One Final Season (16 page)

‘You might be able to manage that titan feat of self-control, my lord, but I can’t,’ she told him, her turn to feel the foreignness of everyday language on her tongue as she wriggled against him as seductively as she could with only instinct to go on, her hands busy again all the while as her fingers tugged incompetently at buttons as if they’d never felt or heard of them before. ‘Ham-fisted,’ she scolded herself grumpily.

‘Just as well if you never seek employment as a valet, then,’ he joked distractedly, but seemed to abandon his over-gallant attempts to save her from herself as he used the gap created by her attack on his waistcoat to palm her firm, high breasts and light another level of conflagration within her.

Through the workaday cambric of a dark morning gown she had no idea why either she or her maid had packed at the time, she felt her breasts seem to rise and swell under his fascinated hands. Nipples already peaked and tingling seemed to heat and pebble even more under his sensitive touch and all she wanted was to feel his skin on hers, his hands hardened and calloused from the reins as he rode these last few days for her, for her hand, for her promises, for her as his wife. But tonight, this was for her as his lover, his woman, his blatant, burning desire for her and hers for him and that had nothing to do with all the pomp and panoply of aristocratic alliances and settlements and contracts and stern-eyed trustees.

At last she fumbled enough buttons free and triumphantly shucked the two halves apart, even making the sacrifice of losing his wicked exploration and the awesome stimulation of his spread palms, and the delicious almost pressure of his fingers padding against her nipples until the quicksilver heat deep inside her was becoming almost an unbearable pleasure pain. She would have twisted her body and pressed her legs together in an attempt to appease it, if his very obvious arousal hadn’t been too temptingly already there and hard against for her to relinquish. So instead she moaned again and her shallow pants of breath made a light descant against the urgency of his deeper breathing as he searched for control of himself and her wriggling and shifting against him in protest made that arousal even mightier.

His turn to forget what buttons and buttonholes did as he fought the wretched things into submission where they ran down her back. Luckily she’d had to helpfully leave some undone when she’d put the dress on, since she couldn’t reach so high up her own back, so at least it didn’t take his fingers as long to learn how to undo the rest again as it had hers. But she was making up for it by divesting him of most of the buttons his shirt had ever rejoiced in before tugging it from his evening breeches and forcing him to stop his attentions to the rest of her wretched gown in order to shrug out of the fine lawn and draw it over his head to throw it somewhere it certainly deserved to be sent for coming between Kate Alstone and her compelling lover’s intriguing torso.

Content to explore the delicious novelty of satin-smooth skin over iron-hard muscle, and play with the light dusting of golden-brown hair that adorned parts of his torso in such an interesting way as she’d never even let herself dream of, she felt him push, persuade and tug her gown off her shoulder, then slide it off her fingertips until even the sleeves finally gave in to his touch and fell away. With the gown a heap of soft fabric at her feet, it took him mere seconds to shuck her out of the flimsy chemise that was all she’d thought necessary for this particular nocturnal visit.

All but naked, she stood a little apart from him to let them both appreciate the fact. Shockingly, she didn’t feel in the least bit shy to have his hungry eyes devour every detail of her as if he couldn’t learn her fast enough or comprehensively enough for his taste. His hands were on her even as her arousal and the burning, wet heat between her legs protested that, whilst she was naked all but for a pair of soft-soled slippers, he was still an impeccably dressed, if very obviously aroused, gentleman from the waist downwards. Then the feel of his roughened palms on her bare skin spun all thought of anything else but the pleasure of his touch away.

The pad of his strong fingers now tantalised her narrow waist, then moved up to rest just below the swell of her breasts and he must be able to feel the shallow breathing the sweet tension of waiting for more provoked in her, because his hands were suddenly warm on her rib cage, almost as if he’d share the very process of breathing itself with her. At last he moved and those tantalising forefingers of his outlined the curve of her lower breast against that rib cage and then went up around to test the rich swell of them without allowing them the luxury of touching her nipples, until she thought she might burst into flame if he didn’t put his hands to work on them at last. Then he was there, still exploring delicately, still with one finger, to outline an amber areola as if describing female perfection, if the awed wonder in his willow-green eyes was anything to go by.

