Simply Scandalous (39 page)

He must realize now, she thought joyfully, that he
could never marry Serena Calverstock.

"Now I expect I've earned this black eye," he said
ruefully. "It is impossible to practice restraint when
you look at me like that, and you say those things, and
you smell so good, and your skin is so soft, and your
eyes ... Julie ...

She reached up very deliberately and kissed his
mouth. Unlike his kiss, hers was gentle, savoring,
sweet. She touched his lips with the tip of her tongue,
tasting nectar. "There is not the least need for restraint
with me, Ginger," she whispered. "I'm yours if you
want me."

He laughed shakily. "Careful, Julie. I'm not made
of stone, you know."

The weakness she saw in his eyes made her feel allpowerful, irresistible. Slowly, she pulled the laces of her
ombre dress and shrugged out of it. As he watched,
stunned, the silk crumpled at her feet, and she stood
before him wearing only her white silk drawers, stockings, and satin slippers. Her hair covered her breasts,
but almost defiantly, she pushed the long, dark curls
aside.

Mirabile visu,"he murmured, and all restraint left
the room.

The snowy white sheets felt cool against her burning skin as he crouched over her. "That's Latin," he murmured, his head moving between her breasts. His
tongue trailed down her breastbone, and she felt
the tips of her breasts swell almost to bursting. "It
means `wondrous to behold.' You, my darling, are
bloody wondrous to behold."

She cried out in pleasure as his mouth covered
her upstanding nipple. She had never thought of
her body as sensual before. She had compared its
physical lines to Greek and Roman engravings and to
garden statues of nymphs, to which, she thought, it
compared rather favorably. But never this. Every inch
of her skin was wild with feeling where he had touched
her and where she longed to be touched.

He suckled at her breast tenderly until the wildness
calmed into a dreamy pleasure.

"I know quite a bit of Latin," he went on, lifting his
head. "I read Latin at university."

"I thought you were sent down from Oxford," she
murmured, staring at his wide, red mouth. She had
not noticed before, but his lips had a sensual pout to
them. Kissing was what they did best. How many
women, she wondered, had he driven mad like this?
Actresses and opera dancers. He was certainly rich
enough to keep a string of high-priced mistresses. Jealousy and insecurity bit her suddenly. How paltry her
offering of love must seem to him after the practiced ministrations of skilled courtesans! Her breasts
were too small, her body too thin and awkward ...

"I learned a thing or two before I left," he whispered
in her ear, his tongue flicking against the sensitive lobe.
"Cunnilingus. Do you know what that is, my sweet?"

She propped herself up on her elbows and looked
at him, irritated because he had stopped fondling her
breasts. Were they really too small to please him?
What if the nipples were too hard? She could not understand it-usually, they were soft. And there was
a strange wet feeling between her legs that was not at
all normal. She felt all at once that her body had betrayed her. Decidedly, she was not in the mood for a
Latin lesson.

"Is it important?" she asked impatiently.

He chuckled, his hand slowly exploring the soft
hummock of her belly. She gasped as, dipping lower,
he pulled the string of her drawers. She was horrified
that he would discover the mysterious and embarrassing moisture.

"Please, Julie ..." he begged, his voice dark with
desire, and she melted. As long as she was certain of
his desire for her, she could not be reluctant. She
closed her eyes tightly, and the sensation of her drawers being pulled off both excited and terrified her. He
kissed her down the length of her body, driving her
almost to sobs, but her body jumped involuntarily as
he pressed his hand between her thighs. He sucked
in a ragged breath and slowly opened the petals of her
sex. She willed herself to be still; the sensation was
unlike anything she had ever experienced in her
life, and she meant to feel it to the utmost. "You
have such clever, sensitive fingers," she murmured
happily as he continued to explore the exquisitely sensitive flesh. More and more honey flowed from her
body, but she was no longer embarrassed. All she
could feel was him, his hands, his lips, his desire for
her. His head moved lower, his lips trailing sweet fire
over her skin.

"If you enjoy my fingers, you will like my tongue
even better," he murmured.

