Anne O'Brien – Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow (страница 37)
She opened her arms at her sides, almost a gesture of submission. Or was it invitation. For if she trusted him to have committed no evil act, she must surely trust him with the safekeeping of her body and her clamouring emotions. It was time that she had the courage to respond to his love making, to claim her own needs. It was more than time. She forced herself to continue to hold his gaze
‘Then come.’ Her voice was soft, full of feminine allure. ‘If you want me tonight I will not deny you, but it is necessary for you to play the role of lady’s maid. You would not imagine the intricacy of buttons and ribbons.’ Then he caught the gleam in her eye and was able to breathe more easily. ‘But perhaps you are intimately acquainted with them. If so, it will on this occasion be to my advantage.’
Sarah’s deliberate humour sliced through the wall of tension between them so that he could step forward with a soft laugh and apply himself to the task. He was, she was forced to admit as she watched his bent head, remarkably skilled. Tiny buttons, delicate ribbons, they posed no problem for his clever fingers. Gown, petticoats, shoes, stockings, all quickly dealt with to give her no room for embarrassment, to be disposed carefully over the daybed. Until she stood in her chemise. He made to blow out the candles, as he thought she would wish, but Sarah had made her decision and now she stretched out a hand.
‘No. Leave one burning.’
‘Are you sure? If you are more comfortable without… ‘
Nerves touched her skin with delicate tremors. ‘No. Leave it. That is what I want tonight.’
So. A new Sarah, he realised. One who had thrown down the gauntlet in public and exerted her will this night. And one, it would appear, intent on continuing to surprise him. So he complied. She would have turned from him to walk to the bed, a chilly little action in itself if of no real moment, but this night he would not allow it. To turn from him, if only for a matter of seconds, was going beyond what he desired for himself, desired for her. He stepped after her and before she could slide between the sheets he took her arm in a gentle hold, drawing her around to face him.
Fingers brushed over her cheekbone and down, to the fine curve of her throat, then to cup the back of her neck beneath her hair. ‘You are a woman of many facets, Sarah. And a woman of outstanding valour tonight. If you will trust me with your reputation, don’t hold yourself back from me now. Let me show you what can exist between a man and a woman, without shyness, without restraint, without self-consciousness. Don’t retreat from me but let me pleasure you,’ he added as her lashes fluttered over her eyes in a moment’s insecurity as she felt the beginning of a deep blush at his seductive words.
The lashes lifted, the gaze now direct and steady, more than he could ever have desired when she had hidden her dreams from him. Sarah lifted her hands to place them flat against his chest and spoke, as he was quick to recognise, from her heart. ‘Very well. Show me the delights that can exist between a man and a woman. For my experience is shallow and my confidence low. So show me. But do not condemn me, I beg of you, if you find me less than skilful.’ And that was as honest as he could ever hope for.
‘Sarah. You still do not realise. I could never find you wanting. All I ask is that you will respond as your heart dictates.’
‘I promise.’
With a swift movement he loosened the chemise to let it drop to the floor, stepping back so that he might see her in the soft candlelight. It lit her slender, graceful figure in warm tones and deep shadow, first gilding her hair to rim her head and shoulders in pure gold, then the flame flickering to highlight curves, deepen shadows, hinting at dark and glorious secrets that slapped at his senses. It was difficult in that moment to remember that she was not a young girl, but a woman who had married and borne a child. Had he ever told her how beautiful she was during the act of love? He should have done so. She needed to be told.
‘You are beautiful, Sarah.’ His body tightened to his discomfort in immediate response. Even more when her lips curved in a smile of quivering nerves. Then, because he sensed her considered denial of his words, he covered the space between them and effectively silenced her by framing her face in his hands and taking her mouth with his own.
‘You are beautiful,’ he repeated against her lips before allowing the hunger to rule and heat the kiss, winding his fingers into the silk of her hair. And Sarah—her reaction was everything he could have hoped for, stretching his command over his response to her to near-snapping point. She moulded her deliciously naked body against his, stretching her arms to clasp around his neck, the sigh of pleasure deep in her throat as she encouraged him to deepen the kiss and allowed his tongue to take possession.
So that necessity soon dictated that he push her away, breathing compromised, but staying only to divest himself of his own clothes before he would tumble her on to the pillows. Sarah watched him with growing anticipation. The glimmer of his white shirt, the dark satin of his evening clothes, all discarded. Until he stood naked before her, back-lit by the moon, which had risen to shine through the windows, outdoing the single candle whose light was now superfluous in the silvered brightness. The shadows were stark, the contours ice-edged. He stood and let her look her fill. Only reacting when she drew in a sharp breath.
‘What is it?’ A sudden concern.
But she shook her head. She would not tell him that he was beautiful, far more beautiful that she. But she raised her hand, palm up, held it out as in an offering, even though entirely shocked by her own behaviour. She felt, she decided, like Scheherazade as he sometimes called her, a seductive nymph of paradise, awaiting her lover in some exotic harem from tales of Arabian Nights. Out of character it most certainly was, but this night she felt she could play any part demanded of her. Had she not played a role all evening before the eyes of those who would spurn and condemn? This role would be no more difficult, and to her ultimate delight and satisfaction.
So Sarah waited for her lord to join her, her heart beating so loudly that she was sure he must hear it, but aware only of his magnificent body. And welcomed him when he pushed her back, slid beside her and took her into his arms.
His habitual tenderness, his consideration for her, were still discernible, must always be so, but this night his control was threatened beneath a fierce blooming of raw passion that took him by surprise. Or perhaps it did not, because Sarah, his reserved and distant Sarah, stoked the flames in his body with terrible, miraculous skill. This was the woman he had dreamed of, this the true Sarah, desire smouldering, hidden under the soft and fragile exterior. This was the lover who touched him with slender fingers, returned his kisses eagerly, along his shoulders, the expanse of his chest. Discovering with sure instinct where his pulses leapt with desire, throbbed in desperate need.
And Sarah trembled at her own temerity. Where had this courage come from?
With deliberate intent at her own urging, her hands drifted over his shoulders and chest, to waist and flat belly. Outlining the powerful flow of muscled thighs. And, with an intake of breath—oh courage! oh glory!—she curled her fingers around his strong erection.
Joshua groaned, turned his face into her hair, his blood engulfed with fire at the unexpected from this reticent lady. His breath shuddered in his lungs as he clung to sanity. Or were the shudders from Sarah? He could no longer separate the two.
‘Shall I stop?’ she whispered against his throat, instantly unsure.
‘No. No.’ He suppressed another groan. ‘I can think of no better way to die.’
‘Are you thinking of death?’ The tremor of a laugh shivered against his flesh.
‘Never death!’
So she stroked with a gurgle of delight and a thrill at his immediate response beneath her hand. But now he carried Sarah with him, for her into unchartered territory. And she joined him, answered every demand, returned every caress. How hot his skin, how demanding his hands and mouth, how incredible that she should feel like this. Then she forgot to think any more, aware only of the ripples of intense sensation that he awoke and stirred into flame everywhere he touched. Aware only of her own need to offer and give, to arch and entwine as he took over every sense in her body. Confidence swam through her veins like the most intoxicating of red wine. Until the heat scorched her, wrecked her breathing, blinded her to everything but this room, this bed, this man.