Rebecca Hagan Lee (18 page)

Blake had long suspected the same thing, but he didn't think it his place to comment on his parents' love life.

"And in our day, we understood passion. We understood that young men and young women need a little leeway to investigate the sparks. And I would have thought that our dear queen understood the need as well, but she and her dearly departed Albert have successfully snuffed out nearly every means of doing so--at least in public. Why, it's absurd when you think that as young girls, my contemporaries and I ran about with our muslins dampened to show off our figures. We didn't hide behind whalebone and bustles."

"That must have been quite a sight, ma'am." Blake's respect and his admiration for his aunt was growing by leaps and bounds.

She acknowledged his compliment with a regal nod of her gray head. "The point is that while it's not my place to tell you how to live your lives, I insist on circumspect behavior in my presence at all times. I won't have you placing me in bad light but I see no point in sneaking around. I'm an old woman and while I'm perfectly capable of chaperoning a young girl, my eyesight is failing and my hearing is suspect. I won't be held accountable, nor will I condone servants' gossip or anyone questioning your morality. I'm expecting you to use the good judgment you were born with. Lord Wethering and I didn't cause a scandal and neither did your father and mother. We were smart and to this day, I'm certain no one has ever suspected that we might have anticipated our wedding vows. I'm not saying we did, mind you, I just saying that even if we did, no one would ever have suspected it. I expect no less from you."

Leaning heavily on her malacca cane, Lady Wethering pushed herself to her feet, walked to the door, and peeked around the corner. "Now where is that blasted Perryman? I would like my nightcap before I retire and leave you young ones to yourself. He can't still be searching for those chocolate concoctions.

Surely, he's realized that I polished them off at tea. Ah, here he is now."

"I couldn't find anymore chocolate bonbons," Perryman apologized to Lady Wethering as he entered the room carrying the tray of refreshments. "So I took the liberty of adding a few lemon meringues."

"That's fine," Lady Wethering said. She waited until Perryman bent to place her sherry on the table in front of the sofa to make her announcement, then winked at Blake and Cristina. "It was so thoughtful of you to go to all that trouble, Perryman, but I've decided to take my refreshments upstairs."

"I'll see you to your room," Blake offered.

"Oh, no, dear boy, you stay and keep Miss Fairfax company. Perryman will leave your drinks and some of the meringues before he accompanies me to my room. I'm sure Miss Fairfax must be famished. She hardly ate a bite at dinner.

It's all right, dear boy, Perryman is the soul of discretion. He wouldn't allow you to be alone with Miss Fairfax if it wasn't perfectly proper and so long as you don't indulge in spirits in her company," she picked up Blake's snifter of brandy and placed it on Perryman's tray, then set her glass of sherry on the table beside Cristina's. "I see no harm as long as you leave the door open and finish your refreshments, then go right upstairs to bed. Do you, Perryman?"

"No, ma'am."

"Besides, I trust you. Good night, my dears, enjoy your desserts. I intend to enjoy mine."

"Will you require anything else before I see Lady Wethering to her room and retire to my own bed, sir?"

"No, thank you, Perryman. We'll leave our dishes here. The maids can collect them in the morning. Hudson knows better than to wait up. I don't require his services at night."

"Very good, sir. And shall I tell Leah that Miss Fairfax will be up directly?"

Cristina shook her head. "No, thank you, Perryman, but it isn't necessary.

I'll wake Leah when I get there."

Perryman nodded. "Very good, miss."

"Come along. Perryman," Lady Wethering instructed. "I'm old and tired and eager to get into bed and sample my nephew's expensive brandy." She waved good-bye and Blake couldn't help but notice that despite her words to the contrary, his aunt took her own good time negotiating the stairs, Perryman hovering at her side.

"I thought they would never leave," Blake breathed, reaching out to pull Cristina to her feet. "Let's see if we remember where we left off." He tilted her face up to his and briefly covered her lips with his own, before moving from her lips to her cheekbones, then the tendrils of hair framing her flushed face. He pressed his lips against her temple and the corners of her eyes, gently closing her eyelids as he planted soft kisses there. Inhaling the sweet jasmine scent, he nuzzled her hair and kissed the pulse points behind her ears before working his way back to her mouth. He nipped at her bottom lip. He tangled his fingers in her hair and used the pads of his thumbs to massage her temples gently.

