Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (103 page)

She sat up, grasped the garment with both hands, and pulled it over her head.

“Oh, sweetheart!” He traced his fingers languidly over the curve of one breast. He leaned forward and kissed it, carefully. He pushed her down and lay her back on his pillows, and then he went lower and lower, kissing her as he went, her breasts, her nipples, the curve just under her breasts, her smooth flat stomach. She could feel his breath on her skin as he went down until he found the place he really wanted to kiss. Somehow, she knew exactly what he would do, and how it would make her feel. She shivered with delight and fear.

“Michael,” she whispered, as he moved his tongue in warm wet circles, making her long for whatever he could give. Sweet sensations sent her wild with desire. She surrendered to the feel of his tongue laving against her body, arousing her, exciting her, pushing her on toward the possibility of delicious pleasure. But then he stopped.

“Michael, please!” she murmured.

He lifted his head and spoke. “I could pleasure you like this,” he said in a soft, seductive tone, “but wouldn’t you like me inside you?” She knew that he longed to be inside her above all else. She was scared. She had no idea what it would involve or what he was capable of. But she longed to please him.

He continued to look deep in her eyes. How could she deny him? How could she deny herself? She hesitated. Burning with a mixture of desire and fear.

“Are you sure I won’t get in the family way?” she said.

“I’m pretty sure,” he said. There was so much regret in his voice that she wished she hadn’t mentioned it, for his sake. It must be painful to be reminded of what he had lost, but heavens, she knew what it meant to bear a child out of wedlock and she couldn’t go through that again.

“Look, Katie, you need to know the truth, if we’re going to go ahead and do this. As you can see, I get aroused, just like any other man,” he said, softly. “Especially with you in my arms. But … ”

He hesitated, so she waited, patiently, until he was ready to tell her the rest.

He couldn’t look into her eyes. He seemed to have to force himself to say the words out loud. “The doctors told me that I might still be able to give a woman pleasure as long as she takes the active role, but I am most unlikely to be able to father a child.”

“Does that mean you won’t … enjoy it?” Katie said.

“I used to think so. But looking at you now, all I keep thinking is how much I want to be inside you, even if I can’t feel it in the same way. It would please me to please you, my darling, if you will only agree to try.”

“I would do anything for you, you know that.”

He smiled, and stroked her face. “Thank you. You’ll be wonderful.”

They changed places. He moved deftly to lay back on the pillows again, and she knelt beside him. She could feel her heart thumping at what she had promised to do. Her legs trembled as she moved gingerly until she was sitting astride him.

“You look fantastic from down here, you know.” His hands went straight for her breasts.

Katie blushed to the roots of her hair. “You look good from up here, too.”

He smiled. He wasted no time; he left her breasts and went lower, his long slender fingers slipping down between her thighs. He found the right place; he parted her gently and positioned the tip of his erection there between her legs. All she had to do was let her body slide down upon it, taking him inside, inch by inch.

She obeyed her instincts and lowered her body down to meet his.

She was completely unprepared for the sweet sensation that filled her as she let him in. “Michael! Oh, can you feel that?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice rich with happiness. His blue eyes darkened with passion, now that they were coupled fully and completely.

Katie had no idea if he could really feel it in the same way that she did, or if he only felt it in his heart and in his mind. But her pleasure was so real and so strong that it was almost unbearable. He was guiding her with his hands, urging her to move, but she needed no guidance now. She rocked her body against his, and gave in to it. This feeling was too powerful to resist. Every move she made seemed to please him, and her confidence rose and swelled.

All sense of modesty was gone. She held onto his arms, her fingers digging into his biceps. Her hair streamed forward as she bucked her body against him again and again. Each thrust was slick and sweet because she was so wet. He moaned in pure delight, and she rode on into the arms of ecstasy.

“What can you feel, Michael?” she cried out.

“Your perfect body,” he said. His hands roamed over her, hungry and desperate. “My God, Katie, come now. I want you to come now!”

So, she came crashing down, rippling against him, and their bodies joined together in one last frantic moment. He held her as if he would never let her go, and the feeling poured out over them both.

