He ran his hand up her leg, along her inner thigh to the juncture of her legs and beyond. She felt his fingers against her, felt her own slick moisture and a pleasure unlike anything she’d known before coursed through her. He caressed her slowly, easily, all the while his lips were on her shoulders, her throat, her breasts. His body moved against hers and her own body arched to meet him. She lost herself in the delicious sensations washing through her body, sweeping through her soul. And wanted more.
His fingers moved in an increasing rhythm until her mind, her life narrowed to include nothing beyond the extraordinary pleasure of his touch. Tension coiled inside her until she thought she would shatter into a thousand pieces. And wanted the shattering. Ached for it. Reached for it.
Abruptly he stopped and she clutched at him and groaned in a desperate manner that sounded completely foreign to her ear. As if it had come from someone else or somewhere else.
He shifted to kneel between her legs and she held her breath. He eased himself into her slowly. It was not quite as delightful as his caress, but still not unpleasant. A rather nice feeling of fullness, really. He paused, then thrust hard. She felt the tiniest stab of pain and gasped.
“Fiona?” he murmured against her neck. “Are you—”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she said brightly, although in truth it stung a bit. “Do go on.”
“Do go on.” He chuckled, and it reverberated through her.
She smiled. It did sound absurd, as if she were en couraging him to take a stroll in the park. Even so, she shifted a bit, and he settled deeper within her. Her body throbbed around his. He stayed still for a long moment, then slowly withdrew, and slid forward. It was intriguing and rather nice. He continued to thrust and pull back in an easy manner and the feeling became much more than nice. She wrapped her legs around his. The tempo of his movements grew faster, harder. She arched to meet him. Sensation, delicious and exquisite and unlike anything she’d ever imagined, flowed through her. Conquered her. Claimed her. Blood pounded in her veins in time with the beat of his thrusts.
The tension she’d felt earlier returned. The spring within her tightened.
Dimly she heard him groan. He shuddered against her and thrust again and again. Without warning her body exploded against his. She arched upward and waves of pleasure, basic and primordial and like nothing she’d ever imagined, surged through her and shook her body. And touched her soul.
He shifted and pulled her with him to lay side by side, still wrapped in each other’s arms, their bodies still joined. She could feel the thud of his heart against hers, somehow more intimate, more personal even than their coupling, his heart beating as one with hers.
Her gaze met his and he kissed her. “Would you care to know what I am thinking, Miss Fairchild?”
“I believe I can feel what you’re thinking, Lord Helmsley.”
He grinned wickedly “Yes, well, there is that.” He kissed her again slowly and she wondered if he realized she shared his thoughts.
He raised his head and gazed into her eyes. His voice was light, but his eyes were dark with passion and desire. “I shall have to marry you now, you know. Now that you have ruined me.”
“I thought as a man you were subject to different standards and could not be ruined.” She could still feel him inside her and she adjusted her position slightly to keep him precisely where he was.
“I was wrong,” he said in a lofty manner. “I am definitely ruined.”
She moved to lie on top of him and ground her hips against his, delighting at the look of pained pleasure that crossed his face. “Odd, you don’t feel the least bit ruined.”
“I’m confident I can still function.” Without warning, he rolled her over and settled deeper within her. “Apparently I was wrong.” He grinned. “I am not ruined after all.”
“No,” she sighed, and moved her hips to encourage him. “You do not appear to be ruined, but we should make certain.”
“Indeed we should.” He chuckled, then raised his head to stare down at her. “I was wrong, you know.”
“About being ruined?” She ran her fingers up and down his back. “Or about Orsetti? Or about—”
“Never mind.” He fairly growled the words. “Suffice it to say, I have been wrong about any number of things.”
She laughed and reveled in the way the sound echoed through her and him.
“And furthermore, I intend to let you remind me of how very wrong I have been every day for the rest of my life.”
“Do you?” She smiled. “Then I gather you still intend to formally call on me?”
“I do indeed.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “Now, if there are no further questions…”
“Just one.” She shivered, the way he did that was most delightful. “How did you know the name of the orchids in the conservatory?”
She felt him smile against her neck. “I know a little about a great number of things but not a great deal about any one thing.”
“I see,” she murmured, and surrendered herself to the pleasure of his touch.
A moment later Fiona realized he was wrong about that too.
There was at least one thing about which he knew a great deal.
Chapter Fourteen
Later that day, at a much more respectable hour for paying calls, if paying calls was what one had in mind and not something of a more scandalous nature…
“Oh, it was definitely the hand of fate.” Judith accepted a cup of tea from Fiona. “What else could explain it?”
“Amiracle, I should think.” Fiona grinned. “Or simple luck.”
“Nonsense. While I do subscribe to the notion that luck is always more important than skill in any endeavor, in this instance I believe there are greater powers at play. The very fact that you were able to pay a call on Jonathon and return home without anyone in your family having so much as an inkling of your absence definitely speaks of destiny.”
“Still, it was very early,” Fiona murmured. “Scarcely past dawn.”
