A Carnal Agreement (Regency Intrigue Book 1)

by Silvia Violet

  Instead, he rubbed his finger back and forth through her wetness. When he felt her tension ease, he pushed his finger inside. The walls of her channel gripped him fiercely and he groaned. She was wet and slick, and Christ, she was tight. He pressed his thumb against her clitoris, and she jerked, eyes flying open. He increased the pressure. She tried to protest, but he began to move his finger in and out before she spoke any coherent words.

  ***

  Cassandra fisted the sheets with her hands as an intense need built inside her, like a thirst she had to quench, else she would die. She couldn’t explain how, but her body knew Mark could give her what she needed.

  She cried out involuntarily as he pressed another finger inside her, widening her even more. His thumb never stopped moving against her center. She squirmed, wanting to escape, wanting more, wanting…. wanting….

  He curled his fingers upwards, touching a spot inside her that sent her soaring.

  “That’s it, Cassandra. Surrender. Ride it.”

  She heard the words but didn’t understand them until a wave of pure pleasure hit her, one so strong she tried to draw back from it as it crested.

  Her breathing slowed as she gradually came down from her peak. When she stirred, Mark pulled his fingers from her body, and brushed them over the center of her need.

  “No.” The sensation was too much. She tried to pull away.

  He smiled down at her. “I want to bring you again.”

  “No, please. I can’t. I—”

  Her words became whimpers as he began to stimulate her again, pushing her toward a second release. Cassandra needed a chance to breathe, to recover, but he didn’t give it to her. Why was he insisting on drawing this out? She wanted, needed to know what it would feel like to have him inside her.

  Mark’s gaze was fixed between her legs, and his look of wonder surprised her. Was he truly so taken with her, with this response he was pulling from her?

  A hard thrust of his fingers had her scrabbling at the covers, as if she could keep herself from falling. Then he pressed his thumb firmly against that place where all of her restless need coalesced, and nothing could prevent her tumbling over the edge. She might’ve screamed, but she didn’t know if Mark heard it or if the sound only echoed in her mind.

  When she was capable of opening her eyes again, Mark’s coat and waistcoat lay over a chair, and he was unbuttoning his shirt. She was fascinated by the thickly-muscled chest he revealed. Her gaze swept across his abdomen as he cast his shirt onto the floor. She couldn’t help but notice the large bulge in his breeches.

  How was it possible for desire to build in her again after the way he’d pushed her to that nearly painful peak twice already? But watching him made her want to lift her hips off the bed and offer herself again.

  Mark looked up and caught her staring. “Do you like what you see?”

  Her response caught in her throat when his hands went to the buttons that would release his breeches and bare him completely. As he pushed them over his hips, she gasped. Mark’s shaft was enormous, and it jutted upward in a way that demanded attention.

  His size made her understand why so many women found only pain in the marriage bed. His fingers had delighted her, but she couldn’t imagine this other part of him would feel as good. “I don’t think you will fit.”

  “As hot and wet as you are, I assure you, I’ll fit.”

  Her cheeks burned, but his sexy voice only increased her longing. “May I touch you?”

  He groaned and closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Later, I would love that, but I’m to close to the edge right now.”

  He climbed onto the bed and grabbed her by the waist, yanking her toward him until she felt his shaft press against her. She longed to arch into him, yet part of her still wanted to flee.

  He must have noted the fear in her eyes, because as he caressed her belly, he said, “I haven’t hurt you yet, have I?”

  “No.” Her voice came out in a breathy whisper.

  He laced his fingers through hers and stretched her arms over her head. “There will be some pain when I pierce your maidenhead. I can’t prevent that, but I will make it as easy for you as I can.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  He kept her arms imprisoned as he pressed the tip of his shaft against her opening. He pushed into her a little more and then stopped. She arched up, trying to take more of him. She wanted to know how it felt, to be assured he would truly fit.

  “Please.” The part of her mind that remembered where she was cringed at her desperate tone, but the rest of her didn’t care. All that mattered was feeling those riotous sensations he had shown her again and again.

  Mark gripped her fingers so tightly they ached. “I… have to go slowly at first… or I’ll… hurt you.”

  He pressed forward again, entering her only a little more. She waited. Moments passed and she grew impatient, bucking against him. Finally, he drew back and with one fierce stroke, he pierced her, entering to the hilt. She gasped as sharp pain overpowered the pleasure.

  ***

  Mark stilled when Cassandra cried out. Her muscles clamped around him like a vise, and he fought for control as he waited for her body to accommodate him. One tiny movement from her might well have made him spend.

  “It will be all right. Just try to relax,” he encouraged.

  She looked at him with wide eyes and nodded.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the tension in her muscles eased. The look in her eyes was now one of interest. “Please, tell me there’s more to this.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, yes. There’s a lot more. I’m waiting for you to adjust.”

  She pressed against him, letting him know she was more than adjusted. Something snapped in him then. He forgot about holding back. He forgot that she was a virgin, and he should go slowly. Instead, he began driving into her with long, full strokes, going deeper each time.

