Ethan: Lord of Scandals

Fifteen

When he joined Alice and the boys at dinner, Ethan looked a little tired, but pleased to see his children. The boys must have sensed their father’s fatigue, because they were subdued—for them—as well. Alice herded them up to bed then occupied herself with duty letters to her siblings Reese, Priscilla, and Leah.

A soft tap on her door had her glancing up, expecting to see Clara with some laundry or fresh wash water.

“You’re sending off the monthly epistles?” Ethan kept his hands in his pockets as he peered over her shoulder. “Have you heard much from your brother Benjamin lately?”

“I have not, which isn’t so unusual. I think your brother is keeping him busy, among others.”

“He is. I’ve been meaning to tell you Nick has reason to suspect I’m legitimate, in the legal sense.” He studied her mundane correspondence as if it were a complicated column of figures.

“Does this matter to you?”

“It does.” Ethan sat on the bed, facing her. “Though not in the sense you think. It matters because Nick is afraid we’re not related, or he was. Seems my mother was married to some soldier, about whom she neglected to tell the earl when she went larking about with her betters.”

“Maybe she thought her soldier was dead.” Alice watched as he pulled off a boot. “It doesn’t change who you are.”

“So I told my fretful little brother.” Ethan smiled at her, his expression tinged with an odd tenderness. “And it really doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

He was determined of late on ascertaining her opinion on every irrelevant detail.

“Of course not, except it impacts upon you. What are you doing, Ethan Grey?”

“Getting comfortable.” He pulled his second boot off and set them beside the bed. “And don’t look at me as if you’ve never seen me comfortable before.”

“I thought you said tomorrow night…” She trailed off as he shucked out of his breeches and smalls, then pulled his shirt right over his head.

“I did say I’d come to you tomorrow night.” Ethan pulled back the covers then ambled around to stand behind Alice. “And I will, but there’s somewhere I’d like to take you tonight, if you’ll allow it.”

“Dressed like that?” Alice closed her eyes when she felt his fingers at the hooks of her dress.

“One gets there most easily in just this attire.” Ethan bent to kiss her nape. “Besides, I love the way you look at me when I’m naked.”

And she loved to look upon him, but this, this complete nudity in a well-lit room was more than just a pushing aside of clothes by moonlight. “I suppose you want me that way too?” Alice bent forward so he could reach the rest of her hooks.

“Say it.” He leaned down near her ear. “Ethan wants me naked.”

“Ethan wants me to blush myself silly.”

“We’ll blow out the candles,” he said as he started on her laces, “if you really don’t want to see me as God made me.”

“You as God made you is one thing.” Alice struggled for reason when Ethan drew her to her feet. “Me as God made me is another.” And where on earth was she to affix her gaze?

“Another.” Ethan drew her dress over her head. “Another entirely glorious thing.”

“Ethan…” She stood barefoot, in shift and loosened stays, knowing he was looking at her.

He waited until she found the courage to glance at him. “This is part of it, this simple, mundane sort of trust. I want to see you, just as you wanted to see me. I like the sight of you. I want to have pictures of you in my head, to appreciate and treasure. We can do this in the dark, if you like, but I’d really rather you let me see you, even if it’s just this once.”

“I do like looking at you,” Alice said, letting her gaze travel the muscular expanse of his chest, down past his flat stomach, his groin, his legs, and over every lean, sculpted inch of him. She nodded at his erection. “Does that inconvenience you?”

“Mightily,” Ethan said with a slight smile. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

“You’ll have to do this. I haven’t the nerve.”

“You’re just shy.” Ethan’s smile broadened, blinding her with its warmth. “Hold still.” He untied her tapes and bows and had her naked as Eve in less than a minute, her braid swinging freely down her back.

“God in heaven, you are lovely, Alexandra. How could you be shy about sharing this?” He walked around her, as if she were some treasure from antiquity, a marble goddess come to life at Tydings. “I feel sorry for Mr. Durbeyfield, I’ll say that much.”

