Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (39 page)

“Your bedside reading, in fact?”

“I own, I did just dip into it earlier.”

“Looking for advice about how to deal with me, sir?” Her tone was scathing.

He grinned. “If you like to put it that way. My remedy if you throw that book is the same as Petruchio’s for a waspish female.” When she frowned, trying to remember the scene, he said, “When Kate strikes him, he threatens to cuff her if she does so again. In some productions, she does. Like Petruchio, ‘I will be master of what is mine own.’”

She remembered the rest of that citation, but although it was comforting to imagine Antony shouting, “Touch her whoever dare,” she remembered his warning about the only times he quoted from works of the Bard. Although she did not think he was angry with her, she did not want to test his threat. Putting down the book, she said, “Why did you laugh at me just now?”

“Not at you, angel, only at your candor. I cannot imagine that many men would appreciate it as much as I do, or tolerate it, for that matter.”

“If it is so intolerable, sir—”

“Not to me. I told you before that I find it refreshing, but it’s a very good thing you did not marry Rockland, I think.”

“Why?”

“Imagine his reaction if you had asked him about his barques of frailty?”

“Good mercy, does he have any?”

“Most healthy unmarried men past a certain age do, but I beg you, don’t ask him.”

She was silent, her emotions warring with her thoughts. An unexpected ache at the back of her throat made it difficult to say, “Must I go back to my room?”

“No.” His voice was gentle, and when she looked at him, she saw tenderness in his eyes. “I’m going to stir up the fire, so if you’d like to get into my bed, I’ll join you as soon as I’ve finished.”

Feeling oddly shy for one who had spent the past quarter hour seducing a man, she looked at the high, broad bed for a long moment before moving slowly toward it with one eye still on her husband. He was not a man accustomed to letting others call the tune for his dancing, and she wondered how much longer he would allow her to do so, if in fact he had allowed it thus far. She had an odd notion that she was the puppet and that Antony still held the strings.

His bed smelled invitingly of the citrus water he used after shaving, and as she slid beneath the covers, she felt both wanton and wary. She knew, in that moment, that the thought of sleeping in his bed had tickled her imagination from the moment of discovering she had married him instead of Rockland.

She watched him stir the fire to life, then glanced at the little clock on the bed-step table. It was past one. She looked back at Antony as he straightened and turned. His robe fell open and when he saw her looking, he shrugged it off, casting it onto the bed. He had a splendid body, but she paid scant heed to the play of muscles in his broad chest and shoulders or his firm, well-shaped thighs and calves. She could not take her eyes from his sex, tumescent and throbbing.

He climbed into bed, bunched pillows behind himself, and slipping one arm behind her, drew her toward him. She trembled but did not resist. Still willing, still curious, she felt nonetheless awed by her temerity. Had it been anyone but Antony—

“Penny for your thoughts.”

She started. “I-I was just thinking I’d never have done this with anyone else.”

“Just as well. Your husband would object.”

“Would you?”

“I most definitely would.”

“Oh.” She snuggled more comfortably against him. “Well, you are not exactly my husband, after all. It is just a role we are playing for a time.”

“A role you seem determined to alter.”

“You said you want me.”

“No use denying plain fact, angel, but there will be consequences. You seem to have assumed that I’ll lie about this to the bishop if I’m asked. I won’t. Moreover, it has occurred to me that there might be a more fundamental reason for your behavior tonight than mere feminine curiosity.”

“What?”

His arm tightened around her. “You lost control today in a big way. We talked about your determination to control your life, your emotions, pretty well everything around you, and in many ways, you’ve been losing that control since the day you met me. First, your parents were killed. You couldn’t prevent that tragedy, or change it. Then along came Alfred and his family, and when Rockland outmaneuvered you, you ended up, through no choice of your own, married to me. Is it possible that tonight’s behavior may be an attempt to regain control over your life? If you can manipulate me, even seduce me, then the power to rule your own life leaps back into your hands.”

“I wouldn’t! I-I couldn’t!” She looked at him, confused and bewildered. “Do you really think that is what I’m doing?”

“I don’t know. It is also possible that after such an emotional upheaval as you experienced today, you are just seeking shelter, and the comfort of friendship.”

