How to Be a Proper Lady

“Viola.” His voice sounded taut. She jerked her head up. He was staring at the ceiling and breathing hard.

“Is something wrong?” She spread her hands on his chest and moved up his body to kiss him on his jaw, the day’s shade of whiskers wonderfully rough to her lips.

“On the contrary.” His eyes were liquid sapphires, like the sea. “But at the risk of sounding impatient, I am-”

“Impatient?”

“Eager to consummate the moment.”

“That is the same thing.”

“Not entirely.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, drew her to him and kissed her, then murmured against her lips, “And might you consider not arguing now?” He released her to remove his trousers. Viola got all quivery inside.

“Y-yes.” She snapped her gaze back to his face. His eyes glimmered with amusement. “No. I mean to say, no, I will argue if I wish to, or if there is suitable cause to-”

He pulled her onto his lap and quite abruptly she had nothing whatsoever to argue about with him.

They made love. She did not argue. He did not tease or make her suffer, not in the usual manner, at least. But he did serve her as he said he would, although she did not need to ask him to do so.

Perhaps it was this serving that altered the rhythm of their desire for each other. Or perhaps it was the wonder that trembled in her from the beauty and sobriety in his eyes as he touched her. For shortly there was heard no laughter, no clever ripostes, no demands or even reasonable expressions of gratitude. There were instead the soft sounds of pleasure freely given and fervently taken, and the thunder of hearts poised on the brink of that greatest and most thrilling abyss.

Viola fell into the abyss quite willingly. In truth, she had fallen months ago and would not, she realized now, ever climb out of it no matter how she tried. Jin held her tight, his strong arms banded around her, face buried in her shoulder. Every nerve strained toward the completion he would give her, she trailed her fingertips down his back.

“Jin?”

He looked into her eyes, and the intensity of his gaze knocked the air from her lungs. There was distance there, and pain.

Alarm sluiced through her. “Jin?”

He dragged her off him, took her down onto her back on the soft rug, and thrust inside her. He groaned and pulled out entirely, then thrust again.

“Ohh.” It felt so good. Better than good. She clung to his shoulders, meeting him with each powerful thrust he drove into her. Then more, and more. She grabbed the edge of the rug, steadying herself and arching beneath him to make it come faster, the need twining frantically. She fought for breath, fought against his punishing thrusts that pleased-such pleasure. Then, clutching his waist, she forced him to her. Again and again.

When it came, it was deeper, harder, tearing her apart and bursting out her fingertips and toes. “Oh, my God.”

“Christ, Viola.” He shuddered, his muscles like rock as he shook beneath her hands.

She gulped in air, circled her arms about his shoulders, and welcomed his weight atop her.

He did not remain long.

“I am crushing you.” Every muscle in her body had gone lax, but his voice was strangely tight.

“I don’t mind it much.” At all.

“Nevertheless.” He drew away from her, onto his heels. But his gaze did not leave her. Simply, quietly, looking only into her eyes, he said, “Miss Carlyle, you are beautiful.”

Through her exhaustion and thorough satisfaction, she attempted a saucy smile. “I am familiar now with the wicked flattery of gentlemen, sir. You are only saying that because you hope I will take you to my bed.”

The edge of his mouth curved up the slightest bit. He scooped her into his arms. “Better late than never.” He laid her down on the thick coverings and she burrowed beneath, her damp skin cold in the night and the fading coal fire. Now he would dress and say something perfectly reasonable or perhaps infuriating, and he would leave. Then she would spend the next forty years sewing the pieces of her heart back together again.

But he did not leave. Instead he lay down beside her and, as he had done at the inn, closed his eyes. It seemed to him the most natural thing in the world to do. Yet it turned her world upside down.

Nerves ragged, she remained awake, staring at him for a long time. The handsome planes of his face did not soften in sleep but were enhanced into severity by the light of the dying embers. And slowly she saw what she had not seen before, a man wary and troubled, as though in sleep he could not conceal what he would never reveal when waking.

It pulled at her heart. She wanted to know what worried him. She wanted more than anything to touch that delectable mouth and smooth the tension from his jaw, to wrap her arms around him and tell him that whatever he faced, he needn’t face it alone.

But he would not take that well. He was a man who needed no one. She was coming to understand this, and it made her heart ache more than she had imagined possible.

Still, she leaned toward him, her fingertips hungry for the grave line of his cheek.

“Do you always have difficulty settling down to sleep?” His voice rumbled.

She jerked back. “I thought you were asleep.”

“As you might be as well.”

Her heart thumped as it had when he first appeared in the corridor, but with a yearning so much more powerful.

“I am afraid that if I sleep,” she whispered, “when I wake up you will be gone.”

His eyes opened and the warmth in them seized not her breaths this time but her very soul. So, she supposed he owned that too now, not merely her heart.

He turned onto his shoulder and cupped her face in his big palm, and passed his thumb gently across her lower lip.

“I will not go.”

“You did upon each of the other occasions.” She didn’t care that she was revealing herself. She loved him so thoroughly.

“If you do not wish it, Viola, I will not go.”

She wanted to ask if he meant only tonight or this week or forever. But the courage that had seen her through kidnapping and tempests and grief and loneliness deserted her. She could not bear to hear his reply now because she knew what it would be. Tonight she wanted, for one precious moment, to be only with him and imagine it would last forever.

She leaned forward and placed her lips on his. His hand moved to the back of her head and he kissed her softly, tenderly, making her imagine that he cared for her. He had a truly black heart to string her along like this. If she were a typical flimsy sort of female she might be devastated when he did leave. Fortunately she was made of sterner stuff.

She drew away, pulled the covers to her chin and, feet and heart both quite sore, finally she slept.

Chapter 26

He woke her before dawn with kisses. First on her mouth, then her cheeks and neck, rousing her gradually, then not so gradually when his hand cupped her breast. With his fingertips he caressed the peak, then with his tongue. She murmured her consent and pleasure. Eyes closed, she slid her arms about his waist and welcomed him to her.

This time it was different. They knew each other’s bodies, the familiarity of skin and heat, and they moved slowly, luxuriously savoring their joining. There was no urgency or haste, only the perfection of form and feeling