Debt of Honor (18 page)

“Oh…” She whimpered and raised her head to trail a few urgent kisses along his shoulder. At his rumble of approval, she felt triumphant.

“Lettie, you are a beautiful, passionate woman.” His words, as hot with desire as his gaze, poured into her ear while his hand began some magic below. “Let your passion blossom. Show me you want to be with me.”

Her hands, which had been gripping his shoulders, slid down his chest, learning and admiring, and she followed their exploration with a trail of kisses before she reached his nipple and flicked it with her tongue. Learn from the master. He made a sound in his throat that reverberated with a rush of her pulse.

“Yes,” he murmured, and she felt rather than saw his smile when his teeth grazed her shoulder. “I want you to take, not just give, because your pleasure is mine as well.”

“Only if you do the same,” she whispered, surprised at the hoarseness burning her throat.

Breathing was not such a natural thing, Letitia realized a second later when Percy’s fingers brushed over the throbbing center of her desire and moved to caress the skin on her inner thigh. Her legs fell open, inviting—no, begging for—more.

“Yes,” he repeated softly, his deep, warm voice wrapping around her. “Be my wanton lover.”

His hand moved toward that well of liquid heat that she had thought she should be embarrassed of. When he reached it, she forgot about everything else.

“I want you as my equal, Lettie,” he murmured, his lips hot on her cheek, his clever fingers finding every pleasurable nerve ending between her legs. She nearly leapt out of her skin when they unabashedly covered the mound of her sex.

“Percy…” she whimpered, half-mad with the need he was stoking, raising her hips and opening her legs even wider. “Oh, Percy, yes…”

Somehow, her hand slipped down to find the hardness that was pulsing against her thigh.

He hissed on an intake of breath.

“Lettie, do not move your hand, love.” The sound was a raspy plea, and those clever fingers exploring her body became even more intimate.

She sobbed and pushed her hips against his hand, wanting more.

He probed gently. Instinctively, she tightened her muscles around him.

“Ah, so beautiful,” he whispered, stoking even more of the fire already roaring out of control.

“Percy, please…” she moaned through the blood pounding in her head.

He kissed her deeply and moved over her, holding his weight on his forearms, spreading her legs wider with his own. His flesh brushed against hers, precipitating an explosion of sensations.

“Percy…” she begged, arching to maintain that fragile contact between them that was sending her over the edge of something quite mad.

“Yes, love,” he gritted out. “Yes, in a moment…”

His weight shifted. Letitia snapped her eyes open when he nudged at her entrance, depriving her of the most intense pleasure that had been hers just seconds earlier. His darkened gaze devoured her face. She arched her hips higher, demanding.

“Don’t stop,” she begged on a moan while his mouth twisted as if this request meant the greatest of efforts.

He shifted a little more and reached between them. His fingers found the magic spot, and at last she shattered, falling over the edge of her desperate need. The explosion sent her into spasms, leaving enough room for only vague awareness of a burning sensation moving deeper and deeper inside her.

Blood pounding in his veins, Percy gritted his teeth to stop himself from mindlessly plunging in. Letitia’s climax was a siren’s song to his starved body. And when she begged him to keep going, he was a lost man.

He pushed in, in one move, silencing her whimper of surprise with a kiss. Pinned under his weight, she turned rigid before tension began to drain from her.

“It’s done, Lettie,” he ground out, holding on to the shreds of self-control. “It won’t hurt ever again. I promise.”

She was breathing hard from her first climax. Mesmerized by her flushed face, her gaze unfocused with pleasure, he felt himself drowning in her completely. Lowering his head next to hers, he let his lips trace the contours of her face and felt her smile before she turned her head and found his lips.

“You made me forget that there should be pain,” she murmured.

“Did I?” he whispered back into her mouth, hoping he could last a little longer. “Wait,” he nearly begged when she clenched her muscles around him again.

“I want more,” she whispered.

“So do I, my darling,” he assured her, returning another kiss. “Is the pain gone?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Percy raised himself on his forearms again and began slow movements, watching her face, her concentration and fascination with the new feeling of him inside her, though it made nearly impossible suppressing the need that threatened to erupt with his every move, with her every breath. He trembled, grasping at the feeble remnants of his will that threatened to break in spite of his efforts. The sight of her radiant eyes and parted lips as she concentrated on his movements was enough to undo him without any effort. But he needed to show her what she could expect from their lovemaking.

