Читать книгу The Regency Season: Forbidden Pleasures: The Rake to Rescue Her / The Rake to Reveal Her - Julia Justiss - Страница 16

Chapter Eight

After a session before the mirror to restore her calm—only in the bedchamber could she permit herself any emotion—Diana arrived at the townhouse in Green Park Buildings. So great was her nervous anticipation she’d had to exercise great self-control not to arrive very early, so she might have time to position herself before Alastair arrived.

She’d filled some of the waiting time reading to James. During a walk down Milsom Street this morning, they found a picture book of soldiers. She’d enjoyed reading to him, and he seemed to like it, too. The interlude had been...pleasant. Perhaps she would be able to revive the tenderness she’d once felt for him.

Precisely at the agreed hour, she knocked at the door of Alastair’s townhouse. The same expressionless manservant—having been spied on by her husband’s retainers for so long, she was inured to expressionless servants—showed her into the parlour where, this time, Alastair waited to greet her.

Swallowing hard over a renewed attack of nerves, she made herself walk calmly over to him. He rose, and when he angled her chin up for a kiss, she let him.

Feathering her eyes closed, she opened herself to sensation. The soft pressure of his lips brushing against hers was gentle, sweet, and sensual, setting all the nerves of her mouth tingling. When he broke the kiss, she was disappointed—and eager for more.

‘I brought you a little something,’ he said with a smile, motioning across the room.

So preoccupied was she by this bold new venture of responsiveness, she’d noticed nothing in the chamber but Alastair. Following the direction of his hand, she uttered a gasp. ‘Alastair! That’s hardly “little”—it’s a pianoforte!’

He grinned at her, and a sharp stab of...something struck the barrier she’d erected to restrain her emotions, already shaken by his kindness in remembering how much she loved music. As he stood smiling, the harsh, cynical edge to his expression gone, he looked like the boyish young man she’d once given her heart to.

Good she was about to sweep all thought away with passion, else he might tempt her too much.

‘Play for me.’

‘I haven’t played in years!’ she protested. ‘I’d likely sour milk and set all the cats on the street to squalling.’

He chuckled. ‘I’ll risk it. If it’s been that long, all the more reason to begin again immediately. It’s like riding a horse—you never truly forget.’

‘Who told you that?’ she asked, swallowing a laugh. ‘Certainly no one who played well! Daily practice is essential to remain truly proficient.’

‘And you were wonderfully proficient. There might be a few cobwebs to brush off, but I wager that won’t take long. So, play for me...please.’

She wanted to refuse, get right to bedroom matters; straying on to the topic of music could bring the dangerous possibility of more prying. But even from across the room, she could tell the pianoforte was a beautiful instrument—trust Alastair to choose only the best. She’d missed music almost as much as she’d missed Alastair, the love for it, like her love for him, suppressed but never extinguished.

‘Very well,’ she capitulated. ‘But you might want to leave the room. I expect I shall be dreadful.’

He merely smiled and gestured towards the instrument. Eagerness bubbled out before she could restrain it as she ran her fingers experimentally along the keys. As the bright tones issued forth, her much-denied, atrophied heart gave a feeble pang.

And so she played, slowly at first, then faster, with more assurance. During her clandestine midnight forays at Graveston, before the instrument had been taken away, she’d memorised many of her favourite works, not wishing to risk leaving sheet music about. She found her fingers returning to one piece after another.

Soon she lost herself in the music. Time ceased to matter, and when the final movement ended and she lifted her hands from the keyboard, she wasn’t sure how long she’d been playing.

She looked around to see Alastair in a wing chair by the fire, wine glass in hand, watching her.

Contrition seized her. ‘I’m sorry. I...I lost track of the time. So sorry to keep you waiting.’

‘Not at all. That was lovely. I’ve missed hearing you play.’

He looked as surprised as she was by that remark. Not sure what to respond, she rose and came over to him. Now to put her plan into effect before he could initiate any more conversational delays.

‘You should have a reward for your patience.’ She leaned down to kiss him, her tongue outlining the edge of his lips.

With a murmur, he set down his glass, pulled her into his lap, and deepened the kiss. This time, she let herself respond to the warmth and heat of him, opening to him, fencing back as they tangled tongues, the soft moist heat stoking the passion rising within her.

She brought his hand to her breast, and he caressed her through the material of her gown and stays. Luscious sensation sparkled and shot through her body, setting off a throbbing at her centre as she envisaged how much more acutely she would feel his touch, once his clothes and hers were removed. Revelling in his caress, she rubbed herself against him.

He broke the kiss, his eyes blazing and his breathing unsteady. ‘Upstairs, now,’ he urged, setting her on her feet.

Before he led her off, she turned to him and tilted her mouth up for another kiss. When he obliged, sweeping his tongue in to possess hers, she wrapped an arm around him and inserted her other hand between their two bodies, massaging the hardness pressed against her.

‘More of that later,’ she promised, before taking his hand to tug him towards the door.