“And yet there were those who did not leave my ball until very early.” Judith took a sip of her tea. “Scarcely past dawn. Given your activities and those of others I could name, the streets of London were a crush of comings and goings in the early morning hours. You are exceedingly fortunate you were not seen. Although,” she said thoughtfully, “since the comings and goings were mainly of a clandestine nature, it’s entirely possible anyone whose path you might have crossed was too busy concealing their own purposes to give yours a moment’s notice.” Judith smiled in a wicked manner. “It was a most successful ball.”
Fiona laughed. Whether you wished to call it a miracle or luck or fate, it was indeed fortunate that Fiona’s early morning assignation with Jonathon had gone undetected by anyone save his butler, who was hopefully as discreet as he was efficient. In spite of the hour, the man had actually found her a hired carriage to take her home.
“Of course, if Jonathon had escorted you home…” Judith said idly, “and you had been discovered…”
“There would be the devil to pay, and I should much prefer to avoid that particular price, if you please.”
If Fiona had been caught returning home alone, she could probably have thought of some rational-sounding explanation about why she’d been out at that hour of the morning. But to be caught accompanied by Jonathon…She shuddered at the thought. “I have no desire for a husband who has been forced into marriage. Even if said husband is the only one I want.”
“And the one who wants you,” Judith said firmly.
“We shall see,” Fiona said in an offhand manner as if she, and Judith as well, were not completely confident that Jonathon would declare both his affection and his intention to marry when he called on Fiona later today. Hadn’t he said as much a mere few hours ago?
“I knew it would all work out, you know,” Judith said in a smug manner. “I knew from the moment Jonathon first asked me for advice. And after last night, I had no doubts whatsoever.”
> “Really?” Fiona raised a brow. “Then your call today was simply to confirm your—”
“I am confident, my dear, not infallible.” Judith smiled and sipped her tea. “Admittedly, I was dying to know what else might have transpired between you and he after that oh, so interesting encounter in the conservatory.”
“I wouldn’t call it the least bit interesting.” Fiona grimaced. “I’d call it awkward and most annoying.”
“I do wish I could have seen Jonathon’s expression when he realized where he had seen the count’s face before.”
“It was…” Fiona laughed. “Memorable.”
“I can well imagine.” Judith shook her head. “Jonathon has never had to compete for anything, particularly women, I think because he’s never met one before that he’s truly wanted. And I have never known him to be jealous. Furthermore, he is not used to being wrong, nor is he the type of man to leap to unwarranted conclusions. All of which is no doubt extremely confusing for him. If he wasn’t such a dear friend, I would find it most amusing.”
Fiona sipped her tea. “But you do find it amusing.”
“Apparently I am not as good a friend as I thought.” Judith shrugged and set her cup down. “Nonetheless, you will soon be the Marchioness of Helmsley and the future Duchess of Roxborough, and I have had a hand in it, however slight.”
“More importantly, my sisters will have the means needed to find a good match,” Fiona said quickly.
“Yes, yes.” Judith waved away the comment. “That is more important than marrying the wealthy, titled man that you love and living happily for the rest of your days.”
“Perhaps not more important.” Fiona laughed and Judith joined her.
“Well, as Shakespeare is continually saying in the guise of one actor or another, all’s well that ends well, and I suspect this particular comedy will end in a most satisfying manner the moment his lordship calls on you. As much as I do hate to miss that”—Judith rose to her feet—“I still have a few other calls to make. Yours was not the only interesting thread left dangling at the end of the ball. Twelfth Night is obviously more fraught with possibilities than I had imagined.” A satisfied twinkle lurked in Judith’s eye. “It may well have to become an annual event.”
“Judith.” Fiona stood and took the other woman’s hands. “I do thank you for coming here today. I had no one I could truly talk to about…everything. I couldn’t take my sisters into my confidence. I certainly don’t wish to set an”—she cringed at the word—“immoral example for them, and as for Aunt Edwina, well, in truth, Aunt Edwina is a continual surprise. I have no idea what she would say and I prefer not to find out. But I knew you would understand.”
“An understanding nature is the curse of an interesting reputation.” Judith heaved a dramatic sigh, then cast her a genuine smile. “I did mean it, Fiona, when I told you I wished to be friends. And as your friend I am curious.” She studied the younger woman thoughtfully. “I know you’re sublimely happy at the moment and certain you and Jonathon will spend the rest of your days together. Indeed I share that certainty, but what if, oh, I do hate to bring it up, but…” Judith’s gaze met Fiona’s. “What if we’re wrong? About his feelings and fate and all of it? Men are odd creatures, by and large, and it’s best not to count on any sort of rational behavior from them. It’s been my experience they scarcely ever know their own minds when it comes to important matters regarding life and love and the rest of it. Have you considered that at all?”
“If I am wrong,” Fiona said slowly, “if Jonathon doesn’t care for me, doesn’t love me, if he is not intent upon marriage, I shall have to face that.” She drew a deep breath. “But I have no regrets about joining him in his bed. I should have, I suppose, it’s quite wicked of me not to and probably stupid as well, but there you have it.”
“Good.” Judith nodded firmly. “Regrets are a dreadful thing. One cannot change the past, be it a decade ago or simply this morning. It is a waste of time to try to do so.”
