her eyes tight, not wanting to see his expectant look. He could not possibly understand what he was asking of her. It was taking all her skill to remain calm and not succumb to the things he wished from her. Did she truly have to explain to him that kisses and petting were unnecessary, once they had got to this stage? Did he mean to paw at her breasts, trying to arouse her before pushing himself into her and having his way? To feel pleasure from such a thing, when one had no choice in partners, was the definition of defeat.
‘My elbow,’ she said, hoping that the sarcasm would put a stop to the questions.
‘Your elbow.’ Without hesitation, he reached for her arm.
She pulled it away. ‘The left one. Not the right.’
He laughed. ‘I do not know how I could have forgotten.’ He cupped it in his palm and yanked her forward, so she was stretched the length of his body. Then he pulled her bent arm to his lips.
‘What are you doing?’ she said, unsure whether to laugh or scream. But it was obvious what he was doing. His tongue was circling the little round knob of bone now, as his whole mouth closed over it, sucking and laving as though it were her nipple.
‘Exactly what you asked,’ he said, blowing on the skin. ‘Although it hardly seems fair to ignore your other arm.’ His fingers were toying with that, giving a sharp pinch before running the nail lightly back and forth along the skin.
It was too ridiculous to be angry with him. And to her surprise, it was rather pleasant. When he pressed in a certain way, there was an occasional tingle of the nerves beneath that made her breasts tighten as they rubbed against the hair on his chest.
He paused. ‘Was that what you meant? Or perhaps you meant the inside of your arm,’ He turned his head and buried it in the crook of her arm.
Now this was something quite different. The deep, open-mouthed contact reminded her of something. One of the pictures in the etching book had held her attention for some time. A man’s head rested between a woman’s legs. He could not be emulating that, could he?
But he was the one who had the book. And he was nipping at the skin of her arm as though trying to take a pinch of it between his teeth. Now his tongue was working, probing, hard against soft, as though he meant to lose himself in her flesh...
‘Oh, God.’ Had she actually said that and in such a gasping, desperate voice? Because at the thought of his tongue, and what it could do, she was as wet between her legs as if he had licked her. His member rested between her thighs and she squirmed against it, not sure if she was trying to resist or encourage. ‘I was not serious,’ she whispered, wishing he would stop, but fearing it as well.
He paused for a moment, looking up at her with a smile. ‘I know. But a woman who teases will be teased in return. It is fair, is it not?’ He rested a thumb where his mouth had been and turned to her right arm.
She moaned in response and circled her hips, rubbing against him to spread the moisture and the sensations that came with it. It was not supposed to be like this. She was sure of it. The detachment she needed to maintain her sanity was melting like spring snow.
She was losing her mind over nothing at all. The only contact between the most intimate parts of their bodies was the result of her urging. And urge she did, wanting desperately to break his resolve as she had last night.
He paused again, dropping a brief kiss on to the skin of her forearm. ‘My memory returns, I think. You like this as well, do you not?’ Suddenly, he dropped his hands to her legs and pulled them up, until her body spread over his. Then he ran his fingers slowly over the skin at the back of her bent knees.
She gripped the pillow on either side of his head with clenched fists. Of their own volition, her hips bucked against his. His touch should be harmless, but her body was on fire, burning up with the need to be filled. And still he did not advance.
She forgot her need to be passive, the importance of compliance and the need to keep herself apart and safe. She released the pillow and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. But he continued to tease her, running the tip of his tongue along the edge of her teeth and going no further. His fingers played at the back of her legs, stroking at the crease in the skin until all she could think of was his hand between her legs.
She rubbed her body against his, needing the contact, the touch of his tip against the nub of pleasure hidden in the folds of her body. And suddenly she was as far away from her fears as she had ever longed to be. There was no peace here, no separation from the needs of her body. There was only the wildest kind of pleasure, pounding blood, beating heart and the trembling of each ecstatic muscle. Somewhere, in a very distant place, she was begging for more, calling him her beloved, Will, William, Will.
When he was slow to respond, she pushed away from him, reached down, gripped his manhood and impaled herself on it, soaring even higher as he thrust within her. She held him close with arms and legs and the very centre of her being.
When had she ever felt like this before? It was if her body was one with his, feeling that rush of release that men seemed to crave above all things. He was already spent when she came back to earth again, sinking slowly down the length with a sigh, too weak to move.
He took the opportunity to roll her to the left side of the bed again, the one she preferred. Then he followed her, burying his face against her breasts and taking the nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking. His fingertips played over her body with feather-light touches, stroking her shoulders, her calves, and slipping between her legs. Before she could protest, she was flying again, not as high as she had, but flying all the same, then settling gently back down to see Will’s smiling face, close to hers.
‘Justine,’ he whispered. ‘Justine. If you were not already mine, I would have to make you so, after this night. How could I have lived, before I met you? And how could I go on without you?’
‘You will not have to,’ she whispered. ‘I am yours, for now, and for ever.’ It was good, for a change, to be speaking the truth to him, for that was what this was. She knew not how, but she would make it so. Diamonds or no diamonds, she would be William Felkirk’s wife.
* * *
Will stared at the ceiling through half-closed eyes. How good it was to feel this way again, exhausted from lovemaking, half-sleeping, half-waking, with a beautiful woman in his arms. Justine lay curled beside him, sweet and soft as a kitten, her face pressed against his shoulder as if she had fallen asleep in the middle of a kiss.
He was struck, once again, by how unexpected she was. If he’d had to envision the woman he would take as his wife, she would not have been it. He rather thought he’d have ended up with one of the giggling chits at Almack’s. Though empty headed, they seemed the most logical choice. He would choose the least annoying of the bunch and marry her. They would be seen around London together, travelling in a smart set, going to parties, dinners, musicals and balls. Eventually, there would be children.
But this girl? Empty headed was the last thing he’d have thought to call her. There was a sense that something was going on, running deep, like the proverbial still waters. But on the surface, there was the quiet of an undisturbed pond. Did she like parties, games and dancing? If so, she did not say.
She liked marmalade and novels. And him. He smiled. In her company, he found an unexpected joy in quiet. The sight of her in his sitting room, in her plain cap, bent over her needlework was a study in contrast. It made him want to uncover the beauty beneath the simple gown and peel back the linen covering her hair, so that he might kiss
