by Gayle Eden
He had to pull himself out of the haze to notice it. Elisha eased her hand away and slid up, finger combing his hair back before he shifted again, to pull the sheet over his lower half. He held her gaze while he worked his trousers off. He had his legs free of it, the sheet draped over his cock.
* * * *
Lisette could sense his tension. She found it curious since it wasn’t particularly a sexual tension. She peeked downwards, viewing the tender skin of his lower stomach—a beautifully hard male stomach, and very strong limbs with faint black that hair. At the thigh, they seemed smoother, but the muscle was defined.
On her knees, she leaned, began kissing his stomach, and could feel his hand touch her back, her hair. He touched as if he were being careful not to hurt her. He was feeling her with his palm and fingertips. It was heady. She enjoyed his scent while her hands felt and touched everything he exposed. It heightened her own arousal.
Smoothing a hand down and around to his buttock, she met his leaden gaze. “Your body is magnificent, Elisha.’
Face tense, he shuddered. “I’m glad it pleases you.”
Lisette nudged him. He rolled to his side—
Truly, the man astounded her with sinew perfectly wrapped on his long form. He had a rounded derrière and lean side. A fan of sculpted muscle in his chest and back. His skin was dusky looking and hot to the touch. Lisette leaned, kissing the side of his neck, then his buttock, at the indented side.
She went down his side and up his back, caressing and kissing, breathing unsteady because it aroused her beyond explaining.
He groaned and reached back, cupped her head and turned his, so they could kiss long and deep.
“Lisette.” He breathed out harsh while she bit his ear and reached around to rub and chaff his nipples.
“Elisha.”
He moaned and tugged her almost over him, her knees against his back, so he could suckle her nipples. Braced to hold herself up, she registered his harsh breathing and looked down to notice his hand was under the covers... stroking himself.
Easing her body back she started to touch him there, but his molten eyes caught hers, and he rolled to his back, one knee bent while his fingers found her sex.
On her knees, she moved her hips as he thrust his tawny finger slowly in and out of her. She found the place to rub higher up, her gaze gliding from his face to that fist under the sheet.
Their breathing escalated. He pressed deeper. When she climaxed and it contracted on his finger. Lisette collapsed against him shuddering, knowing when he gathered her to his chest that he had climaxed too. His heart under her ear was thundering deep.
* * * *
They were dressed again, refreshed from a pitcher and water bowl on a small table, drying with a strip of linen lying beside it.
Seated on the bed, her boot heel hooked on the side slat, she watched him smoke his cheroot by the open window.
“If you were invited to Wimberly in the spring, will you come?”
A nerve tensed in his hard jaw. “If I can. I am in the country from March until late April.”
“Where, at your estate?” She found the stillness in his profile intriguing, though somewhat disturbing.
He put the cheroot out. “We should be going, in case the weather turns. You leave the way you come in. I’ll meet you on the road.”
She got to her feet slower than he did, observing him putting on his coat. That remoteness in him was something she counted on to hide their encounters, and yet it bothered her. There was something more to it.
He held her coat for her. While she slipped it on, she asked quietly, “What is Smith’s real name?”
She felt his reaction long before she turned to regard him, her coat open and her hood still back. He had time to hide his surprise at her question, but not to banish all the guardedness in his gaze.
He cupped her cheeks to lean down and kiss her. When he lifted from it, his thumbs stroked her skin. “I did not set the boundaries of this…whatever we have. You did. I don’t think it wise to bring other emotions into our encounters.”
She murmured, “I like you.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “I’m glad you do. Nevertheless, the games, as enjoyable as they are, as much as I could live for them—they are only physically enjoyable for you. You’re not ready to tie yourself to any man and it establishes another level of intimacy when one opens ones private life to another.”
“I think we’d be excellent friends.”
Something terrible came into his eyes, and for a moment, his whole face seemed to become wreathed with pain. “I think so too, Lisette, but have some mercy on me. I am desperately trying not to fall in love with you.”
