Extract From Manderston - a novel (Part One)

Extract From Manderston - a novel (Part One)

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Two men wanting the same woman, who is a young, beautiful heiress and could take her pick in men.

Summary

Two men wanting the same woman, who is a young, beautiful heiress and could take her pick in men.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Extract From Manderston - a novel (Part One)

Author Chapter Note

Two men wanting the same woman, who is a young, beautiful heiress and could take her pick in men.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: October 12, 2014

Reads: 593

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: October 12, 2014

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EXTRACT from Manderston, a novel set in the mid-nineteenth century – Historical Romance/Mystery - out in December.

PART ONE   

Jasmine Genner turned  back to Lord Beresford,  who  was  still  draped over the back of  her chair like a guardian angel.

Morgan Hindley’s lack of attention towards her only served to tantalize  her more.  On the occasions he smiled at her, she felt weak. The emotion that welled up in her was so utterly new and she was bewildered by it. She longed for him to pay her attention, dreamed of him, and indulged in wild fantasies of making love with him. She was obsessive about the man she loved,  demanded an equivalent return of her feelings and would cross the line to get it, and intended getting it in the most expeditious way.

Edward Beresford might be a roué but was not a fool: he was well aware of Jasmine’s attraction to Morgan Hindley. His face, ardent and wistful when it dwelt on Jasmine,  grew  tense  when she constantly turned her attention to Hindley, who radiated such confidence.  Jasmine was a tease, accustomed to mesmerizing men with a toss  of  her blonde curls, but her wiles didn’t seem to be working on Hindley.

Still, all the  same, Beresford was not accustomed to playing second fiddle to anyone and, while dancing with her, told her so. She accused him of being jealous! Who was she that she should hold herself superior? Him jealous! Of course, he denied it, but then, at the speed of lightning, he realized he was indeed jealous, not of Morgan but of anyone Morgan favoured, no matter in what way. He was struck dumb by this stunning discovery, and was forced to confront the true nature of his feelings for Hindley. He thought of Morgan’s height, his strong body,  his  tousled,  fair  hair and soft hazel eyes, and felt a yearning unlike any he had ever experienced. He was well acquainted with the demands of lust, but this was different; it was one thing to indulge in occasional perversion out of curiosity, but another to fall in love with a man. What a colossal irony! He and Jasmine both wanted Morgan Hindley, and Morgan hadn’t shown the least romantic interest in either of them.

While he was dancing he felt every pair of eyes in the room were watching him while the truth of his real nature flayed at his defences and stripped him naked to the world. He could imagine the contempt they would heap on him if this dishonourable love for a man was revealed. Without a doubt, he must bring this marriage scheme to fruition and soon. A beautiful wife like Jasmine on his arm at public  events  would  be  the perfect camouflage.  He needed  her  for  that  almost more than he needed her fortune.

***

Morgan  Hindley lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.His hands were clasped behind his head and his long legs crossed, his  mind  on  Jasmine  Genner. She was manipulative and spoilt, but oh, so beautiful. Her face, so clear in complexion that it seemed to imply clarity of soul, floated across his vision. He closed his eyes and saw her as she had looked at the dance—the graceful head, the gentle outlines of shoulder and breast, the soft gauzy flow of her gown. He remembered how his hands had been full  of  an  ungovernable  desire to touch her; how he had fought with the desire and conquered it.

He’d feigned indifference knowing  it would serve to draw her in. And to prevent her from thinking he was only after her fortune, he had made it worthwhile for George Landale to let slip that he was a millionaire. Of course, he wasn’t, but in her naivety, Jasmine would believe anything she was told. She herself had laid snares for Lord Beresford, and Beresford danced attendance on her but, as far as he was aware, the Viscount had not yet hinted at marriage.

Morgan sighed. He had been patient, but time was running out. Once the girl left the ship he might never get another chance to reel her in.

A knock at the door broke into his thoughts.

‘Dammit!’  He  rose  from  the  bed. ‘Who the hell could that be at this hour?’  he asked himself irritably.  Pulling  on  his robe to cover his nakedness, he knotted the belt.

‘Who  is  it?’  he  hissed through the door, running his hand through his already tousled hair.

‘Jasmine,’ came the whispered reply.

He opened the door and looked at her with genuine amazement. ‘What an earth are you doing here at this time of the night?’

‘I had to talk to you, urgently.’

For perhaps five seconds they looked at one another without a word, then his hands reached for hers and drew her inside and he closed the door behind her. ‘Aren’t you aware of the risk you’re taking, coming to a man’s cabin at this hour?’

‘Oh, Morgan, don’t be cross. How else could I see you alone?’

She had on a soft, gauzy thing, the colour of ripened wheat, trimmed at the edges and cuffs with wide ivory lace.  His eyes narrowed speculatively, for she really looked quite splendid, and at once he forgave her foolishness in coming to his cabin at such a late hour—alone.

‘Your aunt will have a fit if she knew where you were. How did you get away?  She watches you like a hawk.’

‘In  the  day, yes,  but  she  won’t  even  know  I’m gone now. Besides, she’s a hypocrite of the worse kind. She constantly goes on about the rules of decorum and yet she invites her lover to her cabin at night. I could hear them as I crept through the sitting room.’

‘Do you know who her lover is?’

‘I can’t say I take much notice.  Men crowd round her like flies.  Anyway,  I’mnot  here  to  talk  about  my  aunt.  I want to talk about us.’

‘Us? I thought you’d lost your heart to Lord Beresford.’

