Samantha James (13 page)

“I can’t help it! I—”

“Feel, Fionna. Just
feel.
Feel—” His mouth closed over hers, his tongue circling around hers. He made a sound deep in his throat; it resounded in hers. “Feel this,” he said into her mouth.

His head lifted, but there was no time for regret. Almost before the strings of her corset were
freed, his palms slid into the bodice of her gown, closing around her breasts, filling his hands with soft, overflowing flesh, for her breasts seemed to swell of their own volition. His palms rubbed tiny circles around the points of her nipples, first one way, then the other.

She’d written about this, with Raven and Rowan. She recalled moving restlessly in her chair as she’d written the scene, pressing her hands against her bosom in order to quell the sensation that gathered there.

But this was so much better than she could have ever imagined. This, then, was what he meant by touching, she realized hazily.

Tiny needlelike pinpricks centered there, in the very peaks. He tantalized. He tormented. Yet she longed for it to go on and on, for she sensed there was more. Her lips parted. She panted softly, aware that he watched his hands lift her breasts, his thumbs whisking across her nipples, then circling slowly. Yes, he watched…and
she
watched, and it was arousing beyond belief.

Her heart was skipping madly. She discovered herself wondering what his mouth would feel like there, at the very crest of her breast. At the very same instant, her face seared. She was aghast at the direction in which her mind had veered…aghast at
his
next move.

With fluid ease, he lifted her, shifting their bodies so that he sat in the chair instead—while
she
sat in his lap.

His feet were planted wide—and she was planted snugly between the vise of his thighs. Her body jerked, shock splintering through her. Her bottom was snuggled against the part of his physique she had stunned herself by mentioning earlier.

His thighs were bands of iron. As for what lay between…A blatant hardness. She tried to squirm away, only to feel that part of him surge. Surge high and…swell, unless she was mistaken. And Fionna was quite sure she was not. Dear Lord, how was it possible that he—

“Aidan,” she managed. “Aidan, please. This is not…we should not—”

“Hold, Fionna. Don’t think. Don’t speak.”

The hooks at the back of her gown were released with a dexterity that left her stunned. He spared her no modesty, no apology. The bodice of her gown was dragged down to her hips, leaving her naked. Fire trailed in the wake of his fingertips. Her hair had come undone, falling around one shoulder and trailing down the length of her arm. The skirt of her gown had somehow become tangled about her knees, revealing a scandalous length of silk-covered leg.

His gaze still dwelled on her chest. His head lowered slowly. His target was clear…Anticipation swelled. Expectation surged.

Her heart stopped when his tongue touched the point of one nipple. Dipping and swirling, he licked a slow, circling stroke around and around.
Sensation lit like a flame, sensation that was almost painful. She wasn’t quite sure why…and when her nipple disappeared into his mouth, she did. She clutched at him, arching into him. When at last he began to suck long and hard and strong, the bottom dropped out of her belly; she was granted her first glimpse of heaven. The next came when he commenced the same, taunting play on the other nipple, leaving the first dark and shiny and wet.

Her lips parted. Her breath hissed in, but she hadn’t a prayer of saying a word.

Aidan pressed his face between the mounds of her breasts. “God,” he said gratingly, and then again: “God above, but you stir me!”

He raised his head, his turquoise eyes glittering, his breathing ragged. His mouth returned, fiercely this time, his tongue swirling and mating with hers.

Tentatively, a trifle awkwardly, she slipped her fingertips between the buttons of his shirt. His hand joined hers, as anxious as she. The instant she was able, she twined her fingers through the crisp dark hair on his chest.

She could concentrate on nothing but the feel of his mouth taking hers again and again, the pressure of his arm locked possessively around her waist, as if he feared she would bolt at any second.

Deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew she
should have. Yet nothing was further from her mind.

His kiss was like ambrosia. Delicious. And touching…she’d never dreamed it would be like this. There was so much more to touching than she had ever imagined. She was allowing him liberties she should never have allowed, but it felt so wondrously good she didn’t care. She couldn’t stop the pleasure she felt…she certainly couldn’t stop him.

And she was about to discover how much
more
there could be.

With unerring determination, unwavering deliberation, their mouths clinging wildly, Aidan’s hand strayed inevitably lower. Skimming the silken folds of her skirts, drifting beneath the hem, his fingertips caressed a silk-clad thigh, clear to where it ended—and beyond.

No, he did not stop there, nor did he give even a thought to it. Without pause, he continued his journey, strong male fingers slipping into the slit in her drawers. With no hesitation, he clamped every inch of her mound.

