“What?”
She stood and went to him. “Carlyle, it is you I want.”
“I know it will infuriate you if I say that what you want doesn’t matter, but-”
It was her turn to shut him up with a kiss. Given the difference in their height, it was not easy for her to do, but it was not impossible…because his mouth met hers halfway.
“My dear, my dear,” he whispered into her hair, holding her head when he broke it off. “There is a way…but only if you let me love you as I wish.”
She nodded, nestling against his chest. “And what is that?”
“Call it the ultimate kiss.”
“I beg your pardon. I thought we had done that.”
He clasped her waist with both hands. “Can you send the servants away?”
“Are we still keeping up appearances?”
He smiled. “For as long as possible.”
Susannah was naked in her bed, alone with him, and it felt…glorious. Utterly glorious. He had removed every stitch of her clothing, admiring and loving every inch of flesh as it was revealed to his hungry eyes. Feeling utterly unself-conscious, she watched him take off his clothes, remembering how often and how immodestly she had imagined what his body looked like.
He was perfection. Broad shoulders tapered to a flat belly and muscular sides that went in at the hips. He stood with long, muscular legs apart, his erect cock jutting out proudly, looking down at it when she did. “No, my dear. Not yet.”
“But I want to,” she whispered, on fire with a heavy longing.
He shook his head and came to her, sliding between the sheets and encompassing her in his powerful embrace as they lay side by side. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her neck, and smoothed her disheveled hair. “You will have everything you want. But you will also remain a virgin. In that way I will keep my promise-and you will be able to decide if you truly want me or some other man.” He breathed a soft laugh into her ear. “Who will never be able to tell that you have been loved by another.”
“What do you mean, Carlyle?”
His hand slipped down, caressing her belly, and he touched the outside of her most intimate flesh with a gentle finger. “Open your legs.”
She obeyed, clutching his shoulders, but he moved out of her grasp and down as he flung back the sheet.
He pressed her thighs apart somewhat more and then…put his mouth where his finger had been. Susannah felt a soft sensation unfold deep within her, as his gentle tongue began to lick her there lovingly. Whatever this was called, she wanted it. She arched her back, presenting herself instinctively, craving more. He took the tiny nubbin inside the folds between his lips and sucked it lightly. Cascades of sensual pleasure made her tremble and she began to moan.
Carlyle took his mouth away and sat up, caressing her breasts with expert skill. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, tugging lightly and watching her writhe with a pleasure she had never known.
“I must confess, Susannah-I saw you in that corset by accident when I stepped out on my balcony. I wanted to do this then. You were playing with the little rosebuds on it.” He let go and took her hands, placing them on her breasts. “Play with your nipples while I…” He said no more.
Dreamily, on fire with desire, she began to pinch her nipples rather harder than he had done. She felt his stiff cock bump her side as he sat back and watched, and she looked up in his eyes. “Like that?” she whispered.
“Yes. You are so beautiful, Susannah. Innocent still…” He parted the folds of the swollen flesh between her legs and touched her hymen with a fingertip. She began to shake and grabbed her breasts hard. “But wanton at heart. I am proud to be the man who touches you first. But I will not take you.”
She let go of herself and reached up to him. Carlyle grasped her wrists and prevented her from holding him. Then he put his mouth between her legs and resumed his tender lovemaking. The feeling grew stronger and stronger and she held her thighs as wide as she could, desiring the pleasure that shot through her. His lovingness opened her soul-and his sexual skill made her moan his name over and over.
Susannah reached down to hold his head, then grabbed his hair when he suckled the little bud tightly between his lips and teased the tip of it with his fluttering tongue.
Oh, oh, oh…
Chapter Five
They were sharing a postcoital dinner and conspiratorial winks. Susannah had managed to wriggle into a corset-not the dangerous one-and fasten her dress by herself. The candlelight hid her faint air of disarray, she hoped. Out by the back door before the servants returned and in by the front door when they were about the house, Carlyle was soberly dressed and impeccably groomed, the picture of upright manliness once more.
In more ways than one, she reflected, looking at him adoringly. He had not reached climax as she had, preferring to wait and putting her from him when she protested, saying with a laugh that there would be time enough for that. But he had let her explore his nakedness as much as she wished once she agreed not to arouse him too much, and she had taken her time about it, not knowing when she would have the chance to do so again.
He was attacking a chop at the moment. Something about the vigorous use of knife and fork told her that the physical frustration bothered him rather more than he would admit to her. Still, Susannah appreciated his self- restraint. Was there ever a virgin who had felt so satisfied in the history of the world?
His suggestion-that she wait and see which man she wanted-was simply absurd. There was no other man. She only wanted him. Susannah wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
Carlyle was gnawing on the bone of his chop almost ferociously and looking at her with the same tenderness he had shown in bed. She half expected him to growl just to make her laugh-and he did.
Susannah nodded to the maid, Molly, who brought in the next course, a puddinglike lump of something that could have originally been potatoes, perhaps mashed up with beets. It was dark red, blotched with brown. “Thank you. That looks delicious.”
Molly set the dish on the table and withdrew.
“It looks terrifying,” Carlyle said, poking it with a fork. The lump emitted a blast of steam. “English food is dreadful. Perhaps we should hire an Indian cook.”
“I would be happy to move back.”
“You cannot.”
She permitted herself a pout. “If you say so. But I might move somewhere else. Italy is warm.”
He took a bite of the puddinglike lump and made a face, putting down the fork. “Hmm. You seem to like countries that begin with I. What about Ireland? I believe that they do not treat potatoes as badly as this in that country.”
“Cold and damp.”
“Go to Ifrica, then. Or Istralia. Very warm, both of them. And there is always Imerica.”
“You are being very silly.” She laughed. “And I don’t want to go alone. Do keep in mind that we are not married.” Carlyle gave her a fond look, as if that fact made him happy. Beastly of him-but he was still the beast she wanted.
He rose from his chair and tossed his napkin on the table. “I only wish to grant you the freedom you seem to want so much.”
“Bah. I want-” she blushed-“more of what you-what we-just did.”
Carlyle came around and put his hands on her shoulders, glancing through the open door to the hall to make sure they were quite alone before he slid his hands over her bosom. He caressed her breasts in a way that brought back every single sensation she had experienced in bed with him. “Do you now?”
“Yes.”
“Not tonight, my darling.” He bent to kiss the top of her head. “But soon. I don’t know when.”
