Awaiting the Moon (35 page)

“Nikolas,” the old woman said, urgency in her tone. She reached out and touched his face with her crooked, stubby fingers. “You must not give up every hope of a normal life for yourself, for the sake of taking care of your family. You deserve a family of your own, and—”

He stood and said, “No more interference, aunt. I will do what I see fit.”

“Stubborn. You will never listen to me!”

“Reflect but a little and you will understand my choices.”

Miraculously, the next couple of nights were quiet. Gerta was passive through much of the night, only occasionally evincing a need to go out. This was restrained by constant vigilance, a necessity he was grateful for, as it left him little time to commune with Elizabeth.

But inevitably the full moon passed.

He visited the drawing room after dinner as the waning moon glowed pale and weak over the snowy landscape. With the enormous crimson curtains drawn and the fires burning merrily, the drawing room had a cozy and homely look for which his weary mind and body were starved.

Adele was playing chess with Maximillian; with Gerta still too weak to join them, she was the proud possessor of his company and glowed, if such a harsh, austere woman could ever be said to glow. Christoph, looking happier than he had for a while, played the piano with Melisande, while Charlotte looked on, her expression a trifle melancholy but not depressed.

Elizabeth, in an emerald gown he had never seen her wear, was by the fire reading.

“Is the book satisfying?” he asked, leaning down and whispering into her ear. He took the chair opposite her and drank in her beauty.

“It is.” She had stiffened and offered him not one smile.

“Have I… offended you?” he asked. He wondered if his troubled family life was finally taking its toll on her.

“No, of course not,” she said, reaching out her hand and then hastily drawing it back as she glanced around the room.

He understood the impulse. With the growing closeness he felt for her, it was difficult to restrain the urge to touch her hand or her arm, to murmur an endearment, to offer a caress. He touched her hand briefly and said, “Would you… would you come to my room tonight?”

“Only if you will talk to me.”

“Instead of other things?” he said, gently jesting.

Her lip quivered and she looked away. Damn, but he wanted to cradle her in his arms and kiss her! He wanted to tell her that she deserved more than him, deserved better, and that there were a thousand men who merited her affection more than he… but not one who needed it more. And if he was to be fair to her, he could tell her none of that. Nothing that was in his heart. It would only hurt her when their association inevitably came to an end.

“As… as well as other things,” she said, her tone breathy. The pulse in her neck quickened.

He carefully controlled his own breathing, for her intimation was that that night, they would again engage in love play and he had plans for her. “Come to me after midnight,” he said,

“and we will talk… and other things.”

BATTLING her doubts, trying to decide how to confront him about his reluctance to admit any feeling for her beyond desire, Elizabeth fled through the secret passages, her heart thumping like a military tattoo.

As she eased herself into his room and saw him standing bare-chested by the fire, his head down, his profile lit by the glow, she again felt the suffocating wave of tenderness mingled with despair. She knew now that it wasn’t the same as it was with John. Her feelings for that fellow had been driven by loneliness and lack of respect for herself and her autonomy. The love she held for Nikolas was for his innate worth, his decency, and the heart beneath his breast, a heart devoted to the care of his family. Sure now of her own strength, she respected his and loved him deeply.

Would there ever be any room in his heart and life for her?

She ran to him and flung herself into his arms and he lifted her from her feet, carried her to the bed, and kissed her, covering her with his body. Her heart sang out with love and joy as he covered her mouth and kissed her tenderly. They lay together on the bed and twined themselves in each others’ arms.

“Nikolas,” she said, gazing at him.

“Mhmm?”

“Your aunt told me that once, long ago when you were traveling, you wrote to your brother that you intended to marry. Whatever became of that girl?”

He grimaced. “I was so young, Elizabeth! Young and green. It was while I was in Italy. I had just gone there; Cesare was with me. I met him at university and engaged him as a tutor and traveling companion, for he is very knowledgeable about the world. She was… a woman I met there, in Italy.”

“That tells me nothing,” she said, hoping to pry from him why he was once ready for marriage but now considered it impossible.