The motion of his thumbs and the feel of his mouth against her skin was hypnotic. Entranced, Cristina moaned low in her throat and pushed herself closer. He reciprocated by pressing his hips fully against her, allowing her to feel all of him. Cristina tightened her grip on him, surrounding herself with the feel and smell and taste of him as she deepened the kiss.

Her eagerness thrilled Blake, excited him, spurred him on as he used his tongue to blaze a trail of fire across her delicate collarbone, down the path between the firm young breasts to the smooth silk that hid the hard, tantalizing peaks of her firm young breasts.

She reveled in the delicious sensations, unaware that she was rubbing her body against his, shamelessly trying to ease her frustrations.

"Ah, sweetheart, you feel good," Blake murmured before he pulled away to turn out the lamps. He paused long enough to stuff two meringues in his pocket and down half a glass of sherry, then he swung Cristina up into his arms. He could hear his aunt in conversation with Perryman as he hurried past her room and past Cristina's room. He didn't pause until he reached the bedroom at the far end of the second floor hall--his bedroom. There he bent down and carefully placed Cristina in the center of the massive bed.

Blake fought to control his need. He struggled to go slowly. He didn't want to rush. He wanted to savor each sensation, to enjoy the moment, to make love to Cristina with style and grace and finesse, but his fingers worked feverishly at the fastenings of her dress and petticoats as he hurried to strip off her clothing that hid her from view. He kissed her as he worked at the laces and tapes and ties of the multitude of garments she wore and his hot, burning kisses seemed to blister her lips with its fire and to run unchecked throughout the length of her body. She answered his kisses as she pulled him down onto the bed beside her, begging him without words to quench the fire he ignited inside her.

"I've wanted this moment from the first time I saw you," he whispered against her lips as his kisses suddenly changed and became soft, gentle kisses that embedded themselves in her soul.

He touched her body with reverence and awe and a degree of tenderness that affected Cristina in a way nothing else could. She felt safe and secure and protected for the first time in years. She felt cherished, as if she were the most important person in all the world, and she wanted the feeling to last forever.

"What's happened to the ice maiden who's been living here for the past few weeks? Has she finally melted?" he teased, covering Cristina with those soul-stealing kisses. "Your hair and your temper give you away, my sweet. You make a rotten ice maiden. There is so much passion in you and I want to enjoy every bit of it. Now. Tonight."

She didn't care--so long as he continued to touch her. She sighed at the feel of his lips spreading a trail of moist heat along the column of her neck and down to the rosy peak of a breast. Logic escaped her and Cristina let herself be swept along on the crest of the intoxicating new emotions engulfing her. She was acutely aware of him--the rough feel of his evening clothes against to her uncovered flesh, the taste of sherry on his lips and the heat of his body, which penetrated his clothing and warmed her from without, while his kisses warmed her within. And suddenly she wanted to feel more. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers. She wanted to caress his anus and neck and back and feel the heat of his flesh without the barrier of his clothes. She wanted him naked and pressed against her. She wanted him to fulfill the promises his mouth made to hers. She wanted him. And so Cristina let go of his hair, then twisted and turned, and bucked against him as she worked her hands between their bodies, clawed at his shirtfront, and pulled at the onyx studs on the front of his shirt.

"Cristina?" Blake ended the kiss. He looked down at her, studying the expression on her face, trying to gauge the depth of her passion. He caught her hands and held them gently within his grasp. "Sweetheart? What is it?"

"Want."

"What? What do you want?"

"You," she told him. "I want you."

Blake grinned. He let go of her hands, rolled off the bed, and began to undress. "Then you shall have me," he announced. "All of me."

Cristina stared up at him, her eyes widening in surprise as he bared himself to her. He stood tall and proud, broad-shouldered, and slim-hipped, like a Greek god come to life. No, Cristina thought dreamily, not Greek. He exhibited none of the effeminate qualities she remembered from paintings and Greek sculptures--he was completely masculine, all male. His flesh was hard-muscled from years of riding and mountain climbing and the sun had turned his skin a rich, golden brown. A thick mat of dark, curly hair covered his broad chest, snaking downward over his flat belly in an arrow that directed her attention to that mysterious member which stood firmly and undauntingly erect, proclaiming his desire for her. He was extremely attractive in clothes, but without them, Cristina found, he was devastating. He was a beautiful man and for the moment, he was all hers.

