Miss Foster’s Folly (11 page)

“You’re not going to be my mistress but my wife.”

She took her hands off him and huffed. “This is getting tedious.”

“That’s the only way you’ll have me,” he said. “You might as well accept the fact.”

“All right. It seems I’ve lost.” She sighed, picked up the wretched cloak, and put it on over her small clothes. “I’ll leave.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t do anything like that,” he said. “I’ll take you back to the Mitfords’.”

“Now, really. Are you going to wake up your coachman and make him hitch up a gig just to take me that short way?”

She had a point there. And it would take some time to get a cab. “I’ll walk you back.”

“In dangerous London? And then have to come back alone?”

“If you managed, I can do it.”

“But you’d have to wake up one of Lord Mitford’s servants to get me in, and that person would probably talk among the other staff.” She tsked. “Quite a scandal.”

“I’d sneak you back in the way you got out.”

“But I won’t tell you how I did it.” Good Lord, for a moment, she looked as if she’d stick out her tongue at him.

He started to say something, but the only thing that came into his head was the threat to spank her, and that hadn’t frightened her the first time.

“Very well,” he said finally. “I always have a guest room made up. You’ll stay there.”

“Thank you.” She gave him an elaborate yawn. “It has been a long day.”

He had to agree there. Orchid sex in the afternoon followed by the real thing in the evening. Or a close approximation of the real thing.

“Take that candle, and I’ll show you the way.”

One lone candle hardly lighted more than a foot or two in front of Juliet, but she’d come this far and wouldn’t give up before she reached her destination—the Marquis of Derrington’s bedchamber. She’d opened several doors only to find cold silence inside. Typical of him to put her as far away from him as he possibly could, but she’d find him, and when she did, she’d get what she wanted.

She tried another door and found another empty room, curse it. That left only one more before she’d have to double back and check them all again.

The moment she turned the knob, the sound of breathing told her she’d found him. The tone was deep and masculine, just like his speaking voice. Dark. Sinful. The mere fact that she’d found his bedroom sent a little thrill through her. She tiptoed inside and closed the door silently behind her.

Now that she’d come so close to her goal, she’d allow herself some anticipation of her victory. And of her reward. Derrington was everything any woman could want in a first lover. Handsome, gentle, and oh, so talented with his hands and mouth. If any man could make her ready to accept the bulk of his cock inside her, this man could.

And he would. Now.

She crept to the bed. He’d set his candle on a table there, so she lit it with the one in her hand. That gave her a bit more light to study him, and she gasped. His arms and shoulders above the covers were naked. Did he sleep in the nude? He might have some type of pants covering his lower regions, but men usually wore a nightshirt.

Oh, my. Oh, my, my. She stood, drinking in his male beauty. Besides never having looked at so much male flesh before, she’d also never watched a man sleep. With his eyes closed and his features relaxed, he looked almost innocent. His chest rose and fell gently with his breaths, his lips parted as they had been when he’d kissed her the first time. Dark hair framed his face, and she carefully reached down to touch one lock. Warm silk against her fingertips.

He seemed a creature of myths and dreams, so entirely foreign to her experience he might have been another species. And yet, nature had made their bodies to fit together in the most basic way. Miraculous, really. She’d waited so many years for this—from the day she’d turned marriageable age until she’d grown too old to attract multiple offers and then to spinsterhood.

She’d find some way to please him, despite her lack of experience. Honestly, she shouldn’t care, as she wouldn’t stay in London once she’d known him. But somehow it did matter that she could do a good job of satisfying him. She didn’t have feelings for him. Not at all. Feelings complicated things. She’d have this one night with him. They’d both remember it for as long as they lived, and then, she’d exit his life for good and follow her own adventures.

Oh, hell. Why was she worrying about something like this now when every inch of her body had gotten so close to what she wanted?

He gave out a soft snort and rolled over, clutching his pillow against his chest and presenting the width of his back and the spread of his shoulders. Suddenly, he appeared huge, even though he stood only a few inches taller than she did. What did she know of men’s bodies? More important, what would she learn in the next few minutes?

She set her candle next to his and took a steadying breath. She had removed all her clothing except for her chemise. That would come off easily enough. It pooled around her feet on the floor as she stepped out of it. The chill of the night air made her shiver, so she quickly lifted the covers and slipped into the bed. His body’s warmth clung to the sheets, surrounding her. He must have had a furnace in him to produce all that heat.

