Jacquie ’Alessandro - Not Quite A Gentleman

When her breathing evened and she felt able to move, she lifted her head. And stared into his serious gold-flecked hazel eyes. Dear God, the way he’d made her feel… she’d read about a woman’s pleasure in the Ladies’ Guide, but the description in no way did justice to what she’d just experienced. And he’d given her that pleasure without even intimately touching her. What on earth would it be like if he had? How much more incredible could it be?

She felt a pressing need to say something, to acknowledge what had just happened to her, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of any words befitting the occasion. No doubt in a week or two she’d think of something brilliant, but right now all she could find to say was, “Nathan.”

His expression softened and the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Victoria.” He gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Are you all right?”

She briefly closed her eyes and released a long, feminine sigh. “I’m… marvelous. Except for my knees. I seem to have misplaced them.”

His grin flashed, then he brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No.” She rested her palm against his cheek. “You… dazzled me. Stole my breath.”

“As you stole mine. And dazzled me.” After dropping a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, he said, “I’ll get dressed so we can look for your knees.” He gently released her, and her upraised skirts unfurled like the curtain coming down after the opera. When he bent to retrieve his clothing, Victoria knew she should turn away to afford him some privacy, but she simply couldn’t tear her gaze from him. And surely she should feel some remorse, a flicker of shame, but all she felt was exhilaration. If she felt bad about anything, it was that this interlude was over.

As she watched him pull on his breeches, she couldn’t help but notice his still aroused state. Clearing her throat, she said, “You allowed me great freedom with your body.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“And mine as well.”

He shrugged into his shirt and smiled. “I’m glad.”

“You, um, didn’t take the same degree of liberties with me.”

“An effort that cost me greatly, I assure you.”

“May I ask why you… made such an effort?”

He halted in the act of fastening his shirt, and his gaze sharpened. “Are you asking me why I didn’t make love to you?”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “I’m wondering why you didn’t touch me as I touched you.”

“It’s the same question, because if I had touched you in that way, we absolutely would have made love.”

“And you didn’t want that.”

His brows shot up. “On the contrary, I believe it was painfully obvious that I did. Not making love to you was solely a result of me considering you, not myself.” Leaving his shirt flapping open, he erased the distance between them. Lightly clasping her upper arms, his gaze searched hers. “Victoria, surely you realize that if we were to make love, I risk nothing, whereas you risk everything. Regardless of what else you may think of me, I am not a man to simply take pleasure without thought to the consequences. And to be brutally blunt, the time to ponder such decisions is not when one is sexually aroused or basking in the afterglow of pleasure.” His fingers flexed on her arms. “Something happens to me when I touch you…” He shook his head. “… hell, something happens to me when I’m in the same room as you. You impair my control. My good judgment.”

A thrill ran through her at his admission. “There is no point in me denying that I suffer from the same ‘something’ as you.”

Any thought that her admission would please him vanished with the troubled look in his eyes. “Then there is much for you to consider. And it’s best that we return to the house now.”

Releasing her, he stepped away to finish dressing. With a start she realized that it had grown quite late, the shadows of the approaching dusk an obscuring gray under the dense cover of trees. She brushed the wrinkles from her gown and repaired as best she could the havoc his hands had wreaked on her hair. When they both finished, he extended his arm with a courtly flourish, indicating she should precede him on the narrow trail leading back to the main path. As she moved past him, however, he reached out and snagged her hand, raising it to his lips. Although the light kiss he brushed over the backs of her fingers could be described as proper, there was nothing proper about the wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Just so you know, Victoria,” he said, his warm breath caressing her skin, “regardless of what other decisions might be made, I fully intend to have my revenge for the sweet torture I endured this afternoon at your hands. And I shall have it when you least expect it.”

Whoosh. Good lord, she needed to carry a bucket of water about so as to douse the flames this man ignited. He started down the narrow path, clearly expecting her to follow, no easy task when he’d reduced both her mind and knees to porridge with his announcement. But the encroaching darkness snapped her from her stupor and she hurried after him. The trail veered, and as soon as she rounded the bend, she saw him standing in the path ahead, clearly waiting for her. Her gaze narrowed on his face and she moved forward. Humph. Obviously he thought he could just toss out provocative statements then saunter away. Well, she’d show him that-

“Victoria!”

Nathan’s shouted warning came just as she was grabbed from behind by a muscled arm that trapped her against a hard chest. She saw the silver glint of a knife just as the blade was pressed against her throat.

In her pursuit of intimate fulfillment and adventure, Today’s Modern Woman may find herself in a situation that could be deemed dangerous. In that case, she must remain calm and stay focused on her objective: extricating herself from said situation. If all attempts at diplomacy fail, a well-placed kick will usually do the trick.

A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of

Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment

by Charles Brightmore

“One sound, one movement out of you,” the man growled next to Victoria’s ear, “and you’ll seal your own fate.”

Terrified, she clamped her lips shut and ceased struggling, her gaze searching out Nathan.

Nathan started forward but skidded to a halt when the man jammed the knife tighter against her throat. His gaze flicked to hers and he shot her a look that clearly indicated she should listen to the madman with the knife.

“One more step and I’ll slit her ear to ear,” the man threatened in a tone that slithered dread down her spine.

“Let her go,” Nathan said in a frigid, steel-edged voice Victoria had never heard from him before.

