With This Kiss (26 page)

She looked back to find him watching her.

“Why did you come here?” he asked.

Gathering her courage, she ventured hesitantly, “If you’re not too busy, I thought we might do something today. Together. As man and wife.”

He released a bored sigh. “What did you have in mind, a waltz? Ordinarily I’d indulge your whim, but as you can see, the orchestra has temporarily abandoned its post.”

“I’ve missed you.”

The statement hung in the air between them. Morgan studied her face for a long moment. “There is a term in fencing for toying with one’s opponent.”

“Are we opponents?”

“Are you toying?”

“I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe. I’ve never met a more purposeful woman in my life.”

A small smile touched her lips. “Is that good or bad?”

“What do you want, Julia?”

She couldn’t remember him ever using her name before. The sound of it rolling off his tongue sent an unexpected rush of pleasure racing through her. Idly wondering if his reaction would be the same if she spoke his name, she said, “I thought it might be nice if we spent a little time together, Morgan.”

She saw something flash in his eyes, but the emotion, whatever it was, vanished too quickly for her to properly define. “Ah. So that’s it.” A small, cynical smile curved his lips. His gaze moved over her body with scorching intensity, as though he were able to see right through to her drawers. He straightened and glanced around the empty room, then back at her. “Interesting timing.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I didn’t mean—”

“Didn’t you.”

“Certainly not. Must you always be so base?”

“You’re the one who came to me.”

“With the simple proposition that we attend Lord Attmark’s boating party this afternoon,” she said, seizing upon the sudden inspiration. “That’s all I had in mind.”

“Lord Attmark’s boating party?”

“I thought it would be quite diverting.”

“Floating along a river that smells like rancid sewage in this sweltering heat. That’s what you came to see me about.”

“Yes.”

A knowing smile curved his lips. “Liar.”

“I don’t know what—”

“Liar,” he repeated softly.

The word brushed against her hair, as warm and silky as the lightest of caresses. Advancing with every retreating step she took, he moved closer and closer until she felt the wall against her back. Panic tumbled with excitement as his body loomed mere inches away from hers. Although she hadn’t consciously acknowledged it until that very moment, she had wanted more from him than mere companionship. Was he truly so experienced that he could read her thoughts with such amazing accuracy, or was she embarrassingly naive and inexperienced? An interesting question, but one she would have to ponder at length some other time. At the moment it didn’t matter. She relaxed back against the wall, closed her eyes, and arranged her lips in what she hoped was a seductive pout. She tilted up her chin and waited, ready to receive his kiss. When she felt no response, she opened her eyes in bewildered disappointment.

His smoky gaze searched hers. “Why the sudden change of heart, princess?”

“Does it matter?”

“It shouldn’t. But I have an analytical streak in me that is difficult to quiet.” When she didn’t reply, he continued coolly. “Let me see if I can guess. You were lying alone in your bed, dreaming of your phantom lover again. Alas, fate has torn him away from you. Now that that’s nothing but a hopeless dream, you’ve decided to content yourself with me.”

“Jealous?” she returned, looking for some indication that he might have come to care for her, however petty and possessive that indication might be.

“You do like to invent your little dramas, don’t you?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might want you?”

He gave a small, humorless laugh. “Yes, beauty, it is. But don’t worry. I won’t let that stop me.” Wrapping his arm around the small of her back, Morgan pulled her to him. His touch was light at first, a mere whisper of a caress that made her breath catch in her throat. He skimmed his fingers up her thighs, over the smooth curve of her hips and the tight band of her waist. Then he drew his hand over her ribs and gently cupped her breast in his palm. Julia drew in a sharp breath, astonished at the feelings that ricocheted through her at his intimate touch. His embrace was entirely shocking, and yet somehow appropriate. A mere prelude, she suspected, to what was yet to come.

