Never Too Late (14 page)

“What are you thinking about, Nora?” His voice, low and husky, startled her. She thought he’d fallen asleep long ago. He couldn’t read her thoughts, could he?

“I don’t know. I can’t sleep.”

He leaned closer, without touching her, and whispered in her ear, “It’s all right. Everything will be better tomorrow. I will do everything in my power to help you get the store back in order.”

She smiled at his reassurances, amused that he thought she was preoccupied about the store. So much for reading her mind. She thought, dimly, she should be more concerned about the shop, but she wasn’t. And, all at once, she realized she didn’t want him to think of her as a delicate flower to protect. She wanted to fascinate him once more.

She got out of bed. He sat up quickly.

“Nora, where are you going? What’s wrong?”

“Nowhere. Nothing.”

“Then what on earth are you doing?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” With that, she pulled the pins out of her hair and shook it loose around her. Then she gathered the borrowed nightgown and pulled it over her head. She shifted toward the bed and stood there, suddenly hesitant.

“What was that?”

She smirked to herself. Of course, he couldn’t see her in the dark. He must be able to discern the rustling to some degree though.

“These clothes are suffocating me,” she replied. She slipped onto the bed against him and heard his sharp intake of breath when her bare skin slid along his hand.

“You promised you wouldn’t tempt me.” She heard bewildered amusement in his voice.

“I know, but it seems my inhibitions have run away from me.” She pulled his mouth to hers firmly. She kissed him, fully, without reservation, opening her mouth to him and tasting his lips. He pulled his head away, but she moved forward to close the distance again. Her body pressed against his, the rough fabric of his clothing sending little jolts along her skin. Here in the darkness, all the heightened emotions of the day concentrated into this whirlwind of sensations. Just for this moment, she wanted to drown out all her cares, silence her mind’s accounting and planning, and simply feel.

He gently broke contact with her lips. As he put his hands on her bare shoulders, she felt the groan he tried to suppress. He held her at a distance.

“Nora, we cannot do this. You have been through an extremely taxing experience. You do not know what you are doing.”

“On the contrary, Alex.” She punctuated her words with kisses wherever her lips could reach. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Anything I need, you said. Right now, this is what I need. I need to be in your arms. I need to feel your lips on me. I need you.”

He slid away from her, gently lowering her to the bed before stepping away. The resulting chill was as much emotional as physical. His rejection stabbed at her far more than she ever would have expected. She knew there could be nothing lasting between them, but their previous encounters convinced her that he at least desired her. He’d said as much. Granted, she had so little experience with men, but was it possible she’d read him so wrongly? Was he just cavalierly toying with her affection?

“It would be dastardly of me to take advantage of you in this state, Nora.” His low voice carried across the room, likely from the vicinity of the door.

As she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, hot tears flooded them. All the turmoil and horror of the day slammed into her, and it was all she could do to suppress her sobs as tears rolled down her face. Then she heard the muffled sound of furniture sliding along the carpet.

“I promised you I would stay with you this night,” he said from close by. She looked up to find he’d moved an armchair from the seating area to just between the dresser and the bed. “And I will do exactly that. I will keep watch over you and keep you safe. Even from our own wicked ways.” She couldn’t see in the dim light, but she was sure he winked, sure she could hear his eyelashes brush his cheek, even as she ridiculed herself for such an impossible observation.

“Protecting me even from myself,” she said idly as exhaustion took her. “A true gentleman.” As she drifted to sleep, she thought she heard a soft, low lullaby.

She woke screaming, suffocating, tearing at the hands that imprisoned her and kicking with all her might. Shaking violently, she curled her body up against the headboard and stared around the room. It took her a few moments to realize she was awake and the horror she’d been experiencing was just a dream. The room brightened as Alex—oh, thank God, Alex—lit a candle, dispersing the dark and ominous shadows. She couldn’t control the shaking, though.

Standing a few feet away, he eyed her cautiously, as if reluctant to come any closer. It took a long time for her to find her voice. Meanwhile he simply stood guard by her, without touching her, without speaking.

