Further Than Passion (7 page)

He thrust once, twice, thrice, and his seed gushed to the tip. With a moan of delight, he spilled himself, coming with great relish, pushing into her over and over, as if he couldn't reach the end.

Ultimately, the tempest subsided, his penetrations slowing, his erection waning. She enjoyed a last nibble across the sensitive head, savoring his taste, his smell; then she shifted away. Smug and pleased with her seduction, she cuddled herself to him, impatient for a compliment, or at least an upbeat comment, but he was silent.

"That was very spectacular," she ventured.

"Yes, it was," he concurred.

"I'm so glad you let me indulge."

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9

She was a tad flustered by his reticence, but then, he was a virgin. Very likely, he couldn't decide on an appropriate remark.

"Shall we retire to my bed?" Anxious to continue, she cooed and stretched. "We can spend hours making love."

He glanced at the clock. "Actually, I have to meet with my mother in a few minutes."

"Your mother?" She loathed Regina and couldn't keep the derision out of her voice. "I thought you just spoke with her."

"I have to
speak
with her again."

"You're a grown man. And an earl. She can wait."

He shrugged. "When she's happy, it's easier for all concerned."

A spurt of temper flooded her. How dare he be so ungrateful! How dare he saunter out without so much as a fare-thee-we
ll
!

She almost disparaged him, but then, she remembered how new he was at carnal games. He didn't realize that it was uncouth to have his fun, then dash off. There was an etiquette attached to prurient enterprises, but he'd never been apprised. How could he be expected to follow the rules?

It was another aspect about which she would have to educate him during the leisurely, lazy trysts they would share.

"When will your appointment be concluded?"

"I can't say, but I'll be busy afterward. I have engagements scheduled from now till late."

"But I was so hoping you could sneak back upstairs."

"It won't be possible."

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0

She bit down on a bitter retort. The foolish boy! Didn't he comprehend what he was passing up? Men begged for a chance to philander with her! She could have her pick, and she'd picked him, yet he was behaving as if the assignation hadn't meant anything, as if
she
hadn't meant anything.

She had her pride, though, and she wouldn't let him ascertain how furious she was. "Perhaps tonight, then. After everyone's abed."

"Perhaps," he equivocated, leaving her to conjecture whether he was interested or not, and she was stunned.

Lovers never spurned her, especially after they'd sampled her luscious fruits. His lack of enthusiasm was so shocking and so unusual that she was perplexed. For once,
she
was smitten and eager for a second rendezvous, while h
e
could care
l
ess.

"I guess I'll see you at supper." She was determined to act as nonchalant as he.

"If
not before."

Like a silly schoolgirl, she soared at the prospect that they might convene earlier.

"Have a grand afternoon."

"I will."

He stood and straightened his clothes, ran his
f
ingers through his hair, and in the blink of an eye he was tidy and composed. He leaned down, bracing himself on either side of her.

"That was fabulous." He brushed a kiss across her lips. "Thank you."

Then, he turned and left.

She stared at the door, listening to his retreat. This couldn't be his sole visit! It had been too exceptional, too out of the ordinary, though in view of his inexperience,

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1

he probably didn't fathom how unique it had been. She would need to enlighten him.

The tang of his seed was strong, and the flavor had ceased to be pleasant. She reached for his glass and downed his brandy, washing away the remnants of their debauchery.

She didn't know why, but she was depressed, and she felt unclean. She poured herself some wine, drank it, too, then rang for a bath.

₅

"Well," Melanie snapped, "i
f
you hadn't spilled the
f
irst bottle of love potion, we wouldn't need to purchase a second. Is it my fault you're so clumsy?"

It was a sunny summer afternoon, but their carriage was dark, and Kate was glad for the shadows. They shielded her facial expressions so Melanie couldn't detect how she was gnashing her teeth.

That blasted potion! Hadn't it wreaked enough havoc?

Melanie had demanded to see the vial, and Kate couldn't explain its absence, so she'd fibbed about what had happened, when she should have avoided any fabrication. She was a horrid liar.

"I didn't drop it intentionally. It slipped out of my hand."

"I declare, Kate. With each passing day, you're less dependable. Mother says if you grow any more unreliable, she'll terminate you. What will become of you then?"

63

Kate was tempted to utter a few scathing retorts, but she resisted the urge. Regina frequently taunted her with termination, and when she'd been younger, the prospect had terrified. But anymore, she was so fed up that banishment would be a relief. She'd be compelled to make her own way, which she should have done years earlier, but habit and routine had kept her from forging a different path.

However, if she was to be fired, she was determined it be over a dramatic infraction. She wasn't about to lose everything due to an idiotic tincture, although she was nervous about condemning it as a fake.

Though she yearned to deny it, the elixir had mysterious qualities. Against her will, it had lured her into Stamford's bedchamber, and now she could concentrate on naught but him. Her mind had been so radically afflicted that she worried the concoction was dangerous, that it had altered her personality.

How long would the treacherous effect last? What if it never disappeared? Was she destined to be consumed forevermore by obsessive thoughts of Stamford?

A woman could go mad, languishing in such wicked reveries. Kate wished she could open up her head and bustle through with a stiff broom to sweep away all images and dreams of him.

"Can we forget about the potion?"