Fiona shrugged. “I’m not a child, I know my own mind and I know as well the consequences of my actions. I wasn’t simply swept away by blind passion. I love him, and regardless of what happens I shall have the memory of being with him for the rest of my days.”
“There are worse things to have in one’s past than a good memory or two. Particularly if it involves love.” Judith gave her a quick hug, then turned to go. “Oh, and by the way, I still want a copy of your book.”
Fiona hadn’t considered the book at all since this morning. If she was going to marry Jonathon, it was no longer necessary to proceed with it. Still, Jonathon had said it was in the hands of the printers and orders had been taken. Who knew how many copies had been produced at this point?
Judith leaned closer in a confidential manner. “I’ve always wanted to know someone named Anonymous. It makes me feel as though I am the protector of great secrets. Besides, it will serve as something of a keepsake for us all. Probably not something you will want to show your children. Or grandchildren. Although, perhaps my children…”
Fiona laughed. “I shall see to it that you receive a copy.”
“I told Jonathon at the very start that I wanted one. And as he was only going to have a handful printed altogether, I did want to make sure I did not miss the opportunity to acquire one of my own.”
“A handful altogether?” Fiona shook her head. “You mean initially, don’t you? Not altogether. Just a few copies printed initially to use to solicit subscriptions and orders, that sort of thing?”
“No, I—” Judith’s eyes widened and she nodded a shade too quickly. “Yes, of course, that’s exactly what I mean. Why, I certainly couldn’t have meant anything else. Imagine getting initially confused with altogether?” She laughed an odd sort of high-pitched laugh. “Obviously, too little sleep and entirely too much fun last night has left me somewhat confused today.”
Fiona stared at her. Judith didn’t seem the least bit confused, but she had a distinctly guilty air about her. And Fiona doubted Judith ever felt guilty about anything. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I really must take my leave.” Judith started toward the door.
Unease gripped Fiona. “Judith? Is there something I should know? About the book?”
Judith paused in midstep and turned back to Fiona. “One of the hallmarks of friendship, of true friendship, is the ability to keep one another’s confidences. I would no more reveal to Jonathon something you had confided to me than I would tell you a secret he had told. At least not deliberately. Please do not ask me to do so.”
“But—”
“Isn’t it enough that you have found one another?”
“Well, certainly, but—”
“Do a few insignificant, oh, I don’t know, deceptions, I suppose, really matter in the grander scheme of things?”
“I daresay it depends on the deception,” Fiona said slowly.
“Nothing of any great significance, I can assure you that.” Fiona’s voice was firm. “It’s the kind of silly thing that you will laugh about in your dotage.”
“Tell the story to our children and grandchildren?”
“Something like that.” Judith nodded and a few minutes later took her leave.
How very odd that was. There was obviously something about A Fair Surrender that Judith was not telling her, although Fiona couldn’t imagine what it might be.
Jonathon and Oliver’s original scheme was to have only a few copies printed initially and print additional copies as orders came in. It made perfect sense, although she’d never truly believed the book would ever make the kind of money she needed. Indeed, her purpose for working on it at all had simply been to spend as much time as possible with Jonathon. But Jonathon had been confident. Why, he’d guaranteed a profit for her. It was very sweet of him and quite gallant and…
And there was definitely something wrong. Something that had to do with the printing of the books, be it initially or altogether. She could wa
it and question Jonathon, of course, but it might well be better if Fiona had the answers she sought long before his arrival.
She had used the book as an excuse to pay one improper call today. Perhaps it was time to use it to pay yet another call.
Fiona stared unseeing out the carriage window. It was extraordinarily cold outside and not considerably warmer inside the carriage. In the back of her mind, she noted the cold and was grateful for it and the way it numbed her senses. Numb was preferable to anything else at the moment. She had no idea what to think and, worse, what to feel.
It had been a most informative outing. Sir Ephraim Cadwallender, publisher of Cadwallender’s Weekly World Messenger and the proprietor of an impressively vast printing company, had been most charming if a bit taken aback to meet her, although he did recall having briefly seen her at the Effington Christmas Ball. Fiona was most charming herself. And completely dishonest.
She’d made up a ridiculous story about Lord Helmsley having mentioned a book he’d been writing involving artworks of an explicit nature. Well, surely the older gentleman could understand how her curiosity would compel her to seek out the book? Not for the art, of course, although she had spent many years living in Italy and considered herself well versed in art, but for Lord Helmsley’s story. And, as his lordship was far too modest to ever show it to her himself, she thought perhaps she could purchase the book for herself.
Sir Ephraim had chuckled and said he would be more than happy to sell her a copy if of course they existed. He’d explained that even though Lord Helmsley had had the lithographs produced and the book printed with an unseemly haste and at an exorbitant cost, the entire endeavor was nothing more than an elaborate hoax. But then he’d said even as a boy Lord Helmsley had enjoyed a good joke regardless of the price. Sir Ephraim didn’t know all the details, but there were a mere half dozen copies of the book printed and delivered to Lord Helmsley. His lordship had assured him there would be no more. It was something of a pity, Sir Ephraim had added, such a volume might eventually prove to turn a tidy profit.
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