She slumped in his arms, no longer seeking his kisses. He had been used for a woman’s pleasure, and then discarded. A soft laugh eased from his chest while he waited for his heartbeat to calm. This woman in a million took her pleasure without consideration, without pretence, which bothered him not at all. Without a doubt, she would also give the same pleasure when called upon. That was the sort of woman she was: basically ignoble, adorably selfish, and for the moment, his. But only for the moment. He rested his head on the pillow beside hers, his eyes squeezed shut. For too long he had denied the truth to himself.
He still loved her, and he would always want her.
“I must leave soon,” he said, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. She stayed stuck to his skin, her face hot against his. His cock, swollen and aching, begged to be taken in hand. Covering the head with his palm, he doubted he could manage this discreetly.
“I suppose so.” Her soft eyelashes fluttered against his cheek.
Now a victim of his own un-sated desire, he would accept his just punishment. Hebe’s life hadn’t been all diamonds and sables. She’d been brought up with less than he had and she had married for money, not passion. If all he could offer was a little well-deserved tenderness he would. She clearly needed someone to care for her. If he could supply what she wanted, she would need no other than him, for the interim.
With her in his arms, he rolled onto his back. She had worked hard to find and keep her rich husband and he had never once heard a complaint about what she had to accomplish for her parents’ comfort and well-being. Even now, she only spoke well of Old Horace and her parents. He respected that. In private, as in public, Hebe remained honorable.
Rydale had no choice other than to match her. But, unless she loved him, too, he would neither impregnate nor marry her for her money.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hebe heard Alexander leave but she didn’t speak or open her eyes. She didn’t know what to say to a man who had given her the best experience of her life. If she thanked him, she would be letting him know she had never found pleasure with a man before. Her shocking reputation would be revealed to him as a myth.
Despite the fact that his equipment seemed to be in amazingly good working order, he hadn’t attempted to give her a baby. What he had done by not entering her was possibly the most selfless act of his whole hellish life.
He’d had lovers before, but he was an extremely large man, which had possibly been why he had hesitated. Not that caressing his appendage had been horrible. The thick hardness had been a wondrous thing to hold, so heavy, so ... appreciative.
Although she knew she had been duped, instead of being angry, she was intrigued. Perhaps if she slicked him up, somehow, he would be able to slide in. The thought pasted a horrified grin on her face. Then she remembered he had asked her to roll on her belly. Perhaps that was the only way he could do it. She didn’t really like that position. Not facing a man seemed so impartial, which of course Horace had preferred. She had never felt loved, which she knew she wasn’t.
Heaving a sigh, she slid out of bed before Flora arrived. Her maid would be shocked if she knew a man had shared Hebe’s bed last night, and her mistress needed to tidy herself a little. A mawkish smile formed on her lips while she planned her next encounter with Alexander. He’d tried to pretend he didn’t want her, but he clearly did.
She had almost decided not to go down to breakfast in case her face showed how she spent her night, and then she changed her mind. Alexander would have enough experience with country house parties to be able to smooth the way for her.
She dressed carefully, wearing the simplest gown she owned, a dark amber cotton with an elegantly stitched trim on the hem and the sleeves. Almost everyone had arrived before she did and the only space left at the table was opposite Alexander. Miss Smith sat beside him, her smile demure, her gown a white sprigged muslin.
“Good morning, all. I see I have slept a little longer than I should have. All that exercise ...”
Alexander raised his head and aimed a repressive frown at her. “Good morning, Lady Hebe. Let me pass you the toast.”
“How kind.” She reached out for a slice, while the footman stood beside her, presenting a dish of scrambled eggs. “Yes, thank you, I shall have a serve. I must keep up my energy.”
“Last night was delightful,” Miss Smith said, aiming her dimples at Alexander. “These smaller country parties are such fun. No one seems to worry about all the formalities. I do like not having to have dances booked, and not being able to speak to everyone at breakfast.”
“I’m shocked,” Hebe said, smiling at her. “Almost no one wants to speak to Lord Rydale at breakfast. He did caution us a few days ago, if you remember.”
Alexander sighed. “I hadn’t noticed you heeding my words.”
“Oh, but we’re old friends. And after last night...”
Again he aimed warning glance at her.
“...when you praised my fishing skills, I assumed we had cemented the friendship.”
Instead of appearing bored, his mouth relaxed, and he offered her a long slow smile. “You’ll have Miss Smith assuming I am not trustworthy.”
“Dear me, no, Lord Rydale. You are a gentleman, first and foremost. Why, you saved Lady Hebe’s life when her horse galloped off with her. I’m sure she is very grateful.”
“I’m tempted to offer him a reward, Miss Smith. But I can’t imagine what he might like.”
He heaved a sigh. “Enough, Lady Hebe. It’s too early for me to spar with you. Could we possibly have a cease fire for the duration of our stay here?”
“That would be delightful, Lord Rydale. We should be friends. We have so much in common.”
“Fishing. That would be the only thing.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Alex,” Winsome said as she walked into the room. “You have most of your friends in common, you both like lawn bowls, and I would adore to see you play billiards together because I’m sure you would be equal there.”
