Portrait of My Heart (21 page)

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Authors: Patricia Cabot

Tags: #Romance, #Adult, #Historical

BOOK: Portrait of My Heart
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Jeremy needed no more encouragement. Besides the fact that this woman happened to be
Maggie,
hers was the hottest, tightest sheath he had ever been inside. He could feel her pulsating all around him, her ivory thighs clenching his sides, her fingers tangled in his hair, bringing his lips down to meet hers again. Seizing hold of her soft breasts, Jeremy drove himself into her as deeply as he could, with his tongue as well as his shaft.
And Maggie, his Maggie, met him, thrust for thrust.
It wasn’t very long before the ache Maggie had been experiencing—centered between her thighs—became an urgent pull, driving her to press closer and closer to Jeremy’s hardness. Still, she was completely unprepared when, after one particularly hard thrust of his, one that she was sure was going to lance her to the mattress, she seemed to leave her body—though physically, she clung to him, harder than ever. Emotionally, however, she was suddenly drowning in a sea of color—of golds and sapphires and vermilions, more colors than she’d ever been able to mix in her paint box, more colors, she knew with a painter’s certainty, than existed. They flashed beneath her eyelids in an explosion of liquid light, pulsating all around her like a shower of jeweled paint drops, and Maggie, with a feeling of consummate joy, threw out her arms to catch as many as she could.
When Jeremy felt Maggie begin to climax beneath him, his first thought was one of elation—he had never, in all of his experience with women, been so sure that his partner was genuinely climaxing, and not performing for the sake of satisfying him—or his purse. With Maggie, however, there was no doubt, no doubt at all. He had satisfied her, more than satisfied her, if the look of beatific bliss on her face was any indication … .
And then, at the sight of that face, of Maggie’s long throat, her head thrown back in ecstasy, Jeremy himself climaxed, with such intensity that Maggie, only just recovering from her own release, thought for a panicky second or two
that he might split her in half. He exploded within her, pounding her body back against the mattress, letting loose as he did so a shout of such boastful joy that she was certain the entire household would be raised.
Then he collapsed against her, his damp brow resting in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. He was breathing heavily, his heart hammering so hard against her that she found herself wondering, vaguely, if he’d suffered an apoplexy. And she couldn’t help thinking smugly,
I
caused that.
Me. I
did it.
That feeling was almost as gratifying as her release had been.
It wasn’t until a little while later, when he started to slide from her, that Jeremy saw her wince. A glimpse at the sheets beneath them revealed the reason why.
“My God,” he cried, rearing up onto the heels of his hands, heedless of the pain that shot through his shoulder at the movement. “Are you all right, Mags?”
Maggie, not sure what he was talking about, followed the direction of his gaze. “Oh, no,” she said, when she saw the crimson stain that had spread over the white linen sheets. “However are we going to explain
that
?”
Jeremy frowned at her. “Never mind that.
Are you all right?”
Maggie glanced at him, bemused. “Yes, of course. A little sore, is all. Maybe if we soak them overnight—”
“Never mind the damned sheets,” Jeremy said through gritted teeth. “I’ll buy new ones tomorrow.”
Maggie brightened. “Oh, I’d forgotten! How nice it must be to be rich.”
Jeremy thought about pointing out to her that once she married him, she’d be rich, too, but at the last minute, he decided now was not the best time to bring up the subject. Yes, he’d got her into his bed. Now, he had to make certain he got into her heart.
But in the meantime, he intended to take full advantage of the time he had her in his bed.
Maggie must have recognized the glint in his eye, because
suddenly she said, “Oh, no. Not again. Jeremy, I’ve got to get back to my own room before Hill—”
But he didn’t let her finish. He didn’t think he would have much liked what she had to say on the subject anyway.
Jeremy was convinced he was dreaming. He’d had this dream before, and it always turned out the same: He woke, and the delectable figure in his arms, the one with all the very nice padding up front, vanished, as all her dream-sisters had, into nothingness.
