An Improper Seduction

by Quill, Suzanne

  No sooner had the door shut behind Geoffrey then he caught her elbow once again to pull her into his arms. Her heart was beating loudly as she looked up into his face, his eyes burning with desire. She opened her mouth to chastise him but his lips fell on hers in a merciless kiss. She tried, oh how she tried, to hold herself away, but it was no use. In moments, her hands slid up around his neck and she was kissing him back. Her fingers tangled in his hair; his hands gently, intimately squeezed her bottom and pulled her against his aroused sex. Their tongues danced. Her head spun. When he finally released her, her knees were weak.

  “Geoffrey, we shouldn’t, we can’t. Not here.”

  His gaze was still afire as he drew his hands up from her derrière along her ribs, then gently closed around the swell of her breasts.

  Angeline gasped, “No.”

  He pulled her into his arms again and lowered his lips to her ear. “Yes, I know. This is not the place. But I cannot help myself when I am near you. Can you not feel me? I could take you right this moment and be done with it in seconds.”

  She turned her hot face away.

  He released her and took her to a seat on the far side of the table. “I’ll let you compose yourself now. They will be back with the tea at any moment.”

  Just then, a knock came on the door and it swung open.

  “Hope I weren’t too long, my lord,” said the innkeeper, his thin frame bearing up well under an overladen tea tray. “The missus has just finished these nice scones. They be fresh out of the oven. And the clotted cream was made just this very morning.”

  “I’m sure it will all be quite well, Duncan.” Geoffrey settled himself across the table. He had pushed the chair back and sat down to extend his long legs in front of him. He looked every part the rake as his eyes glittered with their secret and he scanned her appearance.

  Was her hair disheveled? Her dress askew? How did she let him take advantage of her like that? At least she knew he, too, was uncomfortable. She doubted his need could be dismissed as easily as that. She gave him a sharp glance and turned her head away.

  The innkeeper left, the room becoming quiet once the door was closed, the noise from the inn barely a hum from beyond the portal.

  He cleared his throat and, when she looked at him, his right eyebrow arched and lifted.

  “You know this is improper,” she protested.

  “Hardly at your ripe age, my dear.” The smile was more in his eyes than on his face but, it was there nonetheless.

  “People will talk and they will not say kind things. And the viscount. He will chatter along with them. Geoffrey, this is just not proper.”

  “My Angeline, the innkeeper can walk through that door at any moment. It is not locked. When I saw you fending off Hexford, I could not help myself. And, I get the graciousness of your company for a short while. How could I refuse? You’re just lucky I did not take you when I had you up against the door. I was ready, you know.”

  She blushed. She felt it rush up over her breasts, her neck and into her face. “Geoffrey, you are too much by half.”

  “My dearest Angeline,” he leaned forward to her now and looked at her solemnly. “That was not what you whispered to me last night when you were beneath me. If anything, I was not sure I would be enough.”

  Angeline felt her color deepen. She didn’t think she could get any more embarrassed.

  He leaned back in his chair. “Now, dearest, calm yourself and pour the tea. We shall endeavor to keep our lust under control and prove to each other we can act like rational adults.”

  She did as she was asked and was quite surprised when the next hour passed in a delightful conversation. They spoke about Aphrodite and how she had ridden her into town. They discussed the upcoming ball, who would be there, and to whom the marquess should be introduced. And much more. The innkeeper checked on them regularly and not once did he find them in a compromising position. If he were to be asked later, Angeline was sure he would have to answer the tea was shared by two who were no more than good friends.

  She hoped it would be so.

  It was not until the innkeeper took his final leave and Geoffrey came round to assist her with her chair that her heart thudded again.

  Once more, he pulled her into his arms and placed his lips on hers. Heated moments passed and Angeline questioned whether their restraint would hold.

  Then he released her, holding her just long enough so that her weakened knees did not give out.

  “Until tonight, my Angeline. We must see what mischief we can come up with to delight you anew.” He folded her hand in the crook of his elbow, opened the door, and led her from the inn. He escorted her back to her mare and there lifted her onto her horse as if she was naught but a feather.

  “I’d escort you home, my lady, but my business here has not been completed. Is there a groom I can find for you?”

  “No, my lord. As you said, I am far too old to need the protection or scrutiny of a chaperone.” She nodded her head and turned toward home.

  The moon was waxing toward full and the sky was abundant with stars as Angeline approached the cottage. Her heart beat a rapid tattoo and her stomach clenched with the thought of being in Geoffrey’s arms again.

  Would it ever change? Just that afternoon he had held her and kissed her in the inn. She had lost all control. It was he who had stopped the encounter before it had gotten out of hand.

  Thank God one of them could maintain some semblance of balance. Yet, she had to admit, she liked it when he lost control over her.

  She rounded the corner of the small building and approached the front door. It was open and the warm glow of candlelight spilled into the darkness.

