Her Secret Affair (30 page)

I love you.

Exultation quaked through him, heightening his raging need. He wrested open his breeches, shoved them off, and sank down into the welcoming cradle of Isabel’s body. When she closed her fingers around his throbbing shaft, he almost lost his battle for control. Her guiding hand led him to the brink of paradise, and in one fierce plunge, he met a barrier and breached it.

She stiffened, her nails digging into his back, her cry stifled against his sweat-slickened chest. He went still, fighting the urge to move within her incredible velvet tightness. “Isabel?”

He looked down at her, into the awed surprise on her face, and he knew. He was her first. The truth engulfed him with shock and a wild masculine triumph. “You’re mine now.
Mine.
” His voice sounded thick and guttural, his throat choked with an emotion too new to define.

Cupping her face, he kissed her with all the fierceness flooding his heart. Then he could restrain himself no longer; he delved deeper into the mystery of her. The sensual friction lured him ever closer to the darkness he now craved, to the black whirlpool that he could no longer resist. She found his rhythm and matched it, moving with him faster and harder, her small body arching to his. Her breathy moans stoked his fever and on her soft gasp of rapture, he tumbled over the edge, his seed pulsing into her. He plunged not into darkness but into a light so bright it blinded him with joy.

In the aftermath, he held tightly to Isabel and his labored breathing slowed. He rolled onto his back, bringing her half atop him. He found himself gazing up at the frilly pink canopy, each corner held by a fat, naked cherub gazing down blissfully at them.

He wanted to laugh, not in ridicule, but out of sheer satisfaction. The knot inside his chest had vanished. In its place he felt an immeasurable warmth and tenderness toward the woman lying in his arms.

The rich mass of her hair tumbled over her shoulders and onto him, as if to bind them together. He breathed in her fragrance mingled with the musk of their lovemaking. She lay with her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder, her fingers idly tracing the length of his collarbone. His skin heated wherever she touched him, and the feeling was a blend of sensual arousal and perfect euphoria. How long had it been since he’d felt so contented?

I love you.

His chest constricted with a yearning he could not fathom. He wondered if she truly meant those words, or if she’d spoken only in the heat of the moment. Passion was new to her. She might easily confuse it with deeper, more enduring emotions. Just as he himself might mistake the tenderness inside him as something heartfelt and lasting.

With effort, he blocked the direction of his mind. He wasn’t yet ready to think about the future. He wanted to savor the moment.

Stroking the silken curve of her backside, he felt vastly pleased at the turn of events. He owed Isabel an apology. He had misjudged her, tarred her with the same tawdry feather as her mother. But how could he beg forgiveness for making love to her? He couldn’t express regret when he felt like crowing from the rooftop. He was her first, her only lover.

“Venus the virgin,” he murmured.

Her hand went still. She lifted her head to regard him warily. Her reddened lips and tousled dark hair distinguished her as a woman who had been thoroughly pleasured. “I’m not one of the goddesses,” she said defensively. “That’s why I don’t use the name.”

“I know that now.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I’m glad of it.”

“And now I realize what I’ve missed,” she continued with a sniff. “Chastity is overvalued.”

“So is celibacy.” She still looked vulnerable, so he confessed, “Isabel, contrary to your opinion about gentlemen, I’ve had only one sexual encounter before you. And that one was a gift for my fourteenth birthday. Courtesy of my father.” He couldn’t stop the brusque note that entered his voice.

Her fine eyebrows drew together in a frown. “A gift?”

“Yes.” He could still feel the rage and pain of his adolescent heart. Yet if it helped Isabel feel more at ease, he’d tell her. “From the time I was very young, I hated the lecher my father was, and he knew it. Too often, he made my mother weep with his infidelities. She was nothing more than a breeding mare to him—and even motherhood brought her no peace since I was her only child to survive. She died when I was ten, from a fever after another stillbirth.”

Isabel closed her eyes a moment, then looked at him again, sympathy softening her features. “Oh, Kern. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

Uneasy with her compassion, he shrugged. “The point is that from the time I began to grow into a man, Lynwood was determined to corrupt me. He invited me to join his drunken orgies. He offered to lend me one of his many mistresses. But I was sickened by his excesses. And I resisted temptation until a house party at our estate the week of my fourteenth birthday.”

