Sinful Confessions (10 page)

In
one savage moment, he rent her gown apart. Viola released a squeal but couldn’t
ignore the pulsing throb between her thighs. He rotated her and tugged down her
gown, revealing her low corset and bare shoulders.

“Forgive
me,” he murmured, though he didn’t sound terribly contrite.

She
helped him shove her skirts from her hips and with the same brisk movement, he
had her corset and under things wrenched from her. A chill whispered over her
skin and her nipples peaked. In only her stockings and slippers, she felt
decadent and wanton in the most beautiful way.

Not
for one moment did this feel sordid. Nor did she feel ruined. From the way his
gaze roamed her to how his chest rose and fell with deep breaths made her feel
treasured and valuable.

Julian’s
upper lip lifted in a slight growl—a sort of masculine movement that set her
knees trembling. It was as though she was the most succulent meal on the table
and he had not eaten for weeks. And, oh how she wanted to be devoured by him.

She
kicked off her slippers and peeled down her stockings, aware of him watching
her every movement while he unbuttoned his pants. By the time she had stripped,
he was standing naked in front of her. She might have giggled at his impatience
had his expression not been so dark and dangerous.

Without
giving her time to think, he was upon her. Hard against soft. Crushing her to
him, consuming her. His kisses stole her mind. They stole her sanity. He
hitched her leg up onto his hip and pressed her back against the bookcase.
Shelves dug into her back but she didn’t care. The heat of his body eased away
any discomfort, and the harried touch of his hands quickly made her forget.

Julian
thrust his manhood against her open quim. She bit back a cry. Never had she
wanted anything so badly in her life. Not even marriage to an English lord.

“Please,”
she begged.

He
hitched her leg higher and pressed kisses to her neck. His hips rocked forward
again but still his arousal only teased her.

“Damn
it.”

Julian
lifted her, drawing her legs around his hips and she thought he might take her
like that, pressing her back against the hard wood. At the same time as hoping
he didn’t, she wanted him inside her so much that she would have been willing
to accept any discomfort.

However,
he carried her over to the fire and laid her down on her stomach on the soft
Persian rug in front of it.

“I’ve
been wanting to see this arse for so long...” he said before pressing his body
over hers.

The
rug tickled her breasts and stomach and his hot body covered her like a
blanket. He eased up her hips just a fraction, shifted her legs apart and
rested his hands over the back of hers. Their fingers entwined as he took the
first lunge. He took her quickly but gently. She gasped as he filled her and
his grip on her hands tightened. The fabric beneath her teased her folds.
Julian’s breaths blew harshly in her ear. He whispered her name and other
endearments. He groaned while he thrust. Thrust, thrust, thrust. All she could
do was lie there and accept his love-making with little tilts of her hips.

And
it was perfection. He took her body and claimed it with every inch of his.
Before long, a sweet buzz grew in her core. With every movement, the intensity
increased until she shivered from head to toe.

“Yes,”
he said, encouragingly. “Yes, Viola.”

She
clamped her fingers tight around his and scrunched her eyes shut. The pulse of
him inside her and the strength of him on top of her threw her over the edge.
She held her breath—in fact forgot to breathe—as the throb of ecstasy ebbed
through her. When she opened her eyes and took in lungfuls of air, she saw the
tension in his hands, the way the veins in the back of them stood out. He gave
a harsh groan and withdrew, spilling onto her bottom.

Nothing
about Julian had been the way she’d expected it to be. Not from the way he
dressed to the way he made love. But she did not mind that one bit.

Afterward, they lay in the flickering
light of the fire for what might have been hours. Julian didn’t care. He could
lie with her forever. He watched the way the reflection of the flames danced
about her skin, casting it into a beautiful golden colour. Viola Thompson was
worth more than gold, more than jewels. He had likely loved her from her first
letter but now there was no doubting it.

