The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (22 page)

“Those things you did for Freddy, you did them for Silas Chapman?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

James flushed hot with jealousy. “But he didn’t do the same for you?”

Insensitive to ask, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“He wanted to. I would not allow it. He stopped asking.”

“What did he do for you?”

“Well, he touched me. I could not, do you understand? I could not. So I pretended my pleasure.”

“You didn’t pretend for me.”

She shook her head.

“Why the difference?” He lay behind her.

“Because things are more.”

“More? More what?” He caressed her hair with a light touch.

“More profound.” Her voice trailed off sleepily; however, she was not yet asleep. James let his head come to rest against the thick mass of her curling hair. For a long time he lay there, ignoring the insistent throb of his erection whilst softly stroking her hair and inhaling the redolence of lavender and her womanly scent.

Jasmine would suit her better.

It was his last thought before sleep claimed him.

Chapter Fifteen

At the sound of masculine humming, Sunny awoke, and she opened her eyes, trying to focus in the dim light. A sense of comfort, of intense well-being, glowed within her. But something more. A burgeoning sense that something good was about to happen. An adventure, waiting for her to experience it. She sat and flung the bed curtains aside. Candlelight illuminated the chamber.

James stood at the washstand, dressed in his banyan, sliding his razor over his cheek. She held her breath. She had never witnessed a man’s morning toilet. Silent as she could be, she watched him shave, feeling the intimacy of the moment. Enjoying it immensely.

He splashed his face then dried it vigorously with a towel. He glanced up in the mirror, his expression changing, letting her know he had caught sight of her.

Her heart sped up. A smile tugged at her mouth but she held it down, not knowing what his mood would be.

He turned.

He beckoned her with his hand. “Come, love, stand for me.”

At his commanding tone, she caught her breath. A little thrill chased down through her belly. Her legs went weak. But she arose from the bed.

He simply stared at her.

“What time is it?” she asked, hearing hoarseness in her voice.

“The night is very old.”

“Oh.” The wind howled outside and the walls of the inn rattled. She hugged her shoulders and glanced about, wondering how sturdy the walls really were. “From the outside, this inn looked far grander than it has turned out to be.”

He gave his face another wipe with the towel then tossed it down to the washstand. He grinned at her. “Just how experienced are you with coaching inns?”

Her heart began to beat very fast. Her wits scattered as though the wind outside had blown them askew. She didn’t know what to say. As it turned out, she was quite familiar with inns and clandestine meetings in rented rooms.

James watched Sunny’s face take on the expression of a hare caught in a trap.

Damn. Damn him to hell.

Why had he said that? Why hadn’t he been more mindful of who he was speaking to?

Because he’d been distracted by the sight of the firelight passing through her thin nightdress. Obviously, she had met with Silas Chapman in rented rooms. That much was clear from the change in her expression.

He had to know.

It was insensitive, but he had to know. “Did you meet with Chapman in rooms like this?”

She nodded, still running her hands up and down her upper arms.

Yes, he had known, inside, that she must have done that. Where else would she have met with her lover?

But the duplicity!

She had to have had plotted, planned and lied to those around her. “Sunny, you took a terrible chance.”

Her face crumpled and she closed her eyes, nodding furiously.

“The scandal. It would have ruined you.”

“I know,” she said, her voice very small.

Such a scandal would have touched and affected the whole Blayne family. Her parents. Her sisters. God, his own sisters and their young daughters, soon to be launched in the marriage mart.

Sudden realization of just how self-consumed Sunny was capable of being hit him like a blow.

Her pedestal was forever knocked down.

Smashed to bits.

His heart felt broken into bits, lying amid the rubble of that pedestal. All this time, since he had first seen her again, he had clung to the hope that the others had been mistaken. That Sunny herself was mistaken. He’d wanted to believe in her purity.

Her virginity had given him reason to hope.

Now he could no longer deceive himself.