He paused, his throat rigid, the dark cloud of memory obscuring the hopes and dreams of an idealistic boy on the brink of adulthood. At the time, he had so wanted to believe in the triumph of love over evil.

“Please,” Isabel said gently. “Will you tell me what happened?”

He took a deep breath. “My father invited his current mistress—a countess who brought along her daughter, a girl of about my age. As the only two juveniles in the party, Sarah and I spent much of the week together. She was pretty and friendly, and I fell madly in love with her.”

He remembered those fine summer days, when she’d laughed and swung on the garden swing, her kicks giving him teasing glimpses of slender white legs.

“How lucky she was to have won your regard.” Isabel feathered her fingertips up his cheek and over his temples. The affectionate gesture encouraged Kern to bare his soul to her, to relate the tale he had never revealed to any other person.

“By the second day, we’d shared a stolen kiss, which led to more daring caresses. Then on the last night, Sarah came to my bed, purportedly to say good-bye. You can imagine what happened next. Even when it became obvious she was experienced, I was blinded by my desire for her. I believed in her, trusted her.” Recalling his reckless declarations of love, he grimaced and forced himself to go on. “The following morning, my father walked in and found us together. He wished me a happy birthday and gave Sarah a diamond bracelet, payment for services rendered. And she got out of my bed and went to him.”

The echo of her laughter had haunted him for years afterward. But no longer. He felt strangely freed by the confession, as if a dark burden of shame and anger had been lifted from him.

Isabel’s huffy breath feathered his chest. “That is appalling. How could your father plan such a thing? And how could that horrid girl possibly choose Lynwood over you?”

The implied compliment pleased him. He lightly ran his knuckles down the silky skin of her cheek. “It doesn’t matter. I never saw Sarah again. And from that moment, I vowed to live an honorable life. I swore I wouldn’t make love to any woman but my wife.”

Until now. Until you.

The unspoken words hovered in the twilight air. By seducing Isabel, he had complicated his future. There would be consequences to face later, decisions to make. But for now, he wanted only to go on holding her, savoring her warmth and softness. One night of passion wouldn’t make him a profligate.

Her velvety brown eyes still looked troubled. “You thought … I was like Sarah.”

He couldn’t deny it. He had believed the worst of Isabel. By way of atonement, he kissed her brow. “I was wrong. I saw only what experience taught me to see.”

“And what do you see now?” Her voice held a thread of defiance that touched him deeply even as it made him smile.

“I see a woman who is beautiful inside and out.” He smoothed his palms down the back of her, feeling himself stir in response to her feminine shape. “A woman who knows her own mind.” He caressed the globes of her breasts. “A woman who had the discernment to save herself for me.”

“And I see an arrogant man who did likewise.” She stretched languidly, her fingers playing with the hair on his chest. “I trust you won’t wait so long for your next intimate experience.”

She gave him a coy half-smile that instantly roused him to hard, raging need. He turned her onto her back, letting her feel how much he wanted her. “I trust you’re right.”

While the rays of the setting sun bathed the room in gold, they kissed and caressed, exploring all the secrets of their bodies. He took his time with her, pleasuring her with his mouth and hands until she lay panting, clutching at him. “Kern …
oh
 … that’s wicked … but don’t stop … please don’t stop.”

“Say my name, then. Justin.”

“Justin.” She smiled at him, her eyes dreamy with something greater than passion. “Justin, I do love you.”

This time, he had to choke back a declaration of his own. He couldn’t love her; he didn’t dare. “Ah, Isabel. I’ve never wanted any woman as much as I want you.”

He slowly entered her until she fit him like a tight sheath, then moved in rhythm with her as if they were one body, one soul. And when she reached the peak, he came with her, the world exploding on his fierce cry of exultation.

Dusk spread a deep purple veil over the room. Isabel lay snuggled against him. Her eyes were closed, her breathing peaceful. A throat-catching tenderness stole over him as he realized she had fallen asleep. And he felt not a whit of regret for exhausting her.

He wanted to sleep beside her, to hold her for a little while longer. But she might take a chill now that her passion had cooled.

He eased himself free, his gaze on the rumpled coverlet, which dangled crookedly over the side of the bed. As he leaned over to tug it up, he noticed a linen-covered square sticking out from beneath the pile of her clothing on the floor.

Nudged by curiosity, he reached down and picked it up. The booklike shape made his blood run cold with suspicion. He opened the drawstring and pulled out a slim, leather-bound volume. For a long moment, he stared down through the half-darkness at the title.

The True Confessions of a Ladybird.

Apollo and I despised each other on first sight.

On that fateful night of our meeting, I was persuaded to attend a gathering of gentlemen at a private club off St. James’s Street. They wished to give me as a special gift to a friend on the eve of his betrothal. Being intrigued by the notion, I allowed myself to be conveyed inside a covered silver platter borne by two footmen.

There, clad in a diaphanous dress, I emerged like Venus from her seashell. And found myself facing the most compelling man I had ever met in my illustrious career as a courtesan.

Apollo was furious, of course. I understood why later, when I came to know his noble character. But at that moment when he took one contemptuous look at me, denounced me for a whore in front of the party of gentlemen, and then walked out of the room, I hated him.

And I was determined to have him. No general could have waged a campaign more boldly than I did that spring. I dressed as a lady and called on Apollo. I conspired to meet him riding in the park. When at last I crept into his bed, the glorious experience ended our animosity and awakened our tender affections for each other.

Oh, what a vain and foolish creature I had been until then! I thought I knew what it was to love a man. All that summer I devoted myself to Apollo, remaining faithful until our last night together, the night before his wedding. The night I conceived our love child …

—The True Confessions of a Ladybird

Chapter 16

Isabel awoke to darkness and an empty bed.

For a moment she could not imagine why she was snuggled beneath the covers in her mother’s room, or why her body felt so marvelously replete, a pleasant ache lingering deep in her belly. Her eyes still closed, she stretched, aware of the smoothness of the linens against her sensitized skin. Then she caught a whiff of musk and the joyous episode came back to her in a wonderful wave of memory.

She and Kern had made love. Not once but twice their bodies had been joined in the most intimate way. She fancied she could still feel the tender touch of his hands and mouth, arousing her to an ecstasy she had not dreamed possible. The mere thought of it made her long for him again.

Had he left her already?

She lifted her head from the pillow, her gaze drawn to a small circle of light across the room. The bereft feeling inside her changed to unabashed pleasure. Half in shadow, he sat in an armchair by the hearth. A candle flickered on the small table beside him. He had donned his clothing, though he looked deliciously virile with his white linen shirt open to his bare chest. One of his feet was propped on a footstool as he gazed down at a book in his lap. An absorbed expression dominated his strong features, and she remembered the raspy sensation of his cheek against her breasts. Her flesh tingled at the memory.

She loved him. The first time she had said so, she had surprised herself with the unexpected power of her feelings. The words had come straight out of her heart, a revelation as inevitable as the tides. What they had shared was more than mere lust, more than the satisfaction of a mutual physical urge. She loved Justin Culver, Earl of Kern and heir to the Duke of Lynwood. She loved his strength of character, his sense of honor, his determination to seek out the truth. Despite his exalted status, he was a good man, a man worthy of her favor.

But, oh, what a tangled skein they had woven. Their relationship had altered irrevocably. Where would they go from here? He was not a profligate to use a woman and then abandon her. Nor was he free to offer his heart to her. He was betrothed to Helen.

Pain throttled Isabel’s throat. She couldn’t yet think about facing the girl who had become like a sister to her, the girl she had betrayed in the most vile way possible. She felt sick inside at the thought.

Not that her treachery had been cold-bloodedly planned. In the heat of the moment, she and Kern had been swept into a storm of passion. Instinct and emotion had overpowered logic and reason. Now, her heart ached at the utter impossibility of their situation. Like her mother, she had fallen in love with a lord who was engaged to wed a lady.