If it were possible to die of mortification, she would have expired right then and there. “Perhaps later,” she said. “I need some time to accustom myself to the idea.”
A flare of laughter mingled with the heat in his eyes. “You decided to limit our affair to three months. That doesn’t leave much time.” His mouth played around the small circle of her navel, his warm breath wafting inside the hollow. “One kiss,” he urged, and his fingertip parted the curls between her thighs to alight on a place of startling sensation. “Right here. Will that be too much for you to bear?”
She made a helpless noise at the touch of his fingertip. “Just one,” she said unsteadily.
His mouth descended, and she felt his fingers sifting through the springy hair, spreading her gently. His lips parted, his tongue investigating her with a circling stroke. She felt the pull of ecstasy in every limb, her nerves screaming for more, all coherent thought shattering at the sight of his head between her thighs.
“One more?” he asked huskily, and he bent his head again before she could deny him. His mouth touched her again, wetting the aching rise of flesh, his tongue stroking and prodding with delicate skill. He did not ask for further consent but simply did as he wanted, settling between her legs with a sigh of pleasure while she cried out and strained and trembled. Sensation unfurled inside her and raced through every vein. She lay spread-eagled beneath him while her body acceded eagerly to the sweet torment of his mouth. Momentum gathered, hurtling her ever higher, until she had lost all hope of controlling the wild groans that emanated from her chest.
She felt his tongue slip inside her, a sleek, repeated plunging that caused her hips to rise in helpless surges. He returned to the tender nub of her sex, drawing it inside the suction of his mouth, while his finger penetrated the wet channel between her thighs. He teased the slick inner surface in a way that made her beg for release, until they both knew that she would allow anything, everything, that he might want.
He slipped a second finger inside her body, thrusting deeply to find an unbearably sensitive place. Gently he teased and rubbed while his mouth drew harder, his caresses steady, rhythmic, until she sobbed and cried out as the world exploded in bliss.
Several minutes later Amanda let him pull her atop his body so that she rested on a long plane of muscle and sinew. “You must have had many affairs, to be so skilled,” she murmured, feeling a sharp twinge of jealousy at the thought.
His brows quirked as he clearly wondered whether she was being critical or complimentary. “I haven’t, actually,” he said, playing with her long hair, spreading it over his chest. “I happen to be fairly discerning when it comes to this sort of thing. Besides, I’ve always been so damned involved in my work that I’ve never had a great deal of time for affairs.”
“What about love?” Amanda levered herself up on his chest, staring into his dark face. “Haven’t you ever fallen madly in love with someone?”
“Not to the extent that I let it interfere with my business.”
Amanda laughed suddenly, reaching to smooth a lock of black hair back from his forehead. He had beautiful hair, thick and shiny, slightly coarse beneath her fingers. “It wasn’t love, then. Not if you could dismiss it so easily when it became inconvenient.”
“And you?” Jack countered, running his warm hands along her arms until gooseflesh raised on the backs of them. “Obviously you’ve never fallen in love.”
“Why are you so certain?”
“Because you wouldn’t have remained a virgin if you had.”
“Cynic,” she accused with a smile. “Can’t one love genuinely but chastely?”
“No,” he returned flatly. “If it’s real love, it has to include physical passion. A man and a woman can never really know each other otherwise.”
“I disagree. I believe that emotional passion is far more intense than the physical kind.”
“For a woman, perhaps.”
Reaching for a pillow, she swatted it over his grinning face. “You primitive lout.”
Jack chuckled, easily divested her of the pillow, and grasped her wrists in his large hands. “All men are primitive louts,” he informed her. “Some just happen to conceal it better than others.”
“Which explains why I have never married.” Amanda wrestled with him briefly, enjoying the sensation of rubbing along his brawny naked body until his erection rose hot and hard between them. “Very primitive,” she said throatily, continuing to squirm until he gave a groaning laugh.
“Mhuirnin,” he muttered, “I feel compelled to remind you that I’ve done my best to satisfy you so far this evening…and you haven’t yet returned the favor.”
Amanda lowered her mouth to his, kissing him ardently and winning his eager response. She felt oddly unlike herself, wicked and remarkably free of inhibition. “I had better remedy that,” she remarked, her voice humming low in her throat. “I should hate not to be fair.”
Their gazes met, hers adventurous, his bright and passion-filled. Then Jack’s eyes closed as Amanda slid lower on his body, her mouth trailing a slow path along his taut skin.
For a woman who had always believed in the credo “Moderation in all things,” an affair with Jack Devlin was disastrous to her equilibrium. Her emotions careened from one extreme to another, from the all-consuming pleasure of being with him to the obsession and despondency that filled her when they were apart. There were private moments when melancholy rolled over her like a blanketing fog. It had something to do with a bittersweet understanding that this was all temporary, that soon their season of passion would be over. Jack was not really hers, nor would he ever be. The more Amanda came to understand him, the more she recognized his elemental unwillingness to give himself completely to a woman. She found it ironic that a man who was willing to take risks in every other area of his life should find it impossible to take the one chance that mattered most.
