To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) Page 12

  “Not really,” she replied, her breath warm across his lips. “You told me you’d be here the other day. Besides, the gossip columns make note of the infamous Lady Lavender’s plans and whereabouts every time she is in London.”

  “I see.” But he didn’t see. She’d sought him out then. Had purposefully come here, potentially tarnished her reputation merely to see him. The ache that had established itself in the middle of his chest since meeting her spread like warm honey.

  “I wanted to apologize,” she whispered, lifting the veil on her bonnet. “For interfering.”

  “It’s all right.” Surely she hadn’t come all this way merely for an apology when she could have easily sent him a note. Which meant she either craved the excitement of the gardens, or she craved him. They were silent for a moment, the tension between them almost tangible. “Is that why you’re here?”

  She lowered her gaze, staring at his neck. “I merely wanted to make sure you weren’t angry with me. I… I couldn’t stand knowing I had hurt you.”

  “Of course not.” His heart lurched, his pulse fluttering with hope. He pressed his palm to her velvety smooth cheek, cupping the side of her face. “Eleanor…”

  She lifted her head, her gaze luminous and desperate. But there, deep down, he could see the nervousness, the wariness. The vulnerability practically pulsed from her being. She didn’t want him to hurt her, and God help him, if she fell in love he would.

  “In our business it is not uncommon for clients to become attached.”

  The hazy lust in her eyes cleared instantly. She shoved his hand away and stepped back, as if he had slapped her. Or perhaps she wished to slap him. He’d offended her and he could see that wall she usually carried was being rebuilt brick by brick. Damn him.

  “I don’t wish for you to get your heart broken,” he tried to explain. “I do enjoy your company, but I don’t want you hurt.”

  She released a wry laugh. “James, please, you think too much of our relationship.”

  A lesser man would have been surprised by her blunt comment. But he knew her too well, he had seen her open and vulnerable. Besides, he knew enough about women to know that in some way he’d hurt her pride.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She turned her back to him as if she meant to leave. “You don’t have to worry about me falling for you because I don’t believe in love.”

  Neither did he, so why did her words pain him? “Ellie, you are young, beautiful. Surely—”

  “Surely what?” She spun back around to face him. He’d made her angry, but he’d rather have her angry than hurting. “I’m married. The man is a demon. I don’t have room for a ridiculous and weak emotion like love. I thought to help you, nothing more. Obviously it was a mis—”

  James latched onto her arm and jerked her forward. She didn’t have time to push away. His mouth found hers, capturing her gasp of surprise. It was a quick kiss, a passionate kiss. When he pulled back, they were both gasping for air.

  “We can be friends, can’t we?” he whispered. He didn’t want to let her go, couldn’t seem to remove his hand from her narrow waist. He breathed in her rose scent, feeling as light-headed as a damn virgin on her wedding night.

  “I don’t know, James.” She sounded sad, and he hated when she was sad. “I don’t see how there is any possible way we can have any sort of relationship.”

  She was right, so why didn’t he let her go? Why didn’t he make his way back to Lady Lavender and forget Eleanor? Because he had become obsessed. Because somehow she had clawed her way deep within his soul. Damn his penchant for needing to save people. “I can’t let you go.”

  “Why?” she whispered.

  “Because, Eleanor, you never found what you were looking for.”

  Her delicate brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  He cupped the sides of her face and brushed his lips to hers. “Pleasure, Eleanor. You never found pleasure.” She shivered against him, his words finding their target. He could seduce her so easily. He’d had years and years of training. He knew where to touch, where to kiss, what words to say in order to bring a woman to the peak of pleasure.

  “It’s better, perhaps. Because if I had, I would know what I was missing.” She pushed away from him, stepping back. She looked confused, uncertain. In a defensive gesture that wasn’t lost on him, she crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose this might be the last time I see you.”

  “If that’s true, then this sort of parting won’t do at all.” He gently brushed a curl over her shoulder. “You won’t leave yet. Not until…”

  “Until what?” she whispered.

  “Until you experience what you came for.”

  “James, no!” She drew back until her shoulders pressed into a tall oak. “We can’t. Not here!”

  “’Tis dark, the show is starting, no one will notice.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

  He stepped closer. “But I am.”

  “James—”

  When he kissed her, molding his mouth to hers, he left no room for argument. Blast it, but he just wanted to forget. Forget his past, his future. Thank God, she didn’t protest but fell willingly into him, her lush form pressing intimately to his chest. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He coaxed her mouth open, and when her lips parted on a gasp he made quick work of sweeping his tongue inside. She wasn’t some virginal miss to shy away from passion. When the silky tip of her tongue brushed against his, James growled against her mouth. Their mouths mingled, the kiss so deep he could feel it to his soul.

  Eleanor groaned, a truly erotic sound that sent blood pounding through his body and pooling into his groin. Dear Lord, he wanted her. Wanted her like he had never wanted a woman before. He tore his mouth from hers and pressed his lips to her fragile jawline, then lower to her elegant neck.

