Chapter Twenty-Seven
Max had never seen Yihui so happy. He’d thought her a fiercely aloof beauty before. An exotic princess who could turn into an avenging angel. Never had he seen her nearly giddy with delight.
She whistled while she sorted through the herbs. Not a jaunty tune, as Max sometimes did when he was bored. Neither was it tuneless. Her sounds were commentary on what she inspected, punctuation as she approved or disapproved of her supplies.
It was delightful to listen to, though there were no words. Every click of her tongue meant something, every angry exhale or satisfied sniff conveyed information. And it was all the more revealing because she had no idea she was making noise.
They were in the library where he had set up a table for her use. He’d given Blue to the stable hands and carried her to the stool set there for her use. She’d smelled of the herbs they’d bought, and he set her down quickly rather than give in to the desire to inhale such alluring perfume.
The first thing she did as she settled was explain the tea she made for his mother.
It was difficult for her to express what she wanted in English, but he could see her passion for the topic.
He also realized there was a great deal more to understand than the simple humors every boy learned in school, though there did seem to be some similarities.
If only he’d been more interested in medicine than in King Arthur and his knights.
Given his lack of medical education, he couldn’t follow what she said, especially when she started labeling body channels in Chinese. But he loved watching her work. There was a joy in her skills, the way a master musician enjoyed his instruments.
And when she was ready, she called for his mother to drink the tea.
It was ridiculous really, all three of them staring in anxious anticipation. Was there an effect? Did his mother suddenly change into a serene lady of relaxed countenance?
Of course not. But she did enjoy the attention. Mother always enjoyed attention.
“Please, Your Grace,” Yihui said, “write down your feelings every day this week. What made you angry. What made you happy. Everything.”
“Goodness, that’s a lot of writing. Whatever for?”
“So we may see! If you take the tea, are you happier? Sadder? Better or worse?”
“But I can feel it, if it happens.”
“Better to write it down. Keep paper always at hand. We will read it together.”
“Together? You and me?”
“To see patterns.”
His mother nodded, her expression half confused, half thrilled. “I will get some paper right away.” And so she left with an excited purpose to her step.
“That cannot be real,” he said. “She just wants attention.”
“And she will get it while the tea settles her chi. It takes time for the herbs to take effect. Now she will give it that time.”
He could see how that would be effective. “But what happens when you stop giving the tea?”
“Why stop?” She dropped her hands on her hips. “Either she learns to moderate her moods or not. Either way, she becomes a wonderful customer.”
“Only if you listen to her.”
She nodded with a smile. “Yes.”
“But you can’t spend all your day listening to—”
“Silly old women?”
He didn’t want to say that, but then again, that was what he was thinking.
“As a girl, I was assigned to listen. My father was too important to hear the complaints of old women, but my grandmother told me there were women things to learn. So I sat, and I heard. Such things I learned!”
He leaned back to perch on his desk as he watched her. “Like what?”
She winked at him. “I learned how to sell things to old ladies. And young ladies. And all the ones in between.”
Well, that was very clever, but it had nothing to do with medicine and everything to do with commerce.
His parents would decry such knowledge as baseborn, but he found it interesting.
All of his time with Prinny, the work of the Benedict in the Foreign Office, and even his future as a duke had him dealing with the plans of men and the movement of nations.
He’d been too busy to bother with the life of women.
Until Yihui. Now he had all sorts of questions. What exactly could one learn from the fairer sex that was hidden from men like him? Meanwhile, she was grinding leaves with a pestle as she spoke, her words taking on the rhythm of a storyteller.
“Every man has people who listen to him. Women, if no one else. But who listens to the women? Who knows what the women know?”
“You do?”
She looked up from her work and gave him a brilliant smile.
“Yes, I do. I listen. It was the best thing my grandmother ever taught me. Some of it is silliness, so we got the ladies to talk to one another over tea. Some of it is important and so there is always a girl there who pays attention.” She picked up her pestle again. “Always someone.”
“You.” It wasn’t a question. He said it as he tried to imagine a small Yihui grinding away with mortar and pestle while listening to a chattering group of old women. The thought was delightful.
“When I was young, yes,” she said. “Then I grew older and had other responsibilities, so I taught the next girl what to do and what to see.” She smiled at him. “Seeing is just as important as listening.”
“That is very clever.”
She chuckled. “Now you have listened and learned.”
There was a sparkle in her eyes, a glint that had nothing to do with sexuality and everything to do with who she was when she was not afraid.
She challenged him, teased him, and was genuinely happy to be there with him without extra demands.
Indeed, she was the one proving her medical skills to him, and yet all he could think was that she was the most amazing woman he’d ever known.
He was standing beside her before he realized his plan.
And once he smelled her scent, he was lost to the need to possess her.
But he was not a man to simply grab what he wanted.
He touched her face first, trailing his fingers across her brow so that he could see her eyes.
Too often she kept her head down, feigning a timidity that was not in her nature.
He wanted to see her boldly, and so he swept her hair aside and watched as surprise flashed across her face.
“Have you been kissed before?” he asked, startled by how raspy his voice was.
“A few times,” she answered. “But only twice by my own choice.”
“And what happened?” he asked as he let his fingers slide across the smooth silk of her neck. “With the boy you said yes to?”
“Two boys,” she corrected. “One was a bad choice. I was fortunate my brother caught us.”
“And the other?”
Her lips ticked up in a smile. “He was sweet, and I was young. My grandmother caught us.”
“She didn’t approve?”
“She thought I could do better.” She shrugged. “She told me the boy was smart, which he was. He saw my worth but underneath, he was not kind.”
“Kindness is important to her?”
“She said it is the most important thing in a husband.”
