Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

X enia walked to him like Aphrodite emerging from the sea. Her tresses played peekaboo with her mouthwatering curves, and her eyes shone with beguiling new confidence. There was also a hint of mischief in her smile…that of a minx who was discovering her own sensual power. Under normal circumstances, Ethan found Xenia irresistible. At present, his rampant erection threatened to push through the panels of his robe.

His pulse broke into a staccato when she halted in the vee of his legs and started to kneel. Christ, he liked the way her mind worked. However, he wouldn't last if she put her mouth on his cock, and he wanted to draw out the pleasure.

"Hold that thought, pet." He circled his fingers around her wrist, dragging her onto his lap. "I want to taste your mouth first before I enjoy it in other ways."

Given that she was naked and straddling him, it seemed impossible that she could look innocent. Yet she turned a charming shade of pink that turned him into a territorial beast. He couldn't believe that this sweet girl had fallen into his lap—figuratively as well as literally—and he burned to claim her as his. Although she insisted their affair had no strings, she was wrong: their bond was growing stronger day by day. She'd trusted him enough to talk about her follower, and she'd come to his room, panicked by a dream of him coming to harm. He could discuss his family and his music with her—the fears and hopes that were too tender to share with anyone else.

Each kiss, each touch—hell, each argument they had—deepened their relationship. He'd never been this intimate with any woman before, and he hadn't even made love to her fully. While he had much to learn about her past, he nonetheless knew her —the woman she was, the woman…

The woman I am falling in love with.

The knowledge soared through him like a Bach hymnal. With Constance, he'd envisioned a calm and conventional future. With Xenia, he didn't know what the future would bring, but he didn't care…as long as she was in it.

"Kiss me," he ordered.

He slid his fingers into her hair as she pressed her lips to his. She tasted of port and her own sweetly intoxicating flavor. When he licked inside her mouth, she licked him back, making his cock jerk against her bottom. He curled her hair around his fist, holding her still while he drove his tongue deep. His blood rushed when her pussy dampened the fabric over his cock.

His little minx liked a bit of roughness, did she?

He yanked harder on her hair, exposing her throat. He set his mouth on the vulnerable arch, kissing and sucking, increasing the pressure. When she squirmed, he experimented with his teeth, and her excited little gasp told him everything he needed to know.

Christ, she's a wild one. Absolutely, bloody perfect.

He cupped one enticing tit while putting his mouth on the other. He teased her nipple with his tongue, flicking then sucking. He went back and forth, pausing to bury his face between her plump mounds, inhaling her clean, womanly scent.

Her breathless pleas drove him wild. He traced the supple curve of her spine down to her crevice. He feathered over her forbidden rim and noted her little shiver…another thing to explore later. He brought his fingers lower, and satisfaction rolled through him at the lushness of her response. With Xenia, he always knew where he stood.

"You're soaked, minx. We can't let that cream go to waste, can we?"

He brought his dew-slicked fingers to his mouth. Her eyes got even bigger when he licked his middle digits. The devil inside him wanted to push her a little.

"Your turn." He offered her his fingers.

Blushing to the roots of her hair, she hesitated before taking a tentative lick that he felt in his balls. When he shuddered, her expression turned impish. She closed her lips around him, applying suction. He growled, pushing his fingers into her saucy mouth. Her naughtiness and the velvet pad of her tongue unleashed his basest urges. He gave a few rough thrusts before pulling out his digits and bringing them to her pussy. He pushed a finger into her slowly, and she clutched his shoulders, gasping.

"You're so tight," he said. "And you're squeezing my finger. Do you want more?"

"Yes." Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes dazed. "Give me more."

Her dew eased his way. As he impaled her to the knuckle, a feeling of déjà vu stirred. A fragment floated into his consciousness...a dream he'd had of Sirena. Of her riding his hand just like this. He pushed the thought aside, not wanting to spoil the moment. Xenia deserved his full attention. She was his fantasy come to life.

"Can you take more?" he asked.

At her moaned reply, his cock jerked, pre-seed wetting his dome. He added another finger, gritting his teeth at the exquisite stretch, imagining those untried muscles gripping his cock. He pushed all the way in, letting her adjust before retreating. He repeated the motion, and when she started to wriggle, he knew she was ready for more.