Juliet's eyes popped open. With a shock, she realized that he intended to kiss her there. "You can't-!"
she protested weakly.

"You are about to experience all the benefits of a
classical education, my love, without any of its inconveniences," he announced firmly, taking her powerless legs over his shoulders.

In the next moment, his mouth was on her, and
she forgot all the half-hearted protests that had
formed in the back of her mind. In her innocence,
she had thought his mouth on her breast the pinnacle
of pleasure, but she soon realized her mistake. The
first crisis shuddered through her body almost before
she knew what was happening. The blood rushed
into her ears, and she bit her lip hard to keep from
shrieking like a newborn babe. The most exquisite,
wringing pleasure overtook her entire body in a
seemingly never ending spiral of torrential emotion.
She had not thought herself capable of such strong
feeling; the closest she had ever come to this had
been-she nearly laughed as the thought entered her
reeling brain-the closest she had ever come to this
feeling in her life was when she had heard this man
play Beethoven. Now he was playing her, though not
with those remarkable hands, which looked so clumsy
but were so sensitive. He was playing her with his
tongue, and the music was divine.

When at last he lifted his face, she was a changed
woman, and her lover's face, with its black, swollen
eye; short nose; and wide mouth, was exquisitely
beautiful. "The Romans were a curiously oversexed
bunch," he told her. "I expect it's why Italy is such a
popular destination for travelers."

She blinked at him in confusion, her ability to
think and speak returning slowly. "What are you talking about?" She wanted to ask why he was talking at
all. Tears streaked her cheeks. She was now his forever.
Surely words were unnecessary?

"Cunnilingus. That was cunnilingus. From the
Latin lingere, meaning `to lick,' and cunnus ... well,
I will leave you to guess what cunnus is Latin for."

"Oh." She sat up and, for some absurd reason,
pulled the blue velvet coverlet up over her naked
breasts. A bit late for that, miss! her conscience mocked
her. The second before she had offered herself to
him, she had felt proud and powerful; now, she was
horribly weak and shy. "It was not what I expected,"
she said slowly. "I had thought the gentleman would
have to undress in order to perform the act of love."

He had not even removed his boots!

"Good God, no," he said, sitting on the edge of the
bed. "If I were to unleash my poor, tortured pego, your
virginity wouldn't be worth the paper it's printed
on, my dear."

"What? You mean there's more?" It was an exhausting thought. An exhilarating thought. Moments
before, she had thought herself entirely depleted, but
the desire returned now at double strength. If the
mere preliminaries had transported her into bliss,
what would the act itself do to her fantastically responsive body? And what would it do to him? She was
dying to find out.

"Of course there's more," he said brusquely, averting his eyes from her. The velvet coverlet had slipped
from her breasts. They were bigger than he had anticipated, with a soft round weight to them and proud
nipples, still red from his wild mouth. The sight
made him short of breath. If she gave him the barest
provocation, the barest sign, he knew he would lose
all control.

"You don't think I'm going to take your virginity,
do you?" he asked.

"I thought you had," she whispered. "You mean you
didn't? Don't you want to?"

He groaned.

"I'm not a complete cad, you know," he said, acute
sexual frustration making him more curt than he
meant to be. "I don't go about the place violating wellbred young ladies, you know. I'm a guest here. Your
brothers would hardly thank me-"

"My brothers aren't here," Juliet said quickly. "I'm
here. I'm here, Ginger." She pulled his hand to her and
placed it on her breast. "I want to belong to you ...
forever. You must know that. More than anything in this
world, I want to be your wife."

Her skin was warm and throbbing with life. In
vain, he had tried to kill his desire for her. "You win,"
he muttered as he swiftly unbuttoned his trousers.
This time her legs fell open to him easily, without any
nervousness. The neat little sex he had kissed and
sucked so shamelessly looked like a full-blown rose
now, a rose drenched in dew. She instantly closed her
legs around his waist, clasped her arms tightly around
his neck, and arched her back to receive him. She
made only the barest complaint as he broke through
her maidenhead, and then they moved, fiercely in
tune, Nature teaching her to match her rhythm to his,
until he was fairly exhausted. With a last, violent
thrust that almost frightened her with its intensity, he
emptied himself into her.

