Read Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance) Online

Authors: Carolyn Jewel

Tags: #england, #orphan, #music, #marquess, #revolutionary america, #crossdressing woman

Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance) (25 page)

BOOK: Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance)
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Tentatively she ran her hands over Alexander’s
sweat-slickened body. Hard muscles tensed and relaxed under smooth
skin as he touched her in ways that made her quiver. She hadn’t
known he wanted her to touch him until he placed her hands on his
back, and now she could no longer think; she was caught up in wave
after wave of spiraling pleasure. His fingers were probing her and
she cried out his name as she felt as though she were suddenly,
deliriously, falling from an immense height. His breath was warm on
her face and she was relaxed completely when she felt him move over
her, his thighs between hers, hard against her own smooth skin. His
lips brushed hers and then he was kissing her, his chest pressing
her back into the bed. She felt him probing between her parted
thighs, and, because she was aching with unfulfilled need, she was
willing, anxious, to do whatever he demanded of her. She felt she
would do anything and let him do anything. At this moment, she
would have trusted him with her life. She could think of nothing
but him and how often she had dreamed of him whispering her name
and kissing her until she was senseless. Her entire being was
concentrated on this moment, on his hands and lips touching her,
the feel of his body on, over, and next to hers, the texture of his
hair, the taste of him, the sound of his whispered endearments. She
felt his hardness thrusting inside her and she was suddenly and
painfully surprised at the sensation. He continued to push and she
squeezed her eyes shut against a searing pain. She tensed, biting
her lower lip when his hips jerked forward again. At last she could
bear it no more and she tried to make him stop, but he had such a
firm grip on her waist as he pushed once more that she could not
twist away from him. She cried out in pain and then he was filling
her body so intimately that when he cursed at her she could not
keep back the tears crowding behind her tightly shut eyes.

 

The feel of her silken body against his was too
much; he could wait no longer. He shifted until he was on top of
the smooth, sleek figure moving under him so that he half-thought
he might erupt just from the pleasure of it. She was so completely
relaxed when he parted her thighs and began to slide himself into
her that he was surprised at how awkward she was at helping him to
accomplish it. When he met resistance his desire was so
overpowering that he did not realize he was the first with her
until he had thrust once more. And then it was too late. He was
inside her before her cry of pain could stop him. “Bloody hell!” he
heard himself say. He was dimly aware he had ruined her, but right
now, when he was so close to fulfillment with a woman he had wanted
for such an achingly long time, it never occurred to him to stop.
“Hush, love,” he whispered, tasting salty tears when he kissed her
cheek. “I promise you, I won’t hurt you anymore.” He cursed again,
but this time it was from the quivering pleasure of moving inside
her. She was hot and slick and so damnably and enticingly tight
around him that he felt his world quickly narrowing to just that
one area of joining. The thought that she was a virgin and that he
ought to be gentle completely left him as an overpowering passion
began to take over his body, and he wanted nothing except what
their joined flesh promised him. His kiss was one of possession
until he felt the beginning of a shuddering climax. Involuntarily,
he hoarsely repeated her name. There was nothing but him and her
and his aching, pulsing inches of flesh demanding to be satisfied.
When the torment consuming him finally ended in a shattering
release of his entire being into her, his fingers dug into her
shoulders until at last he could lie, breathless but quiet, on her
bewitching body.

 

Isobel lay tense and sobbing when Alexander cursed
at her. The heady exhilaration was gone. He had hurt her and she
was not inclined to believe him when he told her it would not hurt
anymore. She felt his lips brush her cheeks and then he was cursing
again and moving inside her. He kissed her, taking her lips with a
tenderness that almost made her forget the pain. His head was bent
over hers, and when she heard the passion in his voice as he called
out her name, she opened her eyes. A thrill went through her when
she saw the intensity of his expression. His lips were parted in a
panting curve and she saw him catch his lower lip between his teeth
and then heard him groan. “Oh, my love,” he said with a hoarse
sigh. She looked between them and saw his ridged abdomen rising and
falling against her belly. The pain was forgotten, fading into the
back of her mind as he took her head between his hands and kissed
her again. His lips found her shoulder and she felt his teeth on
her, gentle. He threw back his head and then his eyes opened and he
looked at her while he moved in her. His hands gripped her
shoulders and she could not look away from the vulnerable passion
she saw in him. Then his fingers were tightening on her and she
felt his body shuddering and she held him close while he cried out
her name.


