Season Of Secrets. Кэрол Мортимер
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her request that he be the one to teach Amanda to ride.
He took a steadying breath. ‘I believe you take delight in misunderstanding me!’
She raised dark brows. ‘I assure you, I take no delight at all in imagining you—or, indeed, anyone else—whipping an innocent beast of any kind.’
‘I merely said—’ Adam rose to his feet once again to round the desk with a sudden burst of frustrated energy before grasping her by the slenderness of her shoulders and shaking her slightly to emphasise his next words. ‘I have never been a party to whipping a woman, man, nor beast, damn it!’
‘I am glad to hear it.’ Her voice had softened huskily.
Bringing Adam to an awareness of the fact that he still had hold of her by the shoulders, that he could feel the delicacy of her bones through the thin material of her black gown, the soft pads of his thumbs actually touching the silky softness of the flesh just above the ivory swell of her breasts…
And it was very silky skin, so soft and smooth as Adam lowered his gaze to watch as he gave in to the temptation to run the pads of his thumbs caressingly over that delectable flesh, his hands appearing dark and very big against that delicate and unblemished ivory.
Standing this close to Elena, he could once again smell lemons, and something lightly floral, the top of her dark head barely reaching his shoulders, her figure slender in any case, but appearing more so when measured against his own height and breadth. Even the firm swell of her breasts, above the scooped neckline of her gown, was delicately tempting rather than voluptuous.
Damn it, he should have stayed seated behind his desk, safely removed from that temptation! Should never have—His gaze became riveted on the full pout of Elena’s mouth as she ran the moist tip of her tongue nervously across her lips whilst looking up at him from between silky dark lashes.
‘My lord…?’
Adam drew in a deep, controlling breath even as he closed his eyes in an effort not to look at those now moist lips. Moist and utterly kissable lips. ‘Do not—Elena…!’ he groaned huskily in defeat as he opened his eyes and saw she had now caught her bottom lip between tiny, pearly-white teeth.
Her eyes widened slightly, those long, dark lashes framing those blue-green orbs, her throat moving when she swallowed as Adam slowly began to draw her closer towards him. ‘My lord…?’ she whispered again.
‘Adam,’ he encouraged gruffly.
Elena would have protested his request for such informality—if he had not chosen that moment to draw her closer still before lowering his head and she felt the gentle, intimate touch of his lips against the curve of her throat.
Surprisingly warm and sensuous lips, considering how cold and abrupt this man so often was. Instead of the fear and recoil that she might have been expected to feel, after Neville’s harsh treatment of her, Elena relaxed into the safety of Adam Hawthorne’s arms, safe in the knowledge that he was not a man to ever use force on any woman.
It was at once a surprise and yet the most thrilling experience of her lifetime, to be held by and touching Adam so intimately, and to feel the warmth of his breath heating her flesh, even as his lips tasted and caressed the slender column of her throat, the gentle bite of his teeth on her earlobe causing her to tremble as her breath hitched in her throat.
Her breasts became full, the tips full and sensitive, as those warm lips trailed along the line of her jaw before finally claiming her parted mouth in a deep and searching kiss that caused the heat to course through her, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, settling at that secret, intimate place between her thighs. Elena’s head was swirling, thought impossible, denial even more so as Adam’s hands moved down from her shoulders to encircle her waist as he crushed her against him, his lips even more fiercely demanding against her own.
Then, just as suddenly, his mouth was wrenched away as he put her firmly apart from him before releasing her. Elena stumbled slightly as she attempted to regain her balance on legs that seemed to have all the substance of jelly, her lips feeling bruised and swollen, her cheeks flushed, breasts full and aching inside the bodice of her gown.
Elena blinked several times as she attempted to focus on Adam, only to step back in alarm as she found herself looking into the hard grey chips of ice that were his eyes.
‘That was a mistake on more levels than I care to contemplate,’ he rasped harshly, his face all sharp and disapproving angles, the tousled darkness of his hair the only indication that moments ago this man had kissed her, as Elena had kissed him back, and her fingers had become passionately entangled in his thick raven locks.
‘A mistake…?’ She felt a sharp tightening in her chest almost akin to pain, knowing that she felt the opposite, that kissing Adam had been the most wonderful of pleasures, more delicious than she had ever dared to hope a kiss ever could be. A kiss so unlike the ones her cousin had forced upon her—
No!
There were some things Elena could not—would not think about.
‘On so many, many levels,’ Adam repeated grimly as he saw the way in which her face had paled.
No doubt in reaction to the realisation that her employer had just kissed her with an intimacy and passion totally unacceptable to her, or the disparity in their social positions. Not that the raging of his libido cared one way or the other about that, but Adam must!
‘For which you have my heartfelt apology,’ he added, mortified with himself. ‘I do not know—it was not my intention—it will not happen again,’ he vowed.
At least, Adam would do what he could to ensure that it did not happen again! In truth, he was not sure how it had happened a first time…
There had been perhaps a dozen or so women in his life since Fanny died, women he had spent a few hours of intimacy with and never seen again. Beautiful as Elena might be, for him to have stepped over that line, for him to not only have felt desire for one of his own servants, but to have acted upon it, was totally unacceptable to him. Quite how he was going to feel, to react to her, once she had ceased wearing these unbecoming gowns, he dare not think. With decency and restraint, it was to be hoped. But—
‘You were about to say something earlier as I began to leave the room…?’
Adam scowled as he tried to remember what she was referring to, his mind and body both still dominated by only one thought: his desire for her.
Ah, yes…‘I believe I was about to suggest that a riding habit might also be a useful addition to your wardrobe.’
Her eyes widened dubiously. ‘A riding habit, my lord?’
His jaw tightened. ‘Yes. Perhaps in turquoise or blue?’ he found himself adding—before instantly castigating himself for caring what the colour of her riding habit should be.
‘Very well, my lord.’ She looked at him for several seconds longer, before giving a brief curtsy. ‘If you will excuse me, I must return to the schoolroom.’
‘And the seamstress.’
‘Indeed.’ She did not look at him again before leaving.
Adam frowned darkly once Elena had departed his study, knowing that he had made life decidedly uncomfortable for himself just now.
The throbbing ache in his groin spoke of his obvious physical discomfort, but it was the inner dissatisfaction, with his own completely uncharacteristic behaviour of making love to a female servant in his own household, and Elena’s reaction to it once she had found the time and privacy in which to reflect, which caused Adam to continue to soundly castigate himself.
Elena might choose to believe that he did not take enough of an interest in his daughter or her life, but Adam knew enough to know that Amanda had been happier in recent weeks, more contented, since the advent of her new governess into her life.
His unacceptable behaviour just now might have put that in jeopardy if, on reflection, Elena