Seduced by His Touch(43)

Diving low again, he used his mouth to send her senses whirling like a  maelstrom. Her blood beat hot and fierce, passion crashing through her  in wild, heady draughts that made her half mad with longing.

She started to worry that he was toying with her again, when suddenly he  did something with his teeth and tongue that was so utterly shattering  her mind went completely blank for a brief while. Rapture exploded  inside her, bliss pouring into every nerve ending and sinew in her body.  Moaning loudly, she shook violently within his grasp. Then she  plummeted back to earth, lying limp and breathless as she floated on a  sea of pure delight.

Jack didn't give her long to recover. Rising up on his knees, he pulled her closer.

"My turn now," he murmured in a velvety rasp.

Hooking her legs high around his waist, he took a moment to position her  before thrusting inside her in one long, deep stroke. A harsh gasp  sighed from her mouth, as his powerful penetration filled her  completely, his shaft stretching her nearly to her limits.

But her body didn't seem to mind, responding with an instant, yearning  surge of hunger that surprised her with its strength. As improbable as  it seemed, she wanted him again.

Desperately.

Dark need claimed her as he began to thrust, his powerful rhythm setting  up an almost frantic ache inside her. Reaching up, she caught his head  in her hands and pulled him down for a wet, rapacious kiss. The move  pushed him deeper, making both of them groan with delight.

He seemed to go a little wild then, clutching her hips more firmly to  take her with fast, deep, unbridled strokes. She held on, held him,  taking his mouth with more fervid, open-mouthed kisses, whose frenzy he  seemed quite happy to match.

This time, when she screamed out her release, the sound was muffled  against his lips, her body trembling still as he poured himself inside  her less than a minute later.

Together, they sank backward, the mattress bouncing a little as they  settled into a tangle of warm, damp flesh and utter satisfaction. For  long minutes, she couldn't speak, content to do nothing but drift, too  peaceful to move even so much as an inch.

At length, he raised his head and met her gaze. Bending close, he gave her a kiss that was soft, slow and sweet.

Before she could decide how to respond, he eased away, a wave of cool  air rushing in to take his place. Shivering, she reached for the covers,  only then realizing that her nightgown was bunched up around her  breasts.

Pushing the material down over her hips and legs, she sat up. As she  did, she cast a glance over her shoulder and saw him lying on his back,  asleep.

Dismissed already and so quickly too. Then again, perhaps she was being too harsh and he was merely tired.

Either way, though, a new chill burrowed into her bones.

Turning her back on him, she curled into a ball on her side and pulled  the covers high. Nearly an hour passed before she finally found her own  rest.                       
       
           


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Chapter 20





For Grace, the next three weeks passed by with an odd sense of duality.

Much as they had during their first week of residence at the honeymoon  cottage, she and Jack shared formal meals in the dining room. Their  conversation improved in frequency, but it remained confined to  innocuous small talk and a range of impersonal topics that never seemed  to delve much below the surface.

During the day, the two of them separated to engage in a variety of  solitary pastimes-Jack often riding out on a swift-footed roan gelding  he'd received as a wedding gift from Edward, while she painted, read, or  sewed. Occasionally, they shared a long walk around the grounds or  drove into the nearby village to do a bit of sightseeing and visit the  shops. But the weather was frequently dreary and cold, encouraging them  to spend a great deal of their time tucked warm and snug inside.

Otherwise when they weren't sleeping, they had sex-and lots of it.

After that first coupling, they'd wiled away the next day separately.  But when bedtime arrived, so did Jack, yanking off the nightgown her  maid had just helped her into before tumbling her down onto the  mattress. Near dawn, he awakened her again for another energetic bout  that left her exhausted and sleeping until almost noon.

And thus began a pattern of sorts, since she could count on him to take her each morning and at least once every night.

He wasn't always content with just those encounters, however, surprising  her at unusual times to sweep her off her feet and into bed.

And then there were the occasions when he didn't even bother with a bed,  instead finding inventive ways to try out various pieces of furniture  around the house.

He took her in a chair in the study one afternoon, and another time on  the chaise. Once he came upon her in the main room and bent her over the  sofa, tossing her skirts up around her shoulders so that he could  thrust himself into her from behind.

But the occasion that remained most vivid in her memory was the morning  after breakfast when he locked the door and laid her atop the dining  table. There, among the uncleared pots of tea and jam, he proceeded to  enjoy a "second repast," as he dubbed it. Stripping her bare, he'd  anointed her skin with dollops of honey and preserves before eating them  off her quivering flesh with agonizing slowness. In the end, he'd left  her lax and glowing, her body sticky but thoroughly satisfied.

No matter how often he came to her though, she never denied him. Nor did  she wish to, thrilling to his every kiss and caress, grateful that he  never left her anything but completely fulfilled.

Still, she never sought him out of her own volition, nor initiated any  of their couplings, even though she had no doubt he would have welcomed  her advances. And although she gave him free access to her body, she  refused to let him back into her heart, closing off that part of herself  with an implacable firmness.

But their honeymoon was nearly done now, and her maid was busy packing  the last of her belongings for the journey home to London.

Dressed this morning in a soft, dark blue woolen traveling gown, Grace  stood at the bedchamber window and gazed out at fields turned white from  an overnight dusting of snow.

Not far in the distance, a small flock of brown sparrows had landed and  were hopping to and fro in search of hidden seed. With only partial  attention, she noted their efforts, until some noise startled them and  off they flew in a rush.

"That's the rest of it, milady," her maid announced as she closed the  fastenings on Grace's valise. "Will there be anything else yer needing?"

Needing? Yes, a great many things, Grace thought, but nothing this girl could possibly provide.

"No, thank you," Grace said with a quick glance. "Carry that below, please, and I shall be down in a minute."

Bobbing a curtsey, the servant gathered the case and left.

Not long after, Grace heard a set of footfalls in the hallway and thought perhaps her maid had returned.

Instead, a glance showed her that it was Jack who stood in the doorway,  looking tall and resplendent in his dark, many-caped greatcoat. Moving  with the lean stride of a cat, he walked into the room, his booted feet  making barely a sound on the wooden floors. "I came to see if you're set  to leave?" he stated. "The coach is in the drive with the horses  standing at the ready."

She took a few last moments to gaze out the window before turning  around. Crossing to the dresser, she picked up her gloves and drew them  on. "We can depart whenever you choose. Just let me don my pelisse and  we'll go."

He waited quietly while she retrieved the garment. Before she could put it on, though, he stepped close and took it from her.                       
       
           


///
       

"Allow me," he said, holding up the long, emerald green wrap.

After the faintest hesitation, she let him assist her into the pelisse.  When he was done, he turned her around to face him, his fingers moving  to fasten the buttons.

"I can do it," she said, trying to brush his hands aside.

But he refused to let her, working the second button through its  corresponding buttonhole before she gave up trying to prevent him from  doing so.

"You look beautiful this morning," he said. "These colors become you. They make your cheeks glow."

Once she would have melted to hear him say such things. Now, they only turned her cold.

"Must you do that?" she said before she could stop herself.

One mahogany brow winged upward. "Do what?"

She paused before continuing. "That. Attempt to flatter me. I'd rather you didn't. If you want something, you have only to ask."

His brows creased into a scowl. "I don't want anything at the moment. I was merely making an observation."

"Well, you needn't bother. As I've told you before, I have no use for  false praise and am quite familiar with my own shortcomings. Pray don't  feel that you need to cajole me."