In the Widow’s Bed Page 4

  Warminster stalked past her on his way to the house. “Bloody confounding creature,” he muttered. “I doubt I shall ever understand those Olivers.”

  Silently, Phoebe agreed with him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jonathan stretched on the wide bed with a deep, satisfied groan. That sleep was just what he’d needed to face the house-party activities of the evening, and an evening spent in the delectable countess’ company. He tucked his hands behind his head and grinned. Phoebe was every bit as passionate as he’d suspected. Even more so. He craved her soft body again already.

  His cock swelled at the memory of last night’s adventure. He rolled from the bed and headed for the washbasin. The jug of cool water should dampen his desire for now. He scrubbed and washed with brutal efficiency, dousing any lingering lust.

  Voices outside caught his attention. He snatched up a towel and moved to stand by the window, hiding his naked state behind the heavy velvet drapes. From his vantage point two floors up, Jonathan could see his sister and Lord Warminster deep within the maze. Lizzy appeared angry again, if her clenched fists were any indication.

  Warminster took a pace towards Lizzy and then he disappeared from view. Jonathan stretched up on his toes to see what’d happened. Warminster staggered up from the ground as Lizzy sweep round the corner of the maze.

  He shouldn’t laugh at Warminster, but for a spy, he was damned unprepared for an attack. Lizzy must have used her favorite trick and swept his feet out from under him. Poor bastard. He’d be livid if she’s sullied his pristine attire.

  Since his sister didn’t require his assistance yet, Jonathan turned back to the room. To his delight Lady Warminster stood at the connecting doorway, one hand on the knob, mouth hanging open.

  She stared, gulped, but didn’t say a word.

  Despite Jonathan’s intention to remain cool-headed around the woman, his cock filled. The countess licked her lips.

  “Ah, Lady Warminster, Phoebe, did you require anything?”

  Her gaze remained fixed at his groin. Trying to hide a pleased smile, Jonathan strolled toward her, circled behind, and then pushed the connecting door shut. Just to be sure they remained uninterrupted he turned the key in the lock too.

  Jonathan re-crossed the room at the same lazy pace and sank into a low armless chair. For good measure, he widened his stance, displaying himself.

  Phoebe’s cheeks pinked. She gulped and then dragged her gaze up to his face. “Put something on.”

  Instead of complying, Jonathan ran a hand across his bare chest, over his abdomen, and clasped his cock in a loose grip. “I’ll put you on if you like. Come over here, ma belle. Let’s see if you still fit me.”

  Phoebe gulped then slowly crossed the room. For the moment, he didn’t mind that her eyes remained on his throbbing cock. He didn’t mind that she saw him only as a means of receiving pleasure. He wanted her to see him as a desirable man, not the awkward youth he’d been. They were already friends. Everything else was a delicious bonus.

  Jonathan leaned forward to capture her blue muslin gown with both hands and tugged her closer. When their gazes connected, Phoebe’s eyes widened. “What am I doing? I shouldn’t be here.”

  He didn’t answer her. He didn’t want to frighten her off by discussing the rightness or wrongness of their liaison now. So he tugged again until she fell into his lap, and buried his face in her delicious white skin. He kissed and nipped at the column of her throat hungrily, keen to distract her with desire.

  Phoebe’s hands fluttered over his skin then she held on tight. A quick glance at her face revealed that she’d closed her eyes against the image of what they were doing. Jonathan didn’t care for that, but for now he’d let her have her way. He stretched to find the bottom of her skirts and swiftly captured her restless stocking-clad leg, massaging her knee, curling his fingers into her soft flesh.

  At her gasp of pleasure, Jonathan shifted her on his lap so she sat astride him.

  Wide pale-green eyes stared at him then snapped shut again on a whimper.

  With both hands now under her bunched up skirts, Jonathan had unfettered access. He let his hands smooth her skin in gentle sweeps, and then dug his fingertips into her bottom to move her closer to his erection. At the contact, Phoebe whimpered and squirmed, seeking to get closer.

  He buried his face in her neck again to hide his smile. She could easily become addicted to the pleasure he gave. But it might take some doing for her to accept that the gap in their ages hardly mattered. He could be patient when he wanted something badly enough. And he wanted to make love to her again so very badly.

