Susan Johnson - Again and Again

“Why did you do it?”

“Lord knows; it was a long time ago.”

“I tore the city apart looking for you.”

“Because you don’t like to lose.”

He grimaced. “Maybe… or maybe I needed you.”

“You never need anyone for long, Simon. I was just more practical than you.” Her brows rose in derision. “Surely you’re not going to tell me you’ve pined for me in my absence.”

He didn’t answer for a moment and she said, “There. You see? Consider what would have happened if we had married five years ago. You would have been unfaithful within a fortnight; we would have quarreled incessantly and both of us would have been abjectly miserable.”

“Maybe.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Fortunately we didn’t marry on such wavering ambiguity.”

“And yet your marriage failed.”

“Louvois found a rich woman.”

The umbrage vanished from his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It turned out for the best. She was French like Louvois and I discovered in my travels on the Continent that I was more English than I thought. I was pleased to return home.”

“Did he leave you funds?” Aware of Caroline’s family background, Simon’s concern was genuine.

“I’m managing very well, thank you.”

“Should you ever be in need…”

“I’m not-really.”

“You’re sure?” He took in her unfashionable gown, her lack of jewelry, and recalled her red cape that had been out of style these many years.

“I’m sure. You have no need to care for me.”

“But I may wish to.”

“Sorry, Simon. You relinquished that opportunity years ago.”

“I was mistaken,” he said softly.

She made a small moue and waved her hand in the direction of the wine. “Pour us both another glass and desist from talking nonsense. I’m not some young ingénue you can charm. I know you too well. And I’m not the same woman you were acquainted with five years ago. Let’s simply enjoy a convivial evening and forgo any undue sentiment. I find of late, I prefer less emotion in my life.”

His gaze held hers for a penetrating moment and then he grinned. “So shall we just get drunk?”

“I’m not sure a lady is allowed to actually reach that vulgar state,” she murmured archly, “but I’d be in favor of enjoying another glass or two and seeing if I can still beat you at piquet.”

“You never beat me.”

They’d played since childhood and as her father’s daughter, she had a rare talent for cards. “Do recall who taught whom, my dear Simon.”

Although he was older by three years, she’d been a child prodigy. “I believe I may have overtaken you, darling Caro. I’ve had considerable practice these past years.”

“Do you think I haven’t?”

His gaze narrowed. “Have you fleeced all the unsuspecting men on the Continent?”

“On occasion.” A sudden bleakness touched her eyes, quickly replaced by a brilliant smile. “One must survive after all.”

“I warn you, darling.” Amusement colored his voice. “I’m far from unsuspecting.”

“Good. I prefer a challenge.”

“Just so,” he said softly.

“Not that kind of challenge, Simon. Acquit me of your habits.”

He laughed. “So you’ve given up sex?”

“For the moment”

“Perhaps I could change your mind.”

She shook her head. “Not a chance, darling,” your reputation precedes you. Once burnt, et cetera, et cetera…“ she said brightly. ”Now shall we say a guinea a point?“

“A guinea it is. And should you lose?”

“I shan’t lose.” She couldn’t. She only had five guineas to her name.

And she didn’t.

Despite the fact that they played far into the night, her talent was fascinating to observe even for a man who prided himself on his expertise at the tables. He never lost by much, but she managed to always have the edge and he gave her high marks for improvement since he’d last seen her.

“What happened to your money,” he said, several hours later as she gathered the last of his guineas into the pile before her.

She didn’t pretend not to understand. “He took it”

“I should call him out.”

“He’s not worth your time. Are we done playing?”

“You cleaned me out tonight, Caro, darling. If you’ll take a chit, we can continue.”

“I’m not sure you truly lost or let me win.”

“I’m not that generous. You won. And need I say, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you. Now if only Papa could have drunk less, his talent for cards wouldn’t have gone to ruin along with his estates.” Sighing, she pushed away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m suddenly very tired. Hopefully there’s still a room available for me.”

“First door at the top of the stairs.”

A flicker of suspicion illuminated her gaze and then she said, “Thank you again,” in a tone of politesse that could have been used to address a stranger.

“I won’t bother you.”

