How To Seduce A Sinner

Chapter Fourteen

Dorothea awoke in her bed, lying flat on her back, clad only in a light shift, her head pounding, her mouth parched. For a full minute she stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to recall how she got to her bedchamber and into her bed, but there were no memories of the event.

Wincing, she lifted her head from the pillow and stared out the window, trying to judge the time. Late afternoon? Early evening? There were only glimmers of dull gray light shining through the closed draperies, and she lacked the energy, and the strength, to walk across the room to open them.

Pressing the heel of her hand to her aching head, Dorothea struggled to recall the earlier events of the day. She had planned a picnic, but the rain had made it impossible. Carter had been pleased with her alternate plan of staying inside. They had enjoyed the food and the wine and the antics of her puppy, Lancelot, along with some congenial conversation.

They had laughed and flirted with each other. Carter had kissed her. Or did she kiss him? Either way, the velvety softness of his lips upon her skin had been a sensual delight. Dorothea vividly remembered responding to those kisses with her own passion and then…and then…?

Had they made love? Drat, she couldn’t remember. She moved her legs restlessly beneath the sheets, waiting to feel any physical evidence, but there was none. Sighing with relief, she rolled to her side. It would have been beyond awful to have made love with Carter for only the second time in their marriage and not remember a single detail.

There was a knock and then the bedchamber door opened. Dorothea sank beneath the sheets in total embarrassment. Yet through a wave of nausea she saw it was her maid, Sarah, who had entered the room. Not, thank the good Lord, Carter.

“Did you have a nice rest, my lady?” Sarah asked as she threw the draperies open wide.

Dorothea instantly shut her eyes as the light caused a dull pain to burn inside her head. “Is there any water?” she managed to croak.

It took but a moment for a large glass to be poured and brought to her. Grateful for Sarah’s naturally quiet demeanor, Dorothea soaked in the silence and gulped down her water. The cool liquid calmed her rolling stomach and helped to keep the room from spinning. She accepted a second glass, finished that, and then tried to prepare herself to leave the bed.

Standing upright was challenging, but possible. Taking several deep breaths to steady herself, Dorothea managed to swing her legs toward the floor and then stand on them. Clutching the bedpost, she staggered a few steps, then swallowed again deeply.

Sarah, bless her heart, said not a word, acting as if seeing her mistress in such a pitiful state was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Is Lord Atwood about?” Dorothea asked.

“No, my lady. He’s gone off with Mr. Higgins. He left right after you came upstairs to nap.”

“I see.” Dorothea tried to smile, but she was breathing too hard. Her efforts to stay upright and clearheaded were a great strain and a battle she feared she might be losing. She was fairly certain Mr. Higgins was the estate’s steward, but her cloudy mind was unsure. Still, the effort to inquire seemed far too exhausting, so Dorothea kept silent.

“Shall I have a hot bath prepared?” Sarah suggested.

A bath! What a perfectly marvelous notion. Dorothea shook her head eagerly, then winced as the pain shot down to her teeth. My goodness, even her hair hurt. “A bath sounds like heaven.”

With a knowing look, but a silent tongue, Sarah made the arrangements. Dorothea gratefully soaked in the hot water until it began to cool, then with the maid’s assistance gingerly stepped from the tub. Feeling infinitely more human, she instructed Sarah to plait her hair. Dorothea paired her simple silk evening gown of bright blue with a filigree gold necklace and matching earbobs that had belonged to her mother, and at last felt ready to go down to dinner.

She arrived in the drawing room in a mild state of panic, concerned with how Carter would react. Would he pretend her drunken behavior earlier in the day had never occurred? Would he chastise her? Or be overtly disapproving?

Husbands unfairly had the right to dictate their wife’s behavior and today’s incident had the potential to bring on a lively discord. Dorothea was unsure if her nerves and recently sore head could tolerate a long lecture.

She asked the footman hovering outside the drawing room door to please refrain from announcing her and instead slipped quietly into the room. Carter was already there, dressed in formal black evening clothes, looking wildly handsome. Her heart did its customary jump.

“Ah, Dorothea, how nice to see you. I was unsure you would be coming to dinner tonight.”

“Good evening, Carter.” Dorothea swallowed down her nerves and told herself to act nonchalant. It seemed the best way to get her feet to move forward. “I apologize for being so late. I hope you aren’t too famished.”

“Actually, I ate dinner earlier with Mr. Higgins. We had a great deal of business to discuss. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“I can join you at the table while you have your meal,” he offered.

“Actually, I’d prefer to have a light respite served in here.”

