Sans Regret

by Alice Gaynes

  “James.”

  Something inside him snapped at the sound of his name on her lips. That husky quality of her voice, plus the breathiness of her arousal, was so incredibly erotic. He’d hear it again, over and over, and never get his fill. She’d shout it as she neared climax. She’d use it as she begged for him to enter her. She’d sob it when they came together. For now he’d treasure the first time.

  “Caroline,” he breathed into her ear. She whimpered and trembled, but not in fear.

  He kissed her temple and then the corner of her jaw. “Caroline.”

  “Oh yes.”

  He planted another caress behind her ear and continued along her throat. She came alive in his arms, her breathing shallow and rapid. She sighed and stretched as he went lower to her collarbone and the flesh exposed by her open bodice. Perfume and heat met him everywhere. He could lose control so easily. One shy touch against his swollen member would send him over the edge.

  Unable to stop himself, his hips moved, pressing his sex against the fabric that lay between him and the firmness of her thigh. And again and again, in the rhythm he’d use inside her. Damn.

  He rolled off her and fell on his back against the bed, struggling for breath and some semblance of control.

  “You stopped,” she said, her voice unsteady.

  “I had to or I would have gone too far.”

  “I didn’t tell you to stop.” Her tone was almost plaintive, as if his stopping had disappointed her. Good.

  “I know you now. You wouldn’t tell me to stop. You’d let me finish what I’d started and then, you’d go back to hating me.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  He rolled onto his side and looked into her face. “The truth, Caroline.”

  She sat up and turned away from him. Her arm movements indicated she was buttoning up her clothing.

  “I did hate you,” she said quietly.

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know. I’m confused.”

  Victory, at least a small one. Confusion now, affection later, then perhaps trust. When he had her trust, he could persuade her to release him. But did he want to leave her really?

  He lay there, his whole body throbbing with unspent need and watched her try to gather her wits. She said nothing but the slight rise and fall of her shoulders told him she was having some trouble catching her own breath.

  “You enjoyed that,” he said. “Admit it.”

  She turned toward him, just enough to give him a view of the movement of her breasts as she worked for air. A flush of arousal still colored her cheeks.

  “You’re very skilled, Lord Wortham. I’ll give you that.”

  “James,” he corrected.

  She hesitated briefly and then lifted her chin. “James.”

  “May I kiss you again at your pleasure?”

  She nodded. “In the meantime, I think you’re well enough to dress and join me for meals. Your body seems…strong enough.”

  “My body is strong enough for whatever you’ll allow me to do.”

  She gave him a shy smile. “Dinner tonight then?”

  “Dinner tonight.”

  “I’ll expect you.”

  * * * * *

  Abby had that knowing look on her face again and Robert wasn’t helping matters. Even from across the room where he stood near the hearth, the stiffness of his posture spoke volumes of how he felt about his sister having a prostitute for a friend. At least he’d gotten to the point where he could be civil enough that Caroline could have them in a room together.

  Abby pretended to ignore his disapproval but she did get that look on her face when around him. This afternoon, she’d directed it toward Caroline.

  Abby set her teacup into its saucer. “It sounds as if you’re doing very well with Wortham.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t encourage her,” Robert said.

  “That’s odd,” Abby said. “I thought you’d helped her to kidnap him.”

  “Please don’t the two of you squabble again,” Caroline said.

  Robert rested his elbow on the mantle and scowled into a corner of the room.

  “What separates the courtesan from the common whore is the performance,” Abby said. “The best sex has emotion at its core.”

  “Or feigning emotion, don’t you mean?” Robert said.

  “You can never completely feign emotion.” Abby smiled. “But in essence, yes.”

  If only Caroline were pretending. She’d felt so bad for what had happened to him, for what her own dogs had done, she’d let her guard slip. Nursing him, watching him sleep, she’d come to notice things about him. How he’d purse his lips in puzzlement while he dreamed and then smile as innocently as a child. How he’d mumble his thanks when she mopped his brow. Only someone with no heart could fail to feel some tenderness under those circumstances. She used to think she had no heart but now she had to wonder.

