Promise of Pleasure (15 page)

“It’s all right, Lord Redvers,” Mary said. “I don’t mind helping her.”

“
I
mind,” he insisted. “It’s not appropriate. Felicity, your maid will assist you from now on. Come.”

He led her inside, and he didn’t glance back, and Mary was relieved that he didn’t.

She slumped against the wall, and she remained there, listening as their strides faded. Then she went in and climbed the rear stairs to her bedchamber.

For an eternity, she gazed out the window as the sun set, the sky changing from indigo to black. It was so quiet, her wing of the manor so isolated, that she felt as if she was the last person on earth.

As darkness descended, she lit a candle and got ready for bed.

She undressed, washed, and drew on her robe and her floppy woolen socks, then she stared out the window again. The stars twinkled, inviting her to make a wish, but what would it be? That Redvers would fall in love with her? That they could live happily ever after?

Such a wish would be ludicrous.

Through the woods, she could see a light flickering from Harold’s house. She hadn’t spoken to him since the day she’d drunk the Spinster’s Cure. From that moment on, she’d scarcely thought of him at all, having devoted hour after foolish hour in dreamy speculation about Jordan Winthrop. Her imprudent infatuation had only pitched her further into his sphere of influence, had left her more miserable and restless than ever.

She had to stop fantasizing about him, had to stop yearning for a future that would never occur.

First thing in the morning, she’d call on Harold. She’d remind him of the dance in the village on Saturday night, would ask him to walk her home from church on Sunday as he usually did.

She had to get her life back on track to where it had been before Redvers’s arrival, to where it would be after he married Felicity and returned to London.

Off in the distance, she heard someone coming toward her room. She supposed she could have locked her door, but what was the use?

Jordan Winthrop was like a disease in her blood. She couldn’t be shed of him. She didn’t
want
to be shed of him. She wanted to be wicked and witty and loose like Mrs. Bainbridge, and in an instant, all her good intentions regarding Harold vanished.

She was so pathetic!

He spun the knob and slipped inside, but she didn’t look over at him. She wished he’d go away, but in the same breath, wished he wouldn’t. Where he was concerned, she had no fortitude; she couldn’t be strong or do what was proper.

“Has it always been like this for you?” he inquired.

“Yes.”

“Why is she allowed to treat you that way?”

“I don’t know.” She peered at him over her shoulder. “Don’t marry her.”

“I have to.”

“You’ll regret it forever.”

“I’m sure you’re correct.”

She whirled to face him and boldly announced, “It will hurt me if you go through with it.”

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged, but added no more.

“I can’t bear to imagine you with her,” Mary pressed.

“Oh, Mary, don’t be upset. I’m not worth it.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his back leaned against the door, his beautiful eyes so terribly blue. He hadn’t shaved in many hours, and his cheeks were shadowed with his evening beard. He appeared rumpled and magnificent, and she was so dangerously attracted to him.

She would do whatever he asked, would shame or debase herself in any fashion he requested, and the insight stunned and frightened her.

Why was she weak in her need for him?

“Why did you bring Mrs. Bainbridge to Barnes Manor with you?”

“I knew I’d be bored; she entertains me. I saw the two of you conversing. Was she rude to you?”

“Of course she was rude to me! She doesn’t have a civil bone in her body.”

“I’ll speak to her.”

“Don’t you dare. It would only make matters worse. She’ll think you have a heightened interest in me.”

“She’ll be right.”

“Doesn’t it bother you to have her here while you’re courting Felicity?”

“Why would it? One woman has nothing to do with the other.”

“Your conscience is clear?”

“About Mrs. Bainbridge? Yes.”

“Will she still be your companion after you’re wed?”

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Are you in love with her?”

“Gad, no.”

“But she’s your mistress.”

He hesitated, then admitted, “Yes.”

“Do you do the things with her that you do with me?”

He flinched as if she’d struck him. “Sometimes.”

“Will you do the same with Felicity?”

“She’ll be my wife, Mary,” he gently replied.

“You can dally with anyone, can’t you? Without a qualm?”

“I’ve never claimed to be a saint.”

They were silent, neither of them moving or talking, the only noise the tick of the clock down the hall.

Finally, she asked what she was dying to learn. “Do I mean anything to you?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“It’s pointless to hash it out,” he said. “Let it go.”

“But I want to know what we’re doing, where it’s leading.”

“It’s not leading anywhere, Mary. I’m sorry; I thought you understood that.”

The comment was soothingly offered, but brutal all the same.

Sighing, she stared out the window again, making the wish she hadn’t made earlier. She wished she could snap her fingers and become rich and pretty and beloved. She wished she could wake up in some other, better place where people cared about her, where she belonged.

“Don’t be sad,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” she fibbed.

She turned and gazed at him. “I had assumed I was sophisticated enough to involve myself with you, but I’m not. Why don’t you go?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I’m not like the other women in your life.”

“I know you’re not. That’s why I relish your company.”

“You should leave and not come back.”

“I can’t.”

“It wounds me to see you with Felicity. Do you mind that it does?”

“Yes, but I can’t stop. I have to marry her—or someone just like her.”

“Then let it be someone just like her.”

“Wealthy heiresses don’t grow on trees, and I need to wed as fast as I can. My financial straits are very dire; I don’t have time to pick another girl.”

“Could you travel to Barnes Manor for Christmas dinner—as her husband—after how it’s been between you and me? Could you spend a summer holiday and chat with me as if we’re old friends?”

“Yes.”

She scoffed. “You pretend it would be so easy, but I can’t stand to consider it.”

It was too painful to look at him, and she wrenched away and studied the floor, praying he would save her from herself and go, but he walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Mary, I’ll be here for such a short while.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. “You can’t send me away. These hours with you are the only ones that bring me any joy.”