But this time, Jeremy had figured out a way to keep that from happening. He simply wouldn’t wake up. That’s right. He’d keep his eyes closed, forever, if he had to, but it would be worth it, because he’d have all this cozy warmth to curl up against, and that was all he needed. Who needed food or drink when there was this bounty of female flesh to wrap one’s arms around? Jeremy could never remember feeling quite so comfortable in the whole of his life. Damn if he was going to ruin it all by waking up.
Then something happened that had never occurred in any of his dreams. The figure in his arms rolled over. Rolled over and nuzzled her face into the hollow between Jeremy’s neck and shoulder.
Waves of pain shot through him.
That
had never happened in any dream, either. Jeremy opened his eyes.
Good God! It was a dream come true! Jeremy had actually awakened to find Maggie Herbert in his arms!
True, he was in pain. Agonies of it. The place where he’d been stabbed the night before felt as if it were on fire. Still, when Maggie came into focus in the soft morning light, all of her, from the thick tangle of inky hair across his pillows
to the full weight of her naked breasts against his chest, he could easily forget his pain. It had been a while since he’d wakened in the company of a woman. Fraternization with the locals had been frowned upon by his fellow Horse Guards, so Jeremy had been forced to frequent houses of pleasure, where staying the night was generally discouraged.
But if memory served, the truly passionate woman—which Maggie, as he knew only too well, clearly was—was most effectively aroused by the application of a pair of lips placed directly beneath and a little behind the earlobe … .
Moving aside some of Maggie’s long, thick hair, Jeremy leaned forward to press his mouth to her neck. As he kissed her, he felt the steady beat of her pulse beneath his lips. Maggie stirred, hitching up a shoulder in response to the sensation below her ear. Her lips, however, curved into a slight smile, as if she were dreaming of something vaguely pleasant. Encouraged, Jeremy transferred his next kiss to that smiling mouth, and was even more pleased when Maggie seemed to kiss him back, sweetly, with the perfect innocence of a child.
But it wasn’t a child he was interested in. It was the woman that child had become.
Still, he was willing to be patient. The innocence of her unconscious kiss pleased him. She still kissed, even in her sleep, like someone who wasn’t used to it, but was very eager to learn. That was good. That was very good. Jeremy leaned down to taste her lips again.
This time when he kissed her, she surprised him by letting out a sigh. This was a highly encouraging sign, especially since the sigh parted her lips enough to allow him to deepen the kiss. Slipping his tongue inside her mouth, Jeremy found himself marveling once again at Maggie’s responsiveness, which was more genuinely sensual than any other woman he had ever known. The minute his tongue touched hers, Maggie let out a throaty little noise … .
And rolled over, effectively breaking the kiss. She did, however, move to press herself more closely against him—only, since her back was to him, all she succeeded in doing
was capturing his stiffening erection between the sweet curves of her backside.
His heart pounding unsteadily, Jeremy began to feel that all-too-familiar ache in his loins.
Suddenly, what had started out simply as a lusty alternative to spanking Maggie awake turned into something else altogether, something Jeremy no longer felt he was going to be able to suspend should she wake with different feelings toward him than she evidently felt while sleeping.
All the more reason, Jeremy decided, to enjoy her good will while it lasted, even if she was only bestowing it upon him because she was unconscious. God only knew when he’d be allowed to hold her in his arms like this again.
Jeremy raised a hand and ran it along the length of her body, pausing as his fingers encountered the swell of one of her breasts. He palmed that soft, heavy globe, feeling her nipple swell the same way he was swelling against her. Was it possible, he wondered, that even in her sleep, she wanted him?
