Passion Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  “But what if…?”

  He put a silencing finger to her mouth, enjoying the feel of her lips beneath his finger. “I’ll tell you exactly what will happen,” he said. “The marquis will go to Apple Hill to dine tonight. Once I know he is there, I shall ride to Ormsby Place and steal the letters. I will be in and out of the library before anyone knows that I am even on the grounds.”

  Her eyes searched his. She knew that look of old. He would not be deterred. “You will be careful?” she asked apprehensively, giving in to the inevitable. Her gaze dropped to her hands lying in her lap. “I c-c-could not bear it, if s-s-something happened to you.”

  Her words came as a pleasant shock and he acknowledged what he’d known for a long time, that there was much about Juliana that pleased him—immensely. He studied her down-bent head for a long moment, his eyes following the line of an errant curl that dangled near her cheek before drifting to the enticing swell of her breasts. He didn’t want to talk about Ormsby or Thalia’s blasted letters, what he wanted to talk about…ah, Christ, he thought cynically, as between his legs, his member swelled and in his veins, his blood beat faster, he didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted, with a craving that was becoming damn hard to suppress, to take her into his arms and kiss her, to touch the silky skin he knew was underneath all that flowing muslin. He wanted that soft mouth crushed under his and that lovely, lush body arching up against him as he sank deep within her.

  As the seconds passed and Asher remained silent, Juliana’s eyes lifted to his and she gasped at the naked desire evident in his face. To her mortification, her nipples instantly hardened into rigid little buds and there was heat and moisture at the junction of her thighs.

  The air simmered between them and their eyes locked. He looked very handsome as he sat at the end of the sofa, his shirt opened at the throat, the muscular body poised like a cat ready to pounce. They were alone in the quiet house, her father, the servants all gone to bed…. No one knew that Asher was in the house. No one would know if he ravished her, as his expression told her he wanted to and excitement quivered through her at the notion of feeling all that hard masculinity pressed intimately against her bare flesh.

  In the years since her husband had died, there had been the occasional gentleman who had indicated more than a passing interest in her, but Juliana had never been the least tempted either to encourage a suit or plunge into a torrid affair with any of them. But Asher…Her pulse leaped and she admitted that Asher tempted her as no other man ever had—not even her husband. She knew she should say something to break the thickening silence, but all she could do was stare at the sensual curve of his mouth and think how hot it would feel on hers. I should get up, she thought dazedly, and tell him to leave. I should run. But she did none of those things; she simply stared at him, her breathing quickening, the peaks of her nipples obvious beneath the thin muslin of her gown.

  She didn’t pretend not to know the danger of this moment, couldn’t pretend not to know what would happen if she didn’t bring a halt to the carnal awareness that swirled around them. She knew what she should do, knew what she should say, but she could not, not when every fiber of her being screamed for Asher to take her into his arms.

  The blood pounding like lava through his body beat back any common sense Asher might have possessed and, not giving a damn about the consequences, aware only that if he didn’t kiss her, didn’t touch her he’d regret it for as long as he lived, he reached for her. Gripped by an elemental passion, his hands closed around her upper arms and he dragged her against him. He found her mouth, kissing her with barely suppressed violence.

  Juliana never thought to deny him. Even when his lips forced hers open and his tongue dipped into her mouth to explore and arouse, she did not deny him. His kiss was too seductive, the stroke of his tongue, the hungry invasion, too sweet to deny. When his arms dropped and he cupped one breast, she shuddered and arched up into his caress.

  Blind driving passion exploded between them and Juliana sank back onto the sofa, Asher’s big body following hers down. Lying half on her, half beside her, he kissed her a long time, many times, each kiss more frantic, more explicit than the last. His hands moved over her, kneading her breasts, plucking at the hard nipples, heat and hunger burning through him, driving him half mad with need.

  Juliana reveled in his touch, her fingers moving through his hair and down to the hard muscles of his back. When his mouth left hers, she moaned in regret, only to jerk with pleasure, when his teeth closed around her nipple. As he suckled her through the fabric of her gown, the feel of that demanding mouth on her breast quickened the growing ache between her legs. She moved restlessly beneath him, her hands clutching his shoulders, touching him wherever she could. Frustrated by the clothes between them, she pushed his jacket back and sighed when her fingers slipped beneath his shirt and found warm, naked male muscles.

  The sensation of her hand palming his chest, her fingers tangling in the mat of thick black hair that grew there, tore a groan from him. He wanted more, so much more, and hating every moment his mouth was not on her, he reared back, shrugged out of his jacket and ripped off his shirt. His boots and breeches followed.

  He turned back to her and in a voice thick with desire, he said, “And now for you. Let’s see if the visions that have been bedeviling me for some time match reality.” Even if the idea of stopping had crossed her mind, Juliana wouldn’t have been able to prevent him from swiftly, efficiently divesting her of every piece of clothing. Her slippers, her gown and chemise joined his breeches and boots on the floor.