“Surely not.” Hebe laughed. “Is he that bad?”
“You don’t know the extent of my lack of expertise with a billiard stick.”
“Now I want to play with you. I could stand a chance for a change.”
He almost smiled. “Right. Some time this afternoon, perhaps? We could have a challenge match. Best of one game.”
“Best of three. I will need a coach. Who here is a skilled player?” Hebe glanced around the table.
Lord Hartley raised his hand. “Not exactly a champion but willing to give you a few pointers.”
She smiled at him, willing to have him by her side to keep Alexander competing not only in the game of billiards but also in the game she was playing for his heart.
Late in the afternoon the match began. For reasons Hebe didn’t fathom, almost the whole party came to watch. The betting was modest, most placing their money on Rydale, but of course loyal Winsome insisted on supporting Hebe, who started carefully, overshooting her first ball. Alexander also missed his. Hebe managed to fumble her next few into the pockets but Alexander inched ahead.
Not about to stand for that, Hebe caught him and found a few points of her own. Alexander improved. The males of the party began to grin and nudge each other. The females who had no idea of Hebe’s skill, looked sympathetic. Hebe decided to play a little better but she let Alexander win the first game. She won the second, noticing how his game had improved. Although she won the third, she actually had to try, and even then she wondered if he had held himself back. “You took me for a ride there, did you not, Rydale?” She stared at his rugged face, noting that his gaze had softened.
“I had no idea you were an expert Lady Hebe. I thought I might be bored, but I enjoyed pitting skills with you. One day we must have a rematch.” Alexander pulled down his cuffs, his tawny eyes glittering with amusement. “Duped. I can’t believe that I fell for the oldest trick in the world.” His relaxed gaze met and held hers in a silent message for some seconds.
S
he desperately wanted to believe him, that he had finally realized she shouldn’t be accepted at face value. Perhaps he had begun to understand she wasn’t the mistress of the obvious after all.
That night he came to her bedroom, formally dressed as before. She hadn’t arranged herself to appeal to him, for he hadn’t made an assignation. Surprised, she held out welcoming arms to him.
As he had done last night, he sated her without attending to his own needs. She could have suspected he didn’t want her, but his hardness said otherwise. However, her pride wouldn’t allow her to importune him, and she slept comfortably in his arms. When she awoke in the morning, he had gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Rydale accepted being ribbed by Hartley about losing a billiard match to a lady, but Hebe had won, fairly and squarely. And she had surprised him. Her bluff had been so good that he had been easy on her at first, but as her game stepped up, he’d had to step up his. In every way, not only in billiards.
He had been described as a curmudgeon a few times in his life, or a stick-in-the-mud, and he wore these epithets as a badge of honor, except where Hebe was concerned. She wanted marriage and a child. He also wanted marriage and a child. However, his pockets were to let and his lands not sewn for years because he hadn’t been able to afford to employ the labor he needed. She could afford to enrich his pockets and his life, but he could not marry the woman he loved for her money. A gentleman would have kept away, but the depth of the love he realized he felt for her dropped his standards, somewhat.
Although he desperately wanted her, he wouldn’t consider getting her with child outside marriage. The thought of another man bringing up his son or daughter appalled him. However, he did not have the will to stay away from her. His innermost being said she experienced feelings for him too, but unless she indicated she wanted more than the pleasures of the flesh, he would continue his nightly visits without either telling her or trying to take advantage of her.
That night he went to her again. He removed his shoes and jacket and lay beside her in the bed. “That puppy Hartley seems to be throwing his cap into the ring,” he said, idly twisting a silky lock of her hair around his finger.
She snuggled into him. “What ring? I haven’t put my proposition to him.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but I doubt he needs a proposition. He is young and healthy and you are a temptation.”
“I don’t appear to be tempting you.”
“You don’t know how wrong you are,” he said in a whisper on her neck.
She put her arms around his shoulders, landing her upper half onto his chest. Her thumb stroked the lobe of his ear. “If you want me, you must offer inducement,” she said, her words muffled against his cheek.
He slid his fingers into her hair and brought her mouth down to his. Kissing her was as impossible to resist as taking his next breath. His lips touched hers, lightly at first, the taste of her being absorbed as an essential part of him. He could toy with her mouth forever, except for the fact that his desire for her expanded by the second.
He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her chin, her neck, and then went back to her luscious lips. His hands smoothed up and down her spine. Finally, his craving became too much for him and he edged away from her, rolling onto his back. Breathing like man who has spent an hour in the boxing ring, he said, “I think I should leave. Have you heard the saying ‘fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, fool me three times and shame on both of us?”
“Yes, but what has that to do with you leaving.”
“Change that to ‘fool you once, shame on me’ ... I don’t intend to give you a baby.”
“Why should I be shamed?” She lifted her hair off her neck, languidly combing her fingers through the silky strands.
“Because we don’t intend to marry.” He drew in a lungful of air.
“My proposal only stipulated that you try to give me a baby.”
