by Alice Gaynes
“Then why don’t you tell me?”
“It started on my wedding night, if you must know.” She rose and paced in front of the fire. “At an inn. Before we even got here.”
Finally he might get to the bottom of what had made her into what she was today. He didn’t interrupt but sat quietly, waiting for more of the story. One of the logs in the grate chose that moment to break apart with a loud hiss.
“He was drunk when we went to bed. Unable to perform. I counted myself lucky until I awoke in the middle of the night. Someone was fondling me. A very pleasant sensation, actually. Only my husband wasn’t doing it.”
“He allowed someone else to touch you?”
“You met her the other night. Abby. She sucked you dry. She was doing it to Oakhurst that night and toying with me all the while.”
The scene was innocent compared to some of the stories Wortham had heard about the man but it must have been confusing—even frightening—to an innocent. And on her wedding night.
“When Abby’d gotten him fully erect, he thrust himself into me and rode me like a madman.”
“With no care or preparation?”
“Only what Abby had given me.” She paced some more, as if movement could hold off memories of the pain. “When he’d finished, he got up, told me to clean myself and left the room. I did and Abby held me while I went back to sleep.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Caroline.”
She stopped pacing and scowled at him. “But it often is, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t know. Possibly.”
“He was trying to get an heir on me. He’d never let another man do that to me until I’d had a son. I had my revenge. I never conceived.”
“But he did other things.”
“Oh yes,” she said. “I’ve sucked almost as many cocks as Abby has. I don’t like things near my mouth.”
“No kissing.”
“You understand finally.”
Not entirely, but the bit about kissing made sense now. He wouldn’t try that again unless she asked but he could still do other things. She had to have carnal appetites. Everyone did. He knew how to arouse a woman. It would take longer with a woman who’d had a painful past but he had plenty of time.
“There are other orifices on a woman’s body a man can use without getting her with child,” she said.
“Bloody hell. He did that to you against your will?”
“He and various other men while he watched.” She turned and looked into the fire. “At least, none of them were as large as you.”
“Bastards.”
“They did it with each other too. They seemed to enjoy it.”
“It’s one thing to do something for pleasure and another thing to have it forced on you.”
She gave him a sharp look. “Do you do that for pleasure?”
“No.” A woman’s mouth and wet pussy offered more than enough delight.
“Then you wouldn’t be tempted to do it to me,” she said.
“I wouldn’t do anything to you that you didn’t want.”
She arched a brow. “You’re so sure of yourself.”
“I’m sure of you,” he answered. “You want me, Caroline, even if you won’t admit it to yourself.”
“Enough of this.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m having dinner sent up to you tonight but this is the last time.”
“I’d expected as much.”
“From tomorrow on, I expect you to join me for meals,” she said.
“I’ll do what I want or I’ll go hungry,” he said right back.
“I expected you to say that.”
“Do you plan to feed me by force?” he asked.
She looked at him evenly. “I plan not to eat myself. I’ll miss every meal you do until you stop your silliness.”
“You’d starve yourself?”
She shrugged. “Oakhurst would lock me in here and refuse to feed me if I misbehaved. I imagine I’ll handle it better than you.”
“Bloody hell.”
The footman appeared with a tray. He glanced toward Lady Oakhurst and stayed where he was.
“You can bring that in,” she said to him. She watched in silence as the servant placed dinner on the table and then retreated.
“Enjoy your dinner,” she said as she turned to go. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”
“Wait a moment.”
She stopped and looked back.
“Why have you brought me here? I had nothing to do with Oakhurst and what happened to you.”
She gave him a Mona Lisa smile—completely unreadable. “Tomorrow. Breakfast.”
* * * * *
Wortham did appear for breakfast the next morning. Freshly bathed and shaved, he smelled of soap and crisp linen. He took one look at her clothes—the scandalous gown of black lace Oakhurst had brought from Paris—and started. He recovered quickly, though, walked to the sideboard and picked up a plate. “You’re brother joining us this morning?”
“He’s already eaten and left.” So had Abby, after helping Caroline arrange the gown to show off her breasts.
“Did he see you in that?” Wortham said, gesturing with his free hand.
“I wore my dressing gown over it.”
“And removed it for me. I’m flattered.” He scooped some eggs and sausage onto his plate, grabbed a piece of toast and took his food to the empty seat next to hers. Smiling easily at her, he sat down.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“I can get it for myself.”
She rose. “Please. Let me.”
Allowing the lace to whisper over her belly, rump, and legs Caroline walked to the sideboard and picked up a cup and saucer and the silver coffeepot. After walking back to him, she set the cup down beside him and bent ever-so slightly to pour his coffee. He glanced quickly at her breasts and then faked complete concentration on his food. Again she bent to set the pot by his side and then resumed her seat.
“I’m glad you decided to join me,” she said.
“I couldn’t let a lady go hungry.”