  With his teeth, he tugged her gown off one shoulder and then shifted the bodice low. One delightful pert breast popped free and he eagerly took the hard peak into his mouth. Jonathan tongued her and nipped her delicate skin while his hands rocked her hips against the hard ridge of his erection.

  Phoebe whimpered impatiently, digging her fingers into his hair to hold his head tight to her breast. Her hips shifted again, rising up as if attempting to mount him. To help, Jonathan released his hold on her hip and grasped his cock, lifting the stiff length away from his belly. Phoebe rose higher and sat on the tip.

  Jonathan released her breast to watch her impale herself.

  She squirmed a little, inching him inside hesitantly. Jonathan held still, forced his cock upright while she slowly accepted him. With a cock as thick as his it didn’t pay to rush his entry. He’d hate to cause her pain. When her wet lower lips touched his fist he withdrew his hand and played with her clitoris. His lover gasped then bit her lip as she descended another delicious inch.

  When he was fully encased, stuffed as high into her body as he could get, Jonathan clasped her hips and moved her along his length. Phoebe let out a low moan and clutched at his shoulders. When he slid her down him she moaned again.

  “You see, Phoebe, we are an exceptionally good fit. What a delightfully welcoming hostess. Ah,” he gasped as her hands moved over his skin.

  Jonathan lowered his mouth to her breast again, tugging the pert nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. Phoebe moved herself on his length, setting her own rhythm to their coupling, pushing him always deeper inside. Her fingers clenched at his nape, holding his hair tight in her grip, never letting him release her breast for long.

  The lady hummed as they fucked, proving to him that she was enjoying his skills immensely. Jonathan touched her nub again, strumming lightly over the hard peak. Phoebe shuddered, breaking her rhythm and settling low upon him. She left him deep but moved her hips in slow rotations, grinding him deeper than before.

  Jonathan released her breast to watch her. Her eyes were closed, lip caught between even white teeth, a look of intense concentration on her face. He cupped her skull and her eyes flew open, staring at him with passion-bright eyes.

  “You have me so deep, my darling, so deep and high into your body that we are fused into one. I’m going to enjoy every delicious shudder as you peak on my cock. That’s it, one more brush, one more moment. That’s it—” her eyes widened—“that’s it, come on me, darling.”

  The countess’ breath caught, and then she shuddered, clenching him in a tight vise of warmth. Jonathan gritted his teeth at the sensations, letting her focus on the pleasure that continued to wrack her body, letting her become aware that he had watched it all. Her head landed on his shoulder and she drew in deep desperate gasps of air.

  Jonathan cradled her close, loving the weight of her in his arms, on his cock. Breathing deep her desire. Had she realized that they had never kissed? Not once had their lips even come close to one another. But he wanted that now. He wanted to taste the countess’ contentment and have her recognize him as the cause.

  He nuzzled her neck, kissed a path across her cheek, and captured her soft lips. Phoebe appeared startled, yet she closed her eyes and let him take what he needed. Her mouth opened for him and he swept his tongue inside. She tasted delightful, like warm caramel and he couldn’t help bu
t continue his assault. Small hands closed about his head, gentling him when he would have plundered. He was still firm, still achingly hard within her when she started to move.

  With his lover’s active participation, he thrust within her tight confines. But it wasn’t enough, he needed to move, to bury himself deep again and again. He craved friction.

  Jonathan stood, lifting Phoebe with him while they kissed and stumbled towards his bed. He lowered her down to the soft rumpled sheets, but kept their lips connected.

  The countess had a wicked tongue and she used it to inflame him. She invaded his mouth to match the lazy pace of his thrusts and he closed his eyes at the powerful need that rose up in him. He wanted to thrust hard, take control of this woman, and possess her in every way possible.

  He shifted until his feet hit the floor and looked down on her. Wide, pale green eyes regarded him, a lingering smile tugged at her lips. He reached for her hips and dragged her to the end of the bed. Phoebe glanced down.

  He took himself in hand, rubbing his wet cockhead across her nub. Phoebe panted hard from the sensation and he reinserted himself in a slow thrust. Her spine arched as he reached her limit and he grasped her breast tight.

