chapter 30
“I beg your pardon?” His voice came out a croak. Laura could not mean what James thought she did.
She made a little moue of exasperation. “You heard me. Please, if you have any gratitude, any friendship, do not make this more difficult for me.”
“I have no desire to upset you, I assure you.” He held himself rigidly, stifling his willful, idiotic hope. “Just say it, Laura, and be done with it.”
“Very well.” She drew a breath. “I have no desire to spend the rest of my life in some kind of marital limbo. Neither one thing nor another. Lady de Vere but not your wife.”
“You are both.”
“No, not really. I realize that I am not the wife you would have chosen had you not been in a desperate situation.”
“Nor would you have taken me.”
“No,” Laura admitted. “Probably not. But those people, those lives, are not a possibility. All we can deal with is what we have. Don’t worry, I am not asking you for love. But I would like to”—pink started along her cheeks—“to have what other married women have. I don’t want to grow old, knowing I’ve missed out on . . . well, on so many things.”
James clamped down on another stab of desire, waiting for whatever hook would come at the end of her statement.
Laura went on, not looking at him, “I know you must think me terribly bold, but I have been trying and trying to entice you, but it hasn’t worked. So I realized that I must just ask you. I wouldn’t do so if I did not think that you—the other day you seemed to feel some desire for me.” She lifted her head, setting her chin.
“Some desire.” He let out a little huff of a laugh. “You might say so.”
A hope he’d hardly dared to consider was now careening around inside him, and even as he tried to hold it down, he could feel the expectation, the hunger, bubbling up in him. James moved toward her, his steps slow and controlled. His eyes traveled over her face, taking in the delectable flush on her cheeks, the mingling of anticipation and uncertainty in her blue eyes. Her beauty made it hard to breathe.
“And what about you?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “The other day, did you feel some desire?”
Her blush deepened rosily, and now she could not meet his eyes. “Yes, of course. I hope you don’t think I go about kissing just any man that way.”
“I’m glad of that.” He crooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face up so that she gazed into his eyes. “But I gave you little choice, as I remember.”
“I didn’t notice.”
His gut tightened at her words, at the soft, almost dreamy expression on her face. He stroked his finger lightly down her throat. His blood was roaring in his ears. “I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”
“I know.” Her answer was so simple, her voice so clear and sure, it shook him.
“Laura . . .” The word was only a whisper as he bent and kissed her, his lips as soft as his voice. He raised his head and studied her as he cradled her face. His fingers trembled on her skin.
James’s eyes went to the thick braid of golden hair that draped over her shoulder. Reaching out, he curled his hand around it and slid his hand slowly all the way down. The rope of hair was softer than silk. When he reached the feathery ends, James tugged on the ribbon that tied it, opening the bow and pulling it from her hair. He tucked the ribbon into his pocket.
“My ribbon . . .” she protested.
“Uh-uh.” He grinned. “It’s mine now.” Freed from its restraint, the plait began to loosen. He twined his fingers through it, hastening the undoing. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
A smile curved her mouth. “Unbraid my hair?”
“Mm-hm.” His eyes were on his hand tangling through her hair, separating the strands and letting them whisper through his fingers. He rested his hands on her shoulders, thumbs tracing the line of her collarbone. “You see, I am a man of simple pleasures.”
“Are you?” Laughter threaded through Laura’s voice, and it made the hunger tighten and coil deep within James.
“Yes.” He brought up his other hand and cupped her face between them, his long fingers edging into her hair. “All I ask for is simple . . .” He bent and kissed her upper lip. “Utter . . .” He kissed her lower lip. “Perfection.” His mouth settled on hers.
When he lifted his lips from her, she said a little breathlessly, “Perfection? That’s a rather steep requirement.”
He shook his head slowly. “No. It is precisely what you are.”
James kissed her again. He would be slow and careful. This time, this woman, were important. He had never been, he hoped, a hasty or completely selfish lover. The journey was all the sweeter if one took one’s time, the pleasure greater when it was shared. But in the end, it had been that burst of satisfaction for himself he sought, and anything else had been incidental.
But Laura . . . Laura was different from any woman he had ever bedded. She was innocent, untouched. He had to get it right; he had to make it good for her. He could not let the desire that clawed at him make him rush. Much as he wanted to drink deeply, he knew he must sip. Woo her in a way he’d never wooed before.
He rocked his mouth against hers, giving, inviting, teasing. The little noise she made deep in her throat, the way her fingers dug into his shoulders, were his reward and his temptation, making his heart slam in his chest, his nerves sizzle.
Their kiss deepened; it was she who stretched up to him, her lips insistent, her tongue eager. James jerked the tie of her robe undone, pushing the dressing gown back and down so that it fell from her. Now there was only the thin material of her gown between them, a barrier so flimsy it was more arousing than any sort of protection. He slid his hand down over her back, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric. It was the most delicate, delicious torture.