No sooner had she recognized that when Morgan shifted slightly. He slipped his thigh between her legs, gently pulling her body forward so that she was straddling his knee. She grasped his shoulders for support as he moved his leg up and down between hers, softly rocking her against him. The steady, rolling motion between her legs set off a chain of reactions within her. Heat radiated through her belly as her breath came in short gasps and a series of small tremors shot down her spine.

His hands moved over her body once again, but no longer with the light, gentle caress she had experienced earlier. Instead he touched her with a fierce possessiveness, as though he was a master sculptor and she was made of clay. He boldly massaged her breasts, her hips, her waist. He ran his hands down her spine, cupping her buttocks and pulling her ever closer to him, until she could feel the shocking length of his erection against her thigh.

She had barely accustomed herself to that sensation when he leaned forward, pressing his lips against the satiny skin exposed by the bodice of her gown. He kissed her breasts, her collarbone, and the nape of her neck, using his mouth to explore the very places his hands had caressed only moments earlier. Julia tossed back her head to allow him greater access, running her fingers through his dark, silky hair as he nuzzled his cheek against her skin.

Lifting himself slightly, he murmured into her ear, “With the right lover a woman can realize her passion over and over again, one time after another. Have you ever experienced that?”

“No,” she managed breathlessly.

“Then we have a goal, don’t we, princess?”

Giddy arousal collided with nervous anticipation at his words. He tightened his grip on her body, as though intent on melding them into one. Her dress was made of lightweight cotton, a fabric so thin, she could feel the heat of his skin through her gown. The barrier it provided between them was almost nonexistent. In fact, it quickly proved to offer no protection at all. Morgan slipped his hand beneath her skirts, running it up her leg until he reached the smooth expanse of thigh exposed between her stocking and her drawers. Letting out a low murmur of appreciation, he began to rhythmically stroke the velvety band of flesh.

She stiffened instinctively at his bold touch, but Morgan didn’t retreat. Instead he lowered his head, slanting his lips over hers. Applying the slight pressure of his jaw, he coaxed her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Rocking her against him once again, he established a swelling pulse to their kiss, one that mimicked the soft sway of their bodies. Then he returned his hand to her breast, gently kneading it beneath his palm.

Within the dim recesses of Julia’s mind came awareness that something was wrong. She pulled back slightly, distancing herself from the heady rush of sensation that had engulfed her only moments earlier. It was all happening too quickly. Morgan had moved from coaxing to taking. There was no roughness in his touch — her husband was too experienced a rake to make that mistake. But neither did she feel a lover’s tenderness. Instead he exercised a seductive mastery over her. Moreover there was a harshness in his kiss, as though she were an enemy that had to be conquered rather than a lover to be wooed.

What she had wanted most was missing. In her mind, she realized, she had imagined this moment before. She had imagined taking the place of the other woman in the garden. She had imagined Morgan’s touch, soft and gentle and coaxing. In surrendering herself, she had longed to fill the emptiness that had existed between them. She had ached for abandonment, losing herself in his touch. Instead she was acutely aware of his every movement. They shared mutual lust but nothing deeper.

She stiffened slightly, resisting the very touch she had craved only moments earlier. It was as much her fault as it was his, she realized. She had come to him wanting something, needing something, and now she would turn him away because it wasn’t quite right. Knowing that if she did so, the cycle of estrangement and frustration that existed between them would only deepen and worsen. Or she could suffer through it and not come to him again. Neither was a very palatable option.

She had simply expected too much from him. Or had she? The thought suddenly struck her that that wasn’t the case at all. Occasionally she had seen glimpses of a different man. A man who wasn’t harsh and cynical. A man who touched her with tenderness, who spoke to his servants with respect, and who laughed with his friends. Surely there was some part of him she could still reach. Some remnant of his former self that hadn’t been completely destroyed by the fire.

To that end she decided to throw caution to the wind and show him what she wanted. After all, she had rehearsed her response so many times in her dreams. What harm could it do to ignore the reality of what he was offering and touch him as she wanted him to touch her? With that in mind she drew back slightly, turning away from his kiss. She ran her hands over the breadth of his chest, experiencing a heady thrill of sensual power as she felt his muscles stiffen beneath her fingers. She stroked his body with a soft, healing touch, intent on learning the rugged beauty of his frame.

