Absolute Pleasure (18 page)

He deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking and mingling with hers, and he suffered the strangest impression that he'd come home, that after all his wandering, he'd ended up where he was truly supposed to be.

"God, it's been so long," she mumbled, almost to herself, as he cradled her breast in his hand.

"For me, too." He was glad that there'd been no one else before her for such a lengthy period.

The rain outside started to pour down in earnest, pinging on the roof, and he cuddled her nearer, reveling in sensation. She was a hot-blooded woman, proficient and torrid in her actions and movements. Her fingers explored as avidly as his own, across his chest, his stomach, and lower, to where she unabashedly manipulated his cock through the fabric of his pants.

Craving bare skin, he unfastened the top of her gown so that he could slip inside to pinch and squeeze her nipple. Initially, she succumbed to the manual stimulation, welcoming the interplay of tension and stress, and she continued to acquiesce as he migrated to the other breast, as he gave the nipple the same explicit attention.

But as he began to remove her dress, as he pushed it off her shoulders so that he could suckle against her, he met with resistance.

With a moan of desperation, she wrenched away. "I can't," she asserted. "I can't go any further."

"Mary ... I need you."

"I know you do, but I just can't."

"At least let me see you; don't deny me such a stunning gift."

Before she could stop him, he shoved her bodice that final inch, displaying a pert nipple, and he bent down and took it into his mouth. Her hiss of pleasure was his reward, and he went to work with teeth and tongue, as she strained against him and goaded him on.

With such precious coaxing, he couldn't prevent himself from investigating under her skirt, roaming up to the moist, mysterious haven between her legs. He hastened through the springy cushion of hair and, with no finesse or hesitation, delved inside her lush pussy.

Her level of titillation was patently evident; she was wet, her bodily juices flowing, and she flexed for him as he flicked across her clit, discovering it to be enlarged and ready. Greedily, he latched on to her nipple, and with his naughty thumb, he effortlessly tossed her over the edge into a shattering orgasm.

She bucked and thrashed, and he clutched her to him, treasuring how she battered his abused phallus. He rode the tempest with her, until the savage episode gradually abated, men she stomped against him and burst into tears.

He melted. It had been a long while since he'd consoled an anguished woman, and he didn't really care why she was so upset, for he'd crashed through her wall of reserve, her defenses were destroyed, and he was holding her while she wept.

With love words and soothing hands, he comforted her.

Eventually, she quieted, and with tranquility came the embarrassment he'd anticipated. She was a proud woman, and not one who freely yielded to visible scenes, and he was ecstatic that she trusted him enough to lower her guard.

"Feeling better?" he asked, somewhat arrogantly. How he adored that he'd reduced her to quivering jelly! He'd been out of practice, and it was gratifying to ascertain that he hadn't lost his touch!

"Yes, but don't act so damned pleased! I can't believe I let you do this to me."

"Hush, now. It was wonderful, and I won't hear any complaint."

"But you must think I'm a ninny. Or a whore." More tears gushed out. "Or both!"

"Mary"—he kissed the tip of her nose as if she was a young child—"I think no such thing!"

"You overwhelm my better sense!"

As she scolded him, she tugged her bodice into place, concealing her splendid breasts, and he sighed with disappointment as she fumbled over the fastenings on her dress. Her fingers were unsteady, and she couldn't match button to hole.

He shoved her hands away and assumed the task, but he couldn't resist a final nuzzle into her cleavage. The move reignited the fire in his loins, and he flexed, reminding them both that only one of them had been fulfilled.

"You're still aroused."

Staring down at the atrocious ridge in his pants, she gaped as if she couldn't fathom how he'd attained such an untenable condition, then she drove the heel of her palm across the engorged apex, and he gritted his teeth in unrelieved agony.

He couldn't help wishing she'd undo his trousers, that she'd take him in hand or mouth, but he perceived that she'd gone as far as she could for one day. Besides, if he had his way—and he definitely intended to—there'd be
plenty of occasions in the future to extensively spill himself in her charming presence.

"I'm so attracted to you," he said, smiling sinfully. "You make me so hard."

"But I can't satisfy you," she lamented. "I can't make you come! Oh, I can't do anything right anymore."

The odd confession induced a new wave of weeping, and he nestled her against his chest, permitting her to fret for a bit, then he cajoled, "Tell me all about it."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Isn't there?" He lifted her so that she had to look at him. "Is it Findley?"

The simple question spoke volumes as to the hidden secrets to which he'd been privy. Years earlier, Pamela Harcourt had professed her discovery of the liaison, and John suspected the relationship might be enduring, that Mary was miserable because of it.

His interrogatory brought a fresh surge of tears and, ashamed, she bowed her head and swiped at them. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't keep on as I have been."

"Are you in love with him?" John braced, not sure what he'd do if she said yes.

"I thought I was once"—she chuckled bitterly—"but it's recently occurred to me that I might have been mistaken."

He chuckled, too. "By any chance did your revelation materialize about the time he remarried—to a sixteen-year-old girl who is young enough to be his granddaughter?"

"The bastard!" Shocking herself with her vehemence, she blushed. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize for loathing Findley Harcourt I've perpetually considered him a bastard, myself."

The disclosure mellowed her, and with the topic out in the open, it wasn't so painful. "I've always understood his duties and responsibilities," she said, "and I've clearly comprehended my place in his life, too—or at least I thought I did—but the night he crawled into my bed and bragged about how he was marrying again, he's extremely lucky I wasn't holding a pistol."

