First Sinners (2 page)

Her gaze flew to his face. “You’ve . . . done this?”

“Once or twice.”

Her mouth opened and his mind flew to more carnal matters, her on her knees, lips parted just like that as she teased the crown of his wet cock with her tongue....

“Lord Westbrook?”

“Yes, Miss Pelly?”

“Isn’t it rather complicated?”

“Not really, you would just need to . . .” He recollected himself just in time. “I mean, it definitely needs some forethought from everyone involved.”

She shivered, but he was convinced it wasn’t from the cold. Her nipples were hard and pressing against the linen of her nightgown. He wanted to bend his head and take one of them between his teeth and drive her wild. Innocence had never drawn him before, but coupled with her intelligence he found her surprisingly arousing. How far did he dare to go? How desperate was Miss Pelly to experience the joys she had researched so religiously?

“Do you have any other questions?” He kept his tone mild and scholarly. “This particular illustration
is
rather advanced. Are you not interested in the earlier images in the book that deal with self-pleasuring without penetration?”

“I’ve learned quite a lot from those pages already, thank you, my lord, although—” She glanced down at his breeches and kept looking.

He smoothed a hand over the bulge of his cock. “I apologize, Miss Pelly, speaking of such matters is arousing whatever the circumstances. Consider my reaction to you as a compliment.”

“I—thank you, sir.”

“Did you find this book when you were locating the other items for me?”

“Oh, no, I found this a while ago. Apparently my grandfather was rather a connoisseur of such items.”

“Indeed.” He studied her flushed cheeks. “Do you intend to follow in his footsteps?”

“Unfortunately, that’s impossible because I’m not a man.”

“You can still learn.”

She raised her chin to stare directly into his eyes. “What exactly are you suggesting, my lord?”

“What if I offered myself as a guide to your exploration of such matters?”

“My
physical
guide?”

“Naturally.” He cupped his groin, drawing her gaze to him and slowly ran his thumb over the length of his shaft until it thrust against the satin of his pantaloons. Women often mistook sex for intimacy. If he could persuade the interesting Miss Pelly to engage in a lascivious affair with him, she might become more confiding than her sister ever would.

“And what of your courtship of my sister, Margaret?”

He stilled his fingers. Had she read his thoughts? “What does marriage have to do with this?”

“You would continue to court her, and yet talk of such things with me?”

She was loyal, then. He admired that.

“If it offends you, I will, of course, withdraw my offer.”

She bit down on her luscious lower lip, her gaze still on his hardening cock. “I don’t think you truly wish to marry her at all.”

“Why do you think I accepted your father’s kind invitation to this house party, then?”

“I’m not sure.”

He met her candid gaze. “In truth, you are correct. I needed to escape a certain lady in London who was becoming rather fixated with me.”

“Does that happen to you a lot?”

Something about her acerbic tone made him want to smile. She was no fool, the older Miss Pelly. Her lack of sympathy was somewhat refreshing.

“All the time.” He shrugged. “I can’t seem to help it.”

Her eyes narrowed and then she surprised him by laughing. “Touché, my lord.”

“Indeed, Miss Pelly.” He hesitated. “Do you wish to engage on this journey with me or not?”

She considered him, her head to one side. “Yes, I believe I do.”

“Excellent.”

The clock struck three times, and she shivered and drew her shawl around her shoulders.

“You should go to bed, Miss Pelly.”

“So should you.”

“I don’t sleep much, and”—he gestured at his groin—“I fear I need to take care of something before I will be able to sleep a wink.”

“Does it hurt?”

“In a pleasurable way, yes.”

“What exactly will you do to make your seed erupt?”

She took the book from his hands and turned to another illustration. “Like this.”

He looked over her shoulder. “I fear this is a slight exaggeration. The man in this picture is climaxing with all the abandon of a young stallion.”

“Oh.”

She sounded quite disappointed. He’d always loved a challenge.

“You can watch if you like.”

Her breath caught. “Now?”

“If it pleases you.”

Her teeth sank into her lip again, and he wanted her to see him come, wanted to uncover his cock for her and let her touch him if she so desired.... He slowly unbuttoned the placket of his pantaloons and lowered the fabric. His shirt was wet with pre-cum and transparent. He gently pulled it free to reveal the hot thrust of his shaft. The sudden cold made his flesh jerk, and Miss Pelly gasped.

“It’s all right.” He cupped his balls and eased his shaft away from his belly. “I’m just rather sensitive at the moment.”

With practiced strokes, he set about making himself come, aware of Miss Pelly’s avid gaze and swiftly taken breaths. Her interest simply heightened his, and he took more time than he usually would, displaying his cock for her, and delaying his satisfaction until he could bear it no more.