He flicked a fingertip across her pebble-hard nipple and she gasped and lost the use of her legs. Luckily he knew, knew what he was doing, what he’d just done and plucked her out of her fallen skirts and her satin slippers and into his arms, against that delightfully hair-roughened chest, so this time it was her turn to feel his breath stutter and then hurry under her skin, except her skin was not an interrogating, arousing, tantalising digit; it was a peaked and already overheated breast and the vulnerable indentation of her waist and she couldn’t even think to where the curve of her bottom was brushing against him, inviting and anticipating so much more.

‘Stop wriggling, woman,’ he demanded in a voice so husky she hardly recognised it, and promptly wriggled a whole lot more in the hope of hearing it rasped and hoarse with need of her once again.

‘I like it,’ she told him, casting him a look of heavy-eyed invitation she really hoped he couldn’t refuse.

‘Maybe you do, but there’s a time and a place for everything,’ he husked and the sound sent shivers down her exposed spine and made her snuggle against him even more determinedly. ‘And this is it,’ he told her as he set her on the bed and stood a little back to watch her with such a blaze of need and fierce joy in his eyes that she felt any last maidenly qualms melt away unmourned.

‘Oh, it is, it is indeed, love,’ she said softly.

‘Love indeed,’ he echoed and finally shrugged out of his breeches and stripped off his fine evening stockings and kicked his elegant evening shoes into some corner his valet would doubtless tick and tut about in the morning.

Chapter Sixteen

I
f the sight of her had made him gasp, her first sight of a naked man, a living, breathing naked man who, unlike the famous classical marbles at Wychwood, was very obviously and very fully aroused, should at least have made her blush, she supposed, in a brief nod to her otherwise very proper upbringing. He stood, all narrow hips, long strong limbs, leanly muscular torso and wide shoulders, his muscles taut and golden-brown skin stretched smooth and warm over them, and looked at her with eyes that asked her not to find him alien or impossible now they were so far along their road that turning back would probably leave him racked with pain and frustration, as well as doubting them as lovers and unsure of her all over again.

A rush of love hit her and something much more earthy and passionate, and perhaps yes, that was part of love as well, she decided as it scorched through her and she let her awed, delighted eyes meet his and describe it all for her. She met his gaze with all the feminine pleasure she felt in rousing him so emphatically absolutely on display; the urge to move under his gaze like a blatantly sensual wanton shook her for a moment and she considered the more modest alternative before dismissing it and writhing against the silky velvet under her sensitised skin, as if the feel of it might compensate her just a little for the lack of him there instead. She raised a hand to caress the long line of her own waist, leg and hip and heard a feral growl as he sank down beside her, face savage with need and dominant with denial that anyone should pleasure her tonight but him, even if the one doing it was herself.

She gave him a smug smile and a look she hoped said, ‘Well, and what
are
you waiting for then?’ and withstood the answering storm with a delighted welcome. Now his fingers were intent on stoking her arousal as high and hard as his own was obviously driving him, for they didn’t play and tease so much as rouse and imprint her with his touch, his longing, his possession and she revelled in it all. His mouth was ravenous on hers, as if he’d somehow manage to quench years of longing for her into one storm of wanting, for now. She met it, set her tongue to dance and flirt with his, spared a hand from learning his broad back to stroke it down the side of his face as they kissed as if they couldn’t bear to stop.

She knew his face so well, had thought she had his features off by heart, and yet learning them with her fingers was so much more intimate, so much more than just looking. He watched her eyes with his as their mouths melded and moved. She felt the way his taut skin stretched over high cheekbones and lean cheeks, traced his determined jaw as he flexed it to take their kiss even deeper, to tangle up her senses in him even more potently. Willing and active in her own seduction, she raised that finger to trace the edge of one eyebrow, the silky tips of his unfairly lush eyelashes, and her insides melted at the intimacy of it, the power of it. She loved him, and at last she knew it, so she let it show as openly as she could, along with the heat and wanting, the delicious burn of arousal and the thrill of sensual curiosity. Seeing the way his irises contracted, then expanded again as he blinked in the face of her unguarded gaze, she wasn’t at all surprised to feel him shift her against him as if he couldn’t wait any longer, had lost the ability to be infinitely patient with such a wanton virgin when she clearly didn’t want him to be patient any longer.

