Page 4 of A Second Chance for Carys
A woman’s voice. Branwen’s? James couldn’t be sure, as she had spoken in a barely audible whisper, as if not wishing to be overheard.
“Yes, I’m sure. What would be the point of being master of Sheridan Manor if I cannot take you wherever I want, whenever I want?” Matthew’s voice was hoarse with need, confirming it was indeed Branwen in the other room. Too in love with his wife, he would never think of waylaying another woman. “Sit on me,Raven, like you did that first time. Make me come. Jesus, I’m bursting with the need of you.”
James stole a glance toward Carys. Though, mercifully, she would have been unable to make sense of the words, she could not have failed to understand what was happening. It would be clear to her that the man in the next room was about to take his lover with all the passion he was capable of. This was excruciating, and the worst was yet to come. Soon they would hear grunting, moaning, panting. It would be bad enough for him, but the woman about to ride her husband senseless was Carys’ own daughter. No one should have to listen to their children making love.
Had she recognized who the two lovers were?
Yes, she had, if her horrified expression was anything to go by.
He could not let her face this. It had been bad enough to watch Goldie and Silver copulate the other day, they would not today listen to Matthew and Branwen make love.
Taking her by the hand, he cleared his throat loudly to warn the couple that, contrary to what they had hoped, they weren’t alone and were about to be interrupted.
“Fuck!”
There was a series of curses and the rustling of material, betraying the fact that the frenzied lovers were restoring order to their clothes. James gave them a moment to make themselves decent. When he and Carys finally entered the room, Matthew was standing in front of his wife, shielding her from view, doing what he could to minimize her embarrassment. Placed behind his big body, Branwen would be able to avoid seeing who had almost caught her in the act of making love to her husband—her own mother. It was a relief.
“Forgive us, we were just?—”
“Yes, yes,” Matthew snarled, not best pleased at the interruption. “Just go.”
James didn’t need to be told twice. Still holding Carys by the hand, he made his way to the staircase.
Once they were safely out of earshot of the two reckless lovers, he turned to face her.
“I’m sorry about that.” To help convey his meaning, he raised both his palms in an apologetic gesture. Though it was not his fault, he could not help but say something. He’d left without a word the other day in the forest, and had regretted it ever since. It was not her fault that learning a new language was not something that could be accomplished in two days.
Carys bit her lip. “Branwen?” she asked, pointing in the direction of the solar.
James hesitated. This was awkward. He had not expected her to ask confirmation about the identity of the lovers. Then he saw the anguish in her eyes. Because she hadn’t understood what Matthew had said, and she hadn’t seen the woman hidden behind his bulk, she was worried her daughter’s husband had been sneaking around with a mistress under his wife’s nose. An understandable concern. Too many men he knew would do just that. As embarrassing as it was, he could not let her worry on this score. It was not fair to anyone. The couple in the solar hadn’t been doing anything wrong, and Matthew did not deserve to have his morals put into doubt just because he couldn’t keep his hands off his wife.
Being in love and reckless was a feeling James remembered too well.
“Yes. It was Branwen.” For good measure, he nodded. For once, he was grateful he and Carys weren’t able to communicate better, as he didn’t want to talk to her about the fact that she had almost overheard her daughter riding her husband.
He could tell his answer had reassured her but she didn’t know what to say. For a long, uncomfortable moment, they stared at one another. What was the point of staying here, he wondered? He should just leave.
After one last bow, he did just that.
How embarrassing.
Carys would never have admitted to anyone, including herself, that the urgency in Matthew’s voice, the very explicit noises she had heard, the realization of what was happening in the other room, had inflamed her imagination and heated her blood. Standing next to James in that little room, she had felt her body respond in a most unsettling way. Perhaps it was due to the long abstinence imposed on her, or perhaps to the proximity of a man exuding virility, she didn’t know. Either way, it was worrying.
“Holy Mother of God, have mercy on me,” she said to herself.
Why did she have to feel attracted to a man like him, so stern and unyielding? Richard, who could not communicate with her any better, always went out of his way to make their encounters less awkward, using noises and hand gestures to make his meaning clear.
Not James Mortimer. He just stood there, assessing her with those unfathomable black eyes. It was as if he thought she was not worth making the effort of trying to communicate. Or was it even worse than that? Had he guessed she was not immune to his charm? Was it his way of discouraging her? Right now, in the little room, had he been as affected as she when they’d overheard the two lovers? He had acted with decision, taking her away before it was too late, and she was grateful for it, but…but perhaps she wouldn’t have minded if he had pressed her against the wall and started to?—
Carys shook her head. What was happening to her? She had yet to exchange a single sentence with the man and she could notdecipher his moods. The stern steward should be the last man she entertained such notions about.
Was that what the appeal was then? Was she attracted to him because she thought he could give her what she was after, a romp between the sheets with no consequences? No real connection, apart from physical pleasure? At her age, that was all she was looking for, and perhaps James Mortimer could provide it.
She had been deeply in love with her first husband, and in the eighteen years since his death, had never even considered she could fall for another man. A meaningless tryst, she could imagine. After all, she was a still a woman with needs, for all that she was a widow and she had, on occasion, given in to men’s advances.
But the only problem was, a tryst with Jameswouldhave consequences. He lived here, and so did she now. There would be no avoiding him after the deed was done.
Besides, how did you bed someone you could not talk to? Part of the pleasure was in the sharing of the moment and the exchanging of heated declarations. It would be impossible to tell James to go slower, to take her harder, to make him understand how she wanted to be touched. And did she really want someone like him in her bed? He might look good, but if he could not even smile when he was amused, would he be able or willing to let his passion burst through while making love to a woman? She would spend her time wondering if he was enjoying himself or what she was doing wrong.