Carter nodded, then rang for a servant and relayed her request. “Oh, and be sure to bring tea with her ladyship’s food. A large, hot pot of tea.”

Dorothea stiffened her spine and told herself that was not the edges of a smile she saw on her husband’s face when he requested her tea. Though in truth, strong black coffee might have been a better choice. They made polite conversation as her meal was brought and laid out and the awkward tension pervading the air soon lifted.

Feeling like one of the stray birds Gwendolyn used to eagerly collect and care for when they were children, Dorothea took very small, dainty bites of her dinner. She avoided anything that had a sauce, was laden with excess butter or heavily spiced, opting for the plainer fare.

Thankfully, it all settled well in her stomach. As she emptied her teacup for the third time, she realized her husband’s gaze was intently fixed upon her. Lifting the linen napkin from her lap, Dorothea carefully dabbed at the corners of her mouth, then tilted her chin and met his eyes squarely.

“Better?” he asked with sympathy.

“Infinitely.” Feeling she needed to say something more, she added quietly, “I don’t normally drink that much wine. A glass usually, two at most.”

“I’m pleased to hear that. For a moment I worried with you in my household the bills from the wine merchants might beggar me.”

“Don’t be cruel, my lord,” she warned, though she smiled into her cup of tea.

He slid a look her way and winked. Oh, he was a sly one. A sly, sexy one. She shivered. “Shall we play some cards tonight?”

“Why not? Whist?”

She nodded. He produced a deck and beckoned her to the other side of the room. Dorothea waited as he opened the gaming table, then took the chair opposite his, reached for the cards, and idly shuffled the deck. “Shall we wager on the game or play for the fun of it?”

“Fun,” he said deliberately. “Your fingers are far too nimble with those cards, my dear. I fear if we play for money I shall be fleeced.”

Dorothea smiled. “Lord Dardington taught me.”

“That explains a lot. I heard he was quite the shark in his day.”

She nodded. “He is amazingly adept. When I first came to London he discouraged me from playing, declaring it a foolish waste of time and money.”

Carter picked up the cards she dealt him and casually arranged them in his hand. “And yet he still taught you?”

“He insisted. There are card games at nearly every society function, well, except for when one attends the theatre, and Lord Dardington had the good sense to realize I was not always going to listen to his and Lady Meredith’s advice. Therefore, if I was going to be exposed to card games, I should know how to play. And win.”

“I thank you for the warning. I shall be on my guard tonight.”

Dorothea laughed. She discarded two cards and drew two more. “I have a very strong suspicion that you are far from inexperienced in this area.”

His lips curled into a smile. “My idle, misspent youth has come back to haunt me.”

“I believe your card playing is far more recent than your long-ago misspent youth,” Dorothea answered, her suspicions confirmed when he placed his cards face up on the table. Three kings. A winning hand.

Carter paused, his expression one of mocking horror. “Are you saying that I am old, Lady Atwood?”

“Well, not as old as some.” She gave him a cocky grin, put the newly shuffled deck in the center of the table, and waited for him to cut the cards.

They played well into the night, nearly evenly matched in wins and losses. For a few moments Dorothea wondered if Carter was allowing her to win, but she soon rejected the idea. He was too competitive, but more important, too respectful of her to treat her like an inferior and contrive for her to win.

The clock chimed the midnight hour and they both looked at each other in surprise, startled to realize how quickly the time had gone. Carter suggested one final hand, which he won. They gathered the cards, folded the gaming table, and snuffed out the candles.

As she glided across the room, Dorothea realized her supper dishes had been cleared and the small table where she had eaten her meal returned to its rightful place in the room. Goodness, her attention had been so focused on the game, and her husband, she had neither seen nor heard the servants perform this task.

They started climbing the main staircase, and Dorothea searched for the words to tell him that she did not want tonight to be like all the others. She did not want to go to her bedchamber alone. She wanted him to come with her.

Yet when they reached the landing, her stomach tensed and her tongue failed. She pressed the heel of her hand to her chest and tried to ease the tightness, the panic. But it would not fade.

Seemingly unaware of her dilemma, Carter followed his usual nightly routine. With a pleasant smile, he lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed the inside of her wrist. “Good night, Dorothea. Sleep well.”

He turned away. Her heart leaped. Say something!

Letting out a small cry of distress, she reached out and caught him by the sleeve of his jacket. He looked down at her hand, then up to her face, his expression puzzled. It was now or never. “I would like a proper kiss, please,” she said. “If you don’t object?”

