by Alice Gaynes
While he tried to make sense of it all, she watched him. That should have raised suspicion but she seemed honestly curious. When she realized he was watching back she looked away and blushed. What in God’s universe could make such a woman blush?
“Would you care to walk with me?” she said.
“Yes I think I’d like that.” Damn, if his first impulse wasn’t to offer her his arm. No point taking complete leave of his senses.
She turned and led the way and he kept stride with her, as they crossed a sloping lawn and headed into what looked like virgin woodland.
“My favorite part of the estate,” she said, as they entered the shade of some large oak trees.
“Oakhurst kept this for hunting?”
“It’s not large enough to maintain game. Some of his guests would come for birds but they only found finches and sparrows…that sort of thing.”
“Not much sport there.”
“This finally became my sanctuary, although you could never be quite sure who you might surprise out here. Or what they might be doing.” She stopped and looked up into the branches, shielding her eyes from a stray beam of sunlight. “There used to be a sparrow’s nest up there. Breeding season’s over though.”
“Are you going to tell me who scarred your back?”
Her eyes went wide and she stared at him as if he’d slapped her. Damn it all, he might as well have. That wasn’t something you dropped into a conversation. As in, “Nice day and by the way, who’s been beating you?” He normally wouldn’t make such a mistake but she’d seemed so open for a moment. Soft. Human. Something human in him had reached out to her and now, he’d put her off completely.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t presume.”
She stood in silence for a moment and then her shoulders slumped. “It isn’t as if I tried to hide the state of my back and buttocks from you.”
“Still I had no right.”
“How about if I promise to tell you some time but not today?”
“That’s more than fair.” He had a good idea who’d done that to her, in any case. Either her husband or someone he’d allowed to do it. Either way Oakhurst was to blame. If he could get his hands on the old bastard now, he’d show him what a good thrashing felt like.
“Perhaps now you can tell me why I’m here,” he said. “You do owe me that.”
“No. Not until I’ve reached my goal.”
“And what’s that?”
“I won’t tell you that either.”
He gestured around him. “So what’s the purpose of all this?”
“So I can get to know you.”
“You make no sense at all, madam.”
“I’m sure I don’t. Let’s walk a little farther.”
She headed down the path again and he fell into step beside her. At a patch of sunlight, she stopped and bent to touch a yellow wildflower. “Cowslip, or primula veris. Darwin loved them and mapped them out in the meadow behind Down House.”
“You’ve read Darwin?”
She straightened and once again, she appeared to blush. “I bribed the butcher to smuggle me some of his books. Heaven only knows where he got them.”
“You’d rather read natural history than the books Oakhurst kept.”
She fanned her face and laughed. “Oh dear Lord.”
“So while the others were entertaining themselves with those books—”
“I was out here reading about Tierra del Fuego.”
A woman with a mind. All women had them but they learned at an early age to hide the fact. Men didn’t like women who were more intelligent than they and most women were. Or at least more cunning. This one had tricked him to bring him here but she’d shown no guile today. And she sure as hell hadn’t simpered. May the Almighty spare him from simpering females.
She pointed to a large, downed tree. “Let’s sit.”
He let her sit first and then joined her. “So you like Darwin, birds and the outdoors.”
“And toads and snakes. I haven’t found any snakes yet but we have lots of toads.”
“That’s what I’ve heard chirping at night.”
“Did you like toads and snakes when you were a child, Lord Wortham?” she asked.
“I don’t suppose I thought much about them. The woods were mainly for riding through and shooting at things.”
“Boys.” She shook her head. “As a child, I found more pleasant things to do in the woods.”
“What things did you do in the woods?” he asked.
She looked around her and smiled. “I rode through sometimes. Mostly I ran through. Climbed trees. Caught things.”
“Toads and snakes?”
“I released them before I went home. My mother would have taken to her bed if she knew.”
“It sounds wonderful,” he said. “What say we trap some toads tonight?”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“Never, Caroline.”
Her head came up and her eyes got wide again. Shock that he’d used her given name, no doubt. They’d seen each other naked. She’d watch him release his seed in climax. She’d faked an orgasm for his benefit. She’d done everything except to allow him to frig her and that was probably only a matter of time. Still this walk was the most intimate they’d been with each other.
He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipped her head up so she’d have to look him in the face. “I would never make fun of you, Caroline.”
She trembled slightly, just the tiniest tremor of her neck. It cost her dearly to sit there, with his hand on her face, listening to him use the name she’d been given as a baby. But she let him do it. Why?
“You are so very beautiful,” he whispered.
“I’m not.”
“Someone’s convinced you of that. Who? Your husband?”
“Oakhurst? He didn’t care one way or another what I looked like.”
“The man was a fool.”
She looked up at him out of deep, brown eyes. “Why do you care?”