“Happy to oblige ye, after I get what I want.”

“I’ll give whatever you want. After you let her go.”

“‘Fraid it don’t work like that, seein’ as how I’m the one holdin‘ the blade to her throat. Now, speakin’ of blades, I want ye to slip yours out of yer boot, real nice and slow, then toss it in the bushes. You make any fast moves, Doctor, and the lady’ll suffer.”

“You know who I am,” Nathan stated in a deadly voice.

“Who ye are and who ye were.” He jerked Victoria tighter against him. “Do as I said.”

Scarcely able to breathe with the blade pressed so tight against her throat, she watched Nathan, his gaze never shifting from the man’s face, slowly slip a knife from his boot, then toss it lightly toward the bushes. “Now let her go.”

“As soon as ye hand over the letter.”

“What letter?”

With the flick of his wrist the man nicked the skin beneath Victoria’s jaw and she gasped. Warm wetness trickled down her neck and black spots danced before her eyes at the realization that it was her own blood.

“Yer stupid question just gave the lady a scar. If ye ask another, it’ll cost her an ear. If ye claim ye don’t have what I want, she’ll lose her life. Understand?”

A brief pause, then Nathan said, “Yes.”

“I want the letter that was in the lady’s bag. Now. Hand it over, nice and slow, and I’ll be on my way.”

Dear God. She was going to die. Nathan didn’t have the letter here. She knew he’d try to save her, but what could he possibly do with no weapon and no letter? Her life was going to end. Here. Now. At the hands of this horrible man. Who would probably kill Nathan, too. Stark terror at the realization edged black around her vision.

“How do I know you’ll let her go once I give you what you want?”

“Guess ye’ll just have to take my word for it.” The evil chuckle next to her ear raised prickles all over her clammy skin. “Don’t worry, Doctor. My word’s as good as yours. Honor among thieves, you know.”

Drawing what was surely her last breath, she watched Nathan slowly reach down again, this time pulling a folded piece of ivory vellum from his boot. Shock trembled through her. The letter. He had it. Hope flooded her, pushing aside the fear that had momentarily crippled her.

But surely Nathan wouldn’t really give the letter, the map, to this brigand. Surely any second he would utilize some ingenious spy tactic to disarm and capture this thief. Instead, he slowly straightened and extended his arm, holding the note between his thumb and index fingers.

“Toss it,” her captor growled. “So it lands right nice near my feet. If it don’t, the lady will pay.”

The note sailed through the air. With her chin pointing nearly toward the sky, Victoria couldn’t see where the letter landed, but since her throat remained uncut, she assumed Nathan’s aim had been true.

“Now, on the ground, facedown,” the man ordered Nathan.

All right, any second now Nathan would employ one of his spy tricks to save them and disarm the man. She kept her gaze trained on his face, waiting for some sort of signal, some indication of what he wanted her to do, but his gaze never wavered from the man holding her. She watched, every nerve alert. Nathan lowered himself to the dirt path as instructed.

“Hands behind your head, Doctor.”

Nathan clasped his hands behind his head.

A fury unlike anything she’d ever before experienced erupted in Victoria. Damnation, he was going to get away with this!

“Now, little lady,” her captor said, his hot breath by her ear, “you’re going to walk over to the doctor and lie facedown with yer hands behind your head, just like him. Make a sound or do anything other than that and I’ll sink this blade right between yer shoulder blades. And the doctor will be next.”

She’d never felt so helpless or filled with rage in her life. She longed to scream, struggle, but she feared he’d carry out his threat. Raised up on her toes as she was, she had no leverage to even stomp on his foot. But something inside wouldn’t allow her to do nothing. Perhaps if she could shove the note out of the thief’s reach, it would give Nathan a chance to act. In a blind attempt to do so, she kicked her leg to the side.

But at that precise instant her captor released her, shoving her roughly away from him. She stumbled forward, her boot catching on the hem of her gown. With an involuntary cry, she pitched forward, falling hard on her knees, breaking her fall with her hands. She skidded forward, landing on her stomach with a jarring thud, knocking the breath from her lungs.

She’d barely realized what had happened when gentle hands grasped her shoulders and turned her over. She looked up into Nathan’s face, his expression stark with worry.

“Victoria,” he said in a low, urgent voice, his gaze riveting on her throat while he yanked off his shirt. She touched her fingers to the stinging spot and felt warm stickiness.

“I’m bleeding.”

“Yes, I know. I need to see how badly.”

“Where is-”

“He’s gone.”

“But he has-”

“Shhhh. It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry.”

“But you must-”

“Take care of you. Don’t talk. Just tilt your head this way a bit for me… that’s it.” She felt him wipe something soft… must have been his shirt… against her stinging throat. “The cut is small,” he said in a calm voice tinged with relief. “I’m going to apply pressure to it to stop the bleeding. Stay still and relax.”

She remained still, although how she was supposed to relax remained a mystery, and watched him fold over a section of his shirt, which he gently but firmly pressed to the skin beneath her jaw. Holding the material in place with one hand, he turned his attention to the rest of her, examining the scrapes on her palms, then lifting her skirt to gently probe her sore knees. He then ran his hand over her, pressing here and there, asking if this or that hurt. This was an aspect of him she’d never seen-his professional side. His touch was that of a doctor seeing to a patient-tender, skillful and impersonal.