She was breathless from the exertion. The explosion of pleasure had been so intense, so exhilarating. But as it ebbed away, she was worried. She hoped she’d done it right. She hoped she hadn’t hurt him, and that he wasn’t shocked she had turned into a wild, crazy girl in his arms. She saw that his face was wet with tears, and a pang of love went straight through her. “Was that what you were expecting?”

“It was perfect.” He pulled her close and shed more tears, long gasping sobs of relief.

Katie cradled him while he wept. She waited patiently, stroking his honey-gold hair, while he let go of everything he had lost and held tightly onto what he had found.

Chapter Twenty-Three

All through breakfast, Michael couldn’t help turning to look at her, wanting to take any opportunity to drink in the sight of her again. Her face was pink, and her long auburn curls were still wet from the bath. She looked exceptionally pretty, he thought, but he was bound to think that after what they had shared. She had been glorious this morning — all her hot, sweet curves pressed against him, her long hair tumbling down over her breasts, and her lips bending down to meet his.

This wonderful girl had given him the sweetest night of his whole life, but she was embarrassed about it, that much was clear. She seemed especially anxious not to meet Mrs. Jessop’s eye. She turned away from the housekeeper to put the kettle on, and met Michael’s eye instead. She colored up innocently as if she were still a modest little convent girl. She lowered her lashes, and ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them. Oh, when he thought of what she could do with those luscious lips of hers, and that tongue! Michael felt the familiar thrill of desire snaking through his body once more.

“Why do you keep staring at her, Mister Lord?” Bob wanted to know.

“Was I?” Michael replied, with mild surprise.

“Yes, you was,” George confirmed.

“Somebody pass me the paper then,” Michael suggested, “so I’ve got something to take my mind off Miss Rafferty.”

“Mister Lord? Are you in love with Katie?” Alfie asked outright.

Love.
Michael felt a strange pang when he heard the word and glanced up to see how Katie had reacted. She glanced down at her feet and her cheeks went even pinker than before.
They had made love, but were they in love?

He adored her, but he had no right to claim her as his own. She deserved more than he could give. She loved children, he knew that, and sooner or later she would want to try for a family again. He wouldn’t deny her that. Was that love?

Michael reached out and took her hand, refusing to let her pull away. He drew her nearer, to stand right beside him.

“Yes,” he said, kissing the inside of her wrist, where her skin was very soft and sensitive. “Yes, I believe I am.”

After a long, pregnant pause, two people got up and left the room. One of them was Mrs. Jessop and the other was Roy.

“Oh, sir,” Katie said, “you’re full of nonsense. Now look what you’ve done.”

“Jessop’s a prude,” Michael said, “and Roy’s still smarting because he’s not old enough to woo you himself. They’ll calm down eventually.”

“We don’t mind if you love Katie,” Alfie said, acting as spokesman for the twins, who just kept staring from Katie to Michael and back again in curious amazement.

“This is not to be discussed in the school playground, do you understand me?” Katie said.

• • •

Later, when the children had gone to school, Katie laid out a tray of tea and delivered it to Michael’s study, where he was working at his desk. He stopped what he was doing and kissed her hand.

“I think I should offer to adopt Roy,” he said.

Katie couldn’t quite believe she’d heard him right.

“I ought to adopt the boy. His Aunt Madge has sent me a rather unpleasant letter saying she doesn’t want him back, and he hasn’t any other family as far as we know. None willing or able to take him in and look after him properly.”

“It’s a kind thought, but this is Roy we’re talking about. If it were Alfie or the twins, I’d understand. Bob adores you and George looks up to you. Alfie worms his way into everyone’s heart. But Roy? Are you mad?”

“Probably,” Michael agreed, ruefully. “But it’s what needs to be done, Katie. Someone has to take responsibility for him. Where will he go after the war?”

“You aren’t even old enough to be Roy’s father,” Katie murmured, as if it mattered.

“Katie, I am Roy’s father — the only one he’s ever had — and he takes notice of me now. He’s even picking up my accent.”

