallowed. Her hands had slipped, but she managed to keep hold of the jug.

  Lady Waltham’s eyes looked dry and hot as they bore down upon her. “You do not deny it then? That you are his mistress? That you have schemed and seduced your way into his bed while no one was here to watch over him?”

  Suddenly she wanted to laugh, but curbed it. Shoulders back, head high, she replied, “I do not believe it is any business of yours what I am to Mr. Wainwright. If I am his mistress, you have declared me to be a necessary evil, so what is your purpose in asking me? Or do you want details?”

  The other woman shook like a kettle about to blow its lid.

  “Excuse me, Lady Waltham.” This time she nudged her way by and continued up to the second floor of the house. As she turned the corner, she encountered a startled looking Miss Milford who, she had no doubt from her expression, had heard the entire conversation.

  Since there was nothing to say that would not get her further into trouble, she nodded to the lady and walked onward with her jug of water.

  Thirty-one

  “There you are!” he exclaimed. “What took you so long? I sent Miles to fetch you half an hour ago at least.”

  “Oh, hush. You’re not dying.” She put the jug down on his dresser.

  “Your father made it sound as if I was.”

  “I told you, he said all that so he could be justified in charging you a heavy fee.” She came to the side of the bed. “We’re after your money, of course.”

  Fists pushed into the mattress, he eased himself higher against the pillows and let the bedcover fall to his hips. If she had noted his nakedness, she made no comment on it, but he never could bear to sleep in clothes of any kind and had only worn a respectable nightshirt in the presence of her father.

  “Did you tell your stepsister about our unfortunate meeting in Bath, by any chance?” she demanded, the words leaping out suddenly.

  “No. Why on earth would I tell her?”

  Walking around his bed, she ran her fingers over his coverlet and then gripped an oak post. “Lady Waltham thinks I’m your mistress. Where would she get an idea like that?”

  A quick laugh bubbled out of him. “Perhaps it has something to do with finding you climbing out of my bedchamber that day.” Then he made his face solemn again. “She did warn me that I’ll have to give you up before I marry Miss Augusta Milford.”

  Her lips parted, her eyes widened.

  “Apparently Miss Milford would never allow me to keep you. Or Sir Mortimer Grubbins.” It was a struggle now to keep a straight face, but fortunately he’d had years of practice. “I’ll have to find someone to take you both off my hands.”

  His nurse was watching him thoughtfully, her eyes smoky. “I see you have removed the flannel nightshirt,” she said. “You’re hardly likely to sweat the fever out of your body if you sleep in the nude.”

  “But I can’t stand to have myself all twisted up in a nightshirt. You know that. You’ve seen me in bed before.”

  A light flush passed over her face, but she was trying very hard to be all business. It was quite charming. “Yes, I remember,” she admitted finally.

  Darius stared up at her lips. “Is it not time you kissed me today, Miss Justina Penny? I have not had one for at least four and twenty hours. You do not abide by our agreement.”

  “But you have a cold!”

  “I’m sure your kiss will help me improve.”

  She shot him a dubious look. “Are you really sick?”
/>
  “Of course! Would I lie? For what purpose?”

  “To gain my sympathy.”

  Capturing her hand, he held it firm, wrapped in his long fingers. “Don’t you want to know about Nellie Pickles?”

  She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut quickly. She nodded, her eyes shining.

  “Then come sit here.” He tugged lightly on her hand until she sat on the edge of his bed, by his pillow.

  “Very well, where is she? What became of her? Tell me, Darius!”

  He held her captured hand to his chest. “Show me your stockings first. I was musing this morning on how much I have missed seeing them lately.”

  She gasped. “If you say things like that, ’tis no wonder your stepsister thinks of me as she does.”

  “Well, you have shown them to me several times. Unbidden. What can be the harm in it today?” The more he teased her, the easier it became and the more he enjoyed it.

  “There is nothing special about my stockings today.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, madam.”

  “They are plain linen, not silk.”

  “Show me.”

  After another pause, which he suspected was more for effect than it was a sign of her modesty, Justina wriggled her skirt to her knee and lifted her nearest leg to the bed. “There! See? Now, Nellie—”

  “Higher. I want to see the garter.”

  Her eyes gleamed down at him as he watched her from his pillow, and that was almost as arousing as the sight of her slender, shapely leg. “What for?”

  “Are they pink silk?” he demanded.

  “No.”

  “Damn and blast. Oh well, show me in any case. I suppose I must make do.”

  She was apparently about to comply, when she stopped. “Wait just a minute, Darius Wainwright. You taught me a lesson before. About bargaining.”

  “I did?” He lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed them.

  “Yes. To never fulfill my side of a business transaction while negotiations are still underway. So you must tell me something before I proceed.”

  Darius was pleased to hear that she’d listened to him for once. Ridiculously pleased. “Then I shall tell you…that Nellie is not dead. She is alive and well.”

  Justina stared hard, studying his expression. “Oh.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  She shrugged finally. “Of course not. So where is she? Why did she leave?”

  He ran his lips over her knuckles again, drinking in the sweet taste of her skin. “Garters first.”

  Exhaling a quick, unconvincing gasp of annoyance, his nurse slid her skirt and chemise higher until her white ribbon garter was exposed just below her drawers. Darius turned onto his side. Still holding her fingers to his lips, he lifted his other hand and placed it boldly on her knee.

  “Continue,” she gasped out. “Your turn.”

