Romance: Detective Romance: A Vicious Affair (Victorian Regency Intrigue 19th England Romance) (Historical Mystery Detective Romance) (46 page)

“I am not your enemy, sweet Dolores,” Mervin said.

Sweet Dolores.
Her palms pricked with sweat. Something totally disconnected from high society and hits etiquette rose within her. Something animalistic, atavistic.Something from her as a woman and not a lady.She forced it down. A lady did not listen to urges like that.

“I am beginning to believe you, Mervin,” she said. “But you must know that I cannot know for sure. How can I? Short from seeing within your mind, I will not know.”

Mervin sighed. “I understand,” he said. “Your hand is so small.”

“And yours is so large.”

He turned and faced her, their hands still interlaced between them. She faced him, looking into his face, into the strength of his jaw, the softness of his eyes, the emotion underlying it all. He closed his eyes for a few moments, and then opened them again. “Impure thoughts attack me,” he said, his voice weak. “You would blush if I shared them.”

“Share them!” Dolores said, on impulse. She bit her lip. “I apologize. That was--”

But she didn’t finish her sentence. Mervin leaned in and laid his lips upon hers. He kissed her deeply, as she had never been kissed before. Not greedily or selfishly, not stealing the kiss, but inviting her into it, coaxing her. After a moment, she kissed him back, their bare hands touching. Their teeth clicked together, and their tongues touched. Nerves sprung up all over Dolores body, nerves she hadn’t known existed, all of them beaming pleasure through her. A hunger rose in her, and with her free hand she touched Mervin’s face. He moaned, and she moaned with him.

Then she broke it off, panting.

“I am sorry,” Mervin breathed, standing away from her. “I am sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I am—Oh, what a brute! What a fool!”

Dolores faced away from him, feelings roiling within her. She wanted him to kiss her again, and yet she knew it was wrong. She wanted to at least place her hand in his, but she knew it could lead to other things. She wanted to hold him, but it was improper. She wanted so many things, but none of them would do. They had crossed a line, a line that should never be crossed.

“Perhaps we should return to the house,” she said softly, still unable to look at him. Not because she was angry. But because if she looked at him again, her feelings might take control.She would lose herself to him, and they would cross the forbidden line once more.

“Yes,” Mervin said, “perhaps we should.”

They stood apart as they walked back toward the manor. Dolores held her head high, the picture of unimpeachable honor. Mervin walked with his shoulders wide, clearly furious with himself. She could tell that he thought he’d ruined things. She wanted to scream at him.
That was the most pleasure I have ever had, sweet Mervin. That was everything to me.
But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper. She was not ready to utterly cast aside propriety. Not yet, anyway.

And there was the fear that he had kissed her as a ploy of some kind, to muddy
his
reputation, and steal the manor.

As though reading her thoughts, he whispered: “That was truth, Dolores. What just happened—I know it was wrong. It shouldn’t have happened. But it did. And it was true.”

Dolores nodded, saying nothing, and then walked ever faster. Soon, they were at the manor. They said nothing. Dolores almost ran up the stairs to her bedroom. She slammed the door shut behind her.

In a moment, she heard the slam of the guest bedroom door.

*****

One week passed like a play. Dolores and Mervin, when they ran into each other, pretended as though nothing had happened. It was like there were two versions of them. There were the outward versions, which were the picture of propriety and could not be accused of any dishonorable conduct, and then there were the true versions, which peered at each other through their hidden eyes, begging to be set free.

But Dolores would never make the first move in that direction. She had not cast her honor aside to do that. So she found herself waiting for
him
to do something. Just waiting for him to once again break the rules, to ignore etiquette, to resume their relationship.He had done enough now to ruin her. If he wanted to, he could leave and report what had happened, and begin a case against her. But he didn’t leave. He stayed.

She was in the drawing-room late one night. The summer sun had long since set, and she was gazing out of the window at the blackness. A solitary candle burnt upon the table. She took a deep breath. Her thoughts were consumed with Mervin, with the pleasure his lips had revealed, with his strong face, with his muscular body, with his stoic heart which had come through the war unscathed. With the man who was not at all like his evil uncle.

There was a slight rasping at the door. She turned, and there he was, stepping into the room. The façade has started to slip, she could see. His clothes were no at immaculate as they had been, and when he looked at her, he could not keep a smile off his face.

“If you keep smiling at me, my lord,” Dolores said, “I will not be able to stop myself from joining you.”

“That would please me, my lady,” Mervin said, stepping into the light. “May I sit?”

She nodded, and he sat close to her, so close that she could feel the heat from his body. The naughty part of her urge her to reach forward and touch his face, to feel his warm skin against her palm. She sat straighter, and smiled at Mervin as though she was just his uncle’s widow and he was just a troubled nephew.

“Is something the matter, my lord?” she said.

“You know there is,” Mervin muttered. “Dolores. Let’s not pretend we are not on first-name terms, now, sweet Dolores.”

Dolores nodded shortly. “Mervin.” It felt good to say his name aloud. “What troubles you?”

“Dreams,” he said. “Dreams of your lips. Dreams of your body pressed against mine. Dreams of the passion and heat between us.Every night for the past week, these dreams have disturbed my nights.And yet perhaps disturb is the wrong word, for I would not banish them
for
the world.”

Dolores let the words wash over her, into her, around her. The words enveloped her. Passion rose within her and when she looked at him she felt something strong and impossible to ignore in her chest. Something that
was not quite love
, not quite lust, but somewhere between the two. He was leaning forward. She leant forward so they were sitting very close.

