Her fingers cupped him.
Her simple touch nearly sent him over the edge. He had intended to scare her away.
“Yes,” she breathed. “I want you, too. Please, Alex. Take me. Allow me to have one night of passion.”
The last of his resolve crumpled beneath the weight of her simple request. Without another word, he picked her up and headed for the stairs. He ran up the stairs, her warm body cradled against his chest. A moment later they were enclosed in his bedchamber. He closed the door, put her down and pressed her back against that door and kissed her senseless.
Chapter Seventeen
Mia clung to Alex as he kissed her. His touch—ah, his touch was mesmerizing. If she wasn’t so muddleheaded by the sensations, she would simply want to focus on the way his fingers moved across her skin. As it was, his hand’s slow movements up and down her arm scattered gooseflesh. Her nipples hardened, and an undeniable ache had settled between her legs. She wanted to part them for him, wrap them around his waist, press herself to his hard body and seek whatever release he could bring her.
She had never before experienced the sensations rushing through her body. As if every minuscule part of her, inside and out, had awakened. His kiss was electric, hypnotic and nearly made her forget her own name and where she was.
Nearly.
But she did remember. Right now she was pressed against Alex Foster’s bedchamber door, his own body molded to hers and his mouth and hands were doing things to her she could never have imagined.
His lips left hers and moved down her throat, trailing hot sweet kisses across her collarbone and to the tops of her breasts above her dress. Never before had she paid much attention to her clothes. What did it matter what she wore, as very few people ever saw her? But here in his bedroom with his hands on her, she was quite aware of the common wool of her dress, the simple cut, meant for comfort and practicality rather than to flatter her figure. She did not know what she looked like anymore, but she knew she wanted him to think her beautiful. Wanted him to look upon her and see her as desirable and lovely.
She wanted him, wanted him in the way that a woman wanted a man. It had almost seemed as if she were not capable of such sensations. She’d gone so long without even the thought of male companionship, without so much as conversation with a man, let alone the possibility of seduction.
But right now the Duke of Carrington was thoroughly seducing her. His hand reached up and cupped her breasts and she arched into him. She knew enough about what happened between a man and a woman in the bedchamber. She’d been privy to that talk once between her mother and eldest sister, Cleo. Of course, neither had known she had been in the room or that she could hear them. She’d hid under the bed and listened to every graphic word her mother had shared.
She’d said that the marital bed could be pleasant, but it was primarily for the intent of reproduction and to persuade your husband to seek only your favors. As an adolescent, Mia had been simultaneously fascinated and horrified at the act her mother had described. But now she understood and even more so, her body understood, craved the joining of their flesh.
“I want to see you,” Alex said, his voice raw with desire.
Mia nodded, unsure if she could speak. She sucked in her breath and hoped that once he unrobed her he would be pleased with what he saw before him.
With deft fingers he undid the fastenings on her dress and slid the fabric off her shoulders. She’d long since given up on corsets; it was far too difficult to fasten them and she preferred dressing herself. So beneath her dress she wore only a shift, chemise and bloomers. Once he’d removed everything, she stood before him completely exposed. Though the room was warm from the newly stoked fire, her skin prickled with a chill.
He was silent for several moments and she wondered how she appeared to him. She knew she was thin; she’d always been on the slender side, not nearly as curvaceous as it was fashionable for women to be. She suspected that was still the rage, the small waists and gentle sloping hips with cleavage that demanded attention. All she could think about was her narrowness and his silence was deafening. He was disappointed, he had to be else he would have said something before now, reached out to touch her. She wrapped her arms across her body and closed her eyes. She could not see him, but part of her wanted to shut him out, not allow him to see her.
“Don’t cover yourself,” he said, his voice still rough. His warm hand traced down her shoulder to her elbow, then reached over to unfold her arms. He held them to her side. “You’re beautiful.”
She exhaled slowly, relief flooding through her limbs and making her feel weak-kneed. “Truly?”
“Do you not know, Mia, how beautiful you are?” His fingers moved across one breast down her flat abdomen, where her muscles contracted beneath his touch. “Your face is stunning, perfectly sculpted as if by the master. Your cheeks so proud and high, a testament to your noble blood. Your lips are full and rosy, practically begging for a kiss.” He kissed her then, slow and passionate until she could scarcely breathe.
“It is hard to deny them.” He gave her soft kisses, then light nips with his teeth. “Your skin is creamy and flawless, not a blemish or mark in sight and so soft and lovely. But it is your eyes. Open your eyes for me, Mia.” She did as he bade. “Your eyes are stunning, hard to look away from. The shade of blue is so rare, like a priceless gem. Yes, you are most assuredly beautiful.”
“People always commented on my eyes when I was a child,” she said. But the only thing that mattered right now was what he’d said. He thought her beautiful. The thrill of knowing that nearly made her want to go out and dance in the street. More importantly it made her want to say yes to his proposal, to beg him to ask her again. But marriage to Alex would only bring heartache. Tonight, though, tonight she would be his. And she knew there was much more of this seduction to come and she didn’t want to miss a moment of it.