  “I will show you what you’ve been missing. I swear it.” If they should never meet again, he was at least determined to do that for her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, tilting her head back, her eyes closed. She leaned trustingly into his body, not afraid, completely and utterly open to him. Her hands slid up his chest, over the fine silk waistcoat under his jacket.

  “You are stunning, you know that?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she repeated.

  He grinned, knowing she hadn’t a clue what he had said. She was too far gone, her need too desperate. His flattery would get him nowhere. Besides, he couldn’t tell her how wonderful she was because she wouldn’t believe him, but he could show her. He found her skirts and bunched the material slowly up her legs. The crinkle of crinoline was lost in the sound of an orchestra playing a jaunty country jingle.

  Her fingers bit into his shoulders, sliding farther up into the strands of hair at the base of his head. “Dear God, you are truly doing this now, here.”

  He didn’t respond, merely slid his hand underneath her skirts. His fingers found her smooth, silky thighs. Startled, he almost drew back. It took a lot to shock him, but the fact that she wore no bloomers nearly brought him to his knees then and there.

  “No undergarments?” he whispered near the shell of her ear.

  “My husband established early on that I was to wear none,” she said, her fingers playing with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. “That way he could have me whenever, wherever he wanted.”

  The thrilling sensation he felt fled. An anger he was finding it hard to control pulsed through his veins. The bastard. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the sudden desire to head to her town home and confront the man. James took in a deep, trembling breath. He could not do anything about her husband, but he could do something for her. He pushed Lord Beckett from his thoughts and focused on Eleanor.

  “God, you smell good,” he said, nuzzling her neck. She trembled in his arms and he found he liked how she reacted to him. Never had a woman needed a more gentle touch than she. Never had a woman needed him more than she did at this moment. He slid his hand up her thi
gh, heading inward toward the intensely silky and sensitive area. Eleanor tightened, her breath coming out in harsh pants that stirred the hair at his temples.

  “Relax, my sweet.” He shifted, sliding his knee between her legs and spreading her thighs. Burning lust surged through his body, hardening his groin so it strained uncomfortably against his trousers. “How badly I want to touch you.”

  “Please, do.”

  He needed no further encouragement. His fingers slid between her silky folds, into that pulsing heat. Eleanor whimpered, her teeth biting erotically into his shoulder. Briefly he wondered if she even knew what she did.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he assured her. “Never.”

  “I know,” she whispered, and he heard the truth in her breathless voice. A truth that humbled him.

  “Hold your skirts.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Hold them.”

  She grabbed the handful of material, clutching it tightly to her chest and exposing long legs clad in white stockings that glowed under the moonlight. He let his hands slide down the soft curve of her thighs to where her garters met her stockings. Another time, another place, and he would have had her on her back as he drove deep within her.

  “James?” she said with uncertainty.

  He gave her a wicked grin, then dropped to his knees. “Part your thighs for me.”

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, sounding slightly horrified. Instead of doing as he demanded, she pressed her legs tightly together. She might be bold and determined young woman, but in the bedchamber she was as innocent as a virgin.

  He didn’t respond, for he knew he’d only horrify her. Instead, he slid his hands between her silky thighs, parting her legs. She tried to squeeze them back together, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Relax, Eleanor.”

  “No, you can’t!” she hissed.

  “I can.” He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to the nest of curls, shielding her femininity. Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath. Dear God, she smelled good… like roses and soap. James closed his eyes as his erection throbbed mercilessly. He tightened his grip on her thighs, attempting to retain control of his own passion. When she sighed in pleasure, he slid his tongue between her damp folds. She tasted of honey, of woman, of desire.

  Eleanor gasped, stiffening.

  But he was far from done. With his tongue, James flicked the sensitive nub that he knew would set her afire. Eleanor groaned, slumping against the tree and grasping the material of her gown closely to her chest. The scent of lilacs, woman, and roses surrounded him, making him almost dizzy with desire. He wanted to stand, to free his erection and sink into her fully, but this wasn’t about him. Not now. He flicked the nub again before slipping his tongue inside her. It was enough for her tightly wound body.

  She squirmed, whimpering. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to,” he whispered against her. “Just enjoy.”

  He parted her legs farther and shoved his tongue into her tight passage. Eleanor cried out, arching her back. The sound of music and merriment hid her cries of delight. The vegetation provided shelter from prying eyes, but he maintained enough rational thought to realize they could be caught at any moment. The problem was he didn’t think he could stop even if the queen herself suddenly appeared.

  “I feel so… so hot. So… achy.” Her entire body trembled. She found the pleasure he had been so desperate to give her and arched her hips, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust. Hearing her moan, feeling her body tighten, was pure agony.

  “So hot, so… so…” He felt her tighten around his mouth. “Oh my.” Eleanor arched her back, crying out as muscles tensed.

  “I can’t take it.” She lifted her hips more urgently.

  “Let go, Eleanor, trust me.”

  She released her skirts, gripping his hair almost painfully as the orgasm exploded through her body and around his tongue. The lingering sweetness of her release drifted away on the cool night breeze. It was over. James pressed a kiss to the inside of her right thigh, then pulled back, her taste still tantalizingly on his mouth. His erection jutted out angrily, demanding release. He ignored the aching need and tugged her skirts down around her legs. Her eyes were closed, her head back against the trunk, her breathing harsh. The bliss upon her face was almost too sweet to bear.

