“Oh, my lord,” she moaned.
“Do you want me?” he asked huskily.
“Aye, my lord. I want you.” Joy arched her hips.
Beau added another finger, stretching her. “Are you begging me?”
“Aye. Yes. I want you. Please!”
Beau ripped the buttons from his trousers, sending them plunking across the wood floor. He freed his aching arousal and plunged it into her, taking her maidenhead with more force than he had intended. She screamed from the pain, but the pleasure he felt overpowered his concern for her.
“Oh,” he groaned. “Oh my God. Joy. Joy!” He shuddered as he climaxed, spilling himself into her, welcoming the release of his seed.
He collapsed onto the bed and rolled off of her, too exhausted to move.
Joy remained silent for several moments. Then, “My lord?”
He turned to look at her beautiful face flushed like a ripe raspberry. “Yes?”
“I… May I go now?”
“No, don’
t go.” Beau took her delicate hand and lightly brushed his lips over. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t… It will be better for you the next time. I’ll make sure of it.”
She smiled. “Aye, I know, my lord.”
But a next time never came. When Beau came home from Oxford on holiday, Joy was gone.
Chapter One
Laurel Ridge, Lybrook Estate, Wiltshire County, England
Wedding Ball for the Duke and Duchess of Lybrook, 1853
Cameron Price downed his fourth glass of champagne and cursed the day he’d ever laid eyes on Lady Rose Jameson. Watching her waltz with Lord Evan Xavier for the fifth time this evening was more than he could stomach
When the Duke of Lybrook had approached him six weeks earlier to compose a wedding waltz for his bride, Cameron had no choice but to take the commission. His family, tenants on the Lybrook estate, needed the money badly, and the sum of two hundred pounds also offered him the opportunity to hire a man to work his family’s farm so he could devote more time to his music.
The duke had insisted that he work closely with Lady Rose, a talented pianist, while composing the waltz, so she would be adequately prepared to play it at the wedding. The many hours of sitting next to her at the piano, working out measures and harmonies, their elbows grazing as her fingers danced across the keys… He’d nursed many a cockstand afterward. Fighting his attraction to her had become a loathsome burden, a constant duel between his head and his heart. Her sapphire eyes haunted him. Even in slumber he found no peace. Rose’s beautiful visage tormented him in his dreams.
No one played as Rose did. She made the pianoforte sing, giving Cameron’s music a power and seductiveness it didn’t otherwise possess. The waltz had been well received tonight, but he had no doubt that Rose’s interpretation, not his talent as a composer, had made the difference.
Watching her now, in the arms of Xavier, who was courting her, felt like a punch in the gut.
No.
More like a stampede of heavy-hoofed stallions trampling him.
Xavier had been an oarsman at Weston and was consequently a big man, tall and blond with friendly brown eyes and a pleasantly handsome face. Surely a perfect match for the quietly virtuous Rose.
Cameron disliked him on principle.
Cam had bedded his share of females in the past, but never before had he felt such an intense attraction to a woman as he did for Rose. He ached inside. She was meant for parties and high teas, silk gowns and diamonds. He had nothing to offer her.
He set his champagne glass down on the refreshment table and walked out of the ballroom.
“You’re not leaving yet, are you, Mr. Price?”