A Love Laid Bare (33 page)

“What…are you doing here? What are you
doing
?”

“I thought it rather obvious,” she said, amusement
threading her voice. “I am loving you, sir.” She smiled and slowly
placed a line of kisses in a wandering path that led toward his
groin. She combed through the mat of hair surrounding his member
and felt an instant response. Her hand trailed further along his
hardening length. “Do you want me to stop?”

He abruptly sat up. “No, but…”

Frances chuckled, pushed him back, and shook her
head. “Lie still… I plan to make love to you. And I will be most
unhappy if you deny me.”

He was quiet for a moment. Frances’ heart faltered.
If he said no—
now
, when she was here in his bed… But the
troubling thought had hardly formed when she felt him start to
relax. She sensed his almost reluctant acquiescence and the firm
grip on her shoulders finally eased.

With a tentative hand, he touched a knuckle to the
curve of her jaw. “If you wish, perhaps I…”

“What I
wish
is for you to be naked,” Frances
said in a husky voice. “Do take your shirt off, Richard.” She slid
both hands over his chest, pushing the fabric up as far as it would
go, and then rose onto her knees to undo the buttons.

She helped him remove it and then sat back on her
heels. “Much better,” she purred, enjoying the sight of his comely
body as he settled himself among the rumpled bed sheets. He was so
lean and strong. Desire flamed within her, the heat running over
her skin like an invisible torrential stream. Dear sweet heaven,
she ached for him. She ran her hands along his arms, stroked his
broad shoulders, and leaned over to flick at the hard nubbins on
his chest with her tongue. His muscles rippled and Frances felt an
ache building between her thighs. She looked up to give him a
sultry smile.

“You like that, don’t you? I like it, too.” She
shifted, caught his roaming hands, and pinned them loosely to the
pillow. “I want to touch you…every part of you,” she whispered into
his ear.

“Frances.”

His voice held a note of both uncertainty and
warning, which only served to strengthen her determination.
Although she had thought to be further along by now—he was so
tempting!— she had no intention of giving up. But it might be
unwise to test his control overmuch.

Frances rained kisses on his chest, her mouth
gradually moving downward, and wrapped her hand around his stiff
member. His skin was warm and silky over the hard length. She
wanted to play with it—play with
him
—but he was growing
restless beneath her. Sighing, she bent to take him into her
mouth—and reveled in the sharp gasp that escaped him. Moisture
dampened her cleft, her own need a hot, rising flame that
threatened to engulf her.

Richard’s fingers fumbled awkwardly through her hair.
“Frances, please, no more.”

Frances eased back and lifted her head. “You are so
impatient,” she chided in a teasing tone of voice. “But if you
insist…” With an agility that surprised her, she deftly positioned
her body on top of his. She was so wet…so hot…so ready. She guided
him to her cleft and slowly lowered herself until he was fully
inside her. She moved over him, in and out…again and again…her
breasts heavy in his hands. With a groan, he grasped her hips and
quickened the rhythm until her every sense was consumed with fire.
His final thrust and the hoarse repetition of her name spilled such
joy into her she thought she would burst with it.

Sated, she fell atop him, the furious beat of his
heart a reward for all her daring. He was clearly no less affected
than she was. She smiled smugly. It was…wonderful. They
were
good together. Boneless with lingering pleasure, Frances did not
resist when he lifted her and laid her beside him. He kept one arm
securely around her shoulders while he used the other to pull the
quilt over them.

A long silence followed. Richard idly twined a length
of her hair through his fingers and Frances stroked his chest, the
movement of her hand slowing as she grew drowsy.

Halcombe cleared his throat with a faint cough. “I
mean no offense, but where in
hell
did you learn that?”

“From a book,” she said, half asleep.

Prodded awake by the odd shaking of his body, Frances
pushed herself up on one elbow to look at him. “It was a very
informative
book—with pictures, if you must know.”

“A book.” The bemused tone in his voice gave way to a
chuckle that was followed by hearty gusts of laughter such as she
had never heard from him.