“I was dreaming.”

He nodded. She thought she detected pity in his eyes and resolved not to look at him.

“It was . . . that man. I was back in my bedroom, opening the closet door, and he—” Every word made the memory real, made her skin crawl with the feel of the man’s hands . . . and his knife. “Only this time,” she choked out, “this time you weren’t there. He . . . used me. He hurt me. And fighting back as I had in reality only made him crueler. I still see his eyes just before I hit him with my knee. There was limitless cruelty in those eyes. I thought he was . . . no good . . . but when I saw his eyes, the depth of his evil shocked me.” Her breaths were still ragged and too quick. “I still feel his hands on me, and it makes me want to flay myself alive. I . . . God help me . . . when he touched me, my body responded. Even in terror, I felt my chest . . . tense. I can’t. How could I . . . ?” She looked at him, helpless, still shaking, “What is wrong with me?”

He slowly moved toward the bed, his voice low and steady, as if trying not to startle a cat. “There is nothing wrong with you. The body reacts to extreme danger in unpredictable ways. What you experienced was not pleasure.” He gestured as he reached the bed, asking, “May I sit next to you?”

She nodded exaggeratedly, unsure if a nod could otherwise be distinguished from the uncontrollable vibrations of her body. And she reached out a frantic hand to him. To her immense relief, he clasped her hand in his and sat close to her, though not close enough for his body to touch hers. At the feel of his large, warm hand enveloping hers, her shaking eased to less violent tremors. She put her body full against his, and without releasing her hand, his other arm wrapped around her tight to calm her, to secure her. It was heaven. It was torture. But now that he held her, she never wanted him to let go. Nothing mattered but that he was here, filling her senses with his touch, his voice, his scent.

“Alex . . . I want . . . I need . . .” She couldn’t seem to speak her mind, this woman who was never at a loss for words.

“What is it you need, darling? Whatever you ask, I would not hesitate to fulfill your wishes.” His embracing arm began to rub her back gently.

“I don’t know how to ask . . . I don’t know what to ask!”

“Try. What are you thinking?”

“That man. The dream. I can’t stand it. I want a better memory to replace it with.”

He stilled.

“When you and I . . . in the library at dinner . . .” she began haltingly.

“When we kissed?”

She burrowed her face into his shoulder and nodded. Her words became muffled.

“Yes. When we kissed. That was indescribably wonderful. I want that . . . to banish the other sensations. I want . . . pleasure . . . to replace the fear and revulsion.”

Still, he didn’t move.

“I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do, Alex,” She lifted her head to face him. “Perhaps just a kiss. We don’t have to do anything more, if you don’t want to. Please, I need you.”

He had to laugh. She turned his words neatly against him. Even as the supplicant in this situation, she’d placed him in the role of seduced rather than seducer.

“As you wish.” His lips captured hers, his tongue teasing the seam to open for him. And when her mouth responded in kind, he deepened the kiss, delving into her, licking and nibbling and tasting. She couldn’t control the tiny whimpers that escaped her, nor could she stop her body from undulating against him. Her need expanded exponentially. It engulfed her, drowning all inhibitions.

His mouth left hers and slowly, so slowly, meandered down her throat and along her collarbone, not assuaging her body’s needs in the slightest. One of her hands wove through his hair and nudged him toward her breast, and she moaned and whimpered as his tongue danced along her skin but refused to address the spots clamoring most insistently for his touch. When his lips finally brushed across her peaks—one then the other, just barely touching, she was momentarily embarrassed by her own indecipherable whine.

“God in heaven, please!” Had she really said that aloud?

Only then did he encircle one nipple with his mouth. The exquisite sensations, sharp and electrifying, shot from her scalp to her toes. Back and forth, he lavished attention on her breasts equally, his hands stroking them, shaping them for more effective access. Muscles throughout her body contracted as her back arched toward the source of these unbearably intense jolts of pleasure. The harder he sucked, the more keenly she felt the tension coil and build inside her.

When she cried out at a tiny peak of pleasure, his hands began to roam more freely.

“More,” she demanded.

