In the Widow’s Bed (7 page)

“I’d wondered where you’d both gotten too. Shall we rejoin the party?”

Phoebe hesitated. As much as she should rejoin the party, she didn’t want to. With no real role to play, and Lizzy headed for her bed, the stupidity of the house guests already grated on her nerves. “I believe I will retire.”

Selwood nodded. “Well then, goodnight, my lady. Pleasant dreams.”

The earl offered her a lopsided smile then sauntered off towards the drawing room. Her heart gave an odd little hitch as he disappeared from view. The ladies in the drawing room would be extremely happy to see him return. She didn’t want to imagine how Lady Jocelyn would react.
 

Phoebe shook her head at the jealousy curling through her belly. She didn’t own Selwood. Not at all. He could make love to whomever he liked and probably would. She dragged herself up the long flight of stairs and down the hall to her bedchamber. While her maid undressed her and put away her jewels, she tried not to picture Lady Jocelyn batting her eyelashes or tempting the insatiable Lord Selwood with her young body.

But it was no use. Even as she threw herself into bed, thumping the pillow for good measure, she wondered and worried about where he’d spend the night.

CHAPTER SIX

How long must he remain here in this chattering drawing room before he could escape to Lady Warminster’s arms?
 

By now his lover should be dressed for bed—or undressed if Jonathan was very lucky—and alone in her bedchamber. He wondered what kind of reception he’d receive. Despite the fact that Phoebe’s nipples were noticeably hard beneath her gown during the interminable meal, Jonathan had remained on his best behavior. Keeping his hands down, and away from the delectable orbs displayed so enticingly to his gaze, had taken considerable concentration on his part. He’d probably made mind numbingly boring conversation during the whole of the meal. But he meant to prove his worth outside the bedchamber too.
 

Finding Phoebe alone with his sister, however, had dimmed his lust. Lizzy’s discomfort had turned his thoughts to wonder what Warminster had planned for his sister instead.
 

Jonathan winced. He probably should have taken advantage of the darkness to cozy up to Phoebe. Would she fear he’d suddenly grown cold? As he’d walked away it occurred to him that he should have at least touched her, made plans to meet between her sheets again that night. But then Warminster had spotted his entrance and waved him over to his discussion. He couldn’t have gone running to his lover without drawing unwanted attention to himself.

Besides, Phoebe was committed to a clandestine affair, and until he changed her mind he would do all in his power to let her have her way. But the truth wouldn’t hide forever. With him sharing her bed, and planning to share it every night of this tedious house party, a servant was bound to gossip about the rumpled state of Phoebe’s bed. Warminster might well hear of their liaison well before Jonathan could break the news.

Lady Jocelyn tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t you think so, my lord?”

The way she said ‘my lord’ set Jonathan’s teeth on edge. Although he’d previously found much to admire in Lady Jocelyn’s flirtatious manner, Jonathan couldn’t dredge up much enthusiasm for the chit anymore. Despite her fluttering lashes and encouraging hands, he had lost his enthusiasm for her completely. She appeared quite silly and indecisive. Two traits that irritated him immensely.

He hoped she could handle rejection because he quite frankly preferred Lady Warminster’s company. Phoebe had an easy way about her, intelligent conversation, and a wicked sense of humor that she tried valiantly to hide from everyone. The fact that she let down her guard with him to reveal her true nature pleased him.
 

“I say, Selwood, are you at all with us?” Warminster stared at him with an odd expression, one brow raised in query, amusement tugging his lips.

Jonathan dragged himself back to the moment. “Forgive me, I cannot seem to help woolgathering tonight,” he mumbled.

Warminster clapped a stunning blow to his shoulder. “Perhaps you should retire. We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to shoot a man and not the pigeons we’re after, eh. I’ll keep an eye on Miss Elizabeth for you.”

Jonathan grinned. “Lizzy and Lady Warminster retired at the same moment.”

“Oh, has she?” Warminster’s jaw clenched.
 