Good question. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t want anything more than to escape and report her to the local constable. But all he wanted this very moment was to kiss her. Not to assert his authority. Not to seduce her. Just to kiss her.
He lowered his head toward hers and she trembled again. She didn’t pull away, though, but closed her eyes and waited for the contact of his lips on hers.
When he brushed his mouth over hers, she answered with a tiny gasp. Her lips parted on the sound and he could have slid his tongue between them but he held back. She’d revealed a bit of herself to him today. He wouldn’t push now, no matter the cost to himself. He’d persuade rather than press, tease rather than take.
Slowly and gently, he played her mouth with his own, exploring every inch to the corners and back to the fullness of her lower lip. She still trembled but didn’t pull back.
She didn’t want this, not really, but part of him would die if he had to stop. He forced himself away from her mouth, took her face in his hands and pressed tiny kisses along her jaw, to the tip of her nose and on her eyelids.
She did pull back at that and her eyes opened. They held wariness and a bit of alarm. “Why?”
“Shhh,” he whispered back. “I won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t answer, but sat there, staring at him.
Such a strange turn of events. She could play the wanton with the best of them. Subject herself to being lashed, sit and watch sex acts without so much as blinking an eye. She presented a hardened exterior with ease and had even taken his fury of the night before with a smile. But tenderness did her in. Clearly the way to the real woman underneath lay through treating her gently. Cherishing her, probably as no man ever had. If she’d let him.
He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers and waited to see what she’d do. She could run from him, start talking about wildflowers again, or transform herself into the harlot for protection.
Instead she laid her hand
on his. “Kiss me again.”
Something warm swelled in his chest. Pride? No doubt. Concern? Even less doubt of that. But there was more—something foreign he’d have to puzzle out later. Right now a beautiful woman had asked for a kiss. Who was he to make her wait?
He pressed his lips to hers again and this time she leaned into him, her palms resting against his chest. No woman had ever come to him so shyly, like a flower opening to the sun. A humbling experience, an encounter to hold dear and treasure. He held as still as the heat in his blood allowed and let her explore. Taking small sips, she moved her lips over his with a maddening precision, kissing him everywhere but so lightly she might have been no more than a breeze.
As his urgency grew, he slid his arms around her and brought her to him. He’d pay for this. Already his cock had swelled to full hardness. He wanted this woman as he’d never wanted another and he couldn’t have her. He could have the harlot but not the innocent.
Finally she responded. Finally her lips parted under his in invitation. Enough. He couldn’t wait any longer. He angled his face over hers for better access and took her mouth in an honest kiss. Hot, sweet, heady. He gave in to the beast inside him and pressed her to him. Her breasts pushed against his chest. Soft. He’d suckle them until she begged him to do more. Right now he claimed her mouth as his while mists of need clouded his brain.
She whimpered but not from pleasure. She’d begun trembling again and he’d almost missed it. He was that lost in his own desire. Now trembling himself, he lifted his face and tucked her head under his chin.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
“I did something wrong.”
She shook her head. “Not you. I.”
“I don’t understand.”
She made her hands into fists and pushed against him until he released her. Tipping her head back, she took a few shuddering breaths. “It won’t work.”
“What won’t work? What’s wrong, Caroline?”
One more breath, deeper this time, and she straightened. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Thank you for your concern but I don’t need it.”
“I don’t know what Oakhurst did to you but I can fix it. I swear.”
She smiled at him evenly. “A very noble gesture, Lord Wortham.”
Damn she’d hardened herself again. She’d given him a glimpse of her true self and then resumed the false persona. This woman could tempt his cock but the other had captured his heart as well.
“Don’t think you can hide from me,” he said.
“Isn’t that a little melodramatic?”
“If you want melodrama, come to me naked some night. Don’t have another woman service me while you look on.” He shouldn’t have said that but now that he’d seen the real woman, he wanted her back.
“Please.”
“I frighten you.”
She laughed. “You flatter yourself.”
“You were terrified a moment ago.”
“This is all very tedious.” She rose. “Enjoy the woods. I have things to do.”
“Now you’re running away.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Caroline—”
“Don’t try to escape over the wall. You won’t make it.”
With that, she turned and left, her back stiff like royalty dismissing a subject. He watched her go. So different than they way they’d come here, if not as friends, then as happy acquaintances. He sat there, his cock swollen and throbbing in his pants. Again. What in bloody hell was he going to do with the woman?
Chapter Six
The footman’s steps grew softer as he retreated down the hallway. Wortham tried his sitting room door and found it unlocked. Lady Oakhurst had summoned him to join her for dinner again and he’d refused again. He’d done the same for the last three days. So far a servant had brought his meals on a tray. If he continued to displease the lady of the house, that might stop but he’d be damned if he’d wait at her pleasure. She may have kidnapped him but she didn’t own him.
