Sherbrooke Twins (Sherbrooke Brides 8)

Her agile tongue dried up. “M-my bottom? You felt m-my bottom?”

“Well, of course. You have a lovely bottom, Corrie, from the feel of it. If you marry me, why then I can take your clothes off, stretch you out on your back, and rub you down with a nice damp cloth. Again and again, perhaps humming whilst I stroke that nice cloth over yo

u, every little part of you. Do you think your skin is as white as Devlin’s?”

“You didn’t want me to say his name.”

He laughed. “Embarrassed, are you? Well, picture yourself naked, Corrie, and I’m the one stroking my hands all over you, particularly your breasts, and you’re not sick at all. In fact, you’re arching your back against my hands. What do you think?”

“Oh goodness,” she said, and turned to walk away. “Oh goodness.”

“No.” He grabbed her arm. “No, you won’t simply walk out on me this time. We’re getting this settled right now, Corriander Tybourne-Barrett. My God, what a ghastly name. Do you think we will have to sign that as your name in the marriage registry?”

She was standing perfectly still, aware that his hands were running up and down her arms, and one arm was bare where he’d ripped her sleeve.

“If you don’t marry me, then I will have to do something drastic.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not going to tell you. Listen to me, brat, there is simply no choice. If you don’t marry me, then both of us are thoroughly ruined. Don’t you understand? Haven’t you got your brain around this?”

“You wouldn’t be ruined, James, that’s absurd. If I simply go back to the country, I won’t be ruined either.”

He shook her. “That is so stupid, I can’t imagine how you could let it out of your mouth.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It was bad.” She looked down at his hands still clutching her arms. She pulled free of him and took several steps away from him, shook her fist in his face, and wailed, “You don’t love me!”

He yelled right back. “And I suppose you love me?”

She stared at him, mute as a post.

“Well? Answer me, damn you.”

“No, I won’t, and don’t yell at me again.”

“Why won’t you answer me? All right, keep still, it’s a blessed relief, your silence. I know you adored me when you were three years old. Has that changed?”

“Things are a bit more straightforward when you’re three years old, much simpler, not a single shade between black and white. I’m no longer three years old, James.”

“All I have to do is look at your breasts and I know that well enough. Is that a blush I see on that brazen face of yours? All right, so you wish to string me along, like a trout on your fishing line. That is very female of you, Corrie, and I don’t appreciate it. You say I don’t love you-all this has happened too quickly. How can something like that happen in the course of a week? I do like you all the way to the soles of my feet; I admire you. I think you’re too brave for your brains. I think you’ve been a twit more times than not, but the fact is we’ll do very well together. Now, listen. We’ve known each other forever. My parents are very fond of you, and you of them-forget my grandmother, she hates everyone-and your Uncle Simon knows that you won’t have to be hunted down like a rat if you marry me, since our marriage would have nothing at all to do with your blasted money. Everyone would be relieved. The gossip would stop. We would be blessed and smiled upon. No one would cut you, ever again. I would no longer be considered a ravager of young maidens. We would get along fine, Corrie. Enough of this.” He hauled her against him and kissed her.

Corrie, who’d only been kissed by Willie Marker, nearly blacked out. Delight, that’s what it was, and it swept over her with the force of a wave at the beach. His tongue touched her lips, pressing lightly. Without any hesitation at all, Corrie opened her mouth and nearly fainted with the lust that poured through her when his tongue touched hers. She knew it was lust; it had to be lust because it felt so very good. She knew lust was wicked because Uncle Simon was wont to say that the reason wickedness was so rampant in the world was because it was so utterly delicious. Well, with James, it was beyond delicious. This was something she’d never even known could exist, it-

“Oh dear, excuse me.”

Corrie would have crashed insensible to the floor if James weren’t holding her up.

James’s brain nearly melted at the sound of his mother’s voice. His heart, nearly pounding out of his chest, thudded to his feet. His sex, thank the good Lord, became instantly dormant. He knew he couldn’t let go of Corrie, she’d fall in a heap.

He managed to pull his tongue out of her mouth and slowly, very slowly, he turned to say, hoping he wouldn’t pant out his words, “Hello, Mother. Since Corrie and I are engaged now, she wanted to know what it was like to kiss.”

Alexandra stood in the doorway, amused, horrified, and terribly aware that her son had his tongue nearly down a girl’s throat. Corrie looked like a half-wit, which was a very good thing, she thought, shuddering, because in that instant she remembered the first time she’d kissed Douglas, and lost her head. As for James, he looked flushed, embarrassed, and-no, better not think along those lines.

What if she’d walked through that door two minutes from now? Oh dear. What was a mother to do?

She cleared her throat. “Welcome to the family, Corrie.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE