Honor by Lindsay Chase Page B

knot of pleasure slowly started to unravel deep within her belly, enslaving her senses. When Robert’s mouth closed over a straining nipple, Honor cried out, unprepared for the intensity of her response, and buried her fingers deep in his hair.
    Abruptly he rose, untied his dressing gown, and let it fall open. He was a slender, broad-shouldered man, but his illness had left him too thin. Except in one respect. Honor stared out of astonished eyes.
    She extended her hand to touch him, but he stayed her curious fingers. “I wish only to please you,” he said. “Undress. Now.”
    Honor rose, removed her peignoir, and pushed the nightgown off her shoulders. She had thought she would be embarrassed, standing naked before a man for the first time in her life, but she loved him so much that all she felt was pride that she could cause such hunger in his eyes.
    She slipped into bed, savoring the contrast of cool sheets against hot skin. Robert let his robe drop and slid in beside her.
    He explored every plane and hollow of her body with deliberate, maddening slowness. When she tried to reciprocate, he always stayed her hand. “You must let me worship you.”
    “But I want to give you pleasure, too.”
    “You do, just by being my wife.”
    Honor was so ready for him that she barely felt any pain as she welcomed him into her body. When he began to move within her, he murmured, “Mine,” with every thrust, until the word became a drumbeat keeping time with Honor’s rising passion.
    When her climax sent her exploding into thousands of shards of light, she screamed Robert’s name, and he threw back his head and crowed in triumph. She was his, forever and ever.
    Later, after he made love to her again and still refused to let her make love to him in return, Honor lay there in the growing darkness and wondered why she felt both possessed and a possession.

Chapter Seven
    New York City
    Honor stood before the closed door, stared at the name Jedediah Crawley, Esq., painted in bold black letters on frosted glass, and tugged at her locket nervously. He had to hire her.
    In the three months that she and Robert had been living in New York City, Honor had lost count of the number of law firms she had gone to seeking a position. Armed with ample self-confidence and letters of reference from Cleavon Frame and several other prominent Boston attorneys and judges, who had written them as a favor to Theo, Honor stormed the legal bastions of the city. She soon discovered that all of them, from the largest firms with dozens of attorneys to the smallest one-man firm, had raised the drawbridge against her.
    She took a deep breath, opened the door, and went inside.
    Honor liked Jedediah Crawley the moment his receptionist showed her into his small, cluttered office. A barrel-chested man with a booming voice as wide as his smile and a bone-crushing handshake, he reminded her of her father. “Sit down, Mrs. Davis, sit down,” he said. “I always have time for a fellow Bostonian.”
    When they were both seated, he said, “So you’re Sydney Tree’s niece. I left Sid’s company shortly after you came to live with Theodate, but I remember you.” He shook his head. “The company was never the same once Sid died, never the same. Just as profitable, but never the same. How is Theodate?”
    “She still misses Uncle Oak, but otherwise she’s fine.” Wes saw to that.
    He nodded. “She’s quite a woman, your aunt, quite a woman. If Sid hadn’t gotten her first, I would have asked her to marry me.”
    Honor smiled. “All men want to many Theo.”
    “Indeed. She’s that kind of woman.” The niceties dispensed with, Crawley said, “Now, I’m assuming you’re here for some legal advice, Mrs. Davis, so how may I help you?”
    Honor leaned forward in her chair. “Actually, I’m here seeking employment, Mr. Crawley.”
    “Employment?” His smile widened. “Anything for Sid’s niece, anything. Are you a typewriter? A