Dorothea’s heart raced as she felt the tension in his body markedly increase. Lifting her other hand, she slowly traced the curve of his jaw with her fingertip, hoping to encourage him.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The hallway is a drafty place for a proper kiss.”

There was an undercurrent in his voice that sent her pulse racing and her fear galloping. Dorothea’s resolve began to unravel. Stop thinking and start acting!

She turned herself into him and slid her hands up the front of his jacket. “My maid always makes certain there is a warm fire in my bedchamber.”

He tilted his head and considered her. She was struck by the force of his gaze and braced herself for his rejection. He had been playing a sensual game of cat and mouse with her for the past five days. She knew he desired her. But she did not know the rules of his game. She did not know if part of their play involved him controlling the situation. It was therefore prudent to be prepared for any eventuality, though in truth Dorothea knew she would feel devastated if he walked away from her now.

“I am not a saint, Dorothea. If we retire to your bedchamber, there will be more between us than a few heated kisses,” he declared.

“I should hope so,” she answered in a deliberately demure tone. “So, will you come with me?”

He slowly lowered his face to hers. The brush of his lips was whisper soft, yet filled with deep longing. The emotion behind it staggered her senses. “My God, Dorothea, I thought you would never ask.”

She swayed into him as her knees suddenly gave way. He laughed, a deep, sensual sound that further weakened her legs. Holding her tightly against his strong body, Carter half carried, half dragged Dorothea to her bedchamber. He dismissed the curious-eyed Sarah with a curt nod, then closed and locked the door.

The air was charged. The room warm. The silence deafening. Dorothea felt aware of everything around her, yet was incapable of forming a coherent thought. But tonight was not for thinking. Tonight was for feeling.

She placed her arms around Carter’s neck. Then, standing on her toes, she molded the curves of her body against his, lifted her chin, and kissed him full on the lips. The flame, now struck, quickly flared into a sensual fire.

Carter stroked his tongue slowly against her lower lip and she eagerly parted for him. As he deepened the kiss, he tugged at the pins in her hair. A cluster of her golden tresses tumbled down her back, and he searched for the remaining pins.

At the same time, Dorothea reached for the knot of his white cravat. Their arms bumped and tangled awkwardly. They stopped, regrouped, then tried again, achieving the same result.

“We seem to be working at cross-purposes,” Carter grumbled. He took a step back. Smiling, he loosened the knot of his cravat, yanked the linen strip from his neck, and dropped it on the floor. “Your turn.”

Dorothea’s breath caught. Slowly she removed the remaining hairpins, tossing them on her dressing table. Carter’s jacket went next, followed by her shoes. His waistcoat for her stockings. Her jewelry for his shoes. His shirt for her…

“Gown,” he said softly. “Remove your gown. Please?”

She swallowed. Did she dare? “I can’t release all the buttons down the back.”

“Turn around.”

His hoarse voice rasped along the edges of her nerves. Dorothea closed her eyes and did as he bade. His touch was gentle but the warmth and pressure of his hands weakened her knees even further. When the last button was free he stepped away. Slowly she pivoted around to face him.

His seductive eyes shimmered with something raw and brutal. They caught and captivated her. She could see how badly he wanted her, could almost feel the strain as he struggled to hold back his desire. Was she really going to do this? Her mind and pulse raced, knowing she was playing with fire.

Never one to give half-measures, Dorothea fought back her fear and lifted her chin boldly. She slid the sensual silk gown down one shoulder, then angled her body toward him as she did the same with the other. The garment fell off her upper torso, catching near her waist. Swaying her hips seductively, she encouraged the gown to fall further and it soon puddled at her feet.

Carter’s breathing grew harsher, his eyes darker. Heat flooded her at his reaction, yet she shivered mightily at the evidence of his growing passion. Without saying a word, he unbuttoned the fall of his breeches, shoved them and his underclothes down his legs in one quick motion, and kicked them off.

Dorothea’s teasing, playful attitude abruptly vanished as she caught sight of his lean muscles, broad shoulders, and full, jutting arousal. She peered under her lashes at him, her body flushing. His gaze roamed over her, lingering sensually on her breasts and at the shadow between her thighs, his mouth pressed in a hard, hungry line.

The scent of passion filled the air, crackling sensuously around them. Her fingers shook so badly she could barely untie the silk ribbon fastenings at the neckline of her chemise. Finally they gave way.

More silence. Dorothea’s heart pounded against her throat. She could see his eyes staring at every inch of her flesh and she wanted to turn and hide. Never had she felt so emotionally and physically exposed. It was anguish. It was ecstasy.

