Texas Viscount (29 page)

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Josh felt greatly restored after a hearty supper of roast beef and potatoes. Cook had first prepared consommé and a bit of that nasty fish in aspic, but he'd sent Benton back to the kitchen to demand real food, not catfish bait. He'd even threatened to dump the hot soup over his valet's head if the poor servant did not do as he was told. Nothing brought a man up to his full strength like a good chunk of Texas—or, he conceded—English beef.

      
He’d not seen Sabrina since their encounter at his bedside earlier in the day. Gazing speculatively at the adjacent room, he considered that she’d be sleeping there in a short while. Or not. He grinned, wondering what his uncle was up to. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the old goat was matchmaking. First, he'd arranged for her to tutor him, then set up that fool weekend with the Chiffingtons, knowing full well that he'd disgrace himself in front of the marquess and his darling daughter.

      
With Sabrina there to comfort him.

      
Josh grinned. What a night that had been. And tonight would be even better, thanks to his uncle, who'd seen to it that she would be next door. First he'd have to be certain he was up to the night's exertions. He sat forward and carefully swung his long legs over the side of the bed. Then, using his good arm, he reached for the brocade dressing robe lying on the chair. He winced at the long stretch, managing to snag a sleeve and reel in the slithery garment, but before he could put it on, the door opened.

      
“What in heaven's name are you doing?” Sabrina asked as a startled Josh quickly bunched the dressing robe over strategic parts of his anatomy. Then, seeing who it was, he smiled in that slightly off-center way that made his eyes—and her heart—dance.

      
“Why, Sabbie, I was just getting up to stretch my legs, sorta work the kinks out, you know?”

      
“What I know is that you have lost much too much blood to be cavorting about without assistance. You have no reason to leave that bed,” she scolded.

      
He watched her standing in the doorway as if she might turn tail and run. “You and I both know I have every reason,” he said, casting a glance toward the adjacent room she would use tonight.

      
“Even if I were to permit it—and I hasten to add I will not—you're far too badly injured to...perform,” she finally managed, her face heating up to match the fire in her heart—and other places she refused to think about.

      
“Close that door and come here, Sabbie. We'll see how well I can perform,” he said in a husky voice. His eyes willed her to obey, but he had no idea what he'd do if she refused. After all, he wasn't about to win any foot races.

      
Sabrina stood transfixed. The need—no, she admitted, the desperate hunger—for his touch held her in thrall. If she possessed one iota of sense, she should turn and walk away. After all, he couldn't very well chase after her.

      
“I've asked you not to call me Sabbie,” she said, frozen in place as their eyes met and held.

      
“Somehow ‘Miss Edgewater' doesn't seem to work anymore. What do you want me to call you?” he asked reasonably, standing up and slipping into the robe, giving her a glimpse of his naked body as he did it. He heard her tiny intake of breath and smiled inwardly. But when he tried to take a step toward her, the room started to spin. He grabbed for the bedpost and hung on for dear life.

      
“Damned if I'll pass out at your feet a second time,” he muttered through gritted teeth, lurching toward her.

      
Sabrina was frozen during the brief interval it took for him to reach her. She only realized how badly off balance he was when she saw the dazed expression on his face as he reached over her shoulder and shoved the door closed. He tumbled against her, pinning her rather uncomfortably between him and the sharp edge of the door frame. The knob prodded in a most indelicate place. And her tailbone hurt like the very devil.

      
“If you don't release me, I shall cry down the house.” She was angry and afraid for him all at once.

      
“If I do release you, I'll fall down myself,” he whispered in her ear.

      
His breath tickled her ear as his tongue lightly circled the sensitive inner shell. Sabrina could scarcely draw her breath as he began to nuzzle her neck. His hands pressed against the door, steadying him as he continued his sensual assault. She was trapped, and the heat of his body was starting to send messages to her body, overriding what her mind was saying. He pressed kisses onto her eyelids and inhaled the scent of her hair, murmuring how sweet she always smelled, then centered his attention on her already parted lips.

      
“Like plump, juicy strawberries in spring,” he said as his mouth slanted over hers and plundered inside.

      
Her reply was to encircle his waist and dig her fingers into the hard muscles of his back. She surrendered to the kiss, letting it build and intensify, loving the way the heady warmth of it radiated through her body until everything started to melt. The world went away as they stood entwined. Her breasts pressed against his chest and the ache in her nipples rippled downward, pooling deep in her belly. His hips rocked against hers.

      
Finally, when his mouth disengaged from hers long enough to take a desperate, panting breath, she said, “If you persist in prodding me from the front while that doorknob does the same at the opposite side, I fear permanent injury, my lord.”

      
Josh felt the chuckle build from deep inside him until it rumbled through his body. “Woman, you are a caution, and that's the Lord’s own truth,” he managed to choke out as he eased himself away from her without lowering his arms, which still imprisoned her. The injured arm hurt like hell on a hot afternoon, but he was too preoccupied to notice until he shifted his weight slightly to his left.

      
An involuntary grimace of pain betrayed him. Seeing it, Sabrina pulled his right arm over her shoulder and helped him toward the bed. “You should not be up yet,” she scolded.

      
“Darlin’, I've been
up
ever since I kissed you. The question, seems to me, is what are we going to do about it?”

      
It was not a question and she knew it as she began lowering him back onto the wide mattress. Instead of letting go of her arm, he pulled her with him and they both tumbled backwards. Somehow he managed to land on top. As his mouth brushed hers, she murmured, “At least the bed is softer than the door frame.”

