Bound by Bliss (7 page)

Perhaps she once had, but she had long conditioned herself to think otherwise. She would keep Duldon in the box she had so carefully put him in. Dull. Restrained. She would not think of the other possibilities, would not remember how well she knew the man was anything but restrained. She forced herself to speak calmly. “Then don’t treat me like one. If I am a woman, give me a woman’s choices. Even the peasants decide whom they will wed.” She knew that was not true, just as she knew how little choice women of her class often had.

“You know better.”

She pulled in a deep breath and could not mistake how his eyes dropped to her bodice for just a moment as her breast pressed tight against the lace edging. Lord Banks had stared at the woman, at Julianna, in a similar manner. Did Duldon have such thoughts about her? No. The very thought was preposterous, and yet that strange ache began to grow deep in her belly at the crux of her legs. “I know that I don’t want to be wed to a man who…who…who…” Blast, why could she not think of a single thing to say? “Who doesn’t even want to kiss me.”

Chapter Four

As she watched, Duldon blinked—and blinked again. His lips began to quiver, a strange sound leaking from them. “Not want to kiss you?” His lips parted and the sound began to sound remarkably like laughter, deep belly laughter. And then he grew still, his fingers tightening about her jaw. “Why would you think I don’t want to kiss you?”

“You’ve certainly never looked at me with lascivious intent. You look at my brothers with as much interest as you look at me.”

“Lascivious intent.” The sound of laughter again leached into his voice. “You are a strange girl, Bliss. You are lucky that I like the unusual. And I certainly don’t wish to kiss your brothers, or any boys for that matter.”

“I don’t feel lucky.” That sounded far too much like a pout. Why could she never hold firm about him? “And, of course, you don’t want to kiss boys. What man would? You just don’t want to kiss me either.”

“Are you sure? I believe I’ve rather frequently thought of kissing you—among other things.” He leaned forward, filling the space between them he had moments ago allowed to open.

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips.

Bliss swallowed, her own eyes dropping to Duldon’s lips, seemingly thin and hard, but could they also be soft? She forced her glance back to his eyes, staring into the dark depths. She knew where this was going, knew she did not want it to go there, and yet she could not hold back her words. “And why should I believe you? A man can say anything.”

“You do like to play with fire, don’t you, little one?” He leaned farther and she could feel his breath upon her mouth. She should turn her face, turn away, but all she could do was stare at him, watch him stare at her, at her mouth. Was she breathing? She couldn’t tell.

“I…” She couldn’t think. She couldn’t talk. Had she moved forward, and were her lips pressing against his, soft and close-mouthed? It was only the slightest of touches, the briefest brush of skin on skin. His lips were soft. How could they be hard and soft at the same time? She started to pull back, confused by her own actions—and by the shimmer of feeling that began to sweep through her.

“I hope you don’t think that was a kiss? If you think that is a kiss, you’ve never done it right.” This time he moved forward, bending his head slightly to the side as he held her chin firm. His lips pressed hers in a motion not so different from her own of the moment before, and yet there was a world of difference. Her briefest of kisses had been tentative, light, questioning. His was none of those things. His lips started gentle, but second by second the pressure and heat increased. His fingers moved from her chin to the back of her head, cupping her against him.

She’d been kissed before. She had. Or had she? Nothing had prepared her for the fire that could grow on her lips and in her belly at the same time. Nothing had prepared her for the intensity, for the desire to flee and yet to continue forever.

Without thought she pressed her whole body forward, taking the half step to cover the brief space that separated them. His free hand wrapped about her waist in reward, the long fingers delicious as they stroked her through her gown.

A soft moan escaped her mouth, her lips full and swollen beneath his.

As the sound escaped, his tongue swept forward lightly, tickling along the seam of her lips, playing over the swollen spot she’d previously bitten.

That felt good. She would not have expected it to, but there was no denying the pleasure. Curious, she opened her mouth a little. His tongue continued to stroke across her lips, but each time moved a little deeper. She opened more. He swept in, invading but welcome.