"Ride my fingers, pet," he said.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she rose up, her eyelids fluttering as she sank down. She did it again and again with sensual grace. Her pussy made slick, squelching sounds…the most enchanting music. Yet it was the way her gaze stayed locked on his that took him to the edge. She was looking at him as if he were the epicenter of her pleasure…of her everything.

The need to bring her over blazed through him. He didn't have sufficient dexterity in his free hand to diddle her pearl, but he could do something else with it. Lifting his left hand, he spanked her bottom. She squealed, her pussy clenching his fingers. He spanked her again, and she rode him harder. The third time he swatted her blushing arse, she chanted his name and came.

Christ, did she ever. Savoring her full-body spasms, he gave her languorous kisses. A few moments later, he suspected that she was no longer trembling from the aftermath but wriggling against him with renewed purpose. She confirmed this by untying his robe and sliding her pussy over his turgid shaft. His chest heaved as she painted him with her lush folds.

Christ, if her pussy feels this good on the outside, how will it feel once I'm buried inside her?

His cock twitched as temptation once again beckoned. Until she was ready to trust him fully—to consider a future with him—he wouldn't give in to it. Not all the way, anyway.

He cocked a brow in challenge. "Shall we try it this way, pet? Can you make both of us come by rubbing your sweet cunny against my cock?"

Desire had never looked more beautiful to him than it did now, shining in her eyes.

"I shall put forth my best effort, sir," she said.

She was a cheeky one, all right.

And he was one fortunate bastard.

"What do you think?" Xenia asked.

As promised, she'd come to his study this morning, and they were sitting side by side at the B?sendorfer. She'd played the left hand to his right. Hearing the parts together had set the cogs turning in his head.

"The exposition needs something more," he said. "It is too simple."

Her brow pleated. "I think what you have is elegant."

"You say elegant, I say boring. I need to modulate to another key. Something like this."

He played a few notes for her, and she nodded slowly.

"That is more interesting," she admitted.

He experimented further, transitioning from C minor to E-flat major and reworking the progressions. He made notations, working so quickly that he smeared the ink.

"All right, I think this is better," he said. "Let's try it this way."

She gave him a demure look. "That is what you said last night."

The memory burst into his head: of her sitting in his lap and squirming against his cock, rubbing her wet pussy against him until they both exploded. The saucy wench had thought they were done, but he proved her wrong by eating her on his chesterfield, feasting on her until she sang her release again. He'd reached his second finale by pumping his cock, spraying his seed over her breasts while she watched with worshipful eyes.

"Minx," he growled. "How am I supposed to finish this sonata with you distracting me and making me hard?"

"All right," she said with a laugh. "No more flirting. Let's give it another go."

He wanted to give her another go, but he also wanted to keep working on the piece. With Xenia beside him, composing music—and life in general—felt less daunting and more fun. She was supportive yet honest, and while she didn't have much in the way of formal training, her innate musicality allowed her to give useful feedback. She was everything he hadn't known he needed… and he found her utterly irresistible. Cupping her jaw, he pulled her in for a quick kiss. Somehow their tongues got in the way, and when they broke apart, they were both panting.

"Now who is being distracting?" she asked breathlessly.

Seeing the smudge on her cheek, he smiled and reached for his handkerchief. "Hold still," he murmured. "I've left ink on you."

As he wiped off his fingerprint, she gazed at him with a tenderness that constricted his chest.

"Ethan, are you in here?" Gigi called.

His sister burst into his inner sanctum. Her dark ringlets swung as she gazed first at Xenia, who'd jumped up like a thief caught red-handed, then to Ethan, who rose at a less incriminating pace.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Gigi asked.

"No," Xenia said.

"Yes," Ethan said at the same time.

Gigi was obviously trying not to laugh. "No, yes…which is it?"

"I was working on a composition and wanted to hear it played," Ethan said with as much dignity as he could muster. "Mrs. Wood was helping me."

"But we're, um, finished, my lady," Xenia blurted. "And I must get back to my duties. If you'll both excuse me."

She fled the room, leaving him with his sister.

"You're composing?" Gigi's eyes shone. "Ethan, that's wonderful news!"

"Don't get too excited," he muttered. "I haven't made it past the exposition. Now, was there something you wanted?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Let's talk over tea."

They went to sit in his study. One of the giggly maids—Millie, Molly, or Mary…he couldn't for the life of him distinguish between them—brought in a tea tray before he rang for one. His chest warmed at Xenia's thoughtfulness, at the grace notes of her presence in his life.