Wrapping an arm around her, he caressed her bottom as they walked up the stairs. Once in the bedchamber, she whirled around, offering him access to pins and tapes, which he dispensed of quickly, unpeeling her bodice and helping her step out of her gown. She lifted her hands to let him strip the chemise over her head and stood before him, clad only in garters and stockings.

He ran his gaze slowly over her, from chin to toes. ‘Lovely,’ he murmured.

Kissing him, she unfastened his trouser buttons and urged the garment down, then pushed him to sit back on the bed. As soon as he’d balanced there, she climbed on his lap, straddling him, then wrapped her legs around his back and guided herself down to enclose his swollen member.

Ah, how good he felt, slick hot steel caressing her inner chamber for all his length. Sighing, she leaned back, offering up her naked breasts. Cupping her bottom to secure her, he bent to them, rolling the hard nipples between his teeth, nipping and suckling.

The sensation was exquisite, every sweep of his tongue and nip of his teeth intensifying the throbbing pressure building deep within her, where his member stretched and pulled and teased. Feeling the urgent need for more movement, she began rocking into him, savouring the friction as she pulled almost free, then sank down on him again.

Pressure built and built, lifting her again towards the precipice she’d sensed the night before, driving her to intensify her efforts. If she could just force him deeper, rub against him harder...

Suddenly, in a rush of sensation unlike anything she’d ever experienced, the pressure released in a flow of tingling, throbbing delight. She felt she was soaring, flying above all pain and misery and memory, for long, brilliant minutes before settling softly back to earth.

Boneless, she sagged against Alastair, who simply held her, kissing the dampness of her forehead and her ears. His silence was just as well, for her scattered thoughts were too incoherent for speech.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered at last.

Surprised, her eyes started open. ‘Shouldn’t I be thanking you? Especially since...’ She rocked her hips around the still-hard member still inside her.

‘All in good time. Thank you for letting go, giving me the gift of your pleasure.’

‘Isn’t it time for you to give me the gift of yours?’

‘Gladly.’ He smiled against her lips before kissing her.

She wanted to finish undressing him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Rising, still almost fully clad, he slid back to the pillows and lay back, holding her in place astride him.

‘What would please you most?’ she asked disjointedly, hardly able to formulate the sentence for the pressure of him moving inside her, creating little eddies of pleasure.

‘Watching you again, as you ride me. But first, this.’

He pulled her close, kissing her—throat, shoulders, silky skin of inner arms, down to her breasts. Though he’d pleasured them before, he began again, even more slowly, a meticulous caress of every surface, licking the pebbly nipples as he massaged the full softness.

By now, her core was throbbing again, too. Murmuring encouragement, he lay back, urging her to move on him. Balanced better on the bed, she could spread her knees wider and take him deeper still. The thrust of his hardness along the whole of her passage, from the depths to the tight nub at the peak, elicited a whole new range of sensations.

Faster and faster she moved, each stroke tightening the coil of pressure until at last, in a splendid blaze of pleasure, they flew over the crest together.

For a while afterwards, they both drifted in somnolent contentment. When at last she rose back to full consciousness, she found herself beside him, his arm wrapped around her, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

A wave of wonder and delight washed through her. How many times had she dreamed of waking like this?

And this time, she had no need to thrust away or bottle up the thought.

Instead, she nestled closer. ‘Must I go now?’

‘Go?’ he echoed. ‘Heavens, no, my sweet. We’ve just begun.’

Her eyes widened at that. ‘Just begun?’ she repeated cautiously.

Laughing, Alastair rolled out of the bed, swiftly stripped off his clothes, walked over to pour them a glass of wine and brought it back, while she admired his magnificent nakedness.

‘Here, drink up. We’ve hours yet.’

After taking a long sip, she let herself smile. ‘That’s excellent.’

He chuckled and took back the glass. ‘Let me show you how excellent,’ he murmured. Smoothing his hands down over her belly, he nudged her legs apart and moved his clever, wicked mouth to that needy place between her thighs.

* * *

Slowly Diana emerged from the heavy mantle of sleep, like a sea creature rising from the deep. Her body felt languid, replete with a humming satisfaction. When she finally forced her eyelids open, she saw a dearly beloved visage, smiling at her.

What marvellous dream was this? A sense of wonder escaping before she could cage it, she raised a hand to trace the face from forehead to lips. ‘Alastair?’ she whispered.

As if his name had evoked it, consciousness returned in a rush, accompanied by a paralysing stab of fear. ‘Alastair! You must—I must get away. At once! He mustn’t find us!’

As she frantically pulled at the bedclothes, desperate to flee, he stilled her hands. ‘Stop, Diana! It’s all right. Your husband is dead. He’ll never hurt you again.’

The room seemed to swirl around her dizzily. ‘He’s...gone?’ she repeated, trying to focus her muzzy senses.

‘Yes. He’s gone, and I’m here.’

She struggled to pull herself free from the iron grip of another world. After a moment of frantic concentration, reality began to fall into place. Graveston’s death. Coming to Bath. Meeting Alastair again. The bargain.

The luxuriant somnolence of her body clashed with the agitation of emotions still out of control. Responding to the imperative to reel them in, she pushed at the arm he’d wrapped around her.

