Seduced (12 page)

He placed a hand on her thigh and she gasped at the intimate contact. He examined her face as he massaged the sensitive flesh there. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her cheeks red, her mouth trembling.

Her husband had been dead eighteen months, he knew. Likely it had been that long or even a little longer since a man touched her. He'd have to remember that, be careful, be tender with her, even though his instinct was to rip those drawers in half and bury himself in her as deep as he could go.

Instead, he parted the opening on her underthings and took a sharp breath as her sex was revealed. She pushed against his hand, trying to close her legs, and he let his stare return to her face.

“Don’t hide, Letitia,” he whispered. “There is nothing to be ashamed of here.”

She swallowed hard, her lips opening and shutting like she was struggling for breath. Her face was pink, her hands fisted on the settee and trembling. Hadn’t her husband done this?

Well, perhaps he hadn’t. After all, many “gentlemen” saved real pleasure for their mistresses.

“I want to touch you,” he murmured, testing her gently. “Did your husband ever touch you here?”

He let just his fingertip slide over the sensitive outer lips of her quim and she sucked in a hard breath.

“No,” she admitted.

He pursed his lips. “What a waste,” he muttered as he cupped her gently, letting her acclimate to the feel of his palm against her warm, sensitive flesh.

She let out a little cry in response, and he smiled. Oh, this was going to be fun. Letitia might not have much experience in the realm of passion, but she had raw, natural talent in that area. He was going to show her what pleasure could be.

He stroked one finger along her slit gently, feeling the heat, the wetness that was already there just from their kisses, just from these few touches. She tightened her legs, but he didn’t withdraw, just kept stroking her, stroking her until she became acclimated and her legs relaxed. Only then did he push a little further, nudging his fingertip past the lips and against the slick entrance to her body.

She bucked slightly, biting her lip hard enough that it turned white, and he stopped.

“Relax, Letitia,” he murmured. “It will be like having a cock in you, but gentler. I just want you to be ready.”

She nodded, but it was a jerky movement. She looked nervous as well as eager for his touch. He pressed forward, breeching her at last, feeling her inner walls tighten exquisitely around his finger. He kept the tip of his finger at her entrance and added a thumb to her clitoris.

Once again, a whimper escaped her lips, but this time there was more pleasure to the sound than nervousness or fear. He flicked the little bud gently, pressing against it in a building rhythm, watching as her breath grew short and her breasts lifted. The next time they did this—and he already knew there would be a next time—he was going to take her dress off and see those spectacular breasts.

But for now, he couldn’t wait. She was on the edge of coming already and he wanted to feel that explosion of sensation around his cock. He continued to play with her clitoris, keeping her right at the edge, while with his other hand he unfastened the flap on his trousers and let his hard, ready cock bounce free.

She glanced down at him, her eyes widening as she saw his naked flesh. He grinned at her, then positioned himself over her. He withdrew his fingers and then pressed the head of his cock in their place.

“Oh, Letitia, I promise you that I am going to give you such pleasure,” he vowed.

Her body was unbelievably tight as he thrust forward. He looked down at her, expecting her expression to be one of pleasure as he took her, but instead her mouth was twisted with pain, her eyes filled with tears.

He stopped at once, halfway into her sheath, and stared.

“Letitia,” he whispered. “Am I hurting you?”

“Of course not,” she murmured, but the sound was a sob. “Please don’t stop.”

“I will stop,” he said, beginning to withdraw. “Letitia, is there something wrong, something I can—”

He broke off as he pulled out of her body fully and looked down at himself. His cock had a smear of blood on it. Virgin’s blood. It was the only explanation for the pain she had experienced, the tightness of her body, her seemingly confused and embarrassed reaction to his touch.

Letitia had been a virgin.

“Jack,” she whispered, the tears flowing freely now. “Please.”

He jerked his gaze back to her crumpled face as he tugged his trousers up and said, “Virgin’s blood, Letitia?”

She gasped, tears flowing down her face, but she refused to answer. Not that he needed it. He knew for certain now.

“You were married,” he said, the statement blank and confused as he tried to process what was happening.

Her silence remained as she covered her face. He touched her hand, trying to be gentle even as his mind spun. Slowly, he lowered her hand, revealing her face. She finally met his stare.

“Letitia, tell me how it is that you are a widow
and
a virgin,” he said, his tone firm. “Tell me now.”

Letty tried to compose herself, but it was a losing battle. Coming here, experiencing Jack’s touch, having her secret revealed? It was all too much. She felt like she was unraveling, and it took every bit of strength she had in her to focus on her breath, to keep herself here with Jack rather than allow her mind to take off to other painful places.

“Breathe,” he encouraged her, smoothing her skirts back down over her body. He tugged her to a seated position gently and stroked a remarkably soothing hand over her tangled hair. “Breathe first.”

She did as he said, calming herself. After a few moments, she felt better and smiled weakly at him.

“I hoped I could hide the truth,” she whispered. “Not
believed
, but hoped.”

He cupped her cheeks. “Explain this.”

She met his gaze. His eyes were such dark, seductive depths. She could get lost there. She could be found there. She knew that. She
wanted
to do exactly as he said, and confess everything she’d so long kept inside.

But she needed one last thing before she could finally say the words that had choked her for years.

“I have been told that once a promise of secrecy is exacted from you, you will never betray it,” she said, her voice shaking even when she tried to be strong. “Is that true?”

He drew back a little. “I—what?”