Amanda often felt deeply frustrated, wanting for the first time in her life to have all of a man, his heart as well as his body. It was her particular misfortune to desire this of Jack Devlin. But, she reminded herself, that did not mean that she had to remain alone for the rest of her years. Jack had taught her that she was a desirable woman, one with qualities that many men might appreciate. If she wanted, she could find a partner for herself after the affair was over. But in the meantime…in the meantime…
Mindful of the scrutiny of others, Amanda took care to arrive separately at parties, and to treat Jack with the same polite friendliness that she accorded the other men present. She did not betray their relationship with a single look or word. Jack was similarly careful to observe the proprieties, treating her with an exaggerated respect that both annoyed and amused her. As the weeks passed, however, Jack no longer seemed to regard their affair, and the need for secrecy, as lightly as he once had. It appeared to bother him that he could not claim her publicly. The fact that he had to share her company with others was a source of increasing frustration, one that he finally admitted to Amanda when they both attended a musical evening. He had managed to pull her away from the general assemblage during intermission, and steered her to a small parlor that was clearly not intended for the guests’ use.
“Have you gone mad?” Amanda gasped as he closed them both inside the unlit room. “Someone may have seen you pull me out of the main rooms. There will be gossip if it is noticed that we have both disappeared at the same time—”
“I don’t care.” His arms closed around her, jerking her against the solid weight of his body. “For the past hour and a half, I’ve had to sit apart from you and pretend not to notice other men leering at you. I want to go home with you now, dammit.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said shortly. “No one is leering at me. I don’t know what you are trying to accomplish with this pretend fit of jealousy, but I assure you that it is unnecessary.”
“I know a leer when I see one.” He drew his hands along the silk-and-velvet bodice of her russet-colored gown, letting his
palm cover the exposed valley of her cleavage. “Why did you wear this dress tonight?”
“I’ve worn it before, and you seemed to like it.” She shivered as the warmth of his hand passed over her tender skin.
“I liked it in private,” he muttered. “I never wanted you to wear it in public.”
“Jack,” she began, her stifled laugh cut short when he bent and dragged his mouth over the exposed skin of her chest. “Stop,” she whispered, quivering at the greedy stroke of his tongue in the vale between her breasts. “We’ll be found out…oh, let me go back before the music begins.”
“I can’t help it.” His voice was soft and gruff, his breath striking her skin in hot exhalations. He gathered her body against his and kissed her, his mouth tasting of brandy as he searched her avidly.
Amanda’s rising panic was swamped in a surge of desire so overwhelming that she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, her body helpless in his demanding hands. He pulled at her skirts, thrusting his hands inside her drawers so roughly that she feared they might tear. She gasped when his fingers slid between her thighs, searching and fondling the soft flesh until she writhed desperately. “Not now,” she said with a faint sob. “We’ll be together in a few hours. You can wait until then.”
“No, I can’t.” His breath quickened as he felt the moisture from her aroused body. Pulling at the tapes of her drawers, he loosened the undergarment and dropped it to her ankles, then fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers. He urged her back against the closed door and kissed her neck, the bristle from his shaven jaw abrading her and making her skin tingle.
“Jack,” she whimpered, tilting her head back even while the fear of being discovered made her heartbeat escalate to a violent clatter.
His mouth muffled her protests in a crush of heat and sensation, and to her despair, she could not resist the wicked pleasure of it. She kissed him back, opening to him eagerly, letting her thighs part as his leg intruded between hers. His erection nudged against her, a thrust of hardness and silk, and her hips jerked in an involuntary movement to accommodate him. He pushed more strongly, entering her in a deep, sure glide. Amanda groaned as she was filled completely, her body clamping tightly around the delicious invasion. One of his hands caught her knee from beneath, urging her leg higher against his, and he pushed strongly within her.
She shuddered, her body locked to him, and then a languorous warmth suffused her as she relaxed to his rhythm. Their clothes rustled together, crushed masses of silk and broadcloth and velvet separating them everywhere except in the wet, naked heat of their loins. She leaned against the door, her body rising with each upward drive. She was utterly possessed by him, no longer caring about the risk they were taking, conscious only of the ecstasy of his flesh joined to hers. Muttering fiercely into the curve of her neck, he thrust faster, creating silken friction that finally drove her into a scalding orgasm. He smothered her guttural cries with his mouth, and began to slide out of her in the way he always did just before climax. But it seemed that suddenly he was possessed by some irresistible primal urge, and instead of withdrawing, he buried himself inside her. His large body shook with the power of his release, and his quiet groan vibrated against her damp skin.
They remained together in the pulsing aftermath, breathing harshly, while his mouth moved gently over hers. Finally breaking the kiss, Jack spoke in a rasping whisper. “Dammit…I shouldn’t have done that.”
Feeling dazed, Amanda could barely manage a reply. Since their affair had begun, they had taken measures to prevent pregnancy, and this was the first time that Jack had left the outcome to chance. She tried to calculate the most likely days for conception. “It’s all right, I think,” she murmured, placing her hand on the side of his face. Although she could not see his expression, she felt the tautness of his jaw, and a terrible sense of unease came over her.