Fionna gasped, dragging her mouth away. Her legs stiffened and slammed shut. She didn’t realize that in so doing, she’d trapped his hand.

Not that Aidan was wont to remind her. Alas, though, he was now almost fully erect, driven to bone-stiff hardness.

Her face and breasts were suffused with col
or, her eyes huge and wary. He’d felt her jolt of shock, interpreted the confusion on her face, the unmistakable awareness of what and where he touched.

“Aidan,” she choked, “I cannot…You cannot mean to—”

“And I won’t. I won’t have you despise me, Fionna. When I make you mine, I want no doubts. When I make you mine, you’ll want me as much as I want you.”

He kissed her anew, kissed her until he felt her resistance wane, initiating a slow, dancing rhythm on the satin plane of her thighs. Soft curls brushed his knuckles, sending him halfway to madness. Feeling her go damp and wet against him nearly tumbled him over the edge. He laid his thumb directly against the sensitive peak hidden deep within her nest. A tremor shot through her; he swallowed the stifled little sound she made.

“It’s all right,” he muttered hoarsely, feasting now on the tantalizing spot where her shoulder met her neck. “It’s just another way to pleasure you. Let me, love. Let me please you.”

With two fingers he traced the valley beside her chasm; her flesh was hot and slick, plump and swollen, almost weeping beneath his gentle exploration. Heat blasted through his body, a heat that rivaled that of India; he was steaming along with her.

“I want,” she panted. “I need…Damn you, you’re torturing me.”

He eased a finger inside her, retreating, then easing forward again. He couldn’t dismiss the tender flesh clamped tight around him, for her virginal state rendered her tight and small. “Wait, Fionna. Wait. I don’t want to hurt you.” Sweat popped out on his brow. Little by little he advanced. Higher. Deeper. Her flesh yielding beneath his gentle but inevitable penetration.

She moaned. “It’s not enough. Dammit, it’s not enough!”

His laugh was triumphant. “Patience, love. Patience.”

She buried her head against his shoulder.

He buried his finger inside her cleft, as far as he could. His thumb slowly circled her velvety pearl, pressed, then circled anew, faster and faster, gaining a tempo he knew would drive her wild.

Her hands came up, clenching and unclenching against his chest. He felt the tension strung throughout her body and knew precisely what caused it.

Knew precisely how to ease it.

”Don’t fight it.” The words were a low, silken whisper, yet his tone was almost gritty with self-control. “Just let it happen, darling. Just let it happen.”

She couldn’t stop it. He knew that pure sensa
tion burned inside her. She writhed around his finger, her hips seeking, stark and wanton.

He knew precisely when the spasms of release seized hold. She cried aloud. Her body contracted around him, again and again. She collapsed against him, spent and satiated, his finger still deep inside her.

Aidan, however, was more aroused than he had ever been in his life. Every part of his body, every muscle, every nerve, was taut and on edge, almost to the breaking point. A crimson haze of desire scorched his insides, for though Fionna had gained release, he had not. He could barely think.

Powerful arms lifted her, catching her so that she faced him, her bare legs bracketed around his. A long arm swept around her back. “You pleased me, love. And I am glad that I pleased
you
so much. But the next time we are together like this, it will be a different part of me that will be inside you. The next time it will be
this.
”

Reaching between them, he fumbled with his trousers, freeing his rigid erection, curling her fingers around thick, swollen flesh and sealing it there with the pressure of his own. “And there will be nothing between us, sweet. No barriers of clothing. No barriers of words. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Fionna gaped at him, stunned at what he’d said. Stunned at what he was doing. She could
feel that rigidly masculine part of him…good heavens, her palm was
filled
with that rigidly masculine part of him. And therein lay but more shock…it was truly only part of him.

His expression was tense and unsmiling, his eyes glittering with a desire so fierce and intense, she was struck dumb.

Realization was slow to return. When it did, shame roiled over her. She would never be able to look at herself in the mirror again. She would never be able to look at
him.

“Let me go!” she cried.

He released her. She scrambled to her feet and surged away, turning her back on him. From the corner of her eye, she was aware of him shrugging into his jacket. How the blazes could he be so calm when her hands were trembling so that she had yet to cover herself properly?

Behind her, she heard him sigh.

Before she knew what he was about, he’d whisked the gown up so that it covered her breasts, then turned her to face him.

Fionna jerked away. Amber-flecked eyes blazed up at him.

“I will thank you to leave,” she told him tightly.

He cocked a brow. “As a matter of fact, I
was
leaving.” Mercifully, he’d regained his control. However, it appeared Fionna had progressed to a radically different emotion.

He frowned. “You’re angry.”