‘Once  my  father hears about him,  he’ll force me to  marry  Edward  for  his title … I just know he will. He doesn’t care about my feelings. He never has. But Aunt Eleanor insists Beresford is an unsavoury character, although I don’t quite know what she means by that.’

‘I’ve never met any man whose charm approaches his. It’s partly feminine. What does he do for a living?’ Morgan questioned.

‘He does nothing. He’s a gentleman of leisure.’

‘I suppose if one has no conscience one has no shame. I thought you and he had something that goes beyond friendship. Has he asked you to marry him?’

‘Not yet, but he’s about to. I feel it. It’s my fortune he wants.’

‘But isn’t his title the attraction, what you want?’

‘I thought it was, but Edward’s such a bore. Had you paid more attention you would have discovered where my true feelings lie. What did you think when you first saw me? Did you not find me attractive?’ she probed boldly, captivated as lovers are by the mysterious birth of love.

Amusement battled with astonishment at her frankness. ‘There’s not a man alive who wouldn’t.’

‘I wanted you from the moment I first saw you,’ Jasmine confessed, her lovely face wreathed in smiles. ‘I fell in love with you then. It was at first sight, as the novels say.’

A ripple of gladness moved through him.

‘Does that shock you?’ she asked.

‘Should it?’

‘My aunt says that when a man attempts bold gestures, it’s considered romantic.  If women  do it,  it’s considered desperate. But  how  else can  a woman let a man know how she feels about him? At least you having listened at all … gives me hope.  Do  you think you could learn to love me, Morgan? Oh, I don’t expect you to answer outright. Only remember that my happiness depends on your answer.’

He  felt  a stirring of desire. ‘Jasmine ... I have no intentions in keeping you in suspense. You are every man’s dream.’ Those words were uttered with a breadth of candour that was like the embrace of strong arms.

He kissed her forehead.

She  raised  her  huge  cornflower-blue  eyeswith their  fringe  of luxuriant lashes to his, her pale hands fluttering about him like joyous little birds. ‘Oh, Morgan, I’m not a child. Kiss me properly. I’ve longed for this moment. I didn’t know it could be like this.’

She  burrowed into his arms,  doing her best to get deeper into his embrace,  making soft little sounds in the  back of her throat.  He  could tell what it was she wanted and that she wanted it as much as he did.  Her perfume and warm scent increased his  desire  as  he  lifted her bodily and carried her into the bedroom and lay her on the bed, settling beside her. He felt the urgent, explosive desire for her flood the pit of his belly.

His experience with women had taught him one of the most significant differences between the sexes: for men, sex could remain separate from emotional entanglement. But for naïve, vulnerable young women like Jasmine Genner, the former inevitably led to the latter. And this was his chance.

‘Are you sure about this? You have to be sure.’

‘I’ve  never  been  more sure about anything in my life.’

Aware that this was her first time he was afraid to move too fast, lest it alarmed her. Smoothing her hair back from her brow, he marvelled on how lovely she was. Then, gently, attentively, as though she were some breakable thing, which, should he damage, would be beyond repair, he cupped her cheeks with his big hands and covered her moist,  rosy  lips  with his own, his tongue exploring her mouth, his lips nibbling hers. He raised his head and looked down into her eyes.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered.

His  lips,  his  hands were all she knew.  The rest of the world slipped away from the heated burn which tingled along her breasts and settled between her legs.

Morgan  could  not  help but smile at the perfectly innocent  admiration in her bright eyes at the sight of him naked,  her extreme bashfulness, how its prodigious size made her shrink with flower-like innocence. It took patience to teach her the first lessons of making love, making sure the fire of their budding passion was well stoked.He was mindful not to bear down upon her too heavily for she was as light as thistledown.  But  so  aroused  was  he,  his excitement so great, he could wait no longer and entered her with the greatest of care.

There  was  a sharp little pain as he penetrated her, fusing them together, but she did not pull away. Soon her breath came in little moans of rapture and her body arched and trembled with pleasure. It flowed and rippled inside her, moving from the centre of her, where she and Morgan were joined,  to every tingling nerve  and  pulse of her body.  And  she felt for a split second that she would die of sheer delight.

It  was  then  that  Morgan  felt  that  long shudder, which happened so rarely in women and then usually in the types who were paid to feign it. Afterwards, they slept.

It  was  the  same  the next morning before it was even light, their bodies easily aroused to sensuality. Morgan held himself back until that sweet centre of her  womanhood  came  alive  and flamed through her and she called out his name. Though their passion was quick to climax, the tenderness lingered, holding them together in a tangle of limbs and intricate fusing of emotions.

The miraculous discovery of intimacy with another  person  was the most profound experience of Jasmine’s life.  For  her  it  was  not  onlya supreme pleasure but  a  way to get close, to blend her deepest self with another  human being’s.  Her  body  was  slumberous, stretching after the touch of his hands and mouth and the enchantment they brought to her.

 

If Jasmine Genner had been dazzled by Morgan Hindley before, she was giddy with love for him now. She lay back on her own bed, cradled by memories of her lover’s touch, the excitement of it, the discovery  of  passion  with  the  man  sheloved.It  was not easy to leave him lying. Asleep, he looked younger and vulnerable, his dishevelled hair curling over his forehead and his finely shaped mouth softened to boyishness. When she thought about  the  excitement  of  their  love-making, a fresh urge washed over her as she recalled how so easily he was able to make her quiver. 

 

To be continued....


 


© Copyright 2017 Margaret Snowdon. All rights reserved.

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