Then he rested, his body heaving as he tried to draw
breath. After a moment, he came to his senses and
raised himself on his elbows so that her body, which
was drenched in his sweat, was not crushed under
him.

"I know I should regret this, but I don't," he said,
smiling at her.

"No, indeed," she murmured, feeling shy now,
acutely aware that he was still inside her.

"Oh?" he chuckled, bending his head to tease her
nipple. "Then milady is pleased with her victory? My
honor is in shambles. My conscience in shreds. But
I am dead to shame. I don't care, if it gives you even
a little pleasure."

"Considerably more than that, my lord," she admitted, her face hot.

"Will we go again?" he asked seriously.

She felt him inside her, nudging, lengthening, and
despite a great deal of soreness between her legs,
the thrill was undeniable. "Yes, please," she moaned,
but she could not help wincing as he thrust into her
again.

"Oh, it's too much for you," he murmured, rolling
away from her.

"No," she protested, clinging to him.

"My dear girl," he said firmly. "You've had quite
enough. Don't stick your chin out at me you oughtn't
to have had any. I've indulged you too much as it is. You
do realize, don't you, that Pickering walked in on us just
now?"

Juliet sighed. "I thought I felt a draft. How awkward
for him, poor man! But I do think we were past the
most embarrassing part, don't you?"
-- - -- -- -- -- - -- - -

He shrugged into his shirt, pulled up his breecheshe still had not removed his boots!-and picked her
shades of blue dress up off the floor. Reluctantly,
she pulled it over her head, and he did his best to tie
the laces at the back. "I'm not usually this clumsy," he
apologized.

"I know it," she answered, laughing. "My piano
will never let me touch it again, now that it has been played by the master." She became serious. "Will you
play the Moonlight Sonata after dinner just for me?"

"Of course," he promised, desperately trying to
smooth her tangled hair. "Off you go, Mademoiselle
Ombre," he said, giving her rump a playful swat.
"Try not to look so bloody gorgeous at dinnerI might just leap across the table and ravish you on
the spot."

She found the little blue beaded slipper that had
rolled under the bed and sat down on the bed to slip
it onto her foot.

`Julie."

She looked up at him, startled by his serious tone.

"I wish-" he broke off, unable to find the words.
She guessed that he was thinking of Serena, and a stab
of guilt pierced her happiness. Not for Serena's sake,
but because she had made him do such a dishonorable thing as making love to one woman when he was
promised to another. But it could not be helped.
She loved him; Serena didn't. Where was the honor
in letting him marry a woman who didn't love him?

But Swale was thinking no such thing. "I was your
first," he said, falling on his knees before her and seizing her hands. "I wish to God you had been mine!"

Juliet listened in astonishment.

"I have never been with a woman who wasn't paid
for her services. I'm sorry to pain you, Julie, but I
couldn't go on without telling you the shameful truth
about me. You had every right to expect me to be as
chaste as you are, but I can't deceive you."

"I was not deceived," she assured him gently. "Young
men are expected to have ... experiences. It is the
way of the world. And perhaps, it was your experience
that made it so ... so pleasant for me." Silently, she cursed the inadequacy of the word. Pleasant! Rather,
she had been shaken to her very soul.

"Don't ever think that," he said with shocking bitterness. "The only pleasure they ever felt was when they
counted my money. Believe me, there's no comparison between what we have and that ... that cold
commerce."

She kissed him very gently on the lips. "Well, of
course there's no comparison, Ginger, you priceless
ass," she said softly. "I love you."

"What are we going to do, Julie?" he whispered. "Sir
Benedict has already told me he'll never consent to
our marriage while you're still a minor. He isn't likely
to change his mind. I thought I could do the time
standing on my head, but you ... this ... Dammit, I
want you again right now."

"Leave all that to me," she said, suppressing the unladylike desire to whoop with joy. Her gamble had
paid off. To hell with honor, she thought recklessly.
"One thing at a time, my darling. First, let the announcement appear in the papers. That will do much
of the work for us. Did you really hire men with sandwich boards?"