Lessons From a Scarlet Lady (39 page)

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Authors: Emma Wildes

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Lessons From a Scarlet Lady
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Rebecca arched, her erect nipples brushing his chest.
“It feels . . . oh . . . I . . .”
The incoherent answer was exactly what he was looking for, and he knew she was close to climax, both from the deepening color in her lovely face and the frantic clutch of her hands. He deliberately licked her lower lip in a sensuous glide. “Just wait. I think you are almost to the breaking point, my sweet.”
When it came, a cry of surprise and pleasure tore from her throat and perceptible shudders rocked her slender body. Robert watched with heavy-lidded eyes, not sure he wasn’t going to spend himself then and there just from the joy of being the one to give her the first taste of orgasmic bliss.
And he had only just begun.
She wanted a wicked tutorial. This was going to be a match made in heaven, for he certainly qualified as an instructor. He slid upwards, between her still spread legs and positioned himself with his cock just touching her small opening, his smile leisurely though his body was tense as a bowstring, waiting for her to recover enough to open her eyes. Braced on his elbows above her quivering body, he saw her eyelids flutter upward.
“Now,” he said succinctly, “you’re ready.”
“That was . . .” She stopped, and then gave a choked laugh. “I haven’t completed a sentence since we disrobed, have I?”
“A good sign.” Robert moved enough to test the give of her passage, beginning his penetration into her body with slow pressure. “The most pleasurable way on earth to render a woman speechless.”
She realized what he was doing, her eyes widening.
“Like this.” He reached down and lifted her leg so it was bent at the knee, setting her foot down on the bed. “The more open you are, the easier this will be.”
With encouraging alacrity, Rebecca moved to do the same with her other leg, her thighs spread open for his entrance, her gaze holding his with poignant emotion, her smile winsome and remarkably lacking in fear.
I trust you.
Never had he been so careful, so restrained, so consumed with lust he thought he’d combust. When he breached the barrier of her maidenhead and saw the flinch of pain, Robert kissed her then, her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips in slow soft sips to reassure and comfort. “It will get better,” he whispered, “I vow it. Much, much better.”
“I’m not a delicate flower,” Rebecca responded with surprising humor, her grip on his biceps easing. “And just because I love you, it doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to live up to your reputation, Lord Robert. If your virtuosity is so legendary, show me why.”
I love you.
“You say it so easily,” Robert murmured in response, his needy cock urging him to move but emotion holding him still. His voice was raw. “Rebecca, I . . .”
Maybe it was a woman’s intuition, but she knew exactly the right thing to say. “Just show me.” The entreaty was whisper soft.
And when he did, when he moved in her with slow sure strokes until she began to gasp, then moan, and finally cry out, his own pleasure was made more acute by her uninhibited enjoyment until, when the first telling ripple tightened around his thrusting cock, the burst of rapture shook his whole body as he drove deep and lost himself.
In her encircling arms, in her luscious body, in her soul.
Chapter Twenty-two
Misunderstandings are inevitable. They will rise to the surface when you least expect them and confound you both. How you handle the outcome of each one is a measure of your affection for each other.
From the chapter titled: “The Art of the Argument”
 