He stared at the ceiling and sighed. “Why must women always know about their predecessors?”

She was silent. It hurt to imagine him ready for marriage to someone else, when he would not, or could not, offer her the same. Resting her head on his chest, she stared up at his chin and throat, the pulsing throb at the base strong and steady.

He sighed and glanced down at her. “You want to know, don’t you?” When she nodded, he sighed again and said, “She was very beautiful and much older than I. I was nineteen. I believe she was thirty-five or -six. Though I didn’t know it at the time, she was a courtesan.”

“How could you not know that?”

“As I say, I was young. And she never treated me like a patron. She never asked me for jewels or teased me to pay her accounts. She just… just taught me much about women.”

“Oh. But you wanted to marry her.”

“I
thought
I did, Elizabeth.” He rubbed a strand of her hair between his fingers and gazed into her eyes, his own a softer gray then she had ever seen. “It would have been a terrible mistake, for I was so young. It was like you with your fellow; I didn’t know enough to know it would never do. There was never any risk, though. I did ask her, but she only laughed at me.”

“Is… is that why you have vowed not to marry?”

“What? No. Lord, no, Elizabeth. Do not bring that subject up, if you please.”

He kissed her again to soften the words and they lay for some time, kissing, as their breath mingled. He undid her robe and tossed it aside and peeled the neckline of her nightrail back, raining soft kisses over her breasts as her nipples hardened under his expert handling.

“Nikolas!” she gasped, clutching his muscular shoulders, trying to resist his seductive power.

“Yes, Liebchen?” He continued to lavish attention on her.

“I… I wanted to talk,” she moaned.

“And so we have, and so we will again. But not this moment.”

He pulled her on top of him and she felt his hands snake up under her nightrail to caress her bare bottom.

“Nik… oh, Nik!”

“Do you trust me Elizabeth?” he whispered, still caressing her naked bottom and cradling her over his bulging erection until she thought she would scream with desire.

“Yes, Nik, oh, yes, I trust you.” Perhaps now, she thought, surrendering to the blissful hope she had not even dared to entertain. Perhaps now he would make love to her completely, fulfilling needs and desires that had been building inside of her for weeks. The sweet release he always gave her was wonderful, but to be thoroughly satisfied she would need him inside of her.

“Then lay back on the bed… and trust me.”

Breathless, she slipped off of him and lay back and waited. He got up, and her bare legs became chilled as he left her for a long few minutes. “What are you doing, Nik?” she called out, wondering if he was disrobing.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

She obeyed, shivering with excitement mixed with fear. He lifted her and pulled her to the edge of the bed, so her legs dangled over. What would she feel next? Would he introduce it to her slowly? Would he give her time to become accustomed to it? But the sensation, when it came, was not what she expected. He parted her legs, and then warm water trickled down her thighs; his big hand began to caress her with soapy foam. “Nik!” she said on a gasp, “what are you doing?” She struggled to see.

“Stop! Do not move even the tiniest bit, my sweet.”

Cold steel. And it scraped away at the hair between her legs. Mortified but resisting the urge to wriggle, she cried out, “What are you doing?”

He chuckled, a wicked, enticing sound that made her shiver with yearning. “You will see. It is a trick that lady of my acquaintance—the one we just spoke of, when I was but a callow and inexperienced youth—taught me. I learned much later, after she had regretfully sent me away, that she would ask select men to do this for her, and then she would allow them unexpected pleasures after, as you will allow me when I am done.”

Swallowing back a quick and biting retort on knowledgeable courtesans, she stayed patient and still, her legs spread trustingly for him, afraid of what would happen if she didn’t.

Mortified as she was by how she must appear before him, her legs spread, her womanhood laid out for his view, she still found it intolerably exciting. She hoped it was as arousing to him as it was to her. Protecting her most delicate parts with his thick finger, he patiently scraped away every bit of hair, but at last he stopped and then patiently bathed her in fresh, warm water, his fingers fondling her, tickling her as he dabbed with a towel. Was he done at last? What next?