His hand reached around and pulled her thick braid to the front of her, draping it over her shoulder. He undid the fastening and began to thread his fingers through the braid, loosening the plait and pulling her hair back together. “Your hair is thick and lustrous and the color of roasted chestnut. And you have none of the bothersome curls that so many of the women wear. It’s natural and heavy and wonderful.”
He moved behind her, weighed the heavy curtain of her hair in his hands, pulling the pressure of it off her neck, then letting it fall back against her bare back. He pulled her to his chest, he remained fully clothed and the linen of his shirt brushed against her breasts. He placed hot kisses on her neck and the tops of her shoulders. She leaned her head against his body.
“And I haven’t even spoken yet about your body,” he said. He reached around her and cupped both of her breasts.
His lengthy description of her attributes both pleased and surprised her. Normally, Alex was a man of few words, but when he wanted he could be quite poetic.
“Your breasts are perfect.” His thumbs traced over her nipples. “Your nipples are the most luscious pink against the creamy paleness of your skin. And your narrow waist, long legs,” he said, his hands leaving her breasts to skim down to her waist. He turned her to face him. “You are beautiful, Mia, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
He kissed her again, his hands cupping her face. The tenderness of the kiss in the midst of their passionate foray brought tears to her eyes.
In that moment, she realized with terrifying clarity that she could fall desperately in love with him. If she was not careful she could give her heart to this infuriating man, knowing full well he’d never return the sentiment. And though she knew the risks, both to her heart and to her body, she wanted him to take her. Bring her to his bed and for one night show her what it would be like to be loved by a man.
With more confidence than she’d realized she had, she pulled him tighter to her. Pressing her body against his. “I want you,” she whispered.
He chuckled, low in his throat. He grabbed her hand, linked his fin
gers in with hers and pulled her further into the room, toward the bed, she hoped.
He led her until she stood in front of the bed, she could feel the soft coverlet tickle at the backs of her knees. “I want to feel you,” she said. “I can’t see you, but let me feel you.”
He’d removed his jacket downstairs in his study before they’d danced. So now he wore just his shirt and waistcoat. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and slipped it off his shoulders then began to work on the buttons on his shirt. Then she removed that. The muscles tensed beneath her hands as she began her exploration of his body. His shoulders were impossibly firm and so broad, he was no doubt quite the specimen. Strong, athletic and dashing in every way.
“You must be very popular with the ladies,” she said. She continued her exploration, moving down his chest along the hard plank of his abdomen, outlining each muscle as she went. Her mouth went dry. She’d never before touched a man, only ever running her hands along the statues of men in the statuary park. But unlike those men of stone, this man was very much real. Though his muscles were equally sculpted, his flesh was warm and moved beneath her fingers’ exploration. Crisp hair tickled her hand as she trailed down his stomach.
Her hands slid around to his back. Strength emanated from him, the sinewy expanse of his back was just as firm and sculpted as his chest and abdomen had been. His body was beautiful. Her fingers reached the waistband of his breeches and he sucked in a breath.
She reached for the fastening on his trousers, but his hand stilled hers. “Wait,” he whispered. He picked her up, then laid her down upon the bed. At some point he must have pulled back the coverlet as her body sank directly into cool silky sheets.
The bed shifted beneath his weight as he lay beside her. He still wore his trousers. Frustrated, she ran her bare legs against his clothed ones. “Alex, I want you to make love to me. Take off your trousers.”
“Patience,” he said. He nuzzled at her neck, licking and biting her tender skin. His hands explored her, teasing her nipples, then moving downward. His fingertips tickled her abdomen as they skated across her skin.
Then his hot mouth trailed behind his hands. Stopping first to suckle at her breast. She bit down to keep from crying out.
Mia forgot about everything around them when Alex’s kisses reached her belly button. Warm breath slid over her like a blanket of sin.
Certainly he would not put his mouth there . . . but then he did. Hot and moist kisses in her most intimate spot. She fisted the sheets beside her and tried to squeeze her legs together. But his persistence wore her down and soon she’d relaxed into his kisses. Her mind swam until the edges of coherence blurred and she could only feel. Oh, he had a devil’s tongue.
Her fingers found their way into his wavy hair and she shamefully held his head and mouth against her. The intensity built and she squirmed, trying in vain to make it happen faster, bring the sweet torture to an end. When he slid one finger inside her, she thought she would come undone. The precipice was only a breath away. She bucked against him. His tongue slid across her tenderly as he slowly withdrew his finger, then moved it back in. Again and again he repeated it until Mia thought she’d go mad from the sweet torture.
Until finally, blissfully, the climax came, washing over her in one crashing wave after another. She shuddered beneath him, whimpering and whispering his name again and again.
“You are perfect,” he whispered.
***
Alex wanted to take her, wanted to tear off his trousers and plunge into her with no thought of what such an action might mean. Taking her would destroy her virtue. Hell, what he’d already done to her had ruined her, but at least her virginity remained intact. Since she’d refused to marry him, it was the least he could do for her.
