The Last of Lady Lansdown (19 page)

“You know me better than that.”

“I never regretted it, not one single time. Over the years I’ve kept my fond memories.” A sly smile crossed Grandma Harriet’s face. “I’ve never forgotten those times I spent in the barn with Daniel, rolling in the hay, all sweaty and panting, feeling such passion that never again ... oh, what that man could do to me.” Granny closed her eyes. When she opened them, her faraway expression had disappeared. “Ah, well, nothing stays the same in this life, but I’m telling you one thing, Jane. When you’re eighty years old, and feeble, and walk with a cane, you will regret you didn’t go after what you really wanted in this world.”

“So you think I should see Douglas?”

Granny shrugged. “That’s for you to decide.” She struggled to stand. “Cursed legs. Give me a hand.”

Jane slid from the bed and pulled Granny to her feet. “I’ll be thinking about what you said.”

“See that you do, or you’ll end up with nothing to remember except what a proper lady you were and how you always obeyed the rules.”

The minute her grandmother left, Jane made up her mind. She would see Douglas tomorrow, and nothing would stand in her way. As for Beatrice, how could she deal with someone who hated her and wished her harm?

She didn’t know. Perhaps Douglas could help.

Jane awoke the next morning to another disappointment. Fifteen days and still nothing. Even so, she could not bring herself to believe she could possibly be carrying Arthur’s child. Besides, today she had only one thought in mind. She was going to see Douglas, provided he had not gone off to tend to his canal. How? She could hear Mama now.
No lady ever, ever would dream of visiting an unmarried man. I do not care what the circumstances
.

Much as she might want to flout the rules, she could never bring herself to commit such a basic breach of etiquette. Then how to arrange a rendezvous? Of course, the answer was plain. She would send him a note and ask him to meet her ... where? Under the tree by the river? The cows would love it, but the spot was too open. Better yet, they could meet at the dower house, which nestled nearly hidden among the tall elm and poplar trees. She sat at her writing table, selected a piece of note paper and picked up her pen. What to write?

Dear Douglas, I am desperate to see you ...

True but she wasn’t about to wear her heart on her sleeve.

Dear Douglas, my life is in danger and I need your help...

Also true, but much too dramatic.

Dear Douglas, I am dying for the warmth of your kiss ...

Truest of all
, she thought with a giggle, but no.

My Dear Mr. Cartland,

If it is not inconvenient, could you meet me at the dower house at two this afternoon?

With utmost kind regards,

—
Jane Lansdown

Perfect. She affixed her seal on the note and summoned a footman. “Take this to Mister Douglas Cartland at Lancaster Hall. If he’s not there, come tell me. If he’s there, wait for his reply.”

The answer came within an hour.

My Dear Countess,

Yes.

—Cartland

His reply could not have been more brief, but even so, an undercurrent of excitement coursed through her veins at the thought that she would see him again. What to wear? Absolutely not black. Ignoring Bruta’s look of reproach, she donned her blue riding habit. Bruta drew her hair into curls piled high atop her head. When finished, she held up the matching hat with the high-standing feathers. “Do not forget the hat, madam.”

“Not today.” She laughed to herself, remembering Douglas’ joke about her hat flying away. But why should Douglas Cartland decree what she should wear? Why shouldn’t she wear the hat if she wanted to? “I’ve changed my mind, Bruta. Bring it here.”

Carrying her riding crop and a carrot for Beauty, Jane slipped out of the house and walked down the slope to the field next to the stables where Timothy daily turned out the horses. She found her horse grazing contentedly, and when she called, Beauty came running and nuzzled her nose up against Jane’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you,” she said, running an affectionate hand down Beauty’s nose. She fed her the carrot. “If only the rains will stay away, I shall ride you every day.”

She led Beauty to the stable and saddled her, declining Timothy’s help. “I love doing this.” When she was done, the stableman gave her a boost, and off she went, wanting to put Beauty into a gallop but refraining in favor of keeping a dignified pace.

When she arrived at the dower house, her heart leapt at the sight of Thunder tethered to one of the oak trees. Then she saw Douglas lounging on the steps, his long legs stretched before him. He waved a lazy hand. “Good afternoon, your ladyship.”

