Not Quite A Gentleman

Nineteen

If Today’s Modern Woman is in a situation where she must choose between two or more gentlemen, she will likely find the practical nature of her mind at war with the emotional nature of her heart. In such cases she must ask herself, is it best to choose based on financial and social considerations or to follow the desires of her heart?

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

Victoria hurried down the corridor toward her bedchamber, filled with a giddy, heady sense of anticipation. By previous agreement, Nathan had retired shortly after dinner, while she remained with Aunt Delia and Nathan’s father in the drawing for a quarter hour, after which time she, too, retired. But sleep was definitely not in her plans. Nathan… Had an entire week passed since that first night he’d come to her room? It seemed the time had gone by in a blink-time during which they’d been unsuccessful at locating the jewels, but had in every other way proven fulfilling beyond her wildest dreams.

Using the grid map Nathan had devised, they spent the days systematically inspecting each section, exploring dozens of rock outcroppings, searching in crevices and small caves, looking for a shape that resembled the picture she had drawn. As each square on the map was eliminated, Victoria’s hopes that they’d locate the missing cache faded a bit more. Further hindering their attempts, they’d as yet received no response from her father to Nathan’s letter, but given the distance to London, that was to be expected.

Nathan never strayed far from her side during their outings, always wary of them being set upon again. At his insistence, he’d hidden a small lady’s pistol for her protection in the tool bag containing their hammers and chisels. The fact that there were no further instances renewed their optimism that the brigand who’d stolen the fake note and map was indeed far away on a wild goose chase and had not deduced that he possessed erroneous information.

Those hours spent searching for the jewels were also hours together with Nathan. Laughing, learning, talking, discovering new facets of him and of herself. She brought him to the gardens and taught him to make a mud pie-then led him to a dark corner in the conservatory and had her wicked way with him. He brought her to the beach and taught her to make a sand castle-then led her to the crystal cave and had his wicked way with her. He took her for a ride on the lake in his small boat and taught her to row. She learned not only how to work the oars but that standing up in a rowboat is not wise if one wishes not to capsize. That directly led to her discovery that the temperature of a chilly lake is gloriously forgotten while making love in the water-and instantly recalled once the heat of passion is spent.

Nathan showed her how to catch crabs, kissed her finger when one pinched her with its claws, then applauded when she caught a dozen of the feisty crustaceans on her own. They’d proudly delivered their catch to Cook, who prepared them for dinner that night, a meal they shared with Aunt Delia and Nathan’s father, who, it was plain to see, were getting on extremely well together. For the past seven days, it had been just the four of them sharing meals and retiring to the drawing room after dinner. Nathan’s brother had not returned from his excursion to Penzance, sending a note that business required him to stay away, and Lord Alwyck had not made a return visit.

One morning, to her delight, Nathan brought her to the kitchen and helped her realize her childhood dream by having Cook teach her to bake a pie. She’d burned part of the crust, but Nathan ate it anyway, declaring it delicious. That evening after dinner, while her aunt and Lord Rutledge played backgammon, Nathan brought her to the billiards room and taught her to play-or rather, he tried to, as she proved quite hopeless at it, a fact she blamed on the distracting nature of her instructor. They then retired to the music room, where she attempted to teach him a song on the pianoforte. For a man with such talented fingers, he possessed no aptitude for music-but an amazing skill for insinuating his talented fingers under her skirt.

Yet even though she reveled in the sensual delights and discoveries they shared, she enjoyed his company just as much while doing nothing more exciting than drinking tea. What struck Victoria the most was the way he talked to her. Listened to her. How he sought her opinion on a wide spectrum of topics. How he didn’t make her feel foolish if she didn’t know something, and how intently he paid attention when she did. The gentle way he teased her, challenged her, encouraged her to think about things to which she’d previously given little consideration, such as politics.