  He let go of her hands and grabbed her thighs, pressing her legs back until they were doubled on her chest, determined to get as deep inside her as he could before he spilled his seed.

  Cassandra cried out his name as she reached a third peak. Her internal muscles squeezed him tightly. He was so close, so ready for the release his body had been crying for since he had first seen this beguiling sprite. He cried out her name as he let go and filled her with his seed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A heavy weight lay against Cassandra’s waist. Slowly she pulled herself far enough from the depths of sleep to realize it was Mark’s arm. She vaguely remembered Mark leaving her to blow out the candles and retrieve the covers they’d flung to the floor. Unfortunately, everything they’d done before sleeping stood out vividly in her mind, including the utterly abandoned way she had reacted to Mark.

  She needed to get back to her own room. Lying in bed with him, she felt suffocated, a sensation which had little to do with his arm pressing on her ribs. His very presence was enough to keep her from breathing properly. She needed time to think, to consider her reaction to him, and whether her fear of its intensity was justified.

  Mark was far too dominant and aggressive, the sort of man she would have avoided like the plague during her Seasons in London. Her desperation to thwart the strictures of Reddington’s will had kept her from truly grasping how much he would demand of her.

  After successfully disentangling herself from Mark, she sat up. Her body protested the change in position. She was sore everywhere, but the worst ache came from the delicate region between her legs.

  She wanted to blame Mark, but she couldn’t. As he had pounded against her, somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d begged for more. She had been as wild for him as he apparently had been for her.

  Gritting her teeth against the discomfort, she slid off the side of the tall bed, unable to locate the steps in the dark. As she bent to retrieve her torn nightdress from the floor, a hand closed around her arm.

  “Where are you going?” Mark’s low voice sent a sh
iver through her.

  “I thought it was customary for a lady to return to her chamber after fulfilling her duties.”

  “It is, if the woman is a wife. You, however, are my mistress. It is a mistress’s duty to stay with her lover. She never knows when he may grow hungry for her again in the night.”

  “But I am not your mistress in truth.”

  He propped himself on his elbow and studied her. “Until you are with child, you exist to service my appetites. Come back to bed.”

  Cassandra shook her head, forcing herself to ignore his insulting words. “Surely there’s no reason for me to stay. You couldn’t possibly want me again tonight.”

  “Oh, you are quite wrong, my lovely Cassandra.” He sat up and pulled her close so she felt the hard ridge of his arousal. His other hand delved between her legs.

  She winced when he made contact with her abraded flesh, and he abruptly withdrew his hand.

  “Damn. I’m sorry. I should have realized you would be sore.”

  He took her hand. The moonlight coming through the window allowed her to see concern in his eyes. “I should have been more gentle with you.”

  “You need not apologize. I enjoyed what we did, but I’m not ready for anything more right now.”

  “Lie down,” he commanded. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m getting a wet cloth. The cold water will take away the sting. In the morning, you can have a long, hot bath to ease the deeper ache.”

  She did as he asked, once again confounded by the change in him. Which was the real Mark—the gentleman who wanted to see to her every need or the savage who could shatter her with his touch?

  Despite his warning, Cassandra yelped when he pressed the cloth between her legs. The cold did feel delicious after the shock subsided.

  Cassandra could see Mark’s outline clearly, but his features remained masked. It was easier not to be embarrassed in front of him when they were in the shadows. She relaxed against the bed and gathered the courage to satisfy her curiosity.

  “Was my response to what we did tonight typical of the women you have bedded? You seemed to enjoy what we did, but I—”

  Mark leaned forward and silenced her with a kiss. “I assure you your reaction was exactly what I’d hoped for. The pleasure a woman finds in bed depends on how considerate her lover is. Not all men care enough to see that their partners enjoy the act as much as they, but women’s bodies are designed to feel what you did. Any man who cannot bring a woman such pleasure is no real man at all.”

  She smiled at his reassurance. “Thank you. I was only concerned that I had reacted with too much vigor.”

  “Your vigor is what most men dream about. It’s true that some men want wives who will lie still and take what is given to them. They believe it is only a mistress’s place to enjoy the sex act, but I would never willingly couple with a woman who had no passion in her.”

  “So you enjoyed tonight in truth?”

  “Cassandra, words cannot describe the pleasure you brought me. I shudder to think what you will do to me when you become more experienced.”

  His words were low and husky. Desire stirred in her as his hand pressed the cloth against her body. She pulled away, needing him to remove his hand before she became aroused again. “I think I’m better now.”

  “Good.” He sat back, folding the cloth in his hands. “If you would be more comfortable in your own chamber, you are free to go. I will order a bath for you in the morning and await you at breakfast.”

  “I do believe I would sleep better there.” She was able to stand with less discomfort than before.

  He caught her arm before she could leave. “Enjoy your time alone. When you are recovered, we will test the true limits of your endurance.”

  His words made her shiver. She barely managed to say good night before scurrying across the room and pulling the door shut behind her.

  ***

  Mark woke long before dawn. Even when he’d stayed out most of the night in London, he’d risen early to enjoy the quiet of the morning hours.