“Frances, my sweet darling Frances,” he said when his
laughter had finally subsided. “You never cease to amaze me.”

He eased her onto her back, bracketed her head with
his hands and leaned forward. “You are an excellent scholar, my
dear,” he said with a grin. “Perhaps you would be interested in
learning more about the subject?”

His kiss was tender, lingering, and Frances returned
it with mounting ardency. “I am accounted a quick study, my lord,”
she said with a teasing smile when he pulled himself back to look
at her.

“Are you indeed?” He nibbled at her neck, his hands
roaming over the softness of her breasts. “It seems a good time for
a second lesson, in that case.”

Their eyes met as he dipped several fingers into her
cleft and a hum purred deep within her throat. His mouth covered
hers, firm and compelling. Liquid heat began to gather, spinning
through her entire body. Frances lifted her hips in response to his
skillful probing.

“Yes, please,” she moaned, pulling him closer and
melting into yet another perfect storm of sensual delight.

Sometime later—
quite
some time later, when
their panting had quieted, and pounding hearts had slowed, he
turned on his side to face her.

“Was it simple curiosity that led you to…” he
hesitated, seeming to search for the right words. “
Explore
the art of…”

“Lovemaking?” Frances finished for him. She brushed
his disheveled hair from his forehead. “Will you hear me, Richard,
if I tell you the honest truth?” She moved back a little and gazed
directly into his eyes. “It does not especially reflect well on me,
but it’s time—more than time—for you to know why I was reluctant to
return to England.”

He searched her face. “Are you sure you want to do
this now…here?”

“Yes.” Frances sat up, wrapped his discarded
nightshirt around her shoulders, and positioned some pillows behind
her.

“You will get cold.” He reached over to pull the
sheets up.

Frances shook her head. “I am comfortable.” She
waited until he had stretched out beside her, his hands clasped
behind his head.

“The day before I received word of Father’s illness,
I happened to be in the library loft. It was the day when Lady
Merton came to see you.” She felt him tense, sensed his shock, and
hurried on. “It was impossible not to overhear your conversation,
and it seemed very clear to me that she was your mistress. This
beautiful woman—so lovely, sophisticated, and seemingly skilled in
pleasing a man—was the person you would have married if the Manor
had not been in such dire need.”

Richard stirred and seemed about to speak, but
Frances touched a finger to his lips. “Let me finish.” She paused,
swallowing several times in an attempt to dispel the ache in her
chest. “It was the worst moment in my entire life.” She let out a
short, mirthless laugh. “The whole concept of you with someone
else…
wanting
someone else, was almost beyond belief. I have
no idea what I would have done if circumstances had not taken me
away almost immediately.”

Frances absentmindedly stroked the silken binding on
the sheet and stared, unseeing, at the embers glowing in the grate.
“Once in Portugal, it became my excuse. I told myself you were now
free to be with your lover.
I
did not have to face
you…her—or your mother. Nor would I have to live in an unhappy
marriage with a man who did not really want me.”

“Damn it, Frances!”

Richard sat up, twisting to face her, and again
Frances laid a finger on his lips. “Wait, please,” she said. She
drew in a steadying gulp of air. If she stopped now, she might
never have the courage to continue.

“I felt enmeshed in a safe little wonderland, but as
time passed, I began to realize it was not
my
home, nor
Flora’s. She deserved her heritage…she deserved her
father.
”
Frances swallowed and smiled wanly. “I’d already made up my mind to
return when I came across a book with the most shocking pictures! I
had no idea what men truly liked and thought if I learned, then
perhaps I could make you happy and you would not want a
mistress.”

He had the strangest look in his eyes.
Incredulousness? Anger? Whatever it might be, it certainly was not
something that could be mistaken for amusement. There was nothing
funny about this, Frances thought glumly as she dragged the sleeve
of the nightshirt across her eyes. She would
not
cry. That
would be the final humiliation. First throw herself at him, and
then make him think she expected his sympathy?