He stroked her inner lip, the roof of her mouth, the tender line where gum met tooth.

It should have been disgusting. It really should have. Who would ever want somebody else’s tongue within their mouth? It was quite a horrifying thought—and yet…

For a moment she let herself consider the sensations, analyzing the feelings, but then bit by bit by bit, the sensations won. Her mind quit working, the fog of wonder growing, and the feel of Duldon overtaking all. She pressed herself tighter against him, her breasts swelling with need and want, aching to be free, yet aching also for more pressure, more…God, she didn’t know what, but she wanted it, needed it. It was impossible to imagine not having it, not having that more.

As if sensing her need, one of his hands crept up between them, his fingers cupping her breast and squeezing softly. Nothing she could remember had ever been so wonderful—and yet it left her so unsatisfied, so wanting. She tried to press tighter, but it was impossible. Moaning against his mouth, she let her own tongue come into play, exploring, seeking, wanting—always wanting. Was there no end to the want that he made rise within her?

Long fingers moved over her breast, playing at the lace edging of her bodice, before slipping in. His fingers found one turgid nipple and squeezed hard, the slightest twist, the further abrasion of tender flesh against the lace border.

God. She felt the tightness in her belly grow; she pressed her legs together, trying to hold it in and yet release it. It tightened and tightened, her whole being caught in lips and breast and—and lower. Something. Something.

He squeezed tighter. A bolt of electricity filled her.

Her eyes closed and she could not think beyond that tightness, that…

He twisted once more, focusing her entire being on that one small piece of flesh. It hurt. It was wonderful. And it grew. It grew and tightened. All the emotions and sensations that she’d felt earlier filled her again; she pressed her legs firm, trying to sooth the ache that grew and grew.

He pinched again. Sensation shot from her nipple to between her legs, an open channel of sensation twisting her tighter and tighter. She moaned again, her whole body filled with need and want.

One more pinch. One more bolt of sensation.

And then it happened. It exploded. Her whole body exploded.

Black. Light. Sensation. Wonder.

Fireworks on a summer evening.

And then peace, even as the final quivers moved through her. Stillness as she could not remember in many a year.

“Bliss?” Duldon’s voice called her as if from afar, and yet she felt his breath against her mouth.

She blinked, coming back into her body. He still held her tight and yet with utmost gentleness. His fingers slipped from her breast, and ran up the skin of her collarbone and neck, until once again he cupped her chin.

“Do you still believe I don’t want to kiss you?” His voice rumbled against her ear.

“I am beginning to believe you.” She’d probably believe anything in that moment. He could have told her that he’d made her a gown of stars or that he’d vanquished a dozen dragons in the last hour and she’d have believed him. She might not understand what had happened, but he’d certainly known what he was doing, what he was doing to her.

“Damn. I’ve never had that happen before,” Duldon stated, his voice a whisper that curled about her.

“What?” She tried to collect her thoughts from the clouds they still floated upon.

“You went up like a mortar and all I did was kiss you.”

“That was not all you did.” The kiss had been very nice, but it was the combination of everything that had lit her insides until…She still didn’t know what had actually happened. She’d never even heard of anything like what had just happened to her.

A slow smile spread across his face as he pulled back and stared at her. “You’re right it was more than a kiss, but I’ve never had a woman come just because I touched her breast. You must have been holding that in for a long time, my sweet.”

His eyes were so dark in the dim light that it was hard to see into them. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

His smile turned into a grin as Duldon leaned and rested his forehead against hers. “I am not sure whether you’re lying or you truly are that naïve. I know girls are brought up differently than boys, but given that I have no sisters and the uncle who raised me had no children, I can’t say I have much experience in the matter. So you’ll have to explain it to me. What don’t you know?”

She was not going to talk about this. She was not. And the more he talked the more she remembered why she didn’t want to marry him. She was against marriage in general, but the thought of marrying Duldon was even worse. He was a trap she could so easily fall into. She must try to think of him as dull and staid. She must not let herself consider the truth, remember the truth.

