To Please A Lady (The Seduction Series) Page 18

  “I think I like being in control.”

  Aye, she did. Eleanor drew her fingers back up his legs. He focused on her breasts, those gleaming ivory orbs with the rose-tipped nipples begging for his touch. The woman was pure perfection. He wanted to feel the weight of her breasts against his palms, wanted to kiss, suck each nipple until she was squirming, begging him to ease the tension.

  It was a job. It had always merely been a job. He’d justified what he did by telling himself he was not only helping his family, but also giving pleasure to the clients who visited. But hell, for once he was selfish. For once he could admit he wanted her… wanted Eleanor for himself. Wanted her to ease the heavy ache in his loins, only her.

  “I think I would like to touch you now, James.”

  He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting for self-control. When her warm fingers wrapped around his cock he could no longer hold back. His hips lifted, his cry almost painful. She was killing him, and he would die willingly. The entire world spun, tilting off its axis.

  She slid her warm grip down his shaft. “I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have you so fully inside of me. Completely.”

  “Please,” he gasped. “You are torturing me.”

  Her startled gaze met his. “Am I?”

  “Yes,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

  The dark haze that swept over her gaze had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. He might want her, but she wanted him as well.

  “I should not wish that.” She settled her thighs on either side of him.

  Every muscle in his body strained. He wondered if she was wet and aching, aching as much as he ached for her. He tightened his hold on the cravat wrapped around his wrists, resisting the urge to snap the material. When she gripped his erection and centered her body over him, he thought he might break the damn headboard. Slowly, she lowered herself. The thickened tip of his cock slipped between her wet folds, pressing into the entrance of her sheath. An erotic flush of desire climbed across her chest and up her neck as a gasp of surprised delight parted her lips.

  “Oh my,” she moaned, sinking fully atop him.

  James didn’t dare move, but savored the feel of her surrounding him. When she lowered her body, her hardened nipples brushing against his chest, heated desire shot to his groin, making him even harder, if possible.

  “Ellie,” he gasped. “I’m trying really hard not to move, but if you don’t soon, I swear to God I might have to break this bed merely to get to you.”

  “Well,” she whispered, “we can’t have that, can we?” She rested her hands on either side of his shoulders and leaned over him, rocking her hips, taking him deeper. Her lush mouth parted on a gasp of sheer pleasure. She was utterly beautiful. He’d known her only for weeks, yet James felt closer to Eleanor than he’d felt to anyone. How he wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and draw her close to him, to breathe in her essence, to taste her salty skin.

  “James?” she whispered, her breath warm across his ear. The weight of her body against his was almost his undoing. He lifted his hips, surging into her heat. The woman was completely open with him, giving James her everything.

  “Yes?”

  “I want you to hold me. I want you to touch me.”

  “Thank God.” The words he’d been waiting to hear, the words he hoped to hear. He jerked on the cravat. The knot came loose easily, sliding free of the headboard.

  She gasped in outrage. “My knot!”

  He grinned. “Ellie, my love, you’ll never be a sailor.”

  She paused, settled atop him, a crease of confusion between her brows. Half her hair had fallen down around her shoulders, swaying across her breasts every time she rocked forward. “You could have escaped at any moment?”

  “Yes.” His hands ran down her smooth back, toward her lovely bottom.

  A myriad of emotions raced through her brilliant sapphire eyes. “But you didn’t?”

  He knew what she was thinking… she wasn’t sure if she should be annoyed with him for fooling her or touched that he had held back. He gripped her lush bottom, pulling her closer, deeper, touching her everywhere he’d dreamt of touching her since they’d first met. In a mere month, a bloody month, she had turned his world upside down. She had destroyed his calm, rational life.

  She groaned, his deception forgotten as they moved together as one, rocking in a rhythm they found naturally. As she surged forward, he lifted, until they came together like the waves of the ocean, crashing, merging. Hell, he wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. He only knew he needed to feel her release as much as he needed to feel his own.

  “Come for me, Eleanor.”

  “Yes,” she groaned.

  Her entire body tightened around him, her sheath trembling against his cock. It was too much. James could hold back no more. His world exploded into a burst of white-hot pulsing joy. He’d never come inside a woman without a French sheath to cover him, and even then very rarely. But Eleanor sucked him dry. His wet seed pulsed into her body as she cried out, finding her own sweet release.

  She collapsed atop him, their bodies slick with sweat. James slid his hands up her back and into her hair, gripping the strands as if that could keep her with him. For a long, long while they merely lay together, their legs and arms entangled, her face resting on his shoulder, and her harsh breath tickling his skin. This is what her marriage should have been. This is what his life could have been… nights spent with a woman he… no, he would not even allow himself to love her. But he cared, good God, he cared. He’d wanted her with an intensity that he wouldn’t have thought possible, could barely breathe when she was gone.

  “You should be cherished,” he said gruffly.

  She was silent for a moment. “At one time I thought I would be.”

  He drew his hands down her silky smooth back. “You will be now, in this moment, forever with me.”

  She was quiet for a long moment, and he desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. The fire was dying, the windows open, allowing a cool afternoon breeze to flutter the curtains. Her sleek skin was growing chilled under his hands. James pulled the satin green coverlet over her. If only they could stay this way forever.