The possessive thought surprised Cristina, excited her, and pleased her enormously. She wanted him and she wanted this--this sensation that threatened to drown her. She wanted Blake beside her in his huge bed, holding her, loving her.

She didn't need to worry about a repeat of that other frightening episode.

There would be no reason to bloody his nose. He had awakened her desire and only he could slake it.

"Satisfied?" His husky chuckle startled her, making Cristina keenly aware of the fact that she had spent the last few seconds admiring him.

She felt the red-hot rush of color flood her face and turned away from his intent gaze.

"Don't hide from me, my sweet. It's perfectly natural for you to be curious about a man's body, even though it isn't half as mysterious as yours." He leaned forward and traced the contours of her face, his fingers carrying tiny electric charges that sent shivers through her. "Look at me, Cristina. Don't be afraid. There is nothing for you to be afraid or ashamed of. I'll be very gentle and I'll do my best to make it good for you. To make it right and beautiful. That's the way love should be for the first time. It should be beautiful and wondrous and it should mean something to the man and woman involved. I want you to enjoy this, Cristina, the way I'll enjoy it." Once again Blake surprised himself by speaking of love. What did he know of love?

What did he remember of love? It had been so long since he had experienced it.

Yet every time he opened his mouth he was talking of love and beauty and gentleness. What was it about Cristina Fairfax that made him think of love?

And what made him yearn for the wistful, nostalgic, half-forgotten feelings she aroused?

Blake touched the rosy point of a breast and a shiver shot through them both. "Feel, Cris, feel what we do to each other."

Feel? She couldn't do anything except feel the lovely sensations sweeping through her as he touched her highly sensitive breast. All she could feel was his warm breath on the back of her neck as he placed tender kisses along her neck and shoulders. Her pulse raced through her body and her breath came in quick, little gasps. Feel? She wanted nothing more.

Blake gently pressed her back onto the warm mattress. His lips touched her skin and his mouth seemed to be everywhere at once--branding her with his own delicious kind of fire while his hands roamed over her body at will, lighting little brushfires along the way, completely melting any resistance she might have offered. She writhed under his experienced hands and moaned in mindless pleasure.

"Put your arms around me. Let me feel you next to me," Blake demanded huskily.

Cristina obliged, wrapping her arms around his waist, luxuriating in the feel of the dark, curly hair on his chest as it tickled and teased the excited tips of her breasts. She delighted in the feel of his warm body nestled so close to hers, the smooth feel of his back and the strong muscles rippling beneath her questing fingertips.

Cristina sighed and snuggled closer to the hard, male body and her wriggling closeness was almost Blake's undoing.

"Easy, sweetheart, I'm more than ready and we've got plenty of time. Let's enjoy it." Blake began to pay homage to her body in earnest, using all the skills of lovemaking he'd acquired over the years. And they had never been put to better use.

Cristina responded wholeheartedly, giving pleasure as well as receiving it.

She learned quickly and she eagerly practiced her newfound skills on her willing tutor. She forgot everything except the exquisite joy of making love with Blake Lawrence.

He was in heaven. He had never dreamed she would respond to his touch in such a way. She was liquid passion flowing through his veins, teasing, coaxing, encouraging him to new heights of desire. He ran his hands over her rib cage, softly counting each rib until he reached the underside of her breasts. He caressed them, feeling the weight of each globe before journeying to the rosy tips and caressing them with the pads of his thumbs. He leaned over and kissed her lips once again, tasting the sweetness that was Cristina, fencing with the velvet roughness of her tongue as it followed his. She moaned and Blake surprised himself when he recognized his own deep baritone echoing her wonderment and pleasure. He tore his lips away from hers and blazed a trail down the hollow between her breasts, following the path to her beckoning navel. His hot tongue lavished attention on the small indentation in her stomach, exploring the shape, feeling the texture, before traveling still farther. His warm breath tickled the cluster of curls at the juncture of her thighs and Cristina's whole body jolted at the contact.