“Not love?”
She shook her head, and the movement brushed his thumb across her lips. “Not love,” she said.
“Not passion either.”
“Never that.”
He curled his fingertips beneath her chin, tilting her head up such that they were nearly kissing—he leaning down, she stretching up. It was his favorite time in a seduction, that moment that teetered between no and yes.
He felt her breath on his lips and ached to taste what he could only feel.
She closed the distance between them. She stretched that last fraction of an inch until their lips touched, their teeth clashed, and his tongue could finally delve inside her.
Lust coursed through him, but he kept it in check.
He knew the pound of his heart, the hot swell of his cock.
But this time, he also learned the shape of her mouth, the rapid dart of her tongue, and the near panicky catch of her breath.
She did not know whether to be frightened or aroused, and he was determined to wait until she decided one way or another.
He continued to tease her lips, gently brushing across them as he darted into her mouth. He was tempting her to do more, to open herself up to him, and to surrender to what he wanted. And all the while, he kept his thumb stroking along the sweep of her neck.
It took a delightfully long time. Yihui was not a woman to surrender easily, but he won her over. She swayed against him as she gripped his arms. Her mouth fell open to his plunder. And her breath stretched into sighs as his hand slid down her neck to cup her breast.
She made a mew sound, high and sweet. He paused to see if that meant he had gone too far, but she clutched him. Her nipple was a tight nub, and he brushed it with the edge of his nail, back and forth while she trembled.
He licked her top lip then, a daring little stroke as he pulled back to look at her. He watched her eyes flutter open above cheeks that were flushed a dark pink. And still he played with her breast, letting it fill his hand while he squeezed it.
“Is this new?” he whispered.
“Everything is new with you.”
He grinned, loving the breathiness in her words. He used his free hand to press her head to the side so that he could kiss down her neck. She arched into him, letting him tease along her jaw and throat. He nipped at her, timed with a squeeze of her nipple.
She gasped in surprise, and he pressed her backward to give him better access.
Damn it, why had he sent her a dress that buttoned down the back?
He wanted to taste her breasts, to suck on her nipples, and to feel that moment when her legs spread for him.
Already he was tonguing across the line of her bodice.
She was trembling beneath him, her hands clutching him in a rhythmic pulse that echoed his own.
He could bring her to climax right here, right now. All he need do was slip his fingers inside her quim. He began to do just that only to realize she wore pants. Damn it, clothing everywhere.
She was almost prone on the table, his left arm supporting her shoulders as he stepped between her thighs. He wanted to rip her attire apart and thrust himself inside. If he had leverage, he might have, but she lay on his arm, and he had a shred of honor left to him.
So he focused on her pleasure. He set the heel of his hand to the junction of her thighs.
She was already gripping him with her knees.
It was easy to press in to where she wanted.
To thrust as he would with his hips, to circle over her nub while she gasped.
And to listen to her sounds as she climbed the heights of arousal.
He wanted her naked. He wanted to see her breasts bob as she gasped, to feel her wetness covering his cock. But he had to content himself with her gasps of surprise, and her mews of desire.
Her hips began pulsing into him, her back arching as her eyes fluttered. God, his cock throbbed, but he took delight in watching her.
He pulled his hand out from under her. He shaped her breast as best he could through the fabric. And he squeezed her nipple when he found it.
“Feel it,” she rasped. “Feel me!”
He dug his thumb between her folds. God, the fabric was soaking wet. Her belly quivered, her mouth parted. He pulsed against her mound, thrusting hard and circling. Once more. Once…
She cried out. The sound wasn’t loud, thank God. But the sight was as explosive as if she had screamed. Her body undulated beneath him, her breasts pushing against his hand while the tremors burst through her.
He watched while his cock screamed its own demands. He nearly scooped her up to carry her straight to his bed.
He didn’t. Instead, he watched the magnificent pulses roll through her body.
He reveled in the length of them and marked the slow dying pulse as they eased.
He watched her eyes flutter as she came back to herself.
And he felt her knees tighten against his thighs as awareness of her position returned.
He stepped back slowly. Then he eased her upright and resettled her clothing.
She was quiet and her gaze wouldn’t settle. She looked down at herself then at his hands, then darted up to his face before dashing away again. She opened her mouth a few times as if she wanted to speak, but no words came.
Just as well. He didn’t know what to say either.
So he touched her face, bringing it up until her gaze settled on him.
What was he to say? That she’d just given him the most erotic experience of his life?
That only the thinnest shred of honor was keeping him from taking her right here, right now?
Her lips were so red and her chest was still flushed rosy above her bodice.
Such beauty and so many things he could teach her.
Unable to stop himself, he kissed her again. He angled her head and thrust into her mouth with all the need that burned through him. And then he forced himself to back away.
Only a base roue took pleasure from a woman in his own household. He was not such a man, and yet need burned him.
“That,” he rasped, “is passion.”
She blinked at him. Her mouth parted, but what was she to say to that? He didn’t even know what he meant by those words.
He took another step backwards, the motion jerky as he forced himself to move away.
“I’ll be upstairs for a bit now,” he said. “I need to change before going to my club.”
What the hell was he talking about?
“It should take about an hour.”
What should? Reliving every exquisite moment of what they’d just done? That would likely linger in his thoughts for the rest of his life.
“If you are well occupied here for now,” he said, “I can carry you back to your room later. In…in an hour or so.”
She frowned as she sorted through his words. And then she looked back at the jars on the table. “I am…” She swallowed.
Beautiful? Exotic? Clever? Wonderful?
“I am well occupied.”
“Then I’ll bid you good afternoon.”
He bowed to her, his body still fighting itself. Then he spun on his heel and rushed away.