Bound by Bliss (15 page)

“Why not? If you liked it, how can that be a problem?” Although he understood all too well. His body might long to take her to those places, but his mind was still unconvinced. She was going to be his wife. A man did not play in such ways with his wife. And yet…

Another pause. “Emotions do not have to be reasonable. If there is one thing that I learned in my father’s house it is that. We feel what we feel—sometimes we can control how we react, but we cannot control the feelings.”

He was not altogether sure that he agreed with that; much of his life had been about trying to control his emotions, about trying to control his desire for Bliss until they were both ready, about trying to hide the core of who he was and what he wanted from society. Still. “So, if we cannot control them are the feelings wrong?”

“No.” She sounded much surer about that.

“Well, then why should it be wrong to enjoy something? You cannot help what you enjoy.” And if that were true, was what he wanted to do with Bliss wrong? Perhaps he’d been thinking about this, about her the wrong way. It had never occurred to him that she might share some of his tastes, but if she did…would he not be a fool not to give in?

Bliss continued, “No, but you can control how you indulge. I enjoy both clotted cream and rich red wine, though not together. But, if I indulge too much in either I am always sorry. And honey. I love honey, but the one time I snuck down into Cook’s pantry and ate spoonful after spoonful I was sick for days. A little honey may be wonderful; a bucketful is not necessarily more wonderful.”

He took her point but would not give in. “Do you feel sick for having enjoyed what I did to you?”

Her hand rose to her breast. “I am a little sore.” She pressed down upon the nipple. “But I would confess I have worn corsets that caused more irritation. I cannot claim to be sick, but I am not convinced it is something I should like. And as for how I feel lower down, I am not even sure I understand that yet.”

“So it is more that you feel you should dislike it than that you do. Would you try it again?”

She pushed off from his chest, turning her head to stare into his eyes. “I should not. I do intend to go to my marriage a virgin, despite what gossip may sometimes say, and I sense that pursuing such paths might endanger that.”

And she would be right about that, but given that he intended to wed her, he didn’t particularly care whether the marriage bed came before or after the ceremony. “What if I promised that we would do nothing you didn’t wish?”

“I am too smart to fall for that one. I am very aware that you can make me wish for anything. Just because I wanted to see inside Madame Rouge’s, to gratify my curiosity, did not mean I wanted another orgasm. When we snuck out this evening I was imagining that I’d be seeing some stuffy club and maybe sampling whiskey and a cigar. I never imagined that you’d take me someplace like this.”

“It was your request, my lady. Your demand, even. If I’d understood the true nature of your desires I would have taken you someplace where you could watch old men drink themselves into their cups while they played too many hands of whist and discussed the wars of their youths. I was only trying to make you happy—to show you that I had a bit of adventure in my boring soul.”

“Fine, I will admit you are not boring, not a dull don. Now perhaps you should take me home. It must be late.” Bliss attempted to slide both from his arms and from the bed.

“And have you learned to trust me? That was the main purpose of this adventure, was it not, for me to show you that I could be trusted with your desires?”

Her hesitation was palpable. “I would admit that you have not let me down in this. You have done all that you promised.”

He caught both her wrists and held her. “Then are you ready to trust me? Are you ready to wed me? Would I be such a bad husband? I have already proved that you can wrap me about the smallest of your fingers and make me allow you to do things no sane man would.”

Her lips quirked to the side. “I am not sure that insanity is better than dullness in a marriage, although perhaps as I am a Danser it is the expected thing. Is it enough if I say that I would consider you for marriage? It is far too early for me to decide whether I prefer you to other men.”

“I think our kisses and such demonstrate that you prefer me to other men.” There were some things he was quite confident about.

“I am not yet ready to concede that point. I have only kissed a few men, and most of them were boys. And while I might be willing to concede that your kisses were the best, I think neither that I have enough experience or that kisses alone are a good foundation for marriage. I have seen many marriages where I doubt the kisses have lasted beyond the wedding trip.”

