Candice Hern (12 page)

“You seemed pleased enough when I stripped off my stocking for you.”

“Pure showmanship. And I suspect it is the first time you have ever done anything so wicked in your life. Instead, you stay in your own little world, coiled up like a hedgehog, afraid to allow anyone too close. Except, of course, Prudence. And now Flora.”

“I am not allowed to have women friends?”

“I would not be surprised to learn there is more
than simple friendship between you and Prudence.”

“Indeed?”

“At the very least, you spend more time with her than going out into Society to meet and mingle with gentlemen.”

“And all this means that I cannot possibly know how to please a man?”

“You’ve been a spinster for almost thirty years, my dear. If you ever knew, I suspect you have forgotten.”

“Would you like to bet on it?”

His eyes widened with interest. “A wager?”

“Yes, another wager. That seems to be the only way we can make a point with each other. I will wager you that I
do
know how to please a man.”

His splendid gray-blue gaze slid over her like a caress. She considered for a moment that she had made a terrible mistake.

“You intrigue me, madam. And might I assume that you have some specific stakes in mind?”

“I do, actually.”

“Tell me.”

“Now that we have secured Mr. Railsbeck to draw our fashion prints—for no additional cost to you, I might add—it is important that we have the best engraver to bring them to life. I should like to hire Benjamin Jarvis. He is the best there is, but he is expensive. Uncle Victor would never allow us to use him. If I win the wager, I want your approval for the extra cost to hire Jarvis, for the fashion
prints and any other prints we decide to publish.”

“It’s always the
Cabinet
with you, isn’t it? All right, then. You may have your Mr. Jarvis,
if
you can prove that you do know how to please a man.” His gaze narrowed. “But how will you prove it?”

“I will demonstrate, sir. On you.”

S
he slowly rose from her chair and came to stand in front of him. Tony could have told her she had won already. He would not do so, of course. He had pushed and teased in hopes of an actual demonstration such as was apparently about to take place. But the fact that she put a wager on it gave him an even bigger thrill.

He shifted his position to relieve the tightening in his groin.

“Don’t move,” she said.

She stood close enough that the full white muslin skirts of her dress brushed against his knees. She stretched like a cat, lifting her arms and placing her hands behind her head. Her arched back pulled the fabric of her bodice tight against her breasts.

He had always admired the elegant grace of her movements. But he had never seen her move like this.

Tony swallowed hard. His neckcloth suddenly felt too tight and he reached up to adjust it.

After a moment, thinking she was simply posing, he realized she was unpinning her hair. The complicated arrangement of coils and plaits soon fell loose, accompanied by the pinging of dozens of hairpins dropping to the floor. She brought the mass of tangled black locks over her shoulders and began to comb her fingers through them, starting at the scalp and slowly pulling through the length to the ends—over and over, until the tangles were out and the plaits undone, and soft black waves almost covered her face. Then she dropped her head back and shook her hair so that it floated about her like a dark cloud.

Tony’s breath had become shallow.

Edwina moved closer so that their knees touched. She nudged his legs apart and moved between them. When she looked down she could surely see the signs of his arousal. She looked into his eyes with a knowing smile. She had won, and she knew it. She could stop now.

But she did not.

She wriggled closer and lifted one knee onto the settee, between his. She lowered herself in such a way that he was forced to shift sideways. Finally, he was practically prone, with one leg stretched out
along the back of the settee, one foot still on the floor. His head rested on a loose cushion placed against the settee’s carved wooden arm. Edwina sat between his legs.

“Now, Anthony,” she crooned, her voice never huskier, “let me see what I can do to make you more comfortable.”

It was the first time she’d called him Anthony. But he couldn’t think about that right now. He couldn’t think about anything right now.

She began to work on his coat. It was double-breasted, so she first unbuttoned the right side, then the left, and then slid her hands underneath and pulled it open. She placed her hands flat against his waistcoat and looked into his eyes. Hers were heavy-lidded and dark as night, pulling him like a mesmerist to tumble into their depths.

She leaned over and brushed her lips against his, her breasts rubbing against his chest. Tony could bear it no longer and brought his arms up to enfold her, but she pulled back.

“No, Anthony. I need no help from you. Lie back and allow
me
to please
you
. Relax.”

He dropped his hands and tried to relax, but it was difficult, when every nerve was twitching with desire.

She slid her hands up over his waistcoat, and her deft fingers began to undo the neckcloth Brinkley had tied to perfection earlier that morning. She loosened the knot, and Tony lifted his head slightly
so she could unwrap the length of it. When it hung lose over his shoulders, she took the ends and tied them behind her neck. As she pulled tighter she was forced closer and closer until her nose brushed his. He arched up to kiss her, but she turned aside and simply rubbed her soft cheek against his and nuzzled his ear. Her tongue flicked at the lobe, then took it in her teeth and tugged gently.