  She stepped into the doorway, a hand placed on each side of the jamb.

  The room was welcoming with clean bed linens, lit candles, a fire in the hearth, and an open bottle of wine with two glasses upon the table.

  Geoffrey was not there.

  “Over here, dearest.” She could hear the smile in his voice. Turning toward the lake, she saw him standing in the moonlight. He started to walk toward her, water running off his sleek form glistening in the silver light. She caught her breath as his magnificence swept over her once again.

  He was her Adonis, all muscle, sinew, and strength. She remembered the feel of his skin and muscle under her hands. The power of him. The gentleness of his touch.

  Her heart lurched. How was she ever going to maintain control? How could she guard her heart? How could she let him marry another?

  He stopped in the ebony waters just above his hips. She gazed down his torso and knew what awaited her there.

  Bliss. Heaven. Enchantment.

  “Angeline, I thought you would never come. Shed your clothes and come to me.”

  She could not see his face clearly in the starlight. She could only feel the resonance of his voice in her heart.

  “It is much too cold, my lord.” The thought of bathing with a man was new to her, even if it was Geoffrey.

  “Nonsense. You know I will keep you warm. Disrobe. Let me watch you.”

  “But. . .”

  “Angeline, this is your next lesson. Have you lost your nerve? Or shall we continue?” His voice was like a soft growl. No yelling. No demanding. Just the enticement of pleasure to bring her to heel.

  She stepped over to the rug spread upon the dark grass not far from the water’s edge. Slowly, slowly, she removed the few garments she wore. Why wear much when she knew it would all be removed?

  “Magnificent!”

  She looked up to find Geoffrey standing with his arms crossed over his chest watching her intently. She could feel the blush rise up her throat and face.

  “Enough hesitation. Come here now.”

  She turned to face him and walked gingerly towa
rd the dark surface. Geoffrey held his hands out to her, inviting her, welcoming her. Her toes dipped into the cool waters; she retreated.

  “Come, darling. It is warm once you get used to it. Come into my arms. I will keep you warm.”

  She could see his face now, though his eyes were black and unreadable. His hands reached out for her.

  She waded into the depths.

  As the cool waters engulfed her, she felt her body react. Her skin rose in gooseflesh. Her nipples tightened. But she was drawn to him.

  She reached him then, the waters coming up past her waist, still cool against her. He closed his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.

  His skin was warm. His touch firm but gentle. She heard his breath rasp.

  Geoffrey’s heart lurched as he enfolded her in his arms. He felt the chill of her skin so he tenderly rubbed his hands up and down her back and drew her deeper into the water. No matter the chill, when his body touched hers his tightened all over. His sex was already so aroused he could hardly stand it.

  But he had to take it slowly. She would need to be wooed in such a cold surrounding. And, he didn’t wish to hurt her.

  “That’s not so bad now, is it?” he whispered against her ear.

  “It’s cold.” Her breath fluttered against the hairs on his chest.

  “I’ll continue to rub your skin. Does it help?”

  “Yes, a little.”

  “Then I must do more.” He moved one of his hands to tilt her chin up and settled his lips on hers.

  He no longer felt the cold, only heat spreading like a wildfire through his blood, over his skin. His brain was muddled and his sex throbbed. He groaned low in his throat as he parted her lips and slid his tongue into her mouth to taste her.

  She welcomed and kissed him back, moving even closer into the warmth of his arms. Her hands slid around his neck and her taut nipples brushed his chest.

  Heaven. He was in heaven.

  No, not yet. Soon though, very soon.

  He lifted her against his body and slid his hands down her thighs, guiding them around his hips. His arousal solid against her stomach, he could feel the soft fur of her nether regions against his ballocks. He groaned again.

  “I want you,” he whispered into her ear. “I don’t know how long I can wait.”

  “I am yours,” she whispered back.

  If only that were true. If only she would say yes and quit these foolish games. If only she would be in his bed every night and would wake in his arms every morning.

  His hand moved down her bottom and between her cheeks. His fingers slid forward and moved between her nether lips. He heard her gasp and felt the shiver that went through her.

  It wasn’t from the chill of the waters.

  Parting her gently, he rubbed the bud that had already tightened, then slid a finger inside her.

  She was wet. She was ready. She was his. Again.

  In one smooth motion, he shifted her and slid into her warm, tight sheath. Grabbing her derrière, he pulled her tightly against him to seat himself to the hilt. He heard both her moan and his own while her closeness brought out the scent of her rose and lavender perfume, filling his head.

  “Yes,” he sighed. Now, this was heaven.

  Her thighs tightened around his hips. He could feel her heels pressing into his back.

  She wanted more.

  He leaned her back to trail kisses down her throat, across her collarbone, and her breasts. With his sex pulsing deep within her, he took one taut nipple into his mouth and suckled. Gently at first, but then the need overtook him and he became rougher, faster.