He
skimmed a hand down her shoulder and side before drawing up the blanket he had
stolen from one of the chairs. She twisted to lie on her front on the rug and
moved her head to face him. With one hand tucked under her face, she looked
entirely too charming. He longed to run his fingers through her mussed hair,
skim his hands up and down her body and find her sweet, wet heat so he could
bring her more pleasure. For surely that was all Viola Thompson deserved. All
the pleasure in the world.

It
shouldn’t have happened. Making love to Viola had been a mistake. Yet how could
he regret such a thing? For the first time in a long time, he felt alive. In
fact, simply spending time in her company did that to him. And look at her. She
glowed. Not just from the light of the fire. He hoped he had gone some way to
convincing her she wasn’t ruined or unwanted. Hell, if the hot arousal coursing
through him at the sight of her bare back was anything to go by, she was very
much wanted.

Julian
pressed away some auburn locks from her shoulders and propped himself up on an
elbow to trace circles on her back. He followed the bumps of her spine and
pressed down the blankets to skim a fingertip over the hollows above her rear.
The slight curve of her bottom peeked out and his mouth watered.

“That
tickles,” she protested.

He
stopped for a moment before trailing a path back up. “I cannot resist touching
you.”

“You
don’t have to.” She gave him a satisfied smile.

“I
should have resisted.”

“Why?”

He
shrugged. “I forget now.”

Viola
laughed. “Then don’t.”

“Viola,
I...” Words clogged in his throat. He shouldn’t say it. He wasn’t sure he knew
how to anyway. It would complicate things, give her hope. But it was also
important for her to know how much he cared for her. He did not want her
leaving him, thinking he had done this out of simple lust or believing she wasn’t
worth anything.

“What
is it?”

“I...”
He drew in a breath and stared at her creamy back.

“Why
do you not write it?”

He
stared at her. “Write it?”

“Yes,
you always express yourself so well in letters.”

“Well...
I...” Yes, she was right. He always had been better with the written word, even
as a boy. But to now he felt a fool. He turned his focus back to her beautiful
skin and the way it warmed his fingertip. “Dear Viola,” he began, tracing the
words on her back and feeling idiotic.

She
simply gave a small sound of satisfaction and watched him as he wrote his
letter.

“You
will never know how much your letters have come to mean to me. In my darkest
hours, you were there, shining a light. Like an angel, you saved me from many a
grim moment.” He continued to trace the swirling letters on her skin and noted
the way the rise and fall of her body increased as her breaths grew heavier. “I
have little to offer a woman. Yes, I have riches and a title, but I am not a
man of soft words or actions. I have a temper and I am set in my ways. If I was
a better man, a different man, I would offer you the world. But, for the
moment, I must tell you...” His mouth grew dry.

“Yes?”
she prompted.

“I
must tell you that no man has ever loved a woman like I love you.” She made a
little
oh
sound but he didn’t dare look at her. “You carry me through
every day. If I could, I would spend the rest of my days on my knees
worshipping you. For me, you are like air, like water. I cannot survive without
you.” He finally gave in and looked at her. Tears sparkled in her eyes. He sank
down beside her, skimmed a tear from her face and kissed her cheek. “Just know
that you are loved,” he told her softly. “Whatever happens in your life, know
that.”

She
nodded and drew in a noisy breath. “As are you.”

Julian’s
chest felt fit to burst. At that moment, nothing mattered but that. He would
hold onto that, treasure it, nurture it. Even if she got married and stopped
writing to him, he would remember that and that would be what would take him
through the rest of his days.

“Come
here,” he murmured, coaxing her onto her side and then over to straddle him. He
gazed at her sweet breasts and raised a hand to cup them both.

Earlier
had been too frantic. He had not had the chance to appreciate her fully. But
now was that chance. He circled her breast, feeling the weight of it before
rolling her tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her startled inhalation
made him grin. Around and around, he played his finger, drawing it into an even
tighter nub. Then he coaxed her forward and took that bud into his mouth,
drawing it in with his tongue. She wound her hands into his hair and moaned.