"These scones are divine." Seated in a wingchair, Gigi dabbed a buttery morsel with clotted cream and jam. "If this were London, someone would have lured your cook away in an instant."

He couldn't deny that Mrs. Johnson was a find. The fare she produced could compete with the best in London, and it was a miracle that Xenia had found her in Chuddums. Then again, his minx had a way of performing miracles.

"Mrs. Wood found her," he said.

"What would you do without Mrs. Wood?" Gigi said airily.

The possibility chilled him, and he didn't want to contemplate it.

"Was there something you wished to discuss?" he asked.

"Actually, we are discussing it: Mrs. Wood."

Instantly, he was wary. Had Gigi guessed the nature of his relationship with Xenia? While they'd tried to be discreet, the scene Gigi interrupted had smacked of intimacy. Moreover, his sister was uncommonly perceptive. Since she was a girl, she'd been the first to pick up on tensions and intrigues within their family. At heart, she was a peacemaker who wanted everyone to get along…which had made things difficult for her these last few years.

"It is about the gift you asked me to order for Mrs. Wood," Gigi explained.

He'd taken a calculated risk, asking his sister to order the dress for Xenia. But having observed Xenia's soft, covetous expression when she'd touched the frock, he'd been determined to give it to her. Of course, he couldn't buy a dress for his housekeeper without causing talk, and Xenia had so much pride that she might not accept it from him. Thus, he'd hit upon the plan of asking his sister to buy it.

Pulling Gigi aside, he'd told her that he saw Mrs. Wood eyeing the green dress and wanted to reward her for her excellent service. Gigi, being Gigi, picked up on the dilemma immediately. She offered to purchase the dress for Mrs. Wood—with Ethan's funds, of course, since she was a sieve with her pin money. The situation had worked out well…or so Ethan had thought.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"No. But the dress just arrived, and I was wondering what you want me to do with it."

"Give it to Mrs. Wood," he said. "Like we discussed before, tell her it is a gift from you."

Gigi gnawed on her lip, then blurted, "Mrs. Wood is very sweet, and you mustn't hurt her."

He stilled. "I beg your pardon?"

His sister's cheeks reddened, but she met his gaze squarely. "I am not a dummy, Ethan," she said. "It is obvious from the way you look at one another when you think no one else is watching that there is something going on."

He grew uncomfortably warm under the collar. "If you are implying?—"

"I am not implying anything. I am saying it directly because you are my brother, and I care about your happiness." She took a breath. "And you haven't seemed happy, not for a long time. Not since…since the accident."

He was momentarily stunned. While his family tended to be oversolicitous about his injury, they rarely addressed the subject of how he'd received it. They had their reasons. His parents and siblings didn't want to upset him…and they feared widening the rift between him and Owen. Since the rift was more of a chasm, however, he didn't think they could do further damage. Nonetheless, why would Gigi, the pacifist, bring up a topic she normally avoided like the plague?

"I didn't think Constance helped matters," his sister said, wrinkling her nose. "But when she broke things off, I was worried that how your engagement ended would make everything worse. You wouldn't talk about it with the family, and then you came here, to a manor in the middle of nowhere. Bottoms House of Chudleigh Bottoms, for heaven's sake. I was dreading the state I would find you in."

"You needn't have worried, Gigi. I am fine," he said gruffly.

He was surprised to realize that this was true. He was in a different frame of mind now than when he'd left London…than he'd been in a long time, in truth. He had to credit the change to Xenia.

"I see that." His sister smiled. "While the country air might agree with you, Ethan, I also think your improved mood has to do with Mrs. Wood."

"She has been of great help. She's made the manor habitable?—"

"And she's made you much more comfortable to be around. You are far less brooding than you were, brother dear."

"Is there a point to this analysis of my mood?"

"It is simply this: as relieved and overjoyed as I am that you are feeling better, I don't wish it to be at the expense of Mrs. Wood."

"I don't follow," he said.

"For years, I saw you surrounded by an adoring female horde. Even after your injury, when you avoided the public eye, Constance managed to worm her way into your sphere. I am not saying you encouraged any of this, but you are used to female attention, Ethan, and have always taken it as your due. But Mrs. Wood…she's different from the others."

His sister's insights both disturbed and alarmed him. "How do you mean?" he asked.

"Mrs. Wood is not after your fame or wealth, for starters. And unlike Constance, she's not using you to establish herself as some Paragon of Womanly Virtue."

