Chapter 20
The air was thick and heavy with emotion from their intimate conversation. ‘I can teach you…how to love.’ His huskily spoken words reverberated in her heart, causing it to beat faster. She’d been bold, first by asking him to read from the book, then inviting him to move beyond kissing. Could they do this and part when the annulment was final? To be honest, she wasn’t sure she still wanted the annulment. Why not explore their feelings and see where it would lead?
Mittens remained oblivious to the intense emotions swirling about the room, since she was fast asleep on the rug in front of the fire. Sliding her gaze to Riordan, Sabrina met his smoldering look. “How will you teach me? Where do we begin?”
He closed the book and set it aside. “Tonight. Here. I’ll be taking a bath. Stay in the parlor with me.” Previous nights, she’d retired to her bedroom. But it did not stop her from imagining him. To actually witness him bathe caused another blast of heat to settle in her feminine core.
“And do what?” Her voice was raspy, her breathing uneven.
Riordan hooked his boot under the chair rung and pulled her closer. The legs of the chair scraped noisily across the wood floor. “We’ll fill the tub. Then, you will undress me. Slowly. As you remove each piece of clothing, you will touch me, become used to my body. Observe how I respond to your touch.” His eyes were half lidded, his look entirely sensuous. “I wish for you to understand that I will never harm you. I respect you too much. I care for you…more than I should.” He repeated the movement with his boot, pulling her chair nearer until they were inches apart. “I’m falling for you, Sabrina.”
Words failed her. His light blue eyes glowed with sapphire fire. She nodded, her breath coming in short gasps as every part of her body throbbed with yearning. Heavens. He was falling for her. The prospect thrilled her to her toes. She returned the sentiment a hundredfold, but could not put voice to it yet, for her deep-rooted vulnerability bade caution.
“We must trust each other. Without trust, there cannot be…love.” He took her hand and laid it flat against his chest. His heart pounded fiercely under her palm. “Do not allow my confession to scare you. Let us discover. Open our hearts. Bare our souls.”
A lump of emotion lodged in her throat as her eyes welled with tears. His passionately spoken words moved her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Discover.”
“Once I climb into the bath, I wish for you to continue to touch me,” he murmured. An image formed in her mind, of him standing before her completely naked. What was the word in the bold seduction book? Resplendent. How it fit Riordan. “And wash all my bits,” he winked, using her jesting words from their marriage night. “If you wish, grab my shaft and stroke me to completion.” His heart sped up, as did hers. Her cheeks flushed red-hot. “Have I shocked you? Disgusted you?”
How surprising to find he hadn’t. “No. Not at all.”
Still grasping her hand, he slid it down his torso until it lay on his erection straining against the fall of his trousers. “This part of me is not a weapon, nor a means to hurt and humiliate. This part of me will bring you pleasure. I will not brutalize or hurt you. Instead, I’ll show you how desire can enhance existing emotions. We’ll move forward at your pace. Any time you wish to stop, say the word.” He squeezed their hands, and the thickness of him caused her to moan. “Shall we begin?”
“Yes. Begin.”
Riordan kissed her hand, then stood. He turned on his heel and headed to the door, opened it, then stepped outside, no doubt to fetch the copper tub. She quickly gathered the dishes and hurried to the kitchen. After placing them on the sideboard, she grasped the edge of the counter, trying to catch her breath.
Sabrina was aroused, and relieved to find that what Riordan described had not filled her with abhorrence. Images of the past tried to push into her mind—Pepperdon’s cold hands roughly grasping her breasts. Him forcing his…his—he called it a cock—into her mouth until she choked. No. The contemptible earl would not ruin this evening, nor dominate her thoughts. Be gone, you miserable reprobate. I no longer fear you. Taking gulps of air, she exhaled as she primed the pump. Locating the kettle, she filled it with water and placed in on the stove.
Unfortunately, she did not know how to light it yet. Riordan entered, efficiently lit the stove, filled a bucket, and carried it to the parlor. Together they filled the tub with a mixture of cool water from the pump and hot water from the stove. The copper tub stood in front of the fire. Mittens, who had awakened during all the activity, sauntered off to Sabrina’s room, no doubt to continue her nap undisturbed.
