His Wicked Embrace (17 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: His Wicked Embrace
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“I want to remove some of your clothing first,” she insisted. When he offered no protest, she reached for the buttons. Curious and excited, Isabella began to open the last few fastenings on his shirt. Damien shifted his weight and gave her an odd smile as she struggled with the buttons.
“Just rip it,” he whispered in a deep voice, and he inhaled deeply as Isabella followed his commands. Buttons spewed about the room, and Damien laughed with delight.
Nervous but determined, Isabella continued her explorations. Deftly she reached inside the linen and spread her hands across Damien's naked chest. The springy dark hair tickled her palms. The flesh beneath felt smooth and very hard. Experimentally she moved her hands lower, across the flat plane of his stomach to the top of his breeches. A long shudder ran through Damien.
“Enough,” he said abruptly, yanking off the remains of his shirt and tossing it aside.
He briefly debated carrying Isabella over to the bed, but his blood was roaring in his ears. He kissed her deeply, his passion becoming more urgent with each kiss, his need more overwhelming with each caress.
Damien couldn't stop touching her. His skillful fingers reached under her skirts, tugging impatiently at the strong ribbons that fastened the drawers around her waist.
“Lift your hips,” he commanded with a desperate plea of passion.
Dazed, Isabella obeyed, and the earl triumphantly pulled the flimsy garment from her heated skin. Her cotton stockings quickly followed, then her already unfastened gown. Damien's hand stroked boldly down her naked flesh, past her belly, finally coming to rest between her legs.
Isabella lost control of her breathing as she felt his fingers sliding into the moist triangle of curls. She made a raw choking sound as Damien tenderly spread the delicate folds of her flesh. His fingers slid lightly back and forth, spreading a throbbing excitement throughout her entire being. Clenching her eyes closed, Isabella fought back the rush of embarrassment and allowed herself to yield to the exquisite pleasure.
She felt the most incredible aching tension deep within her and arched convulsively in reaction, twisting to get closer to him as he intimately caressed her.
“Sweet, so sweet, my Isabella,” Damien whispered sensually as his finger slid deeply inside her dampness. “Let go. Just let go.”
For a moment Isabella lay motionless, gazing with mute astonishment into Damien's passion-darkened eyes, and then she cried out as the pleasure surged suddenly, wildly exploding within her.
He kissed her deeply, then held her tightly as the climax overtook her, his excitement mounting at each moan, each whimper, each shuddering breath she drew. Finally Isabella quieted.
Her release made her body feel limp and pliant. Damien knew he should wait until he brought her to the edge of passion again before coupling with her, but he was no longer capable of rational thought. Feeling the dewy feminine moisture of her body caused the earl's hard-fought control to dissolve. Savagely ripping his breeches away, he loomed over Isabella, his entire body straining with need. He kneed her legs wider apart and settled himself between them.
“I'm going to claim you now, Isabella,” he whispered hoarsely.
Damien entered her as slow as he could manage, wanting to spare her unnecessary pain. Roused from her stupor, she caught at the hard arms braced around her and held tight. With a look of wonder in her eyes, she gazed deeply into his.
Her open trust and passionate acceptance overwhelmed Damien. He wanted to warm her with his flesh, to protect her with his strength, to cherish her with his heart. She deserved no less.
Moaning, he grasped her hips in his hands and pressed deeper. Isabella felt something tear inside her and give way, but she ignored the burning pain and lifted herself closer, wanting to feel him even deeper within her body.
Damien forced himself to take deep breaths and remain perfectly still even though his body was throbbing. He could feel her stretching, her muscles convulsing around him. It felt glorious.
“I'm sorry I hurt you,” he whispered against her temple.
“It wasn't so bad.” Isabella pulled her head aside and gazed into his handsome face. “I can feel you throbbing inside me,” she said with gentle awe. “Is it over?”
She shifted her legs restlessly, and Damien swore softly. “ 'Tis only begun, my sweet.”
His lips descended on hers in a crushing kiss while his hips drew back, then thrust forward, deep within her. He began to raise and lower his body with slow, steady strokes, and Isabella began to move with him.
The pain lessened, and Isabella gasped at the wonderful sensation of him inside her. Yet she experienced more, much more than the physical intimacy. She was merged with him in her heart as well as her body. He was filling the emptiness in her soul, coloring the drabness of her spirit. Isabella encircled Damien with her arms, lightly stroking his back. She rose boldly to meet his thrust and felt him grow even larger within her.
Damien knew it was too soon, knew she was not ready, but his blood was afire and it was impossible to hold back. He sank more deeply into her. Eyes closed, his body stiffened, shook, and a long rattling cry emerged from his throat. Tears rolled gently down Isabella's cheeks as she felt the warm wetness of his seed inside her body. Never in her life had she felt closer to another living creature than she did at that instant.
For a long time, Damien lay sprawled atop her, seemingly incapable of movement. His body was slick with perspiration, his breathing uneven. He was heavy, but she paid it no heed. She lay quiet and still beneath him, inordinately pleased that even with her sexual ignorance, she had managed to give him pleasure.
Damien raised his head and lifted his hand to touch her cheek in a placating gesture, his steely gray eyes soft and apologetic.
“Next time it will be better,” he promised mysteriously.
She dropped her eyes from his. Next time! Her face flushed with embarrassment. Did that mean he expected her to share his bed now as a matter of course? Isabella opened her mouth and attempted to say something, anything, in response, but her words were cut off as Damien gathered her in his arms and took her with him as he rolled onto his back.
She lay atop him with her arms pressed against his chest and her legs tangled with his. Her body still vibrating with awareness, it took a few moments to realize they were no longer joined together. But they were still very much connected.
