Virgin Unwrapped

She looked above her, and then back at him. “So I am,” she said, hardly able to take a breath. Without thinking, she wet her lips. What must he have thought of that? It probably appeared like an invitation. She was acting as though she wished him to kiss her.

But she did. With a marriage carefully arranged and only weeks away, she was thinking of kissing another man. It was disloyal of her, to Joseph and to her family. Robert would be disgusted by it, as he seemed to be by much of what she said and did. The silent moment stretched long between them, and she wondered what was to happen next. It would be best, she was sure, if she could make a simple apology, laugh at her own foolishness and back away from him.

“You offered me anything I might want,” he said.

Did he want a kiss, then? What harm could it do, if it was between friends? It was likely to be her only chance to have even a small taste of the lips of Mr. Robert Breton.

Without another word he removed the distance between them, standing so close that she could feel the heat of his body against her skin. She shut her eyes, waiting for the chaste peck on the lips that didn’t come. Instead his hands gripped her arms so tightly that it made her gasp. And then his mouth met hers, taking advantage of her moment of vulnerability to fill her with his tongue.

Was this natural? She had never heard of such a thing before. It felt like the most right and wonderful thing in the world. He tasted of the gingerbread that had been on the tea tray, sweet and spicy. She mimicked the slow surge and retreat of his tongue against hers, trying to catch the flavor. Though the room had seemed cold just a few moments ago, now it felt hot. But in an aching confusion, her nipples were still hard, pressing against her light stays until she feared he could feel them through her gown.

And perhaps he could. He was pushing her back toward the nearest wall until her shoulders were pressing against the plaster. Then, his hands moved to touch them, cradling her breasts in his palms as he kissed his way down her throat, covering every inch of exposed flesh with licks and nips. The massaging of his hands was so exciting that she almost forgot to breathe. There was a spiraling excitement deep within her, pressing her toward some fantastic place she’d never visited.

She could image one final touch or kiss that would take her out of this world altogether, leaving her fainting in his arms. Then he could lift her, carry her in a half swoon to the couch, cover her body with his and ravish her back to wakefulness.

Just then, he kissed her on the mouth again. Though she had only the most basic understanding of the marital act, her body tightened suddenly, and she could imagine what it must feel like to be claimed by a man. Something burst inside of her with a dizzying rush. She could breathe again in deep happy gasps that made her heart hammer and her legs tremble. It was the most amazing feeling she’d ever known, as though she’d been dead for years and suddenly reborn.

And it was the middle of the day in a public room of a house that was not hers. Servants had questions, guests would be arriving. At any moment, she might receive a visit from the man she meant to marry.

She fought free of his kiss and her own desires and pushed hard against Robert Breton’s chest. The cold rushed back into her spirit as his hands left her body. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered.

“Exactly what I’ve wished to, from the first moment I met you.” He was smiling the cold, hard, self-satisfied smile he’d worn so often when he looked at her of late, as though the kiss was not something magical, but merely a confirmation of her weak character. Then, he reached into his pocket and removed a handkerchief, touching it to the corner of his mouth to wipe away a drop of blood.

Dear Lord. Had she bitten him?

His smile grew slightly broader as he saw her shock at her total lack of control. “And now, Miss Clairemont, if you will excuse me, I must go to speak with your fiancé. I shall leave you to contemplate your own happy future with him.”

Chapter Two

Robert Breton ate the fine meal provided by his wealthy friend, willing himself to clear his plate. He would choke down each bite if he had to, and swill enough of the expensive port to blot the episode with Miss Clairemont from his mind.

A short distance from him, Anne looked equally uncomfortable, seated between her parents and scant inches from the watchful eyes of Stratford. Not that Stratford was bothering to observe her. Robert had forced a promise from him to pay more attention to the girl he meant to marry, but it seemed to be forgotten almost as soon as it was made. Joseph simply didn’t care for her other than as another measure of his success.

But that indifference did not give Robert the right to kiss her. He could pretend that he’d expected her to strike him, to protest, and to ban him from the house. If she had tried, he’d likely have kissed her all the more, using any tricks he could think of to prove to her what he already knew: she did not love Joseph Stratford. It was unworthy of her to marry him.

Robert’s own feelings were no more clear than hers. He should not be pretending that he was trying to save his friend from a fortune hunter. He wanted Anne Clairemont for himself. Her total surrender to him after only a few kisses proved the feeling to be reciprocated. The slightest prompting had produced an orgasm worthy of a Cyprian. The savage kiss she returned left him imagining the lover she would become. The idea that she might develop those talents in a bed other than his own was almost too painful to contemplate.

