In the Night (15 page)

Sweat beaded on Wynthrope’s upper lip. The need for her release was almost as sharp as the need for his own. He matched the tempo of her hips with his thumb, and when her cries became more and more urgent, the grip on his prick tighter, he increased the pressure.

Her coos and cries became more encouraging, more frequent. When she tossed her head back, her mouth opening in wordless cries of delight, her body clenching at his hand as spasms rolled over her, Wynthrope lost all control. His own neck bowed, his forehead pressed somewhere in the region of her breast as his own climax erupted.

He waited until the stars behind his eyes faded before opening them. Moira had collapsed against him and was watching him with an expression he could only term as bewildered contentment.

Wynthrope knew his smile was one a cat might give after swallowing the canary, but he didn’t care. He was sated and languid and he was smug, damn it. Drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, he handed it to her. No doubt she would want to wipe her hand.

Slowly she returned his smile as she accepted the folded linen. “Well, that was certainly better than the hair comb Minnie gave me.”

Unable to contain his laughter, Wynthrope gathered her to him in a fierce hug. “Indeed. Merry Christmas, Moira.”

She kissed his cheek before snuggling against his chest. “Merry Christmas, Wynthrope.”

T
he following morning, Nathaniel swept into Moira’s breakfast room in a fashionable flurry of coats and scarves. He took one look at her and froze, his mouth dropping open.

“My Lord, you bedded him!”

Thankfully they were alone, or Moira would have been tempted to throttle him. As it was, she leaped to her feet to go shut the door behind him. “For heaven’s sake, Nathaniel! Do lower your voice.”

He seemed unaffected by her reprimand as he tossed his outerwear onto the back of the sofa before sinking into a chair at the table. “You must tell me all about it. Every detail. Was he amazing?”

It was impossible to be angry with him, even though he was impertinent beyond belief. “I did not ‘bed’ him as you so politely put it,” she informed him as she sat down as well.

Nathaniel’s cherubic face took on a dubious countenance. “Something happened. I can tell.”

She frowned and poured him a cup of coffee from the silver pot near her elbow. “You cannot.”

“I can,” he insisted, gesturing at her with his hand. “You have this glow about you.”

Oh dear, now she was starting to blush. She offered him the cup. “I do not.”

“You do. He gave you
la petite mort
, didn’t he?”

Moira wasn’t an experienced woman when it came to sexual matters, but even she knew what the French referred to by “the little death.” She didn’t have to reply, her face felt as though it were on fire, and surely it must have looked just the same.

“He did!” Nathaniel cried with a delighted clap of his hands. “Oh, how I wish Tony was here!”

Mortified beyond belief, Moira stared at him. “If Tony was here, it never would have happened.”

Of course, that didn’t seem to faze him at all. He merely shrugged, as though everyone had extramarital affairs. “It might have. Tony often remarked that he wished you would have an affair.”

“He did?” She lifted her own coffee to her lips and drank, her mind mulling over this new piece of information. Tony had dropped hints, but she always believed them to have been out of guilt, or at the very best, jests.

“Of course he did.” Nathaniel sounded a little put out that she might have thought otherwise. “He wanted you to be happy. It was never his wish that your marriage would be so unfair to you.”

Moira’s brows and shoulders shrugged in unison. “I suppose I took my vows seriously, no matter how insincere they might have been.”

“Not insincere.” Nathaniel patted her hand. “Unconventional.”

Moira smiled. “What a wonderfully polite way to put it.”

Her friend leaned back in his chair, all ease and elegance. “So, are you going to tell me what happened between you and the beautiful Mr. Ryland?”

Make that all
nosy
ease and elegance. “I most certainly am not!”

“Oh come on!” Nathaniel lurched forward, bracing his forearms on the table. “I will tell you what happened between the angelic Matthew and myself.”

It was an interesting proposition. Not only was there a vibrancy about her friend that hadn’t been there for some time, but Moira had long harbored a curiosity about what two men did together, and she did so yearn for someone to talk to about Wynthrope—someone who didn’t know him. Someone who had experience with this sort of thing.

For example, what did what happened between them the night before mean? It had been so very pleasureful, so very intense. Afterward, they had been a little awkward with each other, though he had stayed for another two hours before departing for his own home. And he had kissed her so thoroughly before taking his leave. It had to mean
something
, didn’t it? But what? Did it mean he had feelings for her beyond the sexual?