He could not argue with that, but he was damned if he’d let her go about kissing other men. “If you don’t think kisses—and I am assuming we are talking about a little more than kisses—matter that much, then why do you need a further sample?”

“I didn’t say kisses were unimportant, just that they were not the only thing on which to base a marriage. I would hate to marry a man who was slovenly, for instance, although marrying one who was too neat would also be awful. I am not neat, not at all, but I am not dirty. I merely shed. I can never seem to remember to put things back where they came from. My maid despairs of me. Could you handle a slovenly wife?”

“I would prefer not to, but by your own words you are not slovenly, merely a little careless perhaps. And yes, I do believe that I could live with that, though I might find the need to punish you for it occasionally. I do prefer my chamber to be neat and if you were to share it…” His voice deepened as he spoke of punishment. He felt the erection that had only gradually subsided swell to life again. He might have managed to control himself if not for the flush that marked her cheeks whenever he said the word “punishment,” for the darkening of her pupils, and that small gasp that escaped her lips.

“You’d punish me for not being tidy?” Her voice quavered as she spoke, but her breathing grew fast and the flush grew more pronounced. She was not frightened by the idea, no not at all.

“Would you deserve to be punished?”

A quick intake and then a slow exhale. “I don’t know.” She looked away and he could feel her mixture of excitement and anxiety. “I am not sure I like all your talk of punishment. I do know I want a marriage where I do not feel controlled. I want a husband who will be concerned with my needs, with what I want.”

His voice lowered. “Oh, pet, I can promise to be very concerned with your needs. Although I am afraid that there will be times when I will very much wish to control you, and when I will be quite sure that you will like it.”

Her eyes came back to his and a deep flush rose up her chest. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I know only what you tell me.” Reclining back on the large bed, he let her slide away. “Or show me.” His gaze fastened upon the breasts that he had yet to see in full light. He had played with them and pinched them, brought her to ecstasy with his touch, but so far they had been withheld from his vision.

“Rubbish,” she said, turning to put her feet on the floor, and then stepped away to look for the cloak and mask that had been tossed on a chair when he entered the chamber.

“Are you leaving?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He sighed. “You do realize that it is the small hours of the morning and we are not in the best area of London. It is far, far from the worst, but I would not advise your wandering the streets alone. It is definitely too dangerous for you to travel alone. And besides, we need to talk about this husband you seek.”

She strode to the door and placed her hand upon it.

He swung his legs off the bed. “At least put on the mask and cloak. You know there were several gentlemen about when we came up to the viewing hall, and I am sure that you knew several of them. Do you want me to name them? Several of them seemed quite interested in you. Do you truly wish to be discovered?”

Indecision raced across her face, but after a moment she removed her hand from the handle and then swung the cloak about her shoulders, enveloping her small figure. “Would you help me with the mask?” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“At your service, my lady.” He fitted the blue satin about her face and with care tied the ribbons in her sunlit curls.

She turned and rested her hand upon the handle again, but did not press it down.

He waited.

And waited.

“Oh, blast,” she exclaimed after a moment. “You are correct. I may be foolish on many occasions, but I am not stupid. Would you escort me home?”

“I would be most pleased, my lady. It will give us time to talk in the carriage.”

“I am not promising any conversation. And stop with the ‘my ladies.’ ”

“It is your proper title.”

“But that is not how you are using it. I am not yours.”

But she would be, of that he had no question. He merely lifted a brow.

—

Bliss sat on the lush cushioned bench of Duldon’s carriage as it sped her home and did her best to ignore him. He might have proved himself an entertaining companion this evening, and she might have allowed him unspeakable liberties, but none of that meant that she liked the man. Or at least she didn’t want to like him. She had reason not to. She must remember that. It might be something that she had spent years pushing from her mind, but after tonight perhaps it was time to remember, time to recall that night that had left her feeling so betrayed and abandoned.

