“Oh my!” Mara’s face was filled with awe. “That does sound exciting!”
“It is,” Foster explained. “We’re on the brink of a new century! Everything will be different. Everyone will have electric connections and telephones in their homes before long. It’s the wave of the future.”
“Do you truly think so?”
“It’s already happening.”
“So you’re a modern man, then? A bit of a visionary,” she remarked.
“I like to think of myself as one.” He grinned at her, easily envisioning this woman in his future.
When they had finished a delicious trifle that his skilled cook had prepared, they made their way back to the study, which was now lit and had a fire burning to ward off the autumn chill.
He poured them each a brandy and he sat beside her on the leather sofa that faced the mantel, not daring to hope or think how this unusual evening would end.
“I recall you said something earlier about your stepmother. Paulette is not your real mother then?” he asked before taking a sip of his drink. He needed it to steady his nerves.
“Paulette has been my stepmother since I was five years old and has been a mother to me in every way, so I always call her mother. I love her as my mother, truly. She is the reason I have such a wonderful family and so many cousins and the bookshops. Paulette transformed what would have otherwise been a very depressing childhood into a very happy and loving one.” Mara hesitated a moment before confiding, “But my real mother died.”
Foster watched as her expression grew somber, almost haunted. Her eyes were so expressive and hid nothing. They fascinated him. Now they seemed full of darkness and perhaps a little fear as well.
“Did she die when you were born?” he asked gently. Many women died in childbirth. Sadly enough, it was not an uncommon occurrence.
“No, not when I was born.” Mara shook her head slowly. “When I was four years old, my mother died in a fire.”
“How terribly tragic!” The look on her face was something he’d never seen. Setting down his glass, he reached for her hand. It was as cold as ice. “I’m so very sorry.”
“I was there when it happened.” Her voice quavered a little. “I watched my mother burn to death.”
“Good God, Mara . . .” He held her hand tighter, covering it with his other hand, hoping to infuse warmth into her.
“There at the end of the hallway outside her bedroom, with flames everywhere, I could see her, but I could not save her. She screamed and screamed and called my name over and over and I couldn’t move. The flames consumed her.”
Horrified by what she’d said, Foster could not imagine the wretched circumstances that led to an innocent child witnessing her mother’s ghastly death, but he could so easily picture her as a sweet, wide-eyed, fair-haired little girl. However, the thought of a young Mara having to behold such a supremely gruesome sight wrenched at his heart.
“How did you manage to escape the fire yourself?” he asked.
“My father.” Her voice still shook. “He saved me just in time. He carried me out of the burning house, but we could not save my mother.”
“Oh, Mara. No child should have to go through something that horrific.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her tenderly.
“I’ve never told that story to anyone before.” She looked a bit surprised. “It seemed most everyone I knew was already aware of what happened to me when I was a child. No one ever talks about it with me.”
“I’m honored that you’d confide in me.” He didn’t have the words to convey his sympathy and horror at what she had endured as a little girl. “Do you wish to talk about it now?”
“No. Not now. Not tonight.” She gave him a weak smile. “I’m rather sorry I brought it up. I’d prefer to talk about something more pleasant with you. I certainly didn’t wish to put a pall over our lovely evening together.”
“You couldn’t possibly ruin this night.” He still held her hand in his.
They both grew quiet, lost in their thoughts of what this night together meant for them. The fire flickered in the hearth. The clock on the mantel chimed half past eight. He’d thought about it all through their early dinner, what they were about to do. He was hoping one of them would end this foolishness. But he couldn’t bring himself to it.
“It’s not too late, you know,” he murmured low. “I can take you home right now. In fact, I’m absolutely sure I should take you home.”
“I don’t wish to go home,” she whispered. “I want to stay here with you.”
His heart skipped a beat. “God help me, but I want you to stay with me more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.” He leaned closer and pulled her into his arms.
She was warm and soft and willing, and delightfully eager. He breathed in the sweet smell of her floral perfume, which was now seared into his memory. The delicate scent of lily of the valley would forever elicit Mara’s image.
Feeling protective of her, touched by her confidence in him, and wanting to ease the pain and heartbreak she had endured as a child, he kissed her tenderly, his lips moving with gentle pressure over hers. But she was having none of his gentleness and kissed him back with a ferocity and fervor that surprised him. How this exceptional woman came crashing into his life, he would never understand, but he knew nothing would ever be the same for him. Or her. They were now jumping into these perilous waters together.
He could happily drown within her and never come up for air.
9
Passions
It was utter madness, but a madness of the most delicious kind.
In a swift movement Foster lifted her off the velvet sofa, into his strong arms, and carried her from the study. He held her as if she weighed next to nothing. With her heart pounding and her head spinning, she clung to him, her head resting against his chest as he made his way down the corridor and up the main staircase.
She knew exactly where he was carrying her and she did not mind in the least. She wanted nothing more than to be with him. When they reached his darkened bedroom, he laid her gently on the bed.
