The Deception (Baron 3)

“Wild, but I don’t know what it’s all about. I don’t know, just that I feel like there’s so much for you to give me and so much for me to give you. Help me.”

The image of her faceless husband rose in his mind. How could any man have cheated himself of her passion? It was a good thing that the saintly André had made his way out of this world; else the duke would have been eager to assist him out.

He took over. He pulled her hard against him and unfastened all the tiny buttons that marched up her back. They parted easily under his practiced fingers, and her gown slipped free from her shoulders. It fell softly to the carpet, billowing at her feet.

Soon she’d be naked. “I don’t know about this,” she said. “You must believe me, for I mean it. Oh, dear, what are you doing?” He untied her single petticoat and watched it fall atop her gown. He was on his knees in front of her, his hands on her leg. “I’m pulling down your stockings. Nothing alarming.” What had that damned departed André done to her?

“I won’t marry you, I won’t.” She was panting, her words tripping over each other. “You’ll see, once you’ve had me, you won’t want me anymore. I promise you.”

He appeared to consider her words quite dispassionately for a moment, though he had difficulty suppressing a grin. So insistent she was even now. Well, they would both know soon what was to be. He pulled down her other stocking, then removed her slippers. She was wearing only a shift that came mid-thigh. He rose, looked down at her a moment, then gently eased away the lace straps and watched the soft muslin fall away from her full breasts to her belly. He tugged it again, and it fell from her hips, floating to the floor. She was naked, finally utterly naked, and she was his. He looked at her belly, wanting desperately to touch her deeply, to caress her with his fingers and his mouth, but something stopped him. He saw panic in her eyes.

She tried to cover herself. He gently pulled her arms away and stepped close. “Close your arms around me. Yes, that’s it. I like that.”

His hands were on her bare back, stroking up and down. When he cupped her hips in his hands, she realized that the feelings that were building deep in her belly were something she’d never before even considered could exist. It was remarkable. Then his fingers pushed slightly inward, and she felt his warm fingers touching her woman’s flesh, flesh only she herself had ever seen or touched. She started to shake her head, started to pull away, then realized that the last thing she wanted was to pull away from him, pull away from his fingers. She raised her face. “Please. Give me more.” He felt poleaxed. “Oh, yes. But there’s no need to rush. Feel what you’ve done to me. Put your hand over my heart, because I’m not about to let your beautiful bottom out of my hands.”

“Your heart’s beating very fast,” she said. “As is yours.” His fingers went inward again, and one of them was eased inside her. “Oh, goodness,” she whispered. “I never imagined, oh, goodness.”

She was very small and very tight around his finger. He kissed her, his eyes closed against the power of it, against a need that would surely consume him if he didn’t have her very soon. He felt her become moist as his fingers touched her, lightly stroked her. She was loosening, opening to him, wanting him. It was heady, it was almost too much. He had to pull away from her or spill his seed, and that wouldn’t be at all good for either of them.

She blinked at him, pressing close, wanting him to touch her again, feel her, come inside her with his fingers. He touched his forehead to hers, his breathing so heavy he wondered what would happen if she was to suddenly touch him. “What do you want me to do?” “Stop squirming against me.” “Was I doing that? Yes, I suppose that I am. I don’t know what to do. Please.”

“Even if the sainted departed André was a pig, surely you know what to do to please a man. I’m just a man, Evangeline. Nothing at all different about me.” He kissed her lightly, still fighting for control.

“Well, if you’re certain that you’re no different, then of course I understand.” But he’d heard the discordant note in her voice and she saw that he had. She pulled his head down to hers and began kissing him with urgency and passion and not a single whit of skill.

He thought, quite simply, that it would be all over for him. He jerked away from her, panting so hard, he wondered if he’d survive it. “No,” he said. “This is worse. Now I can see you instead of feel you against me. All right, enough of this or I’ll go quite mad.” But he couldn’t help himself. He was on her, kissing her until they were both trembling. His hands were frantic on her hips, caressing her until she threw back her head and keened with the power of it. Then, to his immense pleasure, she was pulling and jerking at his clothes. She was trying to kiss him and at the same time unbutton his waistcoat. Then she realized she couldn’t manage it. She howled a curse. He laughed, but it wasn’t the least bit funny, not when he knew he was hovering on the edge of sanity. He shoved her away and pulled off his clothes more quickly than he’d ever done in his life. He swept her up into his arms and nearly ran to the huge bed set high on its dais. He dropped her in the middle of the bed, managed to light a half dozen candles on the branch beside his bed, and stood, staring down at her.