Continuing her bold exploration, she leaned forward and touched her mouth to his neck. A light film of salt brushed her lips, a taste that was both highly erotic and evocative of the swordplay she had witnessed. Thrust, parry. Advance, retreat. A game with a rhythm so like their own. Moving ever forward, she kissed the red, puckered scars that marred the skin at the base of his neck. She felt him stiffen beneath her and try to pull away, as though experiencing an unwelcome jolt of surprise.

But Julia refused to retreat. She kissed his neck, his cheek, his chin, then pressed her lips against his. Exercising the same mastery he had shown, she gained entrance to the warmth of his mouth. Their kiss deepened and grew, moving from lustful conquest to searing intimacy. She felt Morgan respond, giving a low moan of approval as his hands moved caressingly down her spine and over her buttocks.

Julia abandoned her original purpose of deliberately gentling her husband’s touch. She was no longer leading, nor was he following. Instead they had come together to establish a scorching rhythm all their own. One sensation melted into another. Desire built within her, engulfing her in a wave of selfish pleasure. The more he gave, the more she wanted. She was aware of nothing but his hand on her thigh, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, and the heady intensity of their kiss.

It was as though Morgan had tapped into some rich vein of feeling she had never known existed. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the carnal bliss that surged through her. The masculine scent of his skin, the strength of his arms, and the rock-hard solidity of his thighs — everything about him enticed her completely. She felt overwhelmed, yet had no desire to stop. She could almost feel herself sliding down a steep slope into a mysterious morass of pure feeling and sensation.

Then, like a strident noise interrupting a blissful dream, a steady knocking encroached upon their embrace. Julia willed herself to ignore it, but the annoying sound wouldn’t go away. Morgan must have been aware of it as well, for after a moment he drew back, ending their kiss. He gently set her off his thigh, holding her for a moment while she regained her balance. She swayed slightly, stunned and disoriented at her own wanton abandonment. Yet she also experienced a certain amount of satisfaction, for she had felt Morgan respond to her — if only on a physical level. She might not have succeeded in destroying the barriers that existed between them, but at least they had been fractured a bit.

The knocking continued. Polite, but persistent.

Morgan turned toward the door. “Enter.”

Julia hastily smoothed down her gown as Maxwell, the head footman, stepped inside. Staring straight ahead, he regally intoned, “A Mr. Thomas Fike to see you, my lord.”

“You may inform him that we shall be along directly.”

“Very good, my lord.” Maxwell nodded and retreated.

As the door closed softly behind him, Morgan said to Julia, “I believe we discussed this earlier. I’ve engaged the man’s services to execute our wedding portrait for the main hall.”

She nodded. “Yes, I remember.” She hesitated, not sure what else to say. Surely some remark on their newfound intimacy was in order. But his tone had been cool and perfunctory, so totally unlike the heated embrace they had just shared that it left her speechless.

Morgan bent to gather his sword and glove. “I do hope the man’s artistic ability surpasses his sense of timing.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?” she demanded at last, indignant that he would attempt to trivialize what had passed between them with such mocking indifference.

He studied her in surprise, and then arched one dark brow. “Thank you?”

“Thank you?”

“Apparently your charity knows no bounds, princess. Granting me a taste of the forbidden fruit — how very generous.”

Swallowing her anger, she brought up her chin, regarding him with a look of icy disdain. “My generosity has limits,” she replied tartly, “as does my patience.”

“Indeed? In that event I shall do my best not to excessively tax either one.” He gave a low bow, then extended his arm. “Shall we?”

Refusing his arm, Julia swept by Morgan. Despite the inner turmoil that gripped her, she schooled her expression into one she hoped would reflect perfect domestic tranquility. The household servants could be relied upon for their discretion. But she knew all too well that a stranger might not be. The last thing she needed were rumors floating about touting marital discord between her and Morgan.