And yes, he was completely naked. Her hip snuggled up against his bare bottom. How odd it felt to lie with him this way and yet how right. Even in marriage, she’d wear something to bed. Decency would require that he do the same if he was to sleep with her. No wife with any sense could bear to send a husband to another room if he felt like this next to her.

She ought to wake him up and get things going, but why rush this heaven? Maybe if she touched him softly, she could feel his flesh without waking him. She’d never get the chance again, at least, not with this man. Besides, she’d need to know her way around a male body if she were to pretend to sophistication.

She started with his shoulder. Broad, strong, firm. His skin was softer than she’d expected of a man. Smooth and stretched over the firm muscle beneath. From there, she traced her palm over his shoulder blades and along the furrow down the center of his back. When she reached his buttock, she savored the firmness of it. She’d called his cock magnificent when, in truth, the word described all of him.

Suddenly, he turned over, and his arm flopped on top of her. She bit her lip before a cry escaped, but he roused. For a moment, his eyes opened but didn’t focus properly. Then, they closed again and he was everywhere on her. His weight pinned her to the mattress and his mouth captured hers. No niceties, just a savage kiss as if he’d devour her.

Finally. She’d come for this. She answered with her own mouth, although she could hardly keep up with the pace of his caresses. His hands moved over her, stroking her flesh, molding her body to fit against his own. Just the friction of their bodies was enough to ready her for the joining that would follow.

“Yes, David,” she whispered against his lips. “Yes, oh yes.”

“What?” He propped himself on his elbows and shook his head. Finally, his eyes came into focus. “Bloody hell, Juliet. What are you doing here?”

“Making love with you.”

“God’s teeth!”

“Don’t fight me, David,” she said. “We want each other. It’s unnatural to deny ourselves.”

He did want her, too. The evidence against her thigh proved that fact beyond a doubt. He’d become aroused, his member full and long, stamping its hot imprint into her flesh. As hot as the rest of his body and insistent. It belonged inside her, satisfying them both.

“Of course, I want you, you little fool,” he said. “But not like this.”

“What’s wrong with this?” she nearly shouted. “We’re together, in a bed, naked. What could be better?”

“You could be my wife, not some woman who sneaked in here like a modern-day Cleopatra.”

“I’m not some woman.” And the idea that she might resemble Cleopatra was laughable. Or would be, if she felt the least bit like laughing.

“That’s my point.” He stared down at her, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. It had to be a trick of movement of fire and shadow, but for a moment his gaze revealed something from inside him. Heat, yes. Desire, certainly. But something else lay behind the obvious. An emotion—dark and bright at the same time, real and true and frightening in its intensity. For a moment, her heart seemed to stop and then thudded in her chest, and she could happily have slipped out from beneath him and skittered off to hide. No man had ever looked at her that way before, and maybe, no man ever would again.

The light shifted, and the illusion disappeared, leaving nothing but the handsome rake who challenged her and tormented her. Then his gaze softened. “I want you, Juliet Foster. Why can’t you believe that?”

“Then take me.”

“It isn’t that simple. Believe me.” He closed his eyes in supreme frustration. “Perhaps some day you’ll understand.”

Oh, she understood, and he had no monopoly on frustration. This whole thing—what she’d thought would be her triumph—had turned into an utter disaster. He wanted her. Even he wouldn’t deny that. But he didn’t want her enough to get past some ridiculous scruple about taking her virginity. He’d rejected her. Again. She had to give up on him once and for all. Really, she did.

Just as she’d recovered enough dignity to throw him off her and slink back to the guest room, he lowered his face to hers again. This time, he brushed his lips over her forehead in a whisper of a kiss. He did the same with the tip of her nose and then took her mouth again.

As much savagery as he’d used before, now he matched that with sweetness. He took great care to favor every corner of her lips. Her heart soared again as she kissed him back. She’d known his mouth a few times now and had learned how to answer his caresses. This time, she could run her palms over his shoulders and revel in the texture of his skin and the firmness of the flesh beneath.

His hands moved, too, first stroking her hair back from her face and then cupping her jaw. He released her mouth and tipped her head backward, stretching out her throat. Now, he nibbled along the length of her neck and then lowered his body along hers as his lips went to the top of her chest.

