Marissa Day Read Online Free Page B

his astonishing green eyes and her heart constricted at what she saw; a quiet pleasure that mixed with a dark intensity. She knew that look from her dreams. It was desire.
    “Thank you.” Without taking his gaze from hers, Sir Thomas bent and touched his lips to her fingers. Jane clamped her mouth closed around a sigh.
    “Now, Lady Jane,” he lifted his head. A subtle change came over his manner, lending him an air of command that had so far been lacking. “Let us speak of these dreams.”
    Jane would not have believed she had any blushes left. But Sir Thomas’s gaze lingered on her cheeks, letting her know she colored crimson once more, and he smiled. The expression brought a dangerous and breathtaking light to his eyes.
    “Would I be right in thinking they are dreams of love?” he murmured.
    His fingers thrust into her slit, stroking her, demanding she surrender to the pleasure he brought. His cock pressed hard and rigid against her ass while she writhed and cried out . . .
    She dropped her gaze to her fan. Jane had no real experience with flirtation. She did not know how to speak of love to a man, much less to hint at the kinds of desires her dreams had brought. She had been married young to Lord Octavius DeWitte, at her father’s urging. Octavius was a steady man, but he had not wanted a companion for his heart. She was to be housekeeper and hostess, and provide an heir if that could be managed. During the five years of their marriage, he praised her competence and level-headed management of the house. He’d given her anything she asked for, but never teased her, much less tempted.
    Fingers traced feather soft down her cheek. Sir Thomas’s touch was as instantly familiar as his person had been. It ignited sparks against her skin and sent them tumbling down to her breasts, her thighs and her tightening center.
    “You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “Any man seeing you would dream of love.”
    “But you are not the one who dreams, sir.” The words emerged in a low and husky voice, quite unlike her own.
    Sir Thomas let his fingertips linger a moment on her jawline. “And yet, Lady Jane, you do not tell me I am too bold.”
    Tell him he was too bold? Impossible. It was all Jane could do not to lean into his hand and rub her cheek against his warm palm. The cool night wind carried his scent to her, a mixture of leather, brandy and spices that worked its way into her blood and her brain, wreaking havoc upon what little reason remained to her.
    “It is impossible.” Tears pricked her eyes as she took his hand and lifted it away.
    “No, it is not.” His fingers curled around hers, preventing her from pulling her hand back.
    “I have a position to maintain, sir. I am not free as others are.” It was monstrously unfair. The whole court was at liberty. The wealthy widows—the wealthy wives —flaunted entire trains of lovers in every public setting. But depleted of money and family, utterly dependent on the good opinion of her mistress, Jane was condemned to remain as alone as any unmarried girl.
    Sir Thomas pressed her hand gently, urging her to look at him. But Jane knew if she did, she would be utterly and finally lost. She kept her gaze fixed on the gardens and the winking torches that burned so brightly in the distance. The sound of women’s laughter reached her and she winced to hear it.
    “Listen to me, Jane.” Sir Thomas pressed her hand once more. “If I have but one thing from you, all others will become possible.”
    “What might that be?” She’d meant those to be bitter, jesting words, but they sounded only of despair.
    “Give me your assent,” said Sir Thomas calmly. “Say yes, and I will be with you this night, and any other time you desire me.”
    She stared at him. He met her gaze and returned it, completely unperturbed.
    “It is impossible,” she repeated.
    That only brought a smile from him. “More impossible than that you should dream of me before we ever met? More