He
turned his attention to her other breast, then back to the other. Back and
forth, left and right. He tasted her until she wriggled against him. Her wet
heat made him clench his jaw, but he had to savour this. He would not give into
the animalistic instinct that begged him to grip her hips and ram himself up
into her. Viola would be leaving him soon, and he had to make the most of her.

When
he pressed her back, he let his gaze linger on her pert breasts as her hair
left little auburn trails over her porcelain skin. Julian turned his attention
to the apex of her thighs and brushed a thumb through the curls there. She
closed her eyes, her lashes fanning against her skin. Bloody hell, he’d never
seen anything like it.

She
moved into his touch, released a low breath that he should not have been able
to hear over the crackle of the fire. But he did. He was aware of everything
about her from the way her body ebbed and flowed with his touches to how her
skin pimpled when he brushed just so at her sensitive folds.

He
took the time to touch her, watch her movements, learn about her body. Then,
with his hands to her rear, he coaxed her forward and touched his tongue to her
centre.

“Julian—”

He
cut off her strangled protest with a strong lick and she relaxed into him. He
held her there with strong licks, tiny nibbles and gentle kisses to the insides
of her thighs. When he shifted back to her core, she moved with him and cries
fell from her lips.

While
he tried to be patient, his arousal throbbed desperately for release. As she
began to chant his name, his restraint broke and he shifted her down to thrust
up inside her. He took her in one smooth motion and watched her eyes widen.
Julian did not think he could ever get used to being inside her. For him, it
would always consume him. The sensation was too like that of a meeting of
souls.

Viola
moved her hips in circles in an experimental manner and he gritted his teeth. “Lord
Almighty,” he hissed, grasping said hips.

Taking
control, he showed her how to move atop him. From this position, he got to
watch himself enter her. The sweet sensation bubbling through his veins turned
to fire. He felt as though he were a steam train simply waiting to unleash all its
power and might.

She
picked up speed and Julian gave himself up to his impatience. She was too hot,
too tight, too beautiful. How could a man be expected to control himself around
such a woman?

“Oh,
Julian,” she panted.

He
thrust and thrust and gripped her hips until she tensed about him and collapsed
forward. With her body pulsing around him, he eased her off and onto the rug.
Joining them again, Julian plunged mindlessly into her. There, on the rug, in
his favourite room, he let the bliss carry him over until he spilled onto her
stomach. She gazed up at him and their gazes connected at the last important moment
before his orgasm consumed his body. At that moment, he knew he’d love her
forever.

Viola groaned. Her body ached all over
and something pinned her down. She drew open one eye and groaned again. Thick
streams of light shimmered into the room and hurt her eyes. She flung an arm
over her face and peered out from underneath it. The prickle beneath her
reminded her that she lay on a rug. The strong arm across her belly made her
recall who lay next to her.

And
exactly what they had done last night.

He
loved her. She drew away her arm and eyed him. His hair lay slightly across his
face which was scrunched against the rug. Viola grimaced. A rug was all very
well for making love on but not for sleeping on. Who could blame her though?
Julian had thoroughly claimed her body. She ached a little there too but in the
most pleasant way.

Squinting
at the mantel clock, she tried to decipher the time but could not tell what
hand was where. When she tried to push Julian’s arm away from her, he grumbled.
It really was an adorable sound. The temptation to stay and watch him sleep was
great but what if someone came in and found them like this? Admittedly the
scandal probably wouldn’t follow her to New York but she still didn’t wish to
suffer the embarrassment.

New
York. It seemed a world away from this house in the country. Yes, she missed
running water and warm rooms. She wasn’t too sure she liked the creaking sounds
the old house made at night and it really did seem to rain a lot in England.
But none of that mattered when she was with Julian or out roaming the
countryside. Even when it rained, she wanted to run about in the open fields
and climb over trees and explore ruins. She couldn’t do any of that in New
York.

