Chapter Five #2
And that was all she was going to let him know. She had no intention of revealing the extent of his hold on her heart.
She wrapped her arms around her legs. “You may not be sorry, but I feel like I am a disappointment to you.”
“Are you serious?” He snorted in disbelief. “I know the pressure of high expectation too well to ever lord disappointment over anyone, let alone you. Besides, you haven’t disappointed me at all.”
“Not even on our wedding night?” She covered her mouth and looked away.
She had not intended for the question to slip out. She blamed those eyes of his, so solidly brown. So deceptively trustworthy.
“There’s no need for shame.” He stretched out his leg, placing a boot next to her skirt. “Not between us. And no, I wasn’t disappointed.”
“I must yield to your greater experience regarding—er—marital relations.” His heat, his nearness became nearly stifling. “There is…more, isn’t there?”
He looked away—back toward the chapel.
She hoped he’d answer and answer honestly. Wasn’t lying in a church worse—however ruined the church appeared?
“I’m not sure what you mean by more.” His Adam’s apple rose before disappearing again beneath his parted collar. His eyes met hers, warmer and brighter now. “I was…pleased.”
Panic bubbled up in her chest. Still, she leaned forward. “Pleased?”
“Yes, pleased.” He fell silent, but his face continued to speak of longing, his posture of reluctant restraint. “And I’d very much like to please you in the same fashion. I will…provided you tell me how I can.”
Kiss me. She could not be so forward. And yet, God help her, his earthy eyes were like magnets, pulling forth the truth.
“I dreamed of you,” she said. “Of us.” She dropped her gaze, studying the weave of the maroon thread in her linen habit…
in out, in out. “Last night, I dreamed you came to me and then we…repeated what we’d done.
Only, in the dream, you kissed me.” She hesitated.
“Properly. As if you couldn’t get enough. ”
*
Even though Harbury had loosened his cravat—generally considered a gross impropriety in front of a lady—he could still barely breathe. He’d untied the damn thing for relief from the heat…but not only just.
Part of him had wanted Cassandra to react, to blush, to give him some sign he could fluster her—sensually.
Until now, she had not given him any verbal indication she desired him.
But not only had she just acknowledged her attraction, physical signs of her arousal showed in her blush, in her damp and slightly parted lips, and in her hitched breath.
Once again, she’d upped the ante. And he was totally unprepared.
He’d brought her here simply to make her smile. Now, he wanted more.
She’d dreamt of him last night. He tried and failed to wrap his mind around the magnitude of her confession, while knowing he’d done more than dream of her. He’d emptied himself into a rag with a body-shaking, silent release.
Twice.
Only then had he been able to fall into a short and restless sleep.
He put his finger beneath her chin and raised her face. “Are you asking me to kiss you?”
“You must have some experience.”
He’d some experience, if not the depth of carnal knowledge she believed.
Most of his experience had happened here, in the long, thin antechamber still completely intact, but for the roof. He’d been infinitely relieved Cassandra had headed for the stairs instead of taking refuge in what remained of the buttresses on the opposite side of the ruins.
Had he intended to seduce his wife into kissing, he would have chosen a more private and less fraught location. Though his love of this place long preceded his clandestine meetings with Vivianne, he did not think Cassandra would appreciate knowing his history here.
An innocent mistake, but, he feared, a bad one.
Should he tell his wife the truth?
Tell her he hadn’t any more true experience of carnal knowledge than she did? Tell her how what they’d done together had knitted her into his mind and shifted everything he’d believed was solid, including the very earth beneath his feet?
Even here, where memories of Viv were too close, she’d become the brighter star.
Should he confess he’d brought her here only because he’d wanted more of her smiles? Confess, too, that though she hadn’t been the first person he’d wooed in these ruins, he now knew he wanted her to be the last. What better place to confess than a former Roman church?
But if he told her he’d brought Viv to this same place, this moment would end.
Confession, at present, would not be in his best interests. At least not in the best interests of the parts of him asserting increasing control.
She’d mentioned kissing.
Properly.
He stared down into his wife’s trusting eyes, his swallow even rougher than before. He focused on the slight protrusion of her lower lip. The more he focused, the further his memories of Viv slipped away.
He widened his parted legs, nestling her into the space between his thighs. She went completely still as she stared up over her shoulder, eager for whatever would come next. Though when he hadn’t any roadmap to follow, she appeared certain he knew exactly how to proceed.
“Tell me more,” he found himself saying, “about your dream.”
She tilted her head to the side, presenting the pale, tempting column of her neck.
Slowly—giving her ample time to protest—he encircled her body, and then he untied her bonnet. The silky ribbon slid softly through his fingers before he lifted it off. He set aside her hair covering, then he brought his lips to her ear.
Her sweet-scented hair was damp at her temples. The warmth of exertion and desire radiated from her skin. Still, her back remained stiff and she held herself apart. Just as well, he supposed.
He didn’t want to frighten her away with his own stiffening extremities.
“Please?” he added. “Tell me what images those mischievous fairies of night delivered?”
“You kissed me,” she repeated.
As she exhaled, her breasts brushed against his arm. His desire spiked, and with the spike, came an invigorating surge of confidence.
“So, you said.” He brought his lips to her ear. “Properly.” A little freckle on her jaw blurred as he drew in, ever closer. The scent of her, not just her hair, filled his nostrils. A heady, rich scent. “But properly how?”
“On the forehead first.” She touched a place just beneath her ear. “Then here.”
He pressed his lips to the place she’d indicated.
She dragged her hand across her cheek. “All along here, too.”
He drew back. “Did I eventually find your mouth?”
She audibly exhaled. “Yes.”
“And then?”
“And…then the dream ended.”
She’d paused just long enough to let him know she was lying.
Very well.