He fascinated her with his personal theories on medicine and healing, a number of which were in direct opposition to currently accepted methods. They spent hours debating the works of Shakespeare and Chaucer, Byron’s poetry and Homer’s Iliad. It seemed that they grew closer every day, and she realized that in addition to being her lover, he was also her friend. A friend who could set her blood on fire with a mere look.

And then there were the seven glorious nights she’d spent in Nathan’s arms. Making love, exploring each other’s body, enjoying the countless intimacies lovers share. Sometimes their mating was a soft, slow dance, other times a fast, furious race. He helped her discover what pleased her and urged her to discover what pleased him, although as far as she could tell, he was very easily pleased. And now, hurrying the last few steps to her bedchamber, where she knew he awaited her, her heart skipped in anticipation of the sensual delights tonight would hold.

Breathless from a combination of her quick pace and the thought of what awaited her, she opened her bedchamber door. And stilled on the threshold at the sight that met her eyes. As if in a trance, she slowly entered. After closing and locking the door, she leaned back against the oak panel and stared. The room was awash with roses. Dozens of blooms ranging from the purest white to the deepest scarlet spilled from a silver bowl set on her dresser. A trail of petals led from the door to the center of the room, where the path split into two directions. One ended near the fireplace, where a petal-strewn blanket and a picnic basket awaited. The other trail veered toward the bed, its ivory counterpane dotted with crimson blooms. Nathan stood at the juncture of the paths holding a single long stem rose.

The look in his eyes, that intoxicating concentration of heat, of want and need, stole her breath. She approached him slowly, stopping when less than two feet separated them. He reached out and traced her jaw with the flower’s velvety petals. “I offer you a choice, Victoria,” he said softly, his eyes serious, his gaze intent upon hers. “Which do you want?”

“I want them both,” she answered without hesitation.

The next morning, Victoria stood at the window of her bedchamber, looking down at the garden and lawns bathed in a diffused haze of early morning sunshine. It had rained most of the night, but the azure sky dotted with fluffy white clouds promised a day of fair weather. A day of adventure as their search for the jewels continued. Another glorious day to be spent with Nathan.

Her eyes slid closed and she recalled last night. How after she’d told him she wanted both paths, he’d instantly obliged her, swooping her up in his strong arms and carrying her to the bed, where their lovemaking had been wild and frantic, as if they hadn’t touched in months. Then later, after a light repast of bread, wine, and cheese, they’d made slow, luxurious love on the blanket in front of the fire.

The memory faded and she opened her eyes. Looking down at the sunlight sparkling on the dew-laden grass, she asked herself the question that invaded her mind with increasing frequency as each day passed: How was she going to say good-bye to him when it came time to leave and return to her normal life? And, as it did every time, the mere thought brought a lump to her throat and a strange, uncomfortable hollow to her chest. So, as she did every time, she roughly shoved the question away. When it came time to leave, she would simply… leave. And go on with her life. As he would go on with his.

Turning from the window, her gaze wandered to the bed and fell upon the single red rose he’d left on the pillow next to hers. To her dismay, moisture filled her eyes. A beautiful flower from a beautiful man who she greatly feared was coming to mean far too much to her. A man who, despite her best efforts to keep at an emotional arm’s length, was finding his way into her heart. When she awoke that morning, she’d been alone, all evidence of their sensual petal-strewn picnic gone, except for that solitary bloom.

She walked to the bed, picked up the rose and buried her nose in its soft center. Again vivid images of the previous night permeated her mind’s eye. Nathan looming over her, buried deep inside her body, then her astride him, his hands everywhere as they made love in the rose-scented haven he’d created for her. She would never be able to separate the scent of roses from those sensual images, which was problematic, as she couldn’t recall a day since she was a child that she hadn’t surrounded herself with the fragrance of her favorite flower.

But she wouldn’t worry about that now. She would have plenty of time to lock away her memories when this interlude ended. Until then, she would treat each day as a gift and enjoy her passionate adventure to the fullest.

