by Lynsay Sands
Quickly rounding the desk, James took Maggie’s hand to help her up, his heart aching when he spied the mortified expression on her face and the dark, rosy flush of humiliation on her skin. She ducked her head. This had been a lousy way to end her first experience in lovemaking, and he wouldn’t have wished it on her for the world. She deserved better. The woman should have had a soft bed beneath her, a wedding ring on her finger, and a slow, passionate seduction. Instead she’d gotten a quick hump against his aunt’s desk. He was an animal.
“This is awful.”
Those muttered words from Maggie merely added to James’s guilt. He pulled her body against his, a hug being the only thing he could think of to soothe her upset. It didn’t appear to be working, he realized when she did not melt against him with relief, but stood stiff in his arms, her head shaking repeatedly in denial.
“Maggie,” he murmured gently. “ ’Tis not as bad as it seems. There will be some gossip, but once the marriage is accomplished, the rumors will die down and—”
“No.”
“Yes, they will,” he assured her, thinking she didn’t believe him.
She pulled away and frowned at him. “I am not marrying you.”
James blinked in amazement at her announcement, then, deciding she was too upset to think clearly, again tried to draw her into his arms. “Of course you are, my dear. We—”
“Nay, I am not,” she argued, fighting her way out of his embrace. Bending, she snatched up her breeches from where they lay crumpled on the floor. “When my brother asked you to look after me, he hardly meant for you to sacrifice your life to my honor.”
“That is a bit melodramatic, is it not?” he chided gently, a touch embarrassed that he couldn’t seem to get his eyes off her derriere as she tugged the breeches onto first one leg, then the other. “I am not sacrificing my life. I had to marry sometime, after all.”
“Yes, but—”
“And there is always the possibility of a child.” Much to his satisfaction, that thought seemed to give her pause. The horrified expression that suffused her face was almost gratifying. That last had definitely been a winning argument. Quite inspired really, he thought.
She turned on him pleadingly. “Can we not wait and see? Perhaps we will be lucky.”
James gaped. He already had gotten lucky, as far as he was concerned. Glaring at her, he shook his head. “Honestly, Maggie, you are harder on my ego than any woman I have ever met! Most women would be leaping for joy at having to marry me. Hell, many women would have arranged for us to be caught as we were, but you—”
James paused, his mind suddenly stuttering over the idea of an arranged scandal. It occurred to him that making love to Maggie with a passel of women in the next room had been the height of stupidity. James was not generally a stupid man. One might almost think he had been hoping to get caught and forced into this marriage. Was it possible he had played such a trick on himself? he wondered in amazement. He shook such thoughts away as Maggie finished doing up her drawers and bent impatiently to collect her waistcoat.
“I do not care what most women would like or want, my lord. You should not be forced into an arrangement to save my reputation. I was hardly fighting you off or crying rape. I was a willing participant in this affair and shall suffer the consequences for it without regret.”
“There is no need for anyone to suffer,” James snapped. “Good Lord, woman, it is no sacrifice on my part. In case you missed the fact, I quite enjoyed ruining you. I already look forward to being able to enjoy you again, and on a regular basis. In fact, the idea of being able to do so in the comfort of a bed makes me quite eager.”
To prove that fact, he grabbed her hand as she tried to shrug into her waistcoat, and drew it down to press against the proof of his claim. Maggie stilled, her eyes widening, surprise on her face.
With her ripped linen shirt gaping open, James could hardly miss the way her nipples hardened. Releasing her hand, he lifted his fingers to catch one nipple between thumb and forefinger and pinched it gently. Maggie closed her eyes and swayed, her fingers tightening on his erection. It was enough to make James forget the situation and pull her into his arms. Catching her by the bottom, he pulled her forward, grinding himself against her.
If it weren’t for a knock at the door right then, James very well might have taken her again—standing right there. But the knock made them draw apart.
“Yes?” James snapped as Maggie turned away to don her waistcoat. She began fastening the buttons to hide her torn top.
The door opened, and Meeks warily poked his head inside the room, relief on his face when he saw they were both dressed and behaving. “Lady Barlow asked that I tell you Lady Margaret’s bath is ready, and that she would like to see you in the salon at once, my lord.”
“Very well, Meeks. Tell her I shall be right there.”
Nodding, the butler pulled the door closed, leaving him and Maggie alone again.
“I had best go above stairs,” she murmured, moving to the door. James followed her, his eyebrows rising when she paused with her hand on the doorknob. Staring down at the floor, she asked, “Have you considered that you might find someone else you would rather marry? That if you marry me, you may come to regret it?”
“There is no one I would rather marry,” James assured her with a smile.
She twitched impatiently, then said, “But what if you find someone you could truly love? What if—”
“Love?” James interrupted with a frown. “True love is a fairy tale for children, Maggie. We have friendship and mutual desire, which is the best anyone can realistically expect in a marriage. Actually, ’tis more than most people get. Do not trouble yourself about such nonsense. We will be married. We will get on famously. Now go take your bath.”
Shoulders slumping, she opened the door and stepped out of the library. James watched her go with a frown. The woman looked terribly unhappy as she ascended the stairs to find her room and the waiting bath. He had to admit, it wasn’t very flattering that the idea of marriage to him should be so unattractive to her.