He could have had her last night. She probably wouldn’t have put up any resistance if he’d tossed her on the floor and had his way with her. Instead he had shown her what he was capable of and backed away. Why? Did he think she was still reluctant? Was he still trying to make her come to him? Hadn’t she done that last night as well?

“He could have taken things further last night,” she confided sotto voce, “but he did not.”

Propping his chin on his hand, Nathaniel made a perfect O with his lips. “How far did he get in the first place?”

Her face burning, Moira took a deep, fortifying breath. “He touched me in places only my hands have known, though not as intimately as his.”

Nathaniel’s blue eyes widened. “No! Did you like it?”

Moira glanced at her feet. This was so embarrassing! “Really, Nathaniel.”

Her friend tossed his hand in the air in a dramatic gesture. “What? If you did not like it then he is not doing it right, and either needs to be taught or is not worth your time.”

She could barely meet his gaze. “I liked it.”

Her confession was met with a rakish grin. “Excellent.” He snatched a bite of ham left over from her breakfast off her plate with his fingers and popped it in his mouth. “And did you reciprocate?”

Good heavens but this conversation was scandalous! Moira had never discussed such things with anyone. Then again, she’d never had such things to discuss.

“Yes.”

Nathaniel practically howled in glee. Moira was tempted to crawl under the table and stay there.

“And did he seem to enjoy it? Do you need some pointers?”

Moira scowled at him. “Yes, he enjoyed it. Well, I think he did. He…he…”

Nathaniel nodded, sparing her further embarrassment. “Ah. I understand. You obviously did it right then.” He thought for a moment. “Course, I’m not sure there is a
wrong
way.”

“Can you teach me?” Moira asked, curiosity overcoming her humiliation. “Can you tell me other things he might like me to do to him?”

Nathaniel’s pale brows shot up on his high forehead. “Well, look who has become a temptress! Of course I will
share what I know with you. Besides appreciating men, I am one myself, you know. And I do know what I like.”

Of that Moira had no doubt.

“But,” her friend amended, “before you go casting your pearls before swine, let me ask you something.”

“Anything.” How could it be worse than anything else he had already asked?

“Do you have any idea how deep Ryland’s regard for you runs?”

She shook her head, touched by his concern. “I’m not certain. We spend many evenings together—sometimes doing nothing but talking. He seems to enjoy my company, and I know he enjoys the…physical aspect of our relationship, but I am not certain of the depth of his attachment, no.”

Nathaniel seemed to consider this. “The fact that he could have bedded you last night but didn’t is a large indication.”

Moira’s heart plummeted. “I take that to mean that he is not very attached at all?”

Now it was he who scowled—scowled at her as if she were the veriest of simpletons. “No, you goose. It is an indication of a great level of attachment.”

That was more of a relief than she cared to admit. “It is?” But wouldn’t greater attachment have forced him onward? That was how she would have acted, but then men were so very difficult to predict.

“Of course it is!” Nathaniel fixed her with a patient stare. “He obviously senses your reticence. Whether you act it or not, you are a virgin, and virgins, like anyone about to experience something new, have a natural reluctance to jump into the unknown. He no doubt wants you to know he is not going to pressure you. He wants to earn your trust.”

How she wanted to believe him! “I must admit, that does make sense.”

“Of course it does. I was terrified my first time.”

Moira’s natural curiosity leaped, but there was time for hearing about Nathaniel’s own experiences later. Right now she wanted his insight into
her
romantic life.

Her earlier embarrassment all but forgotten, she leaned forward. “So you think what happened between us last night was a good thing as far as the development of our relationship is concerned?”

He rolled his eyes. “My dear, you had an amazingly handsome man give you pleasure. What could possibly be bad? Of course, you have given me so little detail…” He allowed his voice to drop off with a naughty grin.

Moira laughed. “I cannot believe you are so interested.”

A scoffing noise cleared his throat. “Who would not be? Not everyone is fortunate enough to have a romantic encounter with one of London’s most eligible bachelors.”

“Who had a romantic encounter with one of London’s most eligible bachelors?” Of course it would be just at that moment that Minerva chose to bound into the room, all youthful exuberance and fresh scrubbed beauty.

Moira’s face flooded with icy heat. Oh yes, underneath the table was looking very good to her right now. Unfortunately, Minnie would probably follow her under the tablecloth.

“It is impolite to eavesdrop,” Moira reminded the younger woman.

Minnie made a face as she seated herself beside Nathaniel. “I was not eavesdropping. I was coming in for breakfast when I heard the two of you talking.” Grabbing a roll from the bowl in the center of the table, she turned her attention to Nathaniel. “So, who are we talking about?”