  “You say he’s set out to seduce you, to make you his lover?” Abby said.

  “Ye gods, why did I agree to this?” Robert said.

  “Please, Robert.” Caroline turned to Abby. “That’s what he says.”

  “Then you’ve clearly enchanted more than his cock.”

  Robert turned and glowered at Abby. “Such language.”

  “That’s how Oakhurst taught me to talk,” Caroline said. “All because of Wortham. If you reject Abby for it, you reject me.”

  “Never mind, darling,” Abby said. “I’m very used to small minds.”

  Robert stood there, the very tower of outrage. The Queen and her Consort would have been proud. No small part of that outrage came from the fact that he clearly wanted Abby and disliked himself for it. Men and their dishonesty. Wortham still insisted that he hadn’t taken Cecily’s virginity. Every time Caroline felt some tenderness toward him, she’d do well to remember that lie. It would remind her what sort of man she was dealing with here.

  “Are you going to allow him to seduce you?” Robert asked.

  “For my purposes,” she answered.

  “I don’t like it,” Robert said.

  “I’ve done far worse in the past.”

  “But you don’t have to do any of this,” Robert said. “You have plenty of money and property now. You don’t need Wortham for anything.”

  Was that strictly true? He’d taught her things about her body even Abby hadn’t. How she could respond to a touch, to the press of lips against her skin, even to the sound of a man’s breathing and moans of arousal. She’d had all those things before, but now she wanted them. Even now, her sex throbbed remembering the feel of his stiff rod pressing into her thigh.

  No. She couldn’t want him, not that way. It would ruin everything.

  “I can’t let him roam around the countryside ruining virgins,” she said. “When I’m through with him, he’ll know what it feels like to be used.”

  “So what next?” Abby asked.

  “I was hoping you could give me some ideas.”

  Abby furrowed her brow for a moment. “Make him pursue you but stay just out of his reach. That drives them mad with lust.”

  Robert snorted his disapproval.

  Abby smiled. Clearly she enjoyed nettling him. Maybe she was playing her own lust games with him. Served him right, the prig.

  “Still you need to let him make some progress to keep him interested,” Abby said.

  “Should I try something exotic?”

  “Oakhurst’s Roman salon,” Abby said.

  “Ah yes. A torchlit dinner. Eating with our fingers. Plenty of wine.”

  “Not the drugged brew,” Robert said.

  “I don’t know why you should care. You won’t be dining with us,” Caroline said.

  “You’ll want dancers,” Abby said. “Scantily dressed.”

  “Or naked.”

  “I’ll be happy to perform,” Abby said. “Would you like to be my partner, Robert?”

  “Good Lord.” He turned and marched from the room. Abby threw back her head and
laughed.

  * * * * *

  Wortham looked out of place in the Roman salon, dressed as he was in formal English dining attire. But he made a splendid spectacle, anyway, standing on the threshold. The flickering torchlight caught in the depths of his eyes and gave his skin a glow. He was so large and so elegant, her breath caught just looking at him. She rolled onto her side on the couch and gestured for him to join her.

  With long and fluid strides, he walked to her and looked down, smiling. “I feel overdressed.”

  “Would you have worn a toga if I’d sent one to you?”

  “I think I prefer this to wearing bed sheets.”

  She let her gaze wander over him. His hair had been unruly when they’d taken him from London and now it curled to his collar. The wildness flattered his face, with its high cheekbones and strong jaw. As always, his shoulders and chest filled the jacket perfectly. More strength there. Slender waist, slim hips and indecently long legs completed the picture of masculine power. Such a fine specimen. She could spend a lifetime staring at him.

  “With your permission, I’ll remove my jacket though,” he said.

  “Please.”

