Never had another person’s pleasure been so important to him. He knew the light touch was important. Not only was she completely new to this, but it would ultimately make the end that much more exquisite.
He had a powerful need to feel her finish. As though it would make him more worthy. He touched her again with just a bit more pressure and her whole body jumped.
“Ash,” she cried, her eyes squeezing shut. “It feels so…”
“I know,” he said, kissing a path across her cheek. “Let it happen. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
She gasped in a breath, tightening her grip around his neck, as she grabbed at his hair, her supple fingers pulling the strands.
He smiled against her ear as her body tightened and he increased the tempo. She was drawing closer to her finish and he lifted up, wanting to watch her face in this moment.
Her delicate features were tight, and her head thrashed back and forth, and then she crested her pleasure, breaking as she felt the waves of pleasure rocking through her.
Watching her was stunning. He was half-tempted to start anew and see it all again, but her eyelashes fluttered open. “I have a question.”
He stared down at her, running his thumb over her bottom lip. “Yes, love?”
“Will that be part of our new agreement?”
He leaned down and kissed her. “Most definitely.”
“Me composing music to sell?” He saw her intake of breath.
“Absolutely.”
She reached up and touched his face. “Will you tell me more about your past? What has hurt you so?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Smart Cordelia. She always managed to find the one spot she shouldn’t.
* * *
Cordelia watched him carefully. His face went from relaxed and open to closed in the blink of an eye.
He hadn’t told her all that worried him about his past. Not even close. That much was clear. As much as she wanted this relationship for herself, she wanted it for him too. He needed someone he could trust, love, someone who would accept him.
And, in time, she wanted to be that person. She knew now that her job would be to give him space and time to trust and she’d wait. Because that was what he needed.
She reached up and lightly pushed him off her. As he rolled to the side, she followed. “Well then, tell me what it is you do want.”
His brows came together as he stared at the darkening sky. “I want to find my future. A place I belong. In the past few days, I’ve realized I’ve been living in the past.”
She nodded, her hand trailing down his body. She touched him in all the ways he’d touched her and was pleased to watch his breath quicken, feel his heartbeat speed up. “And how can I help you?” she asked, placing a kiss on his neck.
He pulled her face into his hands, looking deep into her eyes. “Help?” he stared at her even as her hand moved lower across his abdomen. “You are my future.”
She kissed him again, their tongues tangling together even as her hand met the hard ridge of his manhood. Pulling back, she looked down. “Oh.”
He cocked a brow. “Oh what?”
She licked her top lip. “I’ve no idea what to do. You’re going to have to direct me. I am a very apt student.”
He gave a quick bark of laughter. “I’ve every confidence.”
His fingers pulled at the laces of his breeches and he eased them down revealing the hard length of his masculinity. Without a word, she wrapped her hand about his hard length, testing the girth, the softness and hardness of his length. “Oh. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
He made a choking noise. “Most women do not think that.”
Her fingers carefully worked up and down his length. “Really? What a fascinating instrument.”
He placed his hand over hers, showing her how to work the length. “I’d question if that was a compliment from any woman but you. I know you love fascinating instruments.”
She laughed a little, getting the feel of the movement, the way he liked her hand to slide over his skin.
As she worked up and down, she could feel his body tighten. “Now tell me,” she whispered close to his ear. “What do you want from me? What is it you want for terms?”
His eyes popped open as his hand once again came over hers. “Wicked girl. Are you taking advantage of me?”
She smiled. “I do want an honest answer from you. I’ve made a rather particular list.”
He moved with her. “I want a little girl who sits next to you at the pianoforte.”
That answer shocked her and her very sure fingers stuttered.
“I want you to give our children the patience and love I see you give to your family now.”
Her heart stuttered and her list suddenly seemed…silly. “That’s such a lovely thought. My answers were so selfish. I…”
He shook his head. “You have a gift, Cordelia. You’ve every right to protect that, in a world that would try to make you hide it away.” Their hands still moved together. “What I want is to live here and I want to start a new life.”
She nodded, tears coming to her eyes as his hips pushed up into her hand. “I want to give you that new life.” She blinked away the tears, snuggling deeper into his side. “We’ll move into the cottage at first,” she said close to his ear. “Just the two of us.”
He twisted his head, his lips finding hers. “Keep talking.”
“You’ll work for my father and I’ll send off compositions until we’ve saved enough to buy a home of our own.”
He paused, looking into her eyes. “I should have enough to give you a home already.”
She shook her head. “Hush. You’ve given me plenty. More than I ever hoped for. The rest we’ll build together, and I’ll be happier about it because it wasn’t just yours but ours. Do you understand?”
His body lifted, tightening, and he moaned, the sound ripping from his throat as he finished. When the spasms subsided, he rolled to his side, wrapping her in his arms. “I understand.” He swallowed. “And Cordelia…”
“Yes?” she asked, kissing his lips.
