Rogue in Red Velvet (35 page)

So she showed him. She cupped her breasts, offered them to him, then dragged him close so he could feel her hardened nipples against his chest, rubbed them to increase the sensation, until he groaned and lifted again. This time he balanced easily on one hand and used the other to touch her clitoris. Shards of heightened awareness radiated through her, and her breath shortened to desperate gasps.

“Ah!” Her cry was sharp and hard, her arousal rocketing into a higher level, something she hadn’t thought possible. But he worked her, moved his finger against her clitoris while he thrust in and out in a rhythm she couldn’t resist, didn’t want to. And all the time she watched him, stared up into those dark, searching eyes, let him see everything he was doing to her. And in return, he opened himself to her. It humbled her, excited her and drove her to the precipice.

He removed his hand and rested his body on his hands, lifting his upper body off hers to drive hard. He watched her breasts as they responded to his drives and she loved the way his gaze heated. Then she forgot everything as her body became his, as she fell into clear space, empty of everything but him and her. She cried his name, screamed, as her body convulsed around him, milked him, the hot spasms of his essence jetted into the depths of her.

He slumped over her and she welcomed his weight but in a moment he rolled away but slung his arm around her waist and took her with him. She snuggled close, lifted one leg to place over his and he kissed her once more. “A busy day,” he murmured, “And it’s late. Sleep now, darling.”

She didn’t need any more urging than that. Held safe against his strong body, she slid into the most blissful slumber she could remember.

* * * *

Connie wasn’t sure what woke her. She lay in the gloom, not even a fire to light her vision, just the faint outlines of the great bed and the heavy furniture. She blinked and spread her arm to feel the empty space next to her. But it was warm. He hadn’t been gone long.

The sound of a door opening startled her and she sat upright, drawing the sheet up around her. But Alex, stark naked and smiling came through the small door he’d told her led to the powder room. “Miss me?”

“I must have because I woke up.”

He crossed to a table that held some decanters. “Are you thirsty?”

“Water, something like that?”

He glanced at her and smiled. “No wine to toast our agreement?”

“Not wine.”

He laughed softly and poured a glass of rich red wine and another of a pale liquid she only recognized when he gave it to her and she sniffed before drinking. A cordial, like the one her grandmother used to make. The scent of elderflowers took her back to simpler times, when she’d laughed and played in her father’s garden, before any cloud had crossed her horizon.

He touched his glass to hers. “To our long and prosperous union. May we give my father a nursery full of children.”

Tears filled her eyes and she stared at him as her world tumbled around her. He gently took her glass and put it with his on the table by the bed. Cursing, he climbed off the bed and pulled aside the curtains, which opened on to the back of the house. The pink light of dawn filtered into the room and he would see her tears when he returned to bed.

He took her in his arms. “Now what on earth have I said to upset you, dear heart?”

Before now, she’d thought herself perfectly reconciled to her fate but his reminder brought her sharply down to the earth she should never have left. If this night was all they ever had, it was beautiful. She had never told him, assuming they’d never come to this point but they had.

He stroked her but he paused when he touched the ridge just below her hips, that line above her bottom. It hardly showed any more and the ridge wasn’t very pronounced but a smooth stroke would make it apparent. He just hadn’t touched her that way before. He paused then traced the line with his fingers, to where it stopped just above one buttock. “Who did that?”

Not, “How did that happen?” or “How did you get that?”

She wouldn’t hide anything from him. She’d promised and it was probably better now, while he could still change his mind. She’d have to jilt him of course, but since she had no intention of marrying anyone else, that didn’t matter very much to her social standing.

She lifted her head and he crooned something soothing, before picking up his handkerchief, which was lying on the nightstand with the two glasses. He gently wiped her tears away and kissed the corners of her eyes. “Now tell me. Is the mark anything to do with those tears?”

She swallowed. “In a way. Let me tell you about my marriage to John. It’s time you knew everything about me.” His arm stiffened around her but he jerked a nod. He had braced himself to listen.

