Wedded in Scandal (24 page)

“I know the mechanics,” she said. “Mama explained it to me years ago. I just…I don’t understand how it can happen.”

She was petting him slowly, measuring the size of him, and he was breathless from the exquisiteness of her exploration.

“We will fit,” he managed, though he had precious little control of his reason. “This I swear to you. We will fit beautifully.”

She did not remove her hand, but her touch slowed, her strokes stopped. A moment later, he was able to open his eyes and look at her.

“Don’t you understand?” she said softly. “Lying with you is such an irretrievable step. I know my reputation is already damned. I know it, and yet, someday there might be a man who loves me. I would want to go to our wedding night a virgin.”

He nodded. He understood her words, but they were at distinct odds with her actions. “Why did you come here tonight?”

She laughed, and he heard desperation in the sound. “Do you know how long it has been since someone talked to me about anything but clothing and money? Since a…a man touched me the way I wanted to be touched?” She shook her head. “I could not force myself to give up this treat. But that does not mean I wish to be deflowered, either.”

She removed her hand from his body and placed it neatly in her lap. Her face held regret and longing, but nothing compared to the anguish he felt at the loss of her caress.

He cleared his throat, struggling to gather his wits. “As to deflowering, Helaine, there is much that can be done without loss of virginity.”

Her eyes widened and he could tell he’d surprised her. “Something beyond kissing?”

He groaned. “Did you imagine that there was nothing else? A kiss or the full deed?”

She bit her lip and looked toward the fire. “I had wondered, but there seemed little point in speculating.”

He pushed up onto his elbow so he could face her more closely. And then he stroked her cheek. He went slowly, their gazes locked, letting her stop him when he went too fast. She barely moved, and so he caressed her cheek, then rolled his thumb over her lips. Her mouth was open slightly and he could feel the moist curl of her breath around his thumb. Without breaking the connection of their gazes, he trailed his fingers down her neck and across her bodice. Her breath
caught and held, but she did not stop him. And soon he was able to cup her breast in his palm and stroke his thumb across her tight nipple.

Her mouth opened even more, and her eyelids fluttered. She probably didn’t even realize it, but she also lifted her chest the tiniest bit so that she settled more fully into his palm.

“There is so much that can be done without the loss of virginity,” he said. “Will you trust me to be careful? To show you pleasure without taking your innocence?”

She grabbed his wrist, stilling his movements. “I believe my innocence is in tatters at my feet right now.”

Now he did smile. “There are different levels of innocence, don’t you think? How old are you, Helaine?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Much too old for naïveté. Any man who loves you will expect that you have experienced something of life.”

She pulled his hand away from her breast, but kept it between her palms as she rested them in her lap. She did not know what he could do to her with just a simple shift of his fingers.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

He paused, wondering what he really did believe. “I think that there are more choices for women beyond wife and mistress. You are proof of that. You are a dressmaker and a business owner. And I think that if you choose to experience all that life can offer, then no man should damn you for it.”

“Just me,” she whispered. “And the man I might one day marry.”

“Is there a man?” He could scarce believe the alarm that shot through him at that thought. What if she had already selected someone? What if she knew—

“No one,” she said. “But I would like to think I could find love.” Her lips curved in a soft smile. “That is the wonder of not being the child of an earl. I have the luxury of marrying who I want. I can choose a man for love.”

He knew that she was in truth the daughter of an earl,
but that an honorable marriage among his set was impossible. So perhaps she had the right of it. As plain Mrs. Mortimer, she did have options that he did not. She could marry any man she chose with no one to say she was marrying down.

“
Mrs
. Mortimer is not a virgin. Perhaps you should embrace your identity completely.”

She laughed at that, a sweet shimmer of sound that was real humor. “Surely you have better arguments than that, my lord.”

He smiled. “Only one. So much has been taken from you, Helaine. Allow me to give you an evening’s pleasure. That is why you came here, is it not? To have one evening of joy? I swear I will not take your virginity, my dear. Do you trust my word of honor?”

“Yes,” she said, though the word was barely more than a breath of air.

“Then kiss me again, Helaine. Place your hands here, on my chest.” He guided her palms to rest just below his shoulders. When the feelings became too intense, she could raise her arms to grip his shoulders or lower them to do what he had already taught her. “And let me give you something special.”

He kissed her. He went slowly because he had more respect for her now, and more awareness of her needs. He teased her lips, he stroked his tongue across the seam, and he slipped inside. He didn’t dominate, but he played with her. And when she relaxed into his kiss, he slid his hands around behind her back.

His fingers were deft as they slid the buttons from their holes. Her gown began to open, the shoulders slipping down. He felt her awareness of the change. Felt her tremble in anxiety, so he renewed his efforts with the kiss. And he slid his hands up from her buttons to stroke her bare flesh revealed. The base of her neck, the elegant curve of her shoulders, and the long sweep of her arms as he pushed her dress down.

Her chemise was in the way. It was a thin piece of cheap cotton, and he mentally decided to buy her a new one of
sheerest silk. Especially since he had no patience with the thing. There were no straps, and he had no desire to break their kiss to lift it off her head.

He tore it, the flinch in his conscience eased by the decision to buy her a dozen new chemises. But it was nothing compared to her reaction. The low rasp as the fabric tore had her pulling back, her eyes wide and her lips wet from his kiss.

“What did you do?”

“Only this,” he said as he gently, slowly, and deliberately pulled her torn chemise from her body. It was still trapped beneath her gown, so the steady tug caressed her skin the way he wanted to. It abraded her nipples and made her shiver in delight. Or so he hoped.