  With one hand on her hip, one squeezing her breast, he set up a furious pace, thrusting hard into her body. Phoebe’s hand fluttered over her bunched up skirts and then slipped to her nub. She touched herself while their gaze held, pushing his desire high at the erotic sight. Jonathan rolled her nipple between his thumb and fingers, pinching and drawing on the peak.

  Phoebe’s fingers moved frantically. She curled up to watch him pound into her. Her curiosity was his undoing. Jonathan’s release tightened his balls, unstoppable desire swept over him as he came so hard he shouted out. While his body shuddered, his lover cried out her release too, and then she collapsed to the soft bedding, as sated as he. Jonathan followed, keeping his cock buried deep but rolling until Phoebe lay boneless over his chest.

  He held her tight, dragged in the desire-scented air around them, and wished they didn’t ever have to leave this room. Phoebe seemed content to lie with him. He let his hands travel over her gown covered back and wished he’d taken the time to undress her. Maybe next time—tonight if he was a very lucky man—he might have her bare between his sheets.

  But this time there would be no darkness to hide behind. He wanted to see where he kissed, where he touched, and to watch her face every time she reached for bliss.

  “Dinner will be announced soon. I have to go.” Phoebe squirmed, expelled him from her body, and slid off his chest without meeting his gaze. But he captured her hand to hold her to the bed.

  “Wait.” Jonathan surged up and captured her lips in a possessive kiss. He couldn’t let her get away with that look of embarrassment on her face. Their lust was natural, addictive, and he wanted her to accept it now before anyone or anything else intruded.

  Phoebe crawled into his lap, deepening their kiss until they were both panting.

  When they parted, Jonathan held her snug in his arms and simply looked at her. She was beautiful, breathtaking, and all his, if he got his way.

  After a little while, Phoebe relaxed and her lips curled into an exasperated smile. “Why in heavens name would you wish to make love to me?”

  That was an easy question to answer. “Because.” He grabbed her hand and wedged it between them. Her fingers wrapped around his growing length, and then to his delight—tightened. “You’ve had an enlarging affect on me for some time. I’d rather explore what might be between us than ignore it another day.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “There shouldn’t be anything between us. Are you mad?” Phoebe escaped Selwood’s hands before he could distract her again with kisses.

  The younger man followed, striding proudly across the room in absolutely nothing at all. “Not in the least.”

  The earl ran his hand through his dark hair and the effect on her senses as his muscles flexed was frightening. She wanted nothing more than to curl up against that broad chest and seek the pleasure he so readily gave. Phoebe pressed the heel of her hand to her brow to expel the image of his body. “This is insane. I shouldn’t share your bed. This cannot happen again.”

  He shrugged. “You’re a grown woman. You’re not cuckolding a husband. Who’s to say aught about the matter?”

  “Warminster,” she reminded him. Really did the man have no sense? The last man to cross her stepson had found himself impressed on one of the king’s ships and bound for the colonies.

  Selwood set his feet wide, hands resting on his hips. “Warminster can bluster all he likes, but he won’t stand in my way. Besides, he owes me.”

  “Owes you?” Phoebe heard her voice rise to shrillness but couldn’t control it. “Am I some sort of reward then?”

  Selwood’s dark gaze pierced her. “Don’t be ridiculous, woman. That’s not what I meant at all.”

  Phoebe shook her head. “This is impossible. I’ll not be responsible for ending your friendship.”

  Selwood approached and despite her good intentions, she allowed him to draw her tight against his chest. His skin was warm against her cheek and she breathed in the heady scent of him. Without meaning to, Phoebe curled her arms about his bare waist and clutched him tight. His erection, already firm again, prodded her belly.

  “Warminster will become used to the idea in due time,” he murmured, skimming his hands down her spine. “He’s not completely unreasonable.”

  “Do you have any idea of how many weapons he has in this house?” Phoebe pressed her lips to Selwood’s chest, imagining the horror of that number.

  “I imagine as many as I.” Selwood pressed a kiss to her hair. “Have some faith in my powers of persuasion.”