With that in mind, she pulled the bell cord to summon Winifred, then walked to the wardrobe to choose a dress for the day. But before choosing, she pulled her copy of the Ladies’ Guide from the portmanteau and carefully pressed the rose Nathan had left her between the book’s pages.

After emptying a sack filled with kitchen scraps into the trough in the animal pen-much to the delight of Daisy, Reginald, and Petunia-Nathan collected his hens’ daily offering of eggs. He gave them to Hopkins, who, with a nod of thanks, headed across the lawns toward the kitchen with his prize. Then, with B.C. at his heels, Nathan walked the short distance to the copse of elms nearest the stables, a favorite boyhood spot. Sitting on the ground, he leaned back against the sturdy trunk’s rough bark, stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. B.C. flopped down next to him, rested his massive head on Nathan’s boots, and breathed out a sigh of canine contentment.

“Don’t even think about making a snack out of these boots,” Nathan said, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “They’re my favorite pair.”

B.C. sent him a reproachful look, as if to say that he would never in a million years chew Nathan’s favorite pair of boots-but any other pair was fair game.

Resettling his back against the tree, Nathan absorbed the quiet serenity of the early morning and watched his animals enjoy their breakfast. If only his thoughts were as serene as his surroundings…

Reginald left the animal pen, and catching sight of Nathan sitting under the tree, the pig trotted toward him. B.C. lifted his head, and after the two animals, who were well used to each other, had exchanged a friendly smelling of each other’s breath, Reginald flopped down on Nathan’s other side and plopped his head on Nathan’s knee.

“Looks as if it’s just us boys this morning,” Nathan said. “No women.” He blew out a sigh. “Do yourselves a favor my good men, and do not fall in love. But at least if you’re going to fall in love, make certain that you fall in love with someone you can have.” B.C. licked his chops and shot Nathan a mournful gaze. Nathan nodded, grateful for the obvious canine show of sympathy. “Yes, that’s precisely how I feel. It would be as if you fell in love with a cat instead of a dog, B.C. Of course you could love the cat, but it would only lead to heartbreak. You’re too different, live in two different worlds, for it to ever work. Trust me when I say that falling in love is a tremendous pain in the arse. Not to mention the heart.”

“Good morning, Nathan,” came a familiar deep voice behind him.

Nathan turned and saw his father approaching from the direction of the house. “Good morning, Father.”

“I thought I’d find you out here.”

Over the past week, some of the tension between them had dissipated. Of course, Nathan thought that could have been because they hadn’t been alone together. Having Lady Delia and Victoria join them for meals, after-dinner whist, and conversation, had unmistakably thawed a bit of the chill.

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes. Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. B.C., Reginald, and I were just having a little man-to-man chat.”

Father nodded. “You always were fond of talking to your pets.” His father surveyed the area around the tree with a frown, then pulled a snowy handkerchief from his pocket, which he set on the ground. To Nathan’s amazement and amusement, Father then gingerly settled his bottom on the linen square. It required a bit of careful shifting about, but he finally found what was obviously a comfortable spot, then leaned his back against the tree.

After several seconds of companionable silence, his father asked, “You’ll continue your search for the jewels today?” He’d given his father a sketchy briefing of how he hoped to find the missing cache.

“Immediately after breakfast, yes.”

“I would offer my assistance,” Father said, sounding uncomfortable, “but I cannot go off and leave Lady Delia alone all day, nor would it be proper to subject her to such arduous outings.”

“I completely understand.” Actually, he was grateful, as he had no desire to include anyone on those precious hours he spent alone with Victoria.

“Of course, having Lady Victoria accompany you without her chaperone-”

“I promised her father I would protect her. I cannot do that if she remains behind.”

“I suppose not. And you are out in the open-it’s not as if you’re in a closed carriage together.”

