Chapter 17 #4
She locked eyes with him. “If you don’t come back to bed immediately, I will make myself come and be damned to you.”
“But that’s not in the spirit of the game.” Julian suddenly realized he was enjoying himself for the first time since dinner.
“Unlike you, I can climax as many times as I want. One more makes no difference to our game.”
He finished the brandy and returned to the bed. “You agreed that I would dictate terms tonight, yes?”
She sighed. “Yes, but—”
He climbed back on the bed, spread her thighs, and slid his aching cock home, holding still while she tried and failed to climax around him. He reached up and cupped the back of her head.
“Stop,” he said softly. “Just let me fill you.”
He thought she’d argue, but she went still, her body relaxing under his.
“I can feel every hot throbbing inch of you,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re filling me up.”
He breathed deeply out through his mouth and in through his nose, as he concentrated solely on where their bodies were joined.
He could feel her, too, the tightening, the waves of motion, the gradual rise of urgency that made her quiver.
He became aware of other sounds around him, like the crackling fire and the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece and the idea that he never wanted to be like this with anyone else.
With that thought, his concentration fractured, and he gave a small, involuntary thrust, sending Carenza off into a roaring climax that wrung every drop of come from him and then more.
He remained on top of her and still joined, his thoughts in a jumble as several things became undeniably clear to him. He didn’t just want Carenza as his mistress. He wanted her as his wife, but how he’d achieve that was currently beyond him.
Much later, Carenza woke him up with kisses and they made love again, this time in perfect harmony without a single word spoken between them.
Before Julian fell back to sleep, he reminded himself to wake early enough to allow Carenza to return to her bed, and to unlock the servant’s door so that Proctor could come in and attend to him.
A persistent thumping permeated Carenza’s consciousness, and she opened her eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. She was still in Julian’s bed, daylight was streaming through the curtains, and someone was banging on the door.
She sat up, clutching the covers to her bosom, and shook Julian’s shoulder. “Wake up! There’s someone at the door.”
He rolled onto his back and stared up at her as if he’d never seen her before.
“There’s someone trying to get in!” she repeated.
It was enough to snap him out of his sleepy trance. He rolled out of bed. “Go back to your room. I’ll deal with this.”
“I’m naked.”
He found her nightgown on the floor and threw it at her. “Go.”
She’d barely made it into the dressing room before he was opening the door and demanding to know why Aragon was shouting at him.
“Put some clothes on, man!” Aragon boomed. “We’re going riding.”
Julian’s reply was inaudible, but Carenza had a fair idea what it might be. She put on her nightgown but remained at the half-open door as Julian’s voice rose to match his brother’s.
“Aragon, please listen to me. I am not going bloody riding at the crack of dawn.”
“Your loss,” Aragon said cheerfully. “I’ll go and ask Lady Carenza. Where exactly is her room situated?”
“You’ll have to ask my housekeeper. With all the extra guests arriving, she had a struggle to fit everyone in and all my plans were overset. Now, go away. I’ll see you after breakfast.”
“Righty-ho.” Aragon went quiet for a moment. “I say, you haven’t got a woman hiding under the covers of that bed of yours, have you? Because she’ll be gasping for air by now.”
“I do not,” Julian said. “Good morning, brother.”
Carenza was still smiling when she returned to her own bedchamber and almost jumped when she disturbed a young maid laying a new fire.
“Good morning, my lady!” the girl said. “You’re up nice and early. I’ll tell Bea, shall I? Then she can bring up some water for your bath.”
Over the remaining days of the house party, Julian made a point of distancing himself from Carenza during the day, but their wild nights continued to enchant him.
Every male instinct in his body was telling him to keep her close, to roar at the world in her defense, and that would never do.
The thoughts were so unusual for him, that it gave him cause to doubt them.
He wasn’t the kind of man who demanded such things from a sexual partner, and he wasn’t quite sure how Carenza would react if he did.
The thought of her ending their relationship completely was anathema to him, and he hated that, too.
So, keeping away from her—at least during the day—was sensible, and when had he ever been anything less?
He spent his time making sure his guests had plenty to do—walks around the estate, carriage rides to local attractions, and endless food.
Even his mother cracked a smile occasionally, although never when she thought he was observing her.
On the last day, he took them to a local church that had Saxon origins and some interesting standing stones in the graveyard that spoke of even earlier times.
After Carenza went off with Allegra into the church, Mrs. Sheraton took his arm. “Have you spoken to Lady Brenton yet?” she asked.
“I speak to her every day, ma’am, as I do all my guests.”
She cast him a disapproving look. “Don’t be coy. You know what I mean.”
“That I’m expected to persuade her to tell me her plans for my downfall?” Julian inquired. “I still have a problem with your logic on this matter.”
“You could at least try,” Mrs. Sheraton observed as she kicked a stone on the path. “She’s still devoted to you.”