“My handkerchief, Miss Pelly. Will you retrieve it from my coat pocket?”

She stood over him, the handkerchief grasped in her fingers.

“Cover my cock.”

“But then I won’t be able to see.”

He set his teeth against the urge to invite her to bend down and see much better by taking him in her mouth.

“I’ll wait until the last possible moment, I promise.”

She handed over the kerchief and he increased the speed of his fingers until he was arching off the seat. The heat of his seed flooded from the tip of his cock in thick, regular jets and he immediately covered himself with the handkerchief.

Miss Pelly sat down beside him with a sudden
thump
. “That was quite extraordinary. Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” He patted his rapidly deflating cock dry and removed the handkerchief. “I should be able to sleep now.”

That wasn’t strictly true. He’d sleep much better if he could bed her properly, but that wasn’t a realistic possibility quite yet....

“It wasn’t
quite
like the illustration, but it was even more dramatic in the flesh, so to speak.”

“I’m so glad you think so.”

“As you said, my lord,
experiencing
things firsthand is obviously much better than reading about them in a book.”

He buttoned his pantaloons and rose to his feet. “I can assure you that no harm will come to you in my hands. You will remain a virgin.”

She slipped off the seat, headed to the door, and unlocked it. At the last moment, she turned to study him.

“And if I wasn’t a virgin?”

“You said you’d never bedded a man.”

“That’s true, but I also said that I’d investigated some of the earlier chapters about self-pleasuring.” Her color rose. “I fear I ‘might’ have inadvertently taken my own maidenhead. Good night, my lord.”

Before he could gather his scattered wits, she disappeared, and he was left staring into the damp, gloomy darkness of the hall beyond the library door. What the devil had she meant by that? His anticipation rose, and he waited only long enough to blow out all the candles except one, which he took with him and headed for his bed. If Miss Pelly did decide to trust her body to him, it seemed the possibilities might be even more interesting than he’d anticipated. He tucked her discarded book in his pocket. It was obviously time for him to take up his studies again and decide exactly what would please his lady most.

2

Whatever had she been
thinking?
Faith stared out of the rain-lashed window at the stormy skies beyond, and wished with all her might that she could be outside. She loved being out in all weather; it made her feel alive. But with guests in the house, her wish was unlikely to be granted. Her mother relied on her to order the household, and persuade the surly cook to improve her offerings to suit finicky London appetites.

Remembering the rapidly approaching dinner hour, she placed her sewing back in the basket beside her chair. She hadn’t seen Lord Westbrook all day. Her father had taken him out to view the estate on horseback, along with two of her cousins and an older retired military man who was a neighbor.

This hadn’t pleased Margaret or her mother. When there was no man to admire her, Margaret tended to become rather unpleasant, like a child deprived of a favorite toy. She’d avoided them as best she could, but Margaret had been full of complaints about the behavior of Lord Westbrook, who hadn’t seemed as entranced by her beauty as every other man of her acquaintance. It seemed one Season in London had turned her already spoiled sister into a veritable Aphrodite.

“Where are you going?”

Faith looked up to see Margaret staring down at her from the top of the stairs.

“To the kitchens. Do you wish to accompany me?”

Her sister came down making a face. “No, just tell the cook not to serve all that disgusting fish again tonight. It makes me bilious.”

“It’s the freshest thing around here, and the cheapest.” Faith waited for Margaret to join her at the foot of the staircase. “There simply isn’t the money for much else.”

“You’re always complaining about something. Who cares about the money?”

“You should care. You’re the one who’s expected to marry well and save the family fortunes.”

“I know that.” Margaret smoothed down the fine muslin of her gown. “I’m quite prepared to marry for money and position.”

“Are you sure?” Faith touched her sister’s arm. “What about love?”

“Mother says that once a woman has given her husband a legitimate heir or two, love can be found in many places within the
ton
.”

“And you accept that?”

Margaret smiled and cupped Faith’s cheek. “No one would think it to look at you, but you are such a romantic. It’s a good thing I was the one born with the beautiful face.” Her expression hardened. “Don’t you understand, sister, I will marry absolutely
anyone
if it gets me out of this pitiful existence. Look at this place! Do you want to spend the rest of your days here?”

“I’ve always liked living quietly by the sea, you know that.”

Margaret kissed her cheek. “When I marry my duke, I’ll send for you, and make sure you have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“I think I have everything I want here.”

“The library, and the freedom to walk on the cliffs by yourself? That cannot be enough, even for you.”

“I’m hoping that once you are settled, our parents will give up on the idea of my ever marrying, and leave me here to manage the place until it falls into the sea.”