“Exactly.” Nathan noted his father hadn’t suggested that Victoria remain home with him and her aunt, which piqued his curiosity as to precisely what they did during the hours he and Victoria were away from the house. He’d noticed that they seemed to be getting along very well together.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked his father.

“I promised Delia-I mean Lady Delia-a visit to Penzance.”

“An outing I’m certain she’ll enjoy. She is a very nice woman. Intelligent. Amusing and vivacious.”

Out of the corner of his eye he noted ruddy color rush into his father’s face. “Yes, she is all those things. I would say her niece very much takes after her in those respects.”

“I agree.” Indeed, Victoria was all those things and more. She was rare. Extraordinary. Unlike anyone else. Every day, he learned something new about her, and each new layer he uncovered only served to deepen his love and admiration for her. Bloody hell, he even found her faults endearing. The way she babbled when nervous. Her streak of stubbornness. The way she insisted upon retelling Shakespeare’s darker tales so they had fairy-tale endings. His reminder that the titles were The Tragedy of Hamlet and The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet fell on deaf ears. All the things that made her imperfect that somehow managed to make her seem all the more perfect.

Silence stretched between them, then Father said, “You care for her.”

“We’ve formed a friendship.”

“Your feelings run deeper than mere friendship, Nathan.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not exactly in my dotage, you know. I see the way you look at her.”

Nathan forced a nonchalant shrug. “If my feelings run deeper, I cannot see why that would concern you. I’m more than capable of keeping my own counsel.”

“Which is precisely what concerns me.”

“Why? Do you fear me making a fool of myself?” he asked, unable to disguise the hint of bitterness underlying his words.

“No. I fear you suffering from a broken heart. ‘Tis a pain like no other and a fate I would wish on no man, let alone my son.”

Heavy silence engulfed them for several heartbeats while Nathan fought to hide his surprise at his father’s words. Apparently he wasn’t entirely successful, for Father added softly, “I can see that you think I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I assure you I speak from experience.” He turned and looked briefly toward the gardens then returned his gaze to Nathan. “If you think it didn’t break my heart when your mother died, you are very much mistaken. I loved her deeply. She captivated me from the first moment I saw her.”

A sentiment which, thanks to Victoria, Nathan could well understand. “I’m afraid that when Mother died I was so immersed in my own grief, I gave little thought to your loss. I’m sorry.”

His father nodded. “My point is that a broken heart is a pain like no other. I therefore encourage you to do whatever is necessary so it doesn’t happen to you.”

Confusion assailed Nathan. He’d never shared a conversation even remotely like this with his father, and he was quite frankly at a loss. Finally he said carefully, “Are you suggesting that if there was perhaps a woman I cared for, I should consider confessing my feeling to her?”

“Bloody hell, Nathan, if you danced around it any more you’d be turning pirouettes on the lawn. I’ve reached an age where I’m not so inclined to waste time. I’m suggesting nothing about some hypothetical woman. I’m stating outright that if you care for Lady Victoria you should tell her.”

Nathan’s brows shot upward. “Are you not the same man who only a week ago stated that my brother or Gordon or those two fops in London-or hell, anyone with a title and an estate-were far more suitable matches for her?”

“Actually, no, I’m not the same man I was a week ago.”

“What does that mean?”

“That means that over the past week I’ve come to some important and, quite frankly, unexpected realizations about myself. My life. What I want. For the first time in a long while I feel… invigorated. Rejuvenated.”

And suddenly Nathan realized he’d indeed seen evidence of this over the past week. His father had seemed more relaxed. He’d laughed, smiled, and told amusing stories, and Nathan enjoyed the lessening of unease between them. He’d noticed the changes, but with his attention focused on Victoria, hadn’t dwelled on them. “To what do you attribute this rejuvenation?”