"He announced his engagement while you were in bed together?"

"Yes! Can you imagine?"

"The man's an ass!" He laughed, elated when she laughed, as well.

"I tossed him out, and I never let him back."

"That's my girl." He patted her on the rump, even as he was calculating how long it had been since they'd been lovers. Six months? A year? "So your affair with him is over?'

"Aye, but he wishes it wasn't."

"Why?"

"I made things so convenient for him."

"Then I take it all is not well with his wife?"

"They have their problems." Acridly, she grumbled, "I don't know how he could have expected any result but adversity. The girl's a pain in the rear."

"How is she to you?"

"She's horrid. She almost slapped me once."

"You're joking!"

"Unfortunately, I'm not."

"What did Findley do?"

"Elizabeth and I agreed not to inform him."

He groaned in disgust "Mary—"

"I'm more cautious now. I stay out of her way, and Elizabeth helps."

"You're not safe there. You must leave."

"But I don't have anywhere to go. I've worked for the Harcourts since I was a girl, and
Y
m not even sure how to find another job. Especially one that would correspond with my abilities. I can't picture myself starting out elsewhere as a scullery maid."

"No, no. That would be terrible for you. And beneath your qualifications." His mind was whirling, searching for viable alternatives. "Would Findley pension you off?"

She snorted disdainfully. "He's too proud. I could resign, but he'd refuse to allow it. If I insisted, he might throw me out in the street with just the clothes on my back!"

"Would he really?"

"He's capable of all sorts of unscrupulous conduct."

"Yes, I know.” He recalled how Findley had treated Pamela. In his more turbulent days, John had pummeled Findley as punishment.

Not wanting to dwell on Findley, or their old feud, he hugged Mary instead, and ruminated on her plight, when he recognized that he had the ideal solution.

"Why don't you come and work for us? We need an experienced housekeeper, and we could use a woman's touch around the house."

She stiffened, then pulled away. "John, shame on you."

"What?" he queried, puzzled. "What did I say?"

In a huff, she moved to the opposite seat. "I've been the housekeeper for one nobleman, and look where it landed me."

"I'd never mistreat you!"

"Mistreatment can take many forms." When he would have argued, she held up a hand. "You're already planning where to situate my bedchamber so that you can sneak up the back stairs at night."

He shifted uneasily, for that's exactly what he'd been thinking! Drat her for being so astute! Defensively, he asked, "Do you have such scant respect for me?"

"Your kind has a separate standard for behavior."

"My
kind!
What's that mean?"

"It
means
that I know much more about you than you realize; much more than I wish I did." She frowned at him, making him marvel as to how they could have made such sweet love only minutes earlier. "I remember when you used to visit Pamela at Norwich. Flirting with her, playing on her insecurities and woes. When you were rampaging in London, gambling and womanizing, I heard the stories."

"And you believed them, of course." Though most of them were true, he'd wearied of defending himself some thirty years later!

"It's not so much that I believed them. It's that I know of your rank, of your family."

"So? I have no contact with any of them. I haven't had for decades."

"Yes, but even though you're estranged, it doesn't change who you are. Deep down, you remain the fourth son of an earl."

Since her observation was accurate, he could hardly argue, so he countered with, "But what does my status have to do with us?"

"Everything." She stared at him as if he was a dolt. "I deserved better than Findley Harcourt And I deserve better than you. If I ally myself with any man ever again, it will be in order to obtain a husband, a home of my own, and the respect that goes with them." She paused, shrewdly dissecting him. "You'd never stoop so low as to offer me that type of security, would you?"

Under her obtrusive scrutiny, he twitched and chafed. Her words were a blatant challenge, a dare he couldn't meet. He would have loved to wed her, to grow old with her by his side, and a proposal was poised on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't force it out.

She certainly has my number, doesn't she?

What a despicable coward he was! What a snob! A stuffed shirt! He couldn't budge beyond the societal restrictions that had formed the bedrock of his beliefs, that had shaped his vision of the world.

A man in his position never wed a woman in hers. She was available as a mistress, but never as a wife. She could never be more to him than she'd been to Findley. How humiliating to be lumped together with such a detestable fellow!

"When will I see you again?" He already felt her loss and was astonished by how arduous it seemed.

"You won't. Our paths need not cross."

He clasped her hands in his. "I'm not willing to have it conclude like this. Before it's had a chance to commence. Are you?"

"What conceivable purpose could there be to our meeting? So that we can roll around in a parked carriage like a pair of lusty adolescents?" Contemptuously, she shook her head. "No, I want more. I've earned a different future."

"But... but... don't you want us to be lovers?" Disconcertingly, he was begging, but he couldn't desist.

"No, I don't."

"But it was so extraordinary!"

'Temporary madness on my part, I assure you. It will pass." Brazenly, she reached between his legs to condescendingly pat the enlarged phallus that bulged his trousers. Disgracefully, it leapt in response. "You're aroused, so you're confusing your excited physical state with elevated affection. After I depart, you'll forget about me. As it is, I'm sure there are any number of serving girls in your household who would be willing to intimately oblige you."

He fumed at the insult but didn't respond to it. What had he done to give her such a low opinion of his character? Why would she discount their connection? How could she spurn him so casually?

"You're mistaken about us, about how it could be," he entreated inanely.

"Just go away, John. Elizabeth will return shortly, and I don't want to have to explain what you're doing here."