Untouched

by Anna Campbell

  Yet again, the painful reality stabbed at her that a great lord and a destitute farmer’s wife had no future together. He must take possession of his power and prestige. She must settle to life as a poor relation with Cousin Vere and his noisy, ever-increasing family.

  What about love? her heart cried in anguish.

  Love. Yes, in this place, at this time, they loved each other. But while she’d love him until she died, his love was a hothouse plant that couldn’t thrive beyond his prison. How could it when he’d seen nothing of the world?

  She wished to heaven she could think of something to make him come with her. But her mind remained blank of everything but grief.

  One thing alone kept her from breaking down. One frail hope. She was Matthew’s only chance at freedom.

  If she managed to evade their jailers. If Lord John didn’t track her down. If she found someone to believe her bizarre story.

  If.

  If was all she had.

  If. And tonight.

  “Would you like more wine?” She reached for the decanter.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Her hand dropped to the table near her plate. Her crowded plate. Neither of them had done justice to Mrs. Filey’s excellent roast chicken.

  “I want you in my arms,” he said in a low, intense voice.

  He looked across the table at her, his eyes brimming with desire and understanding. He knew what it cost her to agree to go. Because he knew, she stifled her impulse to insist again that she stay. She didn’t care what danger she faced as long as she faced it at his side. In this strange place, she’d discovered both herself and a man worthy of her love. But he was hers for a heartbreakingly brief time.

  If only…

  No, such thoughts weakened her. He fought as hard as she to maintain courage. She couldn’t dishonor that struggle by playing the weak, hysterical woman. The memory of her tawdry behavior that morning made her cringe.

  “Come, my love.” He pushed his chair back and extended one hand in her direction.

  She took his hand and leaned over the table so she could whisper, “It’s so early. Do you think they’ll suspect?”

  Matthew smiled, but like all his smiles tonight, it was tinged with ineffable sadness. “They’ll suspect I have an insatiable appetite for you. They’d be right.”

  “Show me.” Could that husky purr possibly be hers?

  His eyes darkened to the color of old brandy and his fingers tightened on hers. “My pleasure.”

  She left the salon on his arm with a decorum that lasted until they reached the shadowy staircase. Shaking with need, Matthew backed her against the newel post and covered her mouth with his. She gasped with shock at the carnal hunger she tasted on his tongue. His erection nudged her belly, solid, thick, seeking.

  He needed her tonight more than he’d ever needed her before. The knowledge pierced her heart even as her body softened and turned liquid under his tempestuous kiss.

  He speared his fingers through her hair to hold her head for his kisses. Long, searching, wet kisses that beguiled her soul. She ran her hands up and down his back, cursing the barrier of clothing between her and his naked skin. He was always ready for her, but this desperation whipped her blood into a raging fever.

  “I want you,” he growled into her lips.

  He rubbed himself against her, leaving her in no doubt he was near the edge. The elaborate carving dug into her back but she didn’t care, as long as he kept touching her. What did minor discomforts matter? No pain could compare with the pain of the separation poised over their passion like a warrant of execution.

  “Mrs. Filey might see us,” she moaned, even while her hand slid around his flank to touch his sex. He was massively aroused. She nipped at his neck. He wasn’t wearing a cravat and the sight of his strong, bare throat had enticed her all through dinner.

  “Christ, Grace, you drive me mad,” he grated out, leaning his forehead against hers while he fought for breath. He tilted his hips so his hardness filled her hand. “Keep doing that and Mrs. Filey can go to the Devil.”

  “You’re my devil,” she whispered. All that male potency under her fingers would soon be hers. She needed him to make her his, to overwhelm her sorrow and fear with passion.

  “Always, my love. Always.”

  He swung her up into his arms and climbed the staircase. His heart thundered under her cheek. His arms were warm and secure. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing deeply. He smelled of lemon and musk and clean male. She took another lungful of Matthew-scented air. She wanted his essence to permeate so deeply, it lingered forever. Because soon memories would be all she had.

