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Chapter Eleven
Their negotiations concluded, James surveyed his drawing room. As befitting his success as the impressive room was, he spent scant time in it. His eyes paused on the tall table with carved legs a dozen paces behind them, flush against the wall.
His eyes intent, he placed one hand on Clara’s shoulder and the other on the bounty of her hip. She took careful steps backward as he guided and pursued her until she settled onto the edge of the rectangular tabletop.
James swept a hand across the table, sending various pieces of finery crashing to the floor. With a shocked expression, she took in the items cast about the rich carpet, amongst them the shattered pieces of a porcelain statuette and a small painting, toppled face down. Only the silver candelabra with glowing tapers remained at the table’s end, a few feet away.
He hadn’t meant to upset or frighten her, but her reaction gratified part of him. He wasn’t like the other men she knew, dandies or ineffective bores, the lot of them, and it’s best she knew that now.
It was a good thing he wasn’t inclined to feign it. To try would be not just maddening; he knew from experience that such an effort was doomed to fail. Even when it had cost him, he had no choice but to be himself.
If he was too much or too little or too wrong for Clara, he’d know soon enough.
She turned back to him, her beautiful mouth open. James guessed she wanted to register complaints on behalf of his possessions, but the look in his eyes silenced her. He looked hungry for her, indifferent to everything but her.
His nostrils flared as he surveyed her. He slid his hands around her ribcage, down, and over her hips.
Clara reached for him in return, laying her palms gently onto his chest, sparking a memory. Did she, too, relive the first moment they touched, when she inadvertently intercepted him in her brother’s library?
Her eyes weren’t as wide this time, but she was every bit as fascinated. Seeing her unchecked interest in him seemed unreal, his eyes perhaps deceiving him.
Her fingers splayed over his shirt, testing his muscle. He closed his eyes.
Her touch is real.
“You’re strong,” murmured Clara.
He froze, reminding himself that she hadn’t yet seemed repulsed by his uncouth muscles. His hands ran lightly over the sides of her arms, otherwise standing still for her as she explored him.
He wasn’t a gentleman, but he could be gentle for her.
When a shiver ran through her, he opened his eyes, frowning. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised solemnly.
She looked up with faint surprise. “I know. At least…I hope.” She smiled as James took her face into his hands.
He didn’t share her confidence that her academic studies had prepared her for the intimacy he craved from her. If she found his behavior shocking so far, how would she react to the sight—let alone touch—of what tented his trousers?
I’ve a cockstand for her the bloody size of Scotland!
His thumb traced her sweet smile, considering what to do next. That Clara had openly addressed her terms for their shared endeavor was unexpected, but welcome.
“I’m not finished with my terms,” he found himself saying.He waited as she searched his eyes with her intelligent green ones, then nodded.
With their gazes locked and his hands still cradling her face, his thighs parted hers. Her wide skirt accommodated the spread of her legs.
“I’ll do everything I can to ease your first time. You can always tell me nay, and I’ll heed you. But you know I’m no gentleman. I’ll not be sneaking into your bed for only a minute or two and slinking away.”
She nodded in his hands. “That’s why I’m here with you. What we’re going to do…”
“We do for pleasure,” he finished after she trailed off.
His thumb caressed her cheek, marveling at her soft skin. He hoped his callouses didn’t disgust her. He wore gloves at the docks, but the manual labor took a toll.
Clara’s eyelids fluttered, and her breath came more rapidly.
“I’ll take it slow,” he whispered, staring at her mouth, wanting so much to taste her. “But I’m sure I’ll still shock you.” His head lowered, and he breathed the next words against her mouth. “And not at first, but God, lass, when you’re ready, I hope you’ll touch me, too.”
Her hands lifted from his chest, and he wondered if she was going to pull away.