“Can we please, please, get under the covers?”

“There is no place on earth I would rather be than naked under the covers with you,” Ethan replied with an odd gravity. Alice didn’t wait to decipher his mood. She hopped under the sheet, ignoring the view she gave Ethan of her backside. The mattress dipped as Ethan’s greater weight joined her, and then he was over her, balanced on his forearms.

“Ethan?”

“That would be me.” He kissed her cheek. “And you are the lovely Miss Portman. Attend me, Miss Portman, for I’ve a lesson to impart, and you’re the kind who appreciates learning.”

She brushed his hair back. “You are ridiculous, Mr. Grey.”

“Disrespect will be punished,” Ethan informed her sternly. “Seriously, I want you to heed me.”

“I’m listening, Ethan.” How could she not listen when he was naked, lying on top of her, all warm and lean and touchable?

“I’ve asked you before to be honest with me. It’s more important than ever with what we undertake now.”

“I know. I will not play you false, Ethan. I hope you know that.”

“I do know it, and you have the same promise from me, but this is a different kind of honesty. You have to tell me if I’m asking too much, if I’m going too fast, if I’m hurting you.”

She gently pushed his head to her shoulder. “Hush. Enough talk. Tell me what I must do to please you in this bed.”

He angled back up, her meager strength nothing compared to his determination. “Promise, first. You’ll tell me if you don’t like something, if you’re the least bit uncomfortable with it.”

“I promise. Now stop fretting. I took off my clothes for you, sir, and not so you could lecture me to sleep.”

“Wench.” Ethan nuzzled her ear, which tickled, mostly. “Now you’re going to talk to me.”

“Oh, more talk.” Alice huffed, then squeaked with alarm when Ethan shifted off of her. “Where are you going?”

“To a better listening post,” Ethan said, tucking her against his side. “Think back, Alexandra, to all the times we’ve been affectionate, and tell me what touches you enjoyed the most.”

“That is a ridiculous question,” Alice scoffed, hiking her leg across his thighs—how bold he’d made her. How wonderfully bold. “I like it all, every bit of it, which makes me wanton, I suppose.” What a lovely notion. She was proud of herself to consider it.

He hiked her leg a bit higher and drew patterns on her knee with one finger. “It makes you passionate and open-minded. But what do you like the best?”

“It isn’t so simple to choose. Your kisses are exciting and wicked and wonderful, but the way you use your hands on me…”

“Yes?” That one finger on her knee was a case in point, bespelling her with a tactile pleasure she would never have guessed a knee might feel.

“You know where to touch, Ethan.” She sighed mightily, for this recitation wasn’t in any governess manual. “And no matter where you touch, it brings me pleasure.”

Alice’s words lodged in his soul, because Ethan knew—he knew without asking, without questioning, she didn’t mean simply his erotic touch. She liked it when he tapped her nose with his finger in the middle of some argument, when their hands brushed over the teapot at breakfast, when he pulled rank on his sons and assisted her to a seat.

To her, he was not dirty, shameful, second-rate, or anything less than deserving of her caring and respect. He could not have joined her in this bed had she thought him in any way unworthy.

And yet, direct questions were getting him nowhere on his stated agenda of the evening.

“Do you like it when I rub your back?”

“I adore it. If you want to make me purr like a cat, you put those big hands of yours on my back, Ethan Grey.”

“Easy enough,” Ethan said, rolling her to her side. He glanced at his hands, pleased for once at their size. He spent the next few minutes honestly rubbing her back, and she spent those minutes sighing and wiggling and sighing some more. When she’d had her fun, he let his hand trail down lower, over her buttocks.

Which earned him more sighing.

So he shifted around, to explore her breasts, and while she went still at first, she was soon arching into his hand, covering his knuckles with her palms.

“You like this?” He gently tugged at a nipple while ruthlessly ignoring his own arousal.

