The Reluctant Reformer (23 page)

“I…” Maggie began in an effort to explain herself as soon as the carriage door shut, enclosing them in darkness and privacy, but James raised a hand to silence her.

“Not
one
word. Not one,” he said in a furious hiss. “Or I might very well take you over my knee and…” His threat ended on a hiss of air.

Maggie stared, fascinated, at the tic of his eye for a moment, then, deciding she might do better to follow his advice, she turned her head to stare out the window. Neither of them said a word the entire ride back to Lady Barlow's. Maggie watched blindly out the window, her body stiff as she did her best to ignore the glare boring into her across the dark space between herself and Lord Ramsey.

When the carriage came to a halt, Maggie focused her eyes to see that they had arrived. She had hardly deduced their location when James thrust the door
open, snatched her hand in his, and bounded out of the coach, hauling her after him. She was barely able to keep her feet as he dragged her to the door, his boots clacking angrily with each step. It was perhaps telling how angry he was that he did not knock or wait for anyone to open the front door of his aunt's town house, but thrust it aside as he had his carriage door. He pulled her inside.

Meeks rushed up as they entered, his eyes widening at the sight of them. He opened his mouth to speak, but James held up his hand as he had done with Maggie and merely sailed into the library with her.

The door slammed behind them as he tugged her across the room toward the fire. Then he paused and glanced around. Maggie wasn't sure what he was looking for, but she'd had just about enough of being lugged around like a horse by its reins. She pulled her hand free, the suddenness of the action probably the only reason she succeeded. James turned on her at once, and Maggie opened her mouth to go on the offensive, but she never managed a word. It seemed James had reached the end of his tether. Grabbing her by the upper arms, he pulled her abruptly against his chest. The action startled Maggie into closing her mouth, which was a darn good thing, since his lips then slammed onto hers with all the finesse of a charging bull. Had her mouth been open, she might have done him injury.

As it was, she winced as the inside of her lips were ground against her teeth in a brutal kiss. Then she began to struggle instinctively against his punishing grasp. James shifted his hold, wrapping one arm around her back, his other hand clasping her head and holding her
in place as the kiss changed, becoming less harsh yet more demanding.

Maggie continued to struggle for a moment, then stopped, a gasp of shock escaping her as the arm around her waist shifted. One of James's hands slapped her bottom lightly through the pants she wore, then gently squeezed even as he urged her against him.

James took immediate advantage of her reaction. His tongue slipped inside her open mouth, but while she wasn't fighting him any longer, she didn't respond at once to his kiss. He pulled away and glared at her.

Maggie stared back, knowing that her confusion and a vague sense of hurt at his treatment were evident on her face. It took a moment before he seemed to see past his anger and notice; then he sighed and leaned his forehead against hers, still holding her tightly.

“I have never been so worried or frightened in my life as I was when I realized you were running about on your own. After those accidents, the fire…I was so afraid I was going to lose you.”

His voice was low and husky. Maggie's eyes widened, her hands relaxing against his chest. The basis of this anger was fear. This was all because he feared losing her! And he had every right to that fear, she realized, recalling the man she'd left unconscious in that awful place. Her heart softening, Maggie slid her arms around James's waist, holding him.

“But you didn't. I am here. I am fine,” she whispered.

His eyes opening, James pulled away enough that he could look at her again. Seeing her understanding expression, he managed a crooked smile. “I never want to feel like that again. Please don't go out again on your
own like that. I will help you if you need to investigate a story. I—”

“Shhh.” Maggie pressed a finger gently to his lips. “I promise never again to investigate a story without at least telling you. It was very foolish of me to go to meet Maisey alone. I should have known better after all that's happened, but I thought that I would be fine if I went in disguise. I was wrong,” she added quickly when he would have interrupted. “I see that. And I am sorry I worried you. It will not happen again.”

He remained speechless for a moment, staring into her face; then she felt the hand on her derriere move curiously against her bottom. A small smile crossed his lips. “You look rather delectable in men's clothing.”