Nathaniel smiled sweetly. “Wynthrope Ryland.”

Moira could have kicked him, but she probably would have hit Minnie instead. She settled for glaring at him. He ignored her.

Minnie’s dark eyes widened. She cast Nathaniel a con
spiratorial glance. “He
is
one of London’s most eligible bachelors.”

“Divine,” he agreed with a wink. Obviously Nathaniel was almost as at ease with Minnie as he was with Moira. Moira wasn’t certain she liked that. She was used to being the only person who knew Nathaniel’s secret.

Minnie’s smile grew. “I would have a romantic encounter with him any day.”

Nathaniel only nodded in response as they both turned their gazes on Moira. Defiantly, she stared at them both.

“Unfortunately,” Minnie remarked, popping a bit of bun in her mouth. “Wynthrope Ryland chose Moira over me. His loss of course.”

Moira smiled mockingly. “Of course. I am certain he feels it every day as well.”

Minnie’s eyes brightened with mirth. “Moira, how very caustic you can be! Did you know she could be so biting?” she asked Nathaniel.

Her Judas nodded. “She hides it behind that prim and proper exterior, but she has the tongue of a viper, believe me.”

Minnie took another bite of bun, chewed, and swallowed. “The more time I spend with you, Moira, the more I wish I had come to visit you earlier.”

Her words seemed to hit Moira square in the chest, knocking the air from her. “You do?”

The girl nodded. “I thought you were going to be like our sisters.” She wrinkled her nose. “I thought you were going to be like Mama. I’m so very happy that you are not.”

“No,” Moira agreed, a little dazed. “I am nothing like our sisters, or our mother.” In fact, she was nothing like anyone in her family. Odd how she used to think that was a defect in her makeup. When had she realized that it was actually a virtue?

Probably right around the time she started feeling com
fortable in her own skin—when Wynthrope Ryland walked into her life and told her she should eat whatever she wanted.

Her gaze shifted to the bowl of rolls. She loved bread. She could live on bread alone. She wanted bread. She wanted the whole bloody bowl.

She snatched a bun and slathered it with butter. Then she took a huge bite. Oh, it tasted heavenly!

Minnie watched her with an expression of angelic innocence as Moira chewed. “So did you have a romantic encounter with Wynthrope Ryland?”

Moira choked. It took several coughs and a gulp of coffee to ease the bread down her throat. She regarded her sister through watery eyes. “That is none of your business!”

A wide grin split the younger woman’s face. “You did!”

“You two are incorrigible.” Moira wiped her mouth with her serviette.

“Is he a good kisser?” Minnie asked with a dreamy expression. “He looks like he would be. He has a nice mouth.”

“Very shapely,” Nathaniel agreed.

Moira stared at the both of them in openmouthed astonishment before addressing her sister. “What do you know about kissing?”

Minnie rolled her eyes again. It was an annoying skill apparently perfected by those under the age of twenty. “I have been kissed before, Moira.”

“Ooh!” Nathaniel was suddenly sitting upright again. “By who? Anyone I would know?”

Smearing more butter on her roll, Moira took another bite. How had this morning happened? How had this conversation turned into such a farce? This was ridiculous—and way out of her control.

“Adam Westlake,” Minnie informed Nathaniel with a smug smile.

Nathaniel’s expression was suitably impressed.

“Do you think you might marry him?”

It took a minute for Moira to realize that the question was directed at her, but who else would it be meant for when Minnie was the one asking?

“Wynthrope?”

Her sister nodded. “Will you marry him?”

Poor Moira’s already boggled brain could scarcely take any more scrambling. “I…he has not asked. I have no reason to think he ever will.” The admission caused a strangely hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, but it was true. She had known all along that whatever happened between her and Wynthrope would no doubt be nothing more than temporary. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who wanted to settle down.

“Why not?” Minnie demanded.

“Yes,” Nathaniel joined in. “Why not?”

Frustration flared. Had neither of them been listening to her? Did they know nothing?

“Because I have no idea how he feels about me, or for that matter, how I feel about him.” There it was, the whole foolish truth of just how lacking she was when it came to knowing herself, or anyone else.

Minnie shrugged. “The two of you spend enough time together. That must mean something.”

How to explain to her sheltered sister that there was a reason Wynthrope kept coming back? Of course, if intercourse was all he wanted, he could have gotten that already—she knew that for a fact.

“After all,” Minnie continued, picking up another roll. “If all he wanted was someone to warm his bed, he could find that anywhere. He actually seems to
like
spending time with you.”