Almost Perfect (18 page)

Of course she loved him. She’d never stopped loving him. Seduced by Lucien’s sweet lies, she relaxed into their pretense of a marriage and happily cradled his body atop hers.

His thighs were between hers. Her breasts flattened gloriously against the powerful expanse of his chest. She could feel the strength of his arms against her, even if his grip was gentle as he held her hands. His kiss told her how desperately he needed her.

Lifting her hips, she took his shaft into her. He gasped in quiet surprise then thrust more deeply into her. The first hints of the joy Cassie had learned to cherish between husband and wife rippled over her.

Three years was a long time between joys. Wanting the sensations she knew he could make in her, she arched against him, trying to goad him into faster motion. Instead, his next thrust was slow and deliberate. Despite that, another ripple of pleasure hit her. Cassie gasped in surprise. That had never before happened.

She tugged on her trapped hands, needing to touch him. At the same time she tried to lift her legs, knowing her calves atop his thighs could make her pleasure even better. Pain sliced through her as she bent her knee. She gasped and stiffened in reaction.

He instantly stopped moving and raised himself on his forearms. “I’ve hurt you,” he said, his deep voice thick with need. He released her hands.

“No, I’ve hurt me.” She waited for him to move within her again. When he didn’t she caught his face in her hands and lifted her head to press her mouth to his.

“Don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop,” she pleaded against his lips.

With a laughing groan, Lucien took her mouth with his then began to move in earnest. Cassie clasped her arms around him and let him carry her into that gentle rush of joy. It came, leaving her panting and crying out, but he still moved within her.

New pressure woke within her, stunning in its intensity and promising a depth of joy she hadn’t imagined possible. That pressure demanded she move. Greedy for what it promised Cassie cried out against his mouth, then clutched his arms and thrust up against him, driving him deeply within her.

He gasped, his movements quickened. His breathing grew ragged. That pressure in Cassie grew beyond all toleration. She writhed beneath him, hurting her knee and not caring that she did. All that mattered was the wave after wave of joy crashed over her.

Shouting, Lucien rose above her and drove into her one last time. She swore she felt his seed enter her. Her world shattered in a wondrous explosion of pleasure.

Panting, Lucien came to rest atop her then rolled to the side, taking her with him as he went. Breathless and cradled in his embrace, Cassie laid her head against his shoulder. Her eyes closed. At peace, feeling loved, cherished and protected, she let herself drift.

Lucien cradled Cassie close as she dropped back into her dreams. Stunned by what had just happened between them, he watched the sky through the window. Maggie hadn’t closed the drapes when she’d come to retrieve Cassie’s dinner tray. Every so often the scudding clouds would part to show him a fecund moon.

God help him, but the earth had again moved. Not moved, exploded. Closing his eyes, he bent his head against Cassie’s and pulled her closer still.

She sighed in her sleep, her hand slipping off his arm to nestle between them. Despite the depths of his satisfaction, the feeling of her body against his stirred Lucien’s desires anew. How could one woman be so different from all the others he’d bedded?

Lucien breathed out in disappointment. She couldn’t be. It was that ridiculous game of theirs.

From the moment she agreed to play cards for a kiss everything had changed. He’d never felt so alive. When their game ended, as it surely must, so would his attraction to her.

Would it? The memory of what it had cost him to part from Cassie six years ago filled him. It had hurt to leave her then when all he’d known of her was the pleasure of her presence. What would it be like to part from her now that he knew the pleasure of her presence in his bed?

He ought to take that as a warning. He ought to leave her now, riding hell-bent back to Ryecroft Castle and Devanney. In the morning Jamie could take Cassie back to Philana Forster’s home.

Instead, Lucien pulled the bedclothes around them then reached up to rearrange the pillows. Cassie made a quiet sound and rolled over, turning her back to him. He fit his body against hers and closed his eyes. For as long as Cassie had amnesia he would remain her husband.

Morning was streaming through the window unhindered by the sheerest of draperies when Cassie awoke, the sun spilling a diamond-shaped pattern of light onto the worn floorboards. The brilliant blue sky outside the glass was marred with only a few towering white clouds. A beautiful dawn, at least for the moment.

Inside the room the air was warm. Someone had stoked the fire; flames leapt and danced on the hearth. Behind her Cassie felt Lucien’s weight and warmth. The regular sound of his breathing said he slept.

She smiled, surprised at how pleased she was that he hadn’t retreated to his own chamber. This was especially so since she remained unclothed. If sleeping unclothed was a novel experience for her, sleeping unclothed with a man who wasn’t her husband, despite this little game they played, was beyond belief and more than a little wicked. What startled her most was that she could feel so comfortable nude in Lucien’s presence.

She rolled over to face him. Her knee twinged, but not nearly as badly as it had last night. He had his back to her. The bedclothes were pushed to his waist.

Cassie’s smile widened as she eyed the breadth of his bare back. The need to touch him filled her. She hesitated, stopped by her inner monitor’s warning. Touching him wasn’t appropriate.