Maggie felt a blush rise from her chest to cover her throat and face, but she remained still in his arms, unresisting when he used the hand on her bottom to urge her lower body tighter against his. She could feel him growing hard against her. His gaze sought hers, and she met it unflinchingly; then his eyes dropped to her lips. She held her breath, letting it out on a disappointed sigh as his gaze traveled up over her face to her hair.

Smiling more devilishly, he reached behind her head and pulled her ponytail out of the back of her shirt, then removed the bit of ribbon she had used to tie it. The pale strands fell free, tumbling around her face and over her shoulders. Maggie remained still as he brushed his fingers through the tousled mane, smoothing it; then he caught her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her lips.

The kiss started out gentle, James's lips soothing any hurt he might have caused with his earlier brutality, but it did not stay gentle for long. The moment Maggie
opened her lips beneath his, kissing him back with innocent fervor, something seemed to ignite within them both. The embrace became consuming, his hands sliding away from her cheeks and beginning to explore her body, moving over the men's clothes she wore with curiosity and determination. One moment they were traveling over her breasts, through the shirt and binding that covered them; then his hands had slid back to her bottom, squeezing and lifting her against him so that his swollen arousal rubbed between her thighs.

Gasping, Maggie threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself tighter against him—eagerly, as he was pressing into her. He groaned into her mouth, then began to back her up until she felt the hard edge of Lady Barlow's desk pressing into her behind. Lifting her, gripping her buttocks, he sat her on the desk, then urged her legs apart so that he could step between them. He was still kissing her, his lips and tongue doing things that left her quivering and moaning into his mouth even as she kissed him in return. His hands were busy between them, working at her clothing.

She felt the cravat fall loose, then slide across the back of her neck as he drew it off her, but she hardly paid any attention, easing back slightly at his insistence, uncaring of the inappropriate nature of what he was doing as his hands moved over the front of her clothing. She hardly noticed when he pushed her waistcoat off her shoulders, or when her vest followed—except for a touch of impatience as her arms were briefly forced away from him. All she felt as the cloth slid off her to drop to the floor was relief that she could hold him again. She raised her hands at once to slide her fingers
through his silky hair, thrusting her tongue out experimentally to tangle with his.

His fingers slid over her bound breasts, then dropped to tug at her linen shirt. She murmured encouraging sounds into his mouth as he freed her shirt and slid his fingers underneath running them lightly over the quivering muscles of her stomach, then the material she had used to bind her breasts.

Her arms tightened instinctively around him in protest when he suddenly broke away, but when his lips traveled down her throat she sighed gloriously and tipped her head back in delight. He nibbled and suckled at her flesh. She noticed nothing as he found where she had fastened her bindings, undid them, then began to unravel them, drawing the wrap around and around under her loose linen shirt, easing her discomfort with every go.

She moaned her relief into his mouth as the last of the bindings fell away, freeing her tender breasts from their bondage. She almost reached down to rub herself soothingly, but James took care of that, his hands cupping her gently and caressing the irritation away. Her discomfort was quickly replaced by a different feeling entirely. Within moments, Maggie was pressing into his hands, encouraging him to a less soothing touch.

James smiled against her lips, then pulled back and tugged her shirt quickly upward. Maggie felt herself blush as her breasts were entirely bared to him; then he pulled her forward until his lips closed around one erect nipple. She cried out, her modesty forgotten as he suckled and laved the sensitive tip.

Groaning in pleasure, Maggie pushed into the caress, her hands catching in James's hair, enjoying the soft
textures as she pressed him closer. When she felt his hand slide down to cup her between the legs, she opened eyes she hadn't realized she'd closed.

Peering down at the cloth of her shirt, which he had let drop over his head to free his hands, she touched his hair through the linen with one trembling hand, then moaned in disappointment when he ducked out from beneath the material. His eyes met hers briefly; then he tugged her top away, attempting to lift it over her head and remove it entirely. The back of the shirt, though, was caught under her bottom where she sat on the desk.

