“I ache for you,” she said. “And if you walk out of here now, after leading me on and getting me all hot and bothered—for the second time tonight—I—I’ll strangle you.”
It took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in, and in that moment, she’d unfastened his dressing gown and was pushing it off his shoulders. “It seems my French blood, once aroused, demands satisfaction,” she murmured in dulcet apology. “I do hope it won’t be a problem.”
“It . . . won’t,” he managed to say, and then he was naked and she was kissing him, and he was kissing her and pushing up the hem of her nightgown with one hand, smoothing up those long, slender silken thighs toward the hot, moist welcome of her center.
“My nightgown,” she muttered feverishly and struggled to pull it off, but it was buttoned to the neck.
He cursed silently, caressing her intimately with one hand while he tried to undo dozens of stupid little buttons with the other hand. It was going to take forever to get the blasted thing off her and he couldn’t wait that long. With a muttered curse and a “sorry about this,” he grabbed the neckline of her nightgown in both hands and in one movement ripped it open from neck to hem. And stared, struck afresh by the naked, creamy beauty of her.
Seeing his expression, her eyes grew darker, half closed and sultry like a sleepy cat. She stroked his body in slow, sensual appreciation, rubbing herself against him, openly glorying in the sensation of touching him. He felt like a king, a god, all powerful and . . . about to explode.
He lowered his face to her breasts and caressed them with lips, tongue, and jaw, all the while stroking her between the legs, feeling her readiness, her eagerness. She arched and writhed beneath him. He couldn’t wait much longer. He positioned himself between her thighs and she responded by wrapping her legs around him tightly, urging him on.
He entered her in one slow, smooth stroke, once . . . twice . . . and the rhythm took him, driving all thought from his brain. He battled to delay his climax as long as possible, but it was too late, too late . . . until she arched and screamed and shuddered uncontrollably, shattering around him as he shattered within her . . .
When Maddy woke, the sun was up and Nash was gone. The only evidence of his visit in the night was the tenderness between her legs and the ruined night gown. And the dent on the pillow beside her.
She turned over, snuggled her cheek into it, and relived their lovemaking from the night before. It was better than a morning dream, any day.
She stretched luxuriously and tried to tamp down the happy, fizzing feeling in her blood.
Don’t mistake what passed between us for love . . . It’s just how it is between a man and a woman . . . A healthy expression of desire.
Perhaps it was. She was new to lovemaking and the effects of desire, but one thing was very clear in her mind: she loved Nash Renfrew with all her heart. And if desire was all he could offer her, then she would take it gladly, for to be the object of his desire was . . . utterly splendiferous . . .
“How are you finding life as a maid, Lizzie?” Maddy asked as Lizzie brushed out the tangles in her hair later that morning.
“A bit different from what I expected, miss, but still better’n milking cows any day.”
“In what way different?”
Lizzie pulled a face and began to braid Maddy’s hair in a coronet around her head. “Belowstairs they’re that starchy and hoity-toity, you wouldn’t believe, miss. I sat in the cook’s chair yesterday—just for a minute, I mean she wasn’t using it or anything—but you would’ve thought I’d spat on the floor, the way everyone reacted.” She put on a starchy voice, “‘Maidservants sit at that end of the table, Brown; this end is reserved for the more important members of the household.’ ” Lizzie pulled a face and winked. “Cows, wherever I go.”
“They’re not unkind, are they?”
“Oh, no, miss, don’t you worry. Old Mrs. Deane, she’s a darlin’. And Cooper, that’s Lady Nell’s maid, she reckons it’s worse in other big houses, believe it or not.”
Cooper had been the maid who’d brought Maddy the beautiful cashmere shawl on the first night. “I thought she looked nice,” Maddy said.
“She is. She’s been showin’ me the ropes. Said Lady Nell took a chance on her like you’re takin’ on me. And Mr. Benson, the butler, is a good sort. He likes everything just so and is a demon for hard work and treats us all like we’re in the army, but for all that, he ain’t no snob and he don’t mind a joke. It’s the ones who’ve been in service all their lives I can’t stand. They act as though they’ve swallowed a poker and look at me like I’m something they stepped in.”
Maddy laughed. Lizzie was far too outspoken and down-to-earth for a maidservant, but Maddy loved her for it. She could understand, however, that the girl would raise some hackles in the formally trained ranks belowstairs. “I’m so glad you came with me, Lizzie. But if anyone does mistreat you, you must come to me at once.”
Lizzie snorted. “Nah, I can handle meself, miss.” She frowned critically in the mirror. “Hair’s always difficult after it’s washed, ain’t it?” She used a hot iron carefully and turned a few escaping wisps into tiny ringlets. “There, that’s better. Suits you lovely, it does, miss. Mr. Renfrew will be dazzled all over again.”
“Dazzled?” It was a lovely thought. Unlikely, but lovely.
Lizzie laughed. “Haven’t you noticed, miss? Whenever he claps eyes on you, he can’t seem to look at anything else. The poor man doesn’t know whether he’s comin’ or goin’. Just like my Reuben was.” She turned away and added in a slightly husky voice, “So keep on dazzlin’ him, miss, and don’t let him run off on you.”
She would try, Maddy thought, but as poor Lizzie had learned the hard way, you couldn’t make someone love you. It happened or it didn’t.
Briskly Lizzie began to tidy the room. “Now, you’d better get on, else there’ll be nothing left for breakfast. I could smell bacon cooking when I went past the kitchen. Lovely, it was. Oh, and Lady Nell said to tell you someone’s coming at ten to measure up the children for new clothes.”
“That’s a sight I haven’t seen before,” Nash commented from the library door. “You sitting down, peacefully reading.”
Maddy jumped and put down her book. It was their second day at Firmin Court and the children had settled in well, so well in fact that Maddy had some time to herself for a change. “I did offer to help—I’m sure there is any amount of work to be done, but Nell told me I was a guest and should do whatever I pleased.” She sounded a bit guilty.
“Quite right,” he said approvingly. “I haven’t seen you take time for your own pleasure in all the time I’ve known you. What’s the book?” He picked it up and frowned. “Russia?”
