Lady Lovett's Little Dilemma Read Online Free

not, could not, refuse, she knew. Her own lustful nature would take over and she’d be a slave to passion, as in the early years of her marriage. How many times had she passed around cucumber sandwiches at her Thursday morning salon while her mind replayed the thrilling amorous adventures to which Justin had introduced her the night before? Oh yes, during the day she was the perfect hostess but in the dark, beneath the sheets of the marital bed, her husband knew how to bring her to wicked rapture. The intensity of her response to him frightened her.
    Sometimes she’d even wished for more, with the candle still throwing its light, so she could see what Justin looked like in all his naked splendour.
    Very occasionally, at the height of passion, he’d latch on to her nipple with his hot, wet mouth and she’d feel the pulsing desire in the core of her womb and want him to continue to pleasure her like this, here and everywhere.
    But that was before the children came, and such lust was for those who spared no thought for the consequences of their pleasures.
    Cressida clamped down on her moan of desire and despair. Justin held the trump card. If she let him begin to stroke her into awareness, she knew she’d never want it to stop and she doubted she’d have the strength to withdraw before it became dangerous.
    No, she couldn’t tonight, no matter how much she desired it. Another child would kill her, yet Justin wanted another son. Young Thomas was sickly and Cressida’s most important role was to give Justin heirs. If she couldn’t do that, she was no better than an insipid little shepherdess playing dress-ups. She could respond with soft murmurs indicating her delight in bed but she did not have the words to tell him she’d not give him more sons.
    Cressida seized the advantage at his hesitation. Justin was not a man to press his unwanted advances upon her. Clasping him briefly before pushing out of his arms, she made for the door where, turning, she was surprised to see how much her brief, affectionate embrace had disarmed him.
    He remained in the centre of her dressing room, fiddling with his cufflinks, his concentration seemingly focused on the tiny diamond studs at his wrists. When he straightened and smiled at her, her armour was not fully in place against the hurt in his eyes. It pierced her with a sharpness and intensity nearly as agonising as childbirth, forcing her to turn away before she acted against her better judgement.
    Self-disgust surged up her gullet as she grasped the doorknob. So much for acting on her desperation to reclaim what they’d once had. Her shame that she was pushing him away from her was almost equal to her shame at realising that her actions confirmed she had chosen to accept the price. With no satisfaction in the marital bed, what other course was there for a red-blooded male?
    “Sleep well, Cressida.” There was such genuine fondness in his expression as he prepared to leave her that she nearly abandoned her resolve by throwing herself recklessly into his arms.
    “You too, Justin.”
    He was nearly gone when she stopped him. Her throat was dry but she had to know his plans for the rest of this evening, though couched in such a way that no invitation could be forthcoming if perchance he was going straight to bed.
    “Will you join me for breakfast?” she asked, smiling her false, bright smile.
    “If you wish it.” By contrast he was no longer smiling. “However, I feel restless. I know I shan’t sleep.” Indeed, he did look distracted—and little wonder—his gaze fixed on a point somewhere near the window. “I think perhaps I’ll return to White’s. Roddy Johnson was still there when I left and had, I think, plans for a night on the town.”
    Only when she was safely in the nursery and satisfied that little Thomas was sleeping peacefully did Cressida return to her chamber and give vent to her feelings. Sinking back down upon the stool in front of her dressing table she