Читать книгу Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion - Энни Берроуз, Louise Allen - Страница 36

Chapter Eight

Amethyst could not believe the things he was prepared to do with his tongue. Part of her wondered whether she ought to stop him. But it was making her feel so...blissful. And she’d got the idea he wanted to do penance, in some way, so who was she to demur? Besides, when he slipped first one finger, then two inside her, she lost the ability to think anything at all. It was all melting heat, and rivers of delight, and then a kind of starburst that shattered her, yet made her feel completely whole for the first time in her life, all at the same time.

And then he was above her and sliding into her before she’d even recovered her wits enough to tense, or make a protest that she really didn’t want him to try again.

And this time it didn’t hurt a bit. In fact, it brought another wave of pulsating pleasure shivering through her, making her flex her hips upwards in an instinctively welcoming gesture.

He kissed her on the mouth. Gently, tenderly. A different kiss from any he’d bestowed on her before. He encouraged her to open her mouth, so he could drive his tongue inside. It was almost more shocking than having that other part of him driving into her, though equally as delicious. After a bit, she wondered if he was trying to distract her from the gentle, yet insistent rhythm he’d set up with his body, by teaching her lips to part, her tongue to duel with his.

If so, it was rather...sweet of him.

And then he broke away from her mouth, to pay attention to that sweet spot just beneath her ear, which sent shivers skittering all the way down her spine. And his movements became more insistent, demanding a response from her. And her body gave it, of its own volition. She’d just discovered that touching and kissing a certain spot between her legs resulted in almost unimaginable pleasure. Now, awakened, that place was clamouring for more sensation, more pressure. And the only way to get it was to grind upwards against his pelvis as he thrust down.

She wouldn’t have believed that after the pain she would ever permit a man inside her again, let alone want him to go deeper, and harder, but she did. She wouldn’t have believed he would be so sensitive to her needs, after the clumsy way he’d started, but he was. It was as though he was completely in tune with her body now, giving it exactly what it needed, a split second before she knew it herself.

So there was no reason for her to thrash about under him, or claw at his back, or wind her legs about his. Not that he seemed to mind. Not to judge by the way he kept on saying, ‘Yes, oh God, yes.’ Or the way he moaned and shuddered, and showered kisses all over her face and neck.

But then, once again, her mind took leave of her body as delight broke over them both in a great wave.

‘Amy,’ he cried as she splintered apart. And there was something in his voice that sounded almost as though...

No. It wasn’t tenderness. It was just...passion.

And yet the tone of it had plucked at some long-suppressed emotion deep inside her, which made her want to weep.

Which was ridiculous, she panted, as she drifted back to shore. She’d cried enough tears over this man in the past. His purpose in her life now was to teach her about pleasure.

And he had. Once he’d realized just how inexperienced she was, he’d applied his considerable skill with gentleness.

She should have told him, before they got started, that she hadn’t a clue about what went on between a man and woman in the bedroom.

So why hadn’t she?

It wasn’t just that she’d been flattered he thought her so attractive she could make her living in this way.

No. The truth was much more muddied. He’d accused her of tempting him to marry unwisely in his youth. If he’d known she was a virgin, she’d feared he might have thought this was a renewed attempt on his freedom. And she’d wanted him too badly to allow anything to make him reconsider.

All of a sudden, panic clawed its way to the surface. She wanted him, yes, but not enough to sacrifice her own freedom. Any more than she expected, or wanted, him to sacrifice his.

‘I really didn’t expect you to propose to me,’ she bit out, ‘just because I was a virgin. That is not why I chose you to become my first lover.’

‘Your first?’ He rolled off her and raised himself up on one elbow to glare down at her. ‘Do you mean to tell me you now plan to make a habit of taking lovers?’

No, she hadn’t meant that at all, but she could see why her words might have made him think so. But he had an infernal cheek to look so disapproving, with the reputation he had!

‘I don’t know. I might one day, I suppose. After all, I’m not going to stay in Paris for ever. And I most certainly am not going to marry you.’

‘You’ve already made that crystal clear.’

He was positively glaring at her now.

‘There’s no need to look at me like that, for heaven’s sake. You don’t want to marry me either! Don’t let’s spoil this by quarrelling. I was only trying to reassure you that I have no designs on you, just because you happened to be the man to whom I gave my virginity.’

