Chapter Eleven

 

 

“Are you quite sure this is proper, Letitia?” Harriet looked up at FitzArden Hall as they approached.

“Of course. Even more so, now that you’re with me.” Letitia shifted her bonnet to shelter herself as much as possible from the large drops of rain falling on them from the thinning canopy of trees. Autumn was setting in.

“But…”

“Harry, please stop worrying. If James isn’t there, I shall persuade one of his lovely footmen to give us a cup of tea, and then we shall return.”

“It’s one thing to encounter the gentleman on a walk, you know. Quite another to visit him at his home without a chaperone.”

Letitia sighed. “Harry. I am not a young debutante, and the Ridlington reputation is far more damaging than a brief visit to a neighbour in the country. “

“Hmph.” Harry strode onward, but made her feelings known quite accurately with her snort of derision.

Letitia walked up the new marble steps to the front door and rapped hard. “As soon as the door knockers are installed, this will be a lot easier.” She rubbed her knuckles.

James himself opened the door, then held up his hand. “I know. Door knockers are on the list for this week.” He grinned. “Do come in. Try not to drip near the wainscoting. It’s just been varnished.”

“Such a delightfully formal welcome, James,” laughed Letitia as she and Harry divested themselves of their damp outer garments. “You know how to make guests feel right at home.”

“Once it’s done I’ll be better at this sort of thing. Trust me.” He made sure that their cloaks and bonnets were handed to a maid, then ushered them into a comfortably sized parlour where a warm fire burned.

“How lovely.” Letitia approved. “The fireplace is perfect and the furnishings everything you could hope for.”

“I’m glad it meets with your approval. Since you suggested most of it, anyway.” He smiled as he seated the ladies. “How do you go on, Miss Harry? Is Letitia treating you well?”

“Indeed yes, sir. Thank you.” She looked around. “This is truly a lovely room, but I’m not sure if I…”

The door opened and Paul peered inside. “Can I join you or is this a private party?”

James beckoned him. “The more the merrier. Perhaps tea is in order?”

Paul looked unimpressed as he walked to the fire and held his hands to the flames. “I’m thinking that on a day like this, after the walk these ladies must have endured just to visit you, James, you might offer something a little more—warming?” He strolled away to a side table where a decanter of deep gold liquid sparkled in the firelight next to an assortment of glasses. “May I interest you ladies in a drop of brandy? Just to chase away the chill, of course…”

Letitia laughed and clapped her hands together. “Yes. I am most interested. And we shall be quite unorthodox in our views; Harry will have a glass as well, and we shall discuss…oh, all manner of things without restraint.” She leaned back negligently in the couch and eyed the men with interest.

“An unorthodox afternoon it shall be then,” agreed James. “Um, should I have those kinds of views on anything? I’ve never really thought about it.”

Paul distributed snifters of brandy and took a seat. “I’m sure there are a dozen topics that might suit,” he offered. “Providing they’ve nothing to do with building, finishing, painting or furnishing things, I’m all for them.”

Daringly, Harriet chuckled. “Has it been so bad then, sir?”

“You have no idea, Miss Harry,” smiled Paul. “I swear I feel a megrim coming on as soon as James says things like I’ve had an idea or What do you think of this?”

His words produced a general laugh.

“Paul, you’ve never had a megrim in your life, have you?” James pointed a finger at him. “You’re being dramatic. Overly dramatic, since I don’t recall using either of those expressions for…well…quite some time…”

“Yesterday?” quizzed Paul.

Thus the conversation took a light-hearted tone, with the men enjoying a back-and-forth of good-natured insults and the ladies chiming in when appropriate. Relaxing under the influence of the warm fire, the convivial company and an excellent brandy, Letitia was delighted to note that Harry was smiling and adding her own quick rejoinders without hesitation.

At this moment, she could see the lady that Harriet must have been; her education and breeding showed clearly. This was a safe environment, and Letitia felt that perhaps it did Harry good to be herself, even if only for a little while.