"No, we can't," Melanie griped. "Have I asked for the moon? I ordered you to put it into his wine, and you couldn't accomplish that simple feat."

"It's not as easy as you contend. What if I give it to him at the wrong moment? He might stumble upon a chambermaid. What would we do then?"

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"Honestly, Kate," Melanie scoffed. "As if Stamford could be smitten by a servant. Even a magic tonic can't cause such an abnormal result."

"Will you listen to me? Please?"

"No. I'm quite resolved." The carriage rattled to a halt, and Melanie peeked out. "We've arrived. The apothecary's shop is down the block, tucked in the alley. I'll wait here."

Kate sighed, wondering how she could convince Melanie to heed her warnings. Stamford could drink a thousand gallons of the drug, without it producing any change in his behavior. He was despicable, would trifle with his own stepmother, with Kate, herself, so in what other debauchery might he engage? What female would willingly tie herself to such a dissolute villain?

She switched tactics. "Melanie, you've met Lord Stamford. You saw what he's like."

"So?"

"Your mission is fruitless."

"It is not. Mother claims he's very eager. Especially with his being aware of how pretty I am."

"She's
hoping,
Melanie." It was perilous to contradict Regina, so Kate was treading on hazardous ground. Regina often infuriated Melanie, but Melanie would never admit that her mother might be lying to her. "What if he proposes? He's so much older than you, so much more experienced and sophisticated."

"Are you implying that I'm not good enough for him?"

"No! I'm merely pointing out that he's not the man for you. You'll be miserable."

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"
I will not," she mutinously insisted.

"There are so many boys in town for the Season. They're closer in age, and they enjoy the same hobbies and diversions. Why don't you broaden your search? You needn't settle on him from the very beginning."

"Mother has decreed that it will be Stamford and no other, so I have no doubt he will be my husband." Bitterly, she added, "So shut up, and fetch me that potion!"

She yanked at the door and shove
d
Kate out, and a footman rushed up to steady her as she maneuvered the stairs.

They shared a wan smile, neither shocked by Melanie's temper. Her moods erupted frequently, and as Kate walked down the street, she pondered how intertwined her life was with Melanie's, how odd their association.

Kate had been born with everything and had had it snatched away. Melanie had been born with nothing but had had great wealth and position showered upon her, yet they were both unhappy.

Kate entered the shop, and as she glanced around, a bell jangled. It was a quaint place, filled with exotic odors and potted plants. The walls were lined with shelves containing peculiar bottles and jars.

The proprietor emerged from the rear, and Kate could barely keep from laughing aloud. Attired as he was in a flowing robe, he might have leapt from the pages of an ancient tale of dragons and knights. His hair was silvery, and he wore a pointy cap.

"May I help you?" he inquired.

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"Yes," Kate answered. "A few days ago, an acquaintance of mine purchased a love potion from you, and I would like to buy another. For
her.
Not for me."

"Another?" he gasped. "The ingredients are very powerful. I wouldn't feel comfortable dispensing more."

She retrieved the wad of bills Melanie had provided and pushed them toward him, figuring cash on the counter would spur a different decision. Melanie could be insufferable, and Kate wouldn't climb into the carriage without a new vial.

"I dropped the first one. It broke."

Suspicious, he studied her. "You must guarantee that you haven't administered it to the gentleman of interest. I can't have you overwhelming him with a double dose, for there's no predicting what mischief you might render. If the poor chap grew too enamored, his heart could fail. I won't be responsible for ... for murder."

"Oh for pity's sake." She rolled her eyes and raised her hand as if taking an oath. "I swear I dropped it."

"Well, then ... I expect I could be
persuade
d
—
i
f the price is right."

"I'm not giving you a penny more, yo
u
charlatan. This is all the money I have."

"No need to get huffy." He traipsed to the adjacent room, and after a lengthy delay, he brought her another vial, which she tucked into her reticule.

She was about to leave, but at the last second, she paused. Since she was positive he was a fraud, she hated to quiz him, but she didn't know where else to turn.

"Might I ask you a hypothetical question?"

"Certainly."

"Supposing someone
had
ingested the tonic. For

Further Than Passion
              
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example, what if an unsuspecting person drank it by accident? Is there an antidote?"

"An antidote?"

"Yes. If it was inadvertently swallowed, that individual could be a tad anxious. If so, there must be
a
... a remedy."

He was no fool, and he thoroughly assessed her. "You
took
it."

"I didn't mean to!" she blurted out.

He tutted and clucked. "Tell me this: Have you a piece of his property in your possession? It would be an object belonging only to him, and you can't account for your having it."

Her stomach plummeted, and she was dizzy. "His ring."

"Oh my ..."

The tidings had him distraught, and his upset panicked her. "What? What is it?"

He went to a shelf and found a powder, which he poured into an envelope. "Consume this mixture in hot tea, three times today, and once tomorrow morning, then restore the ring to him. But if it resurfaces in your custody, there's no hope for it."

"Don't be so secretive. Speak to me in plain English."

"If the ring comes back to you, the antidote won't work. Some things are preordained. You can't alter your destiny."

His words terrified her. The elixir had impaired her logic and common sense, and it was obvious that she was incapable of fighting her fixation with Stamford on her own. She had to stop her obsession, but if the cure was ineffective, how was she to rectify the situation?