He moved slowly at first, searching for a perfect angle until her gasps and her hands spasmodically pressing his buttocks told him he’d found it. She caught his rhythm and met his thrusts with wild abandon until they were both panting, until she arched forcefully into him, and he knew she was ready.

Elated by the sight and feel of her writhing body, driven beyond endurance by the slender feet moving over his calves, the wet heat pulling him deeper than he could go, Percy let go of all restraints and bore down on her with his full weight, stilling her and his movements until he too shattered, body and mind. Whispering her name, he sank into oblivion that shut out the entire universe except for the woman beneath him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Percy woke up in time to intercept Pergot, who was used to entering his master’s bedchamber without much ceremony in the morning.

But this morning was different.

Being a true gentleman’s gentleman, Pergot naturally showed no reaction when told to forego the daily routine and find something important to do in another part of the house. But his step seemed somehow lighter, and Percy could swear his face was split in two with a grin as he walked toward the servants’ staircase. The news would reach the kitchen in no time. Well, little could be hidden from the house staff.

He closed the door and turned to the bed.

His wife presented the most delicious image, her face rosy from sleep, the pale-golden curls in disarray like a halo on the pillow. Little wonder she was tired; the night had been short on rest.

And otherwise unforgettable.

He moved around quietly, not wanting to wake her up. The sight of Lettie sleeping in his bed was too precious to disturb. Not yet, anyway.

Letitia had a wonderful dream, but a persistent fly chose her arm for a landing spot this morning. The dream involving her and Percy began to fade away as she tried to bat the fly away, but the ornery insect would not quit. Irritated, she opened her eyes.

Percy sat on the edge of the bed with a sprig of tiny roses in one hand. He was dressed already.

“Good morning, Lady Hanbury,” he said. “How was your night? I trust you slept well.”

How was her night? She was not sure what words would describe it best. Something out of a dream, but not a dream only, Letitia decided, taking in her surroundings before focusing on her husband.

“Good morning.” She smiled.

Her stomach tensed when she remembered how all those muscles now hidden under his shirt had felt in direct contact with her body only a few hours ago. And that quick quirk of the corner of his mouth she had so liked since the day they met. She wanted to kiss it off his face. More, she wanted to kiss his entire face until there was not a single untouched spot left on it.

Percy reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.

“You have been out already?” she asked.

“I have. I also hired a new steward for Bromsholme to give Petre some relief. The two of them have just ridden out to inspect the home farm.”

“What time is it?”

“Past ten o’clock.”

“Oh! I am to take Mrs. Baillie’s portrait to her this afternoon. Ethel is coming with me. She’ll be here by noon.” Then a thought struck her. “Has Pergot been in here?”

“No, he had something very important to do elsewhere. I was forced to button my waistcoat all by myself,” Percy said matter-of-factly, but his mouth quirked in one corner. “Shall I inform Miss Fourier where to find you before she organizes a search party?”

Letitia shook her head.

“I can find the door to my room. Ouch.” She winced as she moved, surprised by a jolt of soreness in unexpected places.

“It will go away with practice,” her husband said, grinning quite shamelessly. “No regrets about last night, Lady Hanbury?”

“None,” she told him with a smile and sat up. The wispy brush of a breeze coming through the window could only mean… She hastily pulled the sheets all the way up to her chin. “Where is my nightgown?”

Percy reached to the nearby chair and picked up a white bundle from the seat. But he didn’t seem in favor of modesty this morning, any more than he had been last night. Instead of handing her the garment, he took her hand and moved it until the sheets dropped, exposing her breasts to his view.

Her nipples puckered instantly. The way his gaze intensified felt very gratifying.

He kissed her open palm.

“I could not be completely sure yesterday, with only one candle lit,” he murmured while openly feasting on the sight of her, “but my first impression is now entirely confirmed in the broad daylight. You are a very beautiful woman, Lady Hanbury.”

“Uh, thank you.” Modesty could be dispensed with after such a compliment, so Letitia got out of bed before taking the nightgown from his hand. The familiar warmth began to spread through her belly as Percy kept devouring her with his eyes.

Before she had time to stick her head into the gown’s opening, he pulled her between his thighs. Warm, soft lips closed around one of those nipples that had recently developed such a liking for his company. Her belly contracted in a spasm of anticipation.

