An Invitation to Scandal (25 page)

“Can I touch you?”

Desperation edged his request and Abigail realized she was not alone in what she felt. She nodded her assent and held her breath, waiting. His hand slid over her belly, then made a slow descent downward. She took in a quick breath, then stopped breathing altogether when his fingers found the split in her drawers and slid inside.

Chapter Sixteen

“Oh!”

Abigail was slick from wanting and his fingers glided over her with ease, back and forth with slow intent until she thought she would lose what little remained of her mind.

She arched against him. Her bare back rubbed against the superfine wool of his waistcoat. His other arm came around her, his calloused hand finding her breast, cupping it gently and brushing her nipple with his thumb. Spirals of ecstasy weakened her legs further until she didn’t know how much longer she could stand.

His lips touched her neck and her pulse jumped. “Tell me to stop.”

Again, the desperation in his voice, as if he needed her to be the one to put an end to this madness. But it was too late. Her need for him left her unable to form the words. She shook her head. His fingers worked their magic until the need built to a frenzied pitch.

“If we don’t stop—”

“Don’t stop.” She could manage nothing else. If he stopped now she would surely expire on the spot. And then, a white hot heat pulsated through her body and poured over her in waves, leaving her limp, yet far from satiated. Even as the tide of pleasure ebbed, she wanted more. Needed more.

Her breath came in gasps and a sheen of moisture dotted her skin.

“You have haunted every one of my dreams since the first night I danced with you,” he said.

Abigail remembered that night as if it had happened only yesterday and not two long years ago. He had shown up at Almack’s. The stir of his entrance swept the room like a wildfire across dry wheat grass. She’d never seen such a reaction and had known little about Lord Roxton at the time, though it didn’t take long for the gossips to fill her in. He was an unrepentant rake with the ability to make even the most sensible of women turn wanton by his attentions. When he asked her to dance, she told him no. Instead of being angry, he’d been amused and had stuck by her most of the evening. When she’d danced with others he’d insisted on telling her everything wrong with each man. Foolish things, really. Thick ankles. A badly tied cravat. A propensity to over-chew their food. By the end of the night she realized she had quite enjoyed being with him. He was different than the other men she’d met. He lacked the airs and artifice, his manner most genuine and honest, if not borderline inappropriate.

She had missed his company terribly when he went away.

She turned in his arms and gazed up into his silvery eyes. “I find you horribly overdressed, my lord. It puts me at a disadvantage.”

He touched her face with a reverent hand. Want and regret etched into his handsome features. His head fell forward and touched hers, a gesture so intimate, so telling, Abigail could only hold her breath and wait. “I have compromised you beyond all reason. We need to stop this now before—”

“If you have compromised me beyond all reason then there is no going back. Stopping now will not uncompromise me.” She placed her hands on his chest and undid the buttons of his waistcoat. He did not stop her, as much a slave to what grew between them as she. The knowledge made her bold.

“Make love to me,” she whispered, slipping her hands inside his waistcoat and pushing it down his arms. The warmth of his body enveloped her, chasing away the chill.

“Abigail, I—”

“Do not tell me no. Don’t deny me this. I do not expect you to offer for me. I have no expectation or claim on you, nor do I intend to make one. But soon Lord Tarrington will make his offer and I must accept. Before that happens I want something for myself. I want to know what it is to be with someone who wants me for who I am, and not for how many sons I can bare him. Please. Let us have this time, then we can go back to the way things must be and no one but us will be the wiser.”

She gave her impassioned speech, then pressed her cheek against his chest and slid her arms around him. He stroked her back, stoking the flame yet to be fully extinguished.

After a moment, Nicholas swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed behind her, kicking the blankets back with his boot and laying her gently upon the cool sheets. He stood over her, looking down, his intense gaze never leaving hers as he pulled off his shirt, revealing his strong chest. Abigail longed to reach up and let her fingers trace the rigid muscles in his stomach but she dared not move. His gaze broke and he sat on the edge of the bed to yank off his boots. Then he stood once again, his back to her as his trousers were removed.

