“Oh, I don’t—”
“There’s no need,” Barbara broke in. “I always walk alone.”
Gibson gaped at her. “Walk alone? On a day such as this? My Lady, forgive me, but this is England. Any day of full sun must be taken advantage of while it lasts. And anyway, I came here, in truth, to oversee Jeffrey’s recovery. He needs the exercise and fresh air.”
Gibson cast a significant look to Jeffrey that was not lost on Barbara, though she pretended not to notice.
“Well if it’s in the interest of his health…” Barbara said.
Jeffrey looked distinctly uncomfortable, licking his lips nervously.
Gibson triumphantly slapped Jeffrey on the back. “See you at home then.”
And with that, Barbara was alone again with Jeffrey. He cleared his throat, placing his hat upon his head and draping his greatcoat over his arm. Without saying a word, Barbara wrapped her cloak about her. The sun was warm, but the breeze was still chilly.
They started their walk in perfect silence. Starlings flew in great twisting murmurations over the gentle hills, capturing both of their attentions as they walked side by side, close enough to link their arms, but decidedly not touching.
The sudden absence of the jovial chattering of Gibson left a void between them. Barbara could not stop thinking about the kiss, the memory of it making her pulse quicken. She chanced a glance up at Jeffrey. From where she stood, his scars were not visible, and his proud profile was striking against the pastoral scene. Something within her ached maddeningly.
“Beautiful day…” he said suddenly.
“Er…yes. It is.”
The stilted conversation was such an obvious and jarring change from the easiness of their morning with Gibson there that it was almost comical. She could have laughed, if she was not so anxious and uncertain.
One thing she was certain of, however, was that Jeffrey was also thinking of the kiss.
Say something. You might as well get it in the open.
“I..er…oh! Can I show you something, Jeffrey?” Her mind had alighted on something that might at least be interesting enough to fill the awkward silence between them.
He looked at her with surprise. “Yes..?”
She grinned and took his hand. He squeezed hers in response as she led him off the road along a game trail that led down into a copse of ash trees.
“Sometimes,” she said, carefully picking over the trail that grew more overgrown the further they went into the wooded area. “When I grow weary of the sameness of always returning home right away, I come and hide down here in the afternoons. Come and see—”
His hand was warm in hers, and Barbara was glad that she’d chosen the netted gloves that day.
“I might have known you’d have some woodland hideaway,” he murmured.
Barbara chuckled. “You can’t see it from the road, but there’s a little stream up here. Its source is this little trickling spring that is just magical. You’ll see.”
When they came to the spot, Barbara reluctantly let go of his hand. The spring was enclosed by the copse of ash trees and seemed to exist in a world apart from the rest of the world. Barbara seated herself on a large stone near the trickling water.
“When did you find this place?” Jeffrey asked, looking about.
“Oh, ages ago.”
“Does anyone else know about it?”
Barbara shrugged. “If they do, I don’t want to know. To me, it’s my own private spot.”
Jeffrey turned to look down at her as she sat. Something poignant and unreadable in his face made her heart thud in her chest.
“Barbara, why did you bring me here?” he asked suddenly. His voice was low and so serious that Barbara shuddered.
“I…I don’t…I just thought—”
He stepped closer to where she sat, towering above her where he stood. Wordlessly, he took her chin in his hand tilting her face up at him. Barbara trembled at the intensity of his gaze as he stared down at her.
Why did I bring him here?
“Tell me what you want.” His voice rumbled, the command direct and unavoidable.
Her core quaked at the heat in his voice, and the way his hand cupped her chin, providing her no recourse to tear her eyes away from him.
“Barbara,” he prompted.
Suddenly she felt close to tears. She was trembling so much that he must have been able to feel it. What she wanted; she couldn’t say. She couldn’t bring herself to confess it. She had not the vocabulary to explain the longing that coursed through her for his touch.
“You want me to kiss you again.” It was not a question. Jeffrey dropped to his knees before her, lowering his face to the level with hers. His eyes dropped to her lips, growing glazed and dark when she couldn’t help but wet her lips with her tongue.
“Yes,” she breathed. There was no denying him, even if it did mean exposing herself as wanton.
His gaze lifted from her lips to her eyes, and there was so much pain in his look that Barbara reflexively reached up to place her hands on the sides of his face.
“Why?” The word, spoken so plaintively, shattered her heart. “Why me?”
“Oh, Jeffrey.” It was all she could say. How could she answer to the years of isolation and loneliness that poured forth from him in that simple question?
He didn’t wait for an answer. All at once she was pulled against the hard wall of his chest, wrapped tightly in his powerful arms as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that took her breath away.