She gave a tiny snort of disbelief. There was no societal mandate to cover this situation. Certainly pretending to be a nobleman’s wife while behaving as his mistress had never been a subject of any of her mother’s many lectures on manners and feminine behavior. And after last night’s lovemaking, Cassie’s shattering pleasure and Lucien’s shouts it really was too late to retreat to the role of demure widow.

Putting her hand on the head of his arm she measured the breadth of his shoulder with her palm, savoring the strength cloaked by his smooth skin. She paused at his nape to comb her fingers into his hair. She liked the way the strands curled lightly around her fingers almost as much as she liked her temporary freedom to touch him as she willed.

He made a sound then stretched, arching his back and thrusting his elbow high as he pulled a fist into the curve of his neck. Cassie admired the play of muscles in his arm and across his back. New desire stirred from the embers of last night’s passion.

Then he rolled over to face her and she forgot to breathe. Here was the Lucien she’d loved six years ago, the Lucien she still loved. All of yesterday’s anger was gone. His eyes were so warm they were almost blue.

He smiled and her heart melted. Needing to imprint his image in her memory for all time, she touched her fingers to his temple. Following the straight line of his brow to his nose, she marked his nose’s narrow length to his lips. There, she traced the outline of his mouth.

He caught her hand, touched a kiss to her fingertips, and pressed her palm against his heart. Loving him all over again, Cassie moved her fingers against the springy hair that covered his flesh there.

Amusement and pleasure flared to life in Lucien’s gray eyes. He rolled onto his back, inviting her to touch him as she would. Cassie accepted, easing closer and coming up onto one elbow to better enjoy her task.

Starting with her hand on his far shoulder she drew her palm over his chest, mapping its masculine swell and fall. Then she moved her hand downward across the flat expanse of his stomach. With her fingertip she marked the narrow path of hair that led to the part of him most male. Her hand stopped where the counterpane blocked her path.

With a quiet laugh Lucien threw back the bedclothes, exposing all of him to her touch. Embarrassment and excitement tangled in Cassie as she eyed the strong length of his legs and his stirring shaft. Her gaze fixed on his shaft, curiosity getting the better of her. Although Charles had touched her he’d never wanted Cassie to touch him in return, something that led Cassie to believe her touch could hurt him.

“Don’t ever stop,” Lucien murmured, pleasure and laughter filling his voice as he echoed the words she’d said to him last night.

Wanting to please him, but nibbling her lip in hesitation, Cassie followed that line of hair until she almost reached his shaft. There her caress stopped. She froze, torn between wanting to touch him and the certainty that she was worse than a tart because she wanted it.

At last, she looked at him. “I don’t know how,” she whispered, offering him no more explanation than that.

Lucien released a long slow breath. Desire’s heat burned in the skin along his cheekbones. His eyelids lowered as he took her hand. Placing her palm on his shaft, he curled her fingers around it, then drew her hand downward.

Cassie watched in wonderment as his skin slid beneath her hand in the most intriguing way. The sensation was surprising, almost silken. When he released his guiding hand, freeing Cassie to do as she willed, she stroked him again, this time shifting her hand a little.

Lucien’s quiet sound of pleasure at her play stirred an answering throb in her. That touching him could excite her as much as it did him had stunning implications, implications Cassie was more than willing to explore. Again she stroked him, anticipating his reaction and her own.

He shifted beneath her caress, his hands flattening into the mattress as if to say that she could do as she willed with his body. Cassie’s breath caught at that. Within her she felt the beginnings of her own warmth and wetness.

Freed of all restraint she set to pleasing them both, watching Lucien as she toyed with him. His eyes closed. A tiny crease marked the spot between his brows. After a moment he drew a shaking breath then his hips shifted a little.

Cassie smiled, knowing the meaning behind that motion, at least in her. She definitely wasn’t hurting him. Remembering the joy she’d taken last night from his slow, deliberate thrusts, she practiced the same thing on him, stroking his shaft from root to tip and back.

He groaned. His eyes opened. “Kiss me,” he demanded, his voice low and hoarse.

Cassie touched her mouth to his, her hair falling around them to enclose them in a golden curtain. He threaded his fingers into her hair to hold her mouth against his then closed his other hand around her breast. Cassie shivered at his caress, the desire to take him within her growing with every breath. As her need expanded so did her inventiveness in the way she moved her hand on his shaft.

Lucien gasped against her mouth and arched sharply beneath her. One instant Cassie was leaning above him then next she fell back onto the mattress with a laugh, Lucien atop her. Her laugh dissolved into a glorious gasp as he thrust himself into her. He braced himself above her on his hands, the desire in his gaze searing her. His jaw tightened as he fought for control. Smiling, Cassie shifted beneath him, taunting him.

He caught a sharp breath. “Stop that,” he growled.

“I thought you said I wasn’t to stop.” She laughed, running her hands over his chest, stroking her palms over his nipples.

He groaned, shuddering at her play then collapsed atop her, taking her mouth with his as he thrust into her. It was Cassie’s turn to arch beneath him. That startling tension from last night again unfolded. Crying out, wanting the joy she knew lurked within it, she again thrust up against him.

Lucien half laughed, half gasped against her mouth. “You have to stop. You’re driving me mad with wanting you,” he said between kisses.