She held her breath as his backside was bared, sculpted and round. She stared like a wanton fool. He was truly beautiful. A piece of sculpture come to life. And he was hers, at least for this moment. He turned, his need for her evident. For a brief moment hesitation gripped her, but curiosity tossed it aside.

With a tentative hand, she reached out and touched him, surprised by how silky smooth he was.

Nicholas gasped at her touch and his head fell back. “Dear God.”

For a moment she thought she’d hurt him, but the expression on his face told her different. Emboldened, she touched him again and let her hand slowly slide down the full length of him. His hands clenched at his sides and she smiled.

“Does it feel good?”

He swallowed and dropped to his knees onto the bed, forcing her hand to fall away. “You have no idea. Shall I return the favor?”

A thrill of expectation made her quiver. “Yes.” There was no going back.

Nicholas crawled over her, like an animal stalking its prey. His movements were graceful and calculated. “I have longed for this moment. Did you know that?”

Abigail shook her head.

“Every night when I was not with you. Every day, when I paid you court. I wondered what it would be like have you beneath me. To look down and see you smile up at me with invitation.”

“Your thoughts were highly improper, my lord.”

He grinned, and the tension eased from his face. “I know, but I could not help myself. Your uncle was right to refuse my suit of you. I was a reprobate.”

Sadness colored her happiness. “I wish he hadn’t. How different things would have been—”

“We cannot change the past.” He leaned down and his lips grazed hers. “I wish we could. If it were possible, I’d do so in a heartbeat. I’d make you my wife and we’d have a passel of babies and make love every evening until dawn.” His lips traveled down across her jaw. “Your laughter would fill our household and our home would be a place of joy and love.”

Abigail’s fingers slid into his thick hair as his mouth trailed a line of kisses down her neck sending spirals of pleasure through her body until they pooled low in her belly. It occurred to her Nicholas had likely never had any of those things. As much as Lady Blackbourne and Rebecca loved him, Lord Blackbourne despised him. Even in the week she’d spent in his family’s company and the limited contact where the two men shared the same space, the animosity crackled around them. How must it have been to live so?

She held him to her breast and he kissed it reverently until all coherent thought raced away; replaced with only the physical need to give him all the things he longed for, to be the home he needed.

Abigail slid her hands along his broad shoulders, marveling in the way his muscles shifted beneath her touch. He left her breast and found her mouth, kissing her with such tender devotion, any last bit of anger and resentment she’d harbored melted away and she saw clearly the way things were. She understood now. He had been driven by hurt, rejected once again as not good enough.

“I do not want to hurt you,” he said, when his mouth left hers, both of them breathless. “A woman’s first time can be painful.”

“I am certain you will take the utmost care with me.” She did not even question it. Despite her attacks on him, through every angry word she spouted in his direction, he had never once retaliated. Yes, he had lied to her about his identity, but had he revealed the truth to her the night of Madame St. Augustine’s party, she would never have allowed him to remove her from the party unharmed and undiscovered. While she had tried to destroy him, he had done nothing but protect her.

Nicholas stretched out next to her, half covering her body with his. His erection pressed against her hip, so close to the center of her own need the ache only increased. His hands explored her body, touching every inch of skin until nothing was left unattended save for the incessant longing. It became difficult to lie still beneath his teasing ministrations.

When she thought she could not stand it another moment, Nicholas shifted his weight and settled between her thighs. With one hand, he touched her face.

“Are you certain?”

Strain tightened his skin and made his cheekbones even more prominent. She knew what it cost him to stop, knew he would anyway if she said the word.

“I am certain.”

Nicholas leaned down and gave her a languorous kiss. The storm raged and swirled like a tempest outside before he shifted yet again and eased into her, giving her a moment to adjust to the newness of the sensation, then with one brief thrust, he breached the barrier of her innocence and held still once again. Abigail tensed as a sharp pain stole her breath, but as quickly as it came, it calmed and the unfamiliar pleasure of him inside of her overtook it. She wanted more and pushed her hips into him, taking him in fully.