Then she was on her back, the soft bed of clover beneath her fragrant and cool. She was under his control now, here in this hidden alcove where no one could prevent whatever might happen. He was stronger than she was, and his eyes had gone dark and forbidding what even someone as inexperienced as herself could recognize as naked lust.
And yet, the racing of her heart was not in fear, but in exhilaration. The heat of his body contrasted with the coolness of the ground as he lowered himself over her, his lips trailing down her neck to the top of her bodice. She arched her back, wickedly pressing the curve of her breasts against his hungry mouth.
He groaned, though the sound seemed to emit from deep in his chest rather than his throat. He did something with his hips, a rolling motion against her hip bone that brought her attention suddenly to the turgid swelling in his breeches. She gasped, overwhelmed by the full realization that he wanted her. He wanted her at least as badly as she wanted him. Her senses seemed to bloom at this knowledge, and she arched her back more insistently, her hands trailing lasciviously down his shoulders, snaking under his jacket.
He pulled down on the neckline of her dress, his breathing ragged and hoarse as he freed her breast from its confines. She cried out, her hands flying to his hair when he dragged his hot tongue over the tightening bud of her nipple.
“Jeffrey!” she gasped, writhing beneath him as he nipped and suckled at the delicate flesh.
In response, he kissed back up her neck, leaving her breast exposed to the chilled air as he whispered in her ear.
“Is this what you want, Barbara?” he asked. His hand was at her skirt now, bunching it up past her knees so that he could snake his hand up her thigh.
“Yes. Yes.” She panted. “But Jeffrey—”
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t ruin you. No one need ever know.”
Chapter 23
There was something terribly sad in the way he said it.
No one need ever know.
As if he assumed that she would be ashamed if anyone knew that she had been with him. Truthfully, she would be ashamed, as any woman would be, to be known to have had a tryst with a man in broad daylight next to a spring. But not because of there being anything wrong with him. Barbara’s heart ached, and she longed to console him. How could she convince him that her desire for him was fervent and genuine?
She had no time to contemplate that question because then his mouth was at the side of her throat, his gentle kisses raising the hairs at the back of
her neck as his hand worked up her inner thigh. A shudder ran through her, of trepidation, yes, but something beyond that as well.
When his hand worked its way to the crux of her legs, she gasped quietly. The gentle heat and pressure of his palm against her core relieved some of the terrible tension that had been building there.
“Oh, Jeffrey,” she murmured, and she felt him smile against the sensitive skin of her neck.
Instinctively, she writhed against his hand. The relief that she had felt at the first contact of his touch had been only momentary and had made way for an even greater need. His fingers began to move, working tiny circles around the taut bundle of nerves that screamed out for release. She’d never been touched like this by a man, and although his hand was much larger and rougher than her own, she couldn’t fault that. She let her knees fall apart, giving him greater access to the hidden parts of her.
His breathing was ragged as he toyed with her, his erection insistent against her hip. She longed to touch him there, to give him some measure of the pleasure he was giving her, but when she trailed her hands down his stomach, he shifted away from her.
She was in no position to insist. Despite her lustful curiosity, her own arousal was reaching a fever pitch and it was all she could do to stop herself from moaning shamefully. She let her eyes fall closed, her fingers clenching around fistfuls of his shirt. The coolness of the day had melted away, and now even the air that she gulped into her lungs felt hot and thick.
He certainly seemed to know what he was doing. His touch was at first slow and deliberate, teasing her and coaxing the mounting pleasure to rise in intensity with every passing moment. Gradually, his movements became quicker, more frenetic, and her hips rolled to meet his rhythm, silently encouraging him, asking for more.
She could feel her orgasm approaching, building in her toes which curled in her shoes. She fought against it, embarrassment washing over her at the thought of him watching her come undone like that.
This was nothing like her furtive explorations beneath the covers in the privacy of her room. She could feel his eyes on her, taking in every twitch of her lip or flutter of her eyelids. It was bad enough having a spectator to her desperate squirming and panting, but she knew she was liable to cry out when the culmination hit and what would he think of her then?
“Jeffrey, I..” she breathed, feeling frantic as the pressure mounted.
“Let it go, darling,” he murmured in her ear, seeming to know at once what was troubling her. His hot breath against her ear and the dark hoarseness of his voice was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced. She knew that she was moments from completion, but she wanted more, more, more. She wanted to feel his skin against her own and to experience, at last, the feeling of fullness that must exist when a man buried the hard length of him deep inside a woman.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe, the whole world condensed down to that moment. He was whispering something against her ear, but she couldn’t focus. He said her name, his voice caressing each syllable.