He lowered his head to trace open-mouthed kisses over her jaw and down the slim throat that stretched and luxuriated in every touch; meanwhile he slid one hand down her waist and spread it over the springy curls at the vee of her thighs, sending a confident finger to explore the hot wetness between her legs, the intimate ache he knew would lie at the heart of her. That touch suddenly seemed a delight and a torture as he stroked and thrust and her body took up a rhythm she hadn’t even known it knew by instinct alone. She writhed against the silky bedcover, tried to lock her legs together to hold back the tearing heat within, but he raised his head from sucking on her mercilessly aroused nipple and his eyes asked for her to trust him, even if he seemed as beyond words as she was.

Reminding herself that she would very likely follow him into hell itself if she had to, she relaxed her muscles, let his wickedly knowing hand work its magic and her head fell back as a melting rush threatened to overwhelm her, even while his fingers drove her even further along an urgent, sense-stealing journey to something beyond any words she had to describe it. Striving against it even as she wanted to plunge straight into that hot compulsion for more, she mewled in protest so he seized her mouth again and echoed the driving rhythm of his fingers against her most secret core and she shattered. Her body plunged and bucked under his touch and her heart pumped and sang as she shot into a new world of shattering pleasure, but she came back from it feeling oddly lonely, fulfilled yet not quite full of joy.

‘Now,’ he promised hoarsely as he positioned her pleasure-soaked body to accept as much of the weight of his as he’d let her, whilst he leaned most of it on his arms and used his knees to centre his rigid arousal at her heated, still-throbbing core.

Nodding frantically as she felt the weight and the potential and the potency of him, she let him raise her knees slightly and splay them to make her even more open for him, then she ran her hands over his striving body as he thrust into her and felt him shudder with delight and relief as she managed to take him, open to him even as the strangeness of being so full, so stretched made her marvel and exult in every extra iota he inched into her. He came up against the barrier he’d been testing for so carefully at last and she waited, trusting him with the taking of her virginity, waiting for it, longing for the loss of it even as she knew it would hurt. Using internal muscles she hadn’t even known she had, she flexed about the fact of his starkly aroused shaft within her and heard him give a great gasp of half protest and half elation as he breached her maidenhead and buried himself in an intimate joining that took the jagged pain away in the sheer marvel of it. Cautiously she learned the full fact of his penetration and the potency of him so hard and deep and broad inside her, and then she met his eyes with wonder in her own and smiled a full, womanly, rather smug smile at him.

‘Witch,’ he told her with love and tenderness in his eyes, as well as what she now recognised as rampant lust, and he withdrew most of his length from her with a teasing look as she gasped reproachfully, then he gave her a wolfish, triumphant smile as he sank into her again and went even deeper this time, until she felt utterly possessed and filled and on fire for more, even while she wondered incredulously how there could be anything more than this.

Which he proved to her there definitely was, with as little treading on eggshells while he did so as she wanted of him. He thrust into her in a surging driving rhythm she learnt and matched and travelled with him as they strove for that beckoning fulfilment he’d taught her already, but this time it would be everything she’d felt wistful for not having the whole of last time, for this time he would be there, too. Kate felt her body begin that spasming of her inner muscles again that this time she knew indicated she was nearly at the peak of all this glory, but now she had his wondrous silky hardness fully engaged inside her to make them complete, drive them on together. He thrust more deeply as the beat of their bodies changed and went deeper and even more driven, until she cried out in desperation before finally, richly, witlessly she tumbled into deeply satisfied glory as he arched over her in an ecstasy that shook through them both with its fierce intensity.

Still taken to that somewhere wonderful he’d taught her was theirs by aftershocks of exquisite feeling, racked with delight such as she’d never dared consider possible even in her wildest dreams, Kate came back to herself with her lover slack muscled, love-shot and gloriously heavy against her tingling breasts as he laboured to catch his breath in her arms and reassemble himself somehow. She felt the delicious weight of him, still passion-dazed as he rested far too briefly on her satiated body and reviewed the last half hour with smug appreciation. Her love, her lover and her future husband stirred in her arms and shifted so he took his weight off her delightfully stretched torso, despite her incoherent murmur of protest. He raised himself from her and tried to disengage fully, until she locked her legs about his waist and refused to part with this new and astounding connection to him, although he was now but half-aroused within her and inclined to be far too gallant to do anything to remedy the matter.

‘I’m too big for you, you’ll already be sore in the morning, my love.’

‘Maybe, but now I want you inside me, and I never want to let you go,’ she told him seriously. ‘We belong,’ she managed to explain herself rather inadequately in her own eyes, but it seemed that he understood her as he flipped her over. She lay splayed over him, still locked together and content to just be so for a while, to feel and preen a little at their own extraordinary cleverness in finally finding each other, then wonder at what they’d just done so thoroughly and so very well every pore and sinew still sang with remembering such an exquisite shock of pleasure.

