The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife (70 page)

He cupped her face in
gentle hands. “Thank God. Now we can begin again. Only this time,
love, I know who I am and our marriage will be very real.” He
punctuated each word with a kiss. “This time you won’t be worried
I might kill you, you’ll know who I am – the man who loves you
above all else -- and there will be no Foster stopping us from
finishing what we started.”

“No Foster?” Would
he really send her best friend away?

“Not in our bedroom,
I mean. He’ll be too busy keeping our children in line.”

A shiver of sheer
excitement pulsed through her at the thought of having his children.
“I’ve told him it’s time he retired.”

“Do you think he’ll
ever be able to leave you, sweetheart?” The disbelief in his tone
made clear his thoughts on the matter. “There will always be room
for Foster in our family. I have the perfect cottage in mind for him
to retire to when he’s had enough of us and our brood.”

“Brood?”

“Oh yes, my beautiful
darling, I don’t see how we can avoid it with all the time I intend
us to spend making up for all those untimely interruptions.”

She leaned back in his
arms to glance at the painting once more. “You’ve made me look
beautiful. But I don’t look anything like that. It must be your
idealized view of me.”

“You think?” It was
clear he disagreed.

“Well, you’ve never
seen me like that…”

At his silence, she
turned an alarmed look on him, “Have you?”

“No, no. This was
done purely from my imagination. But now would be the perfect time to
find out just how accurate my imagination is, don’t you think?”
He scooped her up into his arms. “Shall we try out our new sitting
room?”

She was surprised not
to be lowered onto the daybed. Instead, he let her body slide down
his chest. The exhilarating friction of their bodies meeting sent
sparks shooting up her spine until she stood, shivering with
excitement in his arms. His large hands gripped her bottom to pull
her close to him. She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal
straining against her. Her legs went weak.

There was no holding
back this time. He lowered his mouth to hers to bestow a warm,
persuasive kiss. She responded with everything stored up inside her.

He tasted of brandy,
which she loathed, but on his breath it became a potent elixir that
went straight to her head.

Her unconditional
response set flame to his desire. He deepened the kiss, parting her
lips, urging her higher, hotter. Receptive to his every touch, his
every caress, she was plunged into a whirling vortex of sensation.
Her wits scrambled; her senses swirled.

His kisses promised
forever. Claimed her as his. Pledged to be hers.

She felt all this in
his kiss and strove to match his intensity. No longer was she content
to allow him complete mastery of their lovemaking. She was through
being passive. She wanted to be a full participant in their shared
passion. Her hands reached to hold him nearer. She smoothed them
along his wide shoulders and up to wind around his neck.

At last, she was free
to let her emotions speak. With everything revealed, with no more
secrets between them, there was no need to hold back. Their kiss
deepened, racing from chaste to lustful, from barely controlled to
wildly abandoned. Her tongue slid out to coast along his lips. He
groaned and drew it in to meet his in a sensual duel. Fire caught and
flared into an inferno of fiery passion and blazing emotion. In
seconds, they were tossed from hot to scorching. Flung into reckless
adventure, tempestuous exploration.

Boldly, her tongue
coupled with his. Passionately, she matched his every touch, his
every nip, nibble and caress.

Tightening his hold,
his hand grasped the back of her head and, tugging it back to gaze
into her eyes, he growled, “This time we finish what we’ve
started, sweetheart. No lies between us. This is forever, wife of
mine.”

Her throat was so full
she couldn’t speak, but her tremulous smile told him all he needed
to know. His thumb under her chin guided her neck to the side where
his lips settled to plunder. He followed the sensitive chord with
moist kisses. Waves of excited pleasure raced through her.

He pulled away and she
resisted. “I’m just getting us more comfortable.” He turned her
around and helped her remove her jacket, then turned her back and
undid her cravat. “Foster’s deft touch, I presume?”

She nodded, but she was
more interested in the glimpses of his chest she was catching. He
loosened her cuffs. She thought he’d remove her shirt next, but he
surprised her by turning her around and placing her back to his
front.

