Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

T his woman was either going to be the death of him or bring him to a higher form of pleasure than he had ever known before.

At this point, however, he was willing to sacrifice himself.

"Should I put my mouth on you?" she asked with enthusiasm, and he had to do all he could to hold his groan within.

"While I would love that more than I can properly put into words," he said as sweat beaded on his brow, "let's start with something a bit simpler." He reached toward her. "Give me your hand."

She did as he requested, her complete trust nearly breaking him as he placed it on his member and then lay down before her as she had done to him. She stroked him lightly, sending his every nerve on edge.

"What do I do?"

Realizing he would hardly be able to form words, he placed his hand over hers, gripping it with just the right tightness before moving it up and down, from his base to the tip.

"Yes," he moaned as she continued, and soon enough she had the rhythm and he was able to release his hand, allowing her to continue on her own. What she lacked in inexperience she made up for with her effort, and Fitz wondered if there had ever been a more willing woman.

Fitz wanted to enjoy this and hoped it would last.

But it seemed her eagerness was far too much for him.

Fitz bit back a groan as his body tensed, the familiar sensation building up inside of him. He glanced down at Eliza's hand, still moving up and down over his shaft as he neared his breaking point.

His eyes closed briefly, as he desperately tried to extend the pleasure, but he could still picture the curve of her lips, her flushed cheeks, and the way her muscles rippled beneath her skin as she moved her hand. He relinquished himself to all of the sensations, lost in her, so caught up in her presence that he barely noticed the time passing.

A soft moan escaped his lips, and he gripped the linen beneath him tightly. His body filled with heat, and her scent surrounded him, a heady mixture of her perfume and perspiration. He could feel the inevitable cresting closer with every stroke of her hand, and he knew he had to stop her before he shocked her.

"Eliza," he murmured, his eyes flying open and meeting hers. She was watching her movements with a small smile of satisfaction on her face. "Stop now."

"Stop?" she said, sitting backward, her eyes widening. "Why?"

"Because I… I'm going to come, and I don't want to…"

"Come, then," she said, challenging him.

"But—"

It was too late, however. There was no more time to warn her away and soon enough he was finishing. He expected her to pull away, to be disgusted or, at the very least, shocked, but not Eliza. No, she just continued, pumping him until he finished and could do nothing more but lay his head back on the linen behind him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his eyes still closed, not wanting to look at her.

"For what?" she said, rustling around him, and when he finally had the strength to push himself up on his elbows, it was to watch her clean her hands in the lake, wipe them on the linen, and then begin to dress once more – as though this was something she did every day.

"For making a mess all over you."

"Easy enough to clean," she said cheerily. "Besides, I asked for it." She stopped, turning around to look at him over her shoulder. "Could you please lace up my dress?"

He wiped a hand over his face and pushed himself to his feet. "Of course."

He laced up the back of her dress, his fingers strangely shaking as he fastened the buttons before cleaning up himself and beginning to dress.

"Are you finished swimming?" she asked, and he nodded, as his very reason for swimming in the cold lake was standing before him.

"We should probably return to the house separately," he said. "You go first."

"Very well." She placed a few more pins in her hair. "Thank you, Fitz. I can't wait to do that again. Well, that… and more."

With one last cheeky grin, she sauntered off through the trees toward the house, leaving Fitz standing there in shock, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

It was either the best decision he had ever made… or the worst.

Eliza had been a fool.

She'd read one book – one – about the intimacies that could occur between men and women and suddenly she had thought she was some kind of expert.

An encounter with Fitz was all it had taken to prove that she knew nothing at all.

Until now.

After they had taken their pleasure, completely naked in the middle of the woods, she rushed back to the house as though she was being chased.

For she had been afraid that if she'd stayed, she would be unable to prevent herself from asking for more.

It was one thing to experiment.

It was another to become a complete wanton.

For the remainder of the day, she had been unable to think of anything else but Fitz, what he had done to her, and how he had made her feel. Now, she wanted nothing more but to do it again.

She wished she hadn't run off like she did, but rather had discussed with him when they would next meet. Now, she had no idea what she was supposed to do. Was she to proposition him again? If she waited for him to ask first, would she be waiting forever? She could only imagine all of the experienced lovers he had taken in the past. He was probably laughing to himself right now over how inexperienced and ineffective she was.

Eliza shook her head abruptly. It wasn't like her to question herself. Damn it, but she did do a good job. He had finished, had he not?

If it was with anyone else, she knew it would be no issue, that she would be as certain of herself as she always was.

But this was Fitz. The man who ignored her, who she was sure had still seen her as a young girl, whose eyes had passed over her every time he came upon her in the ballroom unless he was forced to dance with her because her brother had struck some deal.

She flung herself back on her bed, awaiting her lady's maid to come attend to her for dinner.

A dinner in which she would likely have to sit at the same table as Fitz and pretend that nothing had happened between them.

She desperately wished that she had someone she could ask for advice. If only Siena was here. But no, Siena was happily married, hours away, and completely unaware of any of the dynamics between Fitz and Eliza.

Goodness, she wished that she had told Siena of the history between the two of them. Or lack of history as one would have it. That she'd had such a penchant for him. That she was the only lady Lord Fitzroy did not see as a woman.

Until she had practically forced him to.

She sat bolt upright in bed.

She might not be able to sit down and have the conversation with Siena that she longed to have, but she could still tell her all about her plight.

Deciding that dinner and her maid could wait for a time, she jumped off the bed, seeking out the library, where there was sure to be stationary. Appleton claimed a smaller library, but from what she could remember, it was quiet, comfortable, and contained a small writing desk that looked over the sash windows into the beautiful, blooming garden below and the orchard that sat in the distance.

