Jacquie ’Alessandro - Confessions at Midnight

She had to swallow twice to locate her voice. "Samuel is fortunate to have found you."

"Actually, I am the fortunate one." He hesitated, as if debating whether to continue, then finally said, "Before he came to work for me, my life had become… unfulfilling. Samuel's charitable endeavors have given me something worthwhile and productive to do. Helping him makes me feel useful. And has brought home the cold, stark reality of the over whelming number of animals-and people-in desperate need of help."

She nodded slowly, soaking in words she never would have attributed to him. A fissure of shame rippled through her at the realization of how deeply she'd obviously misjudged him. "When you say your life had become unfulfilling, what do you mean?"

"I felt a mounting, frustrating sense of restlessness. Boredom. Emptiness. And really, more that anything, uselessness."

"But what of the earldom? Your properties?"

"That doesn't require as much of my time as you might think. I have an excellent steward who keep things running so smoothly I'm barely needed. My households are flawlessly run. I could go away for months and not a ripple would occur on the calm water of my earldom." Carolyn noted his eyes were filled with shadows, and wished she knew the cause of them.

Then he flashed a quick smile. "Gets rather tiresome, not being needed. Thanks to Samuel and the animals, I'm feeling a great deal less of that."

"You are very fortunate, my lord. I've suffered from feelings similar to those you described. Unlike you however, I haven't yet found an activity or cause to alleviate the emptiness." She rarely discussed such things with anyone other than Sarah, yet before she could stop herself, she found herself saying, "I've discovered it's very difficult to go from being needed on a daily basis to not being needed at all."

He straighten his slouched position and shook his lead. "You are mistaken. Your sister, your friends, hey need you and care for you deeply. I've seen it every time we're all together."

"I know that, of course. However, Emily and Julianne have their own families, and now Sarah is married."

"And you're wondering exactly where you fit in." Her gaze searched his. "You sound as if you know tow that feels."

"Most likely because I do. Precisely. And although I realize you've had to make difficult adjustments I wouldn't wish on anyone, I still find myself envious of the fact that for at least a period of time you felt needed every day."

His words, the sadness lurking in his eyes, rendered her speechless. Before she could even think of a reply, he blinked several times, as if coming out of a trance. A rueful smile curved his lips. "Egad, pardon me for allowing the conversation to turn so… maudlin."

As she wasn't certain how to tell him that she actualy found his unguarded words fascinating, she instead forced a light tone and asked, "You'd prefer to discuss the weather?"

"Actually, no. That isn't what I'd prefer at all."

"Oh? And what is your preference?"

Her breath caught at the heated look that flared in his eyes. His gaze wandered slowly down her form, lingering for several seconds on her ankles before traveling back up. By the time their gazes once again met, his eyes glittered with a combination of heat and mischievous intent that rendered her barely able to pull any air into her lungs.

He reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over the back of her hand. "I would like, very much, to see your tree climbing scar."

Carolyn blinked. Out of all the possible things he could have preferred, such as a kiss-and after that teasing touch to her hand and the simmering heat in his eyes, which seemed like such promising precursors to a kiss-what he wanted most was to see her scar?

Damnation. How could she have thought him charming and intelligent when clearly "irritating" and "nincompoop" were far more apt descriptions? Before she could even think up a reply to his request, he lowered himself to one knee in front of her and his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her gown to lightly grasp her left ankle. Warmth raced up her leg, and even as her mind commanded her to move away from his touch, her body refused to obey.

"Is it on this ankle?" he asked, setting her left foot on his upraised knee. He removed her shoe and gently massaged her instep.

A soft gasp escaped her, then she pressed her lips together to contain the moan of delight that threatened to escape at the delicious kneading. Pleasure skittered up her leg, settling low in her belly.

Dear God, she adored having her feet rubbed. And he was so good at it. And it had been so long since she'd felt such exquisite bliss. His caress was going to melt her spine. She'd wilt into a boneless, quivering mass of ecstasy then slither right onto the tiles.