Only that kiss certainly had not been dull.

Blast. And blast again. She would not think about this. This was not what she needed, he was not what she needed, not now when she was trying to figure out how to gain her freedom. Her mind became a jumble, that brief moment of peace far gone. If only she could think of something else, pretend to be somewhere else.

“I don’t want to discuss this with you,” she said, slipping sideways and trying to escape.

He let her move, but slipped a hand about her wrist, leashing her. “Not so fast.”

“No.” She knew there was an edge of desperation to her cry, but she could not help it.

She felt him freeze at the word and its tone, his fingers tightening about her wrist. “What has you so upset?” he asked.

It was too much, every bit of emotion and confusion she’d felt this night pouring forth. “I am being forced to marry—and probably to you, a man I don’t care for. Lady Perse, who could help me, has clearly decided that she dislikes me, although she’s always been perfectly pleasant in the past. I just watched Lord Banks doing things I barely knew were possible to a woman I am not even sure I’ve seen before, things that I am sure are not supposed to happen in the library. And then you drag me out here, yell at me, kiss me without my permission, cause whatever that was to happen to me—and then you smile like you’re king. I have every right to be upset.” She tried to yank herself away again, but he held tight.

“I can see why that might be upsetting. And you had an orgasm. That’s the word for the feeling.”

“It was more than a feeling.”
Orgasm
. That was a word she’d never heard before. And she didn’t want to hear it again or feel it again. It was all much too complicated. She yanked harder. “Just let me go.”

“Not when you are like this. You must calm yourself before you enter the ballroom again.”

“Why? I am a Danser. Everyone expects this of a Danser. Why, I could probably walk into the ballroom, step up on a table, and announce everything that has happened to me this evening and the only thing that would surprise anyone is that I hadn’t done it all before. It’s probably why Lady Perse won’t help me.”

Duldon let out a long sigh. “You know that is not true. It may be said that you are a little wild, but I’ve never heard a bad word said about you.”

“Now you are the one who is saying that which is not true. You know they are all only waiting for me to take that one step too far. It must be why my brother is willing to give me to you. He worries that I’ll ruin myself before I have a chance to make an acceptable match.”

“That is not why your brother wishes you wed. And I had to persuade him that I was a suitable choice.”

She knew better than to believe that. “I do not believe you.”

Another sigh. “Your brother does wish you wed. That is true. He wants you to be as happy as he is. And I did have to persuade him that I was suitable. He knows me too well, my faults as well as my virtues. He was not at all sure that he wished me for his sister.”

Could that be true? Perhaps part of it, but she doubted he was telling her the whole story. “It doesn’t matter.” She turned away from him, even if her wrist was still caught. The stones from earlier in the evening began to once again pile in her belly. There was so much temptation here in this garden, here with this man, but she must turn it all away. She might be a Danser, but she knew better than to believe that giving in to temptation led to reward; grabbing for what you wanted was the surest way to end up with nothing, which didn’t stop her from reaching and wishing every single time. But not this time. This time she would be smart. She would look for a husband who would not challenge her, who would let her continue as she wished. And that husband would never be Duldon. “Please let me go. I am calm now.”

He lifted her wrist and she could feel him staring at the connection between them. “I will let you go, but first tell me what I must do to have you give me a chance, to prove that I can be the man you once asked to marry you, to show that I can be a good husband to you.”

Again she felt the strings of temptation reach for her, but she pushed them back. He was not talking like himself and she would not be fooled. Even in his tender years, when she’d felt so different, he had been a man of few words. His smile could recite poetry, but never would the words form sound. This man before her, who asked her questions, asked what was needed, this man she did not know. “Let go of me first.”

“And you will not run.”

A hesitation. Did he need to control every situation, every moment of time? “No, I will not run—or walk. Let me go and I will do my best to answer.”