“Of course I’m angry! How dare you,” she sputtered. “How dare you say such a thing. How dare you
do
…”

“Yes?” he prompted. “How dare I do what?”

He knew she would not say it, the wretch. She tipped her chin high. “You should not have…you should not have done what you did!”

“I see my bluntness has offended your sensibilities. However, I fear I must continue to be blunt. I heard no protests, Fionna. All I heard were sounds of pleasure. Of passion. And the ones I heard,” he finished with such calm that she was all the more outraged, “were unmistakably yours, love.”

This time the sound she made was one of pure rage. This time she was certain there was no mistaking it for anything else but what it was.

“What, will you accuse me of seducing you then?”

If she could have made such a claim, she would have. But it wasn’t true. Nonetheless, she was compelled to respond.

“What I think,” she said very deliberately, “is that you maneuvered me to your own end.”

“If that were true, I assure you the
end,
as you call it, would have been much different. And the means to that end, as well, might have been, well…a little different as well.”

Fionna went scarlet to the marrow of her bones.

“Or perhaps not,” he added thoughtfully.

Fionna stiffened.

Aidan, meanwhile, gave her a long, slow look as he retrieved his greatcoat. “Think what you wish, Fionna. Say what you will. But if you cannot be honest to me, then at least be true to yourself.” His gaze bored into hers. He did not gloat, he did not crow. “You, my lovely, desire me every bit as much as I desire you. You just proved it. The difference between us is simply that I refuse to hide from it.”

He spoke of passion. He spoke of pleasure.

Somewhere in the depths of Fionna’s soul whispered a voice that told her he was right. That she hid from it. From him.

From herself.

She could not forget what Aidan had done. The pleasure and passion that had coursed throughout her body. And so she put those emotions to
good use, made the most of it. She let fly her imagination. She let herself be swept away.

Her writing that night was of a decidedly erotic bent. She dared more than she had ever dared before. Raven dared more than she had ever dared before…and so did Rowan.

It was late when she fell exhausted into bed. Nonetheless, sleep did not come readily. Her mind was racing around and around. She groaned when the light began to peep through the curtains. A raging headache throbbed in her temples. She’d barely staggered from the bed when Glynis knocked.

She opened the door, still clad in her nightgown, her robe tied hastily.

Glynis blinked. “Would you prefer I come back tomorrow, miss?”

“No. No, it’s not necessary, Glynis.”

“P’rhaps a nice warm bath would be to your liking,” the little red-haired maid declared cheerily. “Shall I prepare one, miss?”

Amazingly, Fionna smiled. “Oh, that sounds divine. What on earth would I do without you?”

Indeed, it did much to ease the pounding in her head. Glynis fluttered to and fro, chattering as only she could chatter. Fionna languished as long as she dared, then climbed from the tub. Glynis helped her dress. The maid had already prepared a small repast. While Fionna ate her meal, she pondered increasing the girl’s salary. Glynis
completed her chores, then went on her way.

It was nearly ten when Fionna flung her cloak over her shoulders, hastily tied her bonnet, and ran down the stairs. In the shop, she seized the broom and fairly flew out the door to sweep the smattering of the night’s snowfall from the steps.

There! Done, and just in time to open the shop.

It was such a lovely winter day, she paused for just one more moment. Others complained about the cold, but Fionna didn’t mind. It was better than endless days of dismal rain.

The sun was framed against a vivid blue sky, reminding her of the village in winter. Once, when she was young, Mama and Papa had taken her for a sleigh ride through the forest, across snow-covered hills. The sun sparkled brightly. Nestled protectively between her parents, layers of blankets draped across all of them to shut out the cold, Fionna couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt so loved—when she’d ever been so happy. It was beautiful; how she loved winter! She’d watched as the wind blew snow off the branches of the trees. They’d stopped to warm themselves at Vicar Tomlinson’s cozy little house near the church.

A huge lump rose in her throat. Reluctant to give up the memory so quickly, she lifted her face to the brilliant arc of the sun, tipping it ever so
slightly to avoid the reflection on brilliant crystals of snow. She turned for one last look. Mrs. Chalmers was just climbing from her carriage; they each gave a wave. Just as Fionna prepared to turn away, a shadow darkened the walk. She recognized that fluid stride, the tilt of his hat, the swing of his cane. Here was the man who had kept her awake long into the night. She gathered her courage and her tongue.

Aidan had ceased his walk not three feet away. She longed to emit a groan, but she decided it would be best to take her cues from the man. Within limits, of course.

Silence prevailed.

