Chapter 8 #4
Would she meet her future husband tomorrow? she wondered as they moved down the hall to her room. Oh, please, she hoped so. She wanted things to be settled, to be able to get on with her life and be free of this intolerable man—
“Here you are, my love,” Adam said, his voice low as he pushed open her door.
Susanna waited impatiently just outside the threshold as he stepped into her room and set the candelabra on the bedside table. She had no intention of entering until he was in the hall again, and she doubted that he expected her to. They had her reputation to think about, after all.
She wanted to get their good nights over with as quickly as possible so she could shut her door and bolt it.
He’d made no advances toward her since the kiss in the ballroom…
well, except for standing rather close to her when showing her how to play billiards, his hands over hers as he demonstrated how to hold the cue.
But she didn’t trust him. Not with him sleeping only a few doors away from her.
“Thank you, Adam,” she murmured when he returned to the hall.
The light was so dim this far from her bed that she could barely see him, but from the soft rustling of his clothing she knew he was very close.
She could smell him, too, that heavy, masculine scent that always had such a strange effect on her.
Becoming disconcerted by his nearness and the enveloping darkness, she moved abruptly to the door.
“I had a very nice evening. I hope we can play billiards again soon—”
Susanna gasped sharply as he grabbed her arm, not roughly but firmly, and drew her back to him.
“You’re in such a hurry, Camille,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath fanning her neck as he enfolded her in his embrace. “I’ve taught you so many things today, I thought you might want to learn how a man courting a woman says good night.”
“V-very well, Adam,” she replied, desperately wanting to scream out “No!” yet knowing that if she refused she would negate all the progress she had made in misleading him tonight. Her mind raced as he gently nibbled her earlobe, her thoughts somersaulting.
She could manage this, she assured herself, feeling shivers of sensation radiate from the ticklish point just beneath her ear where his mouth was wandering.
She was the one teasing him. She was in control here, not him.
She was in control…oh, dear God, why was he nibbling her ear again?
She clutched his coat, unable to deny how wonderful it felt.
“When a man bids his beloved good night, he kisses her on the lips,” Adam murmured, his breath a feather-light whisper on her flushed cheek. “Like this…very gently at first, so he doesn’t startle her.”
Susanna tensed when his mouth moved over hers, warm and fragrant with wine, yet with such a light pressure she unwittingly ached for more.
She relaxed in his arms, liking very much what he was doing to her mouth yet knowing she should stop him.
Why, then, couldn’t she find the words with which to speak?
“If he thinks she’s pleased with his kiss,” Adam whispered against her slightly parted lips, “then maybe he’ll make it a little rougher…a little deeper…”
A low moan broke from her throat when his mouth became heavier upon hers, growing more insistent, more demanding, and she wound her arms around his neck as she leaned into his hard body.
She felt a frightening wildness brewing inside her, like the time that boy had kissed her in the coach house, but now it was so much stronger that she was shaken all the way to her toes by its gathering intensity.
She sensed there was more he could give her and she wanted it… oh, she wanted it terribly.
With a wantonness she didn’t know she possessed, she opened her mouth to him as his tongue slowly wet her lips then plunged inside to seek her softness, his arms tightening around her like bands of iron.
She tasted his mouth as boldly as he ravaged hers, his husky groan exciting her all the more.
Then, just as suddenly, she was standing dazed and disoriented against the wall with only his hands supporting her waist.
“And if a man knows what’s best for the woman concerned,” she heard Adam say, his fingers tracing her swollen lips in the dark, “though he would like nothing more than to stay…Oh, God, Camille…”
He didn’t finish but guided her quickly into her room and shut the door firmly between them. Trembling and breathless, she leaned her forehead upon the wood, her hand to her throat, her pulse racing beneath her fingertips.
“Draw the bolt, Camille,” came his voice through the door, ragged yet resolute. “I want to know that you’re…safe.”
As she did what he commanded, her fumbling fingers at last managing to hold onto the lock, the jarring sound of the bolt sliding into place shattered the spell that gripped her.
Tears stung her eyes, her emotions in chaos. She waited until his footsteps receded down the hall, then she silently cursed him for how he was making her feel…wishing futilely, incredibly, that she was still just a lady’s maid and that he wanted her, Susanna Jane Guthrie, not Camille.