She felt beautiful then, and not merely for the quirk of nature that had given her a face and figure that made men lust for her. She felt beautiful because she was happy, because this man made her happy and she was the person she wanted to be when she was with him.
Gwenn reached for the towel and covered herself, stepping from the tub and watching him in silence.
“Let me see,” he begged. “I want to see.”
She moved closer to him, taking her time, and allowing the towel to fall a little farther with each step until she was right in front of him and it tumbled to the floor.
“Tell me,” he said, staring up at her, stroking himself as his eyes roved over her body. “Tell me where my mouth was.”
Gwenn gave a soft laugh and trailed her right hand between her breasts, her fingers drawing a sinuous path down across her belly until she reached the little thatch of curls between her thighs.
“Oh, yes,” he breathed rather than spoke the words. “Please say it.”
“Here,” she said.
He reached for her, his hands grasping her hips as he leaned in and pressed his mouth against the curls. His tongue traced the seam of her sex and Gwenn gasped, trembling at the sensation of his sleek tongue touching her so intimately. She reached out, grasping his hair, as much to keep herself upright as to keep him from moving, watching the thick red strands cover her fingers and glint like garnets in the candlelight.
Sampson moaned against her skin, parting the soft curls and sucking gently on her private flesh until she cried out and her knees buckled. He steadied her, looking up with laughter glinting in his eyes.
“I have you, love,” he said, and the truth of that was undeniable. He had her, body, heart, and soul, with no escape.
“I can’t… can’t stand any longer,” she said, dazed now and grasping the bedframe to keep herself upright.
She heard a low chuckle and then watched with amusement as he shed his boots and the rest of his clothes with frantic impatience. He got to his feet then and swung her up into his arms as she gasped and clung to his neck.
“I hope you don’t think you’re finished,” she said, the words tart, though she was struggling not to laugh.
“Indeed not,” he replied, with the utmost gravity. “As if I would leave a job half done?”
“That’s all right, then.” She sighed as he placed her on the bed.
For a moment he just stood, staring down at her, and Gwenn let her thighs part in open invitation. He grinned, a look of such wicked delight her heart skipped with happiness, desire, and all the wonderful things she could not think about losing, not now, for it would destroy her.
He climbed onto the bed, moving over her and leaning down to nuzzle the tender skin below her ear, kissing a path down her neck to her breasts, where he lingered.
“So lovely,” he murmured against her skin, trailing a damp path around one nipple with his tongue before taking it in his mouth and suckling. Gwenn cried out as the sensation tugged elsewhere and the insistent throbbing began again, so demanding it was impossible to think past her need.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Please….”
He took pity on her and continued his exploration, while his hands cupped and squeezed and stroked and she thought she would lose her mind if he didn’t return his mouth to where she needed him. Finally he did, the heat of his tongue gliding over her, having worked her to such a pitch by now she shattered at the first touch upon her sex, crying out and clutching at his hair as pleasure rippled through her, so intense she was still dazed by it long after the climax had subsided.
Gwenn fought to draw a shaky breath, a little stunned. It was hardly her first orgasm. Her body would be her fortune and knowing how to please herself every bit as important as how to please a man. The difference between finding one’s own pleasure however and… and this…. Good heavens! There was no comparison.
She forced her eyes open, blinking as his intense blue gaze fell upon her, looking impossibly smug. Gwenn gave a rather unladylike snort of laughter, but then she wasn’t a lady, as she’d just proved by dallying with a man who was not and would never be her husband.
Don’t think of it, she told herself. Not now.
“My, don’t you look pleased with yourself,” she said, reaching for him.
Sampson settled beside her, pulling her into his arms. “I should say I do. I’m the cat that got the canary, and the cream, and it was sweet indeed.”
He buried his face in her neck and nibbled at her ear and Gwenn giggled and squirmed. She sighed as he raised his head again, staring down at her, emotions alight in his eyes that she didn’t dare guess at, for fear she would read too much into them.