“What you are asking me to tell you is the biggest secret of my life,” she explained. “And it could be used not only against me, but against others for whom I care deeply. So I must have you vow to me, on your life, on your honor, that you will never repeat what I say to you.
That
is the only way I can tell you the truth you seek.”

“On my honor,” he repeated softly. “Do you think I have any?”

“I-I’ve been told you do.”

“You believe others?” he asked, arching a brow.

She shook her head. “Even if I didn’t, I believe my own eyes. You could have easily taken me without giving a damn if it hurt. You could have mocked me rather than treat me with kindness. That is honor, Jack. So will you promise me?”

He held her stare for what felt like forever. Then he nodded. “On my life, on whatever small honor I possess, I shall keep your secret, Lady Seagate. I will take it to my grave.”

Relief rushed through her, more powerful and unexpected than she had thought it would be. It made sense, she supposed. After all, Aaron aside, she’d never had a soul to share her pain with. Even Aaron’s ability to hear her was compromised by his own feelings about Noah.

But now she would get to spill her soul to someone not part of her pathetic circumstances. Someone who would be there for her and her alone.

Of course, Jack might just as easily recoil when he knew her story. Or laugh at her past. But she was going to take that risk.

She was going to be brave, at last, to get what she wanted. Needed.

“I was a wallflower,” she began. “I’m sure that isn’t a shock.”

“It is, actually,” Jack said with a shake of his head. “It makes me question the taste of London fops even more than I ever have.”

She blushed at the compliment. “There are many women of rank far more beautiful than I, Jack. No one can say that isn’t true. In addition, my dowry was only moderate and my father was not titled, though he is a gentleman. And I was…quiet. Shy. I couldn’t compete against ladies who seemed to be born to flirt. I would have rather talked about books or even politics. It didn’t make me popular.”

Jack folded his arms. “My statements about the foolish tastes of London nobility stand, my lady, but continue. Somehow you came down off the wall and managed to land a rather massive catch.”

She drew back, narrowing her eyes. “How do you know that about Noah?”

He shrugged. “You think I didn’t look into your background the very same night you came stalking across the ballroom to confront me about your brother? Who couldn’t be fascinated by such a brave, strong-willed lady?”

“Brave, strong-willed?” she repeated. “You will change your mind once you hear the truth.”

“Let me decide that,” he said softly.

She sighed. “I was nineteen when I met Noah. He was a viscount, eight years my senior, such a worldly man, and very handsome. Yes, he was considered a great catch in my world. He didn’t pursue me, though. He became my friend.” Her voice caught. “A dear and true friend, indeed. He danced with me, he talked to me about my interests, he even tried to introduce me to men he thought would be a good match. All for naught, of course, but I appreciated the effort.”

“So he looked at you as a friend, which makes me question if he needed spectacles. What did
you
think of him?”

“I was infatuated,” she admitted. “How could I not be when he was so handsome, so attentive? I prayed he might one day want me. And eventually our friendship did blossom into something more. After about a year of our friendship, Noah asked my father for a formal courtship, and a few days after my twenty-first birthday, he asked for my hand in marriage.”

Jack nodded. “You must have been happy.”

“Very.” She smiled as she thought of those halcyon days. She had been so content, so blind to what would come. At that thought, the smile fell. “We married quickly and…” She struggled a moment, trying to find the words to explain the rest. Her throat felt like it was closing, and she pushed to her feet, stepping away from Jack’s intent gaze.

He was quiet for a moment as she composed herself, and then said, “Obviously your wedding night was not as your mother had described.”

“No,” she said with a humorless laugh. “It wasn’t that Mama had explained that there would be any great passion, but she had told me about the mechanics of my deflowering. I went to our bed, I put on the pretty nightgown I’d been given as part of my trousseau, I waited…and…and Noah said he was tired. That his head ached. He begged off his duty, promising he would try the next day.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open and he stared at her in disbelief. “He looked at you, ready for him, and said he was
tired
?”

“It had been a busy few weeks,” she said weakly, repeating the excuse she had given to herself so many times when she thought of that night.

“I could have been dragged through mud by wild horses for twelve hours, Letitia, and I
still
would have exercised my husbandly rights with you,” Jack said evenly, his gaze holding hers.

She swallowed at the passion he implied. It felt so foreign after her prior experiences. So attractive and yet so frightening.

“He held me,” she offered softly. “He was tender and sweet to me that night. But the next day came and still he didn’t claim me. Nor did he the next, nor the next.”

“How long did this go on?” Jack asked.

“A few weeks.”
He
r cheeks grew hot. “He was loving and attentive, but the moment night fell, he found reasons not to come to me or to beg off a joining in lieu of simply holding me.”

“You felt rejected,” Jack said, his tone a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” she admitted out loud for the first time. “Unwanted. I couldn’t sleep, I hardly ate, but who could I talk to? How could I admit to my mother or my cousins or my friends that my husband refused to claim me physically? I was left to my own devices and my mind spun terrible stories.”

“Like what?”

She shuddered. “After a while, I became convinced that he
must
have a mistress. I knew from whisperings of the married women that some men loved women they couldn’t marry due to circumstances. I wondered if that was the case with Noah. I wondered if he feared betraying her for me. Oh, in my head she was so beautiful and sophisticated and nothing like me.”

Jack moved closer. “Quite the tale. You were driving yourself mad.”

She nodded. “Yes, I felt mad when I considered it. And I knew I was out of control. So one day I made a decision. I would follow him when next he made an excuse to go out. I wanted to determine, once and for all, what was driving this wedge between us.”

“That was daring of you,” Jack said. “Not that I would expect otherwise.”