She lay in his arms, reeling from her climax, and he focused on his breathing to keep from touching her further. She had asked him to make love to her and he thought carefully about what he should say in response.
“I remember you being such a handsome young man, but you must be oh-so-dashing now,” she said.
Perhaps he wouldn’t have to say anything about it after all.
She had explored his face once before, but as her hands reached up and cupped his cheek and traced his jaw, his heart clenched. He closed his eyes and focused on her every touch, the sensations her fingers evoked.
“Your features have softened, there are no hard frown lines or tight jaw now. You’re relaxed,” she said.
“Wait, you said you remember me. From when?” he asked.
“From when we were younger. Before my accident. I saw you riding your horse. We had family near the Carrington estate. When we would visit in the summer, sometimes you would be in residence as well. In any case, that day I was supposed to be riding with my sisters, but you were so striking, I had to stop and watch you. You were so proud sitting upon your steed, a true duke in the making.”
“But I was not intended to be the Duke, you realize. That fell to my older brother, Stephen,” Alex said. Even now, he felt a pang of anger at his older brother’s foolishness. It was a similar situation that had gotten Stephen into such trouble. Of course Mia was not another man’s wife, but Alex still had no right having her in his bed.
“You were destined to be Duke, Alex. You’re a born leader, a true aristocrat,” she said.
Knowing how she felt about Society in general, he wasn’t so certain that was meant to be a compliment.
But then she smiled. “You probably didn’t know that a skinny, awkward girl was watching you from the trees. One thing I never did get to see, though.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Your eyes. I wasn’t close enough to determine their color.” Her thumbs traced over his eyebrows. She laid her chin on his chest and he stared into her amazing blue eyes.
“My eyes are nothing special. They are brown. And I’m told I frown too much,” he added.
“Of that I’m not surprised. You were frowning that day you rode. And now your voice sounds as if you are frowning much of the time,” she said. “But not tonight.”
“You can hear frowns in my voice?”
“You’d be surprised what I can hear in the tone of someone’s voice.”
He wasn’t certain how to respond to that. She seemed to know so much of him, in ways that no one else ever had. It was simultaneously disconcerting and comforting.
“Are you not going to . . . I mean are we not . . . that is, are you not going to make love to me? Completely?” she asked.
“I want to, more than anything. But I cannot,” he said.
“Because of your intended?”
“No. Because of you. Because I don’t want to take such liberties with you. You are a virgin, Mia. Without marriage on the horizon, I don’t want to ruin you.” His hand slid down her body. “There are other things we can do.”
It was on her mouth to protest, to argue that if he wasn’t going to make love to her then she was going to leave his bed, but his kisses seared down her flesh and the argument died in her throat.
Chapter Eighteen
The Ripper had looked at the sculpture of the woman for days. In his mind he had given the stone woman color and breath until she became as real to him as any woman on the street. She became a token to remind him of the witness out there who’d seen him work, a witness he needed to destroy.
But right now he wasn’t looking for her, she was no longer at her cottage in any case. He’d checked. Several times. No, right now he had his eye on the pretty brunette walking down the alleyway. She’d just left her employers, a pub at the edge of Piccadilly, the Duck and the Dog. The barmaid was as pretty as she could be and soon she’d be his.
He’d only recently found this place, thanks to his new acquaintance with Andrew Foster. Granted they never spoke, Jack merely followed quietly behind, watching and waiting. He’d been waiting for the right opportunity and tonight it had been handed to him. Drew had flirted openly with the barmaid that evening and she’d not ta
ken kindly to his advances. She’d been sent home early.
The Ripper was waiting.
He picked up his pace, the girl looked behind her shoulder at him, then turned back to the front and sped up. He would catch her. She was a petite little thing and her stride would have nothing on his. He proved that very thing when he caught up with her in three long steps.
“Where are you going so quickly?” he asked.
“Home, my lord,” she said. She pulled at his arms, holding her into place. “Please allow me to go.”
Her dark cloak wrapped around her slight frame and the hood covered most of her dark brown hair. A few stray curls, tufted from the damp weather, stuck out around her face.
“Not just yet,” he said. “I require assistance.” He held firm to her arm.
“I’m not like that, my lord.” She shook her head violently and again tried to free herself from her grasp. “I can’t. I’m intended to someone. My Phillip. There are others at the Duck that will attend to you, my lord.” Her eyes widened and searched around them, looking for anyone to give her assistance.
But Jack knew that no one would protect her from him. They would believe she was nothing more than a disobedient servant and turn the other way.
“Phillip, I see. And can this Phillip provide for you the way a true gentleman can? I don’t think so. Why don’t you come over here with me.” He looped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her snug against his greatcoat. To anyone passing by, he would look like a gentleman protecting the young woman.
But no one walked passed them. A pity. He would have enjoyed seeing the girl’s reaction. Would she have asked a stranger for assistance or simply remained silent and allowed him to take her? Perhaps had she found someone to save her, he would have let her go, disappeared into the darkness and found another girl. But, as it was, they were alone in the alleyway. The gaslights on the main street flickered.
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