  Tears pricked at her eyes. Her hands tightened around his neck although she knew nothing would keep him with her.

  He shouldered the bedroom door shut behind him and placed her on her feet with her back to the oak. She flattened her palms on either side of her, wordlessly offering herself. She needed him to hammer at her like a molten ingot on a forge and mold her into something of his creation.

  He leaned forward and kissed her hard, using teeth and tongue, as he shoved her skirts up. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t want gentleness. There was a sharp ripping sound and her ruined drawers sagged to her feet.

  His passion surged with a dark tide she’d never felt before. It was unbearably exciting. Her womb clenched hard with arousal and hot moisture pooled between her quivering thighs.

  With careless elegance, he tossed his coat aside. He slid his hand down and released himself from his trousers. He sprang free, hot and ready. She shifted restlessly against the cool wood as another bolt of need sizzled through her.

  Then startled, she realized what he meant to do. “Here?”

  “Here,” he said with a ruthlessness that thrilled her. When he pushed her against the door, his touch held a savagery that made her tremble. He inclined his head toward the waiting bed. “And there. Later. Lift your leg and rest it on my hip.”

  She immediately obeyed, hooking her ankle behind his waist. She hopped to keep her balance. He was too tall for the position to be easy and her skirts bunched in a roll at her waist. “It’s not very comfortable.”

  “Trust me,” he said in a voice so deep it surged through her veins like a great wave.

  He’d said that so many times in their sexual games. She stretched up on her toes toward his hardness. Not close enough. She wanted him inside her. Now.

  “Lean back.” He slipped his hand under her bottom and lifted her. Immediately the strain on her thighs eased.

  He stroked the slickness between her legs. She shuddered and cried out as he pushed one finger inside her, then two. The pressure was glorious. Standing like this, she was open to him and he took full advantage. She quaked under his hand but didn’t tumble over into climax. Tonight of all nights, she wanted him with her when she reached her peak.

  He didn’t prolong the preliminaries. She was so starved for him, she didn’t mind. She couldn’t doubt how he wanted her. Desire invested his every sawing breath.

  He hoisted her higher.

  “Matthew!” She gave a startled cry when she left the ground. She twined both legs around him as his sex bobbed against her belly.

  “Hold on,” he breathed into her ear. He crowded her against the door and slid in with one massive thrust.

  She had no control over his penetration. As her weight came down on him and she took his full length, she gasped. She gasped again with pleasure when he rocked her up and down, using both hands under her. She snatched at his shoulders, testing the coiled tension in his muscles.

  He crushed her between his body and the smooth wood. Both were hard and unyielding. As he was hard and unyielding inside her.

  Groaning into her shoulder, he drove deeper. Her sorrow, her regret, her longing, her love coalesced into one shining whole. This desperate, rough loving branded her his. Forever.

  Passion rose fast. She cried out his name and clenched down hard. In a blinding cataclys
m, her world exploded into scintillating light.

  She clung to that ultimate height as long as she could. Even while rapture blasted her like wild summer lightning, helpless tears of loss and heartbreak poured down her cheeks. Vaguely, through shivering pleasure, she felt him pumping into her. Hot. Endless. Hers.

  Only until tomorrow.

  How could she leave him? Every time they made love, he became more a part of her. Abandoning him would be like having a leg amputated.

  Exhausted, they slid to their knees. Under her palms, Matthew’s shirt clung to his damp back. The sharp scent of their coupling surrounded her. With a weary gesture, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and sucked air into his lungs. She smoothed his tousled dark hair, a gesture of aching tenderness after their unfettered passion. As her heart slowed and strength filtered back into her limbs, she leaned into him in silence.

  The bleak fact of impending separation swam up through Grace’s dazed reaction.

  How could she live without this? There would never be anyone like Matthew. Her hands curled into claws on his shoulders as if she dared anyone to take him away. Then deliberately, she relaxed her frantic hold.

