The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (59 page)

She smacked playfully at the arms around her waist and moved to leave the bedroom, but he held her steadfast against him.

“Gideon, I have plans to make. You are a most demanding gentleman. I have less than four days now to plan—”

He cut her off, leaning in to kiss the edge of her ear.

“God, Francine, I am reaching my limit. I had hoped to give you time to recover before—” He sighed heavily and released her with great difficulty, clenching and unclenching his hands.

She turned on him. “The last thing I want from you is time, or distance. The time I want is with you, touching me, and the distance—none.”

“Well,” he said, his passion loosed by her words, “I don’t believe an hour will slow down your progress too terribly.” He moved toward her again.

“An hour?” she replied breathlessly, leaning her head back as she sank against him.

He shrugged. “Well, maybe a bit longer.”

She exhaled, the air drifting across his ear and sending a shiver down his spine, awakening his senses and his need. His hands traveled her form, investigating the rise and fall of her chest with every breath, the goosebumps that rose under his calloused fingers as he drifted over her soft skin. He measured the heartbeat in her neck with his kisses, softly licking and nipping, feeling the tempo increase beneath his smiles.

He drew her back to the bed and sat at the edge, undoing all the ties, buttons, stays, fastens, laces, and binds that kept her from him.

She turned under his attentions, her eyes wide with nerves as her trappings all fell away, landing in a pool of soft, multicolored fabrics at her feet. One hand fluttered to her chest and the other below her waist and he reached for them, pulling them aside slowly.

“I told you never to hide yourself from me.” He lifted her hands, kissing the marks on her wrists, then placed them on his shirt. “Undress me,” he said in a voice which was no more than a pleading whisper. He shook from the effort to slow his movements.

She blushed violently and pulled him up from the bed.

He smiled as he bent his head to her. The kiss warmed, drove, opened, and revived her.

She pulled at his waistband, feeling for the clasp hidden inside, and his hips jerked forward. The tension from his rising erection slowed her progress. Her fingers moved nimbly down the placket and his breath quickened against her hair. Feeling his muscles tightening, she released him and looked up into his face anxiously.

He smiled, patient.

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and he held his hands up as she unhooked the sleeves and tossed the linen to a chair. Her gaze drifted over him before finally resting on his face, searching his expression. Her first time had been in a field of flowers, under the dappled sunlight, like a dream. Now she was here, in his bedchamber—
his bedchamber,
she thought
.

He smiled as she hooked her thumbs in his waistband and pushed his trousers down. He sat again at the edge of the bed and kicked his shoes off while she pulled each pant leg by the ankle, then tossed them aside.

The she was looking at the bed behind him, through him, around him, but never quite
at
him.

He stood again and closed the gap between them.

She shut her eyes, concentrating on the feel of her naked skin against the full, bare length of his. The slightest move sent shivers through his muscles. Her nipples rose to tight peaks as they grazed his chest, and trails of pinpricks spread like wildfire beneath the surface of her skin. Her breath hitched as his fingers traced up the backs of her arms from wrists to shoulders, straightening her spine as they progressed, at last raising her face to meet his kiss.

“Gideon,” she breathed nervously. She looked up into his eyes. “Gideon, I…I am…”

He quieted her by brushing his lips back and forth across hers. “You have naught to fear from me. We will be slow,” he whispered, kissing her lower lip, his hands reaching around her waist. “And I gentle.” He drew her up against him carefully, aligning their bodies to fit together as he turned. He lifted her then, placing her in the center of the large bed, and stood proudly, allowing her perusal.

She watched his breath come and go, his strong arms held at his sides. She could see his willful restraint and it reinforced her desire. She implored him to join her with her eyes, and the bed sank from his weight as he mounted the bed. He crawled over her, kissing his way up from her toes, drawing soft whimpers from her. He lowered himself over her, matched part for part.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered.

“I— I’m just nervous. I guess. I mean. Ahhh.”

“What can I do?” He lifted her hair and spread it across the pillows around her, smoothing it out.

“Just touch me,” she whispered. “Just keep touching me and don’t stop, not ever. Not for a moment.”

“That,” he said softly in her ear, “I can do.” He spread her legs beneath him with one knee. He caressed her nipple, causing her to arch into him. His hand skimmed down her side to her knee, lifting and wrapping her leg around his waist.

“Gideon, slowly. Please, slowly,” she whispered as she was opened to him. She pushed at his shoulders and he shifted over her, making her skin tingle. Her fingers tensed against him as he entered her with painstaking caution. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him and she squirmed. The feel of his skin sliding across hers, his spicy scent, salty taste, the sound of his exertion as he breathed, and the warmth of his breath drifted across her senses.

Gideon groaned as he felt her ease around him, and his momentum increased.

She watched his expressions change, feeling the network of electrical webs spreading then condensing. Her mouth opened wide as she inhaled, over and over, trying to gain more oxygen, her moans turning to screams as the quickening enveloped her.

Gideon urged her on, holding steady and deep, feeling her pulsing flesh drawing his release. He shuddered, his hips thrusting as he cried out, their hearts racing in matched cadence. He rolled swiftly to his back, pulling her with him.

She squeaked at the rushed movement and collapsed on him. He smoothed her hair back from her face, spreading it across her back, then lifted it and blew a stream of air across her warmed skin, drawing goosebumps and making her sigh.

“You have me spent. How do you do that so easily?”