Lady Jocelyn glanced at Warminster sharply, a frown working over her features. She smiled suddenly, but it didn’t seem sincere. “I’m sure we shall find ample amusements for the evening.”

When Warminster smiled at Lady Jocelyn in return, Jonathan realized he’d cleared the field for his friend to have Lady Jocelyn’s full attention. Well, good luck to him. He had far richer pastures to cultivate. “Goodnight then.”

Jonathan spun on his heel and strode from the drawing room. It took some effort, but he managed
not
to run up the long flights of stairs leading to his bedchamber. When he had the door shut and locked behind his back, he collapsed against it. He ached to touch Lady Warminster again, so much so that his hands trembled as he stripped by moonlight, but he made sure his activities were loud enough to be heard in the next chamber. He wasn’t quite sure if Phoebe would come to him again, yet he didn’t want to test whether the door connecting their bedchamber’s remained locked against him.

Last night it had been locked and he’d had to use the main door, risking discovery by Warminster or a guest. Tonight?

Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. Damn it all. He would never learn the truth if he didn’t at least try. Slowly, he crossed the room until he stood before the solid oak door. The knob was cool to the touch. He tightened his grip and turned his wrist.

Unlocked.

A smile burst from his lips as the door glided open silently. He glanced into the darkness within. Had she left the door open willingly or merely forgotten to lock it against him? He took a pace into the room and stopped. Moonlight gave the chamber an eerie quality and he gulped at the deep silence. Was she even here at all?

He took another step, turning so he could see the bed fully. His pent breath rushed from his lungs. A lump lay under the covers and while he stared, Phoebe’s legs shifted restlessly. He approached the wide bed, pulse pounding loud in his ears. Phoebe shifted again, sitting up as he neared and he crawled onto the bed to kiss her. His lady didn’t resist him. She opened to him, letting him take her desire to mingle with his. Her hands plowed through his hair, tugging him tight against her as he teased her tongue, breathed her scent, and vowed to hear her beg for him before the night was through.

Phoebe fell to the mattress, dragging him with her as she went. He fumbled with the covers until their bare skin slid against each other. The hard points of her nipples grazed his chest, dragging a groan from her lungs. She was so tiny in comparison, small, delicate and soft where he was hard. Yet she clutched at him with ravenous enjoyment, slid her fingers over his back and sides as she urged him to cover her with his body.

The temptation to plunder, to dominate overwhelmed him. Yet he wouldn’t rush the moment. He hovered over her, keeping their hips apart while he kissed her as he’d wanted to all through dinner.
 

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he whispered when their lips parted.

Phoebe’s hand skimmed over his side, curling downward to capture his cock. “Thank you.”
 

Jonathan grabbed her wandering hand and pressed it to the mattress. “What I really wanted to do was toss you up on the table before me, tug the gown below your breasts, and shape them with my hands.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m told smooth polished wood feels wonderful upon the skin. Have you ever made love upon a dining room table?”

Phoebe pressed her free hand over her face. “No,” she squeaked.
 

Jonathan dragged her fingers to his mouth and pressed kisses to each knuckle. When he slipped them into his mouth and sucked, Phoebe squirmed. He released them with a contented sign. “I’d love to see you spread over my dining table, legs wide as I sit between your thighs. You’re all the meal I would want.”

He fell to the mattress, lying on his side so he could touch his lover with ease. Her thigh slipped over his and he urged her closer by tickling between her legs.

Phoebe’s hips thrust toward his hand so he dug a little deeper, slicking his fingers in her abundant moisture. Her hips arched as he invaded. “Have you been teasing yourself without me here to watch you? Tsk, tsk. I might have to spank you for that.”

Her hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed. “If you try to spank me I’ll banish you from my bed.” Phoebe began a lazy stroke, sliding her soft hand over him in maddening passes.

Jonathan inserted two fingers deep in her body, and then slowly fucked her with them. When she was gasping, burying his fingers deeper to increase her own pleasure he leaned close to her ear. “Many women get excited when they’re spanked. Don’t discount it until you try.”

