Lord of the Rakes (20 page)

“You wish to know what happened.” Philip tore his eyes away from her hands and turned toward the window. “The bare facts are these. Last year, I met Mrs. Warrick at a country house party, and we began a flirtation. I knew—or I thought I knew—she was a woman who enjoyed the company of a lover without wishing to take on the demands of a protector or husband. The affair endured for some time, and was very strong.” He paused, perhaps noting how Caroline’s hands had knotted together once more. “Should I continue?”

“Yes.” She had asked him to speak. She had promised herself repeatedly she would not accept anything less than honesty. She must hear him through.

Philip nodded once. “A month or so ago, I sensed a change in her. I suspected she was growing restless. Before I could ask her about it, however, I arrived at our rooms to find her in the arms of another man. A very young man, who nonetheless had the good sense to beat a hasty retreat.

“When he was gone, she said . . . she said she was glad I had caught her. She told me she had been bored for some time. She . . .” Philip’s jaw tightened. When he was able to speak again, his words were halting and his voice was hoarse with strain. “I asked her why she did not simply tell me her good-bye. She replied that her new lover—whose charms and talents she praised at length—was not only poor, he was not a free man. She said I made a good disguise for their affair.”

“A rather shortsighted confession,” murmured Caroline.

The corner of Philip’s mouth twitched into the smallest possible smile. “Yes. I thought something similar. However, I was determined to take her at her word. I told her that since she had another lover she preferred to me, I wished them every happiness and that she would never again be importuned by my attentions. I thought that would be the end of it.” He paused again. “It hurt me,” he went on softly. “Her conduct, and her scorn. It hurt my pride, but more than that. I had thought we had . . . not love exactly. We both of us were long past that particular dream. But I thought we shared friendship, and some respect, along with the passion.”

Caroline swallowed. With each word, Philip hunched farther in on himself. The laughing, passionate lover melted away. All that remained was the old and bitter man she had glimpsed so briefly before.

She longed to close the distance between them. She wanted to take him in her arms and say what she thought of a woman who would treat any man with such disdain. But Caroline did not let herself move. To do so would have silenced him. She heard the depth of the pain in Philip’s voice, and how hard he was trying to bury it so he could speak dispassionately. She needed him to finish his story, and in her heart, she was sure he also needed to finish it.

“Then, that night in Mrs. Gladwell’s garden . . . the reason I left you was my friend Gideon Fitzsimmons had come to warn me Mrs. Warrick was looking for me. I was afraid she might create some sort of scene. She’s certainly capable of it. So I left you to speak to her.” He paused, clearly suppressing some strong feeling. Caroline ordered herself to keep her hands still, to listen, calmly, dispassionately. “She said she was wrong to send me away. She said . . . a number of things, but the upshot of the conversation was she wanted me to return to her.”

“But you did not.” Caroline’s heart pounded at the very base of her throat now, its rhythm driven by more feelings than she could name.

“I did not.” Philip hung his head, but whether the gesture was one of shame or relief, Caroline found she could not tell. “I walked away from her. And now . . . now I don’t know if that was the right thing to do.”

“Because you still have feelings for her?”

“No. Because I see that in her malice, she might make difficulties for you.”

Another silence stretched out between them. Caroline turned over Philip’s words. She believed he had given her the truth. This left her profoundly relieved. At the same time it was not an easy or a comfortable story, and she was not at all certain what to do with it now.

“Have you spoken with Mrs. Warrick privately since then?” she asked.

“I tried,” he said. “I went to her house, where I was informed, several times, she was not at home.” His expression spoke volumes about how likely he thought this was. “Then came this little set piece at the opera, and I am not entirely sure what to make of it.”

“But you do not believe she is truly wounded by your . . . denying her request to return.”

Philip looked at her sharply. “What makes you so certain?”

“You would not have turned away from her if you did.”

As Caroline spoke, she saw something entirely new spark in the depths of Philip’s gaze. It was different from desire, or even from respect. This was the simple thankfulness that came with realizing one had been understood. In answer, fresh warmth blossomed in her heart that had nothing to do with passion, but everything to do with longing.

“You take a very good view of the character of a man you’ve known for such a short time,” said Philip.

“Am I mistaken?” she asked.

He considered this. “No,” he said finally. “I do not believe she is wounded. I wish I knew what she is.”

Philip walked around the edge of her coffee table and came to stand by the hearth. Caroline had to turn in the chair to follow him, and look all the long way up to meet his eyes. But he wasn’t looking at her as he spoke. He was staring into the flames of her small fire.