“I can’t stop,” Cassie whispered, arching beneath him again, barely aware that she was speaking. All that mattered was that wondrous tension and her pursuit of pleasure. She clutched her arms around him, digging her fingers into his back then raised her good leg until her calf rested over his buttock.

“Lord, don’t stop,” he said on a shuddering breath and gave himself over to the serious pursuit of ecstasy.

They found it together, Cassie’s world once more shattering in joy as Lucien again cried out in release. That she could again drive him to sound only added to Cassie’s enjoyment. When he relaxed atop her she held him close, feeling his heart beating against her own. He buried his head in the curve of her neck, the new growth of his beard prickling as he kissed her nape. She shivered at his play and felt him smile against her skin.

Laughing, she caught her arms around him, holding him close. As she filled her heart with him she willed this moment to continue for all time. Reality nibbled at that thought.

This would end, it had to and it wouldn’t be pleasant when it did. She shoved that thought to the back of her brain, storing it for some other, more distant time. All that mattered now was Lucien and this magical place.

Rising onto his elbow, Lucien kissed her then sat up. “Come, my sweet, it’s time to begin our day.”

Lucien left Cassie to pursue his own ablutions, taking his bedrobe and closing the door behind him as he went. Shortly after that Maggie appeared, bearing stacks of clothing from the trunk Cassie shared with Eliza. Reality took another bite from Cassie’s fantasy as she watched Maggie unwittingly store Eliza’s clothing in the room’s small dresser.

Where was Eliza now? Had she reached Edinburgh safely? Fear shot through Cassie. If she hadn’t, Cassie might never know what became of her.

Maggie didn’t give Cassie long to brood over her sister. Looking far less dour this morning than she had yesterday, the woman bustled back up from the kitchen with hot water and Cassie’s own soap, promising a true bath come the morrow. Her tone was filled with the certainty that Cassie would be here on the morrow and all the morrows that followed when nothing of the sort was possible.

Once Cassie had washed Maggie examined Cassie’s knee and smilingly pronounced it well on the way to healing. She applied more liniment, then bound it with such skill that there was almost no pain when Cassie hobbled. After that, Maggie helped her dress, waiting patiently as her lady agonized over her attire.

Whatever did a woman wear to join her temporary husband at the breakfast table after they’d shared a night of unmitigated passion? What Cassie finally chose wasn’t one of her newest dresses, if the clothing she’d bought just prior to her mother’s death could be called new, but a favorite, a white dress printed with a light blue check. She wondered if she chose it because it dated from her marriage to Charles and reflected a certain wifeliness. She filled its bodice opening with a net fichu embroidered with tiny flowers, laughing inwardly at herself as she did so. She was making another stab at respectability when that state was now far beyond her reach, at least here in England.

And then there was her hair. About half her hair pins remained in the fallen coach, and Eliza had been using Cassie’s bigger combs when they parted. Maggie had no extra to share.

Cassie did her best, twisting her hair into a tight knot then using what pins she had left to try and hold it in place. Strands kept escaping, the knot sliding to one side or the other. At last, she donned a lacy cap to confine it.

Reality took another bite from fantasy as Cassie remembered Eliza laughingly scorning the cap as too old for her youthful sister. As satisfied with her appearance as she could be, Cassie shooed Maggie ahead of her, refusing the housekeeper’s aid as she hobbled slowly down the stairs under her own power.

She entered the second storey hall and paused, lost in pleasant surprise. The room occupied the full width and breadth of this strange tower-house. The light streaming through the broad window on its south wall made the aged floorboard glow golden, the plastered walls to gleam, while the colors in the carpet looked jewel-bright. What Cassie hadn’t seen yesterday was that it served as both drawing room and dining room. As much as she admired the elaborately carved gate-legged table with its six chairs, the pretty blue sofas with their delicate curves, their matching tables, the little chests, her trip down the spiraling stairs left her with questions about how they’d come to be in the chamber.

Lucien, already at the table, came to his feet at her entry, smiling in welcome. Although he’d shaved he still wore yesterday’s attire without his waistcoat, which was no doubt creased beyond repair after serving as her bandage. His neckcloth was fresh, its knot a simpler version of the one he usually wore.

Reality nipped off yet another piece of this fantasy. Of course Lucien wore yesterday’s clothing. His attire and his valet were still at Ryecroft Castle.

“Look at you walk on your own feet,” Lucien said, coming out from behind the table to take her arm, supporting her for the remainder of her trip to the table. Cassie leaned against him, loving his nearness, but she had to laugh.

“No doubt your back is grateful for my improvement. What a chore carrying me must have been.” She took her chair.

“I can’t say that any part of me minded holding you close,” he lied as he sat beside her. His mouth lifted into that charming lopsided grin she liked so much. Fantasy regained all the ground it had lost while she dressed.

The table was set for two, the breakfast laid upon it including a surprising array of food. Lucien had his beef, but there was also steaming oatmeal, fried ham, boiled eggs, breads and jams. Maggie appeared with the teapot, took two teacups from the massive cupboard behind the table then retreated down the stairs. Her haste almost screamed of a desire to leave her lord and lady to their own devices.