Sipping her second brandy—goodness where had that come from? —Letitia’s mind wandered to James. He glanced at her now and again, with a smile or a shared jest. There was something in his gaze today, thought, something a little more intense perhaps. Then again, she wondered if she was just imagining it.

Suddenly all the hints she’d been receiving crawled into her mind and settled there, eroding the barrier she’d erected to prevent this sort of thing. What if? What if she asked James to help her out with her writing problems? Would he be willing?

Her muscles tightened at the thought and her reservations flew up the chimney.

James was sitting next to her on the sofa, his arm stretched comfortably along the back behind her. Sighing, she took a healthy sip of her brandy.

“It’s a good year,” remarked James.

“Mmm.” She looked at him, noting the planes of his handsome face and the flicker of the fire reflected in his dark eyes.

Paul and Harry were engaged in a lively debate concerning art and artists, and finally Paul turned to James. “I am about to kidnap Miss Harry.

“Are you?” blinked Letitia. “For what purpose, sir? Some nefarious plan I assume?”

“Of course.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows as Harriet giggled. “In fact, I am going to show her your paintings, James. The ones you’ve hung and the ones that still await your pleasure.” He stood, “Believe it or not, ladies, this London fop here has an unexpectedly excellent taste in art. And he’s just obtained the most magnificent work by a chap called Turner. It’s…engrossing to say the least and I want to hear what Miss Harry thinks of it.”

“I shall look forward to hearing her opinion,” said James casually. “You know where they are, Paul.”

“Indeed.” He held out his hand to Harriet. “Shall we, Miss Harry? I will expect you to be honest in your opinions, you know. I will not tolerate prevarication on such an important topic as art.” He opened the door for her. “However, on any other topic, you may freely prevaricate.”

They left the room on a laugh, and as the door closed, Letitia became aware that she and James were now alone.

They’d been alone before…but somehow, at this instant of time, it was different.

His hand drifted to her neck, and she lifted her gaze to his as his fingertip barely grazed the bare skin.

She shivered, then took a breath. “James,” she whispered. “I need to ask you something.”

 

*~~*~~*

 

A man only had so much willpower, thought James to himself, as he finally indulged a simple desire—to touch Letitia’s skin.

When she turned to him with those blue eyes of hers sending lightning bolts of arousal to his cock, he was lost. Whatever she wanted to ask…his house, his stable, his fortune…anything she wanted was hers.

He fought for control. “Ask away, my dear.”

She put her snifter down carefully on a side table. “I’m not sure how to present my question.”

“The simplest way is often the best.”

“Yes, well, you see it’s about—about this book I’ve written.” She fiddled with her skirt. “I believe I did mention I was working on one?”

James’s jaw was in danger of locking as he bit down on the shock of lust tearing its way up his spine. “Yes, I think I recall you saying that,” he managed.

“Well, you see, I actually finished it and sent it to a London publisher and he’s interested in publishing it and he has a contract ready…” It all tumbled out in one long breath as Letitia revealed her secret.

James gulped. “That is amazing news. Congratulations, Letitia—how exciting.” He tried to replace unrequited lust with excitement. Apparently it worked, since her smile broadened.

“It is indeed. I don’t need to mention how thrilled I am with the notion of being a published author.”

“Of course.”

“But there is one slight problem…”

“Well, I would imagine there might be a few,” he said calmly, while his balls solidified beneath his breeches and his cock threatened torture if he didn’t do something about it soon. “Publishing a book is no small enterprise. A few stumbling blocks along the way are only to be expected.”

She nodded. “This is somewhat more than a stumbling block though. And I’m hoping…” she took a breath, “I’m hoping you may be able to help.”

He inflicted even more agony upon himself by resting his hand companionably on her shoulder, sternly telling it that her breast was not available for caressing. Yet. “Anything I can do. You have only to ask.”

“Right then.” She straightened, turned to him and looked him firmly in the eye. “I want you to educate me in the sensations that accompany physical intimacy between a man and a woman. I need to know what it’s like to be touched that way.”