Percy’s mouth paid tribute to her second breast before he kissed her stomach.

“You are, of course, always welcome in this room, Lady Hanbury,” he said. “And I do not need to add that this is a standing invitation.”

“Thank you, sir,” she murmured back, ruffling his hair with one hand. “’Tis very generous of you. I hope you will not regret your rash invitation, because I am going to take you up on it.”

“Regret?” His smile contained all the promise of what she still remembered from her dream. “You cannot possibly outstay your welcome, my lady.”

He kissed her lightly again and helped pull the nightgown on. She couldn’t help herself. Letitia took his face in both hands and kissed his lips.

Percy’s arms tightened around her briefly before he turned her toward the door and patted her derriere.

“Give Mrs. Baillie my deepest regards,” he said.

The sight of her standing before him without a stitch on to conceal her beauty shortened his breath and hit his groin. The temptation to toss that nightgown out of her reach and take her to bed again was beginning to get the better of him, but he forced it away. She was too new to the game.

Percy waited a few minutes after the door closed behind Lettie before getting up from the bed.

A few brownish spots on the sheets caught his attention and brought back unbidden memories. How different had last night been from his first night with Sarah. Sarah had been almost hysterical before succumbing to his caresses. Afterwards, when leaving her room, he had been shocked by the bloodstains on her sheets, and guilt had settled heavily on his shoulders for having caused her so much suffering, albeit unwittingly.

Lettie, despite her inexperience, had been his equal partner, giving and taking at the same time, urging him on, letting him drive her on,
loving
him. Wanting
him
. Wanting more. Falling asleep in his arms after they loved again. He already missed her.

Sarah’s teary gaze full of accusations retreated into the shadows. He so wished it would stay there for good.

Ethel shoved her parasol and gloves in Slater’s direction, feeling a prickle of dismay when the old mannequin caught them without any detriment to either his starched person or the parasol and gloves themselves. Ignoring his stiff bow, she looked around.

During the two weeks she had spent with her aunt in Suffolk, Bromsholme had not changed, of course. Yet there was some new freshness about it. The presence of opulent flower arrangements on the hallway commodes couldn’t be the only reason.

“There you are, Ethel.”

She swirled toward the staircase. Letitia was coming down the stairs with light, springy steps. The sun flooding the hallway through the dome diffused around her pale-blue walking dress, creating an almost-palpable glow and lending her smile an aura of happiness. Ethel swallowed before plastering on her face a most amicable grin.

“Darling,” she exclaimed, “how
happy
I am to see you again. How lovely you look to— You cut your hair! Oh, didn’t I tell you how much it would add to your beauty?”

Letitia grinned, and Ethel felt a little dagger twisting in her belly. Letitia wasn’t supposed to be happy with this outcome.

“And I must thank you for such excellent advice, Ethel. You were correct, Percy likes it very much,” Letitia informed her, glowing. “But what about you? Suffolk, I hope, proved very enjoyable, did it not?”

“Oh, it was a trial, as always.” Ethel forced out the words, then waved her hand in dismissal and sighed. “But I must go every year since it pleases Father that I do so. I so missed being with you here.”

She leaned forward and placed a peck on Letitia’s cheek. “I cannot wait. You must tell me all the gossip, beginning with you.”

“I fear you will be disappointed. Nothing worth reporting has happened in the neighborhood in the last fortnight. Would you like lemonade before we set out for the Rose Cottage?”

“Oh yes, that would be splendid.” Ethel looped her arm through Letitia’s, directing their steps toward the corridor leading to the orangery. She was dying to see the changes. “I declare yours shall be the best portrait Mrs. Baillie has ever had done.”

“Why, thank you, Ethel. You’ll have to wait with your praise until the Rose Cottage,” Letitia rejoined, changing their direction for the drawing room. “The canvas was wrapped yesterday and is probably in the carriage already.”

“Oh, how very thoughtful of you. Well, it doesn’t signify.” Ethel covered her growing annoyance with another smile. “What are you painting now? Perhaps Percy’s portrait?”

Letitia shook her head. “No, not his portrait. You will see what it is when I’m ready to show it. Come, let us have refreshments in the drawing room.” She let go of Ethel’s arm when they reached the door. “Is Sir Percival still home?” she asked the footman who opened it for them.

“I believe so, my lady.”