  “Oh, I’m well acquainted with your powers.” Phoebe pushed out of his arms. “That’s what’s gotten me in trouble in the first place.”

  Selwood smiled but said nothing more.

  “I have to go.” But her hands wanted nothing more than to stay and explore all that divine muscle.

  “Yes, dinner will be announced soon. You have Warminster’s guests to entertain.”

  Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “Please don’t remind me. I will be relieved when this week is over and we get Moreton Hall to ourselves again.”

  “I’ll see you at dinner then.” Selwood bowed extravagantly.

  Disconcerted to have a naked man bow so elegantly to her, Phoebe rushed from the room to get ready for the evening.

  While she bathed and dressed, Phoebe considered what Lord Selwood had said. He intended for Warminster to learn of their liaison, that they were lovers. Warminster would not be happy about that at all. He would make her life even more difficult.

  Phoebe entered the drawing room with considerable trepidation to mingle with her stepson’s guests. Although by rights she should have acted as Warminster’s hostess, his prickly disposition made it impossible to do so. So far, the most he’d allowed was letting her order the tea to be served in the drawing room.

  “I see Lord Selwood has joined our party,” Lady Clifford purred loudly in her ear. “Such a handsome, virile man. What we wouldn’t give to be ten years younger, eh?”

  Phoebe gasped. Given that Lady Clifford’s age was greater than her own, she couldn’t possibly hope to appeal to a younger man. Mind you, Phoebe thought that of herself less than twenty-four hours ago. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  When she glanced across the room she spotted Lord Selwood chatting with Warminster. The odd pairing—one draped in claret silk, the other clothed in blue superfine —seemed as cozy as usual. That would end.

  Lady Clifford tapped her arm. “I’m certain he’s headed for marriage. See there—” the lady pointed across the room—“he’s already got a likely candidate lined up for a wife. A pity for him that my daughter favors Lord Warminster at the present moment. But still, Selwood won’t have trouble finding an experienced playmate to ease his disappointment. He’s still sensible enough to cast his eye abou
t for a willing bed partner while he bides his time. Young men are insatiable.”

  Aghast at the conversation, Phoebe fanned herself. Of course Selwood would marry, and possibly soon, but could he be after the insipid Lady Jocelyn too? She looked up in time to see Lady Jocelyn insinuate herself in the men’s conversation. There was no mistaking the calf’s eyes she made as Lord Selwood’s gaze fell on her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  But she did.

  Lady Jocelyn had her sights set on both Warminster and Selwood. They were evenly matched in both title and fortune, and the chit could have them at each other’s throats before the house party was over. What a mess.

  “I’ve always considered him a crafty one, but there’s no point pretending. There’ll be an agreement reached before the house party ends.” Lady Clifford glanced around, smiling in anticipation.

  Phoebe’s stomach churned at the image of Selwood in bed with Lady Jocelyn. She wouldn’t glance in that direction again.

  “Oh, thank heavens. Excuse us, Lady Clifford.” Lizzy Oliver clutched at her arm and dragged Phoebe toward a blessedly empty corner. “I feared you’d never arrive. Where have you been all afternoon?”

  Coming apart at her brother’s command. She couldn’t very well say that out loud. “Oh, I had a, um, headache,” Phoebe improvised.

  “Oh, you poor dear. Then a lie down was just the right tonic. You are positively radiant this evening.”

  “Thank you,” Phoebe stammered. Lord Selwood – a tonic to restore a woman’s vitality? How about the very thing to destroy a lady’s peace? Just a glimpse of him set her pulse racing. She wasn’t sure how she’d get through the evening knowing he’d be under Lady Jocelyn’s thumb soon.

  “So, what am I to do about Warminster?”

  Phoebe blinked. “What about Warminster?”

  “Oh, bother. Can the blathering fool not go away?”

  Phoebe turned and spotted Warminster and Selwood making their way toward their quiet corner. Lord Selwood drew closer, handsome in his dark evening coat, and Phoebe’s pulse beat as loud as any parade ground drum. At sixteen, Selwood hadn’t seemed comfortable around her. Their friendship had taken time to develop. Now that they were lovers, Phoebe was the one to be discomforted by him.