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and stroked down her back, down her buttocks, until he slid one of her thighs up against him, leaving her womanly folds open to exploration. And explore he did, first stroking her firmly, knowingly.

“More,” she cried as she kissed him hard, trying to mimic the depth of his kisses.

Her body still wanted more. She felt the hot hardness of him through his clothes, glancing against the area made so sensitive by his fingers. She reached down and unerringly grasped him through the fabric. He groaned deep in his throat. Yes, that girth, that firmness was undoubtedly what she needed. When she began to undo his trousers, he quickly finished the job for her, practically ripping his own clothing off and tossing it all on the floor. Surely, that could give her relief from this dizzying spiral of sensations.

He nudged her thighs apart with his knees and raised himself on his arms above her, poised to enter her.

“Are you sure, Nora? Absolutely sure?” he asked, breathing hard. She felt pinned down by him as he looked intensely into her eyes.

“Yes!” she answered. “Please, yes!” She closed her eyes as she felt the energy of his whole body focus into the thrust of his hips.

She was all silken heat. Blinded by the darkness, he was awash with the sound and touch of her.
Please, I need you.
He could not deny her. He felt her, entirely bare and entirely open to him, so consumed and ready. God, but he wanted to fill her to the brim and drive her all the way to ecstasy.

“Are you sure, Nora? Absolutely sure?” he asked, amazed he could even speak. He stared into her eyes, desperate for confirmation that this was a deliberate, conscious decision. That she knew what she was asking of him. And when he heard her cry out, “Yes! Please, yes!” it was all he could do not to explode right then. Instead, he focused all his energy on what she wanted, what she needed. She was hot and wet and more than ready for him. And she needed release.

As he slid home in a single, swift stroke, he met and tore through surprising—shocking—resistance. Her body went rigid, her eyes flew wide open, and she screamed. He immediately withdrew, and her body folded in upon itself, away from him. Befuddled, he stared down at her, unseeing. His hand cupped her cheek, felt the hot tears that streaked the side of her face.
What the bloody hell? How could this be?
Then realization dawned.

“You . . .” he spoke slowly, quietly. “Are you . . . ? Were you . . . ? You had not—?” He took a steadying breath, his hand caressing her cheek. Finally he found the words.

“Your marriage was never consummated?”

She shook her head and then faced away from him.

How was this even possible? How could a man marry this woman and not want to be inside her at the first possible opportunity? Even if it had been a marriage of convenience, consummation was generally an understood requirement for the union to be binding. His mind whirled with questions, while his heart rooted itself to her obvious distress.

“I should have . . .” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean to . . . it didn’t occur to me . . .” She rolled away from him completely and curled her legs up. “I didn’t know what would happen.”

Still recovering himself from the shock, he leaned against her and wrapped his arms around her, dismayed by her stiffness, her defenses.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I would have been . . . gentler. The first time doesn’t have to be so painful, so difficult.”

“It’s my fault. I should have said. It’s never been . . .”

He could still hear in her voice an effort to hold back sobs. He stroked her arm, still puzzled.

“I can tell you the pain is fleeting.”
Gently, man.
He needed to reassure her that this wasn’t the way lovemaking worked. He felt sure that this moment could scar her irrevocably. “The act of love does get better. And, as you’ve already seen, that part of it is just one of many pleasurable activities.” He continued to stroke her arm and then her back and her hair, without pressure, without intent.

Faced with her sphinxlike silence, he said in a low voice, “Come, now, you can’t tell me you’ve never read the infamous
Fanny Hill
? You, of all people.”

She laughed at that, briefly, but with the slightest tinge of bawdy. He liked to make her laugh. He wanted to hear her laugh more.

“No,” she replied with a smile in her voice, “a respectable bookseller, much less a woman, couldn’t possibly carry such a scandalous rag as that. I’d be run out of town. That’s the kind of thing people go to Holywell Street to purchase. . . .” She trailed off, but he couldn’t let her slip back into thoughts of the destroyed shop—or of what had just happened between them. “Why
Fanny Hill
?” she asked.