Tangled in Sin

by Lavinia Kent

  “I thought that is what we were doing.”

  She simply stared at him.

  “Then tell me what you want,” he said. “You certainly seemed to want what I was doing. I think I will have finger shaped bruises on my ass for a week.”

  She shook herself, slightly, and turned away. “We will not talk about ass bruises, as I am sure that I will not be unmarked. I do not deny that I was enjoying that, but I want more. I feel like it is always about doing things your way. I never feel you value what I want.”

  “I certainly was very concerned about what you wanted when I washed you after the mud bath and also in the long gallery. I don’t see how you can think I was not thinking about you.”

  “But where was my choice, my control? In both instances you said what you wanted and simply expected me to comply.”

  “It was all about you.”

  She stamped her foot, clearly slipping beyond reason. “You are missing the point entirely and this is why I would not marry you if I felt I had any choice. You decide what I want or what I should want and then I am expected to agree with you. How would you feel if I did that? If I made the decisions about what you should want? If I took control?”

  —

  Had she truly just asked that? Cynthia curled her hands tight as she waited for James’s answer.

  “I don’t believe I would have a problem with that,” he answered her. “I am a reasonable man. Don’t scoff like that. I am very capable of letting you make decisions. I imagine that once we are married there will be plenty of decisions for you to make.”

  She turned to face him, narrowing her eyes in challenge. “Why do I feel you are talking about menus, and hiring house staff, and perhaps even decorating—although I am sure you would expect to be consulted on any items of value?”

  “That does not seem unreasonable.”

  “And what if I want to invest in a canal or buy a racehorse or…or…to plant flax instead of corn or…” Words escaped her. She knew there were many more examples but could not think of a single one.

  “Then I would expect you to discuss it with me. Again, that does not seem unreasonable.”

  “And if you want to do any of those things, you will consult with me?” She smiled sweetly, wondering if he could feel the fury that still burned in her belly.

  “I am used to making those decisions. You are not.”

  Men! “How do you know that?”

  “What?”

  “How do you know what decisions I am used to making? And when did you last think about investing in a canal?”

  “Well, I haven’t, but—”

  “Exactly, but you assume you know how to make decisions and that I don’t.”

  “All I am saying is that I am more experienced.”

  Would he ever understand her point? “You’ve just admitted that you know nothing about canals and it happens I did much to manage the estate while my mother was ill. My father wished to spend all the time he could with her and I helped him with his daily duties. I know as much about fields as I do about how to manage a staff. I admit I know little about racehorses, but I am certainly capable of buying a mount for myself whether a more placid animal for in the city or a vigorous hunter.”

  He opened his mouth and then shut it.

  She waited.

  “I am certain you could choose a sweet mare for yourself. I have always known you were a more than competent horsewoman.”

  “And the hunter?” She tapped her foot.

  “I admit I am less sure there as they can be dangerous if not carefully selected. I would hate for you to choose the wrong horse and take a fall, but”—he held up a hand when it was clear that she wanted to interrupt—“I am willing to listen and let you choose, unless the beast is truly unsuitable.”

  It was hard to resist rolling her eyes. Although she knew her father felt exactly the same way. She was free to make most decisions but there were some that required a male touch. She might not have been so sensitive to it if she had not had relatively free rein while her mother was sick. “I will give you some credit for what I can see is a great compromise on your part. I just wish you could understand mine. You think you have the right to decide what choices I can make by myself and which I need help with. You cannot trust that I can decide when I need help?”

  “When I am your husband it will be my right and indeed my responsibility to help make those decisions.”

  “Do you hear yourself? And you wonder that I am not sure if I wish to wed you. Hell, I am not sure I wish to wed at all.”

  His brow furrowed, the lines between his eyes growing deep. “I truly don’t wish to argue with you, Sin.”

  “But you refuse to see my point.”

  “I am trying. I don’t understand what has you so upset. Men make certain decisions. It has always been this way.”

  “That doesn’t mean it always should be. I truly am rethinking my yes.”

  He took a step toward her. “I can promise to try. What more do you ask of me?”

  She closed her eyes, trying to find an answer. She did care for him, might even still love him. She just wasn’t sure she could live with him, live with worrying about what he would think was in her best interest. “Show me that you are willing to try? Show me that you can let me decide what I like—maybe even give me the chance to decide what you like.”

  “How?” His question echoed through the room.

  She hadn’t actually thought of a way. There must be something, something he could do here and now to prove that he was willing to give her a chance—even something small, something symbolic.

  And then it hit her. It would be hard for him, very hard. He’d made it very clear that he liked to be in control in all aspects of his life—particularly when it came to sexual relations. Would he really be willing to let her be completely in charge, willing to let her tell him what to do? He’d indicated he was willing, but was he really? And did she want to be in charge, to take control?

  She had to admit she wasn’t quite sure about that last, but then how was she supposed to know if she never tried? She’d certainly found she liked some things that she would have thought distasteful.