  What use defying a fate already ordained? They must part. That had been foretold from their first kiss.

  Her body ached from his ferocious possession. Her face was wet with tears. She shifted to ease the pressure on her knees and touched his cheek. He’d shaved before dinner, but bristles already prickled her palm. By dawn, his face would abrade her skin like sand. She didn’t mind. She wanted him to mark her. Tonight more than ever.

  “I love you, Grace.” He lifted his head and stared at her as though he etched each feature into his memory.

  “And I love you,” she returned, needing to join in the old dance of vows given and returned. She never should have told him she loved him. Now she had, she couldn’t stop saying the words. “You make me forget everything but you.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. She wanted to seduce him with the same ruthless single-mindedness he’d just demonstrated. But anguish and love surged up too strongly. Her lips softened and her kiss became an expression of endless longing instead of a brand of ownership. He sighed into her mouth and returned her kiss with a sad sweetness that sliced to her soul.

  Slowly, with a sense of wonder her time as his lover had never lessened, she rose on her knees. With trembling lips, she kissed his brow, his eyes, his cheeks, the hard angles of his jaw, the pounding pulse in his neck. She wanted to claim every inch as hers.

  Usually he led when they made love, but for now, he seemed content to allow her sway. He clasped her waist but made no other attempt to touch her.

  She took her time, inhaling his lemony scent, tasting his warmth, listening to the slight hitches in his breathing as she anointed his skin with her mouth. This was their last night together and strangely that drew her to linger. She wanted this memory honed sharp as a new blade so it stayed with her for the rest of her life.

  With each delicate touch, her heart whispered, “This I will remember. And this. And this.”

  She slid his shirt up and over his head and let it fall to the floor. Her eyes feasted on the lean strength of chest and shoulders. The pattern of fine black body hair. The long powerful arms. The gleaming, bare skin that stretched across his bones.

  Tonight, when she knew how little time remained, his masculine beauty hurt her like walking on broken glass. She drew in a shuddering breath and pressed her lips to the ridge of his collarbone then moved to kiss each hollow and curve of arms and torso.

  Slowly, Grace. Slowly. Polish every moment like a diamond.

  His breathing roughened with each brush of her mouth. The spicy scent of his arousal grew more piquant.

  Her gentle, inexorable exploration teased, made him burn. Still he knelt before her and let her continue. He cared enough to allow her this freedom. The thought only made her love him more. And lent her courage.

  She breathed in a lungful of air redolent of Matthew and slid behind him. His hands fell away from her as she shifted.

  The sight of his ruined back always made her stomach knot in sick denial. How had he borne this abuse yet emerged as the wonderful man she loved? It was a miracle.

  She paused, gathering her nerve, then very deliberately placed her mouth on the obscene scar that curled from his left shoulder blade to his right hip.

  He recoiled as if she hurt him, although the wound had long ago knitted. “Grace, don’t,” he hissed in warning.

  She leaned her cheek into his back. “I want to do this.”

  “My scars should disgust you,” he said hoarsely. His long muscles were hard as iron with tension and shame.

  “Never,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “These are marks of bravery, Matthew. Wear them with pride. They make you the man you are, the man I love with all my heart.”

  She trailed away into silence. Words were such frail vehicles to convey her love. She kissed the whiplash again, following its length until she reached the hard edge of his hip. Then carefully, methodically, tenderly, she moved around him and pressed her lips to every welt. Scars from the scourge. Scars whose cause she couldn’t identify. Scars that could only be burns. She dwelled over each patch of shiny white skin. It was as if by acknowledging his torture, she could leach away his pain, then and now.

  With every kiss, her determination to save him firmed. Whatever it cost, she would defeat the fiends who had perpetrated this evil.

  When she’d launched her act of homage, his body was stiff, resistant. But gradually, she felt him accept her touch, even move into it as though her love soothed his old agonies.