  By the time they were both naked, Juliana was slumped down on the sofa and Asher was sitting beside her, his bare hip pressing against hers. Briefly they regarded each other, each aware that they had passed the point of no return. His eyes skimmed down her body and he muttered, “Christ! Reality is far better than my poor imagination. You’re lovely.” He bent forward and his lips grazed her nipples. “Far lovelier and far more tempting than any woman has a right to be.”

  She’d known that Asher was lean and muscular, but nothing had prepared her for the impact of all that muscled masculine beauty that had been hidden beneath his clothes. Unable to help herself, her hand drifted over him, marveling at the muscles that bunched and jerked wherever her hand touched, almost purring at the sensation of her fingers sliding through the thick mat of hair that covered his chest.

  Asher captured her exploring hand and his face taut with desire, he said roughly, “I have enough sanity left to leave now if you tell me to do so.” He moved, his mouth hovering inches above hers and his eyes black with need, and declared bluntly, “But be warned, if I touch you again…I will not stop until I have made you mine.”

  Juliana reached for him, half laughing, half crying, “If you do not make love to me right now, Asher Cordell, I shall hate you for the rest of my life.”

  With something like a groan and curse, he fell upon her, his mouth taking hers with blatant design. His tongue sank into her mouth like a hot shaft and his chest crushed against her breasts.

  Drunk on the feel of his warm, naked body against hers, the thrust of his tongue, the rub of his hair-roughened chest against her nipples, she was flung into a vortex of voluptuous sensation. His scent was in her nostrils, her mouth full of the taste of him and the touch of his body, the slide of his muscled length against her almost more than she could bear. She wanted him. Wanted him in the most basic way. Wanted him as she never wanted another man.

  Gripped by the same elemental passion that drove Juliana, Asher gorged himself on her sweetness, his mouth and tongue savoring and sampling everywhere it touched. Needing to find succor from the relentless hunger that clawed through him, his hand slid down her belly, seeking the beckoning softness between her thighs. Her mound was covered with a thick thatch of curls and he toyed there a moment before slipping a finger between the slick folds they guarded. She was wet and hot, the tender flesh as delicate as silk, as burning as fire.

  Juliana
gasped at that first probing invasion, a wild, aching pleasure spearing up through her. Her hips arched and her hands clenched against his shoulders when he slowly pushed in a second finger and stroked her.

  Emotions, sensations crowded through her as those knowing fingers brought her nearly to the edge. She’d never felt this way before, not even in the most intimate moments with her husband, and she was unprepared for the frantic hunger that swamped her. Nothing mattered but that he ease this terrible neediness he had kindled within her.

  Asher could wait no longer. His fingers slipped from her and he slid between her thighs. Positioning the broad head of his sex against her, he thrust heavily into her, groaning at the heat and tightness that met his invasion. Lying lodged deep within her, every nerve in his body was focused where they joined together. She was fire and ecstasy beneath him, her lush body soft and silky against him and the magic of their union took him by surprise.

  He had made love to many women, but none, and never until Juliana, had ever aroused the emotions that were thudding through him. He’d felt passion, desire and pleasure before but tonight there was some new sentiment raging within him that inflamed all those other emotions, made them stronger, more intense; he was helpless against that power. Dominated by this fierce melding of emotions, his hips flexed and he drove into her again and again. He desperately wanted to prolong the moment, wanted to savor the sensations, but he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, all he could do was feel and give in to the primitive goad to seek release.

  Juliana gasped at his size and heat as he filled her body. In the years since her husband had died there had been no other man and her husband had been her only lover. Now she discovered in Asher’s arms that there were lovers and then there were lovers…. Asher’s lovemaking swamped her, enveloped her, hurling her into an entirely new world of sensual appreciation for this one, simple act. Lost in a haze of sensation, she met his every thrust, waves of pleasure surging through her with every movement he made. Her arms clutched him tight, the rhythmic rubbing of his chest against her breasts erotic and arousing, the demand of his tongue and mouth stoking her need of him and the frantic pounding of his body on hers inciting a wildness within her. In a torment of delight and yearning, she writhed under his onslaught, the arching of her hips, the soft sounds she uttered, inciting him to drive harder, faster into her, until at last, she convulsed around him and the world spun away. Her release was his undoing and Asher trembled in her arms and helplessly he followed her over the edge.

  They lay on the sofa, their bodies still joined, their rapid breathing the only sound in the room. Tremors still jerking through him, Asher knew he should move, but he could not and lazily, as if to begin anew he thrust into her, but the power was gone and reluctantly he withdrew from her body. He fumbled through their clothing on the floor and, finding a large linen handkerchief in his coat pocket, he carefully placed it between Juliana’s thighs and erased all outward sign of their coupling.

  After stuffing the handkerchief in his coat pocket, he dropped a kiss on her belly and murmured, “I’m sorry I have nothing better for you—next time we shall be more prepared.”

  She had almost sobbed when he had withdrawn from her body, not wanting the moment to end, but it was his words that brought her stunningly back to the present. With passion slaked, the enormity of what she had just done, the realization that she was lying naked on the sofa in her father’s library and that she had just made wild, frenetic love to Asher, hit her with the force of an avalanche. Her cheeks flamed and she jerked upright. Good God! What had she done? How could she ever look him in the face again? How could she ever consider advising and guiding her own sister when she had shown just how weak and foolish she herself had been? She bit back a hysterical laugh. Letters? Thalia’s letters were nothing compared to what she had done.