“You’re wonderful,” he said, sounding as though—in this moment, at least—he truly meant it.
“As are you, my lord,” she said, striving to keep things light, afraid of betraying what this meant to her.
He frowned, his eyes troubled.
“Sampson,” he corrected and kissed her, slowly and with such tenderness that she wanted to believe this wasn’t just a dalliance, that perhaps the memory of her would linger in his mind once she was gone.
Her memories would be filled with him, she knew that much and refused to regret it. Marie had survived betrayal, she’d had her heart shattered by the man she loved, a man she’d born a child for… a child he’d never seen, never acknowledged. How that must have hurt Mama, and yet how strong she was. Gwenn would be strong, too; they were made of the same stuff, after all. Perhaps she had inherited a wanton nature, but she’d inherited that resolve, the determination to not only survive but to live, and live to the full.
For the first time, Gwenn thought she understood her mother’s extravagance and her lust for money and power. Never again would a man have a hold on her. Her body and her fortune were her own, and no one would ever touch her heart again. Gwenn had tried to escape her fate, wanting something more than such a life could give her, but perhaps it was the only way for an unmarried woman to survive and keep herself intact.
Yet even as she understood she could feel nothing but sorrow, because Marie might have jewels finer than any royal princess, but Gwenn suspected her heart still belonged to the man who had broken it all those years ago.
So this was her destiny too, to follow in her mother’s footsteps, but without avoiding the dangers of which Marie had tried to warn her daughter.
Sampson’s hands were warm, his touch at once soothing and inflaming as he caressed her, drawing her closer. The heat of his body blazed against her, the combination of silky skin and hard muscle intriguing and wonderful. The coarse hair on his chest grazed her sensitive nipples, and she shivered with pleasure.
“Gwenn….” He sighed her name, pulling her hips close against him and tilting his hips so his arousal slid over her sex, making her cry out—
“Miss Wynter?”
The both froze, horrified at the muffled voice on the other side of the door.
“Christ!” Sampson muttered, surging to his feet. “I didn’t lock it.”
Panicked, Gwenn scrambled off the bed.
“J-Just a moment, darling,” she called as Sampson lunged to gather his clothes and Gwenn pulled on her dressing gown.
Her hands were shaking, and it took her several tries to do up the ties. She gestured for Sampson to move back into the far corner of the room, out of sight of the door before hurrying to open it, stepping outside and closing it behind her.
“Selina?” she said, finding a sleepy looking twin awaiting her.
“Susan,” the girl amended, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Selina can’t stop coughing and she’s keeping me awake,” she grumbled. “I was going to give her some of that cough mixture to shut her up, but I thought perhaps I ought to ask you if that was all right.”
“Oh, my goodness. No!” Gwenn cried, appalled at what might have happened if Selina had not gotten an answer at the door or, worse, if she’d tried the handle and come in. She went hot and cold,
assailed with guilt at the idea of the girl finding her in such a way with her brother. “I told Sally to take the wretched stuff away with her.”
“I think she forgot, miss.”
“Oh, Susan.” She pulled the girl into her arms, blinking back tears. “You did very well to come and ask me first and I… I’m… so sorry.”
Susan frowned up at her, a little bewildered. “S’all right,” she said, obviously perplexed. “It’s only shouting at her won’t make her stop, so I wondered if you might be able to.”
Gwenn gave an uneven laugh that threatened to turn into a sob and hustled Susan along the corridor. “Come along, then. Let me see what I can do.”
By the time Gwenn had temporarily soothed Selina with a honey and lemon sweet whilst she made her some willow bark tea and then rubbed the girl’s chest with camphor oil, Susan was fast asleep. Selina put her empty teacup aside and settled back on the pillows with a sigh.
“Do you think you can sleep now, love?” Gwenn asked.
“Yes, miss. Thank you. I’m sorry we woke you up again.”
Gwenn reached out and smoothed the girl’s hair from her head as self-loathing rose in her chest. “That’s all right, dear. That’s what I’m here for. Sweet dreams.”