She watched him eat for a few moments. A complete hedonist, Oakhurst had made sure the food at his table was always up to continental standards. Cook stayed on after Oakhurst had died, so this breakfast would outdo most of the slop served in an English country house. But Wortham ate it with exaggerated gusto. No doubt an attempt to persuade her that he found the eggs more appealing than she was. Not convincing.
He finished eating and rested back in his chair, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “That’s an odd thing for you to wear if you don’t want me to touch you.”
“I never said that.”
“You do want me to touch you?”
“I didn’t say that either.”
“That makes things difficult,” he said. “I don’t quite know how to behave.”
Exactly what she’d hoped for. Let him squirm.
“Women usually have a reason for dressing that way,” he said. “They either want something.”
“Or?”
“They want a good frigging. I don’t think you want a good frigging.”
“But you can’t be sure of that, can you?”
His eyebrow went up. “A woman with your history? You don’t even want me to kiss you.”
“There are other things you can do besides kissing,” she said.
“Many.”
“Such as…”
He smiled. A devilish, calculating expression. As if studying her for weakness. “There are many ways to make a woman come. The most direct use the fingers or the tongue on her clitoris. The more a woman reaches orgasm, the easier it becomes to stimulate her. A rigid cock inside her, even by fondling her breasts.”
The air around her seemed to grow thick so that she had to work to get it into her lungs. Deep in her belly, a fluttering grew, much the same as what she felt whenever he touched her.
He seemed aware of her reaction to his words, as his smile grew predatory. His gaze fixed on
her chest.
“Are your breasts feeling heavy, by any chance?” he asked. “Tingly? Overly sensitive?”
She kept her breathing as even as she could and stared back at him.
“They seem to have swollen,” he said. “Although that’s probably just a product of my own arousal.”
“You’ve become aroused, Lord Wortham?”
“Do you doubt it, Lady Oakhurst?”
“Please go on.”
He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, the fingers and the tongue are most direct. Some women are shy about the tongue but all respond to the right touch of the fingers.” He sat in silence for a moment, still gazing at her. “Have you ever climaxed?”
“I did the other night for you.”
“You pretended. You did it well, I’ll give you that, but once you’ve seen enough female pleasure, you can tell the difference between the real and the fake.”
So she hadn’t fooled him. No matter. He’d spent. Copiously. He hadn’t pretended that.
“Do your lovers always climax?” she asked.
“Always. It’s a point of pride.”
“And from what I’ve heard, you’ve had quite a few lovers,” she said.
“A gentleman never tells.”
“You’ve satisfied them all.”
“A few women have told me what their orgasms feel like and it’s very much the same as a man’s.” he said. “First, arousal. Then, a plateau. Heightened sensation. The world shrinks to the point of stimulation.”
Much like what Abby had told her. In that state, a man would do anything to continue. Past all reason, he needed sex more than he needed to breathe. Could a woman really feel the same?
“A good lover keeps his partner on that plateau as long as possible,” he said. “Drawing out the pleasure makes the ultimate release all the more powerful.”
“You know how to do that too, I suppose.”
“I’ve learned a few tricks.” He gave her a devilish smile. “At a certain point, orgasm becomes inevitable. Pure, animal lust takes over. You push your lover right to the edge and over. Then draw that out too.”
The chair became uncomfortable suddenly. The spot between her thighs had started to throb. Not with the pain of forced penetration but with a moist heat.
A light of triumph entered his eyes. He knew what his words did to her and he enjoyed it. But then he’d said he was in the same state. She could check the front of his pants to make sure but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Oddly enough, you can make the climax last too long,” he said. “After a climax of such force, a woman needs to relax and enjoy the glow.”
“What about the man?”
“If he’s skilled, he lets his lover rest and then begins the process all over again.”
What nonsense. No man did that. She’d seen plenty of them take their pleasure and none of them had ever behaved like that. Abby had told her stories about female arousal. Abby had offered to show her that sex could satisfy a woman. Maybe now she’d let Abby try. She certainly wouldn’t allow Wortham to school her. That would give him too much power.
Right now, the man was looking at her as if he could hear her thoughts. She picked up her teacup but when her hand trembled, she set it down again.
He smiled. “Did you never experience the ultimate?”
She had—only a few times—despite herself. One young fellow, the son of a local squire—what had been his name?—had actually taken pride at giving her some pleasure. Maybe if they’d all been like him, she’d be a different person today. No matter.
“Aren’t you curious?” Wortham asked.
“I’m curious about a lot of things.”
He stared at her in much the same way Abby did. As though he knew her better than she knew herself. That was bad enough from a friend. She didn’t have to tolerate it from an enemy. She stared back at him, but he only smiled in return.
“Some women like rough handling,” he said after a moment. “With you I’d proceed very slowly.”
“If I let you proceed at all.”
“You would.”
Yes she would. She’d have to. One last man to satisfy before she retreated from life altogether. She’d disappear into the Scottish countryside after she’d taken her revenge on this rake.