Carter could see her struggle. He waited. If she turned from him he’d most likely lose his mind and smash the room to bits, but it had to be her decision. He would not make love to her unless she believed she was ready.

Her body was perfection. He stared at the curves of her breasts, so full and round, remembering how they had filled his hands. His body ached with desire and still he waited.

A step. Just one small step. That was all he needed, for her to take a step toward him. Carter smiled wolfishly and held out his hand. Her cheeks reddened and he realized she had glanced down at his erection. His penis rose with great interest at her curious perusal. Dorothea’s eyes widened.

“You are even more beautiful than I recall,” he rasped.

“You’ve thought of me?”

The laugh that bubbled from his chest was more of a groan. “You have haunted my dreams and most of my waking hours for days, my pretty little wife.”

She moved her upper body forward, leaned only a fraction toward him, but it was enough. Enough to let him know she was ready. Carter scooped her into his embrace. He nuzzled her neck, kissed her throat, licked her earlobe. She let her head fall back, offering herself to him, and that simple act of surrender was his undoing.

The warm, womanly scent of her body filled his head as his mouth traveled lower. He licked her budding nipples with long strokes, then took the tips in his mouth and sucked. Dorothea moaned, then laced her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

He swept her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Dorothea felt the cool smoothness of the silk spread against her back. A sharp contrast to the hot, hard male body that covered her on top.

He looked deeply into her eyes as he caressed her body, running his hand smoothly down the flat of her belly, then settling between her thighs. His fingers coaxed and teased until she lifted herself toward him, begging for more. He answered her silent plea by pressing the heel of his hand against her core. She moaned and rocked against him, her breath coming loud and fast.

She ran her palms frantically over the strong muscles of his back. His skin was smooth and so hot it nearly burned. She felt her body lift itself toward him as she strained to bring herself closer. He kissed her lips hungrily, possessively, at the same time he slipped a finger between the damp folds of her womanhood.

“Carter,” she moaned, tossing her head back against the pillows.

He trailed a line of kisses down her throat, across her breasts and belly, then settled his mouth against the honey curls that hid her womanly secrets.

Dorothea sat up in the bed. “Whatever are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.

“I’m kissing you.”

Carter slowly pressed her shoulders back against the mattress. She reluctantly complied, but when he lowered his head again, her entire body contracted in shock.

It was too much! Too wicked, too intimate, too embarrassing. His breath touched her first and then she felt his fingers moving through her golden curls, opening the soft pink lips of her womanhood.

At the first wet stroke of his tongue she bit her lip to keep from screaming, but then he gently sucked the aching, sensitive bud of flesh where the most intense sensations were gathered. All thoughts of embarrassment fled.

She strained and quivered and arched herself off the mattress, feeling the tension build. Then suddenly, it was gone.

“Wait. No, don’t stop,” she cried between frantic pants for breath. “I’m nearly there.”

“I think it will be better if you reach your climax with me inside you,” he insisted, settling himself above her.

She shivered in heated anticipation as he lowered his hips. He rubbed his cock against her inner thigh, and her excitement spilled over the edge. She moaned and stretched her legs wider, encouraging his possession.

She could feel the thick, round head of his penis start to push inside her in a slow, patient rhythm. There was no pain this time, only a sense of fullness, a sense of completion. Dorothea opened her eyes and was transfixed by the sight of him. His chest shiny with sweat, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexed and bulging, the passion and intensity in his eyes all consuming. It was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen.

“Deeper,” she moaned, locking her legs around him. “Faster.”

He groaned and thrust forward, then drew back and shoved his entire length deep inside her. She rose to meet him, pushing her hips up off the mattress. The gesture seemed to make him lose control and he rode her harder and faster.

She felt her climax inching closer. He thrust once more, deep and hard, and her limbs stiffened as they started shaking with pleasure. Her inner muscles clenched as he continued to push her higher and higher, triggering his own peak. He shook and spasmed his release and she felt his warm, wet seed invade her welcoming body.

His head fell to the pillow beside hers. He was heavy and hard, but she didn’t mind the crushing weight. She could hear his panting breath, as loud and rapid as her own. Then she felt the mattress dip and realized he had slid to her side, but was still close enough she could feel the heat and strength of his body.

“Are you all right?” he asked solemnly. “Was there any pain?”

She closed her eyes, hardly knowing what to say. Pain? Not a bit. She was floating, caught in a rapture of emotions she could not define or understand. She snaked her arm out until she found his hand. Gripping it tightly, she twined her fingers between his, never wanting to let go.