The silence was broken by the sharp snap of the fire.

“Say something, dammit.” Letitia leaned forward and thumped his knee.

It was everything he’d wanted to hear from her since he read her damn book. James smiled, a slow smile that belied the rapid beating of his heart. “Of course.”

Then he seized her. “Come here.”

She landed on his lap with a gasp and a swooshing bouquet of skirts and ruffles. “James,” she squawked, grabbing his arms to steady herself. “What…”

His mouth silenced her, finding her lips without any difficulty, then urging them to part with his tongue.

A moan slipped out as he bent her more comfortably in his arms, pressing their faces together, plundering within her mouth as she opened and let him inside.

Within moments she was just where he wanted her, lying across him, her head trapped between the back of the sofa and him. He could claim all he wanted, play all he wanted, and let his hand roam wherever he wanted. And he wanted it all.

Sweet and tangy, Letitia’s kiss—after the initial shock of the contact—became everything he could have imagined, and more. She moved a little, tentatively exploring with her tongue, hesitant at first. He loved that. It told him that he was the first to kiss her this way, the first man to discover the secrets lurking behind her lips. The first man to taste the unique flavour that was her.

She let her hand move to his neck, her fingers finding his skin and sending shudders of pleasure up and down his back. He crushed her to him, tossing gentility to the winds, kissing her as if he’d never kissed another woman in his life. He was starving and she was a ten-course meal.

As their lips met, clashed, parted and met again, James was ever aware of the response she drew forth from him. How could he ignore the straining cock and the abrasion of his breeches, which gave new meaning to the word uncomfortable. But he knew that his ultimate goal, to have her in all the ways there were, would have to wait. It was not for now, not for today.

Today was for her introductory lesson in pleasure.

Casting himself in the role of teacher shifted things a little for him, and he was able to focus on her needs more effectively and set his own aside. The kisses were wonderful, arousing both of them. Perhaps it was time to move to the next step.

He pulled his head back, looking at her, loving the flush in her cheeks and the heavy eyelids over blue eyes that were shining with excitement.

“God, James,” she whispered. “I had no idea…”

“There’s more,” he whispered back. “So much more…”

She swallowed, her throat rippling beneath his gaze. “Show me.”

“All right. A little more then…”

Her skin was ivory and silk as he slid his fingers from beneath her ear down to her shoulder and beneath the sleeve of her dress. The garment was cut in the fashionable style—low at the neck with puffs of fabric at the shoulders. In deference to the season, there was lace around her arms to her wrists, but that was no impediment to James’s objective.

He eased the dress away from her shoulder, kissing the skin as he bared it, listening to the tell-tale little gasps, sighs, sensing the movements of her body as she surrendered to this new experience.

Tugging the gown further down her arm, the inevitable result occurred, and one breast emerged from its cocoon. A firm globe tipped in dark rosy skin, the sight of it drove James’s personal torture to levels he’d never believed he could withstand.

She stilled, holding her breath as she became aware of what had happened.

Instead of unfastening his breeches and plundering this woman, fucking her until they both screamed themselves hoarse, he once again fought with his baser instincts…allowing himself the one thing he knew she’d never felt before.

He lowered his head, and gently—oh so gently—he began to caress her breast.

At first it was delicate strokes of his fingers, just holding, cupping, letting her grow accustomed to his touch. Then he ran his thumb softly across her nipple, watching the nub rise to a sudden peak, pebbling sharply in response.

She sucked in a harsh breath. “God, oh God, James…that’s…”

“I know,” he whispered. And then he kissed the rosy peak, and followed that by opening his mouth and suckling as much of her breast as he could, teasing the nipple with his tongue, swirling it around and pushing the globe into his mouth. He sucked harder, feeling her entire body writhe against him, trapped as it was between him and the sofa.

He sucked again, repeating his actions, but this time he freed his hand and moved it down, grabbing her skirts and uncovering her leg.