      
“Now you're only poked from one side,” he whispered.

      
“You’re vulgar for a viscount.” Sabrina didn't sound particularly concerned about the character flaw.

      
“Darlin’, I'm vulgar for a Texan.”

      
“You need more lessons,” she murmured dreamily, burying her hands in his thick, black hair.

      
“Never said I wasn't quick to learn.”

Chapter Fourteen

      
Josh braced his weight on his good elbow and reached over to cup her breast with his injured hand. The pain lanced up his arm. “You're gonna have to be real gentle with me. I'm an invalid,” he whispered as he massaged a tiny circle around the hard tip he could feel through the layers of her clothing. “You have too many duds on. In my condition, I can't get you out of them, so...”

      
When he lay back flat on the bed beside her, she started to sit up, a concerned expression on her face, saying, “You're in pain.”

      
“Oh, God, yes, the swelling's unbearable.” He yanked the tie of his robe loose with his good hand and flung the garment open, revealing his pulsing erection.

      
“Oh, my. It must be,” she whispered, unable to keep from staring at the splendid maleness of him—proof that he was indeed ready to perform. But how could he if he couldn't support his weight on his arms?

      
In answer to her unspoken question, he drawled, “I

have a plan. First, will you get undressed for me, please?”

      
“Since you asked so nicely,” she agreed shyly, not sure she could do it. “Is this Step One of your plan?” The light outside was fading rapidly but still it was considerably brighter than moonlight. Could she actually strip off her clothing while he watched her? Sabrina took a deep, shivery breath and fumbled with the buttons running down her blouse. As the sheer cotton gaped open, revealing the deep vale between her breasts, she heard him gasp.

      
Not daring to look at him, she unfastened the cuffs, then worked at the belt of her skirt, pulling it free. But there was still so much clothing in the way. Unlike their first lovemaking, this time she was wearing a corset and a full array of undergarments, right down to stockings and garters.

      
She hesitated.

      
He coaxed.

      
“Slide the blouse from the waistband and get rid of it. Let me touch them.” Her breasts responded as if he were speaking directly to them, the nipples puckering even tighter, the ache deepening. She obeyed, pulling the blouse free and peeling down the long, fitted sleeves, tossing it onto the floor as she sat beside him on the bed. His right hand cupped a breast through the sheer lace of her chemise, and she could not muffle the soft moan his caress elicited. He moved to the other breast, lifting it in silent praise, then rubbed the palm of his hand across both of them until her nipples protruded brazenly.

      
“Now, pull that soft covering over your head,” he instructed as he lifted the edge of her chemise and allowed her to complete the task, revealing her corset-clad waist with breasts peeping over the top. The nipples were rosy and puckered as the sheer fabric grazed over them before floating to the floor beside the bed.

      
Josh didn't know how much longer he could wait. She was unused to undressing in front of a man, and that rig she wore would take some time to undo. He did what Americans were noted for. He improvised. “Okay, that's enough of Step One of the plan. Now for Step Two,” he whispered hoarsely. “Climb aboard, darlin'.”

      
Sabrina was amazed when he lifted her thigh and placed it over his hips so that she was straddling him. “What are you doing?” she asked, frankly puzzled and a bit uneasy.

      
“Just raise your skirts, love,” he instructed calmingly, tugging at the bunched fabric on his right side.

      
“Oh!” She quickly caught on, freeing her other knee of the skirt and petticoat, baring her legs. The clothing became wadded at her waist. But she did not notice because his hand slipped over the curve of her hip and glided upward, caressing the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. He moved unerringly toward his ultimate goal. Nimble fingers found the front fastening of her under drawers and slipped inside the narrow placket, pulling it open, reaching her heat.

      
How slick and sweet she was, how wet and ready for him. He watched her lashes fan over her cheeks as she arched against the persuasion of his hand, letting her hips rock as he caressed. Although he'd never cared for the confounded things, her corset emphasized the tininess of her waist and lifted her breasts like an offering. He drank in her soft whimpers of pleasure as he brought her to the brink and watched as she tumbled over it.

      
When the storm of ecstasy had passed, Sabrina's eyes fluttered open. She was dazed yet still aware of his rigid staff pressed against her inner thigh. “How...what...Oh, dear ...”

      
“Shhh,” he murmured. Sweat beaded his face as he used his left arm, but he ignored the pain, positioning her hips over him, then pulling the placket of her drawers open and guiding himself to paradise.

      
When she felt the scalding heat and hardness rubbing delicately against her, Sabrina was lost, hungry all over again, bold and shameless in her wanting.

      
“Ride me, darlin’,” he pleaded.

      
She sank onto him in awe, feeling him fill her, buried to the hilt. When he arched up, his hips bucking beneath her, she caught the rhythm and began to raise, then lower herself on him.
Ride me.
Mindlessly, she did just that, falling forward, her hands eagerly bracing against the hardness of his chest, fingers buried in springy dark hair. He pulled her closer, raising his head to suckle at her breasts, his mouth wetting the hardened nipples that protruded over the top of her corset.

      
He murmured words of praise, of encouragement, of love, but they were both so wildly inflamed by the passion consuming them that neither was aware of the latter. Sabrina sobbed and convulsed, peaking once more, her body clenching fiercely around him until she felt him stiffen, swell and shudder in perfect sync with her. They rode to the end of the rainbow together and then, gently, ever so slowly, came back.