They faced each other. “Take off my clothes,” Riordan said, his voice as rough as sandpaper. Sabrina stepped closer. He’d already removed his frock coat before supper. Her trembling fingers fumbled with his neckcloth. Once unknotted, she tossed it aside.
Next, his waistcoat. After slipping the brass buttons through the holes, she pushed it from his shoulders, but not before trailing her hands across his broad chest. Muscle flexed under her touch. The garment dropped to the floor. Then she concentrated on his shirt. It was finely made, with porcelain buttons and a high collar. The material soft to the touch. Cotton perhaps?
Pushing the sides of his unbuttoned shirt, she gazed at his bare chest. He did not wear an undershirt—how scandalous. How delicious. Delineated planes of taut muscle hugged his torso, swirls of curly black hair spread across his chest and around his nipples. They were as hard as hers. She flicked one with the pad of her thumb and Riordan shuddered, a low groan escaping his throat.
Slowly and with concentrated purpose, she slid his shirt from his shoulders, her hands moving across his muscled biceps. With the tip of her finger, she followed a prominent vein that ran along the length of his arm. His skin, silky and warm to the touch, made her insides flutter with anticipation. “You are…well-made.” Sabrina took her time, trailing her hands across his chest and down his arms. Pulling his shirt from his shoulders, she admired the view. Never had she seen a man her own age in such a state of undress. She’d had no idea a man could look like this: masculine, muscular. Enticing.
The garment hung at his elbows, then Riordan straightened his arms and allowed it to fall to the floor next to the waistcoat. Stunning specimen. Thankfully, he looked nothing like Pepperdon, which helped to further banish past memories.
Once she looked her fill, Sabrina all but threw herself at him, giving him a fierce embrace as she’d done before. Her breasts, already full and heavy, smashed against his bare chest. He stood absolutely still, but took sharp breaths as she reached behind him and traced the valley of his spine and explored his muscled back. Inhaling his masculine, musky scent, she moaned, completely lost in sensations.
His trousers were next. Not a weapon. He will not hurt me. Repeating the phrases over and over until she gathered her courage, she released Riordan and took two steps in reverse.
As she reached for the waistband, he clasped her hand, halting her. “Wait.”
Sabrina gazed up at him. “I’m ready to do this.”
He gave her a sensual smile. “I am gratified to hear it. Only I should remove my boots and stockings first.”
“Oh. Of course.” She returned his smile with a shy one of her own. Riordan sat on the chair and quickly removed the items. Lord. Even his bare feet were elegant, if feet could be described as such. He jumped up and faced her. “Please, continue.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Please.” The pleading tone in his voice sent sparks along her nerve endings.
“Since you asked politely.” She pulled her hand from his and with rapid efficiency undid the buttons of his fall. Steady on. Without hesitating, she gave his wool trousers a tug until they dropped to the floor. All he wore was his drawers. There was no denying his arousal, as his shaft lay thick and heavy and clearly outlined against him. Curious, she grasped him, and he released a low rumble sounding suspiciously like an animal growl. The heat emanating from his shaft set the palm of her hand on fire.
Oh, she wanted to hear that wild sound again. She squeezed him and ran her hand along his length and was rewarded with another husky groan. His bath was growing cold. Grasping the waistband of the silk drawers, she gave them a yank and they pooled at his feet. Riordan stepped out of them and kicked them aside.
Every nerve ending in her body crackled with awareness. Drinking in his form, Sabrina’s intense gaze scanned him head to toe and back again. How wonderful it must be to be completely confident in one’s own skin. Broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist and lean, muscular hips.
Shamelessly, her gaze slid to the most masculine part of him. He was hard; his shaft stood straight up on his stomach. It was part of Riordan, and because of that she did not fear it. “Shall you climb into the bath so I can…wash you?” Her own voice was hoarse, her own arousal plain to hear.
“All is well, Sabrina?”
Bless him, he looked genuinely concerned. “More than well.”
He sat in the tub, leaning against the back of it. Though the tub was large, he could not stretch out his long legs. Instead, he bent them at the knees. Resting his arms on the sides of the tub, he motioned his head toward the table. “The soap and flannel are there.”