She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her and stood for a long moment in the dark. The girls were so sweet and innocent. It had been a very long time since she’d known what that meant. Had she ever been that innocent, that pure? If she’d taken that away from them, sullied them by opening their eyes to the kind of woman she was… oh, God. What kind of wicked, sluttish creature was she to seduce their brother as she had? He was a good man, a loving brother trying to do his best for his family, and she….
Gwenn closed her eyes, overcome with remorse. It was a few minutes before she could find the will to return to her own room. To her relief, Sampson was gone. She couldn’t have faced him then, couldn’t have borne the shame of it. As it was, she fell into bed and prayed for sleep, though she doubted it would come any time soon. Worse, as she turned her head into the pillow, she could still smell him upon the sheets, the faint aroma of bergamot, soap, and the musky spice of a male body that filled her with longing.
“Oh, Marie,” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, what have I done?”
Chapter 15
“Wherein the snow melts but ice forms.”
“It’ll please yer lordship to know the snow’s melted.”
Sampson blinked awake to regard Mr Davies, his temporary valet. The man placed a cup of coffee on the nightstand before holding out Sampson’s dressing gown to him.
“Sun’s out, too, and it looks like it’ll be a fine day.”
Supressing a curse with difficulty, Sampson shoved his feet into his slippers and allowed Davies to help him into his dressing gown before stalking to the window. He flung back the curtains, wincing in the glare of sunlight, and saw that Davies was correct. Much of the road was already clear, and the sun was melting that which remained at quite a pace. They could go on their way.
No, damn it.
He didn’t want to leave. Not yet, certainly not while everything was so up in the air after last night. Bloody hell. There was no reason to keep them here now, though, and he didn’t doubt the staff were already preparing their departure. Yesterday had been so idyllic he’d been looking forward to another day just like it. Yet last night, when that little voice had called for Miss Wynter, he’d seen the horror in Gwenn’s eyes, and had felt it himself at the thought one of the girls walking in on them.
They must be more careful in the future.
That there would be a future was not in doubt. Not in his mind. He still did not understand what that future held. He couldn’t, until he knew what it was Gwenn was running from. All he knew was that he couldn’t turn away from her, couldn’t turn his back on her, or on the feeling in his chest which seemed to grow exponentially with each day he spent in her company. It was too late to run from it, impossible to deny it. All he could do now was accept it, and pray she would trust him enough to give him a chance to help her, to make things right and find some kind of future for them.
Perhaps he’d not be able to marry her, not without hurting the girls, but that didn’t mean he would give her up. It simply meant he couldn’t marry her yet. Not until the girls were settled, at least. Would she endure that, he wondered? Was he enough to wait for when it would likely deny her the chance of having a family of her own? It would be ten years at the very least before the girls were settled, possibly even twenty. Could she bear to be his mistress for that long?
Well, that was a question he needed to ask, but not yet. This was all too new, too fragile, and he must speak to her before they had to spend an entire day together with the girls.
“I must dress at once,” he instructed Davies, and hurried about his ablutions with speed.
***
He was too late.
Gwenn was already at breakfast with the girls when he came down.
“Good morning,” he said, smiling at them and trying to gauge Gwenn’s mood.
Perhaps he could have a few moments alone with her after breakfast.
“Morning, Sunny,” the girls chorused, though his heart clenched as he noticed Gwenn did not meet his eyes.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said, the words stiff and formal.
Hell.
“Sampson, the snow is melting, and our snowman’s nose fell off,” Susan said, taking his hand and pouting at him.
“He’s going to disappear,” Selina added with a heavy sigh. “It’s so sad.”
“Never mind, girls,” Gwenn said, her voice soft. “All good things must come to an end.”
“Nonsense,” Sampson replied sharply, his chest tight with anxiety, the words too obviously prophetic for him to ignore. “I expect it will snow again when we get to Tor Castle and, even if it doesn’t, there is plenty to look forward to. You’ll meet your new brother and his wife, and there’s Christmas and a castle to explore, and no doubt you’ll be spoiled beyond bearing. Indeed, there is nothing to be the least bit sad about, as nothing is ending today.”