“Caroline, I will go if you want me to, and I will understand why you send me away. No sensible woman would court scandal for the sake of a man she has just met. I had even considered staying away tonight. I told myself it was not fair to come to you until this other matter was finished.”

“Then why did you come?”

Philip faced her. She saw how his fist tightened at his side. Not because he was angry, but because he needed to keep it still.

“I did not want you to think I had in any way changed my mind about our relations.”

Would she have thought that, if Philip had not kept their assignation? She might. The emotions and passions he brought to her were so fresh and raw that she barely understood them. She could not be sure how she would react if he suspended their affair even for a few days. She might very well have blamed Harry for it, and that would have soured her friendship with Fiona. Just thinking of it now left her cold and hollow.

Perhaps it would be wiser to send him away, and not just because of Mrs. Warrick. She needed time to understand what was happening in her heart. She needed to adjust to the power of her passion, so she could control it as a lady must. If she continued this way, without restraint, she might not be able to leave when the time came. Then Jarrett would drag her back to Keenesford Hall, and it would be her own fault.

“Caroline?” Caroline looked up at Philip, his powerful form surrounded by the firelight’s glow. There was a tension in his voice, one that Caroline thought she recognized. It was the tension of unspoken words.

“What are you not telling me, Philip?”

There was another hesitation. Then, slowly, as if he feared she might retreat from him, Philip said, “I am not telling you how it kills me to stand here and talk calmly with you about these things. I am not telling you how much I long to take you in my arms. I want to whisper a seducer’s words into your ear until you melt against me, so I can feel your body heating and relaxing as you ready yourself for my most intimate touch.” He reached out one warm, infinitely welcome hand and caressed the curve of her jaw, letting his fingertips linger under her chin. “I want to kiss you, Caroline, hard, on your mouth and throat. I want to do such things as will have you crying out in your delight and begging for more. And you know you will beg before I am finished with you. But I cannot say any of those things. I vowed I would not take advantage of any passion we have fostered between us. I would be rational. I would be reasonable. But seeing you here, so proud and so beautiful . . .” Abruptly, Philip strode across the room, as if he needed to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. “God, Caroline!” he cried. “Either send me away or bid me come to you, because I cannot stand this politesse anymore.”

Caroline’s heart hammered so hard she shook from the force of its beating. She pictured herself sending him away. She should. She must. She had to find her poise, her control again.

But she could not shape those words.

“Come to me, Philip.”

P
hilip did not remember crossing the room. The next thing he was clearly aware of was grabbing Caroline up out of her chair and pressing his mouth against hers. She melted into his embrace, filling his arms with her luxurious curves. Triumphant lust consumed him and he pulled her tight against him so she could rub against him. His hands moved across her body, caressing every inch, squeezing her, teasing her, undoing the tapes and hooks on her modest gown almost without conscious thought. He was only aware that he held his Caroline. He speared his fingers into her hair so he could keep her still, so he could find her open mouth and sweep his tongue across hers. This intimate contact made her sigh, softening the whole of her, bringing them closer yet. He lifted her onto her toes, and cupped her lush derriere, grinding their hips together.

“You’re ready for me under those damned skirts, aren’t you?” he whispered harshly. “You’d take me here and now.”

Her answer was to moan, and he kissed her again. He wrapped his arm around her body, pinning her against him. He grasped her breast roughly with his free hand, delighting in her sounds of pleasure as he circled her taut nipple with his thumb. She ran her hands down his back and planted them on his buttocks.

“Yes, I would take you here. I want all of you,” she gasped, as if she was not already telling him that with her entire body. Her words fed his unslaked desire, and their taste was sweet. She shimmied her hips against him. “It’s driving me insane. I want your body naked against me. I want you inside me.”

He groaned.
Anything,
shouted the desire inside him.
Anything you want. Lay me down now. Tell me what you want. I will do anything you say.

A lifetime’s worth of control reared up, freezing his runaway thoughts and frantic desire. Philip lifted his mouth from Caroline’s. Like a man in a dream, he watched his hands settle on her shoulders and gently but firmly push her away from him.

“Philip?” Caroline stared, clearly confounded by his action. For a moment even he did not entirely understand what he was doing, or why.

Philip made himself smile to her. He needed Caroline to see this had nothing to do with her, or with her glorious response to their mutual desire.

“You will have everything you want,” he said. “But first . . . first you will go upstairs to your room, you will strip yourself naked, and you will wait for me.”

“What are you doing, Philip?” asked Caroline.

