Page 27

“Every respectable family does,” she returned. “So my only options are an odious marriage to a man who—”

“No. You cannot marry someone vile. That’s a fate worse than death.” They both knew that any man who would have her with a tarnished reputation wanted her for the most despicable reasons. “You do not know what those men want.”

“I do know, at least in part. I helped give comfort to some of my father’s parishioners. I was sheltered, Your Grace, not blind.”

She had a point. “So what is it that I can—”

“If I must sell myself,” she pressed on, her words quick as she interrupted him. “I should like to choose my buyer. And get the best price I can for it.” She took a shuddering breath, but it did not stop her from finishing her thought. “I need you to help me with that.”

His breath froze in his lungs. His thoughts whited out as he stared at her. She wanted him to… She planned to…

“You know everyone, Your Grace, or at least more people than I do. You know who would be my best option and…” Finally, she faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor as she spoke.

“To be clear,” he said, his voice icy cold. “You are asking me to find you a protector.” He nearly choked on the word. “Not a husband.”

Her gaze raised to his. “Do you know of a husband who would take me?”

Not a good one. Not one who was worthy of her. And he had spent a great deal of time thinking about it. Thinking and rejecting every man who crossed his mind.

Protectors were an even worse lot.

“Do you even know what it is like? Do you know what to do?” He had already kissed her. He knew exactly how inexperienced she was. “You are not cut out for that kind of life!”

He watched her jaw firm and her eyes turn cold. “You know nothing of what a woman will do when she has no other option.”

He took a step forward. “You will be at the beck and call of any man with coin.”

She swallowed.

“Whatever he wants, whenever he wants.”

“That is no different than a husband.”

He couldn’t deny that. But with marriage, she had some protection. As a mistress, she had none. “You must please him in every way. And when he tires of you anyway, he will discard you.”

She nodded. “I know. But then I shall be free to find a new one.”

If her looks were still good. If she were still young. If she knew the slightest bit about seduction. “Do you even know how to please a man? What he wants? What he needs?”

He’d come close as he spoke, towering over her as he tried to impress his words on her. Good God, she had no idea what she was asking, and yet he could see the determination in her eyes. And he knew, damn it, that if she could learn, it might be the best option for her.

“You cannot,” he rasped.

“Not without help,” she said. “I know other people to ask—”

“No!” He did not want to think of who might help her or how they might teach her.

He did not want to imagine her married to an old widower or mistress to a depraved wealthy son.

The idea that anyone but him could touch her made him insane.

He cupped her cheek, the movement abrupt but he made sure his touch was gentle. “No one else,” he said.

She touched his wrist, her eyes wide but still steady. “I must make the best choice I can. My life depends upon it.”

She was right, and yet she was so very wrong. He had no space in his mind to weigh her choices, only a desperate need to see that she was not destroyed by the wrong choice. By the wrong man. By anyone but him.

He kissed her. He pressed his mouth to hers and plundered her in the most possessive way. He thrust into her mouth. He touched every part of her mouth. And then, because he could not be brutal with her, he softened against her. He let her duel sweetly with him.

She raised her hands to his arms, gripping them as she arched into him.

His left hand was on her waist, then slid upward to cup her breast. He felt her breath catch at that, and he eased back enough to let her feel what he was doing.

Indeed, with her eyes wide and her mouth wet, he gloried in showing her how it should be with a man.

He thumbed her nipple. It was tight as it pressed against her dress, but it was nothing compared to what he could make her feel.

“No one has ever done this to you before, have they?”

She swallowed then shook her head.

“Do you like it?” He already knew the answer, but he knew that her pleasure would be enhanced the more she admitted to the sensations he gave her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“This is how it feels when you want it,” he said. He leaned forward, nuzzling her skin. “Say you want this.”

“I do.”

He pulled back. “Say you want me.”

“You,” she whispered.

He grinned. “Your gown is simple. I can show you more. Do you want—”

“Yes. Please.”

It was a simple matter to open the buttons on the back of her dress and ease the shoulders of her dress down.

Unlike Lady Zoe, she did not wear a riding habit.

She hadn’t intended to ride, so she wore a light spring gown.