“Good afternoon.” She slid from the saddle and tethered Beauty next to Thunder. Must not appear too eager. Keeping a dignified pace, she took her time walking to the portico where he stood waiting, her note held conspicuously in his hand. He unfolded it with a flourish and peered at its contents.

“I am confounded by this message. It says you actually
wish
to see me.”

“That is correct,” she answered with an expression of complete unconcern.

“Hmm, I find that rather strange. If memory serves, at our last meeting, I received the distinct impression I was never to darken your door again.”

“That’s true, Mister Cartland, but circumstances change.” She was proud of herself for maintaining an icy exterior, not easy when the very sight of him set her pulse racing. She searched for the jar under the mulberry bush, pulled out the key and stepped toward the door. “Shall we go in?”

“By all means.”

After they stepped inside and she’d shut the door, he looked around the small entryway, then peered into the drawing room. “It’s small for a dower house.”

“It might be small, but I would rather live here a hundred times over than keep on in that drafty old mansion with the Eltons.”

“Are you all right?”

“For the moment. Beatrice tried it, you know.”

“Used the oil of pennyroyal?”

“Oh, indeed.” Jane described in detail her harrowing close call. “Thanks to you, I didn’t drink a drop, and I’m most grateful. I wanted to let you know.”

He didn’t bother with a thank you. Instead, a worried expression crossed his face. “You’re still not safe.”

“I’m aware of that, but what can I do?” She described her conversation with Sir Archibald.

“You must come immediately to Lancaster Hall,” Douglas answered without hesitation. “Your family, too.”

“I cannot. I know my mother wouldn’t come. Neither would Granny. Tongues would wag if I came alone. Besides, I won’t give Beatrice the satisfaction of knowing she’s driven me out of the house.”

“That’s foolish.”

“I know, but I do have my pride.”

“That you do, Countess.” Douglas gave an exasperated sigh. “Now tell me, was there anything else?”

“No.”

Yes, there’s something else. I was desperate to see you again. I want your arms around me. I want your kiss. I want the feel of you ...

“You mean you lured me to your dower house only for this? I am crushed.”

She felt a blush creeping over her cheeks. “There might be other reasons.”

He looked at her hat. “Good grief! I see it’s flown back. You really must put it in a cage.”

She started to laugh, and he laughed, too. Their laughter broke the constraints between them, and she suddenly felt relaxed, if not downright emboldened. Reaching up, she removed a jeweled pin and pulled off her hat. “To be perfectly clear, I did not lure you to the dower house solely to tell you the latest news concerning Beatrice.” She flung the hat to a far corner and looked him square in the eye. “I came to the dower house because I wanted to see you again.” There. How bold was that? She had just broken countless rules for proper female behavior and didn’t care one whit.

Her response caused him to draw in an abrupt, deep breath, as if he’d received a shock. He gripped her arms in a vice-like hold and peered at her intently, a smoldering gleam in his eyes. “I would have stayed away, but you’ve done it now, Countess.” Pulling her close, he took her mouth with savage intensity. With eager abandon, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed her body close to his, all the way down, so she could feel every hard inch of him, especially
there
, where his hardness pressed against her. He moved his hands to her hips and slid them upwards, causing her flesh to burn with desire wherever he touched. His hands reached her breasts. Despite three layers of clothing, the delicious sensation of his thumbs brushing across her nipples made desire surge through her veins.

He pulled his mouth away and began to shower her with tiny, fluttery kisses, above each eyebrow, down her nose to the tip, on to her chin, down to the hollow of her neck, where he planted a particularly tantalizing kiss. Raising his head again to graze her earlobe with his mouth, he asked in a heated breath, “Where’s the nearest bed?”

Even in the haze of passion that enveloped her, she knew if ever there was a time when she should back away and say,
No bed, no more kisses, remember Sir Archibald
, this was it
.
With her heart thumping erratically and her breasts tingling from his mere touch, she was powerless to push him away. “Through there.” She nodded toward the dining room. The kitchen and servants’ quarters, where she intended to take him, lay beyond.

“Then let’s go before I ... Let’s go.”