The girls grinned at him, this rather emphatic statement cheering them up at least, but Gwenn still didn’t look at him.
“Eat your breakfast please, girls,” she said, keeping her own eyes on her plate. “We have packing to finish, and we must not keep the horses waiting for us. There’s still a long way to go.”
“I’m so excited to see the castle,” Susan said, her blue eyes alight with excitement. “Do you think there will be ghosts, Miss Wynter?”
“There’s no such thing as ghosts, Selina,” Gwenn said, the statement a tad sharp.
“I’m Susan.”
Gwenn stilled and then looked up and smiled at Susan. Sampson saw that the expression didn’t meet her eyes, which were heavy, as though she’d slept ill. “I do beg your pardon, Susan, but you must not worry about ghosts.”
“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Susan carried on, spearing another sausage with her fork. “I think it would be marvellous to see one.”
“So do I,” Selina chimed in.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full, Selina,” Gwenn said, though Sampson could hear a weary note to her voice that made his chest ache.
“How is your cough this morning, Selina?” he asked, desperate for Gwenn to look at him, to acknowledge him in some small way as anything other than her employer.
Gwenn’s fork clattered against her plate as she dropped it. She glared at him, such fury in her eyes his breath caught.
“How did you know I had a cough, Sunny?” Selina asked.
Sampson’s heart skipped for a moment and he covered the taut silence emanating from Gwenn by reaching for a bread roll. He could hardly tell her he’d heard her from the wrong side of Gwenn’s bedroom door.
“Oh, I think Davies mentioned it this morning,” he said, striving for an easy tone. “Valets know everything, you see.”
“Th
ey’re omnificent,” Susan said, nodding sagely.
Despite the tightness in his chest, Sampson smiled. “I think you mean omniscient,” he corrected. “But I’m not sure even the finest valet could claim that.”
“Omniscient means they know everything,” Susan told her sister, looking smug.
“Well, you’re not omniscient, ’cause you got it wrong,” Selina said, smirking.
Susan huffed.
“Have you ever been to Scotland before, Miss Wynter?” Sampson asked, fishing desperately for a way to get Gwenn to speak to him, to thaw the ice that she’d encased herself in to keep him at a distance. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you.”
“No, my lord,” she said, never taking her eyes from her breakfast.
Sampson busied himself with filling his plate, though he’d no appetite and his throat felt too tight to swallow. What if she shut him out for good? What if she’d not see him? Panic flapped in his chest like the wings of some giant bird desperate for freedom.
“Tor Castle is quite a sight,” he pressed on, aware he was babbling but needing to fill the space her withdrawal made in their previously happy party. “It’s not pretty, rather grim on the outside really, but the views are spectacular. It’s in the shadow of Ben Nevis, you see, so snow is very likely. Ross, my brother, he’s been renovating the place. It will be interesting to see what he’s accomplished since we were last there.”
His voice seemed too loud, too forcibly cheerful, and he longed to reach out and take her hand, to beg her not to do this to him.
“Ross is actually our half-brother,” Susan added, for Gwenn’s benefit. “He’s a bastard.”
“Susan!” Gwenn said, sounding more startled than shocked. “That is not a word that a young lady uses.”
“But he is,” Selina objected, cutting in. “Our father put a baby in his mama’s belly even though she didn’t want it, and he was already married so he couldn’t marry her. She killed herself once he was born. So, Captain Ross is an orphan and a bastard.”
Gwenn gasped and Sampson closed his eyes. Could this morning get any worse? He’d thought they’d not heard that story, and he felt a wash of shame for having not shielding them better. Their minds and hearts ought not be sullied by such vile stories, true or not. Gwenn had clearly not come across that particular tale of his father’s life, judging by her obvious shock. Though there were plenty more where that came from.
Melting Miss Wynter (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 17) Page 15