  He pressed his body close to hers. “You are beautiful, brilliant,” he whispered into her hair, breathing in her clean scent. His hands trembled as he cupped the sides of her face.

  She turned her head and molded her mouth to his. “I never knew. I didn’t understand…”

  He tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, charmed by her innocence. She might be older than he, but she was much more sheltered. “That is the way intimacy is supposed to be.”

  “It’s what they talk about, the chambermaids, the married women who giggle behind their fans.”

  She seemed shocked by it all, as if she’d thought the entire thing had been a myth and only now knew it for reality. He nodded. Damn it all, he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to show her more, so much more. If anyone deserved to know pleasure, it was Eleanor.

  She brushed her hand down the side of his face, her piercing gaze on him as if trying to understand what had happened to her. “This is why women risk their reputations, why they visit Lady Lavender’s.”

  He nodded again. There was nothing more to say. There was nothing more to show her. It was over, unfortunately right when it had begun. Slowly, he stepped back. His own body cried out in protest. He ignored the aching need to hold her closer, to find his own release. Now was not the time, perhaps never. He smoothed her skirts down, then picked up her bonnet and placed it over her still neatly coifed hair.

  “Have you never pleasured yourself?” he asked, curious.

  She looked confused. “I don’t understand…” Her eyes suddenly widened and he almost laughed at her shock. The woman had just been brought to orgasm in a public garden, yet the thought of touching her own body horrified her.

  “Oh.” Even in the darkness he swore he could see her blush. She looked away, deeply embarrassed. “I will not answer that.”

  He grinned and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. Hell, he was completely enchanted with her, and for a few moments he’d forgotten his own problems. But reality was slowly tearing down that wall of sexual haze they had created; time was passing quickly.

  She shook her head, lifting her trembling hands to pull her netting back in place. “I just… it’s never been like that. I didn’t know.”

  He brushed back her hair and straightened her bonnet, needing something to do to occupy his thoughts. “You do now.”

  “Yes.” She was staring up at him in awe and confusion, hesitating because he knew she didn’t want to return to her world any more than he wanted to return to his. But she would definitely be missed, and he needed to uncover the truth about Lady Lavender and his family.

  A couple stumbled down the path, their drunken giggles interrupting. James sighed, raking his hair back. “I need to return, as do you.”

  “Yes.”

  Yet they paused. He studied her fine features, realizing with a start that there was something different about her. Something had changed. The hard, cold Eleanor had disappeared. She seemed lost, confused. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, forcing herself to smile. “Yes, we should go.”

  His hands curled as he resisted the urge to pull her close. A mixture of anguish and anger flooded his body. Eleanor stepped back, away from him. She might as well have traveled to another country. It was done. Their time, their relationship… over. For one insane moment he thought about asking her to run away with him. To jump on a boat headed down the Thames and disappear. But no, he had a sister to find, and she had a privileged life to live.

  He brushed aside the low-hanging branches and made sure the path was clear. “Go first.”

  She hesitated, her face unreadable in the shadows. But she was still, s
o very still. “Is this good-bye then?” Her warm breath moved the lace between them and tickled his lips.

  “Perhaps. Or maybe someday we shall meet again.”

  It was a lie, they both knew it, yet neither called it what it was. They would not ruin the moment, most likely their last. The entire world seemed to pause, then she shifted away from him.

  “Thank you, James,” she whispered. “I shall never forget you.”

  Before he could respond she turned and fled. He stepped from the trees, desperately searching for her fleeing form. Empty. If her scent hadn’t clung to his body, her taste on his tongue, he would have thought her a dream. He pressed his hand to his chest, where an aching heaviness that he didn’t quite understand had returned.

  From somewhere to the right a woman giggled, a couple finding their own pleasure amongst the sin. He retraced his steps with wooden legs, walking slowly back toward Lady Lavender. The moment had been pleasurable indeed, but James wanted more. He wanted her alone, for hours, on a large, soft bed.

  “My goodness.” Lady Lavender stared with some amusement at the dirt upon the knees of his trousers. “I see you’ve been busy. A new client, or former?”

  He wanted to make love to Eleanor far, far away from here, away from their responsibilities, away from the lives they knew. He brushed at his knees. She would charge a former client. A new client would get a free sample. He swallowed hard, avoiding her eyes, not because he feared she might see his guilt hovering within the depths, but because he feared she might see disillusioned anger. “New.”

  She drank the sherry someone had purchased for her. “Good. More business.”

  Was that all she cared about? Business? Did she care about anything, anyone other than money? He sat on the stone bench next to her, feeling unsettled, suddenly discontent. It was as if his sensibilities had left with Eleanor.

  They would be returning to the estate in the morning, and part of him was relieved. London had become stifling, confusing, and unfamiliar. His relationship with Eleanor was over; there was no reason to stay. It was best to leave now, before he became even more obsessed. Eleanor was gone. Perhaps his mother had died. But he was determined, no matter what it took, to find out what had happened to his sister, with or without Lady Lavender’s assistance.