“Well,” Aidan said at last. “This is proving to be rather awkward. I, for one, should prefer that it not be the case.”

“You are right, of course.” Fionna let out an uneven breath. “Perhaps it would be best,” she said slowly, “if we had another—discussion.” She didn’t know what else to call it.

“Excellent idea. However, I have business scheduled for the rest of the day. May I suggest this evening?”

Fionna’s pulse leaped. Evening. A calculated move?

Oh, heavens. She was being much, much too paranoid. Yet how she envied him his composure, his aplomb, for she felt as if she were flying out of control. But somehow she managed
to maintain a pleasant countenance when Aidan said, “Shall we say seven o’clock?”

Fionna nodded. “Good day to you then.”

He swept her a bow. “Until this evening.”

As it was, the day seemed endless. Only two customers entered the shop, shortly before noon. Finally, she retreated to the back office to write. She was anxious to finish up
Demon of Dartmoor.
Then it would be on to
The Scourge of Scotland.

She hadn’t worked out the plot yet, but a vague idea lurked in the back of her mind—it was how she worked best. Perhaps she could write of some ancient beast, some evil spirit come to life. Aidan’s face fixed securely in her mind—the Scourge of Scotland indeed!

Alas, there was little point in trying to write. The words simply would not come. How she hated it when that happened. And it had been happening all too much of late—she’d never encountered such difficulty before. Why, it had been difficult ever since she’d met Aidan McBride!

She was admittedly apprehensive about meeting with him this evening. She fixed a light supper, of which she could barely eat a scant bite.

At a quarter of seven, she began to prepare tea.

Promptly at seven she heard his knock. A most polite greeting, and she ushered him upstairs.

Fionna went to fetch the tray of tea. The scoundrel! He had taken a place in
that
chair, the one where they had…! She couldn’t finish the
thought. She had the distinct feeling he did it solely on purpose, as if to goad her.

She wouldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t allow him to discomfit her.

She poured for both of them. “I trust you had a pleasant day.” She handed him cup and saucer and directed her attention to her own, eyes downcast, taking far longer than was necessary to drop in milk and sugar and stir—stir—stir.

Aidan lowered his cup. His mouth thinned. “Egad, Fionna! Can’t you even look at me? You make me feel an utter blackguard.”

And he made her feel like a fallen angel. She focused on his hands, so undeniably strong and male, curled around the delicate china cup. The memory of his hands—his fingers—sliding beneath her skirt suddenly revived all too keenly. A single finger penetrating her.
Breaching
her, so daringly bold she went hot all over,
especially
that place that he had claimed. It was all she could do to keep herself from squirming.

He made no effort to hide his impatience. “It is not,” he stated grimly, “particularly flattering that you find this so unpalatable.”

Fionna set aside her cup. She pinched the bridge of her nose until it hurt, relishing the ache, for it enabled her to gather her thoughts and her courage. Finally, she raised her head and placed her hands primly in her lap.

“Very well then. What happened last night…
well, it can’t happen again, Aidan. It mustn’t.”

There was a brooding silence. Nay, a brewing silence.

Not once did he take his eyes from her face. It was unnerving.

“It mustn’t happen again,” she repeated, this time even more nervously.

“I beg your pardon?”

His tone was so calm. She envied him his composure, even as she hated his unruffled manner. Oh, the wretch, he
was
a blackguard. He knew full well how difficult this was for her! He would make her say it aloud.

Her lips compressed. “You know very well of what I speak.”

“Tell me.”

“You…kissing me.” She had to swallow in order to continue. “The way you touched me. I-it can’t happen again,” she finished all in a rush.

He sat back, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You kissed me back, Fionna. Quite…feverishly, as I recall. I should say that all was quite…feverish.”

“It’s quite unfair of you to remind me,” she said, her voice very low.

He reached for his cup, sipped, then replaced it on the saucer. “May I be blunt, Fionna?” He gave her no chance to respond. “You enjoyed it as much as I.”

“That is hardly the point—”

“That is exactly the point.”

“I am trying to make you understand,” she told him unevenly. “I enjoy your company, Aidan. Truly. My life has been lonely of late. My life has been solitary. It’s been a choice I’ve had to make.” She held her breath, afraid to divulge too much, yet striving for honesty. “I freely admit, I should miss your company, for I’ve enjoyed the times we’ve been together—”

“Especially last night.” There was a devilish slant to the tilt of his head, his mouth…oh, but he was outrageous.

“Aidan! Pray let me finish. I think it would be best if we were simply friends, as it were.”

“Friends?” he mused. “Friends don’t kiss like we did, sweet. Friends don’t
touch
like we did.”