  He slid out of the jacket and the light of the torches turned the white of his shirt brilliant. After laying it on the nearby couch, he removed his cuff links and rolled his sleeves up almost to his elbows. Then with a lazy smile, he sat next to her on the couch and stretched out on his side to face her.

  “You never fail to surprise me,” he said.

  “I showed you this room before.” He’d seen her costume before, too, on the night at Lord Blakeley’s. He might not recognize it, though, as a few ribbons turned it from Druid to vaguely Roman. The ones that crossed her chest and exited across her ribs emphasized her breasts. She’d rubbed her nipples to make them hard before entering. Friction against the velvet of the couch kept them erect and—truth be told—excited her as well.

  The heat of his gaze as he scanned her body told her he hadn’t missed the stiff peaks beneath the flimsy material. “I didn’t think we’d have a private dinner in Oakhurst’s den of sin.”

  “Not completely private.” She clapped her hands and the sounds of a harp came from a dark corner of the room. Oakhurst had always hired lutes, which were more authentic. Somehow Abby had found a harpist in town. She’d also found a few women willing to serve in the nude and to dance while they ate. Abby was resourceful and besides, every place had prostitutes. Or women willing to try something new if it offered enough money.

  The first course arrived, carried by a naked but masked woman. She set the platter on the low table before them and then bowed. A plump thing, she had ample breasts. One dipped into the sauce and with a giggle, she scooped it off with her fingers and then licked them clean. Wortham watched the whole display, his face an impassive mask. When the woman turned and walked away, she gave him a view of her rump for good measure.

  Chuckling, Caroline lifted a piece of meat from the platter but he took it from her. “Allow me.”

  The breasts of game hen had stewed in wine and spices. He had no trouble breaking off a tender bit of it and bringing it to her mouth. She took it between her lips, allowing them to linger on his fingers for a moment and then licking sauce off the pad of his thumb. The richness of the game made an excellent contrast to the complexity of the seasonings. Cook earned every shilling of her salary and more.

  He tore off some more meat and offered it to her.

  “Aren’t you going to have some?” she asked.

  “In good time. Right now I’d rather watch you eat.”

  She ate the piece he offered, took the rest from him and lifted it to his mouth. “I insist.”

  He took the whole thing, chewed and swallowed. “Delicious.”

  She reached to the platter but he caught her hand again and brought it to his mouth. As she had done before, he licked her fingers clean but he didn’t stop there. His tongue traveled over her palm and down to her wrist, where he kissed the exact place where her pulse beat. Such a sensitive spot and not one a man intent on only his own pleasure would consider. Her heartbeat sped up as he lifted her arm so that he could press a string of caresses all the way to the inside of her elbow.

  “Mmm,” he muttered as he went. “Beautiful, soft, delicious.”

  Each caress sent a tiny jolt through her. A pinprick of delight so innocent and yet so incendiary. What would it feel like to let him loose all over her body? Would it disgust her as Oakhurst’s touch had or would it bring her to life in ways she’d never imagined?

  “Dinner,” she whispered.

  “I’d rather eat you. Every bit of you.”

  “Cook will be hurt if we don’t finish her meal.”

  He released her arm and sighed. “Mustn’t upset cook.”

  He looked so disappointed, she almost laughed. She’d absorbed Abby’s teaching well, if she read him right. She could claim complete victory except for one thing. She hadn’t wanted him to stop.

  They continued feeding each other. A bit of meat here, a bit of bread dipped in the sauce there. Each time leaning closer together until only inches separated their faces. Each time she licked or sucked his fingers, the heat of lust flared in his eyes.

  More naked women brought other courses and then disappeared. Tiny pies of savory vegetables. Sausages. Berries that stained their fingers with their juice. Cheeses. Finishing with pastries. The harp played throughout and torches sputtered and cast shadows into the corners of the rooms. The perfect setting. Perfect food. The perfect man for a seduction and the main show hadn’t even begun.