I love you. The words rose from her heart and hovered on her lips, the utter truth of them slamming into her with breath-stealing force. She loved him. The extraordinary certainty of it wrapped firmly around her heart. That was why their lovemaking had been so extraordinary tonight.

Partly Carter’s skill, of course, and partly her determination to have this aspect of their life be a pleasant one, but mainly it was the engaging of her heart. That was the true difference between tonight and their wedding night.

She was attracted to him, trusted him, but most importantly, she loved him. Her love had allowed her to hold nothing back, to give of herself completely and with wanton abandonment.

“There was no pain,” she finally answered.

“Good. Very good.” He brushed the hair from her eyes, then gazed at her for a long moment, his expression tender.

“Is it always like this?” she whispered. “I mean, when one isn’t a virgin?”

“No, hardly ever, really.” Carter bent his arm, rested his elbow on the mattress, and propped his head on his open palm. “The attraction between us is strong, yet tonight it flared with an unexpected heat.” He shook his head ruefully. “’Tis unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”

Dorothea’s chest tightened with emotion. Unlike anything he had ever experienced. She liked the sound of that, liked it very much indeed.

The declaration of love hung on her lips, but she clamped them shut. She was not ready yet to speak of it. The emotions were too new, too intense, too profound to voice. It was too precious to reveal. The practical side of her nature, a small element at most times, was screaming at her loudly now, warning her to be cautious. It was too soon, too new to test this fragile love.

And greatly fearing to do anything else, Dorothea heeded that inner voice.

Over the next week, their relationship changed. It was as if a dam of sensuality and sexual freedom had burst and they were simply unable to keep their hands off each other. All it took was a look from Carter, a dark, sensual look, and Dorothea was on fire. She melted quickly at the caress of his hands; the pressure of his lips on any part of her body instantly filled her with longing. A longing for the physical fulfillment, but more desperately a longing for love. For Carter’s love.

There were times when she felt on the verge of revealing her emotions, of proclaiming her love and devotion. Of shouting it out loudly when they rode together about the estate. Of whispering it softly in his ear when they reclined on the rocks at the lake, their fishing poles bobbing in the water.

Oddly, every moment seemed like the perfect time, but when the words bubbled to the surface, as they so often did, something held her back. Something in the depths of his eyes. A hesitation, a fear almost. As if he knew what she wanted to say and he was desperate to keep her from uttering those words. Because he feared them? Because he did not understand them? Because he did not return them?

She didn’t know the reason, so she kept her love hidden, locked away. And though a joyous feeling, it also made her vulnerable, for it frightened her, knowing how her heart would shatter if Carter rejected her love.

Oh, what a foolish, naïve young woman she had been when she came to London, believing that a marriage without love was an acceptable, even preferable one. She knew better now.

But she stubbornly refused to think beyond that point. It stood to reason that if she could fall in love with Carter, than he could fall in love with her. In moments of weakness, she toyed with the idea of trying to force the issue, but a voice of reason always held her back.

True love, lasting love, required complete honesty. And the truth was that she wanted to be loved for herself, rather than what someone wanted her to be.

“We return to London tomorrow,” Carter announced at breakfast.

There was quiet as Dorothea contemplated the slice of half-eaten toast on her dish. Why did they have to leave? Things were going so very well between them, weren’t they? Was he growing bored with her? Tired of her exclusive company? “I shall instruct Sarah to pack my trunks.”

“Excellent. I’d like to get an early start.” Carter cleared his throat. “I think it would be best if Lancelot stays behind. A young dog of his breed needs a large area to run and play.”

Dorothea sipped her hot chocolate. “There are plenty of parks in Town. I’m sure I can find a patch of green for him to frolic.”

“And no doubt get trampled by a horse. Really, Dorothea, it’s for his safety. We’ll return in a few weeks, once the Season has officially ended.”

Dorothea felt a lump of emotion clog her throat, but she swallowed it down. She was upset at having to leave the puppy behind, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that it would only be for a short time. “If you think it best, then he will stay here.”

She could practically feel Carter’s sigh of relief. Marriage is about compromise, she told herself sternly.

Leaving her darling Lancelot was difficult, but she was far more distressed at leaving Ravenswood, worried that once they left this idyllic place and returned to the distractions of society they would leave the best part of their relationship behind.

Was passion enough to keep their marriage close? Would she be able to hold her love inside herself, be content with having whatever part of himself Carter was willing to share, as she had so boastfully proclaimed before their wedding?

Secretly she feared she would not, for now that she had come to know him so well, she did not want a small part, she wanted all of him.