“A great deal of soul searching, which is the result of the friendship I’ve formed with Lady Delia. Having people in the house again made me realize how… lonely I’ve been, and having someone my own age to talk to has been delightful. Lady Delia knows everyone, and it turns out we share an enormous number of acquaintances. You know I don’t keep up with the comings and goings of the ton, and she’s brought me up to date on the lives of people I haven’t seen or heard from in years. I was shocked to learn of the number of peers I know-men my age or younger-who are in poor health. Or dead.”

Father shook his head. “I have to tell you, it gave me a chilling sense of my own mortality, and made me appreciate what I have, including my health. Life is too precious and far too short to allow opportunities to be missed. Or to allow wrongs to go unrighted.”

He drew a deep breath then continued, “I want this estrangement between us to end, Nathan. I now realize that I never allowed you to offer an explanation for your actions the night Colin and Gordon were shot. Rather, I fired questions and accusations at you. In my own defense, I can only say that I was shocked-not only by the shooting, but to discover my sons were spies for the Crown. I showed no faith in you, and even though we haven’t always agreed, knowing the sort of man you were, I should have known better than to believe you would act dishonorably.”

Those quietly spoken words hit Nathan hard, and for the first time in three years the hurt and sense of betrayal that had bound his heart loosened. He looked at his father, who regarded him through serious eyes and continued, “I attempted to apologize by letter, but I admit it was a halfhearted effort. So now, even though it’s coming three years after the fact, I wish to offer my heartfelt apology and ask for your forgiveness.” He extended his hand.

A lump lodged in Nathan’s throat and he swallowed to clear it away. Reaching out, he clasped his father’s hand in a firm grip. “I owe you an apology as well, Father, for allowing the gulf between us to grow so wide. I can’t deny it was a crushing blow to realize that my father and brother and best friend all doubted me. At the time I was bound by an oath of secrecy and couldn’t offer an explanation.”

“I shouldn’t have needed one.”

The admission warmed any remnants of chill Nathan might have harbored. “I fear my pride has kept me from offering an explanation since my return-an error in judgment I’d like to correct if you’d like to listen.”

“I’d like that very much.”

After drawing a bracing breath, Nathan repeated the same story he’d told Victoria, finishing with, “The irony of the entire thing is that I’d intended the jewels to be my last mission-the one that would afford me financial security. Instead it stripped me of everything I held dear-my reputation, my family, my home.”

“You had no need to go searching for financial security, Nathan. I would have given you whatever amount you needed.”

“Yes, I know. And while I appreciate your generosity, I don’t want things given to me. I prefer to earn them.”

“An aspect of your character I never understood,” Father said, shaking his head. “If there is ever anything you need-”

“I would let you know. Believe me, I’ve no desire to live in poverty, and while I know you think I do live in such a state, I assure you I don’t. My home may not be a grand palace, but I live very comfortably. And in spite of the occasional nonmonetary compensation I accept for my services, I am well paid.”

“What will happen if you don’t find the jewels?”

“I’ll have no choice other than to get on with my life. But I’m determined to find them. Three years ago I didn’t stay and fight to clear my name. I won’t give up so easily this time. Someone betrayed the mission, and I want to know who. Someone hurt Victoria, and I want to know who. I want to recover the jewels and turn them over to the Crown so the mark on my reputation is wiped clean.” He clasped his father’s shoulder. “But no matter what happens, knowing that you believe me innocent of wrongdoing means a great deal.”

“Too bad Colin isn’t here for this meeting of the minds,” Father said.

“Yes, it is,” Nathan said thoughtfully.

“My instincts tell me he won’t be away much longer. Most likely his ‘business’ is a curvaceous beauty he’ll soon tire of.”

“Yes, you’re most likely right,” Nathan said. Unfortunately, however, his instincts were telling him something different.

Late that afternoon, after another unsuccessful search of another craggy rock formation, Nathan leaned against the trunk of a stately elm, consulted his grid map and drew an X across another square. Only five more squares remained. Would they need to search all five areas-or would the jewels be found perhaps tomorrow? Or the next day? Even if it proved necessary to search all five squares, he still felt the pressure of time. Once the search was over-either having found the jewels or admitting defeat-his time in Cornwall would draw to a close.