“Elisha.” She reached out when he dropped his hands from her and stepped back.
However, he remained out of her reach. His hands in his coat pockets. His were eyes growing cooler and more distant.
“You can trust me with anything you desire, Lisette. If I can come to you when you want me, I will. You know that I will.”
She felt her stomach drop. Her heart was hammering too loud. Lisette dropped her hand heavily. She could not push. She had drawn these lines.
She put up her hood and left.
They met on the way, and rode side by side, the horses blowing mists in the cold air. Having pushed back her hood, she glanced at him on and off, putting pieces together that were still missing too many pieces.
It was terrible, now that they had been intimate, seeing him so distant. It was terrible—imagining that he was in some—pain—some torment and could not unburden himself. She had always felt his need for her touch, but she suspected it was not the physical kind per se, but rather something deeper.
The horses were so close, her knee brushed his, and when Elisha glanced at her, she offered, “I care for you—very much.”
He brought the horse to a halt.
For moments, they were like that, stopped, and just staring at each other.
At length he supplied, “His name is Drew Vaien...”
“Why?” Her eyes were observing his face, tense, the expression becoming more guarded. “Why does he use Smith?”
“I can’t tell you, Lisette.” He looked away and then back to her, and then rasped, “Real life is not a game.”
“I know that,” She retorted strongly. “I’m not a frivolous woman.”
“I didn’t mean in that manner exactly.” He sighed and looked up and shook his head.
She did not like the way he was looking at her now—as if he was making a difficult decision. She was afraid she knew what it was.
“You want me to trust you. You can trust me also, Elisha.”
He was still shaking his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” He dropped his chin down, and then kneed the horse so they were riding again.
Before they reached Wimberly, Lisette was feeling a very real sense of panic, trying to define her emotions and her feelings toward him—not wanting to sound as confused as she was. It was new to her, the attraction, and the more intimate Viscount.
“Come in the spring, Elisha. I want to have a better visit with you than last time. We can ride and fish—and be more relaxed around each other.”
His eyes turned toward her. They had reached the crossroad where he would go on to Wolford. “Don’t give me that kind of hope, Lisette. I do not mind being your lover. I would beg for it. But keep the boundaries clear, for my sake. Be blunt. I do not want you to fear offending me. I want you to tell me the truth, no matter what. Do you understand?
“Yes. But I don’t understand you.” Her eyes were burning with tears. His emotions were black and cold, almost ruthless—towards himself. “What is wrong? What have I done?”
“Nothing. You are heaven itself.” He reached to cup her by the nape. “You are the sun and wind, the warmest fire.” He husked, “Don’t let me change you, Lisette. Don’t let me make you weep.”
“—Elisha…” She was weeping anyway. Something was wrong!
He leaned down and kissed her hard, almost, brutal so that it left her mouth tender and bruised.
Elisha wheeled the mount and left her.
Her gloved fingers touched her lips. Scalding tears rolled from her eyes. Lisette sat there a long time before she headed home. Once home, she lingered in the stable with her hands at the top of a stall door, forehead resting against them.
Her emotions were in chaos. Her body felt heavy.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
She lifted her head, staring at the hay strewn in the stall. “I’m fine, Samuel.” Lisette dashed more tears from her eyes. She could not go in until she calmed herself. Lisette turned and tried to avoid the probing gaze of the driver, but knew he had taken it in anyway. “I’m going for a walk,” she murmured.
“One of the lads will go with you,” he offered worriedly.
She always walked by herself and knew where that concern came from. She was not the sort to mope or cry, or be upset for long. Nevertheless, this was a woman’s confusion, and a woman’s pain…
“I need to be alone, but I will be all right.” She left, taking a rambling route to her favorite spot in the woods, aware that one of the lads was likely close by.