‘No, I...no, I see that.’ He pursed his lips in a way that, had he been a woman, she would have described as a pout. ‘But I cannot help wondering why you did choose me for this singular honour.’

Irritating man! She was trying to reassure him that his precious freedom was not in jeopardy and he was twisting her words to make it sound as though...as though...well, into an insult, anyway.

‘There is no need to be sarcastic,’ she huffed, reaching down blindly for the quilt. Or a sheet. Or anything to cover herself up with.

He shifted, releasing a swathe of quilt which he tucked up over her breasts.

‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said drily. ‘But for your information, I was not being sarcastic. I do feel that you paid me a great compliment in coming here tonight and permitting me to initiate you into the joys of lovemaking.’ He looked troubled when he added, ‘I only wish I had done better...’

Her immediate reaction was to try to console him.

‘Oh, no, you were very good. Really.’ What was the matter with her? Trying to make him feel better? He was a man, for heaven’s sake. A fully grown man. Just because he’d pouted like a sulky boy, then looked a bit hurt, that was no reason to pander to his vanity.

‘Except to start with,’ she therefore reminded him and, feeling a twinge of conscience, hastily added, ‘And that was partly my own fault.’

He gave her a lazy smile. ‘Thistle,’ he said, and kissed her shoulder. The one bit of her that was peeping out from under the quilt. ‘You really are prickly, aren’t you? Most women would be purring like a contented kitten after that.’ But she wasn’t most women. And he’d hurt her so badly before, of course she was going to throw up a shield of sarcasm, from behind which she could jab at him with her sharp little tongue. It was all the protection she had.

‘Well, if that’s going to be your attitude...’

He held her tight when she would have rolled away from him and clucked his tongue.

‘I am not criticising you, not at all. It was merely an observation. And a note to myself that I need to do better next time.’

‘Next time?’ Her eyes were wide, her lips parted, her knuckles white as they clutched the quilt to her chin.

‘But you will have to give me a little respite,’ he said, rolling on to his back and tucking her into his side.

‘Respite? What do you...oh! Well, I didn’t think we’d be doing that again. Not now.’

‘No, not now,’ he said amicably. ‘In just a little while.’

‘No, really, I...’

‘Don’t be so demanding, woman,’ he said. ‘I have told you I need a little rest before the next round.’

‘That wasn’t what I meant! I...oh...’ she glanced up at him when he started to chuckle ‘...you’re teasing me.’

‘Has nobody ever teased you before?’

She shook her head. ‘Not since...well, you.’

‘You must have mixed with some very dull people since we last met then. Want to tell me about them?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘Well, what would you like to talk about, then?’

Her fingers clutched at the quilt a bit more tightly. Her eyes narrowed warily. If he wasn’t careful, she would retreat behind her protective shield and he wouldn’t be able to find out anything about her. And he had this burning need to find out what had happened to her after he’d abandoned her. He couldn’t bear to imagine her life being as miserable as his had been. If he could just find out that she’d found some contentment in her spinster state, it might assuage his guilt. A tiny bit.

He shrugged one shoulder, as if her next words weren’t going to matter to him one way or another.

‘If you don’t want to tell me anything personal, then...you could recite some poetry, I suppose.’

‘Poetry?’

‘Yes. To get me back in the mood. I don’t suppose you know anything naughty, do you?’

‘Of course I don’t!’

‘Been living a pure and simple life, have you? Tucked away in that rectory with your parents?’

‘No. Far from it,’ she huffed.

‘Oh?’ He permitted himself to show curiosity now. ‘Then you’ve been...travelling the world, posing as a lightskirt, perchance? Using the man who calls himself Monsieur Le Brun as...cover for your work as a spy?’

‘Now you really are being ridiculous.’

‘It is worth it to see that smile return to your eyes.’ He cupped her jaw and turned her face up to his. ‘Come on,’ he said in a cajoling tone. ‘Tell me one thing about yourself. Satisfy my curiosity. Otherwise I am going to imagine all kinds of wild and inaccurate things about you.’

‘Such as, for instance, that I have such poor taste that I would sell my body to a man like Monsieur Le Brun?’

‘Well, if you cannot give me a better excuse for travelling with him, what else am I to think?’