He went back to the small table and sat down to stare into the fire. Steepling his fingers together before his chest, he tried—once again—to make sense of his predicament. What facts did he have to understand why she’d brought him here and what she intended for him? What clues did he have?
Fact. The woman had been married to a man notorious for his carnal appetites, and not the usual kind. Wortham, himself, hadn’t indulged in any of them but rumors flew everywhere. Orgies. Unusual practices. Strange rituals. Rumors were notoriously unreliable but he’d heard so many they must have had some basis.
Fact. Lady Oakhurst had been abused. The marks on her back proved that. Her behavior in the woods the other day provided a clue as well. She clearly didn’t want anyone close to her emotionally. Intimacy frightened her. Obviously she had invisible scars as well.
Fact. She’d brought him here to act out some sexual revenge. She clearly didn’t mean to please him. She could have done that easily enough. She knew he wanted her but she held herself apart from him, instead allowing that other woman to service his cock.
Could she be taking her revenge on Oakhurst through him? Why? He and Oakhurst didn’t have anything in common and had only met once or twice in brief encounters. Could she blame him for her abuse somehow? That would explain her actions but how could she hold him responsible? He’d done nothing to harm her.
No. None of it made sense. Perhaps if he could coax her story from her, he could clear the whole mess up and get the hell out of here. But did he want to leave her, really?
What an idiotic question. Of course he did.
The door opened but instead of a rattling of trays and dishes only a soft footstep crossed the threshold. Lady Oakhurst entered and closed the door behind her.
He rose. “Good evening.”
She gave him a sour look. “When dinner’s called, a courteous guest comes to table.”
“But I’m not really a guest, am I?”
“I thought we’d gotten past this.”
“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘this’?”
“Your resistance,” she said. “I thought you’d come to enjoy your stay here.”
“I’m a prisoner.”
“I’ve given you the run of Sans Regret. Another man might thank me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “I’m not free to leave, am I?”
“Why would you want to?”
“No one likes being held against his will.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake.” She sighed. “Do sit down. I have to crane my neck to look at you.”
“Only if you’ll join me.” He gestured to the chair near his.
She walked to the table and sat in the chair he’d indicated. “Very well. Now then, why have you been avoiding me?”
“Why did you ask me to kiss you and then pull away?”
She stared into the fire. In the dim light, it was hard to tell but she might have blushed.
“I don’t like kissing people,” she said. Finally.
“You’ve kissed me numerous times. You did it the first night we met. You even kissed that woman.” The memory of those women caressing each other—breasts rubbing breasts—haunted his dreams. Thinking of it now made him hard but he needed information, not titillation.
“That’s different,” she said.
“I don’t see how.”
“I can’t explain it. It just is.”
Evasion or honest answer? She still wouldn’t return his gaze. Possibly she didn’t understand herself why some kisses were different from others. He’d only discovered the difference since kissing both of her personas. They were nothing like each other.
“All right then, who beat you?” he asked. “Your husband?”
“He had other people do it. He liked to watch.”
“Bastard,” Wortham muttered. “What other people?”
She shrugged as if
to say it didn’t matter. “Sometimes his friends. Sometimes people he hired. Albert was one of his favorites.”
“Was he the fellow who did it when I watched?”
“The very one. He has a subtle way with the whip. He can make it harmless but convincing or he can create maximum pain and blood.”
“I gather Oakhurst preferred the latter.”
She stared down at her hands. “You saw my back.”
“I’m very sorry.”
She looked at him then. “I don’t need your pity.”
“I didn’t say I pitied you. I said I was sorry you were beaten.”
“It’s over now.”
It wasn’t over, though, not even remotely. She carried every beating inside her. She thought she’d mastered her pain but it lay just below the surface looking for a chance to escape. Any expression of tenderness brought it out in ways she couldn’t control. That was what had frightened her when she’d allowed him a real kiss. Should he use the knowledge for his own advantage? Normally he’d say no but these were not normal circumstances. Aside from the fact that he craved her with every nerve in his body, he might be able to use her weakness to escape.
“What else did Oakhurst do to you?” he asked.
“He forced himself on me but that’s what husbands do, isn’t it?”
“Some, I imagine. Not the good ones.”
“You’d never force yourself on your wife?” she asked.
“I’d never force myself on anyone,” he answered. “A good lover doesn’t have to.”
“No you seduce instead.”
“My good lady, you’re talking about a man making love to his wife. Even Prince Albert approved of that.” He leaned toward her. “How you can make that into a negative is beyond me.”
“The Queen has to have an heir.”
“She’s done rather better than that. By God you’re a worse prig than the prince.”
“I won’t have you insult me in my own home.” She rested a palm on the table and glowered at him. In the fire’s light, her eyes seemed to shoot sparks. “You have no idea what I endured in Sans Regret.”