When the fabric was lax across her bodice, he untied the ribbon of her shift, and he slipped his hand inside.

Her breast had a nice shape and weight. It was rosy with her heat, and she gasped when he squeezed her nipple.

He pinched it again, then rolled it. She grabbed onto the edge of a table as she swayed slightly.

Fortunately, she couldn’t raise her arms without ripping her dress. And so he pulled her other breast free.

Then he played, exploring her breasts. He kneaded them, squeezed them, then tugged at her nipples.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she dropped her head back.

Her breath was unsteady, and he wondered at her balance, but there was a rack behind her that would support her.

Then he leaned down and captured a nipple in his mouth.

“Oooo,” she moaned. It was a breathy sound of delight, and he loved it.

Her other breast was just as sensitive. Soon she was leaning back against the rack while he did what he willed with her chest. She set a hand on his shoulder and gripped him. He knew the steady rise of her passion by her breath, by her moans, and how tightly she squeezed his shoulder.

Then he kissed his way from her breasts, up her neck, to whisper into her ear. “Have you ever had a quickening?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want one?”

“Here?”

It wasn’t respectable, but he didn’t want to stop. And she was so ripe that he used a foot to pull a stool close.

“Put your foot there,” he said, guiding her. She complied, though the movement was awkward. He eased her fears as much as he could, kissing her while he wrapped her left hand around a vertical part of the rack. Finally, he guided her right hand to his shoulder.

She was braced and open to him. Indeed, he would remember this sight for the rest of his life. Kynthea, so innocent and yet so open with her eyes dazed and her breasts free. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

“When it gets overwhelming,” he said, “press your mouth to my neck. It will muffle the sound.” And let him feel the intensity of her breath.

He waited until she nodded, and then he set both his hands around her raised calf before sliding upwards.

Over her knee and up her thigh, her skirt rising with him.

Then he found the top of her stocking and kept going.

“Your Grace!” she exclaimed, but it wasn’t a protest. Nevertheless, he paused.

“Do you want me to kiss you again? As a distraction? Or would you rather experience it just as you are?” Then his expression softened. “Or I will stop. If you want.”

“No!” Then she swallowed. “I want to know. Truly!”

“Very well then.” He winked at her. “A quick kiss first.”

It wasn’t a quick kiss. It was slow and deliberate. She melted into it. And when he pulled back, his fingers slipped between her thighs.

She was wet and, he thought, trembling. Her hand was tight on his shoulder, but her expression was interested. Eager even.

“Will you…will you put…” She didn’t have the words, and her cheeks were crimson.

“Not this time,” he said. Then his fingers began to explore her in earnest. God, if the scent of her arousal made him dazed with hunger, the feel of her so wet made his blood pound with need. But he knew better than to rush this.

He spread her wetness around, he stroked her petals open, and he rolled his thumb up over her pearl while she shivered in reaction.

As if she were throwing off a lifetime of restraint, she dropped her head back, further exposing her throat and breasts.

They moved with her breath while he stroked in and up.

Inside her heat, then up across her pearl.

Her back arched, her breath came in hot gasps. And then he increased his tempo.

He could feel inside her as she clenched, then mewed with her need. The rack behind her began to shake and he worried for its stability. He didn’t want it tumbling down and he didn’t want to interrupt her experience, but he had no choice.

“Come here,” he rasped.

She blinked at him. “What?”

He pulled her toward him, quickly flipping her around.

Her bottom pressed against his erection, and what he wouldn’t give to plow into her from behind right here and now.

He didn’t. Instead, he bent her over the table.

Her breasts dangled unrestrained, and he indulged himself as he squeezed them. Her nipples were so sensitive!

Then when he was sure she was ready, he pulled up her skirt again. Her legs were set wide, and he slid his hand down between her folds.

Inside and up. Inside and up.

She liked it when he drew the callouses of his finger across her pearl. She arched into it, and he…God help him, he felt as if he might explode in his clothing like a boy. Instead, he pressed his lips to her neck. He tasted the salt on her skin and whispered into her ear.

“Can you hold back your cry?”

She nodded.

“Good.”

He pulled his finger over her pearl again.

Faster. Harder.

Sweeter.

Her body arched.

She pressed down against him.

She cried out.