  His ragged breathing, his beckoning heat, the taste of his skin stirred excitement low in her belly. She nibbled and licked her way across one shoulder to his bare chest. Her hand slipped forward to brush his nipple and she heard him bite back a groan. Under her palm, his heart raced in a crazy gallop. The slow seduction worked simmering magic on him as well as her.

  With every kiss, forbidden curiosity tormented her. She’d kissed so much of him. Now she wanted to kiss all of him.

  No! The idea was unholy. She’d never heard of such a thing. She couldn’t do it.

  But as her lips dipped to explore the taut skin of his belly and his earthy scent flooded her senses, she couldn’t banish the outrageous images. Until she could no longer resist their urging.

  This was her last night with him. She meant to test the boundaries of sin. “Lean back,” she said in a throaty voice.

  To her surprise, he immediately complied, supporting himself on his elbows and straightening his legs so he was spread before her like a feast. A feast she intended to devour. She blushed at the thought.

  She crawled over him until she straddled his legs. He sprang impressively free of the opening in his breeches, vivid testimony to how he wanted her. His unwavering attention fixed on her and the ghost of a smile tilted his mouth. His eyes glinted deep gold through the lowered fringe of eyelashes.

  Her heart lurched with sorrow that she must leave him. The lacerating awareness that she’d never have this chance again gave her the nerve to bend her head and kiss the engorged tip of his sex.

  He jerked as the wet warmth of her mouth encircled him. Then he wrenched away. “Jesus!”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  The question he’d asked her repeatedly since they’d become lovers. She crouched over his lap and studied him. Strangely, she wasn’t nervous any more.

  “Grace, it’s…” He fought to put words together. His throat worked as he swallowed.

  She took shameless advantage of his bewilderment to lower her head again and lick his length. He tasted musky and damp. He tasted of sex. She shivered to realize he must taste of her. Piercing need tugged at her womb.

  She licked him again. He arched and groaned but didn’t move away. She obeyed the clamor of her instincts and took him fully into her mouth.

  He was large. And hot and
silky against her tongue.

  He’d often committed this intimacy on her willing body. It was his turn now. He trembled and cried out at the touch of her lips. A surge of feminine power rocketed through her. This strong, magnificent man was completely at her mercy.

  Experimentally, she sucked. He strangled a curse and buried his hands in her hair, urging her on. She increased the pressure and squeezed the base of his sex with a relentless rhythm. Then her seeking fingers cupped his testicles.

  “God, I love you,” he groaned. His hands fisted against her scalp. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  Tenderly, carefully, she ravished him with her mouth. Listened to each groan, each shattered inhalation of breath. Felt him quiver. Waited for his control to break.

  This was the most decadent act she’d ever committed. Yet she felt almost innocent. His love surrounded her, purified all sin, made the world glitter.

  She loved him. How she loved him.

  He reached down to drag her up by the arms. She knew from his throbbing tension that he was close, so close. She licked her lips. She’d never forget the taste of him.

  His hands shaking with urgency, he positioned her over him then sighed with pleasure as she sank down. She closed her eyes, luxuriating in how he filled her.

  Not just her body but her heart.

  With a sureness that was now second nature, she moved on him. She basked in the stunned pleasure that flooded his face every time she took him inside her.

  With one ruthless movement, he ripped aside the green silk of her bodice. She gasped when her breasts spilled free to the cool air. Her nipples pebbled, not just with cold but with excitement.

  “Beautiful,” he said with satisfaction.

  He caressed her, weighing her breasts in his hands, testing the sensitive areolas. He brushed the hard tips with his fingers. Then took her more firmly, tugging and rolling until she shivered with need. Each minuscule change in pressure shot searing heat to her loins, made her tighten around him. He curved up and placed his mouth on her breast while the other hand continued to torment.

  She loved the way he enjoyed her. Before Matthew, her body had just carried her through the day. Now every inch was imprinted with pleasure her lover gave her. Pleasure she gave him.