The room had grown uncomfortably warm.

With a quick twist of her hand, she pulled away the neckcloth and flung it aside. The buttons of his waistcoat were next. One by one they came undone, and again her hands slid beneath and pushed aside the fabric. Her palms rested flat on his chest and he could feel the warmth of them beneath the thin lawn of his shirt. She next unhooked the single button under the collar and exposed the top of his chest. He gave a sharp intake of breath when she traced a slow finger from his chin, down his throat, and as far as the opening would allow. When she bent to kiss the bare skin of his chest, he could not stifle a soft moan.

Edwina sat back and gazed at him with a look worthy of the most skillful courtesan. Without taking her eyes from his, she reached up and unhooked a brooch at the center of her bodice and dropped it to the floor. The fichu it had held now hung loose. She took one end of it and slowly pulled. It came away to reveal a beautiful expanse of white bosom.

He had somehow forgotten how to breathe.

She leaned forward so that the smooth skin of her bosom was pressed against the bare skin of his chest. He closed his eyes and it was as if they were naked together. It was almost unbearable. She began to kiss his neck and he dropped his head back to allow it. She traced a path with her tongue all the way to the middle of his chest. As she was bent over him, his arms instinctively came around her.

Again, she pulled away. “Anthony, Anthony. You know you are not to help. Put your hands behind your head and close your eyes.”

He did as she asked. She began kissing his neck once again, but this time her hands reached up for his. She brushed something against them. Something soft. He thought it must have been the fichu because he felt the lace along its edge. She dragged it along his fingers and over the sensitive skin of the underside of his wrists.

She wriggled up and up until her glorious bosom almost covered his face. He rubbed his cheek against the soft mounds and nuzzled the creamy flesh with his nose. He began to plant a kiss in the valley of her cleavage, when suddenly the fichu was pulled tight over his wrists and his eyes flew open.

She had tied his hands to the arm of the settee!

He had known Edwina was a woman who liked to be in charge, but he’d never expected this.

“Now you will not be tempted to help,” she said. “Are you hungry, Anthony? No, don’t speak.” She
placed a finger over his lips. “Of course you are hungry.”

Edwina got up from the settee, leaving him bound and bereft, but returned with a cream cake in her hand. She sat beside him again, nudging her hip against his very obvious arousal. A trickle of perspiration ran down his temple and over his jaw.

She took a bite of cake, savored it audibly, and allowed a bit of cream to remain on her upper lip. Her tongue came out and slowly curled up to remove the spot of cream, then it darted to the corners of her mouth to flick away bits of crumb, and finally licked her lips in a long, slow circle.

His heart beat wildly in his chest. His ears rang with its thumping.

She dipped her finger in the cake and came away with a dollop of thick cream. She brought the finger to his lips and allowed him the exquisite bliss of licking away the cream. When she didn’t take her finger away, he took it into his mouth, circled it with his tongue, and sucked. Edwina’s eyes closed and she made a tiny sound of pleasure that was more erotic, more arousing than anything she had yet done.

She pulled the finger from his mouth and transferred it to her own, sucking on it while gazing into his eyes. She leaned forward so that her face was inches from his own. At last, he thought, she is going to kiss me. But she did not. She turned her head so that her long hair fell over his face. It was thick
and soft and smelled of carnations. She brushed it back and forth over his face and neck and chest. Dear God!

When she began to trail kisses along his collarbone, he started to squirm, pressing himself against her in a slow grind. He was on fire for her. She slowly, slowly worked her way up his throat and chin and finally—finally!—her lips hovered over his. He lifted his mouth to hers, but she backed away slightly.

“Anthony.”

He could feel her lips shape his name. Only a breath separated them.

“Anthony.”

The deep, husky purr of his name on her lips, the soft breasts crushed against his bare chest, the cloud of sweet-smelling hair all combined in a sensation of pure erotic desire that left him senseless and panting.

“Anthony.” She spoke against his mouth, lips touching but not yet kissing. “Have I pleased you?”

“Oh God, yes.”

He lifted his mouth to cover hers, and she was gone. She rolled away, stood up, and shook out her skirts.

“Good,” she said. “I win.”

Edwina retrieved her fichu—it wasn’t tied that tight; he could have broken free at any time—and bent to pick up her brooch. She grabbed a few hair
pins that had landed in the vicinity, and walked to the tea table. The fichu was quickly pinned back in place, but she decided there was nothing to be done about her hair. So she poured herself another cup of tea and returned to the chair she had occupied earlier. She took a long restorative swallow and looked over the rim of the cup to see that Anthony had not stirred.