Wind chilled her wet cheeks and scraped her lips—lips that still tasted him. She could not find solace there either. Her mind was hearing his words, seeing his expressions; her body felt his pain. What was it? What did he need? What wouldn’t he share, or give himself? Why?
At some point, Lisette was too cold to remain out of doors, and huddled in her coat, she walked back to the house.
“Lisette! What on earth.” Her mother saw her as she was crossing the hall. “You look frozen. Do you want to take to your sickbed again?” The duchess hurried to her, putting an arm around her, touching her forehead. “What were you thinking, staying out all day in this cold? What has gotten into you?”
“Please don’t fuss, Mama.”
Having been walking with her like that up the stairs, the duchess stopped and took her by the shoulders, her keen blue eyes looking over her face before she panicked. “Oh, dear God. Did something happen to you? What happened? You’ve been crying.”
Lisette was weeping again. “Nothing perilous happened. Please, Mama.” She pulled away from her and shook her head. “No one harmed me.” Lisette turned and hurried to her room.
Her mother called out, ordering the maids to prepare a hot bath. She gave Lisette time to take it, and dress in her warmed flannel gown and robe, before she showed up with tea.
“Here. My own special blend.” She pressed the tea into her hands.
Hair braided and sitting up in the bed, Lisette took a drink with her eyes were on the fire. “I’m not ill. I’ve not been hurt.”
The duchess reached and smoothed her hair back. “No. I figured as much out after my panic subsided. I know you would tell me otherwise.”
Drawing up her knees, when her mother lowered her hand, Lisette wrapped her arms around them. Her mother was seated on the side of the bed near her, observing her face closely.
“Why did you think Marston would do for me?” Lisette asked quietly
Her mother murmured, “Ah, that is right, he’s at Wolford’s, isn’t he.”
“I need an answer.” Lisette glanced at her.
“Intuition.”
“What do you know of his family?”
“Well.” The duchess placed her on cup on the nightstand. She then took Lisette’s hand. “Not much. Only what one discovers in society about others, that comes from talk, and there was never any of the Marston’s. They were all very—aloof. I know that the Viscount’s father passed a few years ago. He has a mother and sister. However, they withdrew from society then. Not that I can describe either one.”
The duchess winced. “I fear I was concerned with my own interests and did not attend much of what others were about.”
Lisette nodded but gazed down at her mother’s hand. “But why me, particularly, did you feel you had to match—and why him?”
“I love you, Lisette. When I was very young, I was confined much the way you were to your sickbed. Therefore, when I realized I would be wed to your father without meeting him, save the day of our marriage, or without having my freedom, I resented it. Nothing your father could do made me really see him. I resented him, and he knew it.
For many years, it ruled my actions and his reactions. I will not repeat what you already know, but the thing is, I understood your passions were strong. I wanted a strong man for you. One who could be your equal? But also—as strange as it may seem to you, I understood your nature—your loving nature—and for some reason, the moment I met Marston. It just felt perfect—the idea of you and him together.”
After a moment, she supplied. “Of course, I expected your resistance. Everyone reminded me how you should make your own choices, and I agree. But I thought… well, it doesn’t matter now, because I was wrong.”
“I never gave him a chance,” Lisette admitted.
“I know that too,” Her mother confirmed. “But you are a woman grown, and as one myself, I realize that sometimes mistakes are necessary. Pain is. Sometimes, what love can’t do, pain can. I had hoped it would not be some useless fellow you broke your heart for.”
The duchess asked, “Have you been with him—today?”
Lisette held her gaze and swallowed.
“The Viscount, I mean.”
“I know whom you mean.”
Her mother sighed and tilted her head again, scanning Lisette’s face. “I won’t ask if you know what you are doing. We seldom do when we are in it. All that I must know, Lisette, is if you are on a path you truly believe will bring you happiness in the end?”
Looking away, Lisette replied, “I wish I knew, Mama. I wish—I could see what is right before my eyes, but I cannot.” She straightened her legs and slid down in the bed.