“Oh, that is naughty. Don’t stop.”

“Naughty” and “don’t stop” were a compelling combination. Ethan eased her over to her back then replaced his fingers with his mouth.

“Ethan.” It was a groan, a plea for mercy and a plea for more. Alice’s hands winnowed through his hair to hold him to her, and her back arched in offering. Ethan felt her body slipping free of its restraints, even as his own was clamoring to join with her.

Slowly, so slowly it nigh killed him, he let one hand drift down her sternum, over her ribs and belly, to the curls shielding her sex.

“Spread your legs for me, Alexandra.” Ethan spoke in a near whisper, savoring every syllable of her true name and every inch of her silky skin. “Let me touch you.” She complied, restlessly lifting one knee to turn her hips toward him.

“Patience,” Ethan chided, fastening his mouth over her other nipple.

“Ethan.” Her voice was a little raspy and more than a little urgent. “This isn’t comfortable.”

He raised his head to consider her expression. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” She sounded sure of that. “But you can’t expect me to enjoy being so… overwrought.”

“I can.” Overwrought was a mere beginning. He left his hand where it was, his fingers drifting over her mons. “Give me a little more time.”

“Kiss me.” She glared at him, clarifying that this was an order, not a request.

“Of course.”

He treated her to a voracious kiss, not like anything he’d given her before. He consumed her, challenged her, teased and demanded and had her mouth clinging to his, even as her hands tried to map every inch of him. She found his nipples, sending a bolt of arousal straight south through his body. She found his buttocks and made him groan with the pleasure of being pulled close where she wanted him close. She kissed him back, to make demands of her own, only to fall utterly still when Ethan caressed her sex with two reverent fingers.

“Oh, holy saints, Ethan…”

He whispered his fingers across damp, intimate flesh.

“What are you doing?” Alice asked, circling his wrist with her fingers.

“Pleasing you, I hope.” He leaned in to kiss her, a soft, voluptuous distraction from the lust raging through him, then shifted to take a nipple in his mouth.

“Ethan, I can’t…” Her chest was rising and falling, but she said nothing more, just panted her desperation.

“Move, love. Move against my hand the way I’ve moved to your touch. Move the way your body wants to. Move toward the pleasure.”

She undulated against his hand, taking long moments to find synchrony with his rhythm, and then she still didn’t seem to know how to go on. Ethan realized she’d never trod this path before and was ignorant of the destination—another reason to shoot the leek-loving Mr. Droopyfield on sight.

Ethan slowed his hand, letting her catch her breath, then abruptly shifted to a fast, light stroke.

“Let it happen.” Ethan’s voice was urgent as he felt the sensations welling in her body. “Let yourself go. Come for me.”

She arched into his hand, hard, repeatedly. She called his name, she dug her fingernails into his wrist, and she didn’t stop until her breath was a harsh rasp and her body was a warm, replete bundle of naked womanhood against his side.

“That’s my lady.” Ethan’s arms came around her, and she clung with surprising strength. His hands stroked slowly over her back, her arms, her shoulders, until Alice’s breathing slowed.

“What was that?” She sounded bewildered, and a touch disgruntled, no doubt out of sorts to think some parcel of knowledge had been kept from her ken.

“I hope it was pleasure.” For him, it had been nothing but pleasure, far eclipsing the lust still throbbing in his body.

“Is that what you feel?” Alice tucked her nose against his throat. “When you…”

“When you bring me off?” Ethan finished for her. He could feel her blushing against his neck. “Probably, or something very like it.” Except he could do it only once, while she could repeat the pleasure endlessly. He wouldn’t inflict that knowledge on her just yet, not when she seemed almost upset by her experience.

“I feel empty,” Alice said on a shuddery sigh. “It was pleasurable, Ethan, profoundly, but now…”

His hold tightened around her protectively. “Now?”