Sunny was—no! He wouldn’t put a label to it.

But why had he asked?

He hadn’t really wanted to know.

Now he couldn’t stop himself. “Sunny, you met with this man, alone in rented rooms. For the purpose of bedding with him?”

She nodded. Her face flamed red.

“But you’re still a virgin?”

“I could no’ give him my virginity. I-I just could not. I don’t know why.”

“But you say that this man was your lover?”

“There are other ways to make love. I told you already.”

Those words, whispered softly, settled over him like whisky into flames. An image of her, on her knees before the English servant, seared into his mind.

She still stood before him, her head slightly bowed, her eyes tightly closed and her face flaming. The firelight accentuated every curve of her lush form.

He had but one thought.

“Sunny.”

“Yes?”

“I want to see your body, bare.”

Chapter Sixteen

I want to see your body, bare.

James’ words burned into Sunny’s mind. She hardly dared breathe. Anticipation and apprehension alike pressed too hard upon her, constricting her chest. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

And she wondered if she had heard him correctly at all.

“I want to see all of you, front and back.” His voice was terse.

“Goodness,” she said. Her wits had returned enough for that much speech at least. Her heart’s beat increased rapidly. From shock, from trepidation.

From delight.

“Take off the nightdress.”

Elation swept her head to foot. She flashed him one last look, fluttered her lashes and gave him a most provocative smile. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the hem of her gown and paused.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

The terseness in his voice caused her heart to leap into her throat.

“Don’t what?” she asked.

“I am not in a mood to be teased. Not by you.” God. That look in his eyes! Her heart pounded into a dizzying beat. She quickly pulled the garment up and off over her head. Cool air assaulted her immediately. Her nipples hardened into stiff peaks and gooseflesh erupted all over her.

From the chill?

From nerves?

Or excitement?

“Go stand by the hearth.”

He spoke so harshly!

She tried to control her quickening breaths.

“It’s warmer there and I would see all of you.” He spoke more gently, but there was steel beneath his tone.

On legs gone a little rubbery, she walked to the hearth, aware of how the firelight better illuminated her body to his view. Oh, she wanted him to lust for her, to admire her. She placed her hands at the base of her neck, threading them into her hair and lifting the mass of it. Then she flexed her body in a sinuous way.

“Catriona.” He put a warning into his tone.

A small shudder raced through her. Heated blood seemed to stream into her lower belly. Wetness flowed between her legs. Her nub grew erect, so erect.

“Turn to face me.”

She caught her breath at his impatient tone, and wondered what he might do if she refused. The memory of his hand, spanking her soundly that first night at Blayne House, sprang into her mind. Her mouth went dry as her arousal increased. She was strangely tempted to test him.

But why should she want to be disciplined by him? Oh, but she did. The wetness between her legs increased along with the tension in her loins.

Yet, she was also afraid that if she delayed, he might change his mind and once again decide to play the honorable gentleman.

She complied with his order and met his gaze. His blue eyes were so darkened by desire, she knew that despite his terse impatience, he had greatly enjoyed the view so far. She clasped her hands behind her bottom and, aware of how hard her nipples were now, how bright cherry red they appeared, arched her back and let her breasts jut out proudly.

Admire me, lust for me.

The words resounded through her with the intensity of a prayer.

His gaze swept her.

She began to tremble. Oh, what was he thinking?

His expression gave no clue.

But she hoped, oh, how she hoped, he would come to her and put his arms about her. Press his hard body to hers.

He turned from her and walked to the bed then sat. “Put your hands behind your head and clasp them there.”

It was not a request. It was an order. Desire wound through her lower belly. Her nipples tightened. She liked him giving her orders.

“Turn for me.”

A fresh volley of desire flashed through her belly like fiery sparks.

“Go more slowly. Yes, that’s a good girl.”

His last two words sent an explosion of those fiery sparks into her loins. Her knees threatened to give out. A nervous little giggle escaped her. She looked up to flash him a glance.

