by Jane Goodger
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. My God, he had loved this girl for as long as forever, and she was in his room and he knew what she was saying. Perhaps she didn’t realize entirely how dangerous this situation was, but he knew. He knew that when an innocent woman went into a man’s room late at night wearing nothing but a gown and wrap, she was not going to leave innocent.
“Never what?” he asked, his voice harsh.
She dipped her head and worried her hands together. “I shall most likely marry Lord Northrup.”
He hadn’t been expecting that, and whatever ardor he had been feeling, which was quite a lot, was doused, or very nearly so. “Why?”
She blinked, and he realized he’d nearly shouted at her. “Because I was engaged to marry him and my parents are very pleased that he is here, hat in hand. I was supposed to have married him and nothing really has changed. Not his affection for me nor my affection for him.”
God, something was squeezing his chest and it hurt like the very devil. “Do you love him?”
Her response was immediate and satisfying. “No, I do not. But I do like and admire him and I daresay I’m not going to have too many more chances at finding a suitable husband.” The word suitable seemed to Henderson to hang in the air, a thick, ugly word. She looked at him almost as if she were beseeching him to understand. “I want my own household and a family. I’ve wanted that for as long as I can remember.”
“With whichever titled gentleman offers such a life to you,” Henderson said, unwilling to stop the cynicism he felt.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Then why in hell are you here, with me, wearing nothing but your gown? You do realize it is wrong for you to be here, that if someone were to discover you, the consequences would be more than dire. You do try me, Alice. And I believe you know it.”
She had the good grace to blush. “Yes, I know.”
Henderson placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I believe you should go back to your own bed, Alice. Because if you insist on staying, you’ll soon be lying in mine.”
* * *
Alice knew what he meant; she was not a total innocent. “I…I just wanted to say good-bye,” she said in a small voice, and he dipped his head and let out a long sigh.
“No. You are not a naïve sixteen-year-old anymore, Alice. That is not why you came to my room tonight.” Then he furrowed his brow, as uncertainty seemed to strike him. “Is it?”
“No. You’re right. I wanted… I should go.” Alice, her gaze fixed on the carpet beneath her feet, hurried to his door, giving Henderson a wide berth as she walked by him. With her hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. “I’m so sorry, Henderson. I thought one more kiss. I didn’t think past that, truly.” She started to heave the door open, but a strong, tanned hand appeared by her face, preventing her from leaving.
She stood still, waiting, feeling the heat of him behind her even though he did not touch her. That hand, splayed wide, his forearm corded with muscle, was not in the least menacing. It was thrilling. For several long moments they stood there like that, silent, and Alice thought she might moan aloud if he did not touch her. She could hear his breaths, almost sense the internal fight within him. She heard him mutter something, deep and low.
With his left hand, he moved her hair, brushing his fingertips gently across her neck, so her blond locks hung down her left side, exposing her neck to the air, to his touch. She shivered and brought in a sharp breath, not daring to say a word lest he stop. Her entire body felt as if it were shimmering on the edge of something wonderful and unknown. When he placed his lips at the crease of her neck, she couldn’t help but let out a soft sound. Nothing had prepared her for what the simple touch of a man’s mouth on the sensitive skin of her neck could do to her entire body. She sang with it.
Hesitantly, Alice brought up the hand that still clutched the doorknob and wrapped it around his wrist, pulling his arm to her so she could press her cheek against his cool flesh. She wasn’t bold enough to turn to face him, so it was the only way she knew to silently tell him, yes. A shudder wracked his body, and he drew in a breath, his mouth so close to her ear, the sound seemed unnaturally loud. Every sense was magnified, every touch was new and beautiful and overwhelming.
Henderson move his left hand to her waist, a warm presence and somehow completely familiar. He had never touched her this way, with such deliberate intent. Dragging his hand down, he explored the shape of her derrière, slipped his hand briefly, enticingly, between her legs before bringing his hand back up to rest against her stomach, just below her breasts.
“Tell me to stop,” he said harshly in her ear.
She swallowed thickly. “I don’t want you to.” So soft was her whisper, she wondered at first if he had heard her. Then, he moved his hand up to cup one breast, to drag his thumb over her excruciatingly aching nipple, and she knew he had.
“Ah, Alice, this is so wrong.” She let out a small sound of protest. “You know it is. But I can’t seem to stop myself. Do you know how much I want you?” She shook her head, unable to speak. Her skin felt heated, strange, as if it craved Henderson’s touch the way a flower craves the sunlight. It was too much, somehow, and yet not enough. His hand on her breast; she could not have imagined what that would feel like, how that touch would send spikes of pleasure between her legs, making her move her hips restlessly. He pulled her flush against him, letting out a deep sound that sent a vibration through her body. Even with her limited experience, she knew that he wanted her.
Another ragged breath puffed against her cheek before he took her arms and slowly turned her around to face him. It was almost impossible to look up at him, and her cheeks were aflame.
“I’m not taking your virginity.”