Eliza pulled out the ornate, elegant chair, laughing to herself at the idea of Fitz sitting in it, before finding stationary. She dipped her quill into the ink and began to write, pouring her heart out on the page, telling Siena all that she should have shared with her before now.

She was careful in wording her arrangement with Fitz. While Siena would never betray her secrets, there was always the chance a letter could fall into the wrong hands.

A crush was one thing. A scandalous affair was another.

But she would have to risk it. She replaced the pen and folded her letter, finding a stamp and wax in the desk drawer. Once she was certain that her private letter was sealed, she carefully wrote Siena's new address on the outside before finding one of the servants to ask for it to be sent away immediately.

Maybe Siena would be able to respond in time with answers.

One could only hope, for at the moment Eliza, the woman who claimed to know everything, was completely and utterly lost.

Fitz had avoided dinner the previous evening.

Not on purpose – in truth, he did have business to attend to – but he didn't think he had it within him to stare at Eliza all evening, knowing what was hiding beneath her gown.

Full, luscious breasts.

Hips that he could take hold of and use to his advantage.

Soft skin, dotted with the tiniest of dark freckles.

Whether she hated him or not, her body had certainly welcomed him, and he wondered when would be too soon to ask her to meet him for their next lesson.

He grew hard just thinking about what that lesson would be.

That afternoon, the day after their liaison, he was back in his study, seeing to various matters of the estate. He threw a letter into the pile to be posted and then saw that his mother's letters were sitting on his desk, waiting to be franked.

Deciding he deserved a break, he reached over and began to initial them – until he realized that the letter he was holding in his hand was not his mother's handwriting at all. It was much firmer, with broad, loopy strokes, nothing at all like his mother's delicate script.

He held the letter in his hand, seeing the seal as well as Dunmore's wife's name on the outside. It was from Eliza.

He shifted the letter from one hand to the next.

He shouldn't. This was Eliza's private letter, written for her friend alone.

And yet… he wondered, just what did she have to say that was so important she had to write her friend immediately? Would she dare to put anything about their arrangement on paper?

It was one thing to have a dalliance with a widow or a lady who was not of high birth. It was quite another to do so with a young lady who would one day be expected to enter her marriage completely innocent. If she told anyone…

That settled it. He best open it and discover just what she had said. He could always re-seal it.

He cracked the letter open, finding that it was one written page, from Eliza to Siena, who was now married to the Duke of Dunmore, his closest friend in the world.

And oh, what an intriguing letter it appeared to be.

He sat back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other as he rested them on the desk, and began to read.

My dearest Siena,

I am so sorry to disturb you and the duke. You were correct in sensing that there was more between me and Lord Fitzroy, and I only wish I had confided in you before I left. You had battled through so much that I did not want to add any more concerns to your list.

But let me first tell you why any of this matters.

She proceeded to explain how she had come to be at Fitz's estate, as well as the fact that most of his sisters had left his country home to visit friends.

As you know, I have been acquainted with Lord Fitzroy for some time, being friends with his sisters. When I was a girl, I so fancied him.

Interesting .

Not, of course, that I ever expected him to see me in return. He was quite a few years older than me, and usually away at school. When we did encounter one another, I am sure he looked at me as a young girl.

That much was true.

Then I came of age. I knew he would be at my first outing, and while I never expected anything to come of it, nor did I hold my childish penchant for him any longer. However, I had still hoped that he would notice me.

He didn't even look my way.

On that, she was wrong.

Instead, he spent the rest of the night charming every other debutante, danced with each of them, and likely went home with one of the widows who had been eyeing him all night.

Wrong again – on the widow part, at least.

When the night came to a close, he came to collect his sisters, who I was standing with. You were being charmed by some overly eager young lord, likely politely turning him away. When Lord Fitzroy finally looked at me, it was only to say goodnight, and, Siena, I am sorry to say that I allowed my outspoken spirit to take over and I was rather rude to him.

Fitz smiled wide when he read that. She had been rude. He would never forget how she had spoken to him – "You, Lord Fitzroy, can take your goodnight and place it where—" She had stopped before she had reached the end, but it had certainly left an impression on him, even as he had wondered all of these years later just what he had done to deserve her derision. Now he knew.

I saw him time and again afterward, but it was always the same. He went out of his way to avoid me, and I realized that despite other suitors showing interest in me, there must be something wrong with me. The man loves everything that moves with breasts – what was it about me that turned him away?

If only she knew.

It caused great ire within me, and I must say that I have never been overly agreeable to Lord Fitzroy. It was why I was annoyed with him when he appeared at Greystone at the same time I did. I had no choice but to be polite – as was he, when he was forced into proximity with me.

I am sure we would have lived the rest of our days crossing paths politely had I not arrived here at Appleton.

I was bored, Siena. It is my only excuse. Between my boredom and my goal to obtain experiences that I had only before read about, I asked him if he would help.

I didn't give him much choice in the matter, I'm afraid.

Fitz laughed out loud at that.

He agreed to partner with me to learn about the various matters that I have told you about that arose in the book of Baxter's I found.

The cheeky little minx, stealing her brother's book. His chuckle continued.

When we finished our first session, I left. Walked away. Now, I have no idea if he is truly interested, or just humoring me. Did I make a mistake? Oh, Siena, I wish you were here to tell me what to do.

I hope you are enjoying your time with your husband.

I love you always!

Eliza

Fitz set the letter down in front of him, steepling his fingers underneath his chin. So, she was under the impression he thought there was something wrong with her, then, did she?

Well, now that he had this information, he would have to show her that so many of her assumptions were in error.

Except for one – that she had made the right choice in propositioning him.