The duchess arose and pulled the cover over her shoulders when Lisette rolled to her side. She leaned down and kissed her brow, smoothing it with her hand. “I trust you, Lisette. More than any of my children, I trust your spirit, and strength. You are my daughter, after all. We don’t give up on anyone, not on ourselves either.”
Lisette lay still after the door closed. She closed her eyes and saw his face, that expression just before he had ridden away. By the time sleep claimed her, she knew—she had to see him, touch him, she had to be with him again.
* * * *
Marston answered Lady Juliette summons. He had planned to leave by noon and had already thanked his hosts and expressed his sincere pleasure at having been their guests. In a black coat, trousers, white shirt, he entered the parlor where Lady Juliette was standing by the window.
“You wished to see me?”
She smiled imperceptibly at him. “Someone does.” Her gaze went over him. “She’s in the gazebo.”
He blinked and then nodded, feeling something intense and impatient wash over him before he turned and exited the house. Walking round to the side, he took a path to the gazebo.
It was a clear day but brisk. His breath panted white puffs while he walked toward it. He could already see Lisette standing in the center, watching his approach.
When he stepped up and under the shelter, Elisha’s gaze took in her blue nip-waisted riding jacket, skirt, and blouse with jabot, boots and black gloves. Her hair was drawn back and gathered in a net. She looked—beautiful. Her eyes were vivid and her cheeks flushed, her lips dark.
“Is something wrong?” He reached for her hand.
She put hers in it. “Yes.”
“What can I do?”
“Make love to me.”
Elisha did not think he heard her right. His eyes bore into hers. “What?”
She said it again, in strong tones, with no hesitation.
Then, “There is a small cottage that I asked to have prepared.” Lisette reached and touched his face. “I cannot wait until spring. I need you. All of you.”
His h
ead light and blood hot, Elisha gathered her to him and kissed her. His skin was alive, his heart pumping rapidly. The taste of her desire was palpable. “You know the way?” He took her hand.
She nodded and led him out of the gazebo, around to where her horse waited.
Elisha climbed in the saddle, and reached for her, pulling her across his lap. They rode east and about a half mile, before he saw the small cottage. Its warm amber windows were aglow and smoke puffed from the chimney.
Elisha set her down and then dismounted. He walked the horse to a shelter beside the cottage and saw to it. When he went round, Lisette had gone inside. He entered, viewing a very small but warm parlor with cheery fire. Through a doorway, a bed—and the shadow of Lisette removing her clothing. He locked the door and crossed the distance; the bedroom entry was low so his head barely cleared it.
Lisette was at the other side of a bed, already having removed jacket and skirt.
He undressed too, with his gaze on her, watching her, until there was nothing but her glorious body before his eyes. She was reaching up to remove the net and shake her hair free, next. It slid silkily down her back and over her shoulders.
Sitting down on the bedside, he removed his boots and then only in trousers stood again, and watched her move onto the bed.
Elisha savored her uncovered image; the arched feet, curved calves, shapely thighs and hips—the graceful curve of her waist, flat ribs-her breasts—made to fit his palms. With her hair pulled to the side and over her shoulder, Lisette’s face was a muse, a portrait of beauty and desire.
“Are you sure?” his voice sounded rough and intimate in the room.
She held out her hand. “I’m very sure.”
Elisha put a knee on the bed and joined her. At first, he propped on his forearm, so his fingertips could trace her brow and cheek, her ear. He was still taking it in, absorbing her expression, the fact that she had come to him, and wanted him to make love to her.
He slowly lowered and dipped to kiss her, supple and sensually. Now that he knew what she liked, how she liked a kiss to start, he was deliberately stirring both their senses and hungers. Her hand cupped his nape. He deepened the kiss, his lips open over hers, his tongue taking the dominant lead, taking from her. The fires of passion fanned. Her silky moan was answered by his echo of it deep in his throat.