“Are you sure, Mara?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she whispered back.
He stepped back from where she rested upon his bed, and lit one of the gas lamps, which cast a gilded light in the room. Mara sat up on the bed and swung her legs over the side. She removed her little plaid jacket and then began to unlace her boots. It seemed such an ordinary act to perform under such extraordinary conditions. Removing articles of clothing was something she did every day. Yet the reason behind doing so now was drastically different. And knowing that Foster watched her as she did so was quite thrilling.
Her second boot had just fallen to the floor when Foster called hoarsely, “Stop. I’ll do the rest.”
She glanced up and saw that he stood beside the foot of the bed, already having removed his own shoes. He’d lost his black jacket and cravat and was only in his breeches and white linen shirt. He stepped toward her.
Slowly she slid off the side of the huge four-poster bed and, without a word, presented him with her back. A quiver went through her as she felt him undo the buttons down the back of her green plaid dress. After a bit of finagling they managed to remove the dress from her body. With astonishingly deft fingers, Foster undid the laces of her corset, freeing her from the bonds of its relentless confinement. Then he ran his hands along her shoulder, down her back to her hips, caressing her softly through the thin fabric of her chemise.
Mara luxuriated in the feel of his hands on her body, sighing deeply. He lifted her hair from her shoulders and kissed the nape of her neck, which sent delighted shivers through her. She leaned into him, pressing her back against the length of his body and he wrapped his arms around her. Never had she felt so secure and protected as she did with his muscular arms holding her.
“Foster?” she whispered, grateful that he could not see her face.
“Yes?” He continued placing hot kisses along her neck.
“Do you know how . . . ?” She could barely say the words, but she knew she had to. “That is, I . . . I . . . don’t wish to end up with child.”
“Of course I know what to do. I will take care of it. But Mara, please,” he pleaded, “we should stop before we can’t go back. Tell me to take you home now.”
She turned around in his arms and faced him, trying to see his eyes in the dim gaslight. She reached up and placed her arms about his neck. “I’m with you. I am home.”
He stared at her in disbelief for a moment or two. “I don’t deserve you, Mara Reeves.” Then he lowered his head and kissed her.
This kiss claimed her as his. Marked her as his. His lips were hot and demanding and as their tongues intertwined, she rejoiced in his possessiveness of her. Reveled in the belonging to him, of their belonging to each other. The searing kiss made her only want to be closer to him.
Before she knew what was happening, Foster had lifted her back on the bed and covered her small body with his. It was then she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. The sheer force of his masculinity was centered above her and it was the most exquisite feeling to have a man so close to her. She clung to him, their mouths still hot on each other.
Mara could barely breathe, couldn’t see anything but the expanse of Foster’s broad chest covered in white linen. They kissed and kissed and kissed some more. He lifted himself off her and she felt his hand stroking her thigh and sliding toward the garter that held her stocking in place. Again, with skillful fingers he undid the garter and, so slowly she thought she might faint from the suspense, he painstakingly rolled the pale silk stocking down the length of her leg, placing feather-light kisses against her heated flesh as he went.
Mara gasped in delight and almost fainted from pleasure when he turned his attention to her other leg, caressing and kissing her as he slid that stocking down as well. The wonderfully exquisite sensations left her weak.
She felt about ready to jump out of her skin when he rose above her and lifted his linen shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. He arched over her once more and she was presented with the tantalizing gift of his bare chest.
With an awed reverence, Mara splayed her fingers across his broad chest, discovering the smoothness, the hard planes, and the crispness of the hair that covered the muscular expanse of male flesh and bone, marveling at this masculine body which was so different from her own. She placed her lips against his skin, feeling the warmth of him flow through to her. He sighed as her lips brushed his skin, and that emboldened her to explore with her tongue. She didn’t think she could ever get enough of tasting his skin with her tongue, feeling the muscles in his arms, smelling the virile scent of him, looking at his magnificent body, and hearing the deep sound of his voice as he whispered her name.
Foster groaned and grasped her hands in his, raising them over her head, and in a smooth motion he divested her of her chemise, leaving her completely naked beneath him. She should have been nervous or hesitant or guilty or terrified. Yet she felt none of those things. Oddly enough, the sheer power and strength that emanated from him only comforted her.
Mara felt only a sense of rightness. Of certainty. Of belonging. Of being exactly where she was supposed to be. With this man. As Foster rolled to the side and he rested on his shoulder, he looked down at her nakedness with admiration.
“Mara, you’re so beautiful.” He lowered his head and kissed her tenderly on the lips.
Awash in feelings she never knew existed, she wound one hand around his back and up his shoulders, along his neck and into his thick brown hair. Feeling its softness between her fingers, she stroked his hair.
“Tell me to stop before it’s too late, please,” he implored her yet again, resting his forehead against hers. “Tell me to stop this madness now, my beautiful Mara, because, dear God, I haven’t the strength to say it myself.”
