I lied. I love you.
Fear stifled the words. She willed him to hear them anyway.
“Come here.”
The command was imperious and dark—like nothing that she had ever heard from him—and there was a part of her that wanted to run from it. To close and lock the door between their chambers and hide from him until he had returned to normal.
At the same time, she wanted to submit to it.
He drank again, his blue eyes not straying from her.
Daring her to refuse.
Daring her to accept.
She wanted him.
The thought propelled her forward. Once by his side, she was transfixed by his gaze, by the cool gleam there. She wanted to shake him, to bring back the vibrancy that had been there all afternoon. The love that had been there.
He did not move for long moments, and she wondered if he might reject her, ultimately, sending her away and refusing to touch her again. The silence stretched into an eternity, devastating. And just as she was about to turn and leave on her own, he moved.
He leaned forward, reaching for her and pulling her to him until she stood between his thighs. He put his face to the soft roundness of her belly, breathing deep, pressing his open mouth to the silk there. His hands stroked up along the outside of her thighs, around to cup her bottom, pulling her to him as he moved his mouth to the place where the core of her was covered by the fabric.
The feel of his hot breath was too much; she put her hands to his head, threading her fingers into the thick sable strands, and curved her body toward him, cradling him with her whole being.
He lifted his head then, running his hands up to cup her br**sts, finding the darkened tips beneath the fabric, teasing them with his thumbs and fingers until they were hard and aching for him. And only then, when her breath was coming in harsh, shaking pants, did he give her what she wanted—taking one hard nipple between his lips and suckling through the fabric, alternately worrying with his teeth and licking with his tongue until the fabric was wet and plastered to her breast. He repeated the process with the other breast until she cried her pleasure.
The sound spurred him on. He stood, bringing the hem of her gown with him, lifting it up over her head, baring her to his pale blue gaze. He lifted her, and she wrapped herself around him as he carried her back to her bedroom. He dropped her onto her bed, following her down, covering her with his warm body. She clawed at his shirt, eager to have it gone, to have him against her, and he let her pull it from him as he slid down her body, placing hot, moist kisses along the center line of her, at the indentation at the base of her neck, between her br**sts, down her torso and across her soft stomach.
He eased her legs apart and she did not protest, instead moving to accommodate his wide shoulders as he pressed her against the bed and spread the downy folds that protected the heart of her. When he set his lips to her, he gave no quarter, working his tongue and teeth in a rhythm that pulled her off the bed with the pleasure of it, and she was crying out within seconds. His tongue was wicked against her, fast and furious, unwilling to accept anything but all she could give.
She shattered beneath him, screaming his name as he thrust one, then two fingers deep within her, reaching a spot that she had not known existed, that sent her over the edge once more.
He was above her then and, with a single thrust, inside her, taking her, leaving nothing, his movements deeper and more intense than anything she had felt before. He pushed her to the edge again almost instantly, and she was begging for release, begging for the climax that only he could provide. He held her there for an eternity, until she was crying his name, pleading with him for resolution.
He took her mouth in a scorching kiss, deeper and more passionate than anything they had shared before, and he reached between them, setting his thumb to the place where everything seemed to begin and end. He thrust deep, spilling inside her, and she was lost, flooded with emotion, able to think only of him.
She whispered his name as she came apart in his arms.
After a long moment, he lifted himself from her. She reached for him as he moved to the side, wanting to share the aftermath of their earth-shattering event.
He was gone from the bed before she could touch him, lifting his shirt and pants from the floor and leaving the room.
She sat up, calling out to him as he closed the connecting door firmly, shutting her out.
Regret came quick and painful, and she realized that he had not spoken once during their lovemaking.
Twenty-one
Lesson Number Nine
Nurture your mystery.
Once you have piqued your lord’s interest, consider spending time away from him to encourage his suit. One need only think of the annual foxhunts across our fair land to know the savage urge to hunt that even our most gentlemanly of gentlemen harbor deep within.
Be the fox, Dear Reader, and do not fear!
These skilled hunters will track you down!
Pearls and Pelisses
June 1823
Isabel barely slept, finally giving up on the idea and making her way to the kitchen. She was standing over the stove, watching the kettle, when Kate came in just after sunrise.
Isabel did not look up from the water, lost in thought, wondering what she could do to repair the damage that she had done to her marriage the night before.
What kind of a wife ruined a marriage on the first day?
Your kind.
She resisted the answer, watching the little bubbles form on the bottom of the pot. Perhaps she could convince him to take another ride today … perhaps they could try again.
Perhaps she could find the courage to tell him that she loved him.
“You know what they say about watched pots,” the stable master said, opening a cupboard and pulling out a biscuit tin.