He scooped her into his arms as if she were a feather and carried her through the dining room and kitchen. When he reached the maid’s room, he gently eased her down so that she sat on the edge of the narrow bed. “You’re overdressed.” He slipped off her jacket and pulled the cambric shirt over her head, causing the two combs that held her hair in place to loosen. “Not laced?” He viewed her soft batiste chemise.

“I hate corsets.”

“Then all the less work for me.” He pulled the chemise over her head, leaving her breasts fully exposed. “Beautiful.” His breath came hard. “You are beautiful.” She thought her own breath would stop as he guided her down to the pillow. Bruta’s carefully constructed coiffure had fallen completely apart. With her long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders, she gazed up at him, her mind flashing back to that magical time by the river when she lay beneath him, just like this, her breasts fully exposed to the warm sun and to this man whom, she realized now, she had no power to resist. He pulled off his jacket and shirt and flung them to the floor. Then, propped up on an elbow beside her, he began kissing her again, letting his fingers brush lightly over her breasts, tracing each curve with a gentle touch. Occasionally he allowed a finger to brush across her nipples, sending exquisite currents of desire running through her.
Please stay there
, she silently cried each time his fingers found her nipples, but he always moved on, only to return and stay longer each time. At last he raised his head. “I am not going to stop, you know.” His words caused a spurt of hungry passion to spiral through her, and when she felt his lips suddenly cover one of her erect nipples, she gasped and dug her fingers into his back. He raised his lips. “It’s good?”

“Oh, very good,” she whispered, “please do more.”

His lips went to her nipple again, and now she felt his tongue tenderly playing over the exquisitely sensitive tip. Suddenly the rough part of his tongue dragged across it. Then he sucked hard, the very sound of sucking causing her to bite her lips so she wouldn’t scream out. He sucked again, and again, then started on the other nipple. Meanwhile his hand found the hem of her skirt and slid up her leg, between her thighs, to the damp spot where the exquisite sweetness of his sucking had caused her to ache with fiery desire. His fingers barely touched her there, but the feeling was so intense she heard herself whimpering and had to consciously refrain from digging her fingernails into his back. “You’re ready.”

“Yes, oh, yes.”

In a twinkling, he unbuttoned her waistband and pulled off her skirt and chemise beneath so that she lay completely naked beneath him. In another twinkling, he pulled off his boots and the rest of his clothes and lay beside her. “Feel.” He picked up her hand and guided it to his erect cock. “Big enough?”

She gripped his throbbing member and raised her head to look. It was huge. “I believe it will be quite adequate,” she managed to quip despite her driving urge to feel him inside her. She gripped it firmly, thrilled to be holding the most intimate part of Douglas Cartland in her hand.

“It’s time.” He spread her legs apart and knelt between them. Sliding his hands beneath her, he cupped her hips and lifted her toward him. Holding her in place, he slid a slight way inside her. “I won’t go quickly.”

“Please don’t,” she gasped, feeling how very big he was, wondering how he could get all that inside. “I’m not supposed to be a virgin but I pretty much am.”

“Pretty much?” He slipped a bit farther in. “Did his lordship get this far?”

“Just about there. I do believe ... oh yes!” The feel of his male flesh inside her sent another warm pulse through her body.

He slid in farther still. “Then we will put a definite end to your virginal status, my dear Lady Lansdown.”

She squirmed beneath him and gripped his shoulders tight. “Please do.”

Strong and decisive, he plunged all the way inside her and began a series of strokes that sent her nerve endings singing with pleasure. Each time he stroked her, she raised her hips to meet him, warm skin to warm skin. Together they fell into a perfect harmony of pleasure. She breathed in deep drafts as each stroke brought her closer to a peak of pleasure, until finally, waves of ecstasy throbbed through her and she heard herself sob his name, her entire body shaking as the blinding magnificence of her orgasm claimed her.

“Done?”

“Oh, yes.”

He drove one more time inside her. A wild rhythm overtook him and he pounded deep and hard until he threw back his head and cried out, his features rigid with a wrenching climax. With a satisfied moan, he collapsed on top of her, then rolled off so that they lay in each other’s arms for a time, completely spent, in a kind of satiated languor. Never had she felt so content, so completely happy with Douglas Cartland lying by her side. Eventually he raised himself on one elbow. Twisting one of her auburn strands around his finger, he remarked, “We must do this again.”