“I…”
Chapter Thirteen
Ash swallowed again, a lump of emotion in his chest. He wanted to confess his…love. Against all odds, he’d fallen in love with this woman. But he wasn’t ready to expose such raw feelings. “Thank you for negotiating a new deal.”
Cordelia squinted her eyes, and then he saw the flicker of pain tighten her features before she carefully hid it again, her face going blank. “Of course. We’ve decided to be the last men standing together, haven’t we?”
She pulled away and rose from the sand, brushing at her skirts in the twilight. He knew he’d just hurt her. After what they’d shared, she’d expected words of affection.
He sat up too, resting his arms on his knees. If his past didn’t scare her away, his present might. “Cordelia.”
She kept brushing, not looking at him. “Yes?”
“I’m honored that you’ll be my wife.”
She gave a stiff nod, still working the sand from her skirts. “As am I.” Then she moved away from him, toward the house. “I should return. I’m already late for dinner and my family will wonder.”
He pulled up his breeches, tucking his shirt back in. “I’ll escort you to the house.”
“That isn’t—”
“It is.” He ignored the sand. “I’ll talk to your father in the morning about our union, but I’d like to walk you to the house at least.”
He should tell her. Tell her that in addition to thinking her the right choice for his wife, she was the choice of his heart. But he couldn’t unstick the words from his throat.
His mother had handed him over to the cruelest person he’d ever known. And his father had forced him into basically being a criminal when he was a child who was too young to object. He’d hang if the world knew he was a bastard who’d taken the title.
They started up the path silently climbing. There w
as so much he wanted to say but with every conversation they got closer to the real darkness he’d so carefully masked his entire life.
She looked over at him several times, but didn’t speak either and they crested the bluff, walking up the drive to the house.
Making their way along the drive, Ash squinted his eyes. “Whose carriage is that?”
Cordelia stopped. She looked into the falling darkness. “Goodness. I don’t know.” Then a small smile touched her lips. “Who knew life was going to get so…interesting. We’d been bumping along so quietly until you all arrived.”
For some reason those words didn’t comfort him at all. Who was this new visitor? Not another lord? “Go inside. I’ll join you in a bit.”
“Join me?” She turned to look at him, a question etched in the corners of her eyes.
“Your father invited me.” He waved his hand. “But I don’t think we should arrive together. Not until I’ve formally asked for your hand.”
She nodded as she slipped her hand from his, making her way not up the drive, but around the back to the kitchen.
He continued meandering his way up the drive and stopped, looking up to the row of balconies along the music room. The doors were open, and the curtains blew softly in the breeze. He could see shadows and glimpses of people as they moved. Their laughter filtered into the night and his heart gave a decided throb. Did he belong with them too? Lord knew he wanted to.
The night deepened around him until he finally stepped up to the porch, knocking on the door.
He followed the butler upstairs, his heart beating faster as they reached the music room.
The other man opened the doors, announcing Ash’s arrival. Making his way into the room, he saw Cordelia already on the bench of her pianoforte, his jaw clenched as he took in her beautiful profile, her lovely face lost in the music.
Mr. Moorish waved, and several other soft greetings called out, but he hardly heard them as his gaze landed on the newest visitor.
The Baron of Balstead.
His stomach turned even as his fingers curled into fists. There were rakes and then there were truly depraved men, and Balstead fell into the latter category. What was more, he was staring at Cordelia as though she were on the dinner menu.
Balstead’s eyes were hungry, his chest puffed out, his hands gripping his own thighs.
Several curse words rose to his lips as his mouth curled around them, holding them in. He’d never liked Balstead. Why had he ever agreed to go to a party at the man’s home? Because until he’d met Cordelia, nothing he did had actually mattered.
But what was the man doing here now? Wasn’t he supposed to be hosting a sinful party? Balstead should return to his guests and leave the Moorish family alone.
Ash would hang before he allowed that man to touch Cordelia.
The thought surprised him, but he didn’t turn away from it. In fact, it straightened his spine, filling him with a certainty he’d never experienced in his entire life. Protecting Cordelia was more important to him than his own life.
With that in mind, he made his way into the room and sat down next to Balstead.
* * *
Cordelia finished her piece of music, sliding her fingers from the keys. She’d like to play all night, losing herself in the music. But her family would expect her to socialize.
Lord Hartwell and Juliet had left for his country estate yesterday, taking a short repose as a newly married couple. Hartwell’s sister, Charlie, had stayed behind with her family to give them additional privacy.
Cordelia liked the woman a great deal, and as the only other unattached female, she really ought to spend time with the lady, but her heart was in turmoil. Part of her wanted to celebrate the successes of today. Ash had asked her to marry him again. And this time, they’d touched one another, agreed to have a family, and a music career for her, a home for him.
So why did that still seem hollow?
She should be happy. Her agreement and the marriage to Ash was everything she’d thought she’d wanted.
But looking at him now, as he slid into a seat next to their newest guest, she realized she wanted more. She wanted his heart and she wished to give him hers.
She was in love with him.
