Page 23 of Taming of the Rake
“No, thank you, David. I just want to sleep now. You may return at your convenience to try again. Thank you.”
Thank you.It was the coldest dismissal he’d ever been treated to.
“Of course. I will return tomorrow.”
“Very well.”
He climbed off the bed, turning the coverlet up over her before backing away. Regina remained where he left her, head turned toward the window. As he took up his coat and shrugged into it, David frowned, a bitter taste flooding his palate. Despite achieving release, he had never left a woman’s bed so dissatisfied in his life. Glancing down at himself, he cringed to realize he hadn’t even removed his boots.
It was what she wanted, he reminded himself as he turned for the door.
The thought did nothing to make him feel better, because David could see that what Regina wanted was based on what she thought intercourse ought to be. Who had taught her that? Had her wretch of a husband visited her bed this way—in the dark and still wearing his clothes—to take from her while giving nothing in return? Was that why Regina wanted it done with quickly? Of course it was. No woman wanted some panting, sweating beast of a man rutting on her with no care to her needs. She fathomed no other way because no one had taken the time to show her otherwise.
Rationalizing all of this in his mind, David ignored the questioning stare of Powell as he made for the stairs without a look back.
His skin crawled with the need to immerse himself in a hot bath. Not once over his years as a courtesan had David felt like an object, something to be used and then discarded once he’d fulfilled an obligation. He had reveled in the feeling of being desired and wanted, being able to put a smile on the face of the woman in his bed. There was nothing he found more beautiful than a woman flushed with passion, stretching and grinning like a cat lying under the warmth of the sun.
Tonight, however, he left the home of his new keeper feeling filthy and low, and wondering how he was ever going to make himself go through with this night after night for God knew how long. Better for them both if Regina turned up pregnant sooner rather than later.
Chapter 5
“This author happened to spot the Honourable Mr. R and his wife about Town the other day. The artistic gentleman was engrossed in selecting pigments for his craft while Mrs. R lingered over the most darling items meant for an infant. Dear reader, if you took my advice and wagered that the newlywed lady would be breeding by Christmas … I do believe it is time to collect your winnings.”
-The London Gossip,7 December 1819
Regina turned onto her side, staring sightlessly through the drapes parted to the moonlit night. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she made herself as small as possible and wrapped her arms around herself. Despite her best efforts, she could not seem to stop shaking. It wasn’t that she was cold—quite the opposite. The warmth of her courtesan’s body still clung to her nightgown, and his scent had imprinted itself on the sheets. It flooded her nostrils with every inhale—sandalwood and musk. Her throat constricted, and she forced herself to swallow and breathe while reminding herself why this was necessary.
David’s seed was slick and sticky between her thighs, her only comfort in the aftermath of what had just happened. Tonight, they might have conceived the child she wanted so badly. Enough to part with several thousand pounds. Enough to allow a man back into her bed after so many years of loathing the act of intercourse. Randolph made certain she could never enjoy it, though for years she had lain still and tolerated him with a single hope burning in her chest. If his attentions would bear fruit and give her someone to love and call her own, she could bear it. She could part her legs and do her wifely duty and swallow her revulsion.
Only, time and the fruitlessness of his affairs had proven her husband unable to sire children, yet another cruel circumstance of a life that had heaped nothing but misery on her.
Pressing a hand against the flat stretch of her belly, she silently prayed.
Please … please … please …
Please let her plan work so she would not have to spend the rest of her life alone and mourning what never was. Please let her womb quicken sooner rather than later, so she wouldn’t have to withstand the attentions of her courtesan any more than necessary.
It would have been funny if Regina still possessed a sense of humor. Randolph had stomped that out of her, too, along with her hopes, her youth, her passion. There was nothing amusing about hiring a man who specialized in erotic pleasures, while taking no joy from the act of lying with him.
And yet … it hadn’t been quite as unpleasant as she had expected. Unnerving, that. She had been prepared to grit her teeth and bear it, to disconnect her mind from her body long enough to endure his attentions. Regina’s strategy had been a good one, thought up to protect her from anything that would conjure unwanted memories of Randolph.
Dim lighting, layers of clothing between them, a restriction against unnecessary touching, a position that would allow her to open her eyes at any time and be reassured by a face that was not her dead husband’s.
However, it hadn’t worked quite as well as Regina had hoped. She had not expected him to insist that he could give her pleasure. Nor had she anticipated the gentleness with which he’d handled her, the slow and methodical attempt at ensuring she was ready to accept him into her body. Randolph hadn’t cared whether she wanted him, had never done more than flip up her nightdress and force his way into her.
Regina shuddered, recalling the touch of David’s long, slender fingers on her thighs, the press of his thumb against a part of her body that had set off sparks between her legs and pangs of …somethingdeep in her belly. No one had ever touched her that way, and she’d never realized her body was capable of such a response. Her cheeks flushed hot as she remembered the slick sounds of him stroking her, one finger plunging in and out of her channel.
His touch had produced the most befuddling sensations, as well as a most embarrassing phenomenon. As he’d stroked and touched her quim with efficient skill, Regina had becomewet.Was that what he had meant by claiming she wasn’t yet ready? She had to admit, the expected discomfort of his invasion into her body had been made easier by the slickness, which had increased with the friction of him moving in and out.
How very odd.
Regina still couldn’t understand any of it. Not his careful treatment of her, or the baffling war of sensations that had raged within her from the second he first touched her to the moment it had ended. The self-imposed isolation of mind from body had been shattered despite her best efforts, and the man on top of her had ceased being a mere vessel for her use. He’d becomeDavid.
When Regina closed her eyes, she saw him with uncanny detail—the moonlight glinting off his hair, illuminating the contours of his perfect, plush mouth, the intriguing ripple of his arms through his shirtsleeves, taut and strained from holding his weight over her. Biting her lip, she shook her head to blot out the echoes of the only sound he’d made, right at the end as his cock jerked inside her and spilled. The deep, throaty growl had taken her by surprise in its rawness and vulnerability. Regina had dared a glance, finding herself enraptured by the sight of him. Head tipped back, jaw wound tight, nostrils flared and eyes squeezed shut. She had been the most intrigued by the view of his jaw and chin, tilted at an angle she might not otherwise have viewed. The man was ridiculously beautiful, almost godlike, and yet the moment of his completion had brought him down to the mere plane of a mortal. It had exposed a part of him she would rather have not witnessed.
A soft rap on the door preceded Powell’s deep voice, muffled through the wood. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
She wanted to tell him to go away and leave her alone with her thoughts, but she knew Powell too well for that. The faithful servant wouldn’t go away until he was reassured.
