The Bad Luck Bride (The Brides of St. Ives #1)(44)

Another ragged breath puffed against her cheek before he took her arms and slowly turned her around to face him. It was almost impossible to look up at him, and her cheeks were aflame.

“I’m not taking your virginity.”

She lifted her gaze and looked into those eyes, the color of sea holly, slightly stunned that he would say such a thing. Was that what he thought she wanted? And then another thought: is that why I truly came here? Suddenly, she felt completely out of her element, a little girl pretending to be a woman. Perhaps in the back of her mind that dangerous thought had skittered past her consciousness, that she would give herself to him. But what she truly had wanted was to kiss Henderson, to hold him, and, yes, for him to touch her and make her feel those drugged and thrilling sensations when they kissed.

“I hadn’t thought you would,” she said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Truly, Henderson, I didn’t think at all. You’re leaving in the morning and I might never again have a chance to…”

“A chance to what?” he prompted, impatience tinging his words when she remained silent.

“To feel what you make me feel.” It was nearly impossible to put into words what she wanted to say, for her experience, even with three fiancés, was limited to a few stolen kisses. No man had come close to making her feel the pleasure Henderson had, and she was fairly certain no one ever would.

He closed his eyes briefly and dropped his hands, stepping back. “I’m no more skilled than most men, Alice. Go to bed.”

“Hender—”

“Bloody hell, Alice, you’re to marry another man. I’m flattered that you want to experiment with me, the family’s charity case, but I would appreciate it if my last night in Tregrennar could be spent in peace.”

Tears instantly filled Alice’s eyes. “You know that’s not what you are, Henny,” she said fiercely.

“Do I? I’m not so sure. And here you are, with your fiancé not a few doors away, begging me to kiss you. I’ll be damned if I do, Alice.”

Alice blinked at his angry words. “That’s not how this is at all. It’s not. And Lord Northrup is not my fiancé.” Tears coursed down her face. “You know I would never…” Her words ended on a sob and she stood there helplessly, feeling cold now that Henderson was no longer touching her. Henderson shook his head, a helpless gesture, before drawing her into his arms where she promptly wet his robe with her tears.

“It’s all right, Alice. It’s been a trying day for you.”

She nodded and hiccupped. “It has. Most brutally awful. And now you’re leaving and I shall never see you again. You’re going to In-India and I’ll be here…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she would not be in St. Ives. She would be in Manchester with Lord Northrup—if she decided to marry him. Henderson’s arms were warm and strong and comforting. There was nothing at all carnal in their embrace as he whispered soothing words and moved his hand up and down her back the way a man soothes a frightened horse. With her hands still clutching the lapel of his robe, Alice stood there and slowly gathered herself together, wishing this moment could last forever.

“Feeling better?” he asked after a time.

She nodded but didn’t move away, and he continued to stroke his hand up and down her back, dipping slightly lower each time. She became aware of his manhood growing hard as his hand stroked down to cup her derrière, and her breath quickened slightly. What had been an innocent caress turned slowly more erotic, and Alice closed her eyes to revel in the feelings he was evoking. She became dimly aware that Henderson was slowly lifting the back of her robe and gown, cool air on naked flesh, until her skirts were gathered around her waist. His bare hand, gentle and warm on her bum, was perhaps the most delicious sensation she had ever experienced.

Alice separated the material of Henderson’s robe, exposing his chest, and pressed her lips against him, smiling when she heard a harsh intake of breath. He pulled her against him and let out a groan before dipping his head so that he could kiss her. He was not gentle, but Alice didn’t care. This was what she’d wanted, this wonderful thrilling feeling. His tongue was hot and insistent, sweeping into her mouth, demanding that she kiss him with the same ardor. Alice was more than happy to comply. With a sound of relief and need, she threw herself into the kiss, reveling in the taste of him, the way his body seemed to enfold her in his embrace.

Between her legs, that aching place was wet with need, and she pressed against him, trying to lessen the feeling but only increasing it. Henderson trailed kisses from her mouth to her chin and neck, consuming her, as his hands drifted up her back, beneath her gown, skimming smoothly over her, until she was, except for the gown now gathered above her breasts, completely naked. Cupping one breast, he took her nipple into his mouth, suckling, licking, and Alice let out a sound she hadn’t realized she could make. “Oh, yes. Yes.”

He moved to the other nipple and did the same, while his other hand teased the abandoned breast.

“Henderson.”

He lifted his head, and she prayed she would never forget how he looked at her; it was as if something glowed from within. “Yes, love.” She shook her head. She didn’t know how to ask for what she needed, wanted. “You want me to stop.” It was not a question.

“No. I want…more.”