ToLoveaLady (26 page)

He helped her out of her underclothes, then she followed him to the bed and stretched out beside him. He was being so gentle; she wanted to tell him not to be. She wanted to tell him to move faster, to touch her more. She wanted to stop waiting for whatever came next. She wanted. . . she wanted. . . she wanted. . . .
 

She didn’t know what she wanted. Except that she didn’t want him to stop touching her. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his hands exploring her body. He stroked her breasts, her back, her thighs, sending tremors of anticipation through her. Anticipation of what, she didn’t know. Only that if Charles was there, it would be all right. It would be good.

He smoothed his palm down her stomach, around her thighs, then back to cover her mound. She pushed against him, seeking relief from the tension building within her. “Shhh,” he murmured again, and kissed her temples. “I’ll give you what you want soon.”

She gasped as he began stroking her with one finger, a gentle, seductive rhythm that sent waves of sensation spiraling through her. She panted and moaned, ashamed to be losing control this way, but unable to stop herself.

He began to suckle her breasts once more, driving her to new heights of distraction. “Oh Charles!” she gasped, the ache in her building. “Help me.”

“Soon,” he whispered, and then his fingers dipped inside her, his thumb still stroking. . . stroking.

Ever fiber in her tensed, then a quaking spasm shook her, waves of joyous release rocketing through her. “Oh, Charles!” she cried again, but this time it was a cry of delight.

He slipped his hand from her and she opened her eyes to protest, but saw that he had positioned herself over her. “This might hurt, but only for a moment,” he said, then entered her, hesitating only a moment before plunging all the way in.

She gasped at the sudden, sharp pain, and her eyes clouded with tears. After so much pleasure, now this –

“Shhh. Shhh. It’s all right.” He cradled her to him, lavishing her with kisses and rocking her back and forth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know any other way to get past that bit, but it’s only for the first time, I promise.”

After a moment, the ache began to subside. “Better now?” he asked.

She nodded. In fact, she was beginning to feel very good indeed.

He began to move, slowly at first, then with more assurance. Rocking back and forth, in and almost out. But never quite. Always maintaining the connection between them. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the rhythm, and the anticipation that once more began to build within her.

Deuces, but she was sweet!
 
Charles closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the force of sensation that battered at him. He didn’t want to go off too soon, but he’d been fighting this desire for her so long, imagining what it would be like. The reality was almost too much to bear.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to move in rhythm with him. Hands on her hips, he guided her. She was an apt pupil all right. Thank God all those years of schooling in ladylike behavior hadn’t taken this away from her.

That was his last coherent thought as rising passion overwhelmed his senses. Heart pounding, lungs straining for breath, he gave himself up to the feelings that coursed through him. When he reached his climax at last, he cried out, with triumph, fulfillment, elation.

They lay together afterwards, silent, too spent to speak. His hand stroked her side, over and over in a soothing rhythm while she slept. He looked down on her still-flushed face and tousled hair, and felt fear mixed with his joy. A moment ago, when he’d watched her convulse with pleasure beneath his hand, he’d wondered what he’d done to deserve such a gift. Now he wondered what price he’d have to pay to keep her.

Chapter Fifteen

Cecily awoke to the sound of distant shouts and running feet. She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room, moonlight streaming through an open window, a gauzy canopy overhead. Then she heard Charles, breathing beside her, and remembered where she was, and why. A smile spread across her lips as a giddy happiness raced through her. Who would have thought that a simple invitation to tea could lead to such bliss?

Seconds later, pounding jolted the door to the room. Charles groaned and opened his eyes. The pounding continued.
 
“What in blazes!” He raised up on his elbows and glared at the door.

“Get up!” Estelle called from the hallway. “Hurry!
 
The sheriff and some men are here and they mean to make trouble!”

They heard the key turn in the lock, followed by footsteps running away. Charles turned to Cecily. “We’d better do as she says.”

She nodded, and started to sit up, but he pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “I might have thought this night was a dream, if not for you here now,” he said softly.

She nodded, suddenly too shy to speak. Simple words seemed inadequate for the weighty feelings in her heart. “Where are your clothes?” he asked. “I’ll bring them to you.”

She sat up then, and gathered the blankets around her. Charles seemed unconcerned about his own nakedness, and stood in the middle of the room, moonlight limning his perfect form. She caught her breath, dazzled by the sight, and he had to ask her again before she could gather her thoughts. “My clothes?” She shook her head. “Estelle took them, I suppose. When she locked me in. All I have is that.” She nodded to the velvet dress, which lay in a heap, with her underclothes, on the floor.

“You’ll have to wear that, then.” He brought the garments to her, then began to dress himself. Cecily did the best she could, but tightening the corset was beyond her.

Seeing her distress, Charles came over to her. “Here, let me help.” He took the laces in hand and began to fasten them.

“You act as if you’ve done this before,” she teased.

“Hmmm. Once or twice. But never to one as special as you.”

A thrill raced through her at his words, and she hugged her arms across her body as if to keep the feeling to herself. It pleased her that he’d called her special — not beautiful or refined, or any of the words others had used before to describe her.
 

He helped her into the velvet gown, and fastened it at the back. Then she sat to don stockings and boots while he finished his own toilet.

“My hair must look a mess,” she said, combing her fingers through the unruly strands.

“You look fine.” He smiled and put his hands on her shoulders. “Besides, if I have my way about it, no one will see you before you’re safely back at the ranch in your own quarters.”

“How will you manage that, if Sheriff Grady and his men are downstairs?”

He looked around the room, and spotted the hat rack in the corner. He chose a straw bonnet with a black lace veil. “Here, put this on.”