“There are sensitive places on a woman’s neck she’s usually not aware of,” he said. “Along the back all the way to her hair. A gentle nibble there is enough to set her purring.”
“You think you could make me purr?”
His smile grew lazy and seductive. “I know I could.”
“If I let you, what then?” She shouldn’t have asked but she couldn’t let him think she feared him or his touch.
“The earlobe is a tender place, and while I’m teasing that, I can breathe into your ear. A subtle move, but an effective one.”
Indeed she could imagine the heat of having him near enough to do that. The tug of his teeth against her earlobe, his breath whispering into her ear. A tingle raced down her spine and her heartbeat sped up.
The thought of doing all that seemed to excite him. His eyes took on a glow as he watched her. He’d staked her out as his quarry but the charge in the atmosphere around them worked both ways.
“At that point, I’d tug at the top button of your bodice to see if the move upset you,” he said.
“And if I was wearing a low-cut gown with no buttons?”
“I’d stroke the length of your throat with my fingers to see how close to your bosom I could go before you tensed.”
“If I tensed, you’d have to start all over again.”
“There are tricks for easing tension.”
“Am I tense right now?”
“You’d like to pretend you’re not,” he answered. “But your shoulders haven’t completely relaxed.”
She lowered them. Overused muscles went limp for the first time in how long? Still the stiffness lingered and she rolled her head a bit to loosen her neck.
He leaned toward her, his arms outstretched. Instinctively she pulled back and he hesitated, not moving toward her nor away.
“I’ll only touch your neck,” he said. “And only if you allow me.”
This close she could see her own reflection in his eyes. Distorted, her face looked too thin, her cheeks sunken. He couldn’t see that when he looked at her or he wouldn’t want her. Rather than retreat from him—and herself—she closed her eyes.
He let out a soft breath, as if he’d doubted she’d agree to his touch and then his fingertips pressed on either side of her spine at the base of her skull. Making firm, circular motions, he massaged her neck.
She shouldn’t have relaxed but she did. She shouldn’t have let her head tip to one side then the other as his thumbs directed either. But she did that too. The pressure felt delightful, as her muscles went limp and her bones seemed to soften from the inside out.
“That’s it, Caroline,” he said softly. “You can trust me.”
“I can’t trust anyone,” she answered but the words came out breathy. Curse him. He could make her purr.
“I see.” He chuckled. “But seriously, if I did want to hurt you, I would have done it by now, don’t you think?”
Think? How could he expect her to think with the gentle pressure of his fingertips at the base of her skull?
“Whatever happened to you in the past is done,” he said. “You’re only harming yourself by dwelling on it.”
She opened her eyes and looked into his face. The expression there reminded her of the way Robert looked at her. Concern. Acceptance.
“We’d suit very well, Caroline,” he said. “I could show you how lovemaking’s meant to be.”
“Do you think that’s why I brought you here?”
“I don’t know why you brought me here but it obviously has something to do with sex.”
She smiled. “Intrigued?”
“How could I help but be?”
“What do you plan to do?”
“The dogs—”
“Yes they make a wonderful excuse.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “To be honest, you keep me here far better than the threat of dogs.”
Warmth settled in her chest, cheering her heart. This was exactly what she’d wanted, of course, to hold him in thrall. It meant more though. Feelings she’d never imagined she’d welcome or even feel at all. For just a moment, she could almost believe that he cared for her and for just a moment she could care for him too.
Chapter Seven
Not since the days when the late earl had had his parties up at the old abbey had any of the highborn come into Tom Winters’ inn. When they had come, they were usually gents. Rarely a lady showed up in a mixed party but this one only had a servant girl with her. The young mite wasn’t much older than his own Roxanne and she cast looks all around her as if expecting to get bit. Wouldn’t none of his regulars toy with her though. Tom would see to that. As to the lady…well she looked as if she could take care of herself.
As soon as the door closed behind her, the lady swept through the room as if she was the bleeding Queen of Sheba. All talk fell silent as she went by. The girl trailed along, never lifting her eyes. The two of them came right up to where he stood by the tap and the lady smiled at him, the white of her perfect teeth flashing in the dimness of the pub.
“I’ll need a room,” she said. “With a closet for my maid to sleep in.”
“Yes, my lady.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out more than enough in coin. “I’d like some information too.”
He scooped up the money. “Don’t know what folks in these parts would know that you’d want to hear.”
She cocked her head and a few strands of ale-colored hair escaped from the combs that held them. “Don’t underestimate yourselves.”
“Any way I can be of service, my lady.”
The servant mumbled something Tom couldn’t make out.
“Hush child,” the lady said. “In good time.”
The girl scanned the room quickly and then lowered her eyes again. “Please, Lady Margaret.”
“Oh very well.” She turned to Tom. “Have someone show my maid to our room and have some supper sent up.”