“I know you won’t. I intend to lock my door.” She stood, gathered her winnings and slipped them into her reticule. 1 enjoyed the evening, Simon. Very much.“ Her voice this time was warm. ”I’d forgotten…“ Her words trailed off and she smiled like she had so many times in the past

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

She nodded and walked away.

He watched her in her outmoded gown that failed to diminish her glorious allure, her beauty still capable of silencing a room and he recalled nights in the past when she’d not walked away from him. An auburn curl, come loose from her coiffure, lay on the plain blue serge of her shoulder and he wished that he could tuck it behind her ear like he had so many times before. It took enormous effort to restrain himself, to remain seated as she exited the room.

The sound of the door softly shutting should have put period to his restless desires. Any man of conscience would adhere to a lady’s wishes.

And he did for the time it took to drink another bottle.

She was sleeping, but she heard the key turning in the lock as if she’d been waiting for it. As the door quietly opened and closed, she sat up in the large curtained bed in the fire-lit room. “You must have wakened the housekeeper for the key,” she said to the man leaning against the door.

“She didn’t mind.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“I thought I’d find out.”

“You haven’t changed.”

Who did? he thought, but he was on his best behavior. “Do you like the applewood fire? I told the housekeeper applewood was a requirement.”

“Thank you. Now, are we going to pretend you’re not here for all the obvious reasons? Are we going to discuss the weather too?”

“I thought we did that rather thoroughly at dinner.” His smile flashed white in the dimness. “But if you wish…”

“What I wish apparently makes no difference to you. I expressly said I’d be locking my door.”

“If you want me to leave, tell me.”

“I’m not sure you’d leave even if I wished it.”

“I see.” Neutral, noncommittal; a man who had no intention of leaving.

“No, you don’t Your focus, as usual-as always-is only on what you want,” she said sharply.

“I don’t want to fight.” He didn’t say he had no answer to such a blanket condemnation. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

His voice was deep and low, velvety with suggestion. Whether consciously or unconsciously, he was offering her what he offered every woman. And that was the crux of her dilemma. Whether she wished to requalify as one of his legion of lovers. She frowned. “How many times have you offered a woman carte blanche?”

“Lord, Caro, you’re prickly. Never. All right?”

“Liar.”

He shrugged. “Twice, then. How’s that?”

Or pick a number, she thought, half-rankled, half-enticed-and unfortunately-wavering. She wished he didn’t look the way he looked: too handsome, too available, too sure of himself.

And she wished she didn’t feel the way she did… hungry for him, or maybe for any handsome man offering her what he was offering.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Caro,” he murmured as the silence lengthened. “Tell me what you want.”

Problematic, dangerous words. She took a small breath, opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Was he sincere? Maybe. Did it matter? “I haven’t had sex in a year,” she blurted out.

“Really,” he said, quelling his shock beneath the mildness of his tone. “A year.” He hadn’t had sex in forty-eight hours, but it might be counterproductive to mention it now. That’s a very long time,“ he said politely.

She couldn’t help but smile, not only at his tact but at his nonchalance. “So as long as you’re here, you’re thinking.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You have no idea what I’m thinking.”

“Well, I’m thinking I might as well make use of you.” There. No more flustered uncertainty.

His teeth gleamed perfect and white. “At your service, ma’am.” He pushed away from the door.

She laughed. “So compliant, Simon. I hardly recognize you.”

He slid his dark jacket off and tossed it on a chair. “After five long years, darling, I’m more than willing to be conciliatory… or as you put it-used.” His voice lowered to a silky murmur. “What would you like first?”

Perhaps a year really had been too long. Perhaps she’d always been rash with Simon. Or maybe now that she’d crossed that irrevocable line, there was no point in pretending. “What I would like,” she murmured, echoing his silky intonation,“ is no preliminaries and that,” she pointed at his obvious erection, “inside me.”

He grinned. “Talk about people not changing.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not if it isn’t for you.”

A small warning perhaps. She leaned back against the pillows, spread her arms along the cushiony tops and slowly surveyed him. “It definitely isn’t at the moment”

“Because you haven’t had sex for a year,” he murmured, thinking her breasts were splendid, thrust out like that with her arms raised.