“Oh, Faith, where’s your ambition?”

“All vested in you, my love.” She searched her sister’s beautiful face. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then I wish that the most handsome, and richest titled gentleman in society will soon be yours.”

Margaret’s answering grin reminded Faith of her sister’s younger days, when she hadn’t been so consumed with the need to get away from their family’s precarious financial position on the fringe of the
ton
.

“What about Cousin Robin? Is he still besotted with you?”

Her sister’s face fell. “He isn’t taking his dismissal lightly. In fact, he’s furious with me.”

“I can see why. We all thought—”

“Then you were all wrong, and so was he. I’ve already told him I can’t marry an impoverished second cousin.”

“Poor Robin.”

Margaret shrugged off the sympathy. “He insists he has prospects, but I can’t see how a job within the government will lead to fame and fortune, can you?”

“But if you care for him . . .”

“As I keep telling you, that’s irrelevant! I can’t
afford
to care for anyone. I’ll leave that sort of romantic nonsense to you, and pursue my intention to marry a peer of the realm.”

With that, Margaret picked up her skirts and stormed back up the stairs, leaving Faith staring after her. It was a pity Robin had been invited to the same house party as the Earl of Westbrook, and a couple of other hopeful suitors. Faith wasn’t particularly fond of Robin, but it had to be hard for him to watch the woman he loved parade herself in front of other men. All had seemed settled between the pair before Margaret’s Season, and now everything had changed.

Faith pushed open the door that led down to the kitchens, and the smell of freshly gutted fish rose up to meet her. She admired Margaret for her clear-sighted ability to make a decision about her future, but she also worried about her. Could her sister really make such a cold-blooded marriage? Faith didn’t think she could do that. She wanted to be loved for herself.

Which brought her back to the Earl of Westbrook’s indecent proposal . . . Was Margaret right? Was she the one who should be taking advantage of an opportunity that would never be available to her again? When Margaret married, there would be no more eligible gentlemen around to ask for advice on such delicate matters. She’d be reduced to pleasuring herself for the rest of her life....

Faith opened the door into the kitchen and fixed a smile on her face. She’d have to think about that later. Charming the cook would require all her effort and the considerable patience of a skilled diplomat.

 

 

Ian glanced around the drawing room, but couldn’t see Miss Pelly anywhere. A meager fire burned low in the grate, which did nothing to disguise the chill of the vast room. The sister was surrounded by three of her current admirers. A fourth, a distant Pelly cousin, was glowering at her from the window seat close to Ian. The man looked vaguely familiar, and Ian wondered if they had been at school together. There had been a gaggle of Pellys at Eton who all looked the same. If Miss Margaret’s thwarted suitor wished to regain the attention of his lost love, he wouldn’t achieve it by guarding her like a dog with a bone.

He nodded at the man and held out his hand. “I believe we are already acquainted, sir. Were you at Eton?”

“I was, my lord. I’m Robin Pelly.” He shook Ian’s proffered hand. “I’m surprised that you remember me. We hardly socialized in the same circles.”

There was a hint of antagonism in Pelly’s voice that Ian was well used to. Because of his parentage, he’d had to fight hard for his place at school. He’d eventually triumphed because, unlike most of the indolent bullies who tormented him, he was prepared to do
anything
to safeguard his mother’s reputation. His standing as a wild, unmanageable savage had followed him through the years and was still remembered in some quarters.

“I remember you quite well. You were a fine bowler.”

Robin’s face flushed. “I wouldn’t say that, my lord, but I certainly did like to play.”

Ah, the English and their eternal bashfulness over such ridiculous subjects as sports, and their complete arrogance over the rights of other nations. That had always amused his mother.

“What are you engaged in now, Mr. Pelly?”

“I’m working at the Treasury.”

There was a hint of a challenge in Robin’s reply that Ian chose to ignore. “A very valuable occupation, especially in time of war.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t join up, Carmichael. I would’ve thought violent slaughter would appeal to you.”

“I did think of it, but my father’s death and all the obligations of his demise left me unable to leave the country.”

He’d wanted to go back to India, but that had been denied him too.

“Of course, you’re the Earl of Westbrook now, aren’t you?” Robin glanced over at an oblivious Margaret, and the scowl descended again. “I understand that you are enamored of my cousin.”

“Oh, no, not yet. We hardly know each other. May I offer you a word of advice? If you wish the lady to smile at you, you might consider less dog-in-the-manger behavior. She is hardly likely to admire you for skulking in the corner.”

“Well, you’d know all about making yourself agreeable, wouldn’t you?” Robin sneered.

“One might think so.” Ian inclined his head. “But as you know the lady far better than myself, I’m sure you know best.”

