The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne by Natasha Blackthorne Page A
Authors: Natasha Blackthorne
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need him now. I cannot think past that now.
That was selfish. It was weak.
But she was tired. Tired from spending a lifetime being good. She didn’t have anything left inside to give anyone. Not one speck of goodness.
Yet, maybe she was being too shortsighted. If it turned out that he wanted her longer than she needed to recover, perhaps she could be strong then. Perhaps she could be a good mistress to him.
Never his wife.
She couldn’t take the guilt of a man’s disappointment in her. Not again. And even more distressing, Dr. Meeker had made plain that her hysteria affected much more than just her emotional state. It also affected her womb. It gave her horribly painful courses. It would also prevent her from conceiving a child.
But what if James had a misguided sense of honor about that? Duty and honor and strength, these were the principles that made him the man he was.
Well, she’d make him understand just how unsuitable a wife she would be.
If you cannot be good, then at you can be honest.
Yes, that was the answer. She would make it clear from the start, exactly who and what she was and that she understood and would hold no blame against him.
But first things first, how to make him care for her? To want her for a mistress in the short term.
He was her choice. Her first decision based on true choice in years.
The prospect filled her with excitement. And hope.
Her eyes had grown so heavy and her mouth was getting drier by the moment. The laudanum was taking effect more quickly now. She closed her eyes.
****
Sunny stood by James’ bed, listening to the distant chime of the clock in the vestibule.
One single chime.
Soft snores issued from between his parted, sensual lips. Despite the late hour, he still wore a shirt and trousers. His collar lay open.
She picked up the hem of her nightdress and pulled it up, over her head, then tossed it aside. Cool air made gooseflesh erupt all over her. Tightened her nipples. She shivered then noticed a bottle on the night table. She picked it up and sniffed it. Whisky.
She hated whisky. But her mouth and throat were so hellishly dry. She put the bottle to her lips and took a drink, coughing and sputtering then shuddering as the burn of liquor spread through her. The fire was thrilling. Stimulating. Forbidden to her. She took another drink. And another. When the bottle was drained, she replaced it on the night table. The bottle teetered and she caught it. The chamber seemed to tilt and turn.
She closed her eyes and licked her lips, waiting for the giddiness to ease. But it wasn’t passing too quickly, so she sat on his bed. Though the bed rocked, he made no sign that he’d noticed.
She considered the way he lay in the bed, as though he had flung himself there. She frowned. What cause had he to drink himself to sleep? Was he troubled by something?
What could possibly affect a Rock of Gibraltar that much?
He groaned softly in his sleep.
She smoothed the hair off his forehead, lingering a moment over the surprisingly silky texture of the inky black strands.
She slid her hand down the crisp linen shirt, down to the bare, hard flatness of his abdomen.
Chapter Four
Once again, James moaned in his sleep. Sunny lay beside him and leaned close to his face. He snored softly between slightly parted lips and the scent of whisky and musky male sweat overwhelmed her.
She placed her mouth on his. His lips were soft yet firm. She pressed her lips to his more passionately. The lack of response sent a wave of frustration through her. She slid her hand down the cool linen of his shirt, down to where the shirt ended. The warmth of his flesh, the hardness of his muscled stomach, the line of coarse hair, it all set her pulses pounding.
She slid her hand further down, down, down, edging beneath the waistband of his trousers, searching until her fingers met the coarser, prickling hair and then the smooth warmth of his cock.
She caught her breath.
His erection swelled
That was selfish. It was weak.
But she was tired. Tired from spending a lifetime being good. She didn’t have anything left inside to give anyone. Not one speck of goodness.
Yet, maybe she was being too shortsighted. If it turned out that he wanted her longer than she needed to recover, perhaps she could be strong then. Perhaps she could be a good mistress to him.
Never his wife.
She couldn’t take the guilt of a man’s disappointment in her. Not again. And even more distressing, Dr. Meeker had made plain that her hysteria affected much more than just her emotional state. It also affected her womb. It gave her horribly painful courses. It would also prevent her from conceiving a child.
But what if James had a misguided sense of honor about that? Duty and honor and strength, these were the principles that made him the man he was.
Well, she’d make him understand just how unsuitable a wife she would be.
If you cannot be good, then at you can be honest.
Yes, that was the answer. She would make it clear from the start, exactly who and what she was and that she understood and would hold no blame against him.
But first things first, how to make him care for her? To want her for a mistress in the short term.
He was her choice. Her first decision based on true choice in years.
The prospect filled her with excitement. And hope.
Her eyes had grown so heavy and her mouth was getting drier by the moment. The laudanum was taking effect more quickly now. She closed her eyes.
****
Sunny stood by James’ bed, listening to the distant chime of the clock in the vestibule.
One single chime.
Soft snores issued from between his parted, sensual lips. Despite the late hour, he still wore a shirt and trousers. His collar lay open.
She picked up the hem of her nightdress and pulled it up, over her head, then tossed it aside. Cool air made gooseflesh erupt all over her. Tightened her nipples. She shivered then noticed a bottle on the night table. She picked it up and sniffed it. Whisky.
She hated whisky. But her mouth and throat were so hellishly dry. She put the bottle to her lips and took a drink, coughing and sputtering then shuddering as the burn of liquor spread through her. The fire was thrilling. Stimulating. Forbidden to her. She took another drink. And another. When the bottle was drained, she replaced it on the night table. The bottle teetered and she caught it. The chamber seemed to tilt and turn.
She closed her eyes and licked her lips, waiting for the giddiness to ease. But it wasn’t passing too quickly, so she sat on his bed. Though the bed rocked, he made no sign that he’d noticed.
She considered the way he lay in the bed, as though he had flung himself there. She frowned. What cause had he to drink himself to sleep? Was he troubled by something?
What could possibly affect a Rock of Gibraltar that much?
He groaned softly in his sleep.
She smoothed the hair off his forehead, lingering a moment over the surprisingly silky texture of the inky black strands.
She slid her hand down the crisp linen shirt, down to the bare, hard flatness of his abdomen.
Chapter Four
Once again, James moaned in his sleep. Sunny lay beside him and leaned close to his face. He snored softly between slightly parted lips and the scent of whisky and musky male sweat overwhelmed her.
She placed her mouth on his. His lips were soft yet firm. She pressed her lips to his more passionately. The lack of response sent a wave of frustration through her. She slid her hand down the cool linen of his shirt, down to where the shirt ended. The warmth of his flesh, the hardness of his muscled stomach, the line of coarse hair, it all set her pulses pounding.
She slid her hand further down, down, down, edging beneath the waistband of his trousers, searching until her fingers met the coarser, prickling hair and then the smooth warmth of his cock.
She caught her breath.
His erection swelled
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