“That can’t be true,” she said, yet she was so pitifully desperate to believe him!

“You make me happy, Mary. When I’m with Felicity, all I’m focused on is how quickly evening will arrive so that I can be with you.”

She was certain the statement was false. She was certain that—when they were apart—he never thought of her at all, but it was a sign of her deteriorated condition that she would latch on to it like a drowning woman clutching at a rope.

“This hurts me so much.”

“How can I make it better?”

“You can’t.”

He kissed her again, tentatively, just a soft brush of his lips to hers, then he clasped her hand.

“Come,” he said, escorting her to the bed.

She went willingly and dropped onto the mattress. They stretched out on their sides, Jordan holding her close.

“It will be all right,” he claimed. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I’m giving you all that I can. You have to let it be enough.”

“I want more from you than this.”

“But
this
is all there can ever be. Shouldn’t we grab for it? Can you lie here and tell me that we shouldn’t seize the moment?”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I’m telling you.”

“We share a unique attraction. You’ll never convince me to ignore it.”

“We’re adults; we can control our base impulses.”

“If we always behaved ourselves, what fun would life be?” She chuckled wearily. “You would say that.”

“Don’t fret.” He eased her onto her back. “Let’s build memories, instead, so we never forget what it was like.”

Though it was mad and reckless, she was incapable of refusing him anything. And wasn’t his attitude for the best? Wasn’t it wiser to seize the moment, as he’d suggested? What was gained by restraint?

If he couldn’t or wouldn’t change his course, it was silly to demand more than he could give. Why deny herself his company in the present simply because she wouldn’t have it in the future?

She pulled him near, acquiescing, and he smiled, which doomed her to folly.

When he gazed at her as he was, seeming to want only her and no other, it was impossible to resist him. His allure was too potent, her affection too great.

They kissed and kissed, the embrace increasing in intensity, with both of them touching and caressing everywhere. She tugged off his shirt, while he loosened the sash on her robe and opened the front.

He abandoned her mouth and nibbled a path to her breast, and he suckled her, driving her up and up the spiral of pleasure.

At his instigation, she’d become a complete voluptuary. She was consumed by her need to seek sensual arousal. Nothing else mattered. Not his other women. Not her betrayal of Felicity. Not her moral upbringing.

He left her breast and continued his trek down her abdomen to her private parts, and now that she was aware of what he planned, there was none of the embarrassment he’d engendered the first time. Eagerly, she welcomed his naughty advance, spreading her legs, providing him more access. Very swiftly, he pushed her to the cliff of desire and tossed her over.

She soared with ecstasy, and as she drifted down, he was holding her again, kissing her, laughing.

“I am so delighted with you,” he said. “You have such a debauched nature. Did you realize it?”

“No.”

“You’re a veritable slattern, but I mean that in the most complimentary way.”

“Thank you—I think.”

“I’m glad you’ve let me corrupt you.” He slid to the side and began unbuttoning his trousers. “I want to add to your dissipation.”

“How?”

“I can experience carnal pleasure, too.”

“Really? I was wondering if you could.”

“It’s all I contemplate; it’s my only hobby.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I can show you what happens. Would you like that?”

“Very much.”

“It will enhance our encounters, and it will keep me from getting grouchy.”

“Grouchy?”

“Yes. When you’re satisfied, but I’m not, it leaves me uncomfortable.”

“You poor thing.”

“I’ve been suffering, and it’s all your fault.”

“I didn’t know. We must put a stop to it at once.”

“Yes, we must.” He placed her hand on the placard of his pants. “I’m going to teach you how to touch me in a special way. Initially, it may seem a bit strange.”

“I don’t care. Just tell me what to do.”

At the prospect of learning how to titillate him, she was thrilled, and she supposed it was further evidence of her slatternly character, but she didn’t mind.

“I’m built differently than you,” he explained.

“You are?”

“In my manly parts.”

He guided her fingers around a sort of rod that was hidden inside his trousers. It was very large and very warm, the skin pliant and smooth. He instructed her in how to stroke across it, demonstrating the appropriate rhythm.

“What is this thing?” she asked. “What’s it called?”

“It’s a phallus. Or a cock.”

“I want to see it.”

“No.”

“Jordan!”

“No,” he said more adamantly.

“Why not? You’ve seen plenty of me, and I didn’t object.”

“If I remove more of my clothes, I may not be able to control myself.”

“I don’t want you to control yourself.”

“Which is why I’m keeping my trousers on.”

“What could it hurt?”

He leaned nearer and whispered, “If we’re not cautious, we could make a babe.”

“Oh.”

She was such a ninny that the possibility hadn’t occurred to her. Of course, the end result could be a babe. How could she have forgotten? The man rattled her wits!

“How does it happen?” she queried.

“You don’t need to know. You just need to let me set some limits, for despite what you may have heard about me, I refuse to leave you ruined and pregnant.”

“You’re a cad.”

“Yes, I am.”

“But I find that I’m rather fond of you anyway.”

“You have marvelous taste.”

She started stroking him again, and he quickly reached a pinnacle where restraint was shattered. He slapped her hand away and rolled on top of her.

“I have to finish it,” he said.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t do anything.”

He clasped her hips and flexed his loins, his phallus pressed to her belly. Momentarily, he uttered a soft groan, his entire body rigid, and he held himself very still as a hot liquid spewed across her abdomen.

It was the most exciting experience of her life, and she was tickled to discover that she could goad him to such a desperate conclusion.

Gradually, he relaxed, the endeavor drawing to a close, and he rested for several quiet minutes, his face buried at her nape. Then he slid away and went to the dresser, to fetch a wet cloth.