With that single question, Philip knew that for Caroline the moment was growing cold. She was not falling into the game. She was trying to think. He could not permit that, because he did not know where her thoughts would lead. How could he, when he was not even sure where his own were going?

Philip moved closer. There was a bare hairbreadth between them now. Caroline’s breath was coming short and fast and yet she held herself still, resisting his presence and her passion. He could smell the scent of her, lemon and jasmine and coffee and the subtle spice that was Caroline herself. He grasped both her hands and stretched her arms high over her head. Slowly, he stroked his hands down, reveling in the softness that masked so much strength. “You will have me, Caroline, but first you will do as you are told.”

For a moment Philip thought she would rebel. As she faced him, he saw she was as far beyond beautiful as the sun was beyond the moon. Desire flushed her skin and yet her dark eyes blazed with determination. Every inch of him was alive from her touch. It felt like his trousers were throttling him. He wanted to grab her up and lay her down on that damned sofa and fuck her hard, until they both screamed. Then he would teach her how to use her mouth on him. As soon as she got him ready, he would take her again, until she was begging and calling his name and telling him what she wanted, so he could select the nature of their satisfaction, as he always had with all the women he had bedded.

Caroline drew herself up to her full height. She laid her hand on his cheek and dragged her palm firmly down the line of his jaw, to his chest, to his crotch. It took everything Philip had to keep still, every ounce of control to meet the challenge in her gaze.

Caroline turned around, skirts swirling, and walked away.

The door shut. Philip closed his eyes and groaned. It was a long, pained, and, if he was honest with himself, self-indulgent noise. When he could manage to move again, he went straight to the decanters, poured himself out a whiskey, and took a swallow. He had to collect himself, because when Caroline pressed that astounding and responsive body against him and told him all she wanted, he’d almost spoken the word he never said to any lover.

Anything. He’d almost told Caroline,
I will do anything.
He’d almost said,
Command me.

Philip enjoyed having a woman list her desires for him. He liked to hear her needs in detail, and preferably with the world “please” appended at frequent intervals. It was exciting as well as informative, and allowed him to choose in which particular to satisfy his lover’s cravings. And, of course, pretending to give in to a command was always a pleasant aspect to a lover’s game.

But this had been different. He had been in earnest when he spoke to Caroline of the force of his desire for her. That in and of itself was disturbing. Beyond a certain point, his feelings, even his desires, were not a matter for discussion.

But after he’d told her the story of his relationship with Eugenia, Philip had been certain for a moment, just one moment, that she would send him away. In that moment a terrible and unfamiliar dread overcame him. The bitter taste of it still lingered in the back of his throat. It wasn’t until Caroline smiled that he could breathe again. When he held her, when she began to speak of all she wanted of him, it was as if he had returned from the dead.

Anything. I will do anything.
And in that moment he would have. He would have knelt in front of her. He would have knelt naked in front of her, and he—Philip Montcalm, Lord of the Rakes—would have begged.

The image seared a path straight through Philip, burning hotter than the whiskey. His groin pulsed with fresh pain. He could see it. See her. He envisioned Caroline straight and queenly in her chair, not daring him, not teasing him, but commanding him as he was the one who bowed. As he surrendered not to his own desire, but entirely to hers.

Very slowly, very carefully, Philip set his glass down. Calling on all his strength and a lifetime’s worth of practice, he wrenched his mind back from that brink. He would have his satisfaction. His lover was readying herself for him now. But he would be in command before he went to her. A man who lost control was a man who lost his freedom. That could not be permitted. Surrender was for other men, even in lover’s play. If a man got used to being commanded in one area of his life, it would creep over into others. It might teach his heart to yield to the commonplace notions of what a man should settle for. But those notions of love and marriage were for men whom unkind destiny left vulnerable. Such men, like Banbridge, or his brother Owen, were denied that last measure of freedom, so they must make the best of things. He was luckier than that. He was entirely free from all responsibility. Such rare freedom was not to be jeopardized, not even to enjoy the passions of Lady Caroline. Philip had already danced too close to that particular cliff by allowing himself to mingle with her friends, and accept invitations from those who saw it as their duty to protect her.

Philip took another swallow of whiskey. Dammit, why was he making such heavy weather out of a fleeting image of himself as the one bound and waiting for another’s commands? He chuckled. Probably it all came from that bane of man’s existence—his overeager member. He was hot and hard enough that any imagined act would stoke his flame, especially if he imagined it with Lady Caroline. It meant nothing.

What mattered that she was waiting for him, and that he was sure he’d find her naked, exactly as he had ordered her to be.

Smiling, and once more in control of mind and body, Philip finished his whiskey and started up the stairs.