Within seconds he’d found bare skin and he traced it up, up over her knee to her thigh, his fingers pressing, dragging as he moved his hand toward the heat he could already feel coming from the top of her thighs.

She moaned and wriggled, parting her legs, obeying an instinct she probably never knew she had.

And when he found her, when his hand reached her womanly places and firmly cupped the soft, wet folds—she cried out.

That was the moment James knew he must stop.

Because if they went any further it would be dangerous, both to the plan fermenting in the back of his mind, and to Letitia’s reputation.

It was agony, but it had to be done.

He released her breast and gave it a final kiss, just as he removed his hand from her sex and smoothed down her gown over her nakedness. Then he sat up, eased her into an upright position, and helped her adjust her clothing.

Finally, when he thought he might be able to speak real words, he lifted her chin with one finger and made her look at him.

“That, dear Letitia, is only the beginning…”

He could have sworn her eyes crossed slightly. “Really?” Her voice trembled a little. “There’s more?”

“So much more.”

A sound outside shattered the sensual connection and Letitia shivered and straightened, coming to her feet and shaking out her skirts.

James stood as well. “Don’t worry. They will not know.”

She nodded. “Will you teach me? Show me more?”

He gazed at her. There was no other answer, of course. “Yes.”

 

*~~*~~*

 

Harriet and Letitia stood on the steps of FitzArden Hall, bidding farewell to their host and his friend. The worst of the rain had stopped, but the day was still grey and damp, and both women were well protected in their heavy cloaks.

“Thank you again, gentlemen,” said Letitia with a smile. “A most enlightening afternoon, and very enjoyable.”

“Indeed,” echoed Harriet. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. DeVoreaux. I learned so much from you about paintings today.”

“My pleasure, Miss Harry. Letitia, it’s always a delight to share your company.”

“Ladies, you are always welcome.” James’s gaze seemed to linger on Letitia.

Harriet noted the slight blush that James’s words engendered. And wondered what had occurred during the hour they had been apart. She was determined to find out.

Their departure was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a traveling carriage approaching, bumping over the stony ground of the drive up to the front steps. It disgorged two footmen, strapping men of striking appearance who turned to assist a third passenger from the interior.

She was stunning; tall and elegantly gowned, her chestnut hair managing to glow beneath her bonnet despite the clouds and drizzle.

“James, darling…” She ignored the footmen, gathering her skirts and floating up the steps, past the two women without a blink and ending up with both arms around James. “London has been quite intolerable without you. I had to come and find out what keeps you in this desolate country hideaway, and of course to see if you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.”

With that, she grabbed him by both ears and kissed him passionately.

While Harriet, Letitia and Paul stared at the tableau in stunned silence.

James seemed stunned as well, since for a few moments he couldn’t move, and remained stock still while the woman wrapped herself around him and prolonged their kiss.

Harriet turned to Letitia. “We should leave.”

Letitia, white as a sheet and with an expression that would have made marble look fragile, nodded. “You are correct. We should.” She spun on her heel, nodded at Paul and started off down the steps.

A tinkling laugh followed. “Oh, I do apologize. How rude of me.” She disengaged herself from James. “Do introduce me, darling. Or are these just country maids delivering sheep or something?”

James frowned. “Of course not. This is Miss Letitia Ridlington, from Ridlington Chase, and her companion, Miss Harry.”

“Ah, Ridlington. Yes, I believe I met a very handsome Baron by that name not too long ago. Splendid eyebrows, but completely resistant to my lures. Quite frustrating.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and sighed. Then noticed Paul. “Oh, but you’re not a Ridlington, are you? James,” she glanced over her shoulder. “Who is this delicious gentleman? He looks quite shocked. We must enlighten him.”

She offered her hand to Paul, ignoring the two women on the steps as if they didn’t exist. “Since James has lost his voice at the moment, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Augusta Pierpoint. Lady Augusta Pierpoint.” She smiled seductively. “I’m James’s mistress.”