Lisette (9 page)

He nuzzled her stomach and came back up for
more kisses.

They could have been anywhere and it would
not have mattered. The crude tavern room was nothing. They were two
lovers tasting and exploring.

Her body hot, Lisette leaned up and pushed
him back. She kissed and stroked him. Her hand covered his groin.
She broke the kiss, raised, and stared at him.

He had to pull himself out of the haze to
notice it. Elisha eased her hand away and slid up, finger combing
his hair back before he shifted again, to pull the sheet over his
lower half. He held her gaze while he worked his trousers off. He
had his legs free of it, the sheet draped over his cock.

* * * *

Lisette could sense his tension. She found it
curious since it wasn’t particularly a sexual tension. She peeked
downwards, viewing the tender skin of his lower stomach—a
beautifully hard male stomach, and very strong limbs with faint
black that hair. At the thigh, they seemed smoother, but the muscle
was defined.

On her knees, she leaned, began kissing his
stomach, and could feel his hand touch her back, her hair. He
touched as if he were being careful not to hurt her. He was feeling
her with his palm and fingertips. It was heady. She enjoyed his
scent while her hands felt and touched everything he exposed. It
heightened her own arousal.

Smoothing a hand down and around to his
buttock, she met his leaden gaze. “Your body is magnificent,
Elisha.’

Face tense, he shuddered. “I’m glad it
pleases you.”

Lisette nudged him. He rolled to his
side—

Truly, the man astounded her with sinew
perfectly wrapped on his long form. He had a rounded derrière and
lean side. A fan of sculpted muscle in his chest and back. His skin
was dusky looking and hot to the touch. Lisette leaned, kissing the
side of his neck, then his buttock, at the indented side.

She went down his side and up his back,
caressing and kissing, breathing unsteady because it aroused her
beyond explaining.

He groaned and reached back, cupped her head
and turned his, so they could kiss long and deep.

“Lisette.” He breathed out harsh while she
bit his ear and reached around to rub and chaff his nipples.

“Elisha.”

He moaned and tugged her almost over him, her
knees against his back, so he could suckle her nipples. Braced to
hold herself up, she registered his harsh breathing and looked down
to notice his hand was under the covers... stroking himself.

Easing her body back she started to touch him
there, but his molten eyes caught hers, and he rolled to his back,
one knee bent while his fingers found her sex.

On her knees, she moved her hips as he thrust
his tawny finger slowly in and out of her. She found the place to
rub higher up, her gaze gliding from his face to that fist under
the sheet.

Their breathing escalated. He pressed deeper.
When she climaxed and it contracted on his finger. Lisette
collapsed against him shuddering, knowing when he gathered her to
his chest that he had climaxed too. His heart under her ear was
thundering deep.

* * * *

They were dressed again, refreshed from a
pitcher and water bowl on a small table, drying with a strip of
linen lying beside it.

Seated on the bed, her boot heel hooked on
the side slat, she watched him smoke his cheroot by the open
window.

“If you were invited to Wimberly in the
spring, will you come?”

A nerve tensed in his hard jaw. “If I can. I
am in the country from March until late April.”

“Where, at your estate?” She found the
stillness in his profile intriguing, though somewhat
disturbing.

He put the cheroot out. “We should be going,
in case the weather turns. You leave the way you come in. I’ll meet
you on the road.”

She got to her feet slower than he did,
observing him putting on his coat. That remoteness in him was
something she counted on to hide their encounters, and yet it
bothered her. There was something more to it.

He held her coat for her. While she slipped
it on, she asked quietly, “What is Smith’s real name?”

She felt his reaction long before she turned
to regard him, her coat open and her hood still back. He had time
to hide his surprise at her question, but not to banish all the
guardedness in his gaze.

He cupped her cheeks to lean down and kiss
her. When he lifted from it, his thumbs stroked her skin. “I did
not set the boundaries of this…whatever we have. You did. I don’t
think it wise to bring other emotions into our encounters.”