She lifted her gaze and looked into those eyes, the color of sea holly, slightly stunned that he would say such a thing. Was that what he thought she wanted? And then another thought: is that why I truly came here? Suddenly, she felt completely out of her element, a little girl pretending to be a woman. Perhaps in the back of her mind that dangerous thought had skittered past her consciousness, that she would give herself to him. But what she truly had wanted was to kiss Henderson, to hold him, and, yes, for him to touch her and make her feel those drugged and thrilling sensations when they kissed.
“I hadn’t thought you would,” she said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Truly, Henderson, I didn’t think at all. You’re leaving in the morning and I might never again have a chance to…”
“A chance to what?” he prompted, impatience tinging his words when she remained silent.
“To feel what you make me feel.” It was nearly impossible to put into words what she wanted to say, for her experience, even with three fiancés, was limited to a few stolen kisses. No man had come close to making her feel the pleasure Henderson had, and she was fairly certain no one ever would.
He closed his eyes briefly and dropped his hands, stepping back. “I’m no more skilled than most men, Alice. Go to bed.”
“Hender—”
“Bloody hell, Alice, you’re to marry another man. I’m flattered that you want to experiment with me, the family’s charity case, but I would appreciate it if my last night in Tregrennar could be spent in peace.”
Tears instantly filled Alice’s eyes. “You know that’s not what you are, Henny,” she said fiercely.
“Do I? I’m not so sure. And here you are, with your fiancé not a few doors away, begging me to kiss you. I’ll be damned if I do, Alice.”
Alice blinked at his angry words. “That’s not how this is at all. It’s not. And Lord Northrup is not my fiancé.” Tears coursed down her face. “You know I would never…” Her words ended on a sob and she stood there helplessly, feeling cold now that Henderson was no longer touching her. Henderson shook his head, a helpless gesture, before drawing her into his arms where she promptly wet his robe with her tears.
“It’s all right, Alice. It’s been a trying d
ay for you.”
She nodded and hiccupped. “It has. Most brutally awful. And now you’re leaving and I shall never see you again. You’re going to In-India and I’ll be here…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she would not be in St. Ives. She would be in Manchester with Lord Northrup—if she decided to marry him. Henderson’s arms were warm and strong and comforting. There was nothing at all carnal in their embrace as he whispered soothing words and moved his hand up and down her back the way a man soothes a frightened horse. With her hands still clutching the lapel of his robe, Alice stood there and slowly gathered herself together, wishing this moment could last forever.
“Feeling better?” he asked after a time.
She nodded but didn’t move away, and he continued to stroke his hand up and down her back, dipping slightly lower each time. She became aware of his manhood growing hard as his hand stroked down to cup her derrière, and her breath quickened slightly. What had been an innocent caress turned slowly more erotic, and Alice closed her eyes to revel in the feelings he was evoking. She became dimly aware that Henderson was slowly lifting the back of her robe and gown, cool air on naked flesh, until her skirts were gathered around her waist. His bare hand, gentle and warm on her bum, was perhaps the most delicious sensation she had ever experienced.
Alice separated the material of Henderson’s robe, exposing his chest, and pressed her lips against him, smiling when she heard a harsh intake of breath. He pulled her against him and let out a groan before dipping his head so that he could kiss her. He was not gentle, but Alice didn’t care. This was what she’d wanted, this wonderful thrilling feeling. His tongue was hot and insistent, sweeping into her mouth, demanding that she kiss him with the same ardor. Alice was more than happy to comply. With a sound of relief and need, she threw herself into the kiss, reveling in the taste of him, the way his body seemed to enfold her in his embrace.
Between her legs, that aching place was wet with need, and she pressed against him, trying to lessen the feeling but only increasing it. Henderson trailed kisses from her mouth to her chin and neck, consuming her, as his hands drifted up her back, beneath her gown, skimming smoothly over her, until she was, except for the gown now gathered above her breasts, completely naked. Cupping one breast, he took her nipple into his mouth, suckling, licking, and Alice let out a sound she hadn’t realized she could make. “Oh, yes. Yes.”
He moved to the other nipple and did the same, while his other hand teased the abandoned breast.
“Henderson.”
He lifted his head, and she prayed she would never forget how he looked at her; it was as if something glowed from within. “Yes, love.” She shook her head. She didn’t know how to ask for what she needed, wanted. “You want me to stop.” It was not a question.
“No. I want…more.”
His features relaxed and he smiled. Without breaking eye contact, he moved one hand down her belly, nearer and nearer to where every delicious sensation was centered. Her eyes drifted closed when he reached the apex of her thighs. Suddenly, she was in his arms and in seconds deposited onto his bed with Henderson beside her, his robe fully open now, his manhood clearly visible. Alice dared to look, and was frankly shocked by how large and stiff it was. All the statues she’d ever seen hardly resembled that jutting appendage.
“I’m not taking your virginity, Alice. Though there is nothing more I would like than to be inside you, I cannot.”
“I know.”
“But I can give you pleasure.”
Alice smiled. “You already have.”
He shook his head mysteriously. “I have not. But I will.”