“Well, sir. Do I get my engraver?”

He gave a great noisy sigh and sat up. His shirt still gaped open to reveal the muscular planes of his golden chest.

“Madam, you may have anything you want. Anything at all.”

She smiled secretly and took another sip of tea. She needed it. Pulling away when she did had been an effort of sheer will. Her body had been thrumming in a way it hadn’t done for years. She had been tempted to give in and take the seduction to its limit, but that would have been a huge mistake. She had only needed to prove a point. And she had done so.

But oh! the temptation had been fierce.

Anthony began to put himself to rights. Edwina sipped her tea and watched.

“Might I hope,” she said, “that you no longer think me a dried-up old spinster?”

He looked up from buttoning his waistcoat. “My dear Edwina, after that demonstration, I am fairly
certain there is not a single part of you that has dried up. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

She was glad he returned his attention to his buttons and couldn’t see the blush that heated her cheeks. It was the shimmer of pure feminine triumph that warmed her blood.

Tony rose and went to stand before the mirror above the fireplace. His collar was still open, revealing the strong column of his neck and the smooth, honey-gold skin of his throat. The intimacy of watching him, even in only slight
déshabillé
, brought about a sudden pang of longing so strong it took her breath away. For an instant, the face in the mirror was that of another man, equally fair, equally handsome. She blinked, and the vision was gone.

Edwina took another swallow of tea and shook off the strange feeling of disorientation. She returned her attention to Anthony’s attempt to repair the damage she’d done to his pristine appearance.

He buttoned the collar of his shirt, adjusted the points, and wrapped the long neckcloth around it.

“Brinkley will give me the fisheye when he sees the mess I am about to make of this cravat.”

“I am sorry to be the cause of your valet’s displeasure.” Her lips twitched into a smile.

His eyes caught hers in the mirror. “He will get over it. As for me…well, that is a different matter altogether.”

He made a casual knot in the neckcloth, adjusted the ends, and pulled up the collar. Finally, he rebuttoned the fine bottle green coat, tugged down his waistcoat so just the perfect amount showed below the coat front, and made one final adjustment to the neckcloth. He turned to face her. His eyes twinkled with the wicked amusement she’d come to expect, but this time it was tinged with a hint of that sensual desire she’d seen earlier when she’d been pressed close against him.

“I believe it is time for me to leave,” he said. “I would hate to wear out my welcome.”

She rose to see him out. He walked up to her and reached out to touch her hair, which still hung loose about her face and down her back.

“Beautiful,” he said, and moved his hand to cup her chin. “Very beautiful. Thank you, Edwina, for allowing me to know that you are not ignorant of the joys to be shared between a man and a woman.”

She smiled. “It was my pleasure, sir.”

“Was it? I thought it was all for my pleasure. In fact, I am certain of it.” He brushed the pad of his thumb against the corner of her mouth. “Now it is my turn to please you.”

He took her face in both hands, leaned closer, and kissed her.

Dear God. She had tried to avoid this. She had known what would happen. The touch of his mouth
against hers sent intense sensations surging through her body. She had not wanted this. But, oh my…

His lips were soft and the kiss slow and gentle. Intoxicating. She instinctively moved into it, and he responded by sliding one hand down her neck, beneath her hair, and around to her nape. His lips never stopped moving, shifting, encouraging.

Her body seemed to become boneless, and suddenly her hands were on his shoulders, hanging on, clutching for an anchor. And his arms were enfolding her, pressing her tightly against him. Her lips parted, and he came inside. She twined her arms around his neck as his tongue and lips slowly deepened the kiss, sending waves of sensual excitement coursing through her veins.

Desire flooded her, filled her up, and wrested away all vestiges of control. He tightened the embrace and threaded his fingers in her loose hair. She melted against him and opened her mouth wide to his. Ripples of sensation spiraled through her as he set up a sensual dance of lips and tongue.

He brought the kiss to an end as gently as it had begun. Both hands were buried in her hair when he pulled back and gazed deeply into her eyes.

“Ah, yes,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “That is the look I want to see in a woman’s eyes when I kiss her.” He cradled her head in his hands and she was lost in the silvery depths of his gaze. “The last time I kissed you, there was only laughter in your eyes. I
must have made a better job of it this time.”

Edwina had no words to reply. He had stolen all her wits with that kiss. He smiled, drew a thumb along her jaw, and released her from his embrace. She grabbed the edge of the tea table behind her for support.