The frightening part was what she’d be willing to give up in order to make that a reality. She’d seen, in her mind, the picture he’d painted of a little girl sitting next to her on the bench of her pianoforte.
It stole her breath how much she wanted that reality. A little girl or boy tucked to one side of her as Ash wrapped an arm about her from the other.
When had this happened? And how did she gain his heart?
She stood and the men in the room stood as well. His Grace, her father, Crestwood, and Craven. Balstead, their surprise guest, stood too and so did Ash, bumping his arm into the other man’s.
Her eyebrows went up.
“That was lovely,” Balstead called over the clapping. “You’ve a gift.”
“Thank you,” she answered, watching Ash’s face turn to stone. His arm bumped Balstead’s again.
“Dashlane,” Balstead drawled, looking over at Ash. “I do believe you’re getting sand on my arm.”
In answer, Ash smiled, an angelic grin that looked for all the world innocent as could be as he used his arm to give Balstead a large pat on the back. “Took a walk on the beach. It’s good for the soul.”
Cordelia might have worried as bits of sand fell from her own clothes that her family would realize they’d been on the beach together, but another curiosity had captured her thoughts. “You know each other?”
Balstead nodded. “We run in the same crowds in London.” Then his gaze swept the room. “And I was hosting a party, but most of the guest list seems to have been waylaid in Seabridge Gate.”
The men shuffled, eying each other, but only Ash responded. “Our apologies. We seem to have changed our plans for the next few weeks, and quite honestly, our entire futures. So you need not stay. Return to the guests you have and enjoy your festivities.”
Balstead’s mouth thinned. “Most unfortunate.” Then he placed a smile on his lips. “I knew you lot were the marrying kind. Sisters even. How exciting.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking none too excited. “And you, Lady Charlotte. How do you find yourself here without your brother as chaperone?”
Charlie cleared her throat. “My brother married Miss Juliet. They’ve left on their honeymoon.”
“And now you’re all alone?” he asked, cocking a brow.
“She isn’t alone.” Cordelia stepped toward the trio, her gaze meeting Balstead’s. “She’s part of our family now.”
He scratched his chin. “So I see. And who are you to marry?” His gaze swept over her.
She flushed, heat climbing in her cheeks. Her engagement was not yet public. And something in his knowing look made her very uncomfortable. She looked to Ash, whose cheek ticked with irritation.
“I’m not engaged,” she said, her voice too soft to sound convincing.
Ash made a rumbling noise as he crossed his arms over his chest. Balstead stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “There is sand on your hand.” He looked her over, his eyes narrowing. “And in your hair.”
The heat spread down her neck and across her chest. “I don’t know…” But the lie died on her lips.
Charlie’s hand brushed her arm. “Lord Balstead,” she interrupted, giving the man a large smile. “Since you are here, and you’ve missed your party, we must all spend the evening together, celebrating all the happy news we’ve had.”
He gave a curt nod, taking a step back. “I suppose we should.” Then he looked over to Mr. Moorish. “You’ll have to divulge some secrets to me sir. I’m curious to know how you managed to procure such lovely engagements for so many of your daughters.”
Cordelia looked back at her father, who returned Balstead’s gaze with a level stare. “We’ll chat first thing tomorrow.”
Ash had quietly moved next to h
er. “Lord Balstead, I’m sure you’ll be eager to return home.” He glanced back at her father. “I am also hoping for an interview, but I can wait until after Balstead is finished. I wouldn’t want to delay his departure.”
Balstead shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, I’ll wait. Your company is so lovely, perhaps I’ll even stay another day.”
Ash rumbled again. Cordelia looked over at him, realizing he was jealous. Something in her warmed at that. Perhaps she could win his heart after all.
Chapter Fourteen
Ash stood beneath a third-story balcony as a shadowy figure prepared for bed. God, he hoped it was Cordelia. Otherwise, he was going to have a great deal of explaining to do.
A second figure, much larger, appeared in the flickering candlelight. The curtains were drawn but even in the shadows he could see that it was a man and a woman. She faced away and from him and he wrapped his arms about her.
“Bloody hell,” he breathed, picturing that lech, Balstead touching Cordelia. “I’ll kill him.”
“Can I ask you a question?” Cordelia’s voice whispered into his ear as her hand touched the small of his back. “Why are you going to murder a duke?”
He turned about, wrapping her in his arms and spinning her about. Then he set off for their spot in the garden. “I thought that was you. I thought…” He didn’t finish as he carried her faster.
“You thought what?” she asked, her chest moving against his as though she were laughing.
“I thought…” He stopped, looking into her gaze. “Try to understand. I’ve never had someone or something as wonderful as you this close to being mine. I was afraid that Balstead was going to steal you right out from under my nose.”
She crinkled her brow, wrinkling her nose. “Him? Don’t be silly.” Her arms thread about his neck, her breath tickling cheek. “He’s not the sort for me at all.”
He pressed her closer as he made his way into the garden. “He isn’t?”
What a Vulgar Viscount Needs: Romancing the Rake Book 5 Page 8