An Affair in Winter (Seasons Book 1) (12 page)

She lifted her pelvis to his, moaning softly as she grabbed for his shirt. She unhooked the buttons with shaky hands and pushed at the fabric, nearly tearing it as she parted it and revealed his chiseled chest.

He shrugged out of the garment and then went back to kissing her. Heated, claiming kisses that began on her lips, but then he dragged his mouth to her throat, to the edge of her robe. His hand found the knot and he made swift work to open it. He licked lower, all the way to the scooped neckline of the nightgown beneath.

She felt like she was on fire and he was the one making her burn. But she also knew he was the only one who could grant her relief. And she needed that. Now.

He nudged a knee between her legs and she opened without argument, sighing as he shoved her nightgown up past her hips and then settled in the cradle of her thighs.

He was still dressed, but the hardness of his cock bumped her entrance as he tugged the neck of her night rail down and revealed one breast. He sucked her hard nipple between his lips and swirled his tongue around and around the peak until she was writing beneath him.

She managed to wedge a hand between them and found the flap of his trousers. With so little room, unfastening it was a challenge, but she managed, and he hissed out a sound of pleasure as she tugged the fabric away and wrapped her hand around his erection.

He pulled from kissing her and stared down at her. Their gazes locked and suddenly there was nothing else in the world. She could hardly breathe as she guided him to her entrance.

“Rosalinde,” he whispered.

She ignored him and lifted her hips, pressing him inside of her one glorious inch. He took over after that, sliding all the way inside in one long, heavy stroke.

They moaned together as he fully seated himself. Though it had only been a matter of days, Rosalinde felt she had been deprived of his touch for weeks, months. She was shaking as he began to move, rotating his hips as he took her one short stroke at a time.

She braced against him on every thrust, digging her fingers into his bare back as pleasure swirled between her legs, rising and lifting until she jolted with an orgasm. He grunted at the feel of her body flexing around him. His thrusts increased as her pleasure crested, and he slammed against her just a few more times before he withdrew and spent between their sweaty bodies.

He collapsed on top of her, his lips against her neck, his arms around her back, his sharp, panting breaths slowing to meet her own as they lay together in the afterglow of intense passion.

Finally she opened her eyes and stared up at the crisscrossed pattern of the exposed wood beams on the ceiling high above. The reality of what she’d done hit her and she buried her face into his shoulder with a shuddering sigh of both pleasure and self-recrimination.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered against his flesh. “It was wrong.”

He pushed away from her, getting to his feet to tuck himself back into his trousers and search on the floor for his shirt. She also sat up, drawing her tangled nightgown over herself and retying her robe.

“It didn’t feel wrong to me,” he said as he buttoned his shirt. His eyes never left her. “It felt as good as being with you the first time did.”

She bit back a sigh at those words. At his steamy look. This was not a man who regretted anything. Since arriving here, she’d heard enough about him from his family to know that was true. He had that luxury, given the family he came from and the money he’d made with his various ventures. She had more to consider when it came to the potential of a scandal.

And yet she shut her eyes and nodded. “Yes, it did,” she admitted softly.

She felt his fingertip on her chin, tilting her face up, and opened her eyes. He was leaning over her, his face dangerously close to hers.

“Then why stop?” he asked, every word seeming to take an eternity.

She pondered the question. She had so many reasons to stop. That he had so much more control than she did was one reason. That she didn’t trust him. That this was too wild, too dangerous. That she feared what would happen when he tired of her at last. That she feared what would happen if she never tired of him.

But those things, as powerful as they were, did not rise too loudly to the forefront of her mind. Instead, she thought of Celia and the promise she’d made to her sister. And in truth, Rosalinde thought of her own pleasure. Being with Gray would bring her more of it. So much more.

“I don’t want to stop,” she croaked out. “I may be a fool of the greatest kind, I may be a wicked wanton with no sense of right, but when I look at you, all I want is for you to put your hands on me like you did tonight.”

His eyes widened like he was surprised at the candor of her response. She supposed she was surprised by it, too.

“I’m glad of it, Rosalinde. During our dance tonight, I was afraid you would refuse me, calling on honor and propriety to shield you. That you want me as much, that you are willing to trust me with your body, means a great deal to me.”

She shrugged. “I know I shouldn’t trust you,” she whispered. “But all I could think about after you left me with my grandfather tonight was what would happen if I said yes to your offer. And what would happen if I turned away. I couldn’t sleep with such thoughts pounding in my head. It’s how I ended up here, searching for something to quiet my mind and let me rest.”

“You found me instead,” he drawled, sliding his thumb along her jawline until her body felt hot and shaky.

“Technically, you found me,” she whispered. “And without a word, you made me see exactly what my decision had to be. No question, no doubt, I had to be with you. I’m certain you judge me for that.”

He shook his head. “I don’t. I felt the same way. There was something about you, from the moment I met you, that made me forget everything I had ever promised and vowed. It made me a slave to animal hungers I once foolishly told myself that I could control. With you, I cannot.”

“Is that true?” she asked in wonder. “Could you really want me so much?”

“How could you not be certain after what we just shared?” he said with a short laugh. “Certainly you have been wanted before.”

She turned her face, thinking of her husband and his attentions. Yes, he’d been gentle at first, but once he realized his fortunes wouldn’t be increased by their marriage as he had hoped…well, her pleasure had gone by the wayside. He hadn’t wanted her, not really. He’d only wanted what she could provide. When that was gone, everything had been broken.

“Never like this,” she whispered, just barely keeping her voice from cracking in pain.

He hesitated, searching her face like he was seeking some kind of truth. She bent her head so he wouldn’t see it. Trust him with her body? Oh yes, she would do that. Trust him further? It would take a fool to not see how utterly dangerous that would be.