Ethel felt a pang of resentment at the nearly imperceptible brightening of Letitia’s face. She felt her pocket.

“Maybe he’ll join us,” Letitia said cheerfully, entering the room.

“That would be lovely.” Ethel forced out an equally cheerful reply, despite the bitterness spreading in her chest. “Oh, but I have something for you.” She reached into the pocket. “A little gift. It is something very pretty. At least
I
think so.” And she handed Letitia a small package wrapped in tissue and tied with a green string. “I hope you will enjoy it.”

“Why, thank you, Ethel.” Letitia was evidently surprised, but she took the package from her outstretched palm and pulled on the string. “A ribbon! How very thoughtful of you. I will cherish your sweet gift.”

Before she could fold the wrapper back in place, Ethel pulled the ribbon out.

“The minute I found it, I knew it would be the most perfect adornment for your hair, my dear friend. Let me see.” She looped the ribbon around Letitia’s head without giving her time to react while the soft silk sank into golden locks. “So becoming!”

Letitia raised one hand to her head, feeling it with her fingertips. There was no mirror in the drawing room. “Let me see.” She grinned, turning for the door.

At that very moment, it opened, and Percy walked in.

“Good afternoon, Ethel,” he said, acknowledging her presence with a polite but all too brief nod before turning to Letitia. “How was your visit to S—”

His voice died in the middle of a sentence.

“Where di-did you find it?” he stammered, gaping at the ribbon as if he’d encountered a ghost.

“It—” Letitia began, confusion marring her face.

“Oh, it is just a little gift from me,” Ethel interrupted. “Doesn’t she look beautiful in it?”

Percy couldn’t help himself. He didn’t miss Ethel, but seeing Lettie again was too much of a temptation, even if that meant getting into a conversation with the nosy chatterbox. No matter, just one last look at his wife before she headed out. After all, he would not be with her until dinner.

He walked into the drawing room, for once almost happy at the prospect of Ethel’s prattle since it would give him a perfect excuse to be near Lettie for a few minutes.

Ethel stood close to the door. She immediately turned toward him, a happy grin accentuated by the dimples in her cheeks.

He mumbled a greeting, already seeking the only woman he wanted to see. Letitia dashed toward the door as if running straight into his arms. His heart thudded at her sight.

Until he noticed the ribbon entwined in her hair.

Black patches filled his vision. He almost took a step back. Instead of Lettie’s lovely locks, he saw Sarah’s darkened face and a miniature suspended on an identical ribbon dangling from her neck. Was this just a horrible coincidence? Would he ever be free of that day’s nightmare?

“Where did you get it?” The words barely passed his lips. Perhaps a length of the ribbon had remained hidden in some drawer downstairs. He’d buy Lettie a thousand ribbons, but not
this
one.

“It is a gift from me.” Ethel’s syrupy voice reminded him of her presence. As in a nightmare, he turned his head toward her. She was still smiling while talking, but somehow her smile took on an almost-grotesquely artificial innocence while her eyes, full of calculation, devoured him. “Oh, Percy, don’t you like it?” She stood very close to him, reached out and took his hand in hers. Her fingers trailed up his palm. “I’ve had it for some time, and when I found it yesterday, I knew the colors would be perfect for Letitia.”

Percy pulled his hand out of Ethel’s surprisingly strong grip and glanced back at Lettie. She watched him, bewildered, rooted to the same spot where he’d first seen her. Her hand was still raised to her hair.

Ethel grabbed his hand again. “You don’t like it?” she repeated, dismayed. “But it really is so beautiful.”

Did she know? She had to.

Did she know
everything
?

He freed his hand once more and, without a word, turned for the door.

Letitia watched the strange scene unveiling in front of her, stunned by Percy’s reaction to something as insignificant as a ribbon in her hair. It was a very beautiful ribbon, to be sure. Made of moiré silk in sea blue, it was intricately embroidered with a garland motif in different shades of terra-cotta, sienna and green. Of course, she was gratified by such a pretty gift.

When Percy entered the room, her happiness was complete. His warm gaze was full of promise—until he beheld her hair. The promise vanished, and with it, a door was shut. They stood next to each other, yet she felt as if they were thousands of miles apart, and Percy was in a place where she couldn’t reach him. Not only did he recognize the ribbon, but the recognition brought on some heart-wrenching memory. She could almost feel the torturous shock holding him in a vicious grip.