But he could not seem to stop brooding on it. He finished his dinner in silence and plodded through the dancing and games of the evening with a wooden smile until the last of the guests were retiring. Then he slipped from the room so that he would not be forced to witness a sweet goodbye between Stratford and Anne.

“Mr. Breton? We need to talk.” He had been too slow. The object of his desire was coming down the hallway toward him.

“Surely it can wait until tomorrow. It is late. I must be getting to bed.” There was that image again, of her, sprawled in his sheets. “Tomorrow. We will talk then. Skating is planned in the afternoon.” There would be other guests about, and servants. And God help him, Stratford. How was he to go on?

“I wish to speak to you now. Tonight.” There was an earnest desperation in her big, blue eyes. “My parents and I will be leaving soon. The rest of the party has retired. Surely you can spare a few moments.”

It was an innocent enough request. But there was no innocence left in him to spare. Still, he was not strong enough to refuse her. “Very well. A few words only.”

She took him by the arm and pulled him into a small parlor at the back of the house, shutting the door behind them. The room was rarely used and barely lit. The lack of decoration proved that no one was expecting the guests to come to this part of the manor. They might be alone together for some time before anyone even thought to look here.

The thought was both pleasing and unnerving. He took a breath, reminding himself of the risks. Then he said, “What is it you wished to discuss?”

“I need to know why you kissed me.”

“Why?” Could she truly be this naive? Had it not been obvious from the first day how he had struggled with his feelings for her, knowing he must not touch her even as circumstance had pushed them closer and closer together?

“Yes,” she said firmly. “Why would you do such a thing? I did not think you liked me.” She was wringing her hands as though it embarrassed her to admit her fears.

“Like you?” He laughed in surprise. “I wish I did not. What I feel for you is far stronger than polite regard. It will be the ruin of me, I’m sure. But there is little I can do about it.”

“You seemed so cold,” she pressed on. “So distant.”

“You are a fine one to talk. You are willing to give yourself to a man you do not care for, just to get his fortune and his house.”

“That is not true,” she said. “About my not caring for Joseph. I care…very much.”

Robert groaned. “That is even worse. What kind of woman are you that you allow me to kiss you when you claim to care for another? And now that I have embarrassed myself by revealing my desire for you, how can you torture me with your feelings for my best friend?”

“I do not mean to hurt you,” she insisted. “I do not wish ill on anyone. And, of course, I care for Joseph. How could I not? He is kind, and has been good to me and to my family. I must care for him. I simply must.” She said the last as though she needed to convince herself of the fact, more than him.

“But all those times when we were alone together, were you simply being kind to me because I am a friend of Joseph’s?” he asked.

“Yes. No. I mean…I like you. Of course I do. If things were different…” Then she stopped, as though fearful to say more.

“You like me.” He felt a totally inappropriate surge of confidence. With her formal engagement only a day away, he must take steps quickly to fan the flame, or he would lose her forever.

“Well, of course I like you,” she said, as though it should have been obvious to him.

“But that does not explain why you allowed me to kiss you.”

Her eyes went wide, as though it had not occurred to her that she might be required to take a share of the blame for their indiscretion. “It was just a kiss under the mistletoe.”

“That was all it was to you, really?”

She knew quite well that it was no simple kiss. The dim light could not hide her blush. He reached out and touched a curl at her temple. “Suppose I were to kiss you here, tonight. There is no mistletoe to be found, so you would have no excuse for what happened. Would you allow it?”

“I should not,” she said, quietly.

“Should not is quite different from shall not. Let us see which one applies.” He bent his head to her, and kissed her.

It took no coaxing to get an ardent response. Her mouth was open. Her tongue met his. Her body strained to be touched. He need have no fear that she preferred another, for it was plain when they were alone that she wanted no one but him. He pulled her hips tight to cradle them against his erection, wondering how much she knew of a man’s desire and how perfectly she might satisfy it. Did he dare to show her tonight?

“Please,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his cheek. “You were right. It was more than a kiss. Do not tempt me to go further. My parents are here. If we are discovered…” She pushed his hand away from where it hovered by her breast.

His curiosity was satisfied. She’d admitted that she cared for him, and had been moved by him. He should make an apologetic withdrawal and escort her back to find her parents. But it would be far better to give her another reason to refuse, when Stratford finally made his offer. Robert kissed her gently on the forehead and ran a finger along the top edge of her gown, ruffling the lace that lay against her skin. “I suppose this means that you will not let me see the loveliness of your breasts. It will take more time getting you back into your gown than it will take me to have you out of it.”

“Robert!” She said his name in an urgent whisper.

“You did not say no, just now, my sweet. If you wish to put me off, you will need to be clear about the fact.”