"This ankle?" he repeated.

Not trusting her voice, she merely shook her head.

"Ah, the right ankle, then." But instead of releasing her left foot, his hands slowly moved upward, over her calf, never ceasing their delicious rubbing. Her fingers clutched the brocade cushion as she struggled not to squirm in delight.

When he reached her knee, she watched in shocked, wordless wonder as he slipped off her ribbon garter then slowly rolled down her stocking. The whisper of silk sliding over her flesh tingled heated tremors through her, but they faded to insignificance at the incredible sensation of his hands against her bare skin. After he set aside her stocking, he slowly pushed her gown and petticoat up to her knees.

Her bare toes curled against his muscular thigh. The sight of him on one knee before her, his dark head bent to study what he'd just uncovered, shivered an illicit thrill through her the likes of which she'd never experienced.

"Such lovely, creamy skin," he murmured, his fingers skimming lightly up and down her calf. "So soft. So smooth."

He lifted his head. The heat in his gaze seared her. Trapped in the inferno, she watched him lift her foot and press his mouth to her instep.

Another gasp escaped her, this one followed by a low moan she couldn't contain.

"You're correct." His warm breath whispered over her foot, eliciting a barrage of quivers that tickled over her every nerve ending.

"C-Correct?" she managed, sounding as breathless as she felt.

"There is no scar on this ankle. It is, in fact, the most perfect ankle I've ever seen."

The realization that he'd most assuredly seen plenty of female ankles should have appalled her. Instead she could only take in the breath-stealing reality that he was seeing-and caressing-her ankle.

He then kissed his way up her shin. Another shiver of delight trembled through her. After reaching her knee, he set her foot gently on the floor and a groan of protest rose in her throat at the loss. Before she could give it voice, however, he lifted her right foot and afforded it the same sensual treatment he'd lavished on the left. The only sounds in the conservatory were the rustle of material as he pushed up her gown, then slid off her stocking, and her own shallow, rapid breaths.

"Ah, I see the culprit," he murmured, setting the stocking on top of the other one. He minutely examined the inch-long bit of puckered skin just above her anklebone.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, brushing his fingers over the mark.

She'd barely felt the cut, but as she was incapable of stringing together that many words, she merely whispered one syllable. "No."

"'Tis almost necessary that you have such a minor flaw. Otherwise you'd be absolutely, frighteningly perfect." He studied the scar for several more seconds, then heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I'm afraid this minuscule mark doesn't count and you are absolutely perfect."

She licked her lips. "I assure you, I'm nothing of the kind."

"And I assure you, you are underestimating yourself."

He brought her foot to his mouth-his lovely, sensual mouth-but instead of kissing her there, he lightly traced his tongue over the imperfection.

A startled "Oh!" escaped her. His eyes darkened at the sound, and he repeated the gesture. What little of her spine remained seemed to evaporate.

"So beautiful," he whispered against her ankle. His hands skimmed slowly upward, caressing her skin, pushing her skirts higher. The heat of his palms touched her through the thin muslin of her drawers.

His mouth followed the same upward trail his hands forged, lightly nipping, kissing. Over her shin, her knees… how was it she'd never known that the skin behind her knees was so very sensitive?

An insistent pulse throbbed between her thighs. Her feminine folds felt slick and swollen and heavy. When he urged her legs apart, she didn't resist, and he insinuated his broad shoulders between her knees. The small part of her mind that wasn't lost in the heated fog of stunning arousal tried to interject, warn her that this was not the path she wished to go down, but that small bit was quickly overruled as sensation swamped her.

While his mouth continued its leisurely journey along her inner thigh, one of his hands strayed upward and found the opening in her drawers.

She gasped at the first touch of his fingers against her folds, a sound that tapered off into a long, vaporous sigh of pleasure as he teased her sensitive flesh with a wickedly light, circular motion. Helpless to resist the lure of such tempting pleasure, her head fell limply against the padded back of the settee and her eyes drifted shut. And for the first time in years she allowed herself the luxury of doing nothing save feel.