Surely he would hear from Victoria’s father within the next week regarding his letter, hopefully providing additional information that could aid in the search for the jewels. But might Lord Wexhall also ask that his daughter be sent back to London?

No matter how Nathan looked at it, he felt his magical time with Victoria dwindling, like grains of sand trickling inexorably through his fisted hands.

After refolding the map and slipping it into his boot, he looked at Victoria, who crouched two dozen feet away, gathering a small bouquet of purple wildflowers. The sun caught at her hair, coaxing burnished highlights from the silky skeins. Bloody hell, she was so beautiful. And he loved her so much. Wanted her so badly. His father’s advice echoed in his mind, and Nathan realized he was right. He had to tell her how he felt. But how? When? Wait, his inner voice cautioned. Give her more time. ‘Tis obvious she cares about you-perhaps she’ll fall in love with you. A humorless sound escaped him. Or perhaps she’d break his heart.

She stood, then glanced over at him. His desire must have shown in his eyes because an answering heat kindled in her gaze. With a siren’s smile playing about her lips, she slowly walked toward him.

“You’re looking rather pensive,” she said as she approached.

“Just admiring the view.”

Her gaze boldly raked over him, resting pointedly on his groin before returning to meet his again. “Yes, the view is fascinating.”

He swallowed the rueful laugh that rose in his throat at the ease with which she aroused him. She halted two feet from him and extended the bouquet. “For you,” she said.

Touched at the simple gesture, he took the flowers, brushing his fingers against hers as he did. “I’ve never been given flowers before.”

She smiled. “I’ve never given flowers before. I realize they pale in comparison to the magnificent roses you gave me, but-”

“No, they don’t. It’s not the sort of flowers you receive, but who gives them to you that’s important.” He brushed his lips against her soft cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“As it just so happens, I have a present for you as well. I’ll be right back.” He pushed off from the tree and crossed to where Midnight and Honey stood tethered in the shade of a huge weeping willow. After putting his flowers in Midnight’s saddlebag, he removed a small leather pouch then returned to Victoria. “For you,” he said, handing her the small gift.

There was no mistaking her surprised pleasure. “What is it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He watched her pull open the drawstring top of the pouch and spill the contents into her palm. Suddenly, doubts assailed him. What the hell was he doing, giving her something so lacking in monetary value when she was accustomed to and deserved the most expensive, extravagant of jewels? She lifted the slender black velvet cord from which hung a single white glossy seashell.

She studied the shell for several seconds, then said, “I recognize this shell. You found it near the shore the first day you brought me to the beach.” Her gaze shifted from the necklace to him. “The first day you showed me the crystal cave.”

“Yes,” he said, unable to deny his pleased surprise that she remembered. “How did you know?”

Unmistakable tenderness filled her eyes. “Nathan, I’m not likely to ever forget anything about that day.” After setting the leather pouch on the ground, she lifted her arms and drew the velvet cord over her head. She then held the delicate shell up to the sun and examined it. “How did you make it so shiny?”

“A dozen coats of clear lacquer. It makes it glossy and strong.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to have something by which to remember your time here. I know it isn’t much, but-”

She touched her fingers to his lips, halting his words. “You’re wrong, Nathan. This necklace is… lovely. And thoughtful. In every way. Just like the man who gave it to me. Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.”

Taking her hand, he backed up a few paces, gently tugging her along, until his back rested against the tree trunk. Spreading his legs, he slowly drew her closer until she leaned against his body in the vee of his thighs. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, bending his head to touch his lips to the sensitive rose-scented skin behind her ear.

A delicate shudder ran through her, and her arms stole around his neck. Leaning back in the circle of his arms to look at him, she said, “Speaking of liking something-I think my aunt likes your father.”