T
here he was again. It seemed incredible, but she was being followed.
Sure enough, the figure skulked in the doorway of the tobacco shop across the street. Narrowing her eyes, Brianna felt a surge of irritation and unease, wondering if she should report this to the authorities. After all, her husband was a rich man, and if someone wanted to kidnap her, she should be on the alert.
This was the third day in a row she had spotted him, and she was becoming more and more convinced the odd little man in the brown checked cap was trailing her. She’d first seen him when she’d forgotten her reticule in the carriage and had to go back outside in a hurry, almost bumping into him in her haste. It had meant nothing at the time, but then she’d glimpsed him again the next day.
Though he was dressed differently, he’d been there the day after that also. By the third sighting, her curiosity had turned to alarm.
Brianna went back into the shop, asked the wife of the milliner, a stout woman who ran the front part of the establishment, if there was a back exit she could use. Though obviously surprised, the woman directed her to a door at the rear, and accepted some coin to send her clerk outside in an hour or so to instruct Brianna’s driver to take the carriage home. Something about the woman’s expression told Brianna that the vagaries of the rich and titled were to be met with resignation, and Brianna slipped into the alley behind the shop with a feeling of liberation.
She wasn’t sure if her ploy was necessary, but she nurtured a child inside her and that precious life, growing more real as time passed, meant the world. It was prudent to be careful.
It was a pleasant day, if a bit cool, and the sky of cerulean blue above held just the slightest dusting of clouds. When she had gone a good ways down the alley, skirting some very dubious piles of rubbish, Brianna let herself in the back entrance of a tobacco shop, apologized to the startled proprietor, and regained the street.
Arabella lived not too far away, and since the weather was agreeable, it wasn’t a hardship to walk to the Bonham’s townhouse, just off St. James. When she arrived, she was told to her relief Lady Bonham was home. Moments later, she was ushered into an informal sitting room upstairs and her friend rose to greet her. “Bri, how nice of you to call.”
Brianna forced a smile. “I am sorry to just drop in, but it seemed expedient.”
“Expedient?” Arabella motioned her to a chair and frowned. “That’s a curious thing to say.”
Brianna sat down. Though the queasiness was something she’d learned to deal with, she still had an attack now and again. “Could I have perhaps have a very weak cup of tea?”
“Of course.” Arabella reached for the bellpull. “Is it the baby? Good heavens, you’re pale suddenly. Do you need to lie down?”
“A little tea will do the trick,” Brianna assured her. When the beverage arrived, she sipped gratefully, then waited for the nausea to subside. “I’m just a little upset,” she said with a watery smile. “Thank you for being home.”
During her walk, a very unpleasant suspicion had occurred to her, and she needed to talk to
someone
.
Arabella looked concerned. “Whatever is the matter? You don’t look at all like yourself.”
“I am not even sure where to start. Or if I
should
start.”
That made her friend blink. “Please pick a point. You are talking in circles.”
“I don’t mean to, but that rather seems to be my life lately.” Brianna took another drink from her cup and felt fortified enough to set it aside. “I’ve told Colton he and I are going to have a child.”
Arabella nodded in approval. “I can only imagine your husband’s delight.”
“One would think he
would
be delighted.”
The Countess of Bonham frowned. “What does that mean? He’s happy, isn’t he?”
“So he claims.” Brianna turned to look out one of the mullioned windows and fought tears. “He says he is. But I am not so sure. He treats me differently. And now
this
.”
“Whatever do you mean? What
this
?” Arabella asked after a moment.
“I am being followed around. At least I think so. By some horrid little man in a brown hat. I’ve seen him now and then, and really, while in the course of going through life you do encounter coincidences, this does not seem like one at all.”
“I don’t understand.”
Brianna shook her head. “I don’t understand either, but I can tell you it would not surprise me—considering how moody he’s been lately—if Colton has something to do with it. He has asked me the most bizarre questions, and he acts as if he’s glad about the baby, yet
not
glad at the same time. Oh, I am not describing it well, but suffice to say, it has me at a loss as to what to do. Why would my husband have me followed?”
Arabella opened her mouth to respond but just let it hang open for a moment before she snapped it shut. Then she flushed and looked away, squaring her shoulders.
Brianna watched the process with interest, her inner turmoil making her stomach still churn. “What?” she asked flatly with the familiarity of long acquaintance. “If you know something, please tell me.”
“I don’t
know
anything, and I suppose I am not surprised this hasn’t occurred to you because it didn’t to me, but maybe I can venture a guess.” Arabella turned back, looking resolute. “Rebecca gave me the book after she finished it, you know.”
Brianna nodded. There was no need to expound on what
the book
meant.
Lady Rothburg’s Advice.
The
book.
“I still can’t believe we all read it. Our mothers would faint dead away. But—I—oh dear, there’s no delicate way to say it, I—”
“Bella, I adore you, but please just tell me before I scream.”
“I did that thing in chapter ten.”
Chapter ten
. Brianna cast back, recalled what her friend meant, and only barely managed to hold in a gasp. She hadn’t even dared chapter ten, so she fully understood the blush. “I see.”
Arabella rushed on, “It wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as it sounded and—”
“If you do not tell me how you think this pertains to my situation at once, I may lose my mind.” Brianna felt her teeth grind together, her uncertain stomach not helping at all.
“Andrew demanded to know where that idea came from. He was pleased, but not pleased, if you know what I mean.” Arabella sat back, looking resolute despite her pink cheeks.
“No, I don’t, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t worry. Your name was left entirely out of it but I finally had to confess I’d read the book because my husband wouldn’t let the subject go. He was so relieved he wasn’t even angry.”
“Relieved?” Brianna wasn’t following the logic. “Why?”
“His first reaction was to think another man might have given me the idea.”
Brianna was rendered completely speechless. Arabella looked back with sympathy. “I believe my expression was close to what yours is now. I couldn’t fathom how he could jump to such a conclusion. I mean, how
could
Andrew think that? His answer was he couldn’t for a moment imagine how I would dream of doing such an outrageous thing on my own. The trouble is, he was right. I wouldn’t. I didn’t even know women did things like that. Without the book, it wouldn’t ever have occurred to me. Perhaps, if you are being followed and Colton is behind it, he has drawn the same conclusion Andrew did.”
God in heaven, Colton couldn’t really think she was conducting an affair, could he? Brianna sat statue still, her mind whirling, casting back over the past weeks.
He
had
asked after she tried the advice in chapter two where she got such a notion, but she’d evaded the question. Unlike Andrew, Colton wasn’t one to pursue a subject, and he’d let the matter drop.
Then . . . oh dear God, she’d tied him to the bed on his birthday and it was after that, now she thought about it, that everything changed.
You haven’t done anything wrong, my dear. Have you?
The vulnerability in his eyes had struck her—and had there been accusation as well?
Her hand, when she lifted it to brush a tendril of loose hair off her cheek, shook like a leaf in a stiff wind. She dropped it back in her lap and said in an unrecognizable voice, “Upon contemplation, you could be right. Oh, Bella, are all men completely mad?”
“I think so on a regular basis,” her friend said dryly. “Whatever are you going to do?”
“I suppose,” Brianna muttered, “murder is still a crime in England?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Arabella said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Sending an august duke to his just reward would carry a particularly stiff penalty, no matter how thickheaded he might be.”
“It is still tempting.”
“I imagine. I was as outraged as you are now. Well, maybe a little less. Andrew didn’t go so far as to have me followed around.”
Her husband had had her followed. It was inconceivable.
Brianna looked at her friend, straightening in her chair. “I think Colton is about to discover that, unlike him, I am not unwilling to discuss subjects that might be uncomfortable. If you still have the book, I’d like it back, please.”

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