She lifted the soap to her nose and inhaled. Yes. All Riordan. The lime and bergamot scent she adored. Sitting in the chair Riordan had placed next to the tub, she dipped the soap and flannel into the warm water. Already her body thrummed with sensual alertness; if she continued to touch and caress him she would surely combust. Besides a lone oil lamp, the fire cast the only illumination in the parlor, making Riordan’s skin glow with a golden luminescence.
With slow circles, she scrubbed his chest, trailing the lathered cloth across his shoulders and down his arms. Riordan closed his eyes, as if reveling in her touch. Sabrina continued for several moments, enjoying the quiet intimacy they shared. “Lean forward.”
He did, and she continued her journey across his shoulders and down his back. For a schoolmaster who sat at his desk a good portion of his day, he was athletically built. Holding his arm, she trailed along it to the faint ink stains and calluses on the tips of his long and elegant fingers. A hazard of his occupation. He opened his eyes. “Touch me.”
Innately she understood what he meant. Part of his shaft lay exposed above the water line, standing straight up against his flat stomach. Sabrina rolled up her sleeve, reached in the tepid water, and grasped him.
“Jesus. Yes. Tighter,” he pleaded.
She obliged, and gave it a tentative caress, the head disappearing under the hood of skin. A long, ragged groan tore from Riordan’s throat. “Here, allow me to show you.” He laid his hand on top of hers and demonstrated the way he wished for her to stroke him. “It will not take long, I assure you.”
Nodding, she bit her lower lip and gave his shaft short, quick strokes, twisting it as she did. He let go of her hand, his eyes closed, every cord in his neck strained. A deep red flush spread across his chest. He did not remain quiet, he groaned and said, “Yes. Faster. Grip my cock, tighter. More.”
Regardless of the fact that he’d used the same naughty word as her late husband, her insides tumbled with desire. How satisfying to learn she had truly put the past behind her. With his head thrown back, he cried out, the sound ending on a moan that caused her heart to beat at a fast pace. He clasped the top of his shaft, his body shuddering with his release. How magnificent he looked. Fetching the cloth from the water, Riordan took her hand and wiped it clean, then cleaned himself. As he stood, the water sluiced across his muscled body.
He pointed to the towel on the nearby table and she handed it to him. Keeping her gaze on him, Sabrina observed the play of muscles as he dried his body. With the towel wrapped around his waist, he stepped out of the tub. Heavens. Now what?
As if reading her mind, he held out his hand. She took it and stood. Pulling her closer, he smiled at her, his eyes hooded, his expression sultry. “This is just the beginning,” he murmured.
The beginning of what, exactly? How could they share such closeness and part ways in a little more than two months’ time? Perhaps they could make this arrangement permanent. He’d not mentioned it since their wedding day. But it was worth discussing, especially if her feelings continued to deepen and grow. After the cruel, cold men in her life, why not embrace a good, honorable man? One she respected, admired, desired…and loved.
Yes, she loved him. Her heart soared with the knowledge.
* * * *
The next morning, Sabrina woke early, gathered pen, ink, and paper, and made her way to the dining table in the parlor. Riordan was still asleep, sprawled across the chaise longue, his bare chest exposed, blankets pooled around his waist. Was he completely naked beneath? She watched him for several moments, his chest rising and falling as his breath exhaled in short puffs. He looked like a dark angel with his black hair tousled and his fine form on display.
Staring at him, drinking in his beauty, caused her to recall every heated moment of the previous night. For years she’d thought herself dead inside because her late husband did not stir passion in her. Why would he? He was a rapist. A violator of innocence. Sabrina understood that for means of self-preservation she’d buried her emotions deep; Riordan had set them free. For once in her life an actual choice lay before her: leave with Mary once the annulment comes through, or build a life with the schoolmaster.
Sighing, she dipped the pen in the ink. Sabrina had decided to write an anonymous note to the second daughter of the Duke of Carlton, her father’s innocent target. Mary had informed her the young girl’s name was Irene.
With long, cursive strokes she wrote: To Lady Irene, I begin this letter to inform you of the character of Baron Thomas Durning, who I am told is presently courting you. I wish to warn you, my lady, of his true character.