“John was the son of the local squire, Stephen Rattigan. He went away on the Grand Tour. Not quite as grand as the one you aristocrats go on but it kept him away from home for a year. Before, I’d taken him for granted but when he returned, I saw him with new eyes. I followed him around like a puppy after its master. In retrospect, I must have seemed gentle and biddable, the perfect answer for his dilemma. So he wooed me and married me. He was gentle and kind and handsome and I thought I loved him.”

She kept Alex’s gaze. “I discovered I was wrong. He encouraged my feelings, believing an acceptable match would work for him, no consideration for anyone else. He’d fallen in love with the daughter of the local innkeeper before he went abroad. It wasn’t an entirely respectable inn.” Her mouth tightened when she remembered. “They harbored the ne’er-do-wells, the thieves and cutpurses but Eliza wasn’t like that. She was sweet and kind and not very bright. And John loved her. That was the real reason his father had sent him away, the real reason he married me.”

She lifted her hand, flattened the palm against Alex’s strong, hair-roughened chest. “At first it was fine, because I didn’t realize John had taken up with Eliza again. He really loved her, you see. If he’d been stronger, he could have defied his father, maybe they could have run away but they didn’t. And I became pregnant. John didn’t do any of the things with me that you and I—” she broke off in confusion, still too shy to articulate what they’d done.

Alex kissed her forehead. “I know. You think I didn’t realize how innocent you are?”

“I carried the baby for five months then I lost it as I entered the sixth.” She could hardly bear to think about the details of that terrible, painful time but she had to. He needed to know.

She drew a shaky breath. “I lost the baby because Eliza came to see me and begged me to let him go. She wanted him all to herself. I hadn’t realized John was seeing her. The shock made me stumble and I fell. A bad fall.”

He murmured something and cupped the back of her head, stroking her hair.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “They were all very kind but I didn’t want John near me. They thought it was shock and when they finally left me alone to recover, John came to me and we had the first honest talk of our lives. It made me very sorry for him but worse for myself. He should have stood up to his father then I’d have married someone else and had a simple, tranquil life.”

“Then I wouldn’t have met you. Go on. I didn’t intend to stop you.”

“Well that’s about it. Except that my doctor told me the miscarriage might affect my ability to have children. It was a blow but John swore to give Eliza up. Of course, he didn’t and he never came back to my bed, coming up with excuse after excuse. When I saw her, pregnant, walking across the village green on Mayday, I knew John had fathered her baby. I confronted him that night, said he hadn’t fulfilled his side of the bargain, and if he didn’t put his heart into it, there was no point going on. He yelled at me as if it was my fault. He took his crop to me.” She swallowed and ignored Alex’s low curse. “It wasn’t the first time. He started after I lost the baby, told me everything was my fault. He said he should have married Eliza and she was fertile, more than I was. And he rode off to join her.”

She paused, remembering the night in vivid detail and set her jaw firmly. “That night one of those summer storms whipped up out of nowhere. I had the windows and doors locked and barred and although we lost a chimney to the wind, came out of it more or less intact. Not so John. They found him in the morning. He’d been riding to her when a branch had fallen from a tree and struck him. He fell off his horse, landed on a rock and he died. Either the rock or the branch killed him.”

She took a breath and spared a thought for her unhappy husband. Too weak to fight for the woman he wanted, he’d taken her without telling her first. If he had, she’d have refused, but at least he’d have given her the choice. “When John’s father died a few months later, broken hearted, I discovered he’d left the estate to me, in recompense, he said, for what John did to me. I sold some of it and gave the money to Eliza. It was only fair. She’d suffered as much as I and the child she carried should have been John’s heir, if he’d had the courage to follow through his desires, instead of doing what society and his family wished.”

“My poor love.” Alex’s gentleness brought her to tears again. But he held her and stroked her and afterwards went and found a damp cloth in the powder room, which he used to clean her face.