“I feel lonely and worried,” she said. “Like I could have trouble breathing if I let myself. That can’t be normal.” He wrapped his arms around her and cuddled her snugly to his body, offering her comfort, reassurance, and a different kind of pleasure in the secure warmth of his embrace.

“Better?” he asked a few minutes later.

“Better.” She nodded, burrowing against his chest. “So is this what Nick shared with half the demimonde?”

He let her change the subject but felt a spike of exasperation that Nick—dear, bedamned Nick—should join them in the bed.

“Not quite. Physically, perhaps something similar, but emotionally, Nick would not have joined with someone capable of admitting the loneliness.”

So there, Nicholas.

“He’d want a woman to lie?”

“I think the point of the kind of dalliances Nick sought was for everybody to lie, to pretend such matters could be undertaken only superficially.”

“God above.” Alice paused in an exploration of his collarbone with her tongue. “What a lot of poppycock. I’ve never done anything so intimate and lovely and overwhelming in my life. I could not abide the thought of sharing such a thing with a near stranger.”

And that is a large part of why I love you.

“I thought I could. I was wrong.” That he could say so to her was another part.

He held her to him, treasuring the feel of her naked body in his arms, until Alice levered up and speared him with a look.

“I want you in my mouth.”

“I beg your pardon?” She was already shifting up and across him, intent on her goal. She curled up at his side, her cheek resting low on his belly.

“No sass from you, Ethan Grey. We have talked about this, and I have kissed you here.” She took his erect cock in her hand. “Fair is fair. There’s such a lot of room in this bed, too, we shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

Ethan didn’t even have time to be thankful he’d bathed earlier, before Alice’s lips were closing over him.

His hand tangled in her hair. “You don’t have to do this. It isn’t a ledger account, to keep balance or score.”

“Hush,” she admonished, gently cupping his testicles.

They had discussed this on one of Alice’s scholarly tours of his body; they’d discussed it as something beyond naughty, and moved on to less fraught topics.

“Naughty” and “don’t stop” collided again in Ethan’s mind as Alice gained confidence in her welcome. She explored him carefully and thoroughly, and tried different touches and approaches, until she found the combination that had Ethan’s hips slowly undulating.

“Sweetheart”—Ethan’s voice was urgent—“I’m close… Too close.”

She sealed her mouth around him and sent him past too close to that realm where reason and restraint were dim memories. His body bowed up, and she plied him with ruthless devotion until he was panting and spent, his only movement the caress of his hand in her hair.

“Everlasting… powers.” Ethan wanted to gather her up, to tug her back over him, like a blanket, like a comforting lemony blessing, but he was simply incapable. Alice remained where she was, nuzzling his parts as she cradled him in her hand.

“Easy,” Ethan cautioned. “I’m… sensitive. No sudden moves, please.”

Alice shifted, sitting up and reaching for the glass of water on the night table. “I was sensitive too. I wanted to cry.”

He smiled at her admission, misdirected though it was. She offered him the glass when she’d had her fill, and he took it, pleased at the small sharing. When she set the glass aside, she tucked herself against him without him having to ask, and his gratitude for that assumption—that they would want to hold each other—nearly did make him cry.

“So this was my warning shot?” Alice asked, her hand once again finding his flaccid penis. She held him gently, though not in a casual way either.

“In what sense?” Ethan liked that she touched him this way, loved it, in fact. There was reassurance in the gesture of insecurities he hadn’t known he still had.

“Tomorrow night, you’ll come to me again, and it will happen all over, but we’ll be… joined.”

“I pray to God that’s so. Having second thoughts?”

Alice gave his cock an admonitory little tug. “Hush with that question, or I’ll make you stand in the corner.”

“But you’ll spank me first, won’t you? I’ve been very naughty.”

“You are the furthest thing from naughty, but I think you’d like this spanking, wouldn’t you?”

“Any touch from you would be to my liking.”

She climbed over him, and while he missed the feel of her fingers around his cock, Ethan enjoyed the press of her breasts against his chest.

