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He started to move, thrusting in and out, over, and over, stroking her pleasure higher and higher with his steady, unrelenting rhythm. Their harsh breathing mingled, and his body slid into hers with provocative power. His eyes held hers, and he licked along the seam of her mouth. Cressida moaned. She wanted desperately to look away. She couldn’t. She felt exposed and raw, yet whole and sensual and free. He rode her until she ached, until she trembled, until Cressida did not know if she wanted to plead for rest or beg him to never stop.
“Nicholas,” she gasped shakily.
His control slipped, and he crushed her mouth below his, his hips snapping deeper between her legs. The pressure low in her belly climbed and knotted tighter and tighter until it broke. Cressida cried out as pleasure washed over her in violent yet sweet, hot waves.
He thrust jerkily a few more times before he pulled from her body and released upon her quivering belly with a harsh groan. Nicholas rested his forehead against hers for several minutes before he fished a handkerchief from the pocket of his discarded jacket and cleaned his release from her. Then he climbed into the bed and tugged her against his chest. She closed her eyes, inhaling his scent into her lungs.
I am falling in love with Nicholas. Worse, now she was coming down, she no longer felt that sense of exhilarating excitement but a heavy thrum of despair.What if I am to love you in vain?There was no answer to her question, and she closed her eyes, afraid he would see her emotions considering he thought them so expressive. She breathed deeply as her heartbeat gradually slowed to a normal pace and she slipped into deep sleep.
When Cressida woke several hours later, she was pleasantly sore, and her bedchamber empty with no sign that Nicholas Fairbanks had ravished her thoroughly. She shifted and a piece of paper crinkled by her head. Plucking it up she quickly read it.
I was so caught up in our delightful conversation I forgot to mention the painting is completed. Do you wish to see if before I sneak it into the marquess’s house, or should I simply deliver it? Only one word from you and I shall not take it at all.
Yours. N.
Cressida sat up in the bed, her heart pounding. It felt impossibly hard to continue through with her revenge plan, and, with a sense of shock, she realized it was because she hardly gave the marquess any thought. Whenever Cressida was with Nicholas Fairbanks, everything else faded into obscurity.
Uncertain as to what she should do, Cressida rang for a bath and took her time preparing for the day. It was almost an hour later before she sat in front of the small writing desk in her bedchamber and penned her reply.
Dear N,
Yes. Please proceed with the plan and deliver this painting to the marquess tonight.
Yours
C.
She then gave instructions to a footman to see it delivered to Nicholas’s lodgings. Cressida spent the day with her sister who basked in the triumph of hosting her first ball. Bouquets with exquisite notes had arrived for both sisters. Leigh being thanked for her entertainment with generous compliments on the décor, food, wine and even the selection of the orchestra.
Cressida’s notes mostly lauded her exquisite beauty and some expressed hopes that she would deign to allow them to escort her to some event. As no announcement of her engagement to the marquess had appeared, other hopeful suitors were now risking their luck in pursuing the diamond, Lady Cressida. There was a bouquet of long-stemmed, crimson roses from the marquess, but his note, only said, “Please do not avoid me; I am heartbroken over the misunderstanding between us.”
Cressida had read his note and felt disappointed once more that he dared to continue his courting of her hand. She had made it quite clear that she would no longer consider herself bound by any promises and that she would not marry him.
She’d put thoughts of the marquess away and turned back to her sister. They laughed and chatted; however, a mounting sense of dread kept Cressida anxious. Another discreet letter was dropped off for her, where Nicholas revealed that using his pretty charm and money, he gleaned from a maid in the marquess’s home that he would be at his club this evening and Nicholas would do the deed then.
No sense of relief filled her at his message, and when Leigh asked about her air of distraction, Cressida pled exhaustion. It was as she and her sister prepared for a ball that evening Cress realized she could not bear anyone but Nicholas to see her in the nude, all her sensual charms on display. She only wanted Nicholas to feel such tender lust for her and only in him she hoped to inspire so much more.
Oh, drat, what have I done?
* * *
The maidthat Nicholas had bribed had left a window open for him after he had promised her that he did not intend to steal or damage any of the property of her master. He had explained that he wanted to leave something in his bedroom for a wager. After slipping through the side windows, he had taken off his shoes and tiptoed about the house, locating the marquess’s bedroom with ease. He lit a candle and stared around the room. The walls and ceiling were festooned with complicated gilded plastering, mostly in a trellis pattern but embellished with golden cupids, nymphs, birds, butterflies, and floral swags.
Every surface seemed to be cluttered with trinkets, knick-knacks, and other such ephemera. Most of which were shockingly expensive and individually rather pretty, but in accumulation and contrasting with each other, just felt excessive.
Nicholas leaned the painting against the wall of the marquess’s bedchamber with care, turned around and walked away. It gutted him to do so when everything inside of him snarled with possessive fury. That the marquess would see her sweet sensuality, the spark of mischief in her eyes, the carefree smile on her mouth was unbearable. That his damn eyes would linger on her naked curves was a damn torment. Nicholas wanted to ride roughshod over what Cressida had asked him to do but could not. She had her reasons, and he had to respect them and her, even if the thought of Linfield peering upon her sensual beauty filled him with dark musings.
Nicholas made his way out of the marquess’s bedroom, carefully blowing out the candle and shutting the door behind him. He tiptoed down the stairs and climbed back out the window, shutting but not locking it. He slipped his boots back on and tried to head for his lodgings.
It was done; he should be happy, but he did not want to leave the painting behind. Nicholas simply could not defeat the sensations that roused inside him at the idea of the marquess’s lascivious eyes dwelling on Cressida’s body.
“Bloody hell,” Nicholas hissed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I will simply have to explain to her how I feel.”
Turning around, he headed back to the window and eased his boots back off. He paused as athudechoed from the room next door, which appeared to be a drawing room. Several more rustles sounded, and he frowned. The marquess was at White’s and no servant should be up. Nicholas stealthily drifted closer to the room when he noticed that a window was open, and a gentle breeze wafted through.
Perhaps it was the maid returning after a night out with her swain, or it might be burglars. He stood stock still in the shadows of the room as a small figure headed toward him. A sliver of moon lit the room and in its glimmer, he realized it was Cressida.
What the hell?