“Fine,” Julian said. “If it means that you will stop nagging me, I’ll make an attempt.”
“Thank you.” She gave him a warm smile. “She’s lingering in the graveyard if you wish to speak to her now. I’ll make sure the others stay in the church.”
Repressing an irritated sigh, Julian went through the gate into the graveyard, where Lady Brenton sat perched on a large square gravestone, her head angled to one side, her beautiful face turned to the sun. He approached her somewhat warily, but she didn’t appear to notice.
It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she affected a start and pressed her hand to her bosom. “Oh! Mr. Laurent, you startled me.”
“I apologize.” He inclined his head. “I came to see if you wished to go into the church. It’s much cooler in there.”
She gave a dainty shudder. “I’m not very fond of dark and dingy churches, sir. I prefer the sunshine.”
“Quite understandable,” he agreed. “I’ve never quite seen the appeal myself.”
“You and I are similar in many ways, Mr. Laurent. I always said so.” She glanced at him from under her lashes. “It’s a shame we parted company.”
Despite his desire to find out her plans, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. “I suspect your husband would view the matter differently.”
“I was indiscreet,” she said flatly. “That was my sin. He has no issue with me having lovers, as he has no interest in bedding me himself.”
Julian sat on the other corner of the gravestone. “With respect, why not? You are a very beautiful woman.”
“Ours was not a love match.” She shrugged.
“He never liked sharing my bed. Once I’d conceived the two boys, he said that was enough of that and never came near me again.
And it’s not as if he already had a mistress on the side whom he loves—or a man, for that matter—he simply doesn’t desire anyone. ”
Julian tried to think of something to say but she kept speaking.
“After the boys went to school, he gave me permission to seek other men for my pleasure—which was good of him, I suppose. But I was meant to be discreet about it, and I wasn’t with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorrier that we were caught, rather than sorry for me, I’ll wager.” She met his gaze.
“Then you’d be wrong. No one should be trapped in a loveless marriage.”
She looked away. “Don’t be nice to me.”
“I’m not. I’m simply expressing an opinion I’ve formed over the years.” He hesitated. “I bear you no ill will for what happened.”
She rose to her feet, brushing off her skirts. “How good of you. I, however, cannot reciprocate. You made me look foolish.”
“How so?”
She looked back at him. “By telling everyone about the hilarious circumstances when you were caught by my husband in my bed.”
He frowned. “I told no one.”
“Then how is it that I heard your brother recounting the story at a ball in London just a week or so ago?”
“I didn’t tell him.” He looked down into her eyes, seeing both anger and, surprisingly, hurt in them. “I swear it.”
“Still …”
“He isn’t the most thoughtful of men. And, anyway, I’ll wager he saw me as the fool in the story, not you.”
“I don’t believe you. Retelling such a yarn would be very much in keeping with the rakish and charming Julian Laurent, would it not?” She raised her chin. “I don’t care anymore. One day someone will bring you down, and I’ll laugh along with the rest of society.”
“Do you believe my downfall is imminent?”
She smiled. “How would I know? But the sooner it happens, the more I’ll enjoy it.”
“I did not tell anyone about our last night together,” Julian repeated. “I cannot allow you to believe such a lie about me.”
“I can believe what I want, sir.” She eased past him. “In truth, I am sick of the lot of you.”
“Cressida …”
She swung back toward him. “You no longer have the right to use my first name.”
“Then why did you agree to come to this house party if you can’t stand the sight of me?”
She shrugged. “It was Mrs. Sheraton’s idea. She likes to cause mischief. I assumed she was your latest mistress and that she’d decided to show me how happy you were without me.”
“And knowing that, you still came?”
“Perhaps I wished to see it for myself, so that I could finally be free of you.”
“And are you?” Julian asked.
She smiled, the sunlight illuminating her face. “Not quite, but I’m getting there.”
He bowed. “I’m glad to hear it. I don’t deserve such consideration.”
“Another way we are alike, perhaps?” Lady Brenton moved toward the gate, and he walked alongside her. “Neither of us are capable of more than a few fleeting feelings that are easily dispersed when we find our next lover. I’m trapped in my marriage, but you …”
He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”
“You just have no heart, Mr. Laurent.”
She turned and walked away, her head held high, and disappeared in the direction of the church.
Julian didn’t follow her. Their discussion had raised several interesting points.
He concluded that she really would relish his downfall and was potentially involved in bringing it about.
Her comments as to his character had stung, but he wasn’t prepared to dwell on them while he was experiencing such profound emotions in his relationship with Carenza.
But wasn’t that why Carenza had agreed to bed him in the first place?
She, too, thought he had no heart to break?
He went through the gate and rested his hand on the warm stone wall that surrounded the graveyard as he stared in the direction of the church.
He was tired of being thought of as a rake and not a man of substance.
Even his own mother treated him like a wayward child, always anticipating the next scandal.
But he wasn’t that man anymore. Now, how to convince everyone else of that?