“Don’t be shy.” He caressed her bottom, shaped the smooth, warm female wonder of her. “Cuddle up.”

“I’m not…” Alice frowned against his chest. “I’m untidy.”

“You want a handkerchief? Or would you instead let me feel this luscious untidiness that follows when a woman is well pleased in bed?” He patted her bottom again, a more businesslike affection that urged her down against him.

“Naughty, naughty, naughty.” Alice sighed, easing her hips down. Ethan bumped up, letting her feel the softening mass of his penis against her damp sex. A body kiss, a cozy, intimate kiss of parts that made Ethan ridiculously happy.

“With you, I’m the friendly sort,” he said, sweeping her braid down her back. “And I like to feel you near me.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Alice said, stifling a yawn. “I don’t mean to be rude, but my eyes are heavy.”

“Go to sleep, love.” Ethan kissed her temple. “I’ll be gone by morning, but back tomorrow night.”

“I shouldn’t,” Alice protested as Ethan felt her lashes sweep a butterfly kiss to his chest.

“You should. Sleep in my arms, Alexandra, and dream of me, for I will certainly dream of you.”

While she drifted into the arms of Morpheus, he was a long time holding her and considering what it meant to love a woman for the first time in more than thirty years on earth. He’d wanted to love his wife, tried to talk himself into believing lust and initial infatuation could mature to something more. He’d wanted to fall in love, to find someone to whom he could entrust his heart, his future, his children.

Well, he had the children, and now he had a woman to treasure and cherish and intimately appreciate. It was enough; it was more than he’d hoped to have when he’d consigned himself to marrying Barbara—so much more—and it was enough.

Alice awoke the next morning to see her curtains whipping in a damp breeze. The overcast that had rolled in during the night had let her sleep later than usual, so she hurried through her morning toilette, until a slight sensitivity in her private parts had her blushing and recalling the events of the previous evening.

Ye gods, ye gods… so that was sexual pleasure? That was the great prize given to the married and the naughty unmarried?

She couldn’t imagine sharing so intimately with any other man, and with that insight, she gained some understanding of Ethan’s claim that he could not make love with her unless desire was mutual. She did not want just the glorious sensations, she wanted Ethan. She wanted his arms around her, his voice in her ear, his scent on her skin, his hands stroking her flesh.

She wanted his confidences, his dreams, his hopes, and his rare playful gambits. She wanted his headaches, his extended family in Kent, and his stubborn determination to get her back up on a horse. She wanted not just his lovely body, but his entire heart.

Oh, dear.

Alice collapsed onto the bed and considered what it meant, when she longed for a man to trust her with his heart. This could not be a good thing, not when the man was a confirmed widower who’d endured one miserable marriage for the sake of his children. Not when he was so wealthy the Regent turned to him for financial advice.

Not when he’d been so carefully honest with her, assuring her he was beyond ever remarrying.

Oh, dear. Oh, God. She’d fallen in love with Ethan Grey, and where did that leave her—besides looking forward to the coming night?

Alice had always thought love could only come to her slowly, a gradual shift in emotions from respect to affection to the kind of abiding regard her parents had had. She had never expected this tumult, this drama of the emotions, would befall her.

There was no fighting it. Her feelings were subject to neither reason nor logic, and all she could hope for was to keep her sentiments behind her teeth, where she would not embarrass Ethan with them.

Or herself.

So they would make love tonight, and in the privacy of her heart, Alice would love Ethan too. When he tired of her, her heart would break, but she’d be prepared for that. Her idea of heartbreak had shifted, though.

Heartbreak was no longer a vague, bothersome sense that she’d be unhappy for a while. Heartbreak was worse and better, she decided as she pinned up her hair. When Ethan set her aside, she’d be devastated at the loss of him, but she’d also be richer for having shared with him what lovers shared, even temporarily. It would be enough. It was more than she’d thought life would offer her, and it would be enough.