“Excellent news, as I think my father likes your aunt.” He trailed his fingers over her petal-soft cheek. “I think his son likes her niece.”

She raised her brows. “Oh? Which son? He has two.”

He knew she was teasing; still, a fissure of jealousy seeped through him. “I meant me.”

“Ah. Likes her, hmmm? Does that mean he wishes to be friends?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because friends don’t do this.” He palmed her breasts, teasing her nipples through the fine material of her riding gown. “Nor do they do this.” Leaning forward, he pressed a heated kiss against her neck.

Her head dropped limply back and a pleasure-filled sigh escaped her. She insinuated her hand between them and stroked her palm over his erection, dragging a groan from his throat.

“I suspect friends don’t do that, either?” she asked in a smoky voice.

His fingers set to work undoing the buttons on her gown. “I’m not certain… do it again and I’ll let you know.”

She stroked him again, then teased the head of his arousal with her fingertips. “No,” he said in husky rasp. “They don’t do that, either.”

“Not even if they are the very best of friends?”

“Not even then.” Finished with the buttons, he pushed her gown and chemise down her arms in one motion.

“What else don’t friends do?”

He drew a lazy fingertip around her pebbled nipple. “Are you certain you want to know?”

“Yes.” The word ended in a hiss of pleasure as he bent his head and drew her nipple into his mouth. She breathed his name, and all the pent-up frustration of wanting her, loving a woman he feared he could never have, burst, flooding him with a desperation unlike anything he’d ever known. He yanked her gown, chemise, and drawers roughly down over her hips, then simply lifted her and kicked the material aside, leaving her clad in only her stockings and ankle-high riding boots. With his breaths pumping from his lungs like a bellows, he snagged one hand under her thigh and lifted her leg against his hip while his other hand skimmed down her bare back, over her round buttocks, then lower, to stroke the plump folds of her sex. That she was already wet for him snapped the last vestiges of his control.

Kissing her deeply, he slipped two fingers into her moist heat, his tongue stroking her in the same smooth rhythm as his fingers stroked inside her body. Her arms tightened around his neck and she strained against him. He broke off their kiss, relentlessly stroking her body, and watched her pleasure overtake her while she pulsed around his fingers.

The instant the tremors subsided, he scooped her up in his arms and sat her on top of her discarded gown. Dropping to his knees between her splayed thighs, he yanked open his breeches with impatient, unsteady hands, and freed his erection. Now, damn it. He needed her now. Sitting back on his heels, he grasped her hips and settled her over him, astride his thighs. She clasped his shoulders and slid down as he thrust upward. He tried to go slow, to savor the exquisite glide into her velvety heat, the erotic pull of her tight passage gripping him, but slow was beyond him. Clenching her hips in a viselike hold, he gritted his teeth and thrust, hard, fast, beads of sweat forming on his brow. And just like his thrusts, his release came upon him hard and fast. With a guttural groan that sounded more like pain than pleasure, he withdrew and crushed her against him, his face buried in the warm fragrant valley between her breasts. The instant the passion-induced fog cleared from his brain, guilt smacked him. Damn it, what the hell had come over him? He never lost control like that. He’d taken her without a thought to her pleasure. He lifted his head, fully prepared to apologize and beg her pardon, but found her looking at him with a flushed, sated, slumberous expression.

“Oh… my,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his. “Just when I think I’ve finally discovered what you do best, you prove me wrong.”

Relieved that she’d found as much pleasure as he, he dropped a kiss on her nose. “You still haven’t discovered it.”

“Oh… my,” she whispered again. She glanced down at her naked breasts pressed to his chest. “I’m guessing that friends don’t do this, either?”

“Are we friends, Victoria?” He tossed out the question lightly, but found himself tensing, awaiting her reply.

“I like to think so.”

“Well, in that case, I guess friends do do this.”

“Hmmm. How long do you suppose it would take friends to do this again?”

He smiled. “Let’s find out.”