Resting his chin on her
shoulder, he said, “See.” And indicated she should look in front
of her. At the mirror? What was so unusual about it?

He moved his body in
closer behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, his
thumbs gently rubbing the tense muscles there.

She moaned and closed
her eyes. That felt so good. Climbing the vine had strained her arm
muscles. Now she understood his groans when she’d plied his sore
muscles. His curing touch could become addictive.

His hands continued to
tighten and loosen over her aching muscles — squeeze-release,
squeeze-release.

Bliss!

He continued his
healing, yet stimulating journey down her arms.

Silently she urged him
to hurry. He’d taught her there was better bliss to be found down
this path.

“Watch us.” His low
command triggered sparks skittering along her nerves.

She sent him a startled
look in the mirror. He wanted her to...? Her eyes dropped and were
caught by the motion of his hands and she began following each
tingling touch as he caressed and coasted down her stomach toward
more fertile ground. Down they went, then they reversed paths to
slide, like roughened silk, up her sides, slipping under her breasts
to cup them. An excited quiver shuddered through her entire body. Her
hands came up to hold onto his wrists, not to stop their tantalizing
journey, but to join it.

His long, slender
fingers circled her breasts, lifting them — an offering to a pagan
god. He murmured soft yet ardent praise for their exquisiteness,
their perfect size, their soft firmness. She glanced up and saw he
was closely watching her reaction in the mirror. Their eyes met. He
held her gaze as he molded her with his clever hands as if he were
sculpting a work of art, smiling at her sighs of almost painful
pleasure.

Hurting had never felt
so good.

He bent to nuzzle the
side of her neck under her ear, traced a line of slow, drugging
kisses from the base of her throat up the sensitive chord to meet her
jaw line and on up to her mouth. Angling her sideways, he allowed her
eyes to part from the mirror while they shared breath-stealing,
searing kisses. Then, he shifted her forward, toward the mirror, once
again. “Keep your eyes on us,” he bade.

His hand slid down to
cover her mound, shards of fire flared and burned a path straight to
the depths of her passion. All rational thought scrambled. Her body
felt turned upside down and inside out. Like an automaton that
reacted to his every touch, it felt his every breath against her
neck, responded to his every husky encouragement. She tried to turn
her head to look into those stormy, sea-colored eyes she loved so
well, but his hand gently guided her gaze back to the looking glass.

“Pay attention,” he
again commanded.

His soft lips continued
their teasing journey. He breathed words of love into her ear. One
bold finger slipped between her nether lips to find the nub where the
nucleus of her passion converged. She trembled helplessly and closed
her eyes against the dizzying sensations bombarding her, distracting
her from instantly noticing the sudden cool air gracing her breasts.

“Look, love.” In
one, smooth motion, he lifted her shirt over her head and off and
pulled down her chemise. His thumbs found her taut nipples, rubbing
across their turgid tips, causing them to ache and harden.

Her legs threatened to
crumple beneath her.
Gracious!
Even her private wondering, her wildest dreams had never imagined
herself in this position.

He’d discarded his
robe and his bronzed arms contrasted with the pale cream of her
exposed breasts. She looked like a wanton. Mesmerized by the image in
front of her, she watched in silent amazement while his big,
beautiful hands caressed her breasts sending quivers shooting through
her from tip to toe. Her eyes instinctively shut on seeing herself so
exposed.

“No, don’t close
your eyes. Look!” he insisted.

Opening them a slit,
she instinctively tried to cover herself with her hands, but he
caught them in one of his, pulling them up above her head and back,
where he took each finger into his mouth to lave it with the tip of
his tongue and nibble on it tenderly before bestowing passionate
kisses in each palm.

Wanting to close her
eyes against the portrait this made, she caught his beseeching look
not to, and acquiesced. Intending to steal just a quick glance, she
was soon riveted by the sight in the mirror. Her raised arms thrust
her chest forward and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. He pulled
the flap of her breeches open and tugged at the oversized pants
sending them sliding onto the floor at her feet.