Ah, Isobel,” he murmured as he
moved off her and lay beside her. After a moment he turned her
tear- streaked face to him. “Wait,” he said, getting up from the
bed. He made his way to the water basin. Taking a towel lying next
to it, he wet it and cleaned himself off. He wet it again and went
back to the bed and gently wiped away the blood staining her
thighs. “I never thought—I did not expect to be the first,” he
said, at a momentary loss for words when he began to appreciate the
consequences his rashness might have for the both of them. “I could
not stop.” He shook his head. “I should have once I knew you
were…”—a pause— “…but, my God! I was mad for you!” As he looked
into her darkened eyes, he thought to himself it would be sheer
folly to continue with her. He took her hand. “You should have told
me. I would never—” He stopped because he found he could not say
what he knew to be an untruth. “What have we done?” He shook his
head when she sat up. He leaned forward, intending only to kiss her
cheek, but instead he groaned as his arms went around her and he
buried his face in her hair. “Isobel, no,” he said roughly when he
felt her hands on his thighs. He pushed her away and lay back on
the bed, willing his body not to respond to her touch. Surely, he
told himself he had imagined the sensations she had aroused in him.
She was nothing more than an infuriating young girl whose naïveté
and willfulness had momentarily made him forget thirty-one years of
good breeding. He tensed when he felt her hand on his belly, but
her lightly brushing fingers sent shivers through him. She bent to
kiss him, and even though he knew he should push her away, the
flesh of her waist curved so deliriously to slim flanks that he
opened his mouth under the gentle pressure of her lips to let her
slip her tongue inside, to let her kiss him passionately, touching
all the surfaces of his mouth. He felt himself responding to her
caresses and he almost pulled her back when she put her hands on
his chest and pushed away from him.


It excites me to touch you this
way,” she said as her hands moved caressingly over him. “I want to
touch you….” She kissed his nipples, running her hands over his
arms. The effect was electrifying. He closed his eyes as she softly
kissed his face, then traded light fingers down the ridges of his
smooth, muscled chest. “I want to know all of you.” She kissed his
stomach and moved down to his legs. She kissed the insides of his
thighs and he no longer wanted to stop her. Her lips were searching
for and finding every sensitive area of his body. He could no more
have stopped her than he could have stopped breathing. She began to
kiss his belly, sliding down to kiss his hardening member, and when
her mouth slid over him, he groaned. She looked up, her face
darkened by shadows.


Don’t stop!” he gasped, and
pushed her head back down. She pressed her lips to him and as she
ran her tongue down the length of him he reached down and tangled
his fingers in her hair. He felt her take him in her mouth and he
groaned again, pressing her head down. Her tongue was wet and hot
on him, sliding around him, and her hands on him brought him to a
shivering climax. He cradled her in his arms, slowly stroking the
smooth curves of her. He forgot the short moment ago when he had
promised himself he would not touch her again. Now, though, he was
not so desperate for her that he could not take the time to make
her desperate for him. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her
breasts, and slowly moved down to the junction between her legs and
began to kiss her there, using his tongue as she had used hers on
him moments ago. She cried out when his hands stroked her, and as
soon as he felt her release, he pulled himself up and trailed
kisses back up to her parted lips. “You are mine,” he whispered as
he slowly entered her, eyes fixed on the face that had been
haunting his dreams. She wrapped her arms around him and her breath
began to come in pants and it was hot on his cheek and he was
caught up in the moment, lost in the whirling storm of passion she
was creating in him. This time, their bodies sought each other,
fitting together with a perfect sweetness that took his breath
away. He propped himself up on his elbows, just above her
shoulders, his hips moving, thrusting, and he was filling her,
sliding, pushing into her deeper and deeper. She was throbbing
around him and he found himself swept up in a burst of ecstasy that
ended only in an abandonment so intense he barely heard their cries
of passion as he felt his seed empty into the body moving so
exquisitely beneath his.