‘That my friend and I hired him, perhaps? To act as courier and guide, since it isn’t the done thing for two single ladies to travel without protection?’

Her voice had an acid tinge to it that made him think of tart, ripe berries. Which in turn led to him thinking about puckered, pink nipples. How did she do this to him? Get him roused simply by sniping at him?

‘You hired him?’

She tensed again. She really didn’t want to let him know anything about her life, which made him all the more determined to find out all there was to know about her. Everything she’d done since she’d vanished so completely from London.

He slid his hand under the quilt and toyed with one of her breasts until the nipple formed into a tightly furled, mouth-watering little berry.

‘Who is this friend of yours? How do you know her?’

‘What is this? Why are you interrogating me?’

He rolled over, pinning her beneath him.

‘Because you won’t tell me anything. Tell me just one fact about you. Satisfy my rampant curiosity.’

Her eyes widened at his deliberately suggestive tone. She’d also registered that it wasn’t only his curiosity that was rampant.

‘One fact,’ he growled.

‘Very well,’ she sighed. ‘Fenella and I...’ She gave a little wiggle. ‘Fenella is a widow, with a small child and no income. I have inherited a house, from a rather eccentric aunt, with whom I lived in the latter years of her life. We have...an arrangement.’

‘That’s...’ his brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate ‘...seven facts. Very generous of you.’ He dropped a kiss on her brow. ‘I think that deserves a reward.’

He nudged her legs apart.

‘You really are the most arrogant, conceited, infuriating man...’

‘Don’t forget irresistible,’ he said, sliding into her. ‘And before you claw my eyes out, remember, I think you are irresistible too.’

Her eyes widened. Her muscles relaxed.

‘You do?’

‘Utterly irresistible.’ He kissed her jaw, then her neck as her head rolled to one side.

‘How can you doubt it? I pursued you all over the city, even though I thought you belonged to another man.’

‘Oh! Hmmm. You...’

‘Yes.’ He pulled the quilt down, and started the slow assault on her senses all over again.

It was a long time before either of them spoke again.

* * *

Amethyst opened her eyes to find him standing over her with a tray bearing glasses, some cheese, some fruit and a hunk of bread.

Wearing nothing but a lazy grin.

‘Refreshments, my lady,’ he said, putting the tray down on the bedside table and perching on the edge of the bed. ‘Cannot have you fainting away from hunger on your way home.’

And she would have to get up and go home soon, she realised. She wasn’t sure how long she’d dozed, but they’d already spent several hours in this bed.

‘When can I see you again,’ he asked, as he poured wine from a carafe into one of the glasses and handed it to her. ‘Soon, I hope?’

The eagerness in his voice soothed some of the sting that his less-than-subtle hint it was time for her to leave had inflicted.

‘Tomorrow evening, I should think. I shall tell my...friend, Fenella, that since we won’t be staying long in Paris, you need to work on my portrait as often as possible.’

He frowned briefly, turning away to pull some grapes from their stalk.

‘I had hoped perhaps we could meet during the daytime, too,’ he said, popping one into her mouth. ‘I should like to show you something of Paris. The real Paris. Not the one your hired guide will show you. The one that the citizens inhabit. And tomorrow is Sunday.’

He turned back to her, an eager, open expression on his face that reminded her of when they’d both been so much younger and they’d talked about...anything and everything.

‘I could take you outside the barrière, perhaps to the Jardin de la Gaieté. The locals get paid on Saturday and they tend to go outside the barrière to spend their money, where goods don’t incur Paris custom dues. It’s like a huge open-air party, with feasting and dancing all day.’

Something seemed to turn over and flip inside her. He had no idea how wealthy she was. He’d looked at her clothes, listened to her story, which had made it sound as though she and Fenella were pooling their resources, and come up with an entertainment that would make what little money he supposed she had go as far as possible. It meant he really wanted to spend time with her.

‘I am sorry,’ she said, surprised to find that refusing his invitation really had caused her a pang of regret. ‘But I have already made plans.’

‘You could break them.’

Yes, she could. The trouble was that she wanted to do just that far too much. It felt wonderful to have him look at her like that as he asked her to spend the daylight hours with him, as though he really wanted to be with her. But then he’d made her feel like this when she’d been younger, too. And just look how that had ended!