He smiled. “It’s not me, but you. You bring this out of me.”

She smiled shyly, studying him from beneath her long eyelashes. “You simply can’t keep doing this to me.”

He held her tightly. “I can, and I will. And what’s more,
you
will enjoy every minute of it.” He placed a kiss at the tip of her upturned nose.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she whispered, her fingers at her kiss-swollen lips.

Gideon walked into his study to find Perry and Shaw deep in conversation. “Gentlemen,” he acknowledged, reading the story from
Miss Witwick’s Society Pages
again. He laughed and handed the paper to Perry as he sat as his desk. “You may have to send these to us at Eildon after we leave. I’m finding them quite enjoyable.”

Perry stared at his brother, agog.

“Come now, Perry, did you expect me to return to my awful manner so quickly?”

“I really hadn’t considered it.” Perry shifted in his chair and glanced at the paper. “Dashing Duke, heh? Where are they getting this? Why am I not mentioned? Dashing… I’m the younger, handsomer brother. Dastardly Duke would be more like it, or perhaps Asinine, Arrogant Aristocrat? Hmm, mayhap I should write for Miss Witwick, Your Devastatingly Dashing Dukeness.”

Shaw choked on his tea, trying not to laugh as Gideon gave his brother the familiar warning glare.

“There he is! The Dastardly Duke returns,” Perry said with a grin.

“Shaw,” Gideon said, ignoring his brother, “are you prepared to return to Eildon and transform the place into the masterpiece we all know it will be?”

“Yes, of course, Your Gr— Roxleigh,” he finished after Gideon cut him the same warning glance. “I have arranged for all the shipments: fabric, furniture, wood, and other appointments. They are now scheduled to arrive about the same time we will. We have only a month left before the gathering, which has recently become a wedding celebration. Mrs. Weston has assured me that there are enough locals to complete the work, and anything else we may need should be simple to obtain.”

Gideon nodded. “Is the current work on schedule?”

“Yes, I received an update less than a sennight ago.”

“That’s good. I must apologize, though—I wasn’t expecting to return to Eildon so precipitously. I expected that we would be attending a few more social events before returning home. We didn’t get far in our quest with the lovely Lady Alice.”

“Actually, I wasn’t expecting to see her until midsummer, so the fact that I have, and that I was able to spend a wonderful evening
attempting
to be in her company, was certainly worth the effort and the journey.”

Gideon smiled. “Perry, are you ready to move to Westcreek?”

“In truth, Rox, I do not believe I am. In fact, I was hoping to impose on you a bit. Westcreek hasn’t been inhabited for some time, and since the most talented architect in London is otherwise occupied by the Distinguished Duke of Dashingness, I won’t be able to make any changes for at least two months.”

Gideon looked at him with a grin. “Not going to drop it, are you?”

“Not a chance, your Deliberately Debonair Dukeness,” Perry answered as Shaw covered his face with one hand to hide a smile.

“Don’t encourage him, Shaw,” Gideon grunted as he turned again to his brother. “Your intention isn’t to saddle me with your charges, is it? Have you rethought your agreement so soon?”

Perry waved him off. “I rethought my agreement with the Intrepid In-laws the moment I offered it, and every five minutes thereafter. I assume that the life of the Valorous Viscount is to change greatly, for better or worse, but I won’t be the sacrificial lamb for your happiness. That, dear brother, was your job, and though you have vacated the position, I am
not
keen on acquiring it.”

Gideon glared. “No, I wouldn’t wish that on you, Your Valiant Viscountness. Of course, the sisters can come with us, as can you, at any time. I’ll speak with Francine, but I don’t believe she’ll mind. I suppose she wants to get to know them, and we have had a bit of fun recently, haven’t we? However, I must insist the alliterations come to an end.”

“If you insist,” Perry said with a deliberate frown.

Shaw laughed. “So, the Boorish Blue Blood becomes the Dashing Duke,” he said quietly, drawing surprised laughter from the brothers.

“Well done,” Perry said, clapping Shaw on the back as Gideon smiled inwardly behind his scowl.

Francine went to the parlor that afternoon to look over the guest lists and menus for the upcoming ball. She wasn’t at all prepared to plan such a lavish evening, but she had insisted, wanting a project, and since Gideon had given her all the information she needed, she was determined to shine.

When the sisters came in, followed by Miss Faversham, she was happy for the reprieve.

“I thought you might like some help with the preparations,” Miss Faversham said.

“Oh yes, I would definitely like some help.” The ladies sat in the parlor, planning the ball and dinner all that afternoon. The sisters were actually quite adept at making arrangements; she guessed that was part of their education. By the time supper rolled around, they had the majority of the plans complete and the guest list finalized, and the ladies all went to dress for the formal supper that Gideon had arranged in the dining room.

Gideon, Perry, and Shaw gathered in the study before dinner while Francine, Amélie, Maryse, and Miss Faversham gathered in the blue parlor. Sanders knocked and opened the door. “The Dowager Countess of Greensborough and Lady Alice Gracin,” he announced.

Francine stood and greeted them, her arms outstretched. “My lady, how wonderful it is to see you again, Lady Alice, how have you been?” She hugged her, kissing her cheeks.

“Very well, Lady Francine, and you? I am certain the gossip pages are greatly embellishing your tale, but I imagine it was harrowing none the less,” Lady Alice said.