He curved an arm around her narrow waist until his questing fingers found the soft down between her thighs. Separating the velvet folds gently, he was able to confirm his suspicions: She was wet. His fingers were suddenly awash with her essence. That discovery excited him to a point from which, he knew, there was no going back. He was rock hard against the tender valley between her buttocks. The moist heat from her womb seemed to beckon him. To enter her, all he’d need do was move the slightest bit, and …
He was amazed at how easily he was able to slide into her slick sheath; and then, once inside, further amazed at how tightly she closed around him, like an eager, fevered hand. Keeping one arm around her hips, his hand pressed against the hard little knot of flesh just below her pubic bone, and the other to one of her full ripe breasts, he began to move slowly in and out of her, his chest pressed hotly to her back, his eyes, like hers, closed, as he relished the bounty in his arms.
So it hadn’t been a dream. It hadn’t been a dream at all. The two of them had made love long through the night, until,
exhausted, they’d sunk into dreamless slumber. But Jeremy was full aware that often, that which was constructed by candlelight lost its luster when exposed to the harsh light of the day. He wasn’t about to let that happen with Maggie. He intended his mastery over her to be total. He would not let her plead that the moonlight had caused her to lose her head. He would not allow midnight to excuse what dawn brought with it.
It wasn’t until he heard her breathing quicken that he increased the pressure of his fingers between her legs. The movement of her own hips, as he entered and then retreated from behind, caused her to press against his callused fingers. His face buried in the fragrant curtain of her hair, he heard her moan softly in her sleep, felt her body opening, yielding to the demands of his. He plunged deeper and deeper into her, glorying in her eager acceptance of him, the dew that drenched his fingers, her ragged gasps for breath as he drove himself at her very core … .
And then he felt her stiffen all around him, her back arching while she thrust her pelvis greedily against his palm. The hot hand that had been clutching him so tightly, trying to hang on every time he pulled away, clenched convulsively, and then spasmed. And this time, Jeremy couldn’t pull away. He was caught in a trap of his own making, with no desire to escape. Instead, he gripped Maggie’s hips and erupted within her, filling her with liquid fire. She cried out hoarsely, her body shimmering with her own climax.
It wasn’t until he’d exhausted himself within her that Maggie’s eyelids began to flutter. Suddenly, he found himself gazing down into those dark brown depths that he knew so well.
“Good morning,” Jeremy said pleasantly, but because of the force of the orgasm he’d just experienced, his voice came out sounding raw and unsteady, not like his own voice at all.
Maggie blinked up at him. Her mouth, where he’d ravaged it with his own, was reddened from his whiskers, and her breasts were still rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. “That,” she said huskily “was unfair.”
Jeremy lifted an eyebrow. Though he was still buried inside
of her, he leaned up on one elbow, resting his head in his hand, and feigned innocence. “What was unfair?” he asked.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” But Maggie didn’t seem at all perturbed. She moved away from him, rolling over onto her back, before stretching languidly, like a cat. It was in doing so that she happened to brush her fingers against the bandage that was still tied around Jeremy’s shoulder. Suddenly, her eyes flared wide, and memory came flooding into them like tears. Jeremy, lying a foot away, watched in fascination as her irises went from brown to black.
“Jeremy,”
she said, as she clutched at the sheets, dragging them up to her chin. Her expression was one of horror. “What have we
done
?”
Jeremy shrugged, though the movement caused a twinge in his wounded shoulder.
“I
haven’t done a blessed thing,” he replied in mock indignation. “Here I was, sleeping peacefully, when I woke to find myself under lascivious attack. I defended myself as best I could, but you were simply too ardent, Mags. I’m afraid, in the end, I simply gave in to your lustful demands.”
“Oh, God, Jerry! How can you joke about it?” Maggie sat up, her long hair spilling about her. creamy shoulders. “Someone tried to
murder
you last night, and we … we …”
“We made wild, abandoned love?” He nodded. “Yes, I’d noticed that. I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty, my dear. If I’d known all I had to do to get you into my bed was bleed profusely, I’d have tried to get murdered more often.”
“Oh, Jerry!” Maggie covered her cheeks, which had been growing steadily more and more crimson, with her hands. The enormity of what had occurred was only just sinking in. She had made love with the Duke of Rawlings. Not just once, but several times. Her body was still tingling from his touch. As if that wasn’t proof enough, the sheets below her were stained with her blood. Good Lord, she’d lost her virginity last night,
to a man who was not even her fiancé
!
What had she been thinking? What had she
done
?
Jeremy, completely oblivious to the private torture Maggie was putting herself through, folded his hands beneath his head—his shoulder protested, but now that his limbs had been loosened up from their lovemaking, the wound did not feel quite so bad—and happily studied the canopy over his bed. “So,” he said. “What shall we do today, eh, Mags? Hop a train and head on up to Yorkshire, pay a call on the family? Or would you rather stay here in London, maybe do some shopping, catch a show? I haven’t been to the theater in five years. I wouldn’t mind seeing something with some nice musical numbers … .” He happened to glance in Maggie’s direction in time to see her struggling into the nightdress he’d stripped off her the night before. “Say, Mags,” he said, with only a very little suspiciousness. “Where are you going?”
“Back to my room, of course,” was the pert response. “Have you seen my robe?”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that it?” he asked, lifting the garment with his foot. “You know, Mags, I really think you ought to invest in something a little more daring than plaid. Maybe something diaphanous, with feathers … .”
Maggie snatched the dressing gown from him. “Oh, do shut up,” she said, through tightly gritted teeth. “
You
aren’t the one who has to go sneaking back down the hallway like a criminal—”
“What,” he asked, trying very hard not to laugh at her adorable indignation, “are you talking about?”
She shot him an irritated look. “Hill, of course!”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “Your maid?”
“Yes, of course. Oh!” Maggie hurried to thrust her arms through the plaid sleeves of her dressing gown. “I just hope she hasn’t noticed I’m missing yet.”
“What do you care what your maid thinks, Mags? Follow my example. If she gives you any guff, just dismiss her.”
“Dismiss her?” Maggie turned to glare at him, her normally gentle brown eyes crackling. “Jeremy, I’ll have you know that Hill is the only member of my family—well, of Herbert Park, anyway—who’s stuck by me these past few
months. I can’t dismiss her.” She gave the sash to her robe a savage yank. “Though she’ll probably give her notice this morning, anyway … .”
“Why?” Jeremy asked curiously.
“Because no respectable lady’s maid would stay in the employ of someone like me,” Maggie replied, a bit exasperatedly. “It’s bad enough that I consort with artists and Bohemians, and that my own family has cut me off. Now I’ve completely ruined what little reputation I might have had left by spending the night alone in the Duke of Rawlings’s town house—”
“What do you mean, alone? We weren’t a bit alone. I had to go to a lot of trouble to get rid of all the people who were hanging about, as a matter of fact—”
“Oh, Jerry,” Maggie said. “Surely you can’t think servants count! We were
unchaperoned.
Your aunt and uncle were supposed to return from Yorkshire, but something must have delayed them—”
“Thank God,” Jeremy muttered.
“—and now if it gets out that you and I were in the house alone—”
A nasty thought struck Jeremy, one that caused him to actually sit up. “What if it does? What would it matter? You’re not worried about what that
frog-eater
will think, are you?”
“I’m worried about what
everyone
will think, particularly your aunt and uncle, who will probably be here at any minute.” Maggie primly tied the sash to her robe. “And kindly refrain from referring to Augustin de Veygoux as a frog-eater. He does not, to my knowledge, eat frogs.”
Jeremy opened his lips to refute this, though based on what knowledge, he wasn’t sure, when a low tap sounded on the door. Maggie turned wide and startled eyes toward him, but he raised a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said with a chuckle. “No need to panic. It’s only Peters. He’s the only member of this household who’d dare disturb a Rawlings while he slept.”

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