She was not ready to tell him more. He’d learned enough. For now. Of true intimacy, they were both ignorant. But surely, together they could find their way.
He moved a little to the side so she could turn more comfortably in his arms. He suppressed a shudder as his cock jerked…a protest, he guessed, of the increased space between them. But what he was about to do didn’t concern the satisfaction of his member, at least not yet.
His aim was the seduction of her mind.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, urging her to shift her position. As she did, he briefly held her gaze. Then, he kissed her forehead, just as she’d described.
Her warm sigh tickled his neck and seeped into his collar.
Holding back a deep-throated groan cost an inordinate amount of will.
His forehead brushed along her temple as he lowered his lips back to the side of her ear. There, he improvised. A light nip on her tender lobe caused her full body to quiver in abandon.
Potential unmoored him, as if he were a dinghy ripped free of an anchor by a building storm. The other night, when she lay accommodatingly, but unresponsively, beneath him, he hadn’t imagined she possessed such an arousable nature.
Blindly, he followed the line of her jaw and then…
And then, he found her lips.
The first touch was delicate, the tenderest of tests. He drew back slightly, surprised. Fleetingly, he thought of Viv, but Cassandra’s scent kept him tethered to the present, aroused, curious, and attuned to her every breath.
Either he’d forgotten the shocking, enlivening sensations roused by a simple kiss, or he and Cassandra were uniquely suited.
He set his lips back into the seam to better judge.
Yes. Just a slight stimulation of the fragile skin set his blood boiling.
Though he didn’t need any encouragement, her lips parted in further invitation, and he tasted her deeply.
Finally, she fully relinquished caution. She yielded, bringing her neck to rest pliantly against his arm. She was his to explore.
His to devour.
He brought his free hand to her cheek, holding her still, making sure she could feel each bold stroke of his tongue. The sun beat down against his head, his neck. He welcomed the heat, heat as quickening and vital as the fire building in his body.
The sounds she made—guttural, whimpery—only whetted his appetite for more.
His own sound of satisfaction came from deep within. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’d just enough awareness to track her hands as they crept up his shirt, over his collar’s edge and—yes, please—into his hair.
Did she know the light, recurring, patter of her fingers nearly matched the beat of his heart?
Whether she knew or not, her ardent response was stirring. She’d serendipitously found the very lever which, when pressed, would leave him forever vanquished.
Good God.
If he allowed the kissing to continue, he would end up taking his duchess against crumbling steps leading to nowhere, the remnants of an empire his ancestors had unjustly slashed to pieces in the pursuit of greed.
Worse still, he’d be claiming her on the site where he’d often wooed another.
Shame blossomed, an ugly, thorned weed in his mind. A rush of cold awareness shocked him, and he broke contact.
And he’d thought kissing her on their wedding night a sign of disrespect!
Bringing her to his special place with Viv, wooing her in the same fashion in the same haunting ruin, had been much worse.
She continued to clutch his neck as she made a sound of protest. Her eyes were dazed, her head heavy against his arm.
Ah, Cassandra.
She deserved so much better.
To cover his unease, he flashed an uncertain smile. “Was that comparable to your dream?”
“That”—she sighed—“was a little better than my dream.”
“Proper?”
She nodded.
“Good.” His voice could be a little less hoarse, but what could he do? “We’ve a lifetime to practice, but the horses…”
“The horses!” She pulled away. “Oh, my goodness, I’d forgotten all about the horses. They’ll be uncomfortable by now, poor things.”
“You’re so very good.” He tucked a lock of hair back into her coiffure. He wanted to apologize, but then she would want to know why, and he just couldn’t bring himself to ruin what had been such a revelatory kiss.
For her, too, he suspected. When he moved to tie the ribbons beneath her chin, he saw that her fingers were shaking.
“Allow me,” he said.
She stilled. Hesitantly, she raised her chin. He tied a gentle knot. Not as pretty, of course, as she might have done, but solid enough to keep the bonnet secure.
Then, he braced himself against the wall and stood, carefully stepping to the center, so when she rose, she would be on the wider part of the stair.
Once she was fully on her feet, he stepped down and offered her his hand.
She curled her fingers around his and did not let go as they made their way back through the wood.
A simple gesture, but one of nascent trust.
Trust he did not yet deserve but was determined to earn.
As they came into the clearing, his horse snorted his displeasure. If the horse only knew the high price his owner had paid in order to return to his mount, he’d think twice before tossing his mane!
Harbury checked the girths and straps, then turned back.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
He made a footstep by joining his hands and bending his knees.
She gazed at him skeptically, as if judging whether he’d lift her so energetically, he’d end up casting her straight over the horse.
“Don’t worry. I’ve had plenty of practice helping—” He caught himself just before saying Viv. “…My, ah, sister Sarah.” He forced himself to maintain his smile. “I won’t throw you, I promise.”
“Oh, no?” She smirked. “I’d have thought you would be keen to show off your strength.”
He was glad she’d missed his slip.
“You’re safe with me.” He swore to himself she would be.
She placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped into his threaded palms. He lifted her up with surprising ease, still he was glad for the exertion.
“I won’t expect more.” He looked up into her eyes. “Tonight, I mean. We have time.”
She studied him thoughtfully. “I appreciate your consideration. I, on the other hand, do have expectations. We’re married now. Your problems are mine. I expect you to include me in your concerns.”
Not an invitation to reopen the door between their chambers, but, perhaps, to something even more lasting. He’d believed himself in love with Viv, but Viv had never made a similar demand. In fact, she’d expected him to solve every problem they faced on his own.
Cassandra could become something he’d not known enough of the world to long for—a true ally. A lover, a friend, a companion and witness to his daily life. Someone, perhaps for the first time, on which he could fully rely.
Surprisingly, he found those possibilities infinitely better than a simple invitation to her bed.