“Keep your eyes down.” His voice was terser now.

She immediately complied, then felt a little disconcerted by how quickly she’d obeyed. Completely flustered. Her heart was pounding now. She was getting so wet. She stole a glance through her lashes.

He had arisen from the bed and was now shedding his banyan.

Her heart beat harder than ever.

He approached her.

She swallowed. She wanted to speak, to say his name, to utter a plea for reassurance. But excitement held her throat immobile. She couldn’t have uttered a word to save herself.

“Kneel for me.” His voice was velvet over steel.

Her knees weakened even more and she swayed on her feet. He clasped her shoulders. “Kneel for me.”

Her legs seemed to collapse beneath her. He held her shoulders, supporting her as she sank to her knees. The fire blazed warmly yet shivers consumed her. Not from cold but from the delicious sense of utter surrender.

He held his cock.

She understood. But excitement still held her frozen. Her hands were still trembling.

He moved closer, brushed her lips with the crown of his erection. Fluid gushed from the tip, wetting her lips. She opened her mouth, wide, moved forward and took him in. Smooth-as-silk flesh slid over her tongue, throbbing hard heat. God, he tasted divine. She had missed this. But he kept pushing in and what started as pure pleasure quickly became a test.

Yes, she’d done this before, with Freddy.

With Silas.

But James’ girth stretched what felt comfortable to her, what she had been accustomed to accommodating. It was a challenge she struggled to meet. Yet, it was also so exhilarating, she began to feel a bit lightheaded.

He threaded his fingers into her hair, trailing shivery sensations in his wake. Gooseflesh spread down her nape, down her back. A little shudder tore through her. She moaned deep in her throat.

He thrust forward.

He was so huge, she gasped at the shock of it, the sound muffled by his girth. Yes, she had seen him before. But to feel it in her mouth, that was something more real, wasn’t it? Oh, her heart was thudding so hard now. Could he hear it?

He pushed deeper.

She hurried to swallow but gagged slightly.

He held still and murmured something, lightly caressing her cheek whilst maintaining his hold on her hair.

She nodded and moaned, the sound muffled.

He grasped her hair more firmly, tilting her head back a little more, and he pushed deeper again.

She swallowed, with purpose, with determination not to disappoint him this time. He thrust deeper, deeper. She swallowed, trembling all over with her efforts to be what he expected. What he needed.

He had stilled.

She wanted to tell him that he needn’t hold back. That she wouldn’t disappoint him now.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice terse yet tender all at once.

She shook all the harder. From effort, from excitement.

“You must indicate to me.”

She tried to nod but the position was difficult. Drool ran down her chin, down her neck. On instinct, she grasped his buttocks, feeling the steel strength of his clenching muscles, and gave him a firm squeeze.

He thrust deeper.

Oh God! Never before had she felt so stretched to her limits. Her blood sang with joy.

He groaned, the sound deep and rich.

She should begin sucking him, begin moving her head. But her breath was coming so fast, her body shaking so hard, she couldn’t move.

He gripped her hair all the harder, sending dull pain over her scalp, down her neck. He withdrew, almost all the way, then thrust forward. She could feel the power of his hips, his thighs, the power coiled within his muscles. She could feel how he held back and measured his force to what she could bear.

Thrills raced through her, sending a hot-cold shivery feeling from her head to her toes.

He withdrew and thrust again. And again.

More of those thrills consumed her. Wetness flooded between her legs, sliding down the insides of her thighs.

He thrust over and over and over, pushing her limits. Stretching her ability to give. Neither Freddy nor Silas had taken control over this act in such a manner. James was holding her to his will, using her as suited his need

She hadn’t even imagined it being like this. A man taking such charge.

She adored it.