  Chapter Ten

  Once the last platter had been taken away, the women performed a dance. Four of them—the plump one, two others Caroline didn’t recognize and Abby. The mole at one hip gave Abby away. None of them wore anything but their masks and a few scarves. Although amateurish and awkward, their movements still managed to show off breasts and buttocks and even the clefts between their thighs. Wortham slid an arm around her back and pulled her to him, resting his chin on her shoulder while he watched. His breath warmed her cheek.

  “Is this the sort of party Oakhurst hosted here?” he asked.

  “On a very small scale. He would have had more dancers and both sexes. All the couches would have been full.”

  “Men and women?”

  “Any combinations guests wanted,” she answered. “As many bodies as could fit on one couch.”

  He nibbled at her earlobe—another tender gesture meant to arouse. It worked. Oh how it worked. Her heart skittered in her chest and the air grew thick around her.

  “I prefer just the two of us,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Don’t you like the dance?”

  “Very much but it makes me think of what I’d like to do to you.”

  She concentrated on the dancers then and not on the warmth and hardness of him so close. The women had paired off—Abby with one of the slender ones while the other slender one took the plumper. Their bodies swayed, apart and then back together, breasts rubbing against breasts. Such a performance excited many of Oakhurst’s male guests and judging from the bulge Wortham pressed against her hip, it worked for him too.

  The whole scene could have come from an erotic dream. A darkened room, with music coming from nowhere. Watching women touching each other’s naked flesh. And right next to her—no, more like all around her—a striking man in full arousal. Yet this was real and instead of tolerating it to satisfy her husband, she could take pleasure from it for herself.

  Wortham warmed her side with lazy strokes of his hand and then dipped inside her gown to cup her breast. The contact sent such a shock through her, she almost jumped. No one had touched her so intimately since her husband’s death and never had it felt so good.

  She glanced at his face but he looked straight ahead at the dancers. His expression gave no clue to what his fingers were doing inside her gown. How they kneaded her flesh and toyed with the nipple.

  She bit her lip and
did her best not to whimper with pleasure. He continued stroking her, his touch just the right combination of gentleness and strength to draw the maximum response.

  Her heart thundered just beneath her skin now. Surely he could feel it beating. He’d know exactly what he was doing to her and yet he kept staring straight ahead while she fought to clear her mind of the fog surrounding it.

  “I could do that for you,” he said.

  “Do?”

  He nodded toward the others. “That.”

  Abby had dropped to her knees before her partner and covered the other woman’s sex with her mouth. The woman had stopped any pretense of dancing and stood with her head hanging back and her mouth open.

  Abby had done that for Caroline. In fact she’d done it while Wortham looked on. But she’d never taken much pleasure in it. Certainly not to the extent this woman did. Her own sex grew wet and hot as she watched now. If Abby were to kiss her there tonight, she couldn’t help but respond.

  Her nether lips felt swollen and hot. Itching. Craving contact. If she were alone, she could touch herself and go wherever the pleasure led her. Maybe she would later. Right now, she lay where she was and let him stroke her breast.

  Then he stopped. The cursed man pulled his hand from her dress. Her nipple pressed into the velvet of the couch but that wasn’t as good as the friction from his fingers.

  She stared at him. “Why did you…?”

  He didn’t look back but smiled. The expression was full of heat and sin and in a moment, his hand started to move again. Down her back and over her rump. Then to the outside of her hip and underneath her. Her gown bunched up as his fingers found the inside of her thigh. Dear God, he planned to touch her there and she’d let him. She was burning between her legs and he could quench the fire.

  When his fingers finally found her sex, they parted the lips and one rubbed over the swollen bud. Unable to stop herself, she gasped at the shock. He chuckled so softly none of the others would hear and then rubbed her harder.

  Such an assault. Such ecstasy. She could scarcely breathe through all the sensation. Suddenly limp, she lay against the cushions and closed her eyes. He could do anything he wanted to her now as long as he didn’t stop the movement of his fingers. No one could deny pleasure like this. She could only surrender.