Sterling Family - A Perfect Groom Part 18

He held her as she rocked against him, feeling her pain, her bitterness. He knew her stubborn pride would never have allowed her to expose herself to him otherwise. He'd just been given a glimpse into a part of her he'd never dreamed existed, a vulnerable part she hid deep within herself.

He ached inside. He ached in a way that had never happened before. "Listen to me, Arabella. You're beautiful. Yes, you're different. But don't you see, that's the attraction. That's why when you walk into a room, there's scarcely a man who can take his eyes off you. You're like a brilliant, exotic flower."

Her head was nestled into the notch between his neck and his shoulder. "Don't say things you don't mean."

Her contrariness made him want to smile. Even now, she argued with him. But that was a part of what drew him to her. But at least she'd stopped crying.

One corner of his mouth turned up. He dropped a brief kiss on her brow. "Sweetheart, rest a.s.sured, I am not a man to say things to a lady that I don't mean."

"For pity's sake," she grumbled, "stop calling me sweet -" All at once she pressed her fingertips to her lips. "I don't feel very well." She lurched from his arms to her knees beside the bed.

Justin was beside her in a heartbeat.

By now she lay sprawled on the floor. "I think I'm going to be sick!" She raised stricken eyes to his.

"No, you're not," he said firmly. "Just take a long, deep breath and don't even think about it, much less say it*That's the way, sweetheart. A few more, just like that*" After a few moments, he ran a finger down her cheek. "How are you feeling now?" he murmured. "Can you rise?"

Her eyes widened in alarm. Vehemently she shook her head, still a little green. Justin s.h.i.+fted, propped his back against the bed, and eased her head into his lap.

Arabella winced. "My head hurts," she moaned.

"It's all these d.a.m.ned pins." One by one, he removed the pins from her coiffure, dropping them in a pile by his side. When the last one slid from its berth, he threaded his fingers through the heavy ma.s.s, gently sifting the silken strands away from her scalp, the movement soothing and monotonous.

"Better?" he murmured.

"Yes. Thank you." She lay against him listlessly. Her lips barely moved.

His belly tightened as he looked down. Her hair was incredibly long and soft, spilling over his legs and onto the floor, a glorious waterfall of gleaming red strands. Against his will, against all his better judgment, he felt his rod stiffen and swell. Desire struck, swift and merciless, an arrow in the loins. It seemed his body had a mind of its own. He held his breath when she s.h.i.+fted her head. Her brow furrowed, and she settled her cheek at the very top of one hard thigh. Sweet Jesus, now her mouth was perilously near the head of his*She sighed. Even through his trousers, he fancied he could feel her breath, warm and*He drew a shaky breath. With every second, he could feel himself pulsing*pulsing in time to his heart. Oh, Christ. Christ. This was altogether more temptation than he could handle.

"Arabella. Arabella, I need to get you into bed." It slipped out unwittingly. He suppressed a groan.

"No. I don't want to, Justin. I can't move."

"We must, Arabella. It would hardly do for me to be caught in your room come morning, now, would it? Here, I'll help you."

"Everything's spinning."

"I know, sweet. I've much experience in these things, remember?"

"Yes, I suppose you do, don't you? Will it go away soon?"

"Yes," he lied. She'd never remember, he was certain.

She was limp as a wet rag, but he managed to get her on her feet. He made brisk work of the b.u.t.tons on the back of her gown and unlaced her corset, dropping both in a heap at her feet. She stood before him, clad only in her s.h.i.+ft.

"I need my nightgown," she fretted.

"No, sweet, you don't. You can sleep as you are just this one night." He'd tested his willpower as far as he could*or so he was convinced.

He turned her in his arms. The s.h.i.+ft she wore was no real barrier at all; she might just as well have been naked. Behind her, the candlelight glowed, revealing the lushly erotic outline of her body in stark relief. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were round as melons, deliciously full. The disks of her nipples thrust against the sheer silk, plump and dark. He wanted to rip away that d.a.m.ned s.h.i.+ft and bare her completely. He wanted to curl his tongue around and around her nipples, knowing she would taste like warm honey. Unable to resist, his gaze swept the length of her. He wondered vaguely if the dusky triangle between the juncture of her thighs was as red and curly as her hair.

"Come," he said brusquely. "Into bed with you." He lifted her onto the mattress, whisked away her slippers and stockings, and drew the sheet up over her.

She immediately thrust it down to her waist. "I'm hot," she complained. "And it feels strange without my nightgown."

"You'll get used to it, Arabella. It's just for this one night."

"I won't," she pouted. "Wouldn't you feel strange going to bed without your nights.h.i.+rt?"

"I don't sleep in a nights.h.i.+rt."

"What do you sleep in, then?"