It happened all at once. In a moment the aching pressure between her legs seemed to shoot up to the top of her head. She cried out, the strangled sound ripped from her throat as her back arched off of the ground and the world seemed to shatter into a million glittering shards.
He didn’t stop until the waves subsided, covering her face and neck with kisses as she caught her breath. It wasn’t until then that she again felt the chill in the air. Her dress was bunched up to her hips, and her thighs quivered now from the cold rather than anything else.
What would he do now? His erection was still prominent against her hip, insistent that they were not through yet, even though she felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her and like she wouldn’t be able to move again for some time.
When she shivered again, he seemed to notice, because he tenderly covered her legs once more with the layers of her skirts.
“But…” she said. “Don’t you want..? I mean, what about you?” She pushed herself up on her hands. The day seemed brighter, as if the sun had moved closer to the earth, dazzling her eyes. It felt as though all of the shadows had been dissolved, leaving nowhere to hide.
“I told you I wouldn’t ruin you,” he said simply. She realized that he was not meeting her gaze and her stomach turned with anxiety.
“I know but surely you still—” She stammered. He was rising to his feet, smoothing his clothing and brushing bits of grass off of his knees.
She felt dismissed, her hands beginning to tremble in dread.
What have you done now?
“It’s all right,” he said, suddenly smiling down at her as he gave her his hand to help her to her feet. “You don’t owe me anything. It was enough.”
She’d never been less comforted by a gentleman’s assurances.
“Jeffrey, I don’t understand. Don’t you want me?”
He laughed, touching the side of her face and bending down to kiss her. She tilted her chin up, but he avoided her lips, kissing her forehead instead. It was an absurdly familial kiss after such an encounter. Barbara’s cheeks burned.
“I told you before that I’m at your command, Barbara,” he said. “But I must draw the line somewhere. I’d hate to put you into a position where you feel compelled to marry me because you got carried away.”
The breath rushed out of her lungs.
“Carried away? Is that what you think? You think I’m some fool girl who can’t control her…her..”
“Appetites?”
“Jeffrey!”
He laughed, but it was an odd, hollow sound. “Don’t be upset, darling. I am trying to be kind. I can imagine how frustrating it must be, to be a lady in our society, with so few outlets for her natural human desires. I assumed you would be happy to have someone who can alleviate that…pressure, without any serious consequences.”
He was beginning to walk back up the path that led to the road, but she caught him by the elbow.
“Is it so beyond the scope of possibility that I might actually care for you? Love you, even?” For a confession of love, her tone was rather acerbic, but she couldn’t help it. His dismissive tone after so intimate a moment had her reeling and the words rushed out of her before she could think twice about them. She knew as she said it that it was the truth, though. The honest, naked truth.
He gazed down at her darkly and she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
“You don’t mean that.”
Frustrated tears were welling up in her eyes and, not knowing how else to try and convince him of the depth of her feelings for him, she threw herself against his chest, snaking her hands inside his waistcoat to wrap around his back.
“I must seem so silly and childish to you,” she said against his shirt. “Just a stupid little girl who doesn’t know anything about the world. Maybe other women you’ve been with could be cool and dignified and able to share…such things with you without falling in love but I can’t. I can’t.” She knew even as she was saying it that she was only proving him right.
Blast him for bringing out the fool in me.
Thankfully, he wrapped his arms around her, smoothing her hair and kissing the top of her head.
“Shh…” he whispered, holding her close. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry. I thought that was all you wanted from me.”
She shook her head. “Why? Why would you think that?”
She looked up at him. The hard, dismissive edge to his expression was gone now, and he was looking down at her with something like wariness.
“Well,” he whispered. “Look at me.”
“I am,” she replied, touching the scarred half of his face. “I have been. I can’t help looking at you.” She rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek, feeling the rippled skin against her lips.
“You can do better,” he said darkly.
She shook her head, her nose brushing against his cheek as she did. “My father has been trying to marry me
off for years now. Gentleman after gentleman has been paraded through my drawing room, but none of them have fascinated me the way that you have. Surely you believe that? Unless you think that this wasn’t the first time I’ve had a man’s hand up my dress.”
She felt the muscles in his stomach twitch at those words, and she remembered the hard length of his arousal and felt consoled that, at the very least, she had this control over his body. He wanted her. That he could not deny.
“I’ve never thought that about you,” he assured her.
She fell back on her heels and nestled her cheek against his warm chest. “I’ve said that I love you, Jeffrey. Maybe I said it at the wrong time, or in the wrong way, but I won’t take it back. I can’t.”
A Seductive Lady For The Scarred Earl (Steamy Regency Romance) Page 16