“They all are. Alfie’s the worst. He sounds like a proper little toff, and Bob’s getting a debutante’s drawl. If this war goes on much longer we’ll be sending them back to London sounding like the landed gentry.”

“Roy won’t be going back, if he agrees to this. He’ll stay on here with me.”

“Will he inherit?” Katie said curiously, the question out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

“I have no idea. I’ll discuss it with my lawyer. That’s not the point anyway. The boy needs stability.”

They both paused for a moment. The very thought of surly old Roy taking Michael’s place in the House of Lords one day was enough to boggle the mind.

Michael glanced up at her. “I wanted to ask you what you thought of the idea before I made the arrangements.”

Katie knelt beside the wheelchair, and took Michael’s hand. “I think you are the most kind-hearted, generous man I ever met,” she said.

• • •

In the weeks that followed, they made love every chance they got. Sometimes when they were alone in his four-poster bed, they would join together side by side and he would kiss her neck and whisper words of love. He couldn’t love her the way he wanted to, but she would rock her hips against him very gently, and he enjoyed watching her experiencing all the sweet sensations his body gave her.

Some nights that was all it took, especially if he slipped his hand down between their warm bodies to press the trigger, as he called it. Her climax was always long and vocal, and he reveled in it. Her sweet moans of womanly pleasure delighted him. He would let her cry out his name while he brushed away the tangle of red hair from her face and placed gentle kisses on her lips and cheeks.

Most of the time, though, she took the lead. She’d sit astride and drive him wild with her hot, sweet moves. He would lie back and enjoy the show. He loved watching her come again and again, enjoying the way her legs trembled when the passion was almost too much for her. She was like a butterfly, fluttering over nectar.

Since that first time together, he had come alive. The leaden heart he had carried around before was gone. He felt happy all day long, and nothing was a burden any more. He was up early every day, tackling the problems that dogged the farm, getting out into the fields to see the crops for himself, ordering Hammond around, and directing the action. He felt strong and useful again — after all, he was feeding Britain.

It was August, and he was busier than he had ever been with the harvest underway. He came in from the fields about four. He rolled his chair up the ramp that led directly into the kitchen and called out to her, but there was no reply.

“Katie! I’m home!”

There was silence.

She wasn’t in the scullery. She wasn’t in the corridor.

“What’s for dinner, darling, I’m starving,” he tried again. Michael realized he sounded like a husband, but he banished that thought. That avenue was much too difficult to explore just at the moment.

“Where are you?”

He pushed open the door of the front reception room, the room they never used. And there she was, seated primly on one of the uncomfortable Louis the Fourteenth chairs.

“What the devil are you doing in here, darling?”

He rolled into the room, and all became clear. Katie was entertaining some unexpected visitors.

The man wore important-looking ecclesiastical robes. The nun wore a black gown with a white headdress and the second woman was dressed like every other middle-aged lady in wartime: A-line skirt, sensible short-sleeved blouse, large brown handbag, gas mask at her side. The visitors were drinking tea, and they looked very sour and very prim when Michael appeared.

“Michael, this is Monsignor Delaney,” Katie explained, “Sister St. Paul, and Mrs. Bernadette Brown, who runs a home for fallen women.”

Holy cow!
Michael stared at the trio of people who had invaded his home with undisguised irritation.
Busybodies and troublemakers, and they are almost certain to upset Katie.
He suppressed the next blasphemous phrase that was on his lips, and uttered one word. “Charmed.”

“We have been alerted to Miss Rafferty’s situation by her mother,” announced the Monsignor, placing his teacup down on its saucer with reverent care. “She has received troubling news from a Mr. Tom O’Brien, your lordship.”

Michael’s heart sank.

“It appears that her daughter’s role here as nursemaid to four children has changed, and not for the better,” said the Monsignor, gravely. “One might even go so far as to say that Katie’s mortal soul is in danger.”

Michael would have laughed if the mood in the room had not been so desperately somber. It was obvious Katie was mortified by the visit. The girl almost convulsed with shame when the Monsignor got out the letter and passed it across so that Michael could have a look.