"Constance wasn't using me…"

He trailed off, drawing his brows together at his sister's unsettling supposition. Was that why Constance had pursued him after his accident? He'd thought it was because she was compassionate and willing to take on a damaged fellow like himself. Christ, he'd been grateful for her unending patience when it came to his brooding and irritability.

"Wasn't she?" Gigi curled her lip. "I didn't dislike Constance because of some childish whim. I disliked her because of the way she treated you. Like you were some damaged rake who needed to be reformed by her righteous guidance. If I had a penny for every time she told me that I should be more patient with you—give you space and leave you to your moods—I would be rolling in pin money. She wedged herself between you and not only our family, but the rest of the world. She indulged your worst tendencies and acted as if she was the only one who could understand you."

Reeling, Ethan said, "If you believed all that, why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I tried . Countless times." Gigi balled her hands in her lap. "But you wouldn't hear a bad word against Constance and got angry if I brought it up. I feared putting a strain on our relationship, so I stopped."

He remembered being annoyed with Gigi. He'd thought that she was being a spoilt brat—that she was jealous of Constance for being the paragon that she wasn't.

In reality, did I shoot the messenger?

"I'm sorry," he said with prickling awareness. "I should have listened."

"Apology accepted. As long as I may say I told you so as many times as I like."

At that, he narrowed his eyes.

"Fine. I shall only say it on holidays and special occasions." Gigi's expression turned serious. "But I hope you will heed me when it comes to Mrs. Wood. Trust me when I say she is unlike other dalliances you've had. To you, she may be a convenient distraction, but you could hurt her if you are not careful."

Ethan did not know what appalled him more. That his sister was speaking of his "dalliances" or that she believed that he would use Xenia for his own selfish ends.

"I have no intention of hurting Mrs. Wood," he said brusquely.

"Are your intentions honorable?"

"My private affairs are none of your business?—"

"Didn't we just establish that they are? After all, if you'd listened to me about Constance…"

He gave a disgruntled sigh. Gigi was never more annoying than when she was right. Which, unfortunately, was often. Truth be told, he wanted to discuss the notion that had seeded itself in his brain with someone who knew Xenia and his family. Someone whom he could trust to give their honest opinion. While he wished that someone was not his baby sister, he did not have many options.

"If Mrs. Wood were to become a permanent fixture in my life, how would you feel about it?" he asked carefully.

Gigi tipped her head to one side. "By ‘permanent,' do you mean she would be your mistress or your wife?"

"Devil take it." He scowled at her. "Of course I meant I would marry her. Do you think I would discuss the matter with you otherwise?"

"There is no need to be cross. I wanted to be sure. And to answer your question: I would very much like having Mrs. Wood as my sister-in-law."

Even though he'd suspected as much, some of his tension eased.

"And the rest of the family?" he asked. "How do you think they would react?"

"We are not a bunch of snobs, as well you know. Nor are we sticklers for propriety…well, with the exception of James," she said thoughtfully. "He's a bit of a stick-in-the-mud when it comes to duty. Ultimately, I think that what he and the rest of us care about most is your happiness. If you and Mrs. Wood love one another, then why shouldn't you get married?"

Put that way, it seemed so simple. While he and Xenia had not made professions of love, he could not deny that he was falling for her. He was reasonably certain she was falling for him too. Xenia's inability to hide her feelings from him was one of her most endearing qualities…even if she harbored secrets.

Her past was a barrier he'd yet to surmount. However, he was chipping away at her defenses, and she'd disclosed some facts. Enough for him to know that she'd been making her own way in the world for a long time, without the support of family, friends, or even a lover. It explained a lot about her resourcefulness and insecurities about her self-worth.

He was proud of her strength and resilience. Proud that such a woman wanted him.

Now all I have to do is win her trust.

"The decision is not mine alone," he said slowly. "Mrs. Wood does not wish to make any commitments. Something happened in her past that has her running scared. She refuses to talk about it."

"She does seem skittish." Gigi brightened and sat up straighter. "However, I have a plan."

Because he knew his sister, he asked with suspicion, "What sort of plan? You are not to engage in any of your harum-scarum schemes?—"

"Don't worry about a thing." She bounced up, making a beeline for the door. "I know what I'm doing."

"I mean it, Gigi. Do not meddle in my affairs."

"When have I ever meddled, brother dearest?"

Gigi shot him a guileless look before hurrying out.

He groaned.

Bloody hell. I am doomed.