She rose to her feet, dodging his touch and his glance as best she could. “So what will we do now?”

He stepped away from her, and his voice was gruff as he said, “Steal time, just as we did at the inn. It will be more challenging here, but I think it will be worthwhile.”

She nodded. “Yes, so do I.”

He moved toward her, and her heart leapt as he slid his fingers into her hair, tilting her face so that he could kiss her deeply, passionately. Her toes curled, her body heated, she melted like ice in an inferno. But he didn’t continue the encounter. Instead, he let her go.

“Your sister will wonder where you are,” he said as he turned her toward the door and pressed her toward it. “You’d best go as to not rouse her suspicions.”

Rosalinde walked away as he was encouraging her to do. He was right, after all. They had taken a risk to make love in a public room like this one. She’d have to be more careful in the future.

But as she reached the door, she stopped and turned toward him. He was rumpled now, his hair tangled by her fingers, his shirt wrinkled from being torn away and tossed aside. He didn’t look like a gentleman anymore. She doubted she looked like a lady.

“Goodnight, Gray,” she whispered, smiling at him one last time before she slipped away toward her bed.

And though nothing had truly been resolved between them, she felt lighter than she had since her arrival. Everything had changed. And she would never again be the same.

Gray took a long breath of cold morning air before he urged his horse forward and dashed past Lucien. He heard his brother’s laugh, so rare now, and then Stenfax thundered past him in return. They did this back and forth a few times, playfully racing each other. Of course, Gray knew the competition would get more serious as they neared the lake ahead. That was their traditional finish line.

As predicted, with the lake visible in the distance, both men urged their horses faster, faster. Gray pulled ahead, his heart racing with triumph, as the last hundred yards became the battleground. He would have whooped in victory, but seemingly out of nowhere another horse appeared. It was Felicity, who had been riding behind them, above all their games. Even riding sidesaddle she flew by and reached the water’s edge before her brothers.

Gray patted his horse’s side and muttered, “Next time, boy.”

All three got off their mounts, laughing and panting as they let the horses roam off to drink and rest and graze.

“Do I win something?” Felicity asked as she adjusted her hat over the blonde hair she’d inherited from their mother, rather than the dark tresses her brothers shared. “Or is it just boyish bragging rights, as usual?”

“I could give you a farthing,” Lucien suggested with a bark of laughter. “But it’s all I have. You and Gray have far more money in your coffers between you.”

Gray’s smile fell even though his brother was teasing. It was no secret that the Stenfax reserves had been dwindling for some time. Their brother had inherited gambling debts and the poor management of three generations before him. Lucien was working to recover what the prior earls had so foolishly squandered and he still refused to take help from Gray, who had built his own small inheritance back into a fortune, or Felicity, who had inherited quite a sum herself when her viscount had mercifully breathed his last.

Of course, their brother’s stubborn desire to fix things on his own was exactly why Lucien was poised on the edge of a dangerous precipice with Miss Celia Fitzgilbert. Gray scowled.

“Lucien—” he began.

“Oh Lord, he’s about to start,” Lucien said to Felicity. “Look at his face.”

Felicity smiled softly as she turned to look at Gray. “He does have a certain expression that says he’s going to start acting like the older brother instead of the middle child. That’s our Grayson, trying to save the world.”

Gray scowled at the playful words of his siblings. “This is nothing to jest about. You talk easily about the financial situation of the title, but I know it weighs on you. Without the troubles, you might not have ever chosen such a title hunter as Celia.”

Felicity moved on him, her smile gone. “For heaven’s sake, Gray, enough! Not only is Lucien well capable of making his own decisions, but you judge Celia Fitzgilbert too harshly. I’ve spent time with her in London as well as here, and she is a lovely girl.”

“Her ambition doesn’t trouble you?” Gray asked, tapping his boot.

“Not when it is made so plain,” Felicity snapped back. “She is not pretending.”

“Unlike Elise, you mean,” Gray said, ignoring how his brother recoiled at that hated name. “Yes, I agree, Celia is open as can be about her desires when it comes to Lucien. She could hardly be less interested in him and shows no romantic inclination whatsoever. I have seen him hurt before. I’ve seen you
both
hurt before by the decisions you made in spouses.”

Both his siblings flinched and Felicity spun away with a soft sound in the back of her throat. Gray hated to make them relive their worst moments, but if the reminder of past suffering would help him save Lucien from a desperate and irrevocable mistake, it was worth it.

Lucien stepped toward him, hands fisted at his sides and face red with more than just the cold air. “Damn it, Gray! Did it ever occur to you to ask
why
I chose Celia?”

“The money,” Gray said flatly.

Lucien shook his head. “No, you ass, it’s
not
just the money.”

“Then what?” Gray threw up his hands in frustration.

“I don’t want any of the damned romantic entanglements you say Celia doesn’t show. She and I are clear on what we both want. On what we expect from each other.”

Gray huffed out his breath. It seemed Lucien had an answer for everything. “But doesn’t it make you question her character that she is so driven to marry a title and title only? And if there is a crack in her integrity in that arena, what others could exist?”

“You think Celia is walking around with a passel of secrets tucked in her reticule, waiting to pop out and hurt Lucien’s reputation?” Felicity faced him again, her eyes wide and bright with unshed tears.

Gray rocked back at the sight of them and clenched his hands together behind his back. What his brother and sister didn’t know, at least not yet, is that was
exactly
what he feared. He’d even launched an investigation back in London to address that very concern. He’d hoped to have some answers before he departed for Caraway Court, but when that hadn’t panned out, he’d arranged to have a friend who was attending the wedding pick up his investigator’s report before he made his way to the country estate.