‘Please, I need...I need to sit.’ Detaching herself, she slid away and off the bed, looking around wildly for the dressing table. Spying it in the corner, she hurried over, and heedless of her nakedness and his keen observing eyes, seated herself before the glass. The forehead of the face reflected back to her was creased with anxiety, the eyes feral.

With a trembling hand, she smoothed away the lines and began the ritual breathing. Long slow inhale, hold, hold, exhale. Applying every bit of mind and will, she forced back the anxiety and buried the panic, until finally the countenance staring back at her was expressionless and calm.

Only then did she turn to Alastair. He was still looking at her with concern—no wonder, after witnessing that performance! Better distract him quickly, before he could begin questioning.

‘I’m so sorry!’ She managed a smile. ‘I can’t recall when I last slept so deeply, I awoke with no idea where I was.’

Though his eyes still looked troubled, mercifully, he did not press her. ‘Passion satisfied can do that.’

She smiled in earnest. ‘What a wondrous gift! I had no idea such feelings existed. Thank you.’

‘I should point out, the gift was mutual. Thank you, too.’

Suddenly she noticed that, though the candles had guttered out, a dim light illuminated the chamber. Her relief at recalling that Graveston was gone and she was in Bath abruptly dissipated.

‘Goodness, what hour is it?’

‘Just past dawn.’

Shocked that she’d slept so long, Diana hopped off the bench and began gathering up her garments. ‘I must get back at once, before the servants begin to stir.’

‘I’ll summon you a chair.’

‘No, I’ll walk—it’s light enough now, someone might notice the chair.’

‘I appreciate your efforts at discretion, but it’s not yet full daylight and you shouldn’t be out on the streets alone,’ he countered. ‘I’ll escort you.’

‘What kind of discretion would that be? No, you mustn’t be seen by anyone in the house. The servants can’t be trusted not to gossip.’

With a sigh, he came over to help her. ‘I’m much better at removing these than putting them back on,’ he said as he fitted the gown over her chemise and began pinning. ‘Why so worried about gossip? I thought you’d brought with you only a few trusted retainers.’

She leaned back against him as he secured the garment. ‘All were hired here but Minnie, James’s nursemaid, and she’s loyal only to him. The servants at Graveston Court obeyed their master and no one else. Not that I blame them. Had any of them shown sympathy or allegiance to me, they would have been turned out at once without a character.’

‘So you truly had no one.’

Deciding, after a moment’s hesitation, to ignore the question, she sat to roll on her stockings and slip her feet into her slippers, then stood and twirled before him. ‘All put to rights, am I?’

‘Sadly, yes. I prefer you in the natural state.’

‘Wouldn’t give one much chance of slipping through the streets unnoticed, you must allow.’ Feeling somehow shyer now in her garments than she had while naked before him in the languid aftermath of loving, she glanced up as she tied on her cloak. ‘Will you...want me again tonight?’

The smouldering look he returned sent a little thrill through her. ‘You know I will.’

‘Then I shall be here.’ Stepping towards the door, she paused to look back over her shoulder. ‘Alastair, I—I really do thank you. Last night was...magnificent.’

A twinkle in his eyes, he walked over to capture her chin and give her a kiss, long and slow and full of promise. ‘Just wait until tonight.’

Warmth bubbled up, and this time, she didn’t try to stop it. ‘Tonight,’ she whispered, parting his lips to delve into his mouth and deliver her promise in return.

* * *

Maintaining her vigilance as she slipped through the empty streets, her only fellow travellers a few returning revellers and the last of the night-soil men rattling off with their carts, Diana arrived home to find the kitchen still dark but for the banked embers in the fireplace.

Grateful not to have to manufacture an excuse for appearing downstairs at so odd an hour, she padded softly up to the privacy of her chamber.

As long as she came and went alone, she didn’t worry too much about any gossip the staff might exchange about her movements. The servants had already been instructed that she planned to go out most evenings and would let herself back in, so except for the maid who assisted her with dressing, they need not wait up for her. Though she supposed that directive might be unusual, the permission to end their long day when they chose, without having their rest depend upon the vagaries of their employer’s social schedule, was attractive enough, none had questioned it.

Once safely within her chamber, Diana seated herself in the chair before her own banked chamber fire. In a moment, she’d strip off the cloak and lie down on her bed, telling the maid when she came later in that she’d been so weary after returning, she hadn’t bothered to ring for her. Now, for the next few moments, she could let down her guard and recall the events of the night.

How wonderful it had been to no longer fight against Alastair’s insidious attraction! How exciting to respond freely to his touch, to let passion sweep her away to a satisfaction more powerful and complete than she’d imagined possible. She’d suspected loving Alastair would be magical, but words couldn’t begin to describe the all-encompassing power and grandeur of it.

The warmth she’d felt earlier bubbled up again, expanding until it filled her with a sense of peace she hadn’t experienced since long ago, in that other life.

Home, safe, content, she slept, to awake later feeling energised. The well-being stayed with her through the morning and well into the afternoon. Until, returning from a walk to the park with James and Minnie, the maid informed her as she entered the house that a solicitor was waiting in the parlour to see her.