Read Online Manor of Pleasure: An Erotic Historical Romance by Debra Sheridan - Free Book Online
Authors: Debra Sheridan
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pillows. Her dark hair was tied back by a length of red ribbon. The pale pink of her cheeks had returned and her lips were cherry red.
It was quite obvious that she was waiting to see him and she had attended to some preparation for his visit. He could not tell if that was a good sign or a bad omen.
She nodded and smiled. "I'm better, Desmond. Thank you." She patted her hand on the bed. "Please come and sit."
Desmond's stomach was in knots. He went and sat down on the edge of her bed. Neither of them spoke. She reached out slowly and grabbed his hand. She pulled it toward her and began to lightly caress his fingers. She laced his fingers with hers and looked up.
"How are you?" she asked him softly.
He still could not fathom her intention. "Well, that depends," he answered.
"On what?" Her voice was quiet.
He pulled his hand away. "Rebecca, don't play with me. Yesterday, you asked me to break with you. And now you ask me how I am?" He stood up and paced across the room. He stared out the window. "What can you be thinking?" He shook his head.
Rebecca didn't speak.
He continued with an increasing degree of bewilderment. "We have shared things, done things to each other that only the most intimate lovers do. Does that not mean anything to you?” Desmond turned to face her. His eyes were dark, accusatory. "Do you want to me to end our engagement? Do you really?"
Rebecca's eyes welled up. "Don't be angry with me, Desmond, please."
He approached her, uttering, "I tell you this, Rebecca. I will not end it. If you want me to leave and leave forever, I will but you must tell me that is what you want. I will do as you ask." He turned from her and waited.
She spoke resolutely in hushed tones. "Desmond, once my story is published, I will be a pariah. You must ask yourself if you can live with that. Can you see yourself married to an outcast…a whore? Who knows what people will say about me, about you?"
"I see myself married to you." Desmond turned to face her. "What others may say means nothing to me. I know who you are. And I know who I am."
Rebecca rose from her bed and went to him.
"Then you must know this…that you are the very air that I breathe. Do you think I said those things lightly yesterday as if they meant nothing? I feel as if my soul had been ripped out from my very core." She turned away from him in an effort to hide her tears.
Desmond grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. His manner was intense and focused. "Then you must never say such things to me again. Do not even think them. Do you understand me?"
He let her go and dropped his arms to his side. He turned and sat down on the settee by the fire. He lowered his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair.
He looked up. "Come here," he commanded softly.
He held out his hand. She went to him and sat down. "So, are we agreed?" Desmond asked.
Rebecca nodded wordlessly. She swallowed.
"You must say the words, Rebecca," Desmond urged. "You must promise."
He cradled her cheek in his right hand and lowered his lips to her mouth. He was poised to kiss her.
"I promise," she whispered.
"Go on," said Desmond, waiting. He scrutinized her hair, her eyes, her neck. He felt like an addict after the longest driest spell and she was his vice. His longing for her already consumed him.
Rebecca started again, "I promise never to say…" He kissed her lightly on the lips. "…or think…” He kissed her cheek. "…such things again." He kissed her neck and lingered there.
"Ever," Desmond whispered against her throat. "Ever," she repeated, breathlessly, her eyes closed.
"All right then." Desmond murmured in her ear.
His lips traveled back to her throat while his hand wandered slowly to her breast. As he squeezed her firm round flesh, he could feel her nipple stiffen against his palm through the thin cotton fabric of her nightdress.
"Desmond, no…" she whispered, panting softly. "Nora will be here soon." Desmond stopped and looked
It was quite obvious that she was waiting to see him and she had attended to some preparation for his visit. He could not tell if that was a good sign or a bad omen.
She nodded and smiled. "I'm better, Desmond. Thank you." She patted her hand on the bed. "Please come and sit."
Desmond's stomach was in knots. He went and sat down on the edge of her bed. Neither of them spoke. She reached out slowly and grabbed his hand. She pulled it toward her and began to lightly caress his fingers. She laced his fingers with hers and looked up.
"How are you?" she asked him softly.
He still could not fathom her intention. "Well, that depends," he answered.
"On what?" Her voice was quiet.
He pulled his hand away. "Rebecca, don't play with me. Yesterday, you asked me to break with you. And now you ask me how I am?" He stood up and paced across the room. He stared out the window. "What can you be thinking?" He shook his head.
Rebecca didn't speak.
He continued with an increasing degree of bewilderment. "We have shared things, done things to each other that only the most intimate lovers do. Does that not mean anything to you?” Desmond turned to face her. His eyes were dark, accusatory. "Do you want to me to end our engagement? Do you really?"
Rebecca's eyes welled up. "Don't be angry with me, Desmond, please."
He approached her, uttering, "I tell you this, Rebecca. I will not end it. If you want me to leave and leave forever, I will but you must tell me that is what you want. I will do as you ask." He turned from her and waited.
She spoke resolutely in hushed tones. "Desmond, once my story is published, I will be a pariah. You must ask yourself if you can live with that. Can you see yourself married to an outcast…a whore? Who knows what people will say about me, about you?"
"I see myself married to you." Desmond turned to face her. "What others may say means nothing to me. I know who you are. And I know who I am."
Rebecca rose from her bed and went to him.
"Then you must know this…that you are the very air that I breathe. Do you think I said those things lightly yesterday as if they meant nothing? I feel as if my soul had been ripped out from my very core." She turned away from him in an effort to hide her tears.
Desmond grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. His manner was intense and focused. "Then you must never say such things to me again. Do not even think them. Do you understand me?"
He let her go and dropped his arms to his side. He turned and sat down on the settee by the fire. He lowered his head into his hands and ran his fingers through his hair.
He looked up. "Come here," he commanded softly.
He held out his hand. She went to him and sat down. "So, are we agreed?" Desmond asked.
Rebecca nodded wordlessly. She swallowed.
"You must say the words, Rebecca," Desmond urged. "You must promise."
He cradled her cheek in his right hand and lowered his lips to her mouth. He was poised to kiss her.
"I promise," she whispered.
"Go on," said Desmond, waiting. He scrutinized her hair, her eyes, her neck. He felt like an addict after the longest driest spell and she was his vice. His longing for her already consumed him.
Rebecca started again, "I promise never to say…" He kissed her lightly on the lips. "…or think…” He kissed her cheek. "…such things again." He kissed her neck and lingered there.
"Ever," Desmond whispered against her throat. "Ever," she repeated, breathlessly, her eyes closed.
"All right then." Desmond murmured in her ear.
His lips traveled back to her throat while his hand wandered slowly to her breast. As he squeezed her firm round flesh, he could feel her nipple stiffen against his palm through the thin cotton fabric of her nightdress.
"Desmond, no…" she whispered, panting softly. "Nora will be here soon." Desmond stopped and looked
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