  Opening her eyes, she turned about the room. This might just be perfect. She’d imagined herself tied between the columns, but what about James? What would it be like to have him tied while she did whatever she wanted with his body?

  Turning back to him, she smiled. “Take off your clothing. All of it.”

  Chapter 23

  What did she want? He was afraid he gaped at her, although he did manage to keep his mouth from hanging open. “What?”

  Sin sighed. “You truly are not good with following directions. However did the duke put up with you?”

  “I can assure you that he never asked me to strip.”

  She smiled slightly. “But I imagine you would have jumped to obey him if he did.”

  That was probably true. He’d learned early to obey his father in all things or the switch came out. “He was not prone to nonsensical orders.”

  This time she laughed. She actually laughed. “I would never say that Scarlett was nonsensical, but sometimes I do believe that he gives orders just to prove that all will obey. I am not quite sure it was necessary that all the footmen be exactly the same height or that you and Langdon always stand while learning your lessons or that lemons never be allowed in the house or that—”

  “I will concede the point. My father can be a man of singular opinions.”

  “It is the advantage of being a duke.”

  “One that I will never have.”

  She looked at him strangely and he waited for the “you never know.” Why did people always think that he would wish for anything that would require his father and brother’s deaths?

  Instead she crinkled her nose. “Would you want to? I’ve never thought that being a duke—or truly, holding any title—seemed like much fun. It always seemed far better to be a wealthy second son, so much more freedom a
nd choice.”

  It was his turn to smile. She was a constant surprise. “Yes, you do like your freedom and choice. I cannot, however, say that you are wrong—although it does leave one wishing for something of one’s own.” He was joking, but his mind wandered to their discussion back in the cabin. Since he’d become reacquainted with Sin, his longings had faded. He felt more like his own man. “And you are right, being wealthy is key. I’ve had friends who did not have such a benefit and it does leave them rather desperate for wealthy wives and large dowries.”

  “Perhaps I should wish that you were one of them. If you were after my dowry I might believe that you would at some point do what I say and take off your clothes.”

  She was serious.

  “Is this a test?”

  Was Sin actually rolling her eyes at him? She was. With a lift of one brow, she said, “Of course it’s a test. I thought that was quite obvious. Prove to me that you will let me make even small decisions and decide what you want.”

  He could do that. It would not be difficult. He might have a strong preference for being in control in the bedroom, but he could let Sin have a little fun and then show her just how he…

  “You’re planning a coup,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

  “I would never—”

  “You certainly would. You always have a secret plan. Now take off your clothing or I am leaving.”

  Was that her best threat? He was tempted to call her on it, but it occurred to him that she really might leave. He yanked at his cravat and then tossed it onto the pillows. His jacket followed. His fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt.

  “I do wish there was a proper chair,” Sin said. “I would rather like to relax as I watch you, but once I sink into those pillows I may never arise.”

  He didn’t think that would be a problem. He’d be quite happy with her spread across the pile of pillows. Her white dress would make quite the picture against the brightly colored silks, the ripped bodice giving him the perfect hint of what was to come. Yes, it would be quite the image.

  “You’re thinking about what you want again. You must remember that I will determine what you want.” She turned and gazed about the room. “I almost wish we were in the room with all the whips. I’d quite like a crop to tap against my thigh as I talk.” She looked down at herself. “It is quite difficult to keep the proper air of authority when one’s bosom is falling out. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you stare at it as often as you look at my face.”

  “I admit I am weak.”

  “Now hurry with those buttons. I’ve been missing your chest. If you get to stare at mine, it’s only fair that I get to stare at yours.”

  “Your wish is my command, my lady.” The shirt joined his jacket on the pile of pillows.

  For a moment she kept her word and simply stared. Her eyes moving over his shoulders and the flat muscled planes of his chest. Her breasts began to rise and fall more rapidly. It was powerful to see the effect he had on her.

  Her eyes dropped lower. She gave a jerking nod.

  His hands moved to the flap of his breeches. It would be good to be free. But…“I should remove my boots first.”

  For a moment he thought she would say no. She wanted this all her way. But then, with a smile, she nodded again.

  Glancing about, he sat on the edge of the low table. “I may need help. I don’t have a bootjack and normally my valet pulls this pair off. They are quite tight on the shins.”

  “Tell me what to do,” she said. “No, don’t. You’re not to tell me what to do until I release you. I will figure it out all on my own.”

  “Fine.” He stayed seated, not moving.

  —

  Perhaps she had spoken too quickly. James sat still, feet flat on the floor. How did you take off a man’s boots? She’d seen him remove them at the cabin. He’d simply yanked them off, one at a time, when seated. But those had been rougher, larger boots. These did not seem so simple.

  She was not, however, about to be defeated by the task.

  It was amazing the things she was not truly familiar with. Were men and women really kept that separate? How could she not know how to remove a simple pair of boots?

  Well, in truth she did know if she thought about it. It could not be that different than her own shoes.