“Trust me,” he whispered as he tossed the thing away. Her dress was barely held up, the neckline caught on the swell of her breasts. Her skin was flushed and her body taut. She was like a young deer torn between immobility and a full-out bolt. So he petted her as he would a terrified animal. He stroked his fingers gently along her shoulder, his thumb brushing the prominent line of her collarbone. Her skin was flushed, and her breath suspended, so he continued talking just to reassure her.

“Some nakedness is required, Helaine. But you can trust me.”

Then he leaned forward and began kissing along her neck. The position was awkward as she was sitting before him, her legs tucked to the side. But he managed to do what he needed. He pressed tiny kisses along her collarbone, to her sternum, then eventually to the top of her breast, where the gown restrained him.

He felt her relax into his attention, her breath easing out on a long sigh of delight. So he decided to be bolder. He lifted his hands, cupped a breast with one hand while the other tugged her gown down to her waist. Then, before she could react, he caught one pert nipple in his mouth and began to suck.

He could tell no one had done such a thing to her ever
before. She perhaps had never even conceived that a man could do this. Her body arched as if it had been struck by lightning. Her hands rose immediately to his shoulders, holding him tightly.

He did not stop, did not release her. He began to suck in rhythmic timing that had her swaying forward and back in time to his motions. While one hand lifted her breast into the better position for his mouth, the other boldly gripped her free nipple and began to squeeze it.

She began to shake, her body coming alive beneath his mouth and hand. It was the work of a moment to ease her down to the floor, though he had to scramble at the last moment to cushion her head with the pillow. Now he had full movement with her reclined and him on his knees above her. There was so much he could do to her from this vantage point. But instead of pursuing her down, he took a moment to look at her.

She was naked from the waist up, and the fire continued to touch her skin with golden light. The rosy blush of her skin, the lifted puckering of her nipples, and the slightly dazed look in her eyes had his blood demanding more.

“Lift your hips,” he said, his hands going to where her dress pooled about her hips. “Let me see you naked.”

Her eyes widened, the dazed confusion rapidly shifting to alarm. “Robert…,” she began, but he wasn’t listening. He had the strength and the leverage he needed. He knew how to do this. His work with the patients at the Chandler had long since taught him how to quickly and efficiently strip a woman. So he did.

He pushed his hands beneath her slender body, looped his thumbs into the curve of her gown, and stripped the thing away. Between one breath and the next, her dress was gone. Except for her stockings and shoes, she was naked and laid out before him for the taking.

Helaine knew the moment she was in trouble. Up until
now, she had seen passion in Robert’s eyes. Desire, humor, even frustration had slipped across his features. But never had she seen that dark possessive glint in him. Not until he had looked down at her half-naked body and decided he wanted more. At that moment he had switched from friend and possible lover to a man bending the world to his will. Then he had stripped off the rest of her gown and she had gone from slightly dazed to frightened in the space of a heartbeat.

She scrambled backward, but wasn’t fast enough. He clamped a hand on her ankle, and his dark eyes widened in surprise.

“Helaine?” he asked, his voice frighteningly soft. “Where are you going?”

“No,” she said as she struggled futilely to free her foot. “No, you have gone too far.”

His nostrils flared and his hand tightened on her ankle. “Too far? I have done nothing you did not want or allow.”

She frowned, damning herself for daring to believe this was possible. That she could enjoy the company of a man
without it turning ugly. “Not me, you dolt,” she snapped. “You have lost control of yourself; you have gone too far in your own mind. Now let go!”

She kicked hard with her foot. She meant to simply jerk her ankle out of his hand, but she connected with his hip in the process. Her toes crumpled against his bone, and he grunted at the impact. Sadly, it did nothing to help her escape. If anything, his hand gripped even tighter.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “I am no different than I was a moment before. If you will just relax, then you will see.”

She grimaced. His tone, his touch, even the tight grip to her fingers told her he’d lost patience. He’d forgotten about her entirely and the thought made her infinitely sad. Furious, too, but sad as well. For a while there, she had thought they could be friends.

“You have forgotten yourself, Robert,” she said slowly. Gently. As one would talk to a rabid dog because, in her mind, that was exactly what he had become. “I am sorry for what has happened, but you need to release me.” She straightened up, all too conscious that she was virtually naked. “Let go of my ankle or I shall scream.”

He reared back. “The devil you say!”

“And if you hit me, I shall have bruises that your sister will see. I might even now have them on my ankle.”

That hit him far more than anything else. His hand jerked back as if she burned him, and then he gazed hard at where his fingers had wrapped around her body. There were no marks, except perhaps a reddened imprint. She was sturdier than that. But it gave her enough freedom to scoot backward and grab her shift. The dress was behind him and out of her reach.

“Helaine,” he said, the word half plea, half apology, but she knew better than to believe him now.

She lifted her shift, damning her hands for how they shook. It took her a moment to sort through the fabric, and then she nearly cried. The shift was ripped and would never be worn again. It was old and meant for the rag bin anyway, but she had precious few of them and mourned the loss of even this.

How had she allowed herself to be so seduced? He had ripped her clothing and tossed aside her dress, and he hadn’t done anything more than pull off his cravat. That alone showed her how far outside of her depth she had gone. What had she been thinking to come to him like this? To lie with him even a little?

“God, I am such a fool,” she said. She balled up her shift into one hand, then gestured to her gown. She had learned from experience with her father that a firm, calm hand was needed when he was deeply in his cups. “Hand me my gown, please, Robert.”