She did the best she could without a mirror, the veil falling around her shoulders, obscuring her face, and much of her vision. “You’ll have to lead me by the hand,” she said, laughing.

He had no time to answer, as the door burst open and Sheriff Grady rushed in, followed by a tearful Estelle. Charles stepped in front of Cecily to shield her. “Worthington!” The sheriff drew up short in front of them. “I might have known you’d be in on this.”

“In on what, Sheriff?”

Grady tried, unsuccessfully, to see behind Charles’s back. Charles blocked every move, while Cecily attempted to make herself as small as possible. Grady looked at the rumpled bed, then back to Charles. “As if you didn’t know. And you an engaged man, too.” He took a step back and gave Charles a considering look. “I just wonder what Lady Thorndale would think if she could see you now.”

Cecily pressed her face against Charles’ back and bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. She’d like to tell the sheriff that Lady Thorndale was quite impressed with Charles’s performance, both before and after they were so rudely interrupted.

“Are you threatening blackmail, Sheriff?” The rumble of Charles’s voice vibrated through her.

“I just think it’s strange, don’t you? How a man everybody has so much respect and admiration for turns out to be on the same par with the rest of the folks I lock up in my jail.”

“What I find strange is that people don’t have more respect and admiration for a man in your position,” Charles countered. “Why do you think that is?”

Grady’s face reddened. “What would you know about it, Worthington? In this country, we respect a man because of what he does, not because of who his father is or the title he puts in front of his name.”

Charles nodded. “My point exactly.”

Grady frowned. “Think you’re clever, do you?” He lunged forward and grabbed Cecily by the arm. “But not clever enough.”

Her heart beat furiously in her chest. Had Sheriff Grady recognized her? He would no doubt welcome the chance to humiliate her. She imagined the headlines the scandal sheets would carry:
Titled Heiress Found in Brothel With Earl’s Son
.

“Who are you?” Grady demanded, shaking her. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Unhand the lady at once.” Charles clapped Grady on the shoulder, his voice heavy with menace.
 

Grady released her, and shook off Charles’s hand. “She’s no lady.”
 

He reached forward and started to lift her veil, but she stepped back and threw up her hands to block him. “No!”

Estelle stepped forward. “Her face — it was burned. That’s why she wears the veil.” She put her arm around Cecily. “Her name’s Cici. She’s new here.”

As the sheriff looked her up and down, his expression changed to a leer. “I guess the customers don’t care about looking at her face, do they?”

Charles made a threatening sound and took a step toward the sheriff. Fists clenched, his face was a mask of rage. If he wasn’t careful, he could land them both in serious trouble. Cecily tried to signal him that he should calm down. If he would play along, they might get through this without the sheriff deducing her true identify.

But neither Charles nor the sheriff was ready to calm down. Grady grabbed hold of Cecily’s wrist and pulled her toward him. “You’re under arrest.”

“What is the charge?” Estelle kept her arm around Cecily, refusing to yield to the lawman.

“Keeping a disorderly house. We got an ordinance in this town.”

“We are not in your town,” Estelle glared at him.

“Let go of her at once!” Madame charged toward them, the ties of her dressing gown flapping behind her. Two men chased after her, though they might have been gnats buzzing around an elephant, for all the attention she paid them. In nightrail and rag curlers, Madame LeFleur looked more like an ordinary
hausfrau
than a notorious madam. “You cannot arrest her. She has committed no crime in this county or anywhere,” she protested.

“Stay out of this!” Grady snapped. “I’ll interpret the laws around here.”

Charles cleared his throat. Though he still looked grim, he had made an effort to rein in his emotions. “Excuse me, sheriff, but in order for someone to be actually keeping a disorderly house, does not money have to change hands?”

Grady sneered. “That’s what this place is all about, isn’t it — money in exchange for sexual favors.”

Charles shook his head. “I assure you, sheriff, no money changed hands here tonight.”

Grady looked disdainful. “You’d like me to believe it.”

“It’s true.” Cecily pulled free of the sheriff’s grip and slipped her arm around Charles. “He did not have to pay me.” She was glad of the veil, to hide her blush. Charles squeezed her hand, bolstering her courage.

“You can’t prove that,” Grady said.

“And you cannot prove otherwise,” Charles countered. “Did it ever occur to you why, if this is such a den of iniquity, I am the only man here?”

Confusion flashed through Grady’s eyes, quickly masked by anger. “The business is new. Maybe word hasn’t gotten around yet.”

“You are welcome to return tomorrow evening.” Madame cinched the ties of her dressing gown and held her head high. “We will have plenty of business, I assure you. Men will flock to hear Estelle sing and Fifi give her recitations. They will come to listen to our Victrola and enjoy refreshments and feminine company.”

“And you want me to believe that’s all they’ll enjoy?”

She shrugged. “You may believe whatever you like, sheriff.”

Grady turned back to Cecily. “What about you — what special talent do you have?” he sneered.

The disdainful way he spoke made Cecily feel small inside. What special talent did she have? Arranging flowers and pouring tea hardly seemed worth mentioning. What could she do that was worth anything to anybody?

“She is a good listener.” Madame came to her rescue. “Perhaps because in the past she has been unfairly judged herself, she accepts everyone, regardless of their flaws, and is willing to listen to their story. Many of the men who come here are lonely, and the greatest thing we can do for them is to listen.”

Was listening such a great talent? Could it be Madame and her girls valued Cecily’s friendship as much as she valued theirs? Estelle squeezed her hand, as if to assure her this was so.

“Hmmmph!” Grady looked disgruntled. “If you think I’m gonna believe cowboys will ride out all this way just to talk, you must think I just rode in on a hay wagon.”