  “Will there be others today?” she whispered.

  His hands paused at her back. “No. She does not overwhelm us. Usually only one a day.”

  “But tomorrow,” she whispered, her voice catching in a telling way.

  He closed his eyes, not wanting answer, not wanting to think about tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Dear God, how would he go on? How could he let her go back to her demon of a husband? How could he possibly see other women? He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, unable to let go.

  “Perhaps I can gather money of my own,” she said, her lips brushing against his chest as she pressed a warm kiss to the skin.

  Despair, humiliation, and anger overwhelmed him. He didn’t want her money. His hands flattened to her back as he tried to retain control of his emotions. Damn it all, he wanted to be a man and provide for his family on his own, provide for her so she didn’t have to rely upon that bastard of a husband.

  “If I gathered enough money, perhaps I could… put you up somewhere.”

  He sighed. “And if your husband uncovered the truth?”

  She didn’t respond, but she didn’t need to. Lord Beckett would kill her, and most likely he’d try to kill James. Besides, even if she had the funds to keep him, she didn’t have the funds to provide for his sister as well.

  “I can’t,” he said a little too harshly. “We can’t.”

  She turned her head, pressing her face into his neck. For a moment, he held her, merely wrapped his arms around her and prayed that she would one day find the courage to flee her husband, run away to the Americas or Italy, anywhere.

  All too soon she lifted up, pulling away from him. For one brief moment her gaze met his. He saw the pain there, the desperation, the despair, but it was go
ne in a flash, replaced by that hard, determined woman who had first walked in through his door those weeks ago. James felt spent, utterly destroyed.

  “So,” she said, looking away. “This is why people are intimate.”

  She moved off of him and stood beside the bed. How he wished he knew how to paint. Hell, even write poetry, for she deserved to be immortalized. She was a goddess, his golden goddess, and the mere thought of anyone else touching her sent a heated ripple of jealousy flaring though his body.

  “We still have some time,” he said, knowing he sounded desperate and not caring. The thought of never seeing her again didn’t sit well. In fact, it made him break out in a cold sweat. The future seemed empty, dark. He surged from the bed as she pulled her shift over her head.

  “I must go before I’m found.”

  “Stay,” he whispered, his hands curling into the bedsheets.

  She averted her gaze, snatching up her corset, but he’d seen the look of despair in her eyes. She wanted to stay as much as he wanted her to. She tugged the corset together, struggling to fasten the busk. He did not help her; he found he couldn’t move. Although her corset was not fully buttoned, she dressed quickly, as if in a hurry to escape him and the feelings he stirred within.

  Buttoning her bodice, she turned toward him. “I have something to tell you before I leave.”

  She was leaving. She was actually leaving. James reached for his trousers and stood, dressing. He felt utterly numb. His mind begged him to grab her, pull her close, and demand she stay. His body could barely move. “What is it?”

  She slipped her feet into her slippers. “We found your sister.”

  He froze. The words hit him hard, and up until that moment he realized that he thought she had died. Slowly, he sank to the edge of the bed. She was alive… all this time. He tried hard to picture her… a pale, elfin creature who had quietly followed him around. Sweet, kind to every stray animal they found.

  “Where?” he asked, his voice raspy with emotion.

  “She’s at St. Anne’s preparing to become a nun.”

  Not Bath? He jerked his gaze up to her. “You jest.”

  She shook her head, looking as grim as he felt. “I’m sorry, James.”

  He should have been happy that his sister lived. All he could think about was the fact that Lady Lavender had lied, and his money had most likely never gone to his family but some bloody nunnery, if his sister had even received it. “Not dead then?”

  She picked up her leather gloves. “No.”

  A nun. A damn nun. A chill of disbelief raced down his spine. Dear God, she could never know what he did, how he’d made his money. “How did you uncover the truth?”

  She shrugged, flushing. “I hired an investigator.”

  He surged to his feet, angry at Eleanor, at Lady Lavender, even at his sister. “Damn you, Ellie. I told you not to interfere.”

  “I’m sorry I only wanted the truth for you.” She picked up her bonnet where she’d left it on a table near the settee. “Good-bye, James.”

  Damn it all, no matter what he couldn’t let her go like this. He was on her in two steps. James met her near the door, and before she could even blink he’d latched onto her upper arms and jerked her to him. It was a soft kiss, a gentle kiss, a good-bye kiss. James had to force himself to stop, to release her arms and step away from her.

  “Will you see your sister?” She looked worried, clutching her gloves in her hands. “Will you go to her?”

  He shook his head. “No. She can never know what I’ve become.”

  The sadness in her eyes mirrored the feelings in his heart. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, then pulled the veil down over her face. “Good-bye, Ellie.”

  She rested her hand along the side of his face, her lower lip quivering. “Good-bye, James. I hope you find happiness.”

  Her words seem to hang in the air between them, an unreachable goal. She didn’t understand that there was no chance for him now. His mother was dead. His sister was gone. And Ellie… she was merely a fantastical dream that could never be fulfilled. His hands curled as the all-too-familiar tightness in his chest flared to life.

