All About Seduction(96)

“Jack,” she said on a sigh.

He pivoted toward her, angry that she would question his determination and ability, and more angry that she was right to think he couldn’t make it on his own. A bitter taste lingered in his mouth when she hadn’t reached for his waist or moved in to put her arm around him as she had before. “What? Are you worried I won’t be able manage tonight?”

She recoiled, but her words came out clipped and haughty. “Should I be?”

Honestly, maybe she should be, because he was worried. If it was a repeat of last night, he might have trouble. Or surely that had been the laudanum, the ache in his unhealed leg and knowing she was hurting. He wouldn’t take the laudanum, the honeymoon cream should ease her discomfort—and his pain he’d ignore.

Her forehead crinkled. “If you need to rest tonight . . .” She looked down.

His heart thumped erratically. He didn’t want her to stay away from him. Certainly, he didn’t want her finding her way into one of the gentlemen’s beds, pretending to enjoy something she hated. She needed a man who could coax her through and didn’t ignore her discomfort. Years of Mr. Broadhurst’s abuse wouldn’t be undone in a day. He sighed. Patience would win her if he’d let it. Surely he could get her to not hate the act, perhaps learn to like it.

Had she hated every minute with him? He was certain the tenor of their encounter had changed toward the end—or he’d needed to believe he was getting under her skin to complete the act.

But she was a passionate woman underneath. He knew that, had seen glimpses of it, watched her struggle to hide it. If he could just get through to the passion inside her, he could tempt her into letting loose. She hid her emotions with manners and correctness and a mild voice, except a minute ago she’d exposed her anger at his being gone. Now, while her passions were near the surface, was the time to seduce her.

He glanced up toward the closed doors. The sides of the staircase would block the view from most of the windows, except the ones directly above the entry. If Broadhurst saw him, he would be dead before morning, but he had to risk being seen to break through her resistance.

Jack reached out and traced his finger along the edge of the long curl. She drew in a deep breath through her nose. Her eyes widened. Slowly, he pushed the pads of his fingers against her skin and ran them along the edge of her low neckline, feeling the softness of the upper curve of her breast, the hard bone under her sternum, and then up to the hollow at the base of her throat where her pulse fluttered wildly. “I don’t want to rest. I want you.”

Her blue eyes darkened and her nostrils flared as her lips parted. Under his fingers her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. Pink spread from under her bodice, coloring her chest and then her face. Belatedly, she grabbed his fingers, crushing them with a desperate grip. “You promised not to touch me.”

“Only during the act, Caro.” His voice was rough as he added, “Which we are not at present engaged in.”

He moved in close enough he could feel her breath whisper across his lips. Their hands were trapped between them, her knuckles brushing his chest. His pain receded and his interest rose. She was so damn beautiful, and skittish as a doe with fawns.

Just as she tilted toward him, he eased back. Always better to leave a woman hungry for more.

She dropped his hand and stared at him as if he’d grown a horn in the center of his head. But she’d already betrayed her desire for him. She might not like it, or might think she was incapable, but clearly she wasn’t.

If she responded tonight with half the interest she’d just shown, he would more than manage. “So you will come to me tonight?”

She nodded and swallowed. Her eyes darted to the each side as if she’d stolen something.

He rather preferred that she was unpracticed in the ways of adultery. Now, all he had to do was make it up the entry stairs across the hall and into bed and then rest up so he would be fit enough.

He was halfway up, arms quivering, back and good leg aching, when she said, “I’ve put you in a room on the second floor at the far end.”

Not only the rest of these stairs, but two more flights and a passageway to negotiate. “Are you trying to be the death of me?”

She raised her chin. “You are the one who thought you could traipse all over. I am the one who thought you should remain in the house close to bed for at least another week.”

He closed his eyes. She was right. He was weak, and frustrated with his weakness. “It didn’t seem like a great distance when I left.”