Frances slid down and covered her eyes with her
forearm. “I am so sorry, for everything,” she said in a choked
voice. Her stomach twisted and pain pinched her chest into a hard
knot. She could literally
feel
his intent gaze upon her. If
only the man would say something
!
If only she were in her
own bed and could burrow under the covers—if only…if only. Useless
words indeed.

“Frances, look at me.” Richard pried her arm from her
face, lay down next to her and kissed away her tears. “Victoria was
never my mistress—not in the sense you mean. She came to me that
day hoping to persuade me otherwise. I said things to her I should
not have, because I felt sorry for her and knew that to reject her
personally would hurt her. Expedience is something that she
does
understand.”

“You were not lovers?” Frances whispered in horror,
sick to think she had so misread what she had heard.

“We were,” he admitted regretfully, “at one time. She
is very beautiful, and I’m afraid I was no less susceptible than
any other young man. I’d known her for years, of course, with our
families living so near. And one day the gawky girl I’d once played
childhood games with had suddenly blossomed into a confident,
alluring woman. I even thought we would marry at some point, but
when I told her I was going away to Europe for at least a year, she
turned to George and they married within a few months of my
departure.”

He put his arm under Frances’ shoulders in order to
bring her closer and she laid her aching head in the curve of his
arm.

“Richard...” she began, but he gently shushed
her.

“Let me tell you the rest.” Richard paused and idly
stroked the hair that had tumbled over her back. “When I
returned—and this is not something to my credit—Victoria and I had
several encounters. I could plead that my father’s death, and the
pressure of trying to find a way to rescue the property, had forced
me to seek out solace. The truth is I was weak and stupid. I have
never felt adultery is acceptable and there I was, betraying my own
beliefs—and a man who had been a family friend for years.” His
voice roughened. “But I swear to you, it was ended before we
married. Victoria had grown into a person I did not like very much.
I did not much like myself!”

Frances felt her world shattering into a multitude of
jagged pieces. All the righteous justification for her actions was
swept away in an instant. Oblivious to her nakedness, she bolted
upright and almost leapt from the bed, momentarily forgetting its
height and landing with a thump on the floor. Groping for her
peignoir, she shoved her arms into the sleeves whilst still on her
knees and then struggled to get to her feet.

“What the devil are you doing?” Richard, too, sat up,
his eyes glittering in the dim light. He snagged her sash as she
tried to tie it. “Come here,” he said, tugging her off balance so
that she fell onto the bed.

“I should not be here!” Frances rolled to the edge,
but before she could escape, he landed on top of her. “Richard,
stop. Let me go!” She fought for release, but facedown as she was,
with her arms pinned behind her in his firm grip, she had little
leeway.

“No, I will not,” he said in a patently calm
voice.

The too-quiet tone penetrated her panic. He was
seriously annoyed, and she knew it was foolish to rile him further
when she had no chance of besting him anyway. Her breathing still
ragged, Frances subsided, all the fight draining from her, leaving
her weak and shaken.

“You can let me go now.” A long pause, then Richard’s
weight lifted and he flipped her onto her back.

“Hell and damnation, woman. You are enough to try any
man’s patience.”

His wary, puzzled expression made her feel even
guiltier, and her eyes filled with tears. Furiously she blinked
them away. What was wrong with her that she seemed ready to cry at
every little thing these days?

She was trembling, almost unable to speak through the
lump in her throat. “I am so sorry…for misjudging you…for staying
away…for believing what I did. It’s unforgivable. I know it and you
are right to be angry and hurt.” She choked back a sob and
scrunched her eyes closed, unable to face him.

“You,” he said after a long silence, “are an
idiot.”

Frances’ eyes flew open in surprise.

“Yes, you heard me correctly,” he said in answer to
her expression of disbelief. “Come here.” He propped her up just
long enough to strip off her peignoir. “Now get yourself under the
covers before we both take a chill.” He rose and turned back the
quilt.

“You want…?” Frances stared at him in wonder.

“I want you in this bed.” He calmly picked her up,
dropped her in place, and was stretched out beside her before she
was able to say another word.