A flash of unholy amusement caught her unaware, and her lips twitched. “I don’t think I would ask a mere friend to show me the secrets of the marriage bed, Antony.”

“Perhaps not,” he agreed, his smile warming her to her toes, “but just in case all this stems from more than vulgar curiosity, I propose that we take matters slowly.”

“Can you do that? I thought that when gentlemen were aroused, they had to ease themselves or suffer pain. I saw how aroused you became, you know, and certainly, stallions can become utterly crazed with—”

“Angel, if you don’t stop comparing me to a horse, I swear, I’ll either kick you or bite you.”

She chuckled. “But
can
you go slowly?”

“There are rules,” he said. “For whatever reason, you seem peculiarly vulnerable to seduction right now. Friends don’t take base advantage of such moments, and we are friends. For lovers, the rules are a little different, but we’re not lovers.”

“N-no.” She felt sad, wishing suddenly that she could say she did love him, or pretend he loved her, wishing she knew what love was, and wondering if she would recognize it if she tripped over it. Lady Ophelia had said more than once that one did not fall in love, one stepped into it rather like one stepped into things in a stable yard. Even so, one ought to recognize where one had stepped.

“It’s just as well that we’re not lovers,” he went on calmly, “since my life scarcely lends itself to any permanent arrangement. Still and all, if you find that you are determined to follow through with this experiment, knowing the consequences and accepting them, I expect it’s better to do it now with a man you’re properly wedded to than to do it later with someone altogether unsuitable.”

“I wouldn’t!”

“Curiosity is but lust of the mind, you know, so only time can tell that. Now, however,” he added, forestalling argument, “the first thing you’ll want to learn is how male and female bodies react to being touched. That will help you recognize and fend off particularly knowledgeable but unwelcome suitors. For example, a lady’s arm can be quite sensitive. Here, I’ll show you what I mean.” He shifted himself a little onto one side, facing her, and raised her right hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “A simple gesture,” he said. “No doubt, some chap or other has kissed your hand in greeting.”

“Many times,” she agreed, “but they usually wear gloves, and a gentleman does not actually press his lips down like that. He kisses air, mostly.”

“True,” he murmured. “Still, you feel no particular sensation when my lips touch you there.”

He was wrong. She felt his lips and breath in a most extraordinary way, and she wondered if perhaps she ought to tell him her whole body was tingling just from being so near him, but he turned her hand over and pressed his lips into her palm just then. The tingling turned to fire, making her gasp.

“You see,” he said, his breath hot against her palm, “a woman’s body lends itself to seduction. The inside of the wrist is also rather sensitive,” he added, kissing it lightly, “and the forearm. I will just untie this pretty pink satin ribbon and open your sleeve a bit, if you will permit the liberty.”

She could not seem to breathe, let alone to object as he suited action to words, his lips tracing a path up her forearm toward the inside of her elbow, his hand gently pushing the delicate lawn sleeve higher and higher. When his tongue touched the sensitive skin at the bend of her arm, Charley moaned and leaned back against his supporting arm, arching her back and then gasping again when the movement caused the material of her nightdress to caress the sensitive tips of her breasts.

Antony smiled. “Your body is alive, angel. It leaps to the slightest caress. I wish now to kiss your neck, just here beneath your pretty little ear. A gentle kiss, like the touch of a butterfly’s wing. So. Here, and here.”

The kisses tickled, but the tickle was unlike any she had ever felt before, stirring warmth and other, unfamiliar but delightful, sensations throughout her body.

“Do you like that?”

“Good mercy, don’t stop!”

“I have only just begun.” His fingers trailed lightly around her neck, his lips following until they found the hollow of her throat. Here, she felt his tongue again, warm, like moist velvet, and a strange aching sensation touched her at the fork of her legs. Arching again, she drew a long, shuddering breath.

“Sh-should I be doing something to you?”

“Be still,” he murmured. “This is only the first lesson. Do not be in a hurry to learn everything at once.” His fingers touched the ribbon near the hollow of her throat.

She tensed. “What are you doing?”