She knew his destination now, and her nipples tightened in anticipation. As wicked as the contact had felt hours earlier, their nakedness added a dimension of carnality impossible for an encounter behind a shrub in a dark garden. Now, his body moved over hers with nothing separating them. His hard chest pressed against her breasts as his hands explored her ribs and traveled to her waist. For her part, she could measure the width of his back with her fingertips and even scrape the nails softly over his skin.

He took forever getting to his destination, and when he did, he used his hand to massage one breast while he circled the other with his tongue. Even the underside received his full attention. Her flesh seemed to swell and blossom for him, growing heavy and sensitive. By the time he finally took the nipple into his mouth, she’d already surrendered to him.

Whatever he did now, she’d allow it. Moisture had collected between her thighs, and the gentle ache there became a throbbing. He knew how to soothe the burning there, and he’d do it. He might nearly kill her with the slow pace of his progress, but he’d give her the same intense pleasure he’d done earlier. She only had to wait.

He removed his mouth from that nipple and took the other one. The first had tightened into a bud, and he teased it with his finger, drawing circles around it while he sucked the second and used his tongue to press it against the roof of his mouth. She couldn’t hold back a moan of approval as she sank deeper into a world where the sensual ruled and nothing mattered but the next touch, the next sigh, the next tug of his lips at the tip of her breast.

“David,” she crooned. Nothing could say more than his name. Those two syllables held a world of need and delight. “David.”

“Juliet.” He burrowed his face into the furrow between her breasts, now kneading both with his fingers. He made no move upward to take his position between her legs and guide his cock into her. Neither did he work his fingers between her legs as he had earlier in the garden. Instead, he kept up the pressure against her breast as he slid lower along her body.

He pressed kisses over her belly and then went down and down, easing her legs apart.

The lips of her sex became extra sensitive and seemed to swell, as if they knew his intention. More wetness oozed from her, coating the lips and the tops of her inner thighs. Unbelievable.

When he finally touched her at that most intimate place, she sighed, and her hips jerked upward in shock.

“What perfume,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I could come just smelling you.”

“Touch me again.”

“I can do better than that.” He nuzzled his nose into the hairs that covered her sex, and his intent flashed through her brain.

“David, you can’t,” she cried. “You mustn’t kiss me there.”

“Why ever not?”

“I’m so wet. It’ll be unpleasant.”

“You’ll taste like caramel. Trust me.”

“Oh dear—” She managed those two words before his mouth closed over her sex and all sanity fled.

His tongue lapped at the petals of her sex. Slowly, from back to front and then back again. She went limp, her legs falling apart. If she’d thought to put up some protest, she lost any power to try now. She could no more push him away than she could will her heart to stop beating. Instead, she reached down and tangled her fingers into his hair to savor the small movements of his head as he continued his assault.

Her body had no trouble accepting the miracle of having his head between her thighs and his tongue between the folds of her sex. Every part of her became warm and liquid—her very bones melting from the inside out. Her pearl hardened into a tight point at the center of her universe. That scrap of flesh knew what to expect, and it burned at the apex of her thighs, waiting for his touch.

He grazed the underside with his tongue, and her body stiffened as a cry tore from between her clenched teeth.

Too much. Too much. How would she ever survive this?

He waited for a second before he touched her again. Gently, but the contact sent the same current through her nerves.

Faintly, she became aware that she’d dug her fingertips into his hair, holding his face against her. She needed this. Craved it. Would weep with frustration if he stopped.

He didn’t, of course. He pulled her legs up and over his shoulders, grasped her hips in his big hands, and went back to devouring her.

This time, she was ready for the power of his caress and could allow herself the pleasure. He stroked her bud more firmly than before. Pressing, pressing, while her heart raced and the tension coiled inside her. Not much more and she’d snap. The end became inevitable. That word he’d used—she’d
spend
.

Now, now. Oh, now.

When he took the nubbin between his lips and tugged at it, she flew past the boundary. A tide rushed through her, cresting, until it broke into an enormous wave that crashed over her. She shouted as another followed it, even stronger. Her whole body shook as it continued, her sex pulsating rhythmically.

He didn’t release her pearl until the storm had run its course. When she’d finally finished, he pressed his face against her thigh. His own body jerked violently a few times, and he released a muffled roar into her flesh. After a bit, he went limp on top of her, moaning.

Finally, normal breath returned, although she couldn’t have lifted an arm if she’d used all her strength. Neither of them moved. Her hand still rested on his head. His nose still burrowed into her thigh. Soft and even, his breath warmed her skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen asleep,” she managed to whisper.