  Angeline’s hips gyrated against his. Her hands were holding on to his shoulders, her nails digging in. She was gasping for breath but relentlessly pushing toward him.

  Then she started to quiver. It was slight at first, but it continued to escalate as she thrust more frantically into him whispering, “Yes.”

  He took her mouth roughly again and grabbed her backside. Hard and deep he plunged into her as he felt her climax roll over them.

  He lost his control. He lost the battle. The roar of his completion echoed over the water and through the countryside.

  His. She was and always would be his. There would be no other and he would do whatever necessary to possess her.

  His. She would be his.

  Chapter 12

  Friday arrived as any other day. Geoffrey had told her the night before he would not be stopping by but would see her at Hexford’s ball. Her gown was delivered from the seamstress and Angeline tried it on to insure its fit.

  Perfect.

  She worked in her garden, dined with her father, who seemed unusually pleased with himself for some odd reason, and retreated to her bedchamber. She took a leisurely bath and washed her hair.

  She wished to be magnificent.

  Margaret dried her hair and arranged the russet curls atop her head, leaving tendrils draping alongside her face and at her nape.

  When she donned the gown and looked herself over, she was very pleased.

  She dabbed her favorite fragrance at her temples, and at the pulse points on her throat and wrists. She had the strongest desire to dab intimate places that only Geoffrey would find, but her maid’s presence quelled the thought.

  When she descended the staircase to take her father’s arm, she was pleased with his reaction.

  “Angeline, I have never seen you look so very radiant. The gown is exquisite. Is it new?” Angus tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and escorted her through the door after Thomas, bowing at the waist, opened it. The carriage awaited them at the bottom of the front steps. Her father had it cleaned and polished for the occasion. It gleamed in the soft evening light.

  “Well, yes, father.” Angeline looked up into her father’s adoring gaze. “It has been an age since I indulged. I thought I might go to London this Season to help with Gertrude. I would need at least one new gown for such an excursion so I decided to go ahead and purchase it now.”

  “It’s very attractive. Are you sure you are not trying to impress some special gentleman?”

  Angeline felt herself blush. “Now, father, you know I would do no such thing. I am way past the age of dressing to entice a man.”

  But Angus’s look was knowing and he gave her a little wink as he said, “If you say so, my dear.”

  The drive to Hexford’s manor was not very long but his pitted driveway gave their driver a fair amount of difficulty trying to smooth out their ride. They arrived at the steps jostled but none the worse for wear. Angeline wondered where the viscount had spent his funds while ignoring such a visible sign of good estate management. Everyone attending that night would be sure to notice.

  Moments later, they stepped through the portal to be greeted by the viscount.

  “Lord Hartfield, Lady Angeline, it is so good of you to grace us with your presence.” After Angus bowed at the waist and Angeline gave the appropriate curtsey, Hexford took her hand in his and bowed over it. As he rose, he said intimately, “I can hardly wait for our first dance, Lady Angeline. I am looking forward to spending time with you this evening.”

  His eyes grazed her body as he stood up. His leer made her stomach turn.

  “You are a vision tonight. I will be proud to have you on my arm.”

  Rather than cause a scene or betray her revulsion, Angeline gave a slight nod and turned to be escorted to the ballroom by her father.

  Her frustration with the viscount continued to mount. No matter how blatantly she rebuffed him, he refused to accept she had absolutely no interest in him. She had to share at least one dance with him since he was their host. But she refused to think about further dances, much less time alone with him. That would just not do.

  The room was
lit with many candles, but few decorations embellished the walls. The light, though dim, did little to hide the shabbiness of the surrounds to any who took the time to examine it. The deep blue paint was dull. In places, it was cracking. The window dressings were listless and looked as if a good shake or cleaning might do them a world of good, if they did not fall apart from the attention. Intermittently spaced, upholstered chairs and settees lined the walls. Currently, quite a few of her neighbors and friends were sitting or standing and chatting gaily.

  Her eyes fell on the Misses Grimm and Gertrude, so she made an indication to her father. Gertrude’s eyes lit up as they approached. Her gown was charming and most appropriate to her age and status.

  “Lady Angeline,” Miss Patience extended her hands. “It is most good to see you again. And just look at our Gertrude. Did you not do a stunning job of her?”

  “Miss Patience. Miss Prudence. Gertrude. Nonsense.” All of the ladies made their curtsies to Angus as he bowed over their hands. Knowing the conversation would not be to his interests, he made his apologies and left them to join a group of gentlemen across the room.

  “I am quite sure the two of you could have done just as well,” continued Angeline.

  “Possibly,” said Miss Prudence, “but I doubt there would be an accepting smile on Gertrude’s face, no less a pleasant attitude. Your wisdom saved the day, Lady Angeline. We thank you again.”

  “And are you pleased, Gertrude?” Angeline turned to the miss in question.