Mittens meowed loudly at her feet. “Oh, precious.” She picked up the kitten and nuzzled it. “You’re hungry.”
“As am I,” a deep voice rumbled from across the room. She turned. Riordan sat on the edge of the chaise wearing nothing but his silk drawers and rubbing his eyes.
“For food, I take it?” she teased.
“I will settle for food.” He winked as he stretched his arms above his head. Such was the closeness between them that he did not cover himself and she was not the least bit offended—quite the opposite. A frisson of awareness shot through her as she stared at his stunning form. “God, is that the time? I’ve slept later than I intended.” He stood and strode to the small cupboard. Opening the door wide, he pulled pieces of clothing from it. As he dressed, he asked, “Whom are you writing?”
Writing? Oh, yes. He had distracted her from her letter. Placing Mittens on the floor, she replied, “I’m writing an anonymous letter to the young lady my father is courting, to advise her of his true character. Of course, I will not sign my name.”
Riordan buttoned his shirt. “Do you think it wise?”
She frowned. “I cannot sit here and do nothing. Subject another innocent young girl to my earlier fate. I could not live with myself if I did not at least warn her.”
Riordan rushed about the room, gathering his frock coat, hat, and muffler. “I agree. I suggest you keep it brief, reveal nothing that will hint at your identity.”
“Good advice. Wait, you must have food.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “There are biscuits and an apple in my desk drawer. Enough to get me through to the noon break. I’ll be home for lunch…and a proper kiss.”
“I can give you a proper kiss now,” she teased. How easily she could tease, when mere weeks ago she did not have the wherewithal to go about it.
“Minx. You do and I will not be in a fit state to teach children.” A loud knock caught his attention. “Must be Mary, I am late. Goodbye.” He trailed a finger down her cheek and gave her such a tender look that her heart skipped a beat. Riordan flung open the front door, said good morning to Mary, and dashed outside.
“Goodness, it’s as if flames licked at his heels,” Mary marveled. “Mr. Black is usually gone before I arrive.”
“Yes, he is running late.”
Mary closed the door and removed her cloak. “You look happy this morning, Sabrina.”
How wonderful that Mary used her name. “I am. It is utterly marvelous to have choices in one’s life. Women have no power at all in this suffocating society; it is gratifying to know I alone will choose the path I wish take.”
Mary folded the blankets from the chaise and placed them in the cupboard. “Things are progressing with Mr. Black?”
Sabrina turned to face her. “Yes. I believe I am in love with him.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “You’re seriously considering keeping this arrangement permanent?”
“Yes…I’m considering it. No matter what I decide, I want you with me. Of course, you may make your own decision. Your life is your own as well, Mary.” She sighed wistfully. “But first, I must discover more about Riordan’s circumstances. He reveals little, and it concerns me.” She crossed her arms. “The quality of his clothes, for example. The fine greatcoat—tailored, to be sure, the way it fits his broad shoulders and tapers in to his slim waist. The top hat is of the finest beaver, not usually worn by those of the lower and working classes. Then there are the shirts and waistcoats with brass buttons, his silk drawers—”
“Silk drawers?” Mary’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Sabrina slapped a hand over her mouth as a giggle escaped it. “Good heavens. You see, I assisted him with his bath last night.”
“That’s a discussion best had over a cup of tea. I’ll make us a pot, along with toast and cheese.” Mary stared over her shoulder. “Writing someone?” Sabrina explained about the recipient and why she was writing it. “Well done. Only, allow me to write it. What if the girl shows your father? He will recognize your handwriting. And we will pay to have it personally delivered, not sent through the post. It will save time and ensure it arrives in her hand.”
“You are clever.” Sabrina smiled.
“Devious, more like. We’d better put off making the apple pie until tomorrow or the next day. Now, for tea.” Mittens rubbed against Mary’s skirts, purring loudly. “And feeding the little beast.”
“What I said, about Riordan being middle class? In the end it does not matter. I would love him even if he was penniless.” If only he was more forthcoming. Yet she hadn’t told him about meeting her father in town. There were secrets between them on both sides. Until they were revealed, how could they have a future?