She murmured, “I like you.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “I’m glad you
do. Nevertheless, the games, as enjoyable as they are, as much as I
could live for them—they are only physically enjoyable for you.
You’re not ready to tie yourself to any man and it establishes
another level of intimacy when one opens ones private life to
another.”

“I think we’d be excellent friends.”

Something terrible came into his eyes, and
for a moment, his whole face seemed to become wreathed with pain.
“I think so too, Lisette, but have some mercy on me. I am
desperately trying not to fall in love with you.”

“Elisha.” She reached out when he dropped his
hands from her and stepped back.

However, he remained out of her reach. His
hands in his coat pockets. His were eyes growing cooler and more
distant.

“You can trust me with anything you desire,
Lisette. If I can come to you when you want me, I will. You know
that I will.”

She felt her stomach drop. Her heart was
hammering too loud. Lisette dropped her hand heavily. She could not
push. She had drawn these lines.

She put up her hood and left.

They met on the way, and rode side by side,
the horses blowing mists in the cold air. Having pushed back her
hood, she glanced at him on and off, putting pieces together that
were still missing too many pieces.

It was terrible, now that they had been
intimate, seeing him so distant. It was terrible—imagining that he
was in some—pain—some torment and could not unburden himself. She
had always felt his need for her touch, but she suspected it was
not the physical kind per se, but rather something deeper.

The horses were so close, her knee brushed
his, and when Elisha glanced at her, she offered, “I care for
you—very much.”

He brought the horse to a halt.

For moments, they were like that, stopped,
and just staring at each other.

At length he supplied, “His name is Drew
Vaien...”

“Why?” Her eyes were observing his face,
tense, the expression becoming more guarded. “Why does he use
Smith?”

“I can’t tell you, Lisette.” He looked away
and then back to her, and then rasped, “Real life is not a
game.”

“I know that,” She retorted strongly. “I’m
not a frivolous woman.”

“I didn’t mean in that manner exactly.” He
sighed and looked up and shook his head.

She did not like the way he was looking at
her now—as if he was making a difficult decision. She was afraid
she knew what it was.

“You want me to trust you. You can trust me
also, Elisha.”

He was still shaking his head. “You don’t
know what you’re asking.” He dropped his chin down, and then kneed
the horse so they were riding again.

Before they reached Wimberly, Lisette was
feeling a very real sense of panic, trying to define her emotions
and her feelings toward him—not wanting to sound as confused as she
was. It was new to her, the attraction, and the more intimate
Viscount.

“Come in the spring, Elisha. I want to have a
better visit with you than last time. We can ride and fish—and be
more relaxed around each other.”

His eyes turned toward her. They had reached
the crossroad where he would go on to Wolford. “Don’t give me that
kind of hope, Lisette. I do not mind being your lover. I would beg
for it. But keep the boundaries clear, for my sake. Be blunt. I do
not want you to fear offending me. I want you to tell me the truth,
no matter what. Do you understand?

“Yes. But I don’t understand you.” Her eyes
were burning with tears. His emotions were black and cold, almost
ruthless—towards himself. “What is wrong? What have I done?”

“Nothing. You are heaven itself.” He reached
to cup her by the nape. “You are the sun and wind, the warmest
fire.” He husked, “Don’t let me change you, Lisette. Don’t let me
make you weep.”

“—Elisha…” She was weeping anyway. Something
was wrong!

He leaned down and kissed her hard, almost,
brutal so that it left her mouth tender and bruised.

Elisha wheeled the mount and left her.

Her gloved fingers touched her lips. Scalding
tears rolled from her eyes. Lisette sat there a long time before
she headed home. Once home, she lingered in the stable with her
hands at the top of a stall door, forehead resting against
them.

Her emotions were in chaos. Her body felt
heavy.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

She lifted her head, staring at the hay
strewn in the stall. “I’m fine, Samuel.” Lisette dashed more tears
from her eyes. She could not go in until she calmed herself.
Lisette turned and tried to avoid the probing gaze of the driver,
but knew he had taken it in anyway. “I’m going for a walk,” she
murmured.