  He licked between her fingers and let his hand stray upward, moving smoothly along her thigh to her garter. Good God, he did not know if he could restrain himself today. Even weakened by a bad cold, he felt inspired to misbehave with this woman. She was a terrible influence upon him, he mused happily.

  “Nellie left to be married.”

  “Married? I don’t believe—”

  His fingers had found the bow tying her garter and began pulling on the knot. It was very tight and with one hand it was virtually impossible to untie.

  “She wouldn’t. Who would marry Nellie?”

  “Garter. Off.” He was thinking about using his teeth if need be.

  With a groan, she replied, “I need my hand back to untie it.” So he reluctantly released her fingers and she tackled the ribbon while he watched. She drew her knee up and her skirts fell back to her hips as she chattered, “I do not recall poor Nellie having any suitors.”

  As soon as her garter was untied, he put his hand on the linen stocking and rolled it down. Leaning closer he kissed her knee, then her bared thigh.

  “Darius.” Her voice was low, husky. “What are you doing?”

  “Teaching you more about negotiations. And sweating off my cold at the same time.” He ran his tongue across her thigh, while his hands continued rolling the stocking all the way down over her calf to her ankle. “Nellie married the gardener who used to work here. They moved to Beaconsfield together. That’s why she left. Come closer.” He reached around her hips and slid her further onto the bed.

  “The gardener!” she exclaimed. “Really? Georgie Cropper? I would never have believed it! I am truly amazed.”

  “Hmmm.” He moved his hand. “Good.” He liked amazing her and intended to do it often.

  ***

  His long fingers slipped between her thighs and she felt his hot palm over her linen drawers, holding her. She was on his bed, one stocking off, her skirt up around her waist. Her heart was thumping so fast and so hard, she thought the people in the rooms below must have felt it vibrating the staid wall paneling.

  Justina leaned back into his large, plump pillow and let him explore with his hand. She was damp there; she felt it. The delicious heaviness of want had mounted as soon as he laid fingers on her leg and now, as he caressed her so intimately, even with her drawers in the way, the sensations grew quickly beyond her control.

  “They have three children already,” he whispered, moving her drawers aside to kiss her inner thigh. “It seems they didn’t waste much time.”

  “Gracious!” she gasped out, parting her legs wider, not knowing what he did, but liking it very much.

  His mouth moved upward again now, following the path of his hand and those strong, flexing fingers. His lips kissed her drawers, right on the wet spot where she ached the most, at the apex of her thighs. With only that thin barrier of material between his flesh and hers, he licked slowly, deliberately, until she lost all capability of speech. Her heel pressed into his mattress, she raised her lower body, arching impatiently and thrusting. He held her wrists down on either side of her body and proceeded to tend her with his careful tongue until she hissed and squealed, losing her breath and any last shreds of her dignity. She wanted to remove her drawers completely and was considering suggesting it, when he stopped and rolled away onto his back.

  “You won’t leave the room a maid, if this continues.”

  “Then you should not have started,” she pointed out, breathing hard, waiting for the trembling to cease.

  Justina glanced over at the man lying supine beside her on the rumpled bed and saw his arousal lifting the sheet that had fallen over his hips as he rolled away from her. Of course, as he’d pointed out, she already knew he slept as nature intended. But he had been wearing a nightshirt when her father was there. At that time he had acted the part of the innocent and oh-so-proper gentleman, who would never dream of bribing a lady into removing her stockings.

  He was indeed a cunning menace, and very sweet upon the eye in his current state of naked vulnerability.

  These, she thought, must be the “activities of a mutual enjoyment” he’d once mentioned to her.

  Justina decided it was her turn to play.

  ***

  He had his forearm across his eyes when he first felt her hand on his manhood. He froze, held his breath.

  He should stop her.

  But he did not.

  Her hand rubbed slowly up and down the twitching length of his erection as it lifted the bed sheet and grew further still.

  “That’s enough, Justina,” he groaned, still hiding his eyes. “Stop now.”

  “Do you really want me to?” she whispered. “When you’re already bound to be in trouble…”

  How could he answer? Inside his head the voice of conscience roared at him to stop her and send her out of his room. But his body objected strongly to the notion of pushing her away, and his heart, which she had wounded before with h
er tongue, still clung pitifully to hope.

  Now, copying what he had done to her, she lowered her head and gently kissed the arching sheet, directly over the bulging crest of his manhood.

  “Oh, it’s warm,” she said.

  He took his arm away from his eyes. “Yes.”

  She kissed a little further down. “And very hard,” she added.

  His fingers clawed at the sheet beneath him, gathering the material in tight bunches.

  “It looks painful.”

  He laughed hoarsely. “Is your arousal painful?”

  She considered this, her head on one side while she ran her fingers up and down his arching length through the sheet. “Only when it’s left untended.”

  He turned his head on the pillow to look at her. “Then it is so for me, too.”

  Justina slipped the sheet off him so suddenly, with no warning, he hadn’t even the time to cover himself.

  And then after an amazed gasp, her mouth descended once more.

  He couldn’t breathe. His throat was on fire. Dear God, or the devil—or whomever was responsible for this—what was she doing to him?

  Apparently she was an adept pupil. Having experienced the way his mouth brought her pleasure, she now returned the favor, licking and then gently sucking. Cautious at first, she was soon much bolder, caught up, it seemed, in the naughtiness of the act.

  Darius reached down and held her soft curls, letting them run through his fingers and alternately twisting them around his hands.