Time passed. Gradually Isabella realized that his strong hands had begun to sweep enticingly over the small of her back and buttocks. The tingly, restless feeling started burning again low in her belly.
“We really should move to the bed,” Damien announced in a deep, lazy voice. It took several long moments for him to follow through with his suggestion, his limbs too tired and content to obey his mind.
Eventually he lifted her in his arms and walked to the bed. Pulling back the counterpane, Damien laid her down gently, almost reverently. He kissed her long and ardently before gathering her close in his arms. She sighed contentedly and snuggled closer, wondering what was to happen next.
“Good night, Isabella,” Damien said softly.
“Good night,” she replied automatically, feeling her eyelids drooping. Before drifting off to sleep, she could have sworn she heard the earl mutter something else. It sounded suspiciously like “thank you.”
 
 
A sharp, insistent knock jolted Damien awake. Disoriented, he sat up in his bed and glanced about the room in confusion. He couldn't read the time on the clock near his armoire, but the fire still blazed in the hearth. It couldn't be that late.
The bright flames of the fire kept the worst of the chill from the room and partially illuminated the bedchamber. Damien could clearly see the nearly full decanter of brandy alongside an empty glass and several piles of clothes scattered about the floor. His clothes. And Isabella's.
Damien turned, startled at the sight of her sleeping peacefully in his bed, even though he had carried her there himself.
The knock sounded again. Damien rose quietly from the bed, hastily donned his breeches, and answered it. Not surprisingly, Jenkins stood on the other side of the door, looking both curious and concerned.
“It has been hours since Miss Browning brought up your brandy,” Jenkins said, stretching on his toes in an unsuccessful attempt to look above the earl's head and into the bedchamber. “We have all finished dinner. Mrs. Amberly was feeling well enough to get the children ready for bed. But they are expecting Miss Browning to tuck them in, as she does each night.”
“Miss Browning has gone to bed early this evening.” Damien stared hard at his servant. “Her
own
bed, Jenkins. Do you understand?”
“I hear you quite well,” Jenkins replied shrewdly. The valet folded his arms across his chest. “And I
understand.”
Damien dropped his chin to his chest. “No lectures, please. I'm confused enough without hearing your blistering opinion of my actions.” The earl lifted his head, sighed deeply, and added, “I'll see to Catherine and Ian myself.”
“I managed to save a bit of dinner for you,” Jenkins said, his expression inscrutable. “Miss Browning made quite a feast that everyone thoroughly enjoyed. I suggest you stop by the kitchen after you have said good night to the children. It looks as though you could use some nourishment.”
“I most likely shall. Good night, Jenkins.”
“Good night, Damien.”
Catherine and Ian were both pleased to see their father and detained him for as long as possible with repeated requests for stories and drinks of water. Damien finally insisted they go to sleep, and he left them both snuggled under the covers, with a long candle lit to chase away the gloomy darkness.
Once the children were settled, Damien proceeded to the kitchen and was amazed at the glorious selection of food he discovered neatly arranged in the larder. After helping himself to a large wedge of pear tart that literally melted in his mouth, Damien piled three plates high with food and set them on a tray. He added cutlery, napkins, and a bottle of wine. Then he carried his bounty up to his bedchamber.
Isabella was lying in precisely the same spot on his bed, but as he set their dinner upon the small table near the fire, she awoke.
“I've brought some food,” the earl explained unnecessarily. “Come and eat dinner.”
Isabella sat up warily in the bed, trying desperately to hide her embarrassment. She was lying naked in the earl's bed, her body still warm and sore from the passion they had recently shared, and he was acting as though this were a common, every day occurrence.
Her stomach rumbled from hunger. Scarcely believing she was thinking about food at a time like this, Isabella nevertheless decided that it couldn't hurt to eat something. Since there was no clothing within her grasp, she yanked the sheet off the top of the bed and wrapped it securely around her naked body.
Feeling utterly ridiculous, she joined the earl at the cozy table. Once seated, however, Isabella's embarrassment fled as her appetite took control. They ate dinner in silence, savoring each bite.
“This is truly delicious,” Damien remarked as he finished the last of the pear tart. “Jenkins told me you prepared the entire meal. Where did you ever learn to cook?”
Isabella blushed and lowered her lashes to hide the glow of pleasure she thought was certainly reflected in her eyes.
“After my mother died, I felt terribly lost and lonely. I craved female companionship, but there was no one to give it to me, no aunts or female relations. Actually, we had no women in our household except for our housekeeper, who was also the cook. She wasn't overly fond of little girls, especially me, but I was determined to somehow place myself in her good graces.
“I decided that the fastest way to get her to like me was to pretended to be interested in learning how to cook. Luckily, my plan met with great success. So in addition to receiving some much-needed attention, I learned a rather useful skill.”
“You realize, of course, that you have placed me in a sticky position, Isabella.” Damien's mouth curved in a smile that brought a sparkle to his eyes. “Now that I have tasted your roast beef, I know the only sensible recourse is to sack you as the governess and hire you as my cook.”
“You are nothing but a tease, my lord,” Isabella answered with a laugh. Sobering, she continued. “I truly do not like speaking ill of anyone, but why do you employ Mrs. Amberly? She is a disaster cooking anything more complicated than toast and is surly to boot.”
The earl grew quiet. “I know she is difficult, even impossible at times. The truth, as you may well have guessed already, is that Mrs. Amberly is not trained as a cook. She first came to The Grange as a lady's maid and served my mother for many years.
“She tried to perform the same duties for Emmeline, but since my wife was seldom in residence, there was little to occupy Mrs. Amberly's time. She developed a great fondness for Catherine when she was an infant, so eventually Mrs. Amberly became Catherine's and later Ian's nursemaid.

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