James didn't hesitate; giving up his tugging, he reached for the collar and rent the shirt from collar to hem. Maggie gasped in shock as the garment came open; then she reached out to clasp him by the back of the neck and tug him forward to claim his lips with hers.

She kissed him in just as demanding and hungry a fashion as he usually kissed her, arching her back to thrust her breasts eagerly forward as his hands closed over them. It was madness, and it was delicious, and she ached to feel more of him. Releasing his neck, she felt her way to the front of his cravat, undoing and removing it with an ease that she could not duplicate with the buttons of his waistcoat. Much to her combined relief and disappointment, James's hands slid away from her breasts and moved to help, undoing and shedding first the waistcoat, then his vest with expedience.

Maggie didn't bother freeing his shirt from his breeches; reaching for the collar, she bit at his lower lip, holding him when he broke the kiss and tried to draw away. She slid her hands into the collar, pulling at the material. The garment did not rend as easily as her own, its material resisting, but with a little more force she
heard the tear and felt the cloth give, splitting to James's waist. She promptly splayed her hands on his chest, her fingers spreading over his naked skin and nipples. Then she slid her hands around his waist and pressed forward to rub against him, shivering as the hair on his chest brushed her breasts.

He let her play that way briefly, then took over again, his lips mastering her as he urged her body forward slightly on the desk. As his hand slid down to press between her legs, Maggie felt the breath catch in her throat, her body freeze briefly with the shock of the sensations shooting through her. Liquid pooled in her lower abdomen; then James pulled away enough for his hands to work at her breeches.

It wasn't until the front flap of her breeches was undone and falling open, allowing air to brush against the skin of her stomach, that Maggie felt the first stirrings of the impropriety of all of this. His hand slid inside her breeches so swiftly, though, she couldn't catch his wrist in time to stop him. Then, as it brushed against her swollen flesh she wasn't sure she wanted him to stop.

“Oh,” she moaned when he removed his hand from between her thighs. It was over, and, shameful as it was to admit, she didn't want it to be. Still she stood resignedly when he urged her to her feet.

Her eyes opened wide as James suddenly knelt before her, his hands catching the waist of her breeches and drawing them down. Maggie gave a strangled cry of embarrassment and instinctively tried to cover herself. James ignored this show of modesty, urging her to lift one leg, then the other so that he could remove the breeches from her legs entirely.

She expected him to stand again then, but he had other ideas. Pushing the trousers away, he glanced up at her with a devilish grin, then caught her by the ankles and tugged them swiftly apart—much as he had that day in his library when he'd dumped her in his chair. There was no chair this time, however, and Maggie was forced to stop trying to cover herself and grab the desk behind her for balance. Her alarm quickly turned to surprise, then trembling anticipation, as James's hands glided up the skin of her legs, tickling and tingling over the flesh of her calves, the backs of her knees, then up to her thighs, where they tightened and tugged, urging her lower body forward.

He pressed a kiss to her lower belly, leaned his forehead there and rubbed it once gently back and forth, then pressed a kiss to the hollow of her hip. Next came the top of her leg, as his hands slid to the inside of her thighs. The first brush of his fingers against her femininity made her buck like a wild horse; her body was assaulted by the same sharp sensations that had overwhelmed her in James's library. She'd forgotten how violent a reaction her body had to his touch. She remembered it quite clearly now.
This
was what had haunted her dreams.
This
had left her trembling and wanting in the mornings when she woke. This was…

“Oh, God.” She gasped, closing her eyes tightly, her hands catching in James's hair. Her legs tried to close against the sensations he stirred as he probed the center of her excitement.

Apparently expecting that reaction, James caught her thighs. Instead of letting them close, he urged them farther apart. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Maggie leaned back, her thighs spread wide now of their
own volition. Remembered anticipation flooded her as his head ducked between her legs.