“I, too, have had these dreams,” she said. “I have had them more times than I can count. They have taken home in my mind. I can hardly close my eyes without thinking of the kiss, of the heat. I know it is monstrously unladylike to say aloud, but I enjoyed our time together immensely. Truly, I did. It was wonderful. The heat, the passion . . .” She shook her head in disbelief. “I hardly knew these things existed before I met you. They are otherworldly and sensational, Mervin.”

He watched her with a serious expression
upon
his face. Then he leaned even further and brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead with his finger. His finger lingered on her skin, and then moved down her face, past her nose, to her lips. He rubbed her bottom lip, and then moved his head close. Dolores closed her eyes as they kissed, as the passion erupted between them. Every fiber of her being stirred. Lust moved through her. Her womanhood ached for the first time since she was a young, naïve girl. Her womanhood ached and she was not ashamed of it.

“Come with me?” Mervin said, as the kiss stopped. “Come with me, Dolores?”

“Where?” She could hardly speak; her breath was coming so fast.

“Upstairs,” Mervin said. “I don’t want to fight this anymore. I came here to ruin you. Yes, that is the truth. I monstrous truth. A truth I am ashamed of. But now that I know you, I could never ruin you. Not if a thousand Frenchman holding muskets stood at my back. I would rather die. I love you, Dolores. I hardly knew what the word meant until I came here.”

“You love me,” Dolores whispered, savoring the words.

“I feel like I’ve known you for far longer than these shorts weeks,” he went on. “I feel like I’ve known you for a very long time indeed. Perhaps it is because I often thought of you in France. Or perhaps it is because of your beauty, or your quiet strength. I hardly know how it has happened. But I happy about it. And I wouldn’t change it. It is immutable. My love for you will never waver. Even if you push me away now, and shun me for the rest of your life, I will keep on loving you.”

Dolores sighed with relief. “I love you, too,” she said, and knew it to be true.

Blast the etiquette. Blast the uncertainty. She loved him. She loved him for all he was, and all he wasn’t. She loved him imperfectly. If love existed, if it was anything, then it was this. It was how she felt about Mervin. She knew it in her bones.

“I will come with you,” she said.

Together, they rose to their feet, unmarried man and
unmarried
woman, about to commit a wonderful, euphoric sin.

*****

He laid her upon her back and leaned over her. His breath was hot
upon
her body as he undressed her, slowly removing each garment until she was stark naked. The room was warm, and yet her nipples were hard. He looked down at her naked body with wide eyes and then fell to his knees. Baring his lips, he suckled her nipple and rubbed her breasts, palming the flesh, squeezing it. Dolores moaned in pleasure, biting her lip to stop from screaming.

He kept suckling her nipple, and then moved his hand down her body to her womanhood. Pressing his finger
upon
her lips, he began to rub. There was a spot on her mound that produced a wonderful amount of pleasure. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, hanging in the pleasure, basking in it as though it was sunlight. He rubbed her harder, faster. She heard her moans as though from a long distance. A wave was building within her, a wave of pleasure. She had never felt pleasure like this. It seized her entire body. She saw red, nothing else. The red of pleasure.

And then it all released, his fingers prompting a thousand spasms in her muscles as she gyrated upon the bed. She wriggled here and there, catching the pleasure, stopping it, making it stay. Her womanhood was wetter than it had ever been now. When the massive pleasure has passed, she opened her eyes. They felt foggy, as they did after a long sleep. She was lightheaded and a rictus smile captured her lips.

“I have never felt that before,” she whispered.

“I have never—anything like this before.”

“Neither have I.” She paused, and then touched his head. “Take off your clothes, Mervin, love.”

He stood beside the bed and undressed. His body was rippled with muscle and marked here and there with a scar, pink and faded. His manhood was huge and rock-hard. She gulped.

Then he climbed atop her, supporting himself with his arms. “Do you want it, Dolores? Are you sure?”

“I want it,” she said. She had never been surer. “I want it. Now.”

He reached down and touched his manhood, moving the tip so it brushed her lips. Then he pushed forward, entering her. She closed her eyes as his manhood filled her, pushing her lips aside and filling her completely. He grunted, and then thrusted into her, and out of her. Into her, and out of her.Slowly at first.And then faster.

Her womanhood was tight around him, but then his slow thrusts opened her, and she spread her legs wide to take him into her. She moved her hips with the motion of his thrusts. He took her hard, pounding into her. She heard herself screaming in pleasure and could hardly believe that it was her own voice she was hearing. “Yes, yes,
yes
,” she moaned.

Mervin groaned loudly and stared at her breasts, his eyes glassed over in a look of animalistic lust. “You are perfect,” he moaned, as he made love to her. “You are so, so perfect.”

“Harder,” Dolores willed. “As hard as you can.”

He buried his head in her neck and then thrust hard. Very hard.So hard that the sweet spot within her felt as though it were on fire. She shifted her hips with each thrust, pushing down as he pushed up, feeling the length of him enter and leave her three times a second. He was like a machine as he made love to her. The sweet spot grew even hotter. Dolores slammed her eyes shut tighter, and then the pleasure came once more, the massive pleasure. It made her womanhood tight, and she moaned loudly. It pricked every part of her body. Her head was fiercely warm. She felt like weeping in ecstasy.

Then Mervin grunted and fell atop her, his thrusts mad, frantic. He grunted once more, and then rolled upon his side, his muscular chest rising and falling in tandem with hers. His seed spilled from her womanhood, but she didn’t care.

She rolled onto her side and rested her head on his chest. She was terrified for a moment that he already devalued her, as most men would; that he already saw her as a whore. But then he cradled her head and kissed her hair, smelt it, moved his hands over her shoulders and massaged her.

“Do you still love me?” she said.

“Of course,” Mervin replied. “I’ll still love you later, too, when we’ve done it again.”

Dolores felt another thrill run through her.