No, it was more honest to just limit their relationship to what it was truly all about. If they started to behave like a...well, like a courting couple, then she might start to slide into feeling something for him besides the physical fascination she couldn’t deny he exerted over her.

‘No. I don’t break my word,’ she said firmly. Besides, it would be much healthier to spend time with her friends, friends who would still be there for her when this affaire with Harcourt had burned out. As it surely would. By all accounts he was incapable of sticking to one female for much more than a week.

‘What about the evening, then? I have an invitation to a soirée you might find amusing. We could go together.’

She frowned up at him. ‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea.’ She didn’t know what kind of circles Nathan moved amongst these days. It was just possible she might get introduced to one of the merchants with whom she was trying to do business. And then if they spotted her with Monsieur Le Brun, who was acting for her, they might put two and two together. It was only a slight possibility, but still...

He sucked in a sharp breath. ‘You want to keep our affair secret. I can understand that.’ He shrugged, and smiled, but it was a cynical smile that made her sorry she’d spoken so sharply. ‘But you will come to me again?’

Oh, that was better. Much better. He found her so irresistible that he would accept any terms she chose, so long as she returned to his bed.

* * *

She had hugged the sensation to herself all the way home and woken up the next morning with a smile on her face.

She wasn’t unnatural and unfeminine, as her father had decreed she must be, for preferring to stay with her aunt and work at her ledgers rather than crawl home to the vicarage and...stultify. She was a desirable woman. Nathan Harcourt, the man who had once spurned her, wanted her. Her.

Without knowing a thing about her fortune.

She stretched her arms above her head, wincing as she felt the pull of muscles left tender from all those hours of lovemaking.

No, not lovemaking. She wasn’t going to mistake his enthusiasm for her body as affection, not this time round. Nor was she going to fall for him, or anything silly like that.

He wasn’t anything special. He was just here. At a time in her life when she was ready to explore new possibilities. To find out what she really wanted from life. She’d known it wasn’t the cloistered, cramped existence that was all Stanton Basset had to offer. She’d wanted to break free of its petty restrictions, it’s narrow-minded parochialism. And she’d thought visiting Paris would do it.

She’d been wrong.

Taking a lover had been what she needed.

They would say she was wanton, if they knew what she’d done last night, the town tabbies. And wicked, to boot, for turning down Harcourt’s guilt-induced proposal.

It had surprised her, that proposal. It was the kind of thing an honourable man would do and she’d long since ceased to think of him as anything more than an out-and-out scoundrel.

But he wasn’t all bad. He had wanted her, truly wanted her, when he’d been a young man. And if he’d been the villain she’d believed, the rake that the scandal sheets had branded him, he could have taken her virginity then and left her sullied as well as broken-hearted.

But he hadn’t bedded her when she’d been a girl. He might have cut her out of his life quite harshly when he’d decided to marry for gain, rather than...well, she hesitated to use the word love, but it really did look as though he had felt something for her. But he had left her in such a way that she could have married someone else.

If she hadn’t been so shattered.

If her parents hadn’t added to her misery by heaping all the blame upon her.

If her aunt hadn’t swooped down and taken her under her wing. And fostered her poor opinion of the male species until she, too, had grown to dislike them all on principle.

Well, that was all water under the bridge now. It was Sunday and, instead of trudging to church and listening to the moralising of plump and priggish Parson Peabody, she was going out on an excursion of pleasure. Monsieur Le Brun had organised a carriage to drive them out to the Bois de Boulogne. It sounded rather tame, she sighed as she got out of bed, in comparison with the all-day ball that Nathan had invited her to attend. But as she washed and donned her clothes, she reminded herself that it wouldn’t do to let him monopolise her time. He was already monopolising her thoughts.

He would have to be content to have the access to her body that no other man had ever known.

Listen to her! Planning to keep her lover at arm’s length. She giggled at her newfound confidence in her attractiveness. Oh, if only she’d known how good making love would feel, she would have taken a lover years ago.

Or at least she might have considered it.

Though...actually, she hadn’t ever felt the slightest curiosity about what it might have been like to so much as kiss a man, until she’d run into Nathan again.

But then, she hastily reminded herself, she hadn’t been in Paris, either.

She had just about convinced herself that it was something about the revolutionary atmosphere lingering in Paris that had given her the courage to defy all the rules by the time she went through to the main salon.

And got the shock of her life.