Fascinated, she looked
with her artist’s eye at the sensual cameo in the looking glass.
She had the fleeting thought that, if only she had her pencil, she
could capture their erotic pose, the intense emotion in their
faces.... But all thought vanished when he spun her around and knelt
in front of her.

He leaned in to anoint
the tip of each breast with a chaste kiss like a parent rewarding a
child for being good.

“Look,” he again
murmured against her skin.

Puzzled, she looked and
found an identical mirror standing behind him, casting their image
back to front and front to back. She’d experimented with this
drawing technique several times a few years back, but she could never
have imagined how captivating it would be when used as a tool of
seduction.

He’d planned this
well.

“Ever since I got
back and found you gone,” he said.

Had she spoken aloud or
had he again read her mind?

She had no time to
ponder that before she was ensnared, by the reflection she was
seeing. Those broad shoulders, his smooth, strong back and muscled
buttocks. She wanted to touch him everywhere. But he easily quelled
her attempt by covering one of her breasts with his mouth and laving
it with roughened tongue, then suckling it gently.

She felt the pull all
the way down to her woman’s core. Instinctively, her hips thrust
upwards against him. The memory of how she’d come apart in his arms
the other night, when he’d stroked her there, filled her mind. The
sight of his hands gliding down her back to grasp her bottom as his
mouth followed a similar path down her front to find the heart of her
feminine passion, left no room for remembering.

“No! You mustn’t!”
She plunged her hands into his thick silky hair, clutching his head,
wanting to pull it up and away.

“It will give you
more pleasure, I promise you.” He paused to see if she would insist
and, when she hesitated. he once again set his mouth to ravishing her
woman’s core. And she was quickly conquered.

Still scandalized…
assaulted by the very idea and image of what he was doing, she tried
to keep her eyes closed, but willy-nilly they wouldn’t...
couldn’t... remain shut. First, they insisted on opening a mere
slit, then they widened and watched, enthralled, while he conjured
sensations inside her, deftly, like an artist creating a painting on
canvas, swirling with colors from soothing indigo to hot crimson.
Soon he added a scorching sun to the fiery sight that dazzled her so.
Her vision blurred and a buzzing, burning, all-encompassing feeling
swept through her.

“Please!” She was
barely aware she’d voiced her wish.

“What, sweetheart?
Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”
She wasn’t sure what she wanted, she only knew she ached for...
more. For him to be closer, his strong body cradling hers. “I want
to feel all of you... “I want you to finish it... properly,
completely this time.” Still too bashful to be more blatant, she
gave up trying to explain. But she needn’t have worried, he
understood and took charge. Standing, he once more swept her into his
arms.

“Ah Tally, my
beautiful Talia, my dearest little wife. How I’ve dreamt... craved
this since first awaking without my memory.” His low, deep tone
vibrated against her. She lifted her lips to catch his and laced her
arms around his neck.

He moved to the bed
and, coming down on one knee, lay her down gently. His arms moved to
hold himself above her. Slowly he lowered his body onto hers. A
powerful trembling pulsed through her. He paused, giving her moments
to accustom herself to his weight, his feel. She reveled in the
weight of his hard body covering hers.

“Now. I can’t wait
any…” She didn’t know what she was saying... thinking.

“Nor can I, my
sweetheart.” He slid over to kneel between her legs, raising
himself, poised to enter her. His attention was suddenly snagged by
the look on her face, seeing his erection for the first time. He had
to stifle a laugh at the incredulity he glimpsed in her widened eyes.

“But it won’t fit –
surely!” She sounded shocked.

He sensed her
withdrawing and hurried to reassure her. Brushing her hair from her
damp forehead, he said, “It will. Trust me.” Her worried eyes
told him she remained skeptical. “Please.”

She gazed at him warily
for suspended moments. Moments he took advantage of to fondle her
breasts and kiss those huge eyes shut, praying she would find the
courage. He almost collapsed with relief when she whispered, “I do
trust you.”