It didn’t last above ten minutes, that state of half-spent contentment as she rapidly proved how right she was not to heed his warnings while she experimented with that novel position he’d put her in and found it was excellent for rousing half-exhausted lovers into reinvigorated, rampant and demanding ones. Lazily Edmund ran his hands over her hips and cupped her buttocks until he could push her forwards a little, bowed over him until he could recline against the pillows and plunder her breasts like some luxuriating potentate being fed exotic fruit by a doe-eyed houri, or so she informed him when she could find enough breath from panting at the new bloom of hot need his very skilled attentions were rousing in her all over again.

‘Can you ride astride?’ he asked wickedly and she flexed her lithe legs and arched her supple back to show them both that she could indeed.

It proved to be the most exciting and mutually satisfying form of exercise she had ever discovered. They were both far more breathless at the inevitable lovely end of it than she’d ever been from such a wholesome, almost innocently illicit pleasure as riding astride over the peaks and moors, when she was told she was far too old to run wild over her grandfather’s estates in such a hoydenish fashion. Now she reflected, as she finally felt him disengage from her, then felt him tuck her slack and utterly relaxed body against him with a contented sigh, she knew that had been her way of keeping wild Kate Alstone alive until she could safely be herself again in her lover’s arms. With a richly satiated murmur of assent she felt those arms close about her, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of parting from her any more than she could of leaving him, as she surely must now the dawn was already lightening the sky.

‘Why, my Kate?’ Edmund asked her at last.

‘Because there wasn’t another way to let you know how I feel and have you believe me body and soul, Edmund,’ she told him as she thought back to the very moment last night when she’d known she had to go to him. She’d had to prove that she now loved him absolutely, passionately and with every wild impulse and wayward emotion she’d smothered and denied for so long.

‘I might have taken your word for it,’ he told her as he ran his silver-green gaze over her as if he couldn’t help looking and looking again, just to make sure she wasn’t a very fevered fantasy, or a delicious, desperately dear dream who might still desert him.

‘But one day you might have doubted us; you could have stood apart from our so-convenient marriage and your wildly passionate wife on that day and wondered what if? What if you hadn’t been such a gallant fool and rescued me from my folly and loneliness that night, what if it was just as convenient for me to say “I love you” to my husband when we were bound together for life as it was to adore what we did together in our marriage bed? After I got past that awful thought and knew I loved you body and soul, Edmund, I had to find a way to let you know beyond any doubt that it’s you I want and need and that I’ll only ever be a shadow of a woman without you. I woke up to what we are to each other at last and how could I not come to you when you’re everything to me?’

‘Oh, Kate my love, you humble me. I had so many words stored up for you against the one-day fantasy I spun about you from the first moment I set eyes on you. You made the rest of that ballroom look like an etching in black and white compared with the full glorious life of you and I wanted you so much it hurt.’

‘I know, I’m such an
idiot
,’ she chided herself.

‘You’re my idiot,’ he told her with an insufferable smile.

‘I most certainly am,’ she informed him just as smugly, ‘and you’re mine.’

‘I’m yours, full stop, or your personal idiot?’

‘Both,’ she told him mock resentfully as he tipped her off the bed and stood up himself, knowing day was all but here and they had to part.

‘I don’t want to leave you, Edmund,’ she told him with her feelings for him naked in her eyes, her body so changed by the love they’d shared that she felt every inch a mature and beloved woman as she stretched and yawned and met his eyes with her own full of sleepy sensuality.

‘You have to. I don’t know how I’m going to smuggle you out of here without anyone knowing you’ve been here in the depths of the night as it is,’ he told her and aimed a mock slap at her buttocks as she wiggled them as provocatively as she could while reluctantly retrieving her filmy chemise and donning it with a sensuous shiver as the fine silk caressed much-loved curves and whispered over sensitised breasts and hid her reverently manhandled body from his hungry gaze.

‘Too late,’ she told him without noticeable shame. ‘I didn’t sneak in here when nobody was looking and hide in corners to get here last night, Edmund. I walked through the front door and your butler and I had a very interesting conversation about interior decoration and future domestic arrangements while he conducted me impassively upstairs and informed me solemnly that all the staff would be retiring early and rising late.’