He lay down beside her and kissed her, deepening the kiss as his hand once again found the place between her legs. Alice had thought she understood what pleasure was until he began to stroke her. “Oh. Oh, goodness.” He dipped his head and took one nipple into his mouth, and Alice thought she might shatter. Nothing could have prepared her for the feelings his simple caresses were creating. All she knew was that she wanted more and more and for him to never, ever stop.
“Take me in your hand,” Henderson said, his voice low and grating, as if saying those words took the greatest effort. His large hand wrapped around her smaller one and he guided her to his manhood, showing her how to touch him. “Oh, God, Alice.” It was quite amazing, she thought, steel covered with a fine silk. When she shyly moved her hand, it seemed to grow harder, and Henderson moaned. “Yes, love.”
Again, his hand was between her legs, rubbing that nub she’d had no idea could create such glory. She matched his rhythm, moving her hand in time to his caresses, until she was mindless, until she worked on instinct, unaware of anything but the sensations flowing through her body. And then, the glory, the release, it came and she cried out, her body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pure bliss shot through her. As she slowly returned to normal, Henderson’s head nestled next to hers, and a terrible sadness enveloped her.
They would never share this again. This truly was good-bye.
Sadness mingled with shame and guilt. Shame, because she knew what they had done was wrong, perhaps even a sin, although she would be a virgin on her wedding night. Guilt, because her almost-fiancé lay abed in this same wing and here she was, naked, sated, lying next to a man who was not her husband and not her fiancé. And perhaps not even her friend anymore. Her lover? God, that word seemed so sordid.
“I should not have come tonight,” she said softly.
“No, you should not have.” Even as he said the words, his embrace tightened slightly, and she smiled.
“I should go.” She stirred and was slightly disappointed when he turned onto his back, releasing her. In the lamplight, his hair looked almost black, not the rich chocolate she knew it was. A curl fell over his forehead and she fought the urge to sweep it back. Feeling self-conscious, she crossed her arms and hurried to where her nightgown and robe lay on the floor, like discarded virtue. Stepping into a dark corner, and with her back to him, she donned her nightgown and then drew on her robe before turning, only to find Henderson staring at the ceiling, not her.
She stood uncertainly, not knowing what to say or do. If this were truly good-bye, it was a terrible one and not at all what she’d wanted. What had she wanted? Keeping her eyes on him, Alice walked to the edge of the bed furthest from where he lay.
“Good-bye, Henny. That was…was jolly good.” She wished the floor would swallow her whole.
“I’m glad I could be of service.” Alice’s entire body heated at his callous words, and she stepped back when he suddenly turned toward her. “I apologize. That was ill done of me. It has been a trying evening and this…unexpected visit was, well, unexpected.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you do, but I’ll let it go at that, shall I? Good-bye, little bug. It was jolly good.”
Alice could feel tears pricking at her eyes. When Henderson had first stayed with them that summer so long ago, she had trailed behind Joseph and him endlessly, until Henderson had turned to her brother and said, “There’s a little bug following us, you know.” He’d started affectionately calling her “little bug” whenever they were alone, but it was the first time since his return that he’d done so. She smiled, then spun around, fearing she would start crying again—and just look where that had brought her the last time.
* * *
Henderson watched her go, and as the door closed softly behind her, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heels of his hands over them. What the hell had he allowed? Being older, and supposedly a gentleman, Henderson had no business allowing Alice into his room. And yet, when he’d seen her standing there, looking so damned lovely, he let her in. He’d held her, knowing what could come of it. If there was one single thing he could give himself some credit for it was not taking her virginity, though God above knew he’d been tempted.
Alice had been so responsive, so lovely, so everything that he’d dreamt she would be.
Would he ever get the sound she made when she found her release out of his head? He thought not. He prayed not. In one quick motion, he sat up and left the bed, grimacing when he saw the proof of his own release on the bed covers. Let the maids think what they wanted; he was quite certain it would not be the first time they’d found such a present in the morning. What they would not find, no matter how early they came to his room, was him. He’d already finished packing the night before. Used to dressing without the help of a valet, though he had to admit it was rather nice when one was available, Henderson dressed quickly, gathered up his satchel, and headed out the door. The rest of his luggage would be sent to the inn later, he knew. The Hubbards’ staff was efficient and he had no doubt that by luncheon, he would have all his things delivered.
Henderson made his way down the wooden stairs, his footsteps quiet on the thick carpet runner that ran their length. Slipping out the door, he looked back once, knowing he would never set foot in this grand old house again. For the first time since he’d been brought home with Joseph, he felt unwanted.
* * *
The White Hart Inn was just down the street from a church, and not wanting to disturb the innkeepers at that late—or early—hour, Henderson decided to sit on a bench outside the large stone building. The wide street, divided by a small square, was completely deserted and the village was almost unearthly quiet. Not even the birds had begun their racket of welcoming the dawn. Henderson, his satchel clutched in his hands, leaned his head back against the hard surface of the bench and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the events of the night.
It was a futile exercise. If not for Lord Berkley and his promise to help in the famine efforts, Henderson would have gone directly to the new rail station and waited there for the next available train, and his luggage be damned.