“Relax, angel. ’Tis no more than when I bared your arm. The cloth is in my way.” He parted her bodice, trailing kisses over the plump curves of her breasts.

“Are you going to leave that lamp burning?”

“Certainly, I am. It gives me great pleasure to watch you.”

She was breathing faster, shallow breaths. His hand was at the second ribbon tie. There were no more. With that tie undone the gown would open to her thighs. She caught his hand but did not try to move it away.

His hand turned beneath hers, and suddenly his was the captor, hers the captive. When she did not resist, he raised hers gently, pressing it back toward her shoulder, where he caught and held it with his other hand. Her right one was still free, and when he reached for the tie a second time, she grabbed his hand again.

He said, “Tell me to stop, and I will, angel. If you don’t want that, put your hand down. Touch me if you like, but let go of my hand. I am going to open your gown. I want to look at you. I want you to feel my eyes upon your naked flesh.”

Shuddering at the strength of the feelings tearing through her body, she did as he commanded, marveling as waves of pleasure swept over her. Antony parted the gown gently, baring her to her waist. As the cool air caressed her, he bent over her, touching his lips to the space between her breasts, then rising up again to gaze at her, still holding her left hand in his, taking his time.

With his free hand he cupped her right breast, pressing lightly with his fingertips then watching the soft flesh spring back when he eased the pressure. His forefinger moved tantalizingly toward the tip of her breast, but now he was looking into her eyes. When the finger reached the tip, she jumped, and when he caught the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it a little, pinching lightly, she moaned, shutting her eyes to savor the sensations. When his lips replaced his fingers, she cried out and arched her back again, her breathing quickening to sharper, more rapid gasps. The ache between her legs increased, becoming unbearable, demanding comfort.

His hand was on her belly now. His lips moved from right breast to left as the hand stroked her. He still held her left hand at her shoulder, but her right lay between them, unheeded, as she gave herself up to the sensations he ignited throughout her body. His hand slid lower, closer to the ache. Involuntarily she stirred again, her mind and body silently urging his hand lower and lower. As she strained to savor every new sensation, her breathing remained shallow and quick. Her feet and hands felt numb.

His hand touched the hair between her legs, and when his fingers moved, exploring her nether lips, she cried out again, softly. Raising her right hand at last to touch his chest, she discovered something else. “Antony, I can barely feel my hands or feet, and my face tingles. What’s happening?”

Antony paused in his explorations, raising his head to look at her face. Despite golden light from the lamp, it was nearly as white as her gown. When he released the hand he had been holding, she clutched it with the other one, rubbing them together.

“They tingle,” she said, “but my fingers and toes have gone to sleep. What caused it? Does it always happen?”

“No,” he said. He saw that she was breathing rapidly and, though he had rarely met with such a reaction, he thought he knew what had happened. Laying her against the pillows and drawing the two parts of her bodice together, he tied the ribbons, saying, “Take slow, deep breaths, angel, and try to relax. I, have seen this before.”

“Have you, indeed?” She tried to sound virtuously outraged, but he could tell she was still a little frightened.

Lightly he said, “Soldiers waiting for battle to begin sometimes breathe quickly, and their limbs grow numb, too. I don’t know exactly why, but I do know the sensation will pass if you relax and breathe normally. I think our first lesson is over, however.”

“But that is not all there is, surely.”

“There is much more, and if you still want to learn, I will teach you. I don’t think this will happen again, now that you know what to expect.”

“They are waking up already,” she said, grimacing as she rubbed her hands together and moved her legs and feet. “They prickle. Tell me what it feels like to you to do such things to me. Why do you like to watch what you are doing?”

No woman had ever asked him that before, but then he could not remember talking to any of his occasional partners about the act, or having the least desire to do so. Moreover, he was not at all sure Charley really wanted to know what he felt.

He smiled, drawing her closer. He had enjoyed watching her reactions, feeling them, provoking them. He said, “I suppose I feel curiosity at first. When I first met you, I was interested.” The word was inadequate to express what he had really felt. He tried to think of better ones. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I don’t suppose I ever expected to, so there’s an enticing wonder, but you are very much a woman, angel. Tonight, I felt an overpowering curiosity to discover just how much woman I had.”