“Aye,” he said slowly, “I have heard it said that such a thing ‘tis so, but no woman I have ever loved,ma Belle, has had cause for complaint. I swear it!”
Arabella smiled seductively up at him now. The firelight cast a molten glow over her body, making it warm with color, deepening the gold of her hair, reflecting itself in the ruby that nestled just above her plump breasts and in the pale green shade of her eyes. “If that is so, Adrian, then you must kiss me again, for I found the taste of your kisses as sweet as the finest wine, and even now,monseigneur, I thirst!”
The Duc de Lambour felt his heart leap in his chest at her words. She was the most fascinating woman he had ever met. A mixture of innocence and sensuality that he found wildly exciting. He kissed her again, and to his delight felt her lips part beneath his, her tongue tentatively seeking his own. He groaned with his pleasure and shifted his body so that he lay half over her.
Arabella allowed herself to be swept up in the passion of the moment. With an answering moan of pleasure, she put her arms about his neck, pressing her breasts into his chest, feeling the wiry hair of that chest tickling her flesh. The hard length of his manhood pressed insistently against the side of her thigh as Arabella’s fingers softly rubbed the sensitive flesh on the nape of his neck, causing the hairs there to rise.
The duc freed himself reluctantly from her lips and began to press warm kisses upon her closed eyelids and at that sensitive junction of her jaw just beneath her ear.“Ma Belle,”he murmured throatily, “you intoxicate me!” His lips moved down the side of her neck to her shoulder, which he bit sharply, causing her to cry out. Instantly his tongue snaked out to soothe the pain away, and having done so, moved on to lick at her nipples. His lips parted to take each nipple in its turn within the warmth of his mouth, where he suckled hard upon it.
“Oh! Oh!” she whimpered. She had forgotten how good a man’s mouth felt upon a woman’s breasts, and she squirmed with pleasure beneath his touch. Her hand stroked his dark head, encouraging him in his efforts. “Oh, yes!” she said.“Oh, yes!”
He cradled her within the curve of an arm and fondled her, saying, “So,ma Belle, the sweet fruits of your breasts are sensitive to the pleasures of my touch. Perhaps I may please you after all.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, and then gasped as his fingers found a most sentient and susceptible portion of her anatomy.“A-dri-annn,”she cried, amazed at how quickly he had actually begun to arouse her. It had been a very long time, she realized, since she had feltthisparticular sensation.
Reluctant she might have been, Adrian Morlaix considered, but she was nonetheless a hot little piece of female flesh. Already her love juices were flowing, bedewing his fingers even as they thrust themselves into her sweet flesh. He had to taste her! He could not remember having ever been so quickly aroused by a woman. He could feel the very lust to possess her boiling in his veins with such intensity he almost feared for his life, his heart was beating so violently. Twisting his body about, he positioned himself between her outstretched legs and found her with an extremely facile tongue, teasing the little jewel of her sex until it was standing stiff.
Had she been struck with lightning, Arabella would have reacted no differently. Her body arced wildly but briefly as his fingers dug into her soft flesh to hold her to his will. “Oh!”she sobbed sharply. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” as the first small waves of pleasure began to sweep over her.
Satisfied, he laughed and raised his head from her. “Do I please you yet,ma Belle?” he teased.
Arabella panted uncontrollably for a moment, and then she gasped, “You come near,monseigneur, but not quite yet!”
“Vixen!” he said, laughing again, and then pulling himself up, pushed himself slowly into her love grotto. “I shall make you cry with a greater passion than you have ever known,ma Belle,” he promised her fiercely.
Having regained a small measure of control over her emotions despite his invasion of her person, Arabella taunted him, “We shall see,monseigneur.”
He began to pump her, moving smoothly and rhythmically, as if to some unheard and primitive cadence, but Arabella knew enough about men to know that a man as madly aroused as was Adrian Morlaix was usually lacking in self-restraint. If she could but bring him to his own crisis, even if it meant sacrificing hers, he would be intrigued beyond all and eager to retain her company, if for no other reason than he desired a victory over her. His vows of love, she thought, were but a charming ruse to gain his way. She did not believe the Duc de Lambour loved anyone but himself.
She thrust herself up to meet him, but her very thoughts had cooled her own ardor enough, and he was finally unable to hold back his own passion. With a great cry he took his release, falling at last exhausted upon her and almost crushing her with his weight. Tenderly Arabella caressed him, even as she murmured sweetly, “Has it been so long then,monseigneur, since you have had a woman? Ah well, perhaps next time.”
With a groan he rolled away from her, and looking up at her with sorrow in his blue eyes, he said, “You have defeated me,ma Belle, and I, to my shame, have disappointed you. Give me but a few minutes to regain my strength and we shall try again. It has never happened before, and I vow it shall not happen again.”
“My lord,” she told him, “if I did not achieve perfection, I did at least enjoy myself very much. There is no shame in that, is there? You are a most tender and vigorous lover. I can only hope that I did not disappoint you.”
“Never!You are perfection,ma Belle! Pure perfection! I shall never let you go from me! You must be mine for always and ever!” he told her passionately.
Arabella arose from the fur rug, and walking to a nearby table containing a carafe of wine and some goblets, poured the duc the sweet, refreshing beverage. She was a little amazed, and perhaps just a bit frightened, by her ability to detach herself from her feelings. It made her uncomfortable to realize she could be so calculatingly cold. Still in all, it must be done for Greyfaire’s sake.
“You must have some wine as well,” the duc said as she handed him his goblet.
“Wine makes me sleepy,” she said. “Unless, of course, you would prefer that I sleep, Adrian.”
“You will not sleep this night,ma Belle,” he said with total sincerity.
“I cannot possibly stay the night,” she protested. “What has passed between us, Adrian, should be a private thing between us alone.”
“I want you for my mistress, Arabella,” he said seriously. “I want you with me at all times, not scuttling back and forth between my hotel and that wretched little house you rent in that backwater village outside of the city.”
“It is all I can afford,” she said quietly and with dignity.
“I want you here,” he told her.
“I cannot live in your house, Adrian,” Arabella said, shocked. “What would people say? What would your wife say? And what of my own people who have followed me into exile? I will not desert them, for they did not desert me!”
“Then let me buy you a small house in a good neighborhood here in Paris at least,” he begged her. “A place where we may both meet and be private.”
“I do not know…” Arabella hesitated. She needed to talk with Tony about this. She did not know how far she might go before she would be considereddeclasseby the French court. She could not afford that, and so she put Adrian Morlaix off. “You must give me time to think, Adrian,” she replied. “I had hoped one day to remarry and to have other children. Oh, I am not such a fool to believe that a member of the court would marry me. After all, I have nothing, but perhaps some well-to-do merchant would be pleased to have me, despite my lack of a dowry, simply for my fine connections, which have a certain value. If I should give this all up to become a public scandal, what will happen to me when you grow tired of me,monseigneur? No, no! I must have time to carefully consider all of this.”