Robin Pelly struck him as the kind of man who would always be bitter and envious of others. His older brother, Michael, who was also present, was far more accepting of his social position and more amiable as a result. Ian spent a few minutes speaking to him. He discovered that after studying to become a lawyer Michael Pelly was now employed by the government and eager to engage the earl’s potential interest.

He supposed if he wished to remain in character, he should make some effort to appear interested in Miss Margaret. He strolled over to the group surrounding her and waited for the lady to acknowledge him. She didn’t even glance at him for quite a while, and he found himself appreciating her skill. Despite her beauty, like her sister, she was no insipid miss.

Eventually she deigned to speak to him, and he replied in kind, his tone pleasant.

“Do you expect the weather to improve at all tomorrow, Miss Margaret?”

She shivered, the motion setting her perfectly groomed gilt curls trembling. “I doubt it will ever improve that much, my lord.”

“I was hoping to take a walk out onto the cliffs, and the beach below.”

“Then you should speak to my sister, Faith. She is far more hardy than I will ever be, and walks there almost every morning.”

“Thank you, I’ll certainly ask if I might accompany her.” He looked around. “Is Miss Pelly joining us this evening?”

“I believe she is. There isn’t exactly much else to do around here.” She looked at him directly for the first time. “Did you enjoy your ride with my father?”

“It was most interesting.”

In truth, it had depressed him to see such a great estate starved of money and resources, and brought to its knees. His host’s desperation had become even more evident as they’d viewed the abandoned farms, and copper mines that dotted the coastline. There had hardly been any people either. It was a perfect spot for smugglers and spies to land. His wish to explore the coastline on foot was quite genuine. He wanted to see how such information and goods would be taken up from the beach to the tops of the cliffs.

The door opened, bringing with it a gust of freezing air, and Miss Pelly and her mother entered. Both women wore shawls around their shoulders and the thin evening gowns fashion demanded. Ian wondered if the imminently sensible Miss Pelly wore stout woolen stockings beneath her muslin skirts. He found the idea quite alluring.

He caught her gaze, and she didn’t look away. Her gown was a dull blue with silver lace at the bodice, which made her eyes look as stormy as the weather.

“Good evening, Miss Pelly.”

“Lord Westbrook. Did you have a pleasant day?”

She walked over to him, and he turned slightly to one side to allow them a moment of privacy.

“The countryside is very dramatic.”

“It isn’t to everyone’s taste, but I enjoy it immensely.” She looked up at him. “You don’t sound as if you liked it much yourself.”

“As a landowner, I was more concerned about the potential for raising income than the land’s beauty.”

She sighed. “And you saw little evidence of that, I’ll wager. Times have been very hard on our tenants these past years.”

“I can imagine.” He hesitated. “At least they can fish.”

“And smuggle.” She smiled. “I’m sure you are too polite to mention such things, my lord, but we all know they go on.” Her amusement faded. “And, in truth, if I had to choose between feeding my family, or starving to death, I might decide that breaking an unjust law might be worth it.”

“Why do you think it unjust?”

“Because it is for the benefit of the government and not the people.”

“You are a reformer, Miss Pelly? You would like to see our current government swept away in a violent revolution like that in France?”

“Of course not, that was horrible, but I do believe there is room for reform, especially of the right to vote.”

“Oh, dear, Faith
do
stop.”

Ian tore his gaze away from Miss Pelly’s indignant face and looked at her sister, who had sidled up beside him, and was regarding them both with some amusement.

“Is my sibling suggesting all men should have the vote again, Lord Westbrook? She is quite an ardent little revolutionary at heart.”

“Miss Pelly is merely expressing her opinion.”

Margaret linked her arm through his and drew him away. “And we all know that women, like children, should be seen and not heard.” She glanced back over her shoulder at her sister. “Now run along and make sure that dinner is ready, darling, before you embarrass yourself further.”

Two spots of color appeared on Miss Pelly’s cheeks, but she said nothing and merely turned away and headed for the door.

At her approach, the butler stepped forward. “Dinner is served.”

Miss Margaret patted Ian’s sleeve. “That wasn’t nice of you to bait my sister, my lord. Faith is already regarded as something of a bluestocking. If she dares to argue with the great Earl of Westbrook, who will ever consider marrying her?”

“I consider Miss Pelly a woman of superior sense and understanding. I had no intention of baiting her. We were merely—”

She flicked open her folded fan. “You drew attention to her, attention that will embarrass her.”

“I wasn’t aware that she was discomfited, Miss Margaret. That seemed to stem entirely from her interaction with you. Don’t worry. I won’t let my opinion of your sister sway my opinion of you.”