“One of the lads will go with you,” he
offered worriedly.

She always walked by herself and knew where
that concern came from. She was not the sort to mope or cry, or be
upset for long. Nevertheless, this was a woman’s confusion, and a
woman’s pain…

“I need to be alone, but I will be all
right.” She left, taking a rambling route to her favorite spot in
the woods, aware that one of the lads was likely close by.

Wind chilled her wet cheeks and scraped her
lips—lips that still tasted him. She could not find solace there
either. Her mind was hearing his words, seeing his expressions; her
body felt his pain. What was it? What did he need? What wouldn’t he
share, or give himself? Why?

At some point, Lisette was too cold to remain
out of doors, and huddled in her coat, she walked back to the
house.

“Lisette! What on earth.” Her mother saw her
as she was crossing the hall. “You look frozen. Do you want to take
to your sickbed again?” The duchess hurried to her, putting an arm
around her, touching her forehead. “What were you thinking, staying
out all day in this cold? What has gotten into you?”

“Please don’t fuss, Mama.”

Having been walking with her like that up the
stairs, the duchess stopped and took her by the shoulders, her keen
blue eyes looking over her face before she panicked. “Oh, dear God.
Did something happen to you? What happened? You’ve been
crying.”

Lisette was weeping again. “Nothing perilous
happened. Please, Mama.” She pulled away from her and shook her
head. “No one harmed me.” Lisette turned and hurried to her
room.

Her mother called out, ordering the maids to
prepare a hot bath. She gave Lisette time to take it, and dress in
her warmed flannel gown and robe, before she showed up with
tea.

“Here. My own special blend.” She pressed the
tea into her hands.

Hair braided and sitting up in the bed,
Lisette took a drink with her eyes were on the fire. “I’m not ill.
I’ve not been hurt.”

The duchess reached and smoothed her hair
back. “No. I figured as much out after my panic subsided. I know
you would tell me otherwise.”

Drawing up her knees, when her mother lowered
her hand, Lisette wrapped her arms around them. Her mother was
seated on the side of the bed near her, observing her face
closely.

“Why did you think Marston would do for me?”
Lisette asked quietly

Her mother murmured, “Ah, that is right, he’s
at Wolford’s, isn’t he.”

“I need an answer.” Lisette glanced at
her.

“Intuition.”

“What do you know of his family?”

“Well.” The duchess placed her on cup on the
nightstand. She then took Lisette’s hand. “Not much. Only what one
discovers in society about others, that comes from talk, and there
was never any of the Marston’s. They were all very—aloof. I know
that the Viscount’s father passed a few years ago. He has a mother
and sister. However, they withdrew from society then. Not that I
can describe either one.”

The duchess winced. “I fear I was concerned
with my own interests and did not attend much of what others were
about.”

Lisette nodded but gazed down at her mother’s
hand. “But why me, particularly, did you feel you had to match—and
why him?”

“I love you, Lisette. When I was very young,
I was confined much the way you were to your sickbed. Therefore,
when I realized I would be wed to your father without meeting him,
save the day of our marriage, or without having my freedom, I
resented it. Nothing your father could do made me really see him. I
resented him, and he knew it.

For many years, it ruled my actions and his
reactions. I will not repeat what you already know, but the thing
is, I understood your passions were strong. I wanted a strong man
for you. One who could be your equal? But also—as strange as it may
seem to you, I understood your nature—your loving nature—and for
some reason, the moment I met Marston. It just felt perfect—the
idea of you and him together.”

After a moment, she supplied. “Of course, I
expected your resistance. Everyone reminded me how you should make
your own choices, and I agree. But I thought… well, it doesn’t
matter now, because I was wrong.”

“I never gave him a chance,” Lisette
admitted.

“I know that too,” Her mother confirmed. “But
you are a woman grown, and as one myself, I realize that sometimes
mistakes are necessary. Pain is. Sometimes, what love can’t do,
pain can. I had hoped it would not be some useless fellow you broke
your heart for.”