He shook his head. “As a gentleman, I can’t allow that to happen outside of marriage.”
“You said you didn’t mind before.”
“I mind now.” He expected her to push him away, but instead her fingers began to roam. She took him gently into her palm, causing him to right turn into her. Scooping her up again, he lifted her leg over his hip, pushing away her nightgown, and pleasured her with his hand until she began to keen. He couldn’t have loved her more at the moment, while she was begging him not to stop, when she finally bucked and spread her womanly juices on his fingers. Nothing could have pleased him more than the knowledge that he had satisfied her.
He hoped that damned husband of hers hadn’t measured up, but even if he had, Rydale could not compete with a dead man. Although he longed to ask, he knew asking about the performance of another man was unworthy of a gentleman. No matter what she said, he would assume she had offered a sop to his ego. No doubt about it, a man had to compete with himself or no one – do the best he could under any circumstance.
As he lay with her in the darkness, his cock hot and aching, he wrapped his palm around the head. This prevented him from releasing. While he breathed through his agony, he stared at the ceiling. When he had managed a slight flaccidity, he turned to Hebe, who appeared to be watching with interest.
“An old family remedy,” he offered in apology.
“Your father taught you to do that?”
“Not exactly. My cousin gave me the hint when I was fourteen.” He smiled in the darkness. Another of her loveable characteristics was her lack of prudishness.
Finally, her face found the spot between his chin and his neck, and he snuggled her into him, murmuring words like ‘hush,’ ‘sleep,’ ‘precious,’ and he didn’t know what, until her breathing became regular and she fell asleep.
While she slept, he left her room, knowing that regardless of his scruples, he would propose and be damned to her wealth. She could invest in his estate and the rest she could damn well keep, for he knew without a doubt that he couldn’t lose his second chance with her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hebe awoke in the morning, not surprised that Alex had reneged on their bargain. As soon as he mentioned his code of honor, she knew he would no longer visit her at night. Over the years, he had met many heiresses who would want his title if not him, but he’d remained single. Clearly, despite his words, he was not determined to marry for money after all. In fact, he still appeared to despise the fact that she had.
She scanned the bedroom, making sure he had left no trace. If anyone guessed he had spent the night in her bed, the gossip would continue about her, but nothing would be said regarding him, except he was jolly good fellow. Slowly sitting up, she placed her hands around her ankles, and rested her cheek on her knees. She tried to concentrate on her plans for the day, but her head had begun to ache.
After pulling the bell rope for Flora, she sat herself down in front of her mirror, her face pale in the gray light. Perhaps the cherry red morning gown with the military braid crossing the sleeves would put her in the mood to act like a young subaltern and keep her shoulders square. She had mourned the loss of Alex for far too long and didn’t plan to be a tragedy queen now.
Flora entered the room with a jug of hot water. “Good morning, ma’am. Will you be wearing your yellow gown this morning?”
“No, the red. Thank you, Flora.”
Alex had initially been interested in her money but apparently now her body had palled on him. He had taken her mouth and had caressed her skin, but his words of love came only with past recollections. Before him, she hadn’t known that women had an ability to explode with passion. None of her little gossip sessions with her friends had led her to believe that women had the same needs as men. Of course, the last time she’d had gossipy days with her friends, all had been unmarried. No wonder each of them nowadays had a look of contentment. Winsome, Della, and Rose, had all married for love. She was the only one who had married for money.
Before and during marriage, she had always thought that he
r duty as a woman included submitting to a man. Her experience didn’t include considering any sort of eroticism, though she had to admit to sneaky little forays into some of Horace’s picture books. Few contained drawings of women, other than fat old harlots handling men while other men salivated. She doubted that would be Alex’s style. But she didn’t know what his style was other than being kind to her.
She washed while Flora began to fuss with the sheets that Alex had left only a few hours ago. Although Hebe ached with his rejection, she could cope. Of course she could. After all, she’d had a life of constant rejections. Having been told she was pretty enough to attract a fortune, she had entered society in her first season as a hopeful debutante. By her second season, she had been rejected by any noble with the sort of money her parents expected for her. Before her third, her parents had scooped up Horace, who was the wealthiest of the lot.
Initially, she didn’t understand why he was so politely distant toward her, and her few nights sharing his bed had been as embarrassing as they were physically painful. Until he confessed his love for Mark, her feeling of inadequacy lowered her spirits considerably. She became accustomed to loneliness, for society certainly didn’t need a rich industrialist’s rejected wife as an adornment. Knowing she wasn’t attractive to her husband, other than as a decoration, she had experienced a great amount of loneliness. Happiness hadn’t come into the picture.
But now her life had changed. She had no cause to be lonely and certainly no need feel inadequate, being older, wiser, and certainly richer. Determined not to give up easily, she went down to breakfast, hoping she could smile charmingly at Alex. She was spared the pleasure, since he didn’t arrive. After a small discussion about picking strawberries, which moved to a discussion about the races at Epson when the gentlemen arrived, she glanced around and said, “Alex appears to be sleeping late.”
Deliciously Hazardous (Regency Four Book 4) Page 7