But then an unutterably delicious sensation filled her as a warm and probing entity caressed her most sensitive spot, tickling and then thrusting until she writhed with a fierce and dizzying need. His tongue! She gasped and cried out; it was hot and devouring, and her clean-shaven pubis was sensitive to the wet delight of being licked and suckled and finally entered by his tongue.

She gripped his hair and almost screamed, pleasure coursing through her body as she was flooded by the familiar euphoria multiplied many times over. He thickened his tongue, then softened it and lapped, then teased with the tip. She released his hair and stretched back full length, surrendering to sensation, shuddering as wave after wave ripped through her. As the waves receded and she became aware again, she felt his fingers touching her legs and bottom, his caressing fingers tickling the sensitive nubs of her nipples.

Weak and quivering as he slid up to her and she felt the pulse of his erection against her bare leg, she knew she could wait no longer. She gave him one long, wet kiss on his mouth, then boneless, lithe with sensuous delight, she slid down off the bed and knelt before him between his knees; he was fully naked and she kissed him tentatively, the unexpected velvety texture of his thick shaft surprising her with its eroticism. She felt his whole body go rigid, and he cried out. “No! Elizabeth, no.” But she would not be denied. She might not know What to do, as he clearly did, but she would do what she wanted and see what happened.

She laved him with her tongue. He tried to sit, but she pushed him back. “Nik, please,” she whispered. “Let me.”

He calmed, though his whole body quivered, and she inhaled his musky scent, touching the shaft, feeling the thickness of it with her hand and then sliding her tongue all the way from the nest of curls from which it sprang down to the end, finally taking the knob in her mouth as he thickened more, pearly droplets oozing from him in his excited state. She could feel a pulse in his engorged member and experienced a joyous sense of command over this powerful man as he lay quiescent and trembling under her ministrations, moaning her name and crying out endearments, drifting into hoarse and guttural German, using words she could not understand but fully comprehended.

She knelt before him and stroked him with her mouth, letting her hands run up under his bottom, feeling his muscles tense and relax as he struggled, holding back his inevitable release. Surrendering, as she knew he must, she was finally able to taste him, at least, if she could not have his length inside of her completely. His release was swift and wild, and he growled and howled with fearsome delight as she inexpertly licked and sucked and teased, doing what she hoped was right.

Later, in the dark, after tender ministrations on her part with a damp cloth and a bowl of water, she timidly asked if she had done things correctly. He chuckled hoarsely as he stretched his naked body across his big bed like a great, happy cat.

“I do not think any woman could do that particular thing badly, but I must say, your adorable enthusiasm more than made up for your inexpert handling.” He kissed her then, and as they twined together, naked at last under the covers, she felt his member, slumberous and thick, against her bare leg.

“I have so wanted to give you… release.”

He sighed. “I hope, Elizabeth, that you did not just feel some weight of obligation; I have never wanted you to feel some debt to me.”

“No,” she whispered. “It never felt like a debt. But when you… care for someone,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “you wish to give them pleasure.”

“You did do that. I do not think I have ever felt such… such exquisite passion in my entire life. I have no words to explain my feelings.”

“You don’t need to explain it. I’m so happy,” she murmured. “Nik, I lo—” She stopped abruptly, fighting the urge to tell him her deepest feelings. Telling him now would change everything, and she did not want his memory of the tenderness of that night to be altered by a confession of love. Inevitably he would feel he was expected to reciprocate, and she wanted him, for once, to be able to have pleasure with no burden of expectation of return on his shoulders.

“Mmm?” he murmured. He kissed her neck, sleepily.

“I loved doing that. It… it pleased me, too, deeply.”

He kissed her down to her breasts and fell asleep with his head cradled there, her fingers threaded through his thick hair.

HIS VERY blood sang with joy in his veins through his morning duties and paperwork. He could not concentrate on anything, it seemed, and yet he felt more relaxed than he had in months. Though she had crept from his room before dawn, he had seen her at the breakfast table, and she had blushed as he stared at her, watching her lick honey from the corner of her mouth, ravenous for every last second of seeing her.