  He stretched and sat up. Andrews would arrive soon with water for his bath, and Mark would order hot water to ease Cassandra’s soreness. What kind of beast was he not to restrain himself? He’d taken her like he would the most experienced Cyprian. He would consider himself fortunate if she hadn’t run for Reddington Abbey as soon as she escaped his bed.

  Cassandra’s responsiveness had intoxicated him. He’d always enjoyed his bedsport on the rough side, but he had never felt so out of control with a woman as he had the night before, not even with Katherine.

  Katherine. Every time he had been with a woman since that bitch had laughed at his proposal, he thought of her. No woman had been able to make him forget, until last night. But he was only now remembering she existed. Not once had he thought of her while Cassandra was in his bed.

  He felt more alive than he had in the last six months, but he wasn’t sure that pleased him. Was the cold, deadness he’d felt for months actually preferable to this reawakening of feeling? If he could feel for Cassandra, then she had the power to crush him as Katherine had.

  Perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to stop this madness. There was only the smallest chance Cassandra was with child after one night together. It wasn’t too late for her to find someone else to help her.

  He shook his head at his foolishness. He could no more let her go to another man’s bed than he could erase the last day from his mind. For the next three months, Cassandra was his.

  ***

  A clanging sound woke Cassandra. She sat up with a start but was relieved to see the noise had been caused by a young, housemaid attempting to bring the dead coals back to life.

  The girl didn’t look a day over sixteen. Her hands were covered with soot, and she had apparently dropped the poker into the fire as she tried to stoke it. She seemed to be trying to figure out how to retrieve it without burning her hand.

  Cassandra grabbed up one of the extra blankets from the foot of her bed. “Try wrapping this around your hand.”

  The girl whirled around. “My lady, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I mean I did. I was supposed to, but I wanted to warm the room for you first.”

  “That is quite all right.” Cassandra glanced at the sun peeking around the edges of the curtains. “I don’t usually sleep this late.” Of course after being shot and then bedding Mark, she might easily have slept hours more if left undisturbed.

  The maid took the proffered blanket and used it as Cassandra had suggested. “Thank you, my lady. Please don’t tell Mr. Foxwood about this. I only started here yesterday and this is my first position. I’m trying. Really I am.”

  “I am sure you are, and I will not say a thing. Tell me your name.”

  The girl smiled. “Mary.”

  “All right, Mary. You said you were supposed to wake me.”

  “Yes, my lady. Mr. Foxwood wanted you to join him for breakfast. He asked that I wake you and offer to bring water for a bath.”

  “A bath would be much appreciated.” The longer Cassandra sat up, the more her muscles protested.

  “Yes, my lady. The water is already heating.” Mary drew the curtains and scurried out of the room, presumably to tell the footmen to fill the bath.

  Cassandra blinked against the bright light and snuggled down for a last few delicious minutes in bed. Her mind refused to relax, though. All she could think of was the prospect of facing Mark again.

  Last night he’d succeeded in making her hunger for him like a starved woman. She’d ceased to care how exposed she was or how wantonly she behaved. But now, she would have to face him in daylight, and he would see every reaction, every bit of color in her cheeks.

  She’d watch him knowing how beautiful his hard body was under his well-tailored garments. Every time she looked at his hands, she would remember how they had moved across her body. She shivered at the thought.

  The dressing
room door opened, and Mary reappeared. “Your bath is ready, my lady.”

  The warm water soothed her. Cassandra wished she could soak in it all morning but she could not prevent the inevitable. She would have to break her fast with Mark sooner or later. There was no point in letting the food get cold.

  The air seeping in around the windows was bitterly cold, so she chose a thick beige muslin. After applying the salve Mary had brought for her wound, she covered it with a fresh bandage. The jagged cut looked much improved. She only hoped the scarring would be minimal. Her unmanageable hair could take an hour to tame, so she simply tied it back with a green ribbon. Wearing her hair down was hardly as scandalous as her reason for staying at Northamberly.

  She asked Mary to inform Mark that she would be down shortly. First she needed to compose a letter to Loring. But what to say? If she let him know she had been shot, he’d likely send the carriage to collect her before he finished reading the letter.

  In the end, she settled for a brief paragraph explaining things were going according to plan with Mark, which was entirely true. Mark had bedded her, and that was what mattered.

  As she sealed the letter, she took a deep breath and steeled herself to confront Mark. She needed to settle the matter of his attempt to confine her to the house. He might be able to dictate when and how they were intimate, but he would not control her entire life.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The breakfast room was in a wing of the castle added within the last hundred years. Tall windows looked out on the park, and their light bounced off the blue and yellow-striped silk covering the walls. Cassandra was so mesmerized by the beauty of the sun streaming in that the sound of Mark’s voice made her jump.

  “I do hope you slept well,” he said, greeting her with a smile.

  She turned to see him standing by the sideboard, which was loaded with eggs, bacon, scones, oatcakes, and bowls of exotic fruits. The catlike expression on his face unnerved her.

  “Tolerably well, yes.” She had no intention of telling him how long she lay awake analyzing what had passed between them.