It was hard not to think of it after all she had seen tonight, experienced tonight—after all the thoughts that had run through her mind as Duldon touched her, touched her as she’d longed for him to touch her all these years.

No, she was not ready to go there, not ready to consider that.

Heat rose in her cheeks one more time and she could only hope he did not see. She was still angry and did not wish him to know the direction of her thoughts.

Resting her head back, her mind disobeyed her command and slipped back to the feel of his hands upon her, to that sharp pinch of breast and that delicious thrusting of fingers between her legs. Even without his actual touch, her body grew hot and her breasts heavy. What would it feel like without clothing, if skin rubbed against skin? Would he like the dampness that grew between her thighs? He had implied that he would, but was it really something desirable? And what of him? What did he look like when shirt and breeches were removed? Was his cock thick like Black’s or longer and thinner like Green’s? Even though she had felt it pressed against her, she could not be sure. And what would he taste like? What did any man taste like? And did their orgasm, when their seed spurted forth, feel like hers had, or was it different, longer, more intense? Black’s had certainly looked intense as he pounded his hips forward, again and again, as the strain had swept his body and the cries had been torn from his lips.

Would Duldon orgasm like that? Would his whole body strain? What words would he cry? Her name?

No. No. No. Stop thinking. Stare straight ahead. Do not give in to foolishness. He was not for her. He had proved that to her once; she would not give him a second chance.

“I think it is time to talk about your future husband,” Duldon stated flatly without meeting her eyes.

Well, that certainly focused her thoughts. “I don’t see why we should. It is no concern of yours.”

“Everything you do is a concern of mine. Do not delude yourself. I do intend to marry you. I do wish you would tell me what it is you truly fear.”

“Humph.” It was not a dignified answer, but given the rest of the evening’s activities it seemed slightly late to seek dignity now.

“However…” He let the word linger. “If I cannot persuade you, I do want to be sure that you make a good choice, Bliss.” His voice softened.

He wanted her to make a good choice? Why should he care if it was not he? She would have expected that he would wish her an awful choice so that she would regret having spurned him. She knew that if their positions were reversed that is what she would have wished. She would never want him to be happy without her. She would want him to always know that he would have been much happier with her.

No. No. No. She truly needed to get control of her thoughts. She did not care who Duldon married, as long as it was not she. And, of course, she wished him a happy marriage. She would wish that for anyone. And Duldon was just anyone. She must remember that.

So why did even the thought of Duldon taking a wife cause her belly to grow sour? Why did it cool the warmth that had grown within her at his kind words?

“We are going to talk about this, pet. I don’t know what you are letting your mind focus on, but I suggest you bring it right back to our conversation. I will not have patience with you thinking about what flowers go best with your new bonnet when we have serious matters to discuss.”

“I was thinking about how to sneak back into my house, if you must know.” There was no way that she was going to tell him what she’d actually been thinking, and that it was all too relevant to their conversation. Getting back into the house was simple. There was a rusted back gate that never locked properly and she’d left the door to the billiard room very slightly ajar. And if disaster took and the porter had noticed the cracked door and locked it then she would merely pretend to have gone for a late walk in the gardens and locked herself out. She’d done that before and nobody had ever questioned. The servants probably wondered, but her father would be too busy thinking about llamas or turtledoves to pay mind to her. There were definitely some advantages to being a Danser.

“You are wandering again. Stop it and tell me what it is you want in a husband.”

“I am not sure why I should, but as I am stuck in this carriage with you for another few minutes I will indulge you.” Now if only she could think of an intelligent answer. “I want a man who cares for me, for what I want and how I feel. He should be reasonably good-looking and not smell. I would prefer that he was taller than me, but it would be difficult to find a man who was not. I would rather wish him to like children. There is something distrustful in a man who does not. And kittens and puppies. Having grown up in Risusgate I would feel strange if there were not pets about.”