However,
Julian had not made her an offer. Would he? After all, he loved her. He spoke
with such passion yesterday. Could he really send her away? She didn’t wish to
leave. She would marry him in an instant, she knew that for certain. But he’d
talked of her writing to him. That meant he wished her to leave, did it not?

The
sound of hooves on the gravel outside made her scowl. She pushed his arm again.
“I think there’s a visitor.”

“What?”
He lifted his head and gazed sleepily at her.

Viola
fought the desire to pull him down for a kiss. No doubt a marquess wouldn’t
much like to be thought of as adorable but he really was. “Julian, there’s
someone outside.”

There
was no doubting it now. She heard voices and the sound of carriage wheels.

He
lifted his head again, kissed her and pressed up to sitting. “Fine, I shall see
who it is. It’s probably only a delivery.” Then, gloriously naked, he strode
over to the window.

Viola
bit her lip as she eyed the taut roundness of his backside. She wished she had
been able to take more time to appreciate it last night. Still, if she could
persuade him he wanted her around, she could take all the time in the world to
enjoy it.

He
peered through the curtains and the muscles in his back stiffed. “Damn it.”

“What
is it?”

He
faced her, his expression grim. “My mother.”

She
felt her eyes widen. Ice water ran through her veins. Julian had spoke a little
of his mother and her exacting standards.  And here she was, naked, in a
blanket. What a way to meet the woman she hoped to make her mother-in-law.

“Oh
no.”

She
scanned the room for her clothes. Her skirts remained in a puddle on the floor
and her undergarments had been flung to the winds. Scrabbling to her feet, she
found her bloomers and tugged them on. Julian did the same, drawing on his pants
and stuffing his bare feet into his shoes. She discovered her corset hanging
off a ladder and groaned. There was no way she could put it in time and he had
damaged most of the lacing.

“Leave
it,” he said. “There’s no time.” He looked out of the window. “She’s entered
the house now.”

“Oh
Lord.” Viola scrambled into the rest of her undergarments and flung the corset
aside. She stepped into her petticoats and skirt and dragged the heavy dress
up. Oh no. He’d ripped that too. How could she have forgotten?

A
commanding female voice echoed through the house and her palms grew clammy. The
dress would stay on well enough but if she turned, it would be clear that it
was not laced properly. Not to mention how crumpled it was. And her hair. Oh,
dear Lord, her hair.

She
rummaged through it in search of pins and darted a glance at Julian. He had his
shirt and waistcoat on and was frantically doing up the buttons. He looked
presentable—at least more so than her. She found a couple of stray pins still
left in her hair and managed to pin up a few strands to keep it back from her
face.

“Julian,”
she motioned to her back, “my dress.”

He
glanced at it and grimaced. Footsteps cracked down the hallway outside and her
heart ricocheted in time with it.

“It’s
too late now. Come here.” He motioned for her to stand at his side and he put a
protective arm around her. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

The
door opened to reveal an elegant woman in a beautifully cut jacket and skirt.
Stripes elongated her, making her seem taller and the raise of her chin enhanced
the impervious air. Her dark hair which was streaked with a little grey was set
off perfectly by the deep red of her clothing. Viola had never felt more small
or dishevelled in her life.

A
dark eyebrow rose as she eyed them both. She could see where Julian got his
looks from. Even at her age, she was stunning.

“Mother,”
Julian greeted. “I did not think you would be back for another month.”

“The
weather was grim and Lady Fothergill’s chest did not take well to it so we
decided to return.” Her gaze ran over Viola and Julian’s grip on her tightened.

Grateful
for the warm strength of his arm around her, she leaned into him. His mother’s
gaze narrowed.

“Will
you not introduce us, Julian?”

“Of
course. Mother, this is Miss Viola Thompson. Viola, this is my mother Lady
Lockwood.”

“A
pleasure, my lady.” Viola dipped, aware of her dress gaping at the back.

“You
are American.” The statement near dripped with ice. The eyebrow that had
remained lifted the entire time inched a little higher.