  While the fire in the hearth sputtered and sparked, going out, she turned and left him, taking any hope with her.

  Chapter 12

  St. Anne’s was exactly as Eleanor had imagined… a dark, dreary edifice worthy of a gothic novel. Just looking up at the façade sent a shiver of apprehension down her spine. What a horrible, wretched place to live. Yet Miss McKinnon was here… Eleanor knew for sure, without a doubt, that James’s sister was here.

  The coach door opened.

  “My lady?” Franklin stood by waiting impatiently, as if he had more important things to do this dreary day. Another servant in a long line who found it amusing to mistreat her, knowing she could never fire them without her husband’s approval.

  Her hands trembled with pent-up anger. She’d been belittled for years. No more.

  Eleanor glared coldly at the man. “If I wish to sit here and ponder life’s meaning for hours on end, I will without comment from you, is that clear?”

  His jaw clenched, his gaze flashing with humiliation and ire. “Yes, my lady.”

  Eleanor resisted the urge to grin, feeling oddly free for the first time in years. She would make sure James’s sister was well taken care of; she could do that much for interfering. Then, only then, would she leave. She took in a deep, trembling breath. She would leave her husband, her life, her family. She would leave London, and she would leave James. She would start over anywhere she wished… Italy, France, Germany. Perhaps someday… she would send a note to James, and perhaps someday he would leave his life behind and join her. But for now she would think only of herself, and she had had enough.

  “Franklin, I will be going inside.” She stepped out, not bothering to take his hand. She wore a demure blue day dress with long sleeves and a high collar, a black bonnet perched atop her head. She prayed the sisters would not find fault in her style or manners.

  It had been easy enough to visit the nunnery. She hadn’t had to lie. She’d merely told the butler she would be heading to St. Anne’s, as she was thinking of donating money. It was the simple truth, or most of it, and she would donate, fortifying her statement. Yes, everything must be laid carefully according to plan.

  “I shall be back within the hour.”

  “Yes, my lady,” he mumbled.

  She bit her tongue to keep from reprimanding him, knowing his opinion would not matter a week from now. No, a week from now, if all went as planned, she would be sailing to another country. She would be free. Yet as she headed toward the imposing gray building a heavy weight seemed to press upon her chest. Free… at what cost? She would most likely never see James again. She brushed aside the thought, determined to move on with her life, when she noticed a boy, a scrawny lad huddled a near the corner, taking shelter from the wind. He looked up, and their gazes clashed. She swore she saw James in his hazel eyes. James, in his scrawny body.

  Her feet moved of their own accord closer to the lad. “Are you hungry?”

  He gave a quick jerk of his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

  She reached into her reticule, pulled out one pound, and handed it to him. His eyes grew enormous, but just as soon they narrowed in suspicion. “It’s yours, I promise. To do with what you will. Don’t show anyone, all right? Take it home directly to your mother or father.”

  He didn’t wait around for a response, but tore down the street, clutching the money in his grubby first. She watched him go until he disappeared into the shadows, until her heart stopped slamming wildly, and until thoughts of James faded.

  Determined, Eleanor forced her feet up the wide, shallow steps and pulled the cord. Even the bell announcing her arrival sounded melancholy, perhaps even a bit ominous.

  When the door opened it was by a formidable-looking nun with pasty skin and dark eyes that glared down at her in a way that would impress even Graham. �
��Can I help you?”

  Eleanor steeled herself, realizing that her visit wasn’t going to be easy. She gave the woman a small but respectable smile, one you would give an acquaintance born in a lower station of life than you. At times sweet and demure worked, other times arrogance. She had a feeling only arrogance would work with these women.

  “I’d like to speak with the mother superior.”

  “You’ll wait outside.” She started to shut the door.

  Eleanor shoved her booted foot between the door and the jamb. “I’ll wait indoors.” She didn’t wait for a response but pushed herself past the woman. “And you’ll get her now if you’d like the very large donation I’m thinking of giving.”

  The woman regarded her with a wary glare but reluctantly shut the door. Eleanor didn’t miss the grumbled curse under the older woman’s breath as she shuffled away. Certainly no way for a nun to speak. Eleanor grinned. She’d been bullied, beaten, humiliated… this nun was not going to frighten her away.

  “Sit here.” Her hard tone left no room for argument.

  She nodded toward a wooden bench outside a door. Eleanor settled primly, smoothing her skirts around her as she watched the woman disappear into a nearby room. She would wait for as long as it took. She could not leave London, leave James, without settling this matter. And she had no doubt the mother superior would see her because it was obvious the place needed donations.

  With a sigh, she studied her surroundings. The same dreary gray stone that made up the outside of the abbey covered the halls. No tapestries, nor lanterns. The place was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound was the soft drip of condensation from somewhere down the corridor, and the only light was the weak glow coming from the windows.

  As the clock ticked the seconds by she became more frustrated, anxious to see Miss McKinnon and continue with her plans of escape. Eleanor surged to her feet and paced the hall. Since being with James only yesterday she’d kept herself busy, knowing there was the very real possibility she would shrivel up into a ball and never move again if she thought too much upon the fact that she and James were over.