Isobel clung to his slick shoulders, feeling his
muscles bunching and relaxing, and then she could think no more,
could only cry out when she felt herself swirling, fluttering,
searching for something only his body could give her. With her arms
tightened around him, she heard him urging her on, dimly, telling
her to give herself to him. And she did, in waves of crashing
pleasure, until they were both breathless and consumed by it.

Later, he heard her whisper his name. Her voice was
shy and he pulled her close because he wanted to have her next to
him.


Yes, love?” he said into her
hair, breathing in its sweet fragrance.


Are you sorry…about
this?”


My own, it should never have
happened,” he said. But he was not sorry. No doubt it would have
been better if they hadn’t, but he half thought their joining was
inevitable. Now that it had finally happened, it would be possible
to get her out of his thoughts and dreams and return to his
formerly peaceful life. He kissed her shoulder and pulled the
covers over their sated bodies.


I’m not sorry,” she
murmured.

Chapter 19

 

 

I

For several long sleepy moments when Alexander awoke
the next morning he believed he was in his rooms at Arlington
Street and that the woman next to him was Angelica Vincent. Pulling
her against him, he savored his impression of a night well spent.
He buried his face in her hair and kissed the back of her neck
while his hands began a slow exploration of her body. Through the
grogginess of what had been a deep sleep penetrated only the
observation that Angelica seemed to have lost weight. His lips
moved down to the top of her shoulder and his tongue made a lazy
circle on her warm skin. He heard her moan softly and felt a
rounded derriere press against him. He opened his eyes just enough
to see by the dock across the room that it was going on five
o’clock. The room was bathed in a dim light, creating a soft golden
aura around the pale hair spread out over the pillow. It took only
a minute or two for his sleep-heavy mind to register that he was
not at Arlington Street and that the woman in his arms was not
Angelica Vincent. His recollection of exactly how he had spent the
night and with whom he had spent it was suddenly painfully dear. It
was, of course, impossible to comfort himself with the thought that
she had known exactly what she was doing. He frowned when he
remembered some of the things he had said to her. He vaguely
remembered meaning every word at the time. He shook her
shoulder.


Are you awake?” he questioned
softly. The servants would be up soon, and if he didn’t get her
into her own bed, there was going to be hell to pay. He hoped to
God she wasn’t going to make a scene. He shook her again and
prepared himself for the worst.


I’m awake,” she said, turning to
face him.

He was touched by the uncertainty he saw in her eyes
and he reached between them to take her hand and bring it to his
lips. He breathed a sigh of relief to see she obviously intended to
follow his lead. “How’s your arm?” He suppressed the sudden tender
urge he had to embrace her and tell her she was beautiful, no
matter how true it was.

“’
Tis a little sore,” she said
softly.

The makeshift bandage had long ago slipped off and
he was glad to see no signs of redness about the wound. Really, it
was not so very deep. “You’d better get dressed,” he finally
whispered, still holding her hand. “I’ve no doubt the servants
expect to find you in your own bed.” He was sorry when she took her
hand away and sat up to swing her feet off the bed. He spoke
quietly as she gathered her clothes. “You know, of course, your
father’s fondest wish is for there to be a match between us.” He
looked away from the disturbing sight of her, taking refuge in his
sharp words. “It so happens, I don’t care for blondes, no matter
how rich they are. I only hope to God I do not have to marry you
after all.”


Be quiet, sir, and help me! My
arm’s too sore to button these damned things.”

BOOK: Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance)
3.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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