“I
am, my lady. From New York.”

“Viola
has come to see the sights, Mother,” he put in.          

“What
sights could she possibly see in the library?” The woman waved a hand. “Julian,
I need to speak with you.” She gave Viola a pointed look.

How
could she sneak past the woman without revealing her back? Panic clutched tight
at her chest. Could this experience be any worse? All that needed to happen now
was for her dress to fall completely from her and the humiliation would be
complete.

“So
soon?” Julian asked. “Would you not like to take a cup of tea first? You have
had a long journey.”

“Now,
Julian,” his mother barked.

He
gave her waist a little squeeze and released her. “While you are here, will you
not look at this?” He indicated to a letter on his desk.

Lady
Lockwood moved over, giving Viola the chance to slide sideways without
revealing her back. She murmured her farewell and gave a tiny dip before
hastening away while Julian distracted his mother. Her gaze fell on her corset,
hanging from a tall candelabra. Oh no. She snatched it quickly, gave Julian one
last look and scurried out of the door.

Once
in the safety of the hall, she paused and pressed her back to the wall. Lady
Lockwood’s disapproval of her could not be any clearer. Perhaps it was that she
had caught her in a compromising position or that she was American. She
suspected both. Viola recognised the way his mother had said
American
.
As though it were a dirty word. She probably could have been English and titled
and been completely naked and won more approval.

That
didn’t matter though, did it?

“Who
is
that woman?” she heard his mother ask. Viola rolled her eyes at her
tone.

“Miss
Viola Thompson, Mother,” Julian told her. “I told you only a moment ago.”

She
had to cover her mouth to prevent herself from snorting at his deliberately
patronising tone.

“I
am not senile, my boy, I remember her name perfectly well. But why is she here
and how do you know her?”

“She
is the daughter of a business associate. She came here to—”

“See
the sights, yes I know,” his mother said impatiently. “But why is she here? In
the house?” Viola could practically hear her eyes narrowing to slits. “You are
not continuing on with her are you? It’s bad enough that you refuse to find
yourself a wife. Do not tell me you are having an affair with an
American
.”

There
it was again. That bitter tone. As though she were nothing more than an insect.
Viola let her lips curl in annoyance. She could not very well confront the
marchioness but it took all her effort to remain still.

“I
am not having an affair with her,” Julian replied steadily.

Well,
she supposed he couldn’t really tell her they had been making love on the rug
only a few hours ago.

“She
is no one.”

No
one.
The words rattled
like gunshot in her head. No one. Was she really no one to him? Had all her hopes
been shattered once again? She pressed a hand to her chest as a great ache
began to throb in it. Her throat grew tight.

“Good.
I’d hate to see you waste your time on a girl like that. These American women
have no grace and manners, Julian. Half of them are very free with their
favours.”

Viola
didn’t remain to hear the rest. Listening to such vitriol and being unable to
respond made her want to scream and rage at the same time as double over in
agony. She had proved herself to be a fool again, had she not? Hoping for
something that would not happen. If his mother couldn’t accept her, no one else
in England would.

She
hastened up the stairs and flung herself on the bed. Tears burned her eyes and
she let them fall, soaking into her pillow. If she had been less hurt by Julian’s
dismissal of her, perhaps she would have stood up to the old woman. Who was she
to cast aspersions on her character? The problem was, she was right. Viola did
not have much grace and didn’t understand English etiquette. No matter how many
books she read on the matter, she wasn’t sure she could ever conquer her free
tongue. And she wasn’t so sure she wanted to now. Not if it meant behaving like
the marchioness or those women at the ball and the castle. She would rather be
a crass American than a bitter Englishwoman.

Swiping
her eyes, she pushed herself to sitting. Once again, she began to pack. This
time she would not be persuaded otherwise. Julian would not coax her to stay
with his humble apologies. Nothing could convince her she belonged here.

Except
perhaps an admission of love and a proposal.

She
smirked at herself. She really was a fool. That would not happen.