His breathing sounded harsher and harsher. His grip strengthened on her hair. His thrusts grew quicker. His cock jerked. She could feel the pulsing within his shaft, pumping, rhythmic against her tongue, within the confines of her throat. His hot come jetted into her throat and she hastened to swallow. And swallow. And swallow. He kept coming and her whole being thrummed with the joy of receiving this oh-so-thrilling evidence of his satisfaction.

He groaned and withdrew from her, still half-erect. His body shook and he dropped to his knees beside her, panting harshly.

He looked at her and put a hand to her cheek. He closed his eyes. “God.”

His voice resounded with emotion. Exactly which emotion, she wasn’t sure. Some measure of surprise?

Yes, definitely surprise.

Pleasure. Oh yes, pleasure.

She had never felt a greater sense of her own womanliness. Her own power to please a man.

His breathing quickly became more regular. He touched her shoulders. “It’s cold here on the floor.”

She laughed and heard her nervousness in the sound. What did one speak of after such a moment? Yes, she’d been intimate with men before, but this had been so different. He had taken her totally. Completely. She had submitted to him wholly. Now she didn’t know where they stood. And she longed to ask him but wasn’t sure this was quite the moment to do so.

He stood then bent and reached for her and lifted her up into his arms, then carried her to the bed.

James had vowed to treat her with tenderness.

Tonight, when he had seen her standing there, sleepy-eyed in her nightdress, in his bedchamber just as though she were his mistress and he had a right to her. He had longed to see her body. Bare in the firelight. Just to look. Not to touch.

What madness!

As though a man could look at a form so luscious, so perfect as hers and not want to touch her? It had been her artless sensuality, her obvious pleasure at displaying herself, and her doing so with a complete lack of affected coyness, that had proved his undoing.

He had vowed to treat her with tenderness.

But he’d taken her quite roughly.

The jealousy within him had demanded that he have what others had already taken from her. That jealousy had driven him to take her fiercely.

And yet she had responded beautifully to that roughness, to his every demand. He could tell she’d been surprised but not unpleasantly so. Did her response matter? She was a lady and he knew better than to treat any lady like that. No matter his inclinations or needs in the moment.

He turned away from her, intending to go and fetch her some watered wine.

“James.”

Her voice was soft. Pleading without being insistent.

He turned back to her.

She lay there on the faded velvet coverlet, the play of the flickering firelight making her hair shimmer with enchanted tones of gold and orange. Her lips were swollen and deep red, her nipples hard points as bright pink-red as raspberries.

She was more beautiful than any portrait of womanly perfection that his dreams had ever dared paint.

His cock, which hadn’t fully relaxed, began to harden, lengthen.

She parted her legs wide and slid her hand down and used her fingers to spread her outer lips, opening herself to his view. Her core, deep pink with arousal, glistened with wetness.

He wanted to drop to his knees between those luscious thighs and bury his face in her tantalizing cunny. To smell her. Taste her. Thrust his tongue into her hot, wet sheath.

But he couldn’t do that yet. She wasn’t ready for it. “Touch yourself, sweeting.”

At first, she tentatively brushed her fingers over her flesh, her movements stiff, unnatural.

But he sought to encourage her. “That’s beautiful, love. That’s the most beautiful thing.”

She released her breath, a loud sigh. She visibly relaxed, the softly rounded swell of her belly rising and falling more naturally. She began rubbing her nub with gentle yet more determined strokes, her strokes becoming circular and faster, faster. She arched her hips and writhed, moaning as her fingers worked her flesh faster, more firmly.

He walked to the bed and sat beside her.

She glanced up at him. Her eyes were glazed, lost in her passions. Her pleasures.

“Freddy?”

The name startled him. Rankled him. Made him hotter than fire with jealousy. He forced the feeling down and fought for control. Some instinct told him he must take care. There was something not quite the thing here. Something related to her whole emotionally fragile condition. She didn’t need him responding with jealous anger. He must remain more aware of her needs and less focused on his own. He caressed her hair off of her face. “Not Freddy, sweeting, ‘tis James.”