“I’ve never seen a woman I’ve wanted more than I want you,” he said, and the truth of his words filled him to his very soul. Then he stood over her. “Evangeline, what’s the matter? Why are you staring at me, your mouth open?”

“You’re naked,” she said, never looking away from his groin. “You’re very naked.” She licked her lips, nearly sending his body into spasms. “Like you were coming out of the sea, but not really just like that.” He stood there, pulsing with life and urgency. “Now you’re so different from me I know this won’t work. It won’t. I take it all back. I don’t want a lover. I want to go to my own bed and pull my nightgown over my head.”

“Oh, Lord,” he said, and began to laugh. He started to say something about the departed André’s male endowments, but he wanted to get between her legs, right now.

“I’m not about to hurt you. I would hurt myself before I’d ever hurt you. Come now, love. No, don’t close your eyes. A man wants his lover to look at him, perhaps even admire him.” He leaned over and lightly laid his palm on her belly. He said nothing more, did nothing more, just stood there, his palm warm and large, just lying on her stomach. Then, very slowly, his fingers moved downward, and soon she was holding her breath, looking at his face, her eyes open very wide, knowing he was studying her, looking at her, looking at his fingers that were touching her. She opened her mouth, heaved upward against his fingers, and yelled. He lifted his fingers from her warm flesh, and she sucked in her breath. She looked utterly disappointed. Her breasts were heaving, and he didn’t know what to do first. He wanted everything at once.

“What you did,” she whispered, her eyes on his face, “what you did. That is something I never imagined. Is that normally done? Would you do it again?”

“Damnation,” he said, and came down beside her. He leaned his head to her breast and took her in his mouth. She was filled with passion, but oddly, she didn’t seem to kno

w what to do to heighten her pleasure, how to guide him to please her more. He suckled her breasts, and again he let his hand skim over her ribs to her belly. She was squirming against him, her breath coming in short gasps, and her fingers were squeezing his shoulders. “Please,” she said, and he said against her breast, “All right.” His fingers were over her, then one eased up inside her. She cried out even as her hips jerked upward.

“Easy,” he said into her mouth. He would give her pleasure first. She was very close. “I want you to look at me now, Evangeline.”

Her head was twisting back and forth on the pillow.

“Look at me now.”

She did. He looked at her when he found her with his fingers, when his fingers slicked over her soft woman’s flesh, and in but a moment of time, her eyes turned wild and vague, and she was breathing so hard she was nearly choking. And she never looked away from him.

“Now come to me,” he said, and kissed her as his fingers caressed her and loved her until he felt a tightening in her, a tensing of her legs, felt the wonderful tremors that started deep inside her. He raised his head and watched her release wash over her and through her.

She wondered if she was dying; then she didn’t care, just let herself be thrown from one height to another. She was crying and tossing, then shouting when her body seemed to lock in an arc of pleasure so intense it felled her. She went limp then, feeling small pulsing waves of pleasure feeding through her, and wondering when she could do this again. She looked up into his face, dark and harshly beautiful. She smiled up at him and said, her voice low and scratchy, “Thank you. I never imagined that anything could be quite so wonderful.” She closed her eyes a moment at the delicious warmth that was stealing through her, softening her, easing her mind, and she knew that she wanted more than anything to belong to him. But that couldn’t happen. No, all she could have was this one night with him. She felt tears trail down her cheeks; a sob burst out of her mouth. She reared up, burying her face against his chest.

Although he didn’t understand her, something he was growing rather used to, he set himself to soothe her, his fierce passion temporarily in check. But sweeping his hands down her back, pressing her breasts against him, kissing her ears, her throat, all soon had quite another effect on her. Evangeline didn’t question any of it. Her tears dried quickly as her hands stroked down his back. It was she who sought out his mouth, saying between kisses, “Yes, please. Just tell me what to do.”

He studied her face, drawn to the vague, smoky sheen in her eyes. His hand caressed her belly, and he felt the taut muscles tense beneath his fingers. Her flesh was smooth, like slick silk.

She tried to move upward against him, but he pressed her back. “No, lie still. My mouth this time, not my fingers.”