"Enough." His hands left her, then gripped her hips. He lifted her and balanced her on the edge of the sofa table.
She grabbed his shoulders; she wasn't far enough back to sit securely. Wild panic gripped her-exhilaration and anticipation raced through her. But she didn't want to lose her wits-not yet. There was more she'd yet to see, more she'd yet to appreciate. She wanted it all-every moment. She sucked in a breath. "How?"
Her question snapped his attention back to her face; he met her gaze-in his eyes she saw the fight he waged to releash his need, to bring it back under control. He paused, then drew in a long breath and nodded. "Wait."
Fingers sinking into his shoulders, she did.
He lifted her skirts and chemise, pushing them back, catching them under her so they pulled tight across her hips and stomach. She looked down and blushed; the dark locks below her stomach curled wildly, a soft nest between her bare thighs. Her stockings were gartered just above her knees; hands closing on the bare skin above her garters, he eased her thighs wide and stepped between. He'd loosened his breeches, releasing himself fully.
She ran her hand down, fingers trailing the length of his chest, then down still farther, until she coiled her fingers around his length. He caught her wrist and moved her hand away. He grasped her hips, drew her right to the table's edge, then held her there.
He stepped closer and she caught her breath.
"Watch."
She did.
Lucifer watched her, watched the total absorption in her face as he pressed against her soft flesh. He found her entrance, and let her feel the pressure build before, with a gentle nudge, he slipped inside. Only a fraction. Just enough for her to catch her breath, then shudder and tense. He waited, expecting her to relax again. Then he realized.
"It won't hurt-not this time. Not ever again." He whispered the words against her hair and willed her to believe them. His control was exceptional, but so was she-exceptionally hot, exceptionally wet, exceptionally trying. "When you relax, I'll slide into you-you already know I'll fit."
She let out a shuddering breath. "Yes."
He felt her body ease, little by little, around him. At last she was open and accepting. Slowly, very slowly, he pressed into her.
Head bowed, she watched him enter her, ultimately sliding home. She shivered. He pressed deep, then settled her. Then he withdrew. Because she was watching, he withdrew all the way, then reentered her and slowly sank home. She watched him penetrate her twice more before, with a shuddering gasp, she broke.
He was waiting when she clutched his shoulders and lifted her head blindly. He caught her, caught her lips in a searing kiss, and let their reins loose. She came to him like a wanton, eager, abandoned. She pressed herself to him, bare breasts hot against his chest, nipples tight, taunting as she shifted with each thrust.
"Put your legs about my hips."
She did; wrapping her arms about his shoulders, she lifted herself against him. He spread his hands beneath her bottom and held her as he thrust deep, then withdrew, only to return harder, deeper. She clung to him; he filled her mouth, filled her body, bathed in her wet heat.
That heat was exquisite, burning bright, hot enough to cinder their senses. He shattered deep within her, drowning in her glory. An instant later, she followed, shuddering in his arms.
He held her close; she curled around him, resting her head on his shoulder. Their hearts thundered; his chest swelled as he dragged in a breath. He eased her down, resting the backs of his hands on the tabletop, then placed a soft kiss in her hair.
For long moments, they remained still in the silence, locked in the comfort of that intimate embrace.
Phyllida couldn't believe the depth of the pleasure that washed through her. She was floating on a sea of golden joy, anchored, held safe in his arms. Throughout the entire interlude, that was how it had been-desire, intimacy, pleasure, and joy, all safe in his arms.
They still surrounded her. Beneath her cheek, she could hear his heart beating strongly, gradually slowing as they returned to earth. Her only wish was that, rather than here, still clothed, they were naked in his bedroom. Then there would be no reason to pull away-to disturb the moment. She could lie in his arms forever, bask in his heat forever. Play desire with him forever.
Only it hadn't, really, been play. The desire that had held them, driven them, and, at the last, consumed them-that desire had been very real. Hers and his-theirs.
She lay in his arms, and wondered just what lesson he'd really meant her to learn.
"Where are you leading me?" The most pertinent question.
"You know where."
In her heart, she did. She had known, but not believed. Now she had to. "Where?"
Better he say it, so she couldn't pretend otherwise.
"I would never have made love to you if I didn't intend to marry you."
He hadn't wanted to tell her-she could imagine why. "I haven't agreed."
He let the silence stretch, then he pressed a kiss to her hair. "I know-but you will."
Chapter 15
Contents – Prev | Next
"You said Covey had uncovered something about Lady Fortemain. I forgot to ask-what was it?"
Seated at his desk, a stack of books before him, Lucifer glanced across the Manor library to where Phyllida sat on a straight-backed chair facing one of the bookcases. She was working along one shelf, checking each book for notations, then entering the book's details in a ledger. Covey was working likewise around the drawing room. Lucifer had started on the shelves behind the desk.
"It was an inscription in a book. 'To my dear Letitia, with fond memories of our recent time together, etc. Humphrey.' I understand Lady Fortemain's husband was Bentley. It appears Horatio bought some volumes from the Ballyclose library and that book was among them."
Phyllida looked at him. "Well, it's hardly a sensation to find such an inscription. I daresay it dates back to before Lady Fortemain married."
"The book was published after Cedric was born."
"Oh."
"Indeed. However, we haven't stumbled on any other such protestations of affection for her ladyship, so I'm not setting much stock in that at present."
Phyllida swung back to the bookshelf. After a moment, she shrugged and continued her cataloguing. Lucifer returned to his.
His campaign to win her, to woo her into marrying him, was progressing in a slow if not steady manner. He hadn't intended to state his decision to marry her so soon, but their interlude in the outbuilding had made it imperative she know-so she couldn't imagine he'd had any other motive in seducing her. Again. He was well aware that repeating the exercise had been easy only because she desired him with an uncomplicated directness that, at least while in his arms, she made no effort to deny.
He'd worried that after they'd left the warm stillness of the outbuilding, she'd grow skittish and even more difficult. Instead, she'd unsettled him with her continuing calm, as if she were coolly considering him and the question he hadn't yet asked. He wouldn't ask-not until he was sure of her answer; that was the strategic course. As long as she hadn't refused him, he could continue to press his suit, albeit carefully.
He wasn't fool enough to take gaining her agreement for granted; she had an entrenched belief that marriage was not for her. Her cool appraisal suggested he'd made her revisit that belief, but she hadn't yet changed her mind.
He needed to tread warily. Seducing a lady into matrimony was not a game he'd played before; he wasn't sure of the rules. But he'd never yet failed in a seduction-he wasn't going to start with Phyllida Tallent. How to seduce a lady of managing disposition? Thanks to her previous suitors, she had no appreciation of her womanly charms, much less their effect on him; the notion that her sweet self held the power to sway him was bound to be attractive. He'd need to make an effort to be more manageable than he was, but if that was her price, he'd pay it. He'd unblinker her vision, show her what might be, then leave her to convince herself how desirable that was.