He wouldn’t let her speak but when she tried to push him away, he brought her closer, nestling her against him. “Now it’s my turn. First of all, I am not John. When I made love to you for the very first time, it was with the full knowledge that we’d reach this point. That we’d marry. I wouldn’t have taken the risk without making that decision. The only thing that would have stopped me was you, if you took a dislike to me or if you wanted to go elsewhere.”

“No, Alex, no—”

“Be quiet,” he said fondly. “I said it was my turn to speak.” He tapped a finger against her lips and she kissed it, unable to stop herself. “That’s better,” he murmured. “When I heard Dankworth was courting Miss Stobart I felt sorry for her but overwhelmingly glad you were free. I warned my father that I had every intention of visiting you when you came to town with the Downhollands and trying to discover a way to break the engagement if you wished it. He grumbled but he knew he couldn’t do anything. I’d made my mind up. Then you disappeared and I went frantic. After I found you, when you were staying at Brook Street, I got to woo you in the full light of Society’s amused gaze. And in case you didn’t recognize it, that was what I did. Miss Stobart only sped things up a little by interrupting us tonight.”

He gave a short laugh. “She had meant it to happen as it had happened with her, that I’d back off and make you seem foolish, or worse. But it didn’t and if she’d stopped for one moment and given the matter some thought, she’d have realized it for herself.”

His hold on her tightened, his muscles enclosing her. She felt so safe she wanted to stay there forever. Dangerous to think that way. “Connie, I love you. Don’t you understand that by now? You are the only woman I will marry and I made that clear to my father. If you wish it, we’ll try to get you pregnant but if you don’t, there are ways of preventing it. I don’t believe you are barren. One miscarriage and the say-so of one country doctor, who only said ‘may’ and not ‘will’ is no proof. If that doesn’t happen, I will still love you and want to stay with you. You complete me, darling.”

“But—”

“I have two brothers,” Alex continued relentlessly. “If we don’t produce offspring, then they probably will. It doesn’t matter. I won’t say I don’t care. I do, because it obviously hurts you to think of it. I would love a child with you, sweetheart but our happiness isn’t dependent on it.”

“I’ll be thirty soon.”

“And I’ll be thirty-six.” He kissed her. “My father was right that I left it rather long to marry but I’d never met anyone I wanted to stand by my side, anyone I’d give up the rest of my active social life for. When I look at you, I can’t imagine ever wanting anyone else. Why drink milk when you can have cream? You, my love, are the cream.”

His warmth and reassurance suffused her, driving out her anxiety and her tears. He kissed her and made everything better. “So let’s prove it, sweetheart. Let’s make love.”

“Yes.” She wanted that closeness again. She’d never stop wanting it.

He lifted her and turned her, so she sat astride him. His cock had grown erect again, ready for her. Connie studied it, fascinated. The smooth head gleamed from a drop of pure essence that seeped from the tiny opening at the top.

John had always conducted his hasty couplings with her in the dark, when they were both wearing their nightclothes. Like a guilty secret, one with no joy.

She’d seen Alex naked more times than she’d ever seen her husband. Her
last
husband, her
late
husband, her
first
husband. She tried the words out in her mind, decided on one and then put John away. First was probably the most tactful.

Hesitantly, she opened her hand and spread it over Alex’s chest, feeling the powerful muscles tense when she did so. He watched her with a slow smile curling his lips. “I love it when you touch me. Will you do this often? Will you enjoy it?”

“Of course I’ll enjoy it. How could I not?” She moved her hand and he moaned his encouragement.

“Touch me, sweetheart. All of me.”

Although she still felt some hesitation, she knew it stemmed from her lack of experience, not from her desire.

Alex leaned against the stacked pillows, blatantly gazing at her body. Under his scrutiny her nipples beaded and hardened, their sensitivity increasing all the time. Her eyelids flicked shut, then opened. She watched him, while she explored.