“Precisely what I am trying to say. Precisely why it can’t happen again! Isn’t it possible that we could simply be comrades of sorts?”

“Comrades?” He released a laugh.

“Do not amuse yourself at my expense,” she snapped. “We are friends, Aidan. Nothing more.”

“In your eyes, Fionna. The word is subjective. Friends can be lovers. Lovers can be friends—and should be.”

Lovers?
Fionna suppressed a gasp. The conversation had taken the very direction she’d hoped to avoid. Tried desperately to avoid. But even she knew that what they shared last night had gone far beyond the bounds of friendship.

“Don’t say such things.” The heat of a blush crept up her neck.

He laced his fingertips together, letting them rest on his waistcoat.

“We both know it, Fionna. Last night proved it. It could have easily progressed to—”

“No! Don’t say such things, Aidan.”

The makings of a smile tipped his mouth. “I could carry you into your chamber right now,” he said softly, “and make love to you and you know it. Concede the point.”

Her heart leaped in panic. “You are wrong! You think much of yourself, my lord. I concede nothing, certainly not such a ridiculous assertion.”

His smile widened. “Ah, Fionna. That is a challenge a woman should never issue a man. It only makes him want to prove otherwise.”

Dismay flooded all through her. “Aidan. I beg of you, do not.”

Again that silence. She could have screamed.

“Friends, Aidan. Friends,” she stressed.

“And if I do not agree?” He stretched his legs out.

“Please do not make this harder for me.”

“So you think to leave it like this?”

“Yes.” There was nothing more to say.

“Nothing has been resolved, Fionna.”

“Everything has been resolved.”

“In your eyes, perhaps. Not mine. You proposed this discussion. Therefore, I suggest that
we come to a mutually agreeable solution…even if it takes all night,” he said mildly.

Fionna was aghast. “You cannot stay here all night!”

“I’m quite adept at slipping in and out of places unheard and unseen,” he murmured, “compliments of my time in the Punjab.”

Fionna glared at him.

“You do realize,” he said very softly, “that I find this conversation immensely revealing.”

She stiffened. “How so?”

“You deny yourself what you truly want, Fionna. In spite of your feelings. In spite of your desire.”

“You do not know me as well as you think, my lord.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, a steady rhythm, as if she’d not spoken at all. “I wonder why that is, Fionna. A choice, you said, to lead a solitary existence. Your choice, I believe, were your exact words.”

Her chin came up. “I like my life as it is.”

“You live it like a recluse,” he stated baldly. “I continue to ask why, yet you continually evade an answer.”

The truth was brutal, she thought with a wince. Outwardly she held his gaze. To her credit, it never faltered.

“You stray from the subject, Aidan, the subject of friendship.”

“And lovers.”

“No.” She gazed at him unflinchingly. “We are not lovers. We will never be lovers.”

For the longest time he said nothing. He got to his feet and stood there, that odd smile still playing about his mouth. “We already are, sweet.”

“The devil we are!” Her objection was stormy and heated.

“Calm yourself, my buzzing little bee.” He laughed, in a way that would have made her catch her breath if her heart hadn’t been pounding so desperately.

“You do know your lack of experience betrays you, don’t you, sweet? There are other ways of making love than…well, I shall spare your modesty…the one
you
are thinking of. Ours was but one way. Indeed, there are others as well.”

Her face seared, but she didn’t back down.

“Then I vow that either way—
any
way—shall never take place between us, Aidan.”

He studied her, his eyes slightly narrowed, his head tipped to the side. To her utter vexation, she discovered his expression most confounding. She hadn’t the slightest notion what was going through his mind.

Then he said, “Escort me to the door, will you, love?”

With the greatest of pleasure.
Fionna longed to bare her teeth and growl.

The other half of her had a far different view. He shrugged on his greatcoat and turned.

He stood perilously close. And being so near to him, so very close to him again…was perilously sweet.

But that maddening smile had once more returned. Fionna longed to gnash her teeth.

“You will not sway me, Aidan. We are not lovers.”

“Not yet perhaps.”

“Friends cannot be lovers.”

“Ah. Fionna’s Law?”

“If you prefer to think of it that way, then yes.”

“This is my preference, Fionna. I agree that not all friends should be lovers. But as I stated before, all lovers should surely be friends, don’t you think?”

“Aidan’s Rules?” Her tone was a bit caustic.

“If you prefer to think of it that way, then yes.” He borrowed her statement of the moment before.

“And this is my preference, Aidan. Regardless of your conclusion, we are not lovers. We will never be lovers.”

He stepped even closer. His gaze roved every inch of her features.