She couldn’t possibly stop now! The very thought of tearing herself away from him at this moment was unbearable. If anything, she craved being with him even more. Placing her hands on either side of his face, she looked into his eyes.
“Please listen to me. I do not want to stop. I do not want you to stop this. Not now. Not ever,” she said softly. “I want this. I want this with you, Foster. With all of my heart.”
She kissed him then, and they were both lost.
Time seemed to have no meaning while they kissed. They could have been kissing for days or hours or merely minutes for all she knew. A languorous fervor came over her and her entire focus was on Foster and nothing else mattered in the least. She was not embarrassed or awkward or uncomfortable with their intimacy. Everything about the two of them together felt good. In fact, it felt perfect. His hands, his mouth, his tongue, the sound of his breathing, and the feel of his naked skin pressed against hers excited her. As their kiss grew in intensity, the ardent heat between them became almost intolerable.
With an agonized groan, Foster tore himself away from her and climbed out of bed. A short cry of protest escaped her. Then she realized he was removing his breeches. In the dim light she caught a glimpse of his nakedness and instinctively reached for him. He stood naked before her and she was breathless with wonder. Her hand encircled the rigid heat that protruded from his body. Fascinated by the combination of velvety smoothness, rock-hard stiffness, and inviting warmth of this very male part of him, she ran her fingers up and down and around his thick shaft.
He placed his hand over hers and slowly moved it away as he rejoined her on the bed. He positioned his body over hers. Having his naked body pressed against hers left her aching for something she could not identify. She arched her back and lifted her hips against his, relishing the feel of him between her legs.
“Good God, Mara,” he murmured.
Every nerve in her body was set on fire with a great need for him to touch her in every conceivable way. And he began to do just that, to her complete and utter delight. It was as if he’d read her mind. He seemed to know what she wanted even before she did.
His kisses moved from her mouth to her cheek, down to her neck and dipped below to her chest. Her breath came in short gasps as he kissed first one breast, then the other, lavishing her with kisses and sucking on her nipples. Her body quivered as his mouth slid down across the taut expanse of her stomach, and liquid heat pooled within her. As she breathed in short gasps with her entire body trembling, he moved between her legs and kissed her.
It was shocking. It was shameful. It was glorious.
An indescribable sensation built within her as his remarkably skilled tongue awakened new pleasures within her. The feelings increased in intensity and he continued to caress her intimately with his mouth. Mara felt she would shatter if he kept on that way, and yet he continued his pleasurable assault on her. She held her breath, her flingers digging into the bedclothes, gasping for release as the pressure mounted within her. It seemed to go on forever.
And suddenly wave after wave of pure bliss washed over her entire body, causing her to scream Foster’s name over and over. The unexpected explosion of pleasure left her dizzy and breathless. Before she could even recover and float back down to earth, Foster raised himself over her body once more, placing his arms on either side of her and positioning himself between her legs. In one sure and swift motion, he was inside of her.
She took a deep breath and braced her hands against his chest, as he gently began to move within her body. She adjusted her hips to accommodate him. Although a bit uncomfortable at first, she quickly grew used to the feel of him within her.
“Foster,” she breathed, as tears welled in her eyes.
“Have I hurt you?” He instantly froze above her, his voice filled with concern. “Are you all right? Shall I stop?”
Mara couldn’t explain to him that she wanted to cry not because she was in any physical pain, but simply because she was overcome with too many emotions to contain them any longer. It was the overwhelming feelings of love, completeness, connection, and again
, that sense of belonging with this man, that brought her to tears.
“I am fine. I am more than fine,” she managed to say, blinking the tears away. Then she rocked her hips against him to prove it.
With an impassioned sigh, Foster began to move within her, hesitantly at first, then with growing force. Wanting more, Mara wrapped her legs around his waist and matched his thrusts, bracing her hands against his broad shoulders. He groaned and brought his mouth down on hers. As they kissed, the intimacy of what they were doing to each other astonished her, touched her, and fascinated her. The two of them were joined as one this way, and bound together in a passionate rhythm. Her heart beat faster, her skin grew hot, and that wonderfully pleasurable pressure began to blossom within her again.
“Mara, I don’t understand what you’ve done to me,” he said in between heavy breaths as he continued to move inside of her. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life before.”
She clasped herself to him as he kissed her again, his motions growing more intense.
“I am so in love with you, Mara, I can’t see straight.”
Her heart fluttered at his words. She was in love with him too, but was too wracked with delight to speak. She could barely catch her breath because the movements Foster was making against her hips were sending shock waves of pleasure through her entire body but centered most intently at that point between her legs that he was so cleverly attending to.
Another burst of blissful delight raced through her. Again she called his name and clung to him for dear life as his thrusts increased their urgency. As ecstasy flooded her, every muscle in his body tensed and stiffened as he continued to thrust in and out of her, over and over again. She screamed his name just as he called hers. In a slick motion he pulled out, spending himself outside of her body, before he collapsed next to her, breathing heavily and covered in sweat.
The Irish Heiress Page 9