Chapter Sixteen
Maggie chose the chair in the corner of the library. Cast in shadow, and out of immediate sight of the door, it looked to be a good place to curl up and hide a bit from the madness presently taking over Lady Barlow’s home.
It had been a week since she and James had been caught with their drawers down . . . literally.
“Only you, Maggie.” She whispered the familiar refrain to herself with a grimace, but had to admit she deserved it. She’d always gotten herself into trouble, and now she’d finally managed to get herself compromised and forced into marriage. She sighed dismally. The last seven days had felt like years. They had been filled with a whirl of fittings and planning: fitting the bridal gown, planning the rushed wedding.
The union was to take place in another two weeks. Lady Barlow had decided on the date. The woman was terribly concerned that their tryst in her library might bear fruit, so she said, and she insisted there be no scandal around the birth of any grand-niece or -nephew. As for the whispers such a rushed wedding would cause, those would die down quickly enough once the vows were said and done. They would be long forgotten by the baby’s birth—if there was a baby.
It rankled Maggie that all of this was to protect a child that might not even exist. Well, she supposed, she was being unfair. They were also trying to salvage what they considered to be her endangered reputation. Yet Maggie wasn’t as concerned with that as perhaps she should have been. After all, with Frances out of her life, she really hadn’t had any prospects. Besides, it was not as if she went anywhere that she might be humiliated by overhearing the titters that being caught in flagrante delicto might cause.
Or, at least, she hadn’t previous to this engagement. She thought with irritation about the last week since Lady Barlow and James had decided that he and Maggie should marry. She had found herself being dragged to ball after ball, party after party, as well as various operas
and plays. Basically, they went anywhere they might be seen. Lady Barlow had said that it was to show that they had nothing to be ashamed of, as well as to allow the ton to see that she was now under her soon-to-be husband’s protection. She would soon be Lady Ramsey.
Maggie’s face puckered with annoyance. She could hardly believe that, in the space of such a short time, her life had been turned completely upside down. Everything was changing. Even her relationship with James was different than it had been before. For one thing, whereas he had often visited her and his aunt, spent hours talking, laughing, and playing cards with her before their engagement, since that fateful day they were caught in the library, she hardly saw him at all. She’d had only one chance even to talk to the man since that night, and it had not been about anything she herself had wanted to discuss.
He had started the talk by “requesting” that she discontinue her employment with the Daily Express. In fact, he had asked her to write a letter to Mr. Hartwick, informing him that G. W. Clark was retiring and would no longer be available to provide articles. He had then seen to it that Banks delivered the missive. When the butler returned with a rather alarmed note asking for an explanation, begging G. W. to reconsider, James had overseen her apologetic refusal to do either. The odious man had refrained from actually giving orders, but his requests had been little else. Was such the lot of a wife? she wondered miserably.
On the bright side, while they waited for Banks to return from his chore, James had mentioned that her servants would, of course, be incorporated into their household. He had told her that they would be her own private servants, that they would always have a home with them. In fact, he’d intended to move most of them into his town house right away, but Lady Barlow had argued against it. As they were Maggie’s own private servants, the matron felt they should remain with their mistress, where they could assist with all the chores necessary for the wedding celebration. Aunt Vivian had told her privately that she knew Maggie’s staff were like family to her, and thought she might enjoy the support until the wedding. Maggie was terribly grateful for that thoughtfulness. It comforted her to have Banks and Mary and the others nearby, and made her feel more at home.
The next subject he had brought up had been the town house of Gerald’s. The repairs were nearly finished, he’d informed Maggie, causing a flash of guilt in her for not wondering about the matter herself. He had then suggested she sell the house and invest the proceeds in her own name, assuring her that he intended to leave her the freedom of those funds.
Which was very considerate, really. Maggie supposed she should be happy, or at least content. She knew very well that few women were as fortunate in their marriages as it appeared she was to be. But . . . But . . .
Maggie sighed miserably. She knew she had a lot to be grateful for, but, greedy woman that she was, she wanted more. She wanted a husband who would love and cherish her. She wanted James to love and cherish her. She made a face at such foolishness, wondering why the fact that he didn’t bothered her so much. After all, it was not as if she loved him, was it? The very question made her tremble where she sat. Did she love him? Dear God, surely she hadn’t been so foolish as to fall in love with the man?
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Maggie tried to consider the matter sensibly. She did like him. She would admit to that. Even when he was being bossy and overbearing, as he’d been when he kidnapped her, he had acted with the best of intentions and had not been unkind. Then, too, while having her in his power and thinking her a fallen woman, he had not taken advantage of the situation by using her to slake his desires. Well . . . there was that time in the Ramsey library, but that had hardly been “using” her. Maggie herself had actually initiated that kiss when James had hesitated. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that she had seduced him.
That thought gave her pause. Maggie had never really thought of herself as a seductress, but she had pressed that first kiss to his lips and set off that whole heated first exchange. Aye, she had seduced him. And wasn’t that an interesting turn of events? She had seduced him. Aren’t I a wicked girl? she thought with delight, finding the idea terribly encouraging—in an odd way. If she could seduce James, perhaps there was the possibility that she could make him love her, too.