Phoebe tightened her grip. “You believe you’re the only one skilled at seduction, don’t you? Take your fingers out of me.”

Reluctantly, Jonathan complied. He’d never force his desires on a woman, and if she didn’t like what he did then he’d certainly stop. When she moved and her hair skimmed his chest he gasped aloud.
 

Beautiful Lady Warminster, intelligent and highly aroused, climbed to her knees above him. As she pried his stiff length up from his belly and lowered her head to taste him, Jonathan anticipated soft kisses. His thickness prevented many women from taking him into their mouth, yet Phoebe persevered until she had his head nestled between her lips. The warmth from her wicked tongue as it skimmed over his skin dragged a gasp from him. Not many women wanted this, to pleasure a man so intimately. Yet the delighted hum, and fevered attention, proved Phoebe wasn’t prudish in the least.
 

Jonathan settled against the pillows, delighted by the revelation. Given her adventurousness tonight, he wondered if there was anything she
wouldn’t
do. With luck, and her agreement, they’d have plenty of time for experimentation.
 

Phoebe wriggled on her knees, swaying her bottom enticingly. Jonathan couldn’t help but lay his palm over her skin and then raise it to deliver a stinging slap. Teeth clamped over his cock, not alarmingly firm, just hard enough to thicken him. Jonathan growled as he smoothed his palm over where he’d struck and when Phoebe’s jaw unclenched, he slapped her bottom again.
 

His cock popped from her mouth as she moaned. “Damn you.”

Jonathan dragged her up his body so they touched from chest to thigh then widened her legs until she was open for him. “You liked that. Don’t deny you’re not wetter because of those slaps.”

With a bit of juggling, Jonathan pressed the head of his cock to her opening, using his fingers to ease the way. Wet heat enveloped him as he nudged in an inch. Phoebe shuddered and then reared back, taking most of him into her with one smooth movement. The tight heat made his bollocks tingle, but he’d never wished for brighter light more. He wanted to see her bare skin, see his hands resting upon her thighs, and his cock invading her body.

Phoebe attempted to rise higher above him, but he didn’t want to lose the connection to her skin. He rolled them to their sides, drawing her thigh over his. When he bent his head to capture her lips, Phoebe eagerly pushed her tongue into his mouth. Together they gripped and slipped, fucking slowly as they explored wherever they could reach. Jonathan massaged her rear and noticed Phoebe had tensed. He waited for her to relax again before he smacked her delectable arse. Phoebe shuddered and pinched his nipples hard.

The unexpected pain took his control. Jonathan slammed into her again and again, battering his way deeper, clutching her tight as the pleasure took over. Phoebe clawed at him until they were pasted together by their slick skin. He set his lips to the smooth curve of her throat and suckled as her fingers pierced the skin on his back.

When Phoebe’s back arched, body tensing from a release that shook the bed, Jonathan followed, pumping his seed deep within her, losing himself in the bliss of perfect passion. Phoebe breathed raggedly as he raised his lips from her neck. Her hands caught and clutched his head, forcing his gaze to hers. “Don’t you dare do that to me again. You might have killed me.”

Jonathan raised a brow, amused by her reaction. “Nonsense. A little death never hurt anyone.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The mirror didn’t lie.
 

No matter how hard Phoebe peered into her looking glass, the evidence was right before her eyes, and before anyone else who glanced at her neck for that matter. Phoebe turned her head to stare at the incriminating imperfection on her skin. Selwood must have lost his mind completely to put her in such a position. She frowned as her fingers skimmed over the mark. How was she to hide something so vivid?
 

She couldn’t wear her hair down all day - that would cause no end of problems. She could attempt to feign illness and remain in her room. But the bruise could take several days to fade and she couldn’t hide forever.
 

She needed something to cover it. Phoebe wrenched open her dresser draw and fumbled through the contents. Lotions, perfumes, and sweet-scented soaps. But nothing to hide her problem. The door creaked and Phoebe rushed to draw her long hair forward over her shoulder, hiding the mark from her maid’s prying eyes.