"Nothing."

Her eyes rounded. She gaped. "What?" she said faintly. "You mean you

sleep*naked?" She said it as if it were a curse.

"Yes, dear," he said blandly. "I sleep naked."

"Oh! That's wicked, Justin."

He wanted to laugh at her censure. Somehow he couldn't.

Instead he sucked in a painful breath. He'd never put a woman to bed chastely in his life, yet he

just had. Oh, but wouldn't the bucks of the ton hoot if they knew!It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to battle the heated rush that sizzled in his loins. Neverbefore had he been so achingly aware of one woman. Never had he wanted a woman the way he wanted this one - the one woman he couldn't have! Was that the allure? Was it simply that she was the one woman who resisted him?

"Justin?"

"What, sweetheart?"

"You said you wouldn't tell anyone about McElroy. You won't, will you?"

"Of course not."

"You didn't promise."

He sighed. She was babbling, yet completely adorable. "I promise," he said gravely.

"And Walter. You never promised you wouldn't tell anyone he proposed."

"I promise now. I won't tell anyone about Walter."

Slender brows met in a frown. "How can I be sure I can trust you?" she asked

suspiciously. "I probably shouldn't, you know. One should never trust a rogue."

"You're right, Arabella. You probably shouldn't. But I swear, I'll keep your secrets."

That appeared to satisfy her. She leaned back on the pillows. He took her hand, idly toying with her

fingertips. Soon her eyes began to close, but suddenly they popped open.

"You asked me why," she said suddenly.

"Why* what?"

"The night of the masquerade. You asked me why I disliked you."

Justin went very still inside. "Why do you dislike me?" G.o.d, it almost hurt to say it aloud.

"It was Emmaline Winslow."

"Emmaline Winslow?" He was stymied. Who the devil was Emmaline Winslow?

Her head bobbed up and down. "That day at the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Carrington's

country estate*when I crawled under your chair and stabbed you with my pin. I - I heard thetwo of you in the house. You told her there were other women just as fetching as she. Indeed, you said,she was but one pearl among many and you intended to sample them all! You made her cry, Justin. Youwere so callous! You walked away and - and left her crying."

Comprehension dawned in a flash. For one paralyzing instant, Justin couldn't move. His mind

hurtled back. He suddenly understood so very much.

"But I don't dislike you anymore," she confided earnestly. Her gaze scoured his face. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," he said hoa.r.s.ely. For the life of him, it was all he could say.

"Good. Will you stay until I sleep?"

He nodded, watching as she weaved her fingers through his, closed her eyes, and brought their joined

hands to rest on her belly.

He stared until his eyes grew dry and the moon was high in the sky. And all the while, a hundred differentfeelings crashed around in his chest.Something was changing between them. Everything was changing. He didn't know what it was.

And he didn't like not knowing, not one d.a.m.n bit.

But he couldn't stop it.

And that terrified him. It terrified him, as nothing or no one else had ever frightened him before.

Eleven.

It was late when Arabella woke the next morning. Sunlight poured through the draperies. With a groan she heaved to her side, seeking to evade the light. Even through her closed eyelids, it seemed to burn. Her mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with muslin. Her throat was dry as the sands of the Sahara. Her head was pounding as if a blacksmith had taken up permanent residence in her brain. She wanted to drag her pillow over her head and go back to sleep. But something naggingly insistent wouldn't allow it.

s.n.a.t.c.hes of memory sifted back. McElroy. Justin's appearance in the study. The rest was vague. She recalled sitting at the window, a finely cut crystal gla.s.s in her hand*

Oh, Lord, that's why she felt so horrid. Never again, Arabella vowed, would she indulge in spirits so strong. Indeed, never again would she indulge in any kind of spirits.

Just then there was a knock on the door.

"Come in." The words came out a hoa.r.s.e croak.

It was Aunt Grace, bright-eyed and chirpy. "Good morning, Arabella," she sang out.

"I brought a pot of chocolate and some pastries for breakfast." Grace deposited a tray on the bedside table, then sat on the bed. "How are you this morning?"

Arabella rolled over and pushed herself up, dredging up a wan smile. "Fine," she murmured.

"You don't look fine. You look quite dreadful." Grace handed her a delicate china cup. "I'm sorry you're feeling so poorly, love. Perhaps it was something you ate."

Oh, if she only knew*

"Unfortunately, you weren't the only one to take sick. Patrick McElroy had to depart quite suddenly, too. Perhaps it was the same malady."

McElroy! Just the thought of him made her sizzle again. Aloud she said, "I'm sorry to have missed the festivities."

Aunt Grace patted her hand. "Well, the important thing is for you to get better. Just rest, dear, and perhaps by this evening you'll be well enough to join us for dinner."