  Mortified by her lack of morals, humiliated that she had allowed this to happen—and never mind that she had begged Asher to make love to her—she scrabbled around in the darkness for her clothing. The heat in her cheeks was only made worse, when wordlessly Asher handed her the chemise for which she had searched. Biting back a moan of despair, she snatched it from him and dragged it on. A moment more of frantic sifting of the tangled garments on the floor and she found her gown and slippers. Grabbing them, she scuttled behind the sofa to finish dressing.

  Thoughtfully Asher pulled on his breeches and then his boots. He’d heard the soft noises she’d made and those sounds coupled with the way she hustled into her clothes gave him an inkling to her state of mind and he wasn’t certain how to deal with her. That Juliana was inexperienced with dalliance he never doubted, but that she might regret what had just passed between them, or where it would lead them, had never crossed his mind. He frowned as he picked up his shirt and shrugged into it. Blast it all! What sort of a blackguard does she think I am? he thought, irritated. Surely, she knows that I intend to marry her? She must know that tonight would never have happened, that I would never have allowed things to go so far, if I didn’t intend to marry her. She can’t possibly think that tonight was the start of an affair, or worse, a simple tumble never to be repeated.

  Listening to the sounds in the darkness as she hurriedly dressed, he was not encouraged. There was a desperate haste about her movements that did not bode well. Once his shirt was buttoned, he tucked it into his breeches and, after running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair, he said quietly, “Juliana, we have to talk.”

  Feeling a trifle more composed now that she was again clothed, but longing to rush from the room and hide and never to show her face to anyone ever again, she said, “What about? You have made your plans to steal Thalia’s letters and I don’t see the need—”

  He was around the sofa and his hands had clamped down hard on her upper arms before she knew what he was about. “I don’t want to talk,” he said from between clenched teeth, “about Thalia—or her damned letters! I want to talk about us. About what happened between us tonight.”

  Juliana swallowed and, trying for a sophistication that failed miserably, she said, “Oh, that! It was very pleasant.”

  “Pleasant?” he demanded, outraged. She dismissed what had been for him the most glorious lovemaking he had ever experienced as pleasant? Determined not to let her distract him, he took a deep breath and said more calmly, “This isn’t about my performance and believe me, sweetheart, it was a great deal more than pleasant! This is about our marriage.”

  In the darkness, Juliana gaped at him. “M-m-marriage?” she stammered. Grappling with the knowledge that she had abandoned the principles of her lifetime, trying desperately to make sense of her shocking depravity, the idea of marriage hadn’t even entered her mind.

  His hold on her arms lessened slightly and he shook her gently. “Of course, marriage. I will come by this afternoon and talk to your father and we can have the banns called on Sunday by the vicar. In a month, we can be married.”

  Her emotions whirling, Juliana shoved him away from her. “No,” she said breathlessly. “I do not want to marry again.”

  Nonplussed, Asher stared at her, cursing the darkness that hid her expression from him. He turned her words over in his mind. She hadn’t said that she didn’t want to marry him but that she didn’t want to marry again…. Carefully, he said, “Let me make certain I understand you. It is not just me you have an objection to, but marriage itself?”

  She nodded, then realizing that he couldn’t see her, she said, “Yes. That’s it exactly. I do not want to marry anybody.”

  “Ever?”

  “Yes. Ever.”

  “So you’re willing to become my mistress, but not my wife?” he asked with a note in his voice that made her uneasy.

  She hesitated. No, she didn’t want to be his mistress, but having given her a taste of heaven tonight, she suspected unhappily that all he’d have to do would be to crook a finger and she’d fall right into his arms again. And become his mistress. Misery formed in her breast. Juliana didn’t th
ink she’d like being his mistress, even if what had occurred between them tonight was the most exciting and gratifying thing that had ever happened to her. She’d been a dutiful daughter, a loyal and obedient wife; she’d conformed to society’s rules all her life…. She bit her lip. Well, except for trying to get Thalia’s letters back and making love with Asher tonight. Except for those things, she was as prim and proper and traditional as, as, as the vicar’s wife! The idea of becoming any man’s mistress, even one who made her entire body melt with one look, was appalling, but the alternative, becoming his wife, was something she could not face at the moment. Feeling her life spinning out of control, she remained silent, unable to think of a sensible reply.

  “No answer?” Asher asked dryly.

  “I don’t want to be your mistress,” she stated firmly.

  “Ah, so then we’ll marry as soon as I can arrange it.”

  “No,” she said.

  That one word hung in the darkness between them. His voice full of simple curiosity, he asked, “Could you tell me why? And don’t try to fob me off by saying that we don’t suit or that you find me repulsive.”

  Her lips thinned. “If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t press me.”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “Sweetheart, I may wear the trappings of a gentleman, but believe me, I am not a gentleman. Gentlemen,” he said dryly, “do not go around breaking into other people’s houses and stealing certain, ah, letters from them.”