He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her throat. He took the lobe of her ear between his teeth and worried it gently until Laura’s breath hitched and she pressed her body into him, her hands sliding beneath his jacket and roaming over him. It was all he could do not to throw her back on the bed and take her right there and then.
James stepped back, ripping at the impediment of his clothes, wanting more than anything to feel her hands on his bare flesh. Jacket, shirt, shoes all came off haphazardly. His hands went to the buttons of his trousers and then stilled as he watched Laura reach down and take her nightgown in her hands, pulling it up and off over her head.
The simple cotton gown slipped up over her skin, more tantalizing than the boldest display of flesh, revealing her to his eyes inch by inch. The cloth snagged for an instant on her nipples, and that alone was enough to send a shudder of desire through him. Then her breasts were in full view, rounded and soft, centered by pale pink nipples, already tightened with arousal.
She stole a glance at him, her cheeks bright pink, her expression a curious mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. James came closer, his hands reaching out to cup her breasts. His voice was low and thick. “You are so beautiful.”
He slid his arms around her, pulling her gently against him. He kissed her again, and this time his mouth was hungry and insistent, drinking her in. He slipped a hand between them, gliding down over the satiny skin of her stomach and stealing between her legs. Laura started in surprise but did not pull back, instead parting her legs a little to accommodate him. He smiled against her mouth. Her willingness, even eagerness, ratcheted up his passion.
He was hard as a rock, aching to plunge into her, to feel her close and tight around him, but he held back, stroking and kissing, teasing the slick satiny folds until she moved against his hand, mutely urging him on.
Sweeping her up in his arms, he laid her on the bed and, quickly divesting himself of his remaining clothes, he lay down beside her. Her wide, solemn blue eyes were on him the entire time, warm and faintly dazed. Her mouth was rosy from their kisses, soft and faintly damp. It made him surge with the need to kiss her again.
He settled in to kiss her, as if he could spend the rest of his life on this only, but as his mouth moved on hers, his hand explored her body. Finally, when he felt he must shatter under the force of his desire, he slipped down her body, his mouth finding and caressing every place he had touched her.
Laura’s hands moved restlessly, her nails digging into him when he took her nipple into his mouth. She moaned, her pelvis circling. “James.”
“Again,” he murmured, his lips against her ear, and nipped at the fleshy lobe. “Say my name again.”
“James,” she responded. “James, James, James . . .” She curved her hands down over his back and dug her fingertips into his buttocks, surprising a groan from him. Laura turned her head, pressing her lips to his shoulder. He buried his face in her neck, stifling the words that threatened to flood from his mouth.
He moved between her legs, and she opened to him. As he began to slide into her, Laura tightened for an instant, but James continued to caress her, his hands light, his mouth soft and coaxing on her breast, and she relaxed. Again he moved, and he felt her give, and then he was deep inside her, her body clamped around him, so tight and hot that he went still, struggling to hold on to his control.
He hung there for a moment, poised on the edge between instinct and restraint. Laura slid her hands up his arms onto his shoulders, her touch tender, and it filled his chest with such an odd sweet feeling he could hardly bear it. He bent his head to kiss her and began to move within her. He heard her sharp indrawn breath, and he almost stopped, thinking he’d hurt her, but that was followed by a low hum, almost a purr, and she smiled up at him, her eyes lambent.
Now, at last, he let slip the leash of his control, stroking in and out in an ever-building rhythm. He felt as if the world were hurtling through him, sweeping him toward some other unimaginable realm. She was soft and yielding beneath him, her heat drawing him in, surrounding him. And when she let out a soft cry as the pleasure took her, he surrendered to his own surging passion.
James collapsed against her, holding her tightly. He knew he was probably crushing her, should release her, but he could not move, could not let her go. Laura made no effort to pull away, only curled her arms around him and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. There was no reason for that to make him feel so . . . well, he wasn’t even sure what it was he felt. Fierce, somehow, and strong, as if he could do anything, defeat anyone.
It was, he decided, the rush of life in him, the strength and health returning to him after so long. He was himself again. It had been days since a headache or a tremor. He no longer had to brace himself to go up or down the stairs, didn’t have to assume a mantle of ease. He’d returned to riding, and just the other day he had walked all the way down to the castle and back, not even thinking about it.
Tonight had been more evidence of that. The explosion of joy and release. Pleasure that he had thought he would never have again. The bone-deep satisfaction. Of course, he could not remember ever having felt quite this way before. It doubtless would not continue.
But he wasn’t about to give it up now. James rolled to his side, his arms tight around Laura, taking her with him. She nestled into his shoulder as he pressed a kiss into her hair. Closing his eyes, he drifted into sleep.