“Sweet Lord,” he uttered and tightened his hold around her. He moved once again and each stroke built the need growing inside of her, pushing her to a point she couldn’t quite reach. Closer and closer it grew as the wind outside whipped against the walls of the cabin. Their bodies moved together in a natural rhythm.

Abigail’s hands caressed the smooth planes of his back feeling his muscles shift with each thrust. With her legs clasped around his hips, tension gripped her body each time he filled her, deeper and deeper until the tension peaked and broke, washing over her in undulating waves of pleasure. She had a vague awareness of Nicholas’s body stiffening as he found his release, his groan of pleasure echoing in her ear and sending a shiver straight to her core. She tightened her grip around his hips and held him there, as he collapsed on top of her, reveling in the last few moments of pleasure.

Nicholas could scarcely believe what had just happened, certain at any moment he would awake and realize it had been nothing more than another one of his dreams. But he could not deny the reality of the warm body wrapped around his. Her scent enveloped him. He hadn’t dreamed it. She was with him. Abigail.

She had explored his body, given herself to him with a bold fearlessness that had surprised and entranced him until he could not hold himself in check. All his promises of squelching his desires were lost the moment he touched her.

Nicholas held her tighter and rolled to his side, bringing her fully against him. She snuggled in as he reached down and pulled the blankets around them. Outside, the rain had abetted to a light smattering of drops. Soon, it would be safe to leave, to return to reality.

But how could he? He had found his own Eden here in this cabin, with Abigail. How could he return to the hell of his real life and survive, knowing he had walked away from this, and for what? Everything he did was to show Abigail he had changed, that he understood the enormity of his actions and would atone for them.

He wanted her forgiveness. If she had willingly given herself to him, did that not mean he had it? Could they have the life together he had always dreamed of? Though many expected he would make an offer to Miss Caldwell, he had already told Blackbourne he had no intentions of doing so. Perhaps many believed there to be an understanding, but he had made no promises. There was still time, still a chance he and Abigail could find the happiness that had eluded them the first time around.

Hope soared through him as the last of the raindrops were squeezed from the clouds and a weak shard of sunlight peeked through the window and lit a path across the wide slatted floors to pool at the rug next to the bed.

“Abigail?”

“Mmm…” She nuzzled her nose into his side and pressed closer to him.

“I will make this right. If you will allow me, I will make this right.”

Though she kept her eyes closed, he sensed the change in her body as she shrugged off the warm lure of satiated sleep.

“Do not feel you need to. We made no promises to each other,” she told him. But he had made a promise to himself, to protect her, to never allow her to be hurt again the way she had when her uncle died.

“It is not a matter of need.” He kissed the top of her head and breathed in her sweet scent. Their lovemaking had left her hair tousled. It fell around her shoulders in disheveled waves. She had never looked more beautiful to him. “At least not in the way you think. I am not doing this because I feel the need to make something right. I am doing it because I cannot imagine letting you go.”

Abigail shifted and looked up at him, her blue eyes clear and sharp. “It is not necessary. You do not—”

“Do you not want to?” He had not even asked. A horrible sense of falling overcame him. What if it had been as she had said—just one night, with no expectations? Had he simply been a way for her to experience pleasure without worrying about repercussions? Without engaging her heart?

“I do not want to be a duty you feel the need to fulfill,” she said.

“You are not a duty. You are the only thing that gives my life any meaning, any sense. I do not want to lose you again. I will find a way for us to be together.”

He leaned down and kissed her, knowing soon they must part. A hint of sunlight peeked out from the spent clouds. Their precious time together had run out. He needed to leave her, to establish an alibi of having been elsewhere, for her sake as well as his. When he married her, he did not want anyone to think he did so because he had to. He did it because he loved her. He had never stopped. He
would
never stop. Abigail snuggled into his side once again. Her lack of an immediate answer to his proposal left him unsettled. He held his breath and waited, forcing himself not to prompt or prod.