“Sophia!” Amanda exclaimed in disbelief. She hurried across the little entrance hall of her home to where her oldest sister was waiting. “You might have let me know you were planning a visit—I would have made preparations.”
“I merely want to see if you’re alive or dead,” came Sophia’s acerbic reply, making Amanda laugh.
Although Sophia was meddling and bossy by nature, she was also a loving sister with strong maternal instincts. She had often given voice to the family’s sentiments concerning Amanda’s untoward behavior. It was Sophia who had protested the loudest when Amanda had become a novelist and moved to London. Letters would arrive from Sophia, filled with advice that greatly amused Amanda, for they counseled her to beware of the temptations of town life. Perhaps Sophia would not have been surprised had she learned that Amanda had actually dared to hire a male prostitute for her own birthday. It seemed that her eldest sister recognized, as few others did, the streak of recklessness that occasionally surfaced in Amanda’s character.
“I am very much alive,” Amanda said brightly. “Only quite busy.” She glanced at her sister’s familiar figure with a fond smile. “You look well, Sophia.” For years, Sophia had possessed the same soft, slightly round-shouldered figure. Her hair was worn in the same neatly pinned chignon and she wore the same sweet vanilla scent that their mother had favored. Sophia was exactly as she appeared—an attractive country matron who competently managed a dull but respectable husband and five boisterous children.
Sophia held her at arm’s length and gave her a head-to-toe inspection. “I had feared to find you ill. That was the only reason I could fathom for your insistence on staying away from Windsor.”
“You could think of only one reason?” Amanda countered, laughing as she ushered her sister inside the house.
Sophia’s mouth quirked wryly. “Explain to me why I have been forced to come see you here, rather than receive you at my home. After avoiding the family at Christmas, you had promised to visit in January. It is now mid-February, and I have not heard a word from you. And don’t hand me nonsense about how overworked you are. You are always busy, and you’ve never let it keep you away from Windsor before.”
She removed her traveling-bonnet, a pretty but practical design of blue wool with a slanting crown and a brim that was shallow at the back and wider at the front.
“I am sorry that you have gone to such trouble,” Amanda replied contritely, taking her sister’s hat and matching cloak with its overlapping square collar. “However, I am delighted to have you here.” She took her time about setting the articles of apparel on the bentwood hanging rack in the entrance hall, making certain they were firmly placed on the porcelain-tipped hooks.
“Come with me to the parlor,” she urged. “Your timing could not be better, as I have just prepared a pot of tea. How were the roads from Windsor? Did you have difficulty—”
“Where are the servants?” Sophia interrupted suspiciously, following her into the cream-and-blue parlor.
“Sukey is at market with the cook, Violet, and Charles has gone to the wineshop.”
“Excellent. Now we may enjoy some privacy while you explain what has been going on.”
“Why do you think something has been going on?” Amanda parried. “I assure you, life is plodding along much the same as it always has.”
“You are a poor liar,” Sophia informed her serenely, seating herself on the settee. “Amanda, I must remind you that Windsor is hardly isolated from town. We do hear of goings-on in London, and there have been rumors concerning you and a certain gentleman.”
“Rumors?” Amanda regarded her with surprised dismay.
“And you look different.”
“Different?” In her sudden consternation, Amanda could only flush guiltily and repeat her sister’s words like some addled parrot.
“There is a look about you that makes me suspect that the rumors are true. You are indeed carrying on some kind of liaison with someone, aren’t you?” Sophia pursed her lips as she regarded her younger sister. “Obviously it is entirely within your rights to arrange your life as you choose…and I have accepted that you
are not one to bow to the dictates of convention. If you were, you could have married a man from Windsor and settled near your family. Instead, you sold Briars House, took up residence in London, and dedicated yourself to pursuing a career. I have often told myself, if all this makes you happy, then you are welcome to it—”
“Thank you,” Amanda interrupted with a touch of gentle sarcasm.
“However,” Sophia continued gravely, “your actions are now placing your entire future at risk. I wish you would confide in me, and allow me to help you sort things out.”
Amanda was tempted to counter Sophia’s words with as many bold-faced lies as were required to calm her suspicions. However, as she shared a long gaze with her sister, her eyes burned, and she felt a tear drop down her cheek.
“Sophia…what I need at the moment is an understanding listener. Someone who will not pass judgment on my actions. Could you possibly do that for me?”
“Of course not,” came Sophia’s crisp reply. “Of what use would I be to you if I did not give you the benefit of my good judgment? Otherwise, you might as well confide in the nearest tree stump.”
Laughing unsteadily, Amanda blotted her wet eyes with her sleeve. “Oh, Sophia, I am afraid you will be quite shocked by my confession.”
While their tea cooled in their cups, Amanda blurted out the story of her relationship with Jack Devlin, prudently editing a few details such as the circumstances of their first meeting. Sophia was expressionless as she listened, reserving comment until Amanda finished with a watery sigh.
“Well,” Sophia said thoughtfully, “I do not find myself as shocked as I perhaps should be. I know you quite well, Amanda, and I have never thought you would be happy living alone forever. While I do not approve of your actions, I understand your need for companionship. I must point out that had you taken my advice and married a nice man from Windsor, you would not be in your current predicament.”