  She walked over and stood in front of him. “Give me your foot.”

  He raised a brow—but also his leg, holding the boot out to her. She grabbed hold. His leg was much heavier than she would have expected. Placing a hand under the heel, she yanked. And yanked. And yanked. It shifted some, but not much.

  There must be a better way, better leverage.

  Ah.

  Slinging one leg over his, she turned, angling her behind in his direction. Let him look. He’d already indicated that he found it attractive. She wiggled her hips a little as she began to pull. Some movement, but not enough.

  She needed more strength or…“Place your other foot on my behind, give me a little help.”

  “You want me to plant my boot on your ass.”

  He would say it that way. “Yes.”

  “Happy to oblige.” He gave her a good shove, almost causing her to lose her footing—but the boot came free from his heel and then pulled off easily. She resisted the urge to smile. Quickly, she removed his stocking.

  Then it was time for the second boot. Only, now it was his bare foot that landed on her behind. His toes began to wiggle against her in a most distracting fashion before he added a push.

  She yanked hard, more than ready to pull off a bit of skin along with the boot. He grunted, and then gave her the awaited push; the boot came free.

  “I think I’d enjoy that more if you were naked, in case you were wondering.”

  She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “I wasn’t and it is you who should be naked.”

  “Never let it be said I did not indulge a lady.” He stood and his hands again dropped to his flap.

  It was impossible not to focus as he unfastened one button and then another. He let the top of the waist drop, revealing the slender trail of dark hair that led down from his navel, trailing across the ridged muscles of his abdomen. Then the indents that marked each hip appeared. “What do you call those?” she asked.

  “Call what?”

  “Those muscles.”

  “I think you’ll need to show me which ones.” His voice cracked slightly as he spoke.

  Now, that was a task she could definitely manage. Walking closer, she placed a finger on his waist then slowly ran it down, watching his skin shiver at her touch. She reached the indent and let her finger follow it down until she reached the fabric of his breeches where he held them up. Keeping her eyes focused on her hand, on the tantalizing sprinkling of dark hair, she said, “This muscle.”

  His abdomen expanded as he spoke. “I think I’ve heard it called Apollo’s Girdle. I have to admit I’ve never really thought about it. It is simply a part of me.”

  “Do all men have them?” She ran her finger up and then down again, this time letting her finger slip a little lower. His cock jerked beneath his breeches. She swallowed, hard.

  “I don’t know. Well, I am sure some don’t. But I can’t say I’ve ever looked.”

  “Why have you stopped?” she asked, her eyes still focused downward.

  Without comment, he let the breeches fall to the floor.

  Had it always been that big? It must have, but still it was hard to imagine…“Stand,” she said.

  “As you wish.”

  James stood, towering over her. She should have backed away first. Often she liked the feeling of vulnerability that she developed near him, but right now she wanted to be strong. Starting to force her eyes upward, she paused at his tight brown nipples and the tanned skin of his chest. “How do you stay so brown? I can’t imagine you are out much this time of year.”

  He raised a hand and touched his chest. “Not usually, certainly. I think the color just stays at
this point in my life. It used to fade quickly, but now it lingers for a month. Perhaps I can blame that Italian princess in the long gallery. I think I did take a late swim in October when it was so warm. The water was frigid, but it was good to lie out in the sun. Too good. I was actually quite red when I got home, but the color has stayed ever since.”

  “Interesting.” She ran a finger across one nipple. He shuddered.

  She continued, “I noticed at the cottage that even your feet were brown. I suppose you swim in only your skin?”

  “Who would swim any other way?”

  She thought about swimming in her chemise and stockings. It would be much better to be free. “Perhaps when we are wed, you will take me for a paddle.”

  He hesitated, clearly not quite comfortable with the idea. “I suppose if I say no, you will lecture me again, so I will skip ahead and say perhaps. We would have to find someplace private.”

  “And it is not private when you swim?” She flicked a nail across his hard nipple.

  His breath caught—and then released. “I am not always alone when I swim.”

  That made her stare up at him. “Truly?”

  He chuckled. “Now you are making me think that perhaps I do need to bring you along—although not with my friends, my male friends. There’s a spot at the end of Lord Colton’s estate with a cool, deep pond shaded by trees. We sometimes would race there as fast as we could and then cool off in the water.”

  “Race? Running or horses?”

  “Or hopping or crawling or in carts or on donkeys. We’ve been known to race just about any way you can imagine.”

  She flicked her nail again. “With a suitable wager, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  She ran her nail lower, halfway to his navel, and began to trace little patterns. “Would you let me gamble?”

  “I don’t see why not, unless you’re planning to wager the estate.”

  “No, I’ve never had any like for large bets. It is winning that matters, not what I win.”

  “A woman after my own heart, but I’ve already admitted to that.”

  Truly? She drew a circle and then another, wet her finger with her tongue and drew a little heart. She could see his slight quiver at the cool dampness. She leaned slightly and blew. “Should we make our own wager, then?”