She was still pondering that when the library door opened, drawing her reluctant attention. James stepped inside and glanced around, and her heart tripped with surprise. She had seen very little of him since the night of their downfall. Lady Barlow, she suspected, was doing her best to keep them apart until they were safely married. Where before James had visited often and long, she’d hardly had a glimpse of him these last few days.
The day he had made her retire G. W. Clark was the only real time they had spent together, and that had been with Lady Barlow present the whole time, negating any possibility of a serious or intimate conversation. Seeing him here now, and without his aunt on his heels, was something of a surprise. Enough of a surprise that Maggie must have made a startled sound or movement, for he glanced her way, his eyes settling warmly upon her.
“There you are.” Pushing the door closed, he crossed the room and caught her hand to draw her to her feet. Then he said, “Surely you have a welcoming kiss for the man soon to be your husband?” He didn’t leave her time to answer, but instead lowered his head to cover her mouth with his.
It truly was little more than a welcoming kiss, though, a quick brush of his lips over hers, and Maggie felt disappointment rise within her as he started to pull away. She didn’t pause to consider why she was disappointed, or admit that she enjoyed his kisses greatly and hungered for more of them, had hungered for them since their first one; she merely reminded herself that she was a seductress. Wasn’t she? Hadn’t she seduced James in the country—even if unintentionally? Couldn’t she do so again?
Eager to test this new side of herself while she still had the courage, Maggie caught the back of James’s head with one hand as he tried to pull away. Drawing him back to her, she again pressed her lips over his. James stiffened in surprise as Maggie brushed her mouth over his. Then, when she opened her mouth and ran her tongue along the seam of his closed lips, requesting entrance, he opened at once and the stiffness left him. He took over.
The stiffness in most of his body was gone, she amended with secret glee. The part of him pressing against her belly, however, grew noticeably stiffer, apparently excited by her aggression. He responded in kind.
When she broke the kiss to nip gently at his chin, then trailed little kisses along James’s jaw to his ear, as he had done to her, her name slipped from his lips and his arms tightened around her. A moment later, his hands dropped to cup her bottom through her skirts. Maggie reciprocated by clasping his behind, then slid one hand between them and cupped his crotch.
“God, Maggie,” he said under his breath, thrusting into her touch. He shook his head as if to clear it. “What are you doing? My sis—”
Maggie silenced him with another kiss, this one deep and passionate. She quickly undid the buttons of the front flap of his breeches, then slid her hand swiftly inside. She found and fondled his erection. He grew farther in her hand, bulging, throbbing, harder. Much to Maggie’s surprise, her own excitement grew. She felt in control. Powerful. And she felt herself grow damp with arousal.
Recalling what he had done to her on two occasions now, she ended their kiss and dropped to her knees before him. Finding, licking, and pressing kisses along the length of his shaft, she began an effort to please him as he had done to her. She was kissing the tip of him when James unexpectedly thrust forward. Maggie started to pull back, her mouth opening in surprise, and found herself with a mouthful. The groan it elicited from him made her hesitate; then she drew her head back slightly, her teeth gently grazing the head of his member before she slid her lips forward again, taking in as much of the shaft as she could while she held its base.
The action appeared to have an electrifying effect. James bucked, the words “Maggie, oh, God!” torn
from him in tortured gasps. Maggie managed the action two more times before he grasped her upper arms and dragged her back to her feet.
“Did I do something wrong?” she whispered in alarm. James shook his head violently, and she straightened before him.
“No. God, no,” he muttered. “It is just that if you do not stop, I . . . I have been dreaming about you all week and I . . .” Giving up his explanation, he peered about, then steered her behind the chair in which she had been sitting. Pausing there, he claimed her lips with something close to desperation.
Maggie kissed him back just as passionately. This time, when she felt the brush of air making its way up her legs, she didn’t need to look down to know he was tugging her skirts up. The image she’d seen at Ramsey of James’s dark hand against her pale flesh immediately rose in her mind, and she moaned into his mouth in anticipation, then bit his lower lip lightly in excitement. His hand slid between her thighs to work its magic.
Maggie was so wrapped up in what he was doing, it took her by surprise when his other hand reached down to stop hers as she tried to touch him again. Pulling it away at the same time as he broke their kiss, he grasped her by the waist and turned her to face the back of the chair in which she’d earlier sat. He then urged her to bend forward.
Lifting her skirts, he slid into her from behind. Maggie gasped in surprise. Eyes wide, she held her breath as he filled her, then let that breath out on a long, loud moan. One of his hands moved to cup her breast through her gown, and the other slid under the front of her upraised skirts. It found the center of her pleasure and continued caressing. Her moan turned into little mewls of pleasure and pleading as he began to slide in and out of her, his fingers moving in time with his thrusts.
Digging her fingernails into the upholstery of the chair over which she was bent, Maggie cried out; her body was beginning to shudder and shake. Pleasure exploded through her. She heard James cry out, too. After one last thrust, her body throbbing around him, he collapsed on her back with a groan.