by Stacy Reid
He grunted, as if annoyed. “And what will your husband who sounds to me like one of those elegant and proper dandies think of you knowing to fight, and how you came by the knowledge?”
She bit back a laugh. “He will not know unless necessary.”
“Ah…a marriage with deception then, so a normal ton marriage from what I have observed.”
Verity smothered an exclamation of annoyance. “You are trying to vex me!”
“Perhaps,” he said with provoking amusement. “And I do not need a wife with connections. While it would be beneficial to my future ambitions, it is not a requirement. I can make it anywhere, no matter how brutal the climb, on my own terms.”
There was that unbending resolve in his tone, and she realized it was his innate pride which had pushed him to be the man that he is today. Many would have crumbled under the expectations of turning around the fortunes of several estates and to provide for so many dependents. Most would have married a woman of fortune and not done much more.
But not James.
“I would like my countess to possess intelligence, kindness, and all the social graces and proper knowledge of how to behave in society to help our children take their place in the world. In that regard I am sorely lacking, with blunt edges that will never be smooth enough for me to wade through these shark-infested high society waters without a few bites. Though I promise I will bite back.”
Yet he sounded so uncaring. And a pulse of awareness echoed inside of her. “But most of all, you wish for a lady who would accept you how you are. That is one of the reasons you are no longer interested in pursuing Lady Susanna.”
He stared at her for a moment, and then said, “Your break is over.”
With startling speed, he rolled atop her, caught her wrists, and caged them at her side, rendering her helpless. A wave of heat burst through Verity, like molten lava.
He dipped his face perilously close to hers, their noses almost touching. “Use all resources I’ve shown you so far to escape.”
She struggled to push his massive weight from her body.
“Remember, Verity. Bite. Knee in the groin. Scream if need be. One aspect of fighting is learning how to be scrappy. You are small, but quick and agile. That quickness is your greatest advantage.”
She lifted her hips with a hard jerk, but his grip did not break. The man did not even budge. And most mortifying, she had to stop as a ripple of heat shuddered through her. How humiliating that he was not similarly affected. She did everything to mask how unsettled his presence atop her body made her feel. It was not fear, nor a sense of disgust or worry that he would hurt her. James was being a gentleman in every way. It was her secretly hoping he would kiss her. Verity felt awful. She wriggled and bucked beneath him, wicked thoughts stirring despite every attempt to bury them deep in her mind.
“Think,” he snapped, sounding rough and tight. “Escape me!”
A snarl of frustration slipped from her, and she reared up and brushed her lips along his collarbone. When he did not release her, she pressed her lips to his.
James froze in astonished silence, then lurched from her so quickly, he knocked his elbows onto the floor. He winced and scrabbled to his feet, and she awkwardly stood.
“I am terribly mortified, James. I cannot imagine why I did that. I am so sorry!” Verity wanted to die from the humiliation coursing through her. She had kissed him. It had been a quick peck on the lips, and it had wrought the loosening of arms she’d needed for a quick escape.
She pressed a finger to her lips. “I was not thinking, James!”
The look on his face made her want to disappear. What had she been thinking? But that was the problem wasn’t it? Often she did not think, acting on sheer impulse.
“Think nothing of it,” he said gruffly walking a few paces from her. “The element of surprise is always good. You caught me off guard and you escaped. Well done.” He glanced around. “This session is over. Good night, Lady Verity.”
Then he walked away, leaving her standing there like a fool. Dear God, surely, he would terminate their agreement. Why had she been so foolish and impulsive? And now there would be a terrible, awful tension between them if he would ever agree to another session.
Verity wasn’t certain how long she stood there before darting through the door, and down the hallway. At the base of the stairs she glanced up to see him just reaching the landing to the second floor. She hurried after him, panting slightly, ignoring the aching in her muscles. A door closed in the distance and she made her way to it, lifting her hand to knock.
It was highly improper, her conscience warned her. Surely this was his bedchamber. But she had to talk to him. The manner in which he had dismissed her did not bode well, and she had to convince him it was an aberration and it would never happen again. And certainly standing in the doorway of a man’s chamber and talking to him, could not be more indecent and scandalous than that man teaching her to fight!
Verity knocked on the door and waited. When no answer came, she knocked again. After a few more moments, impatience and anxiety had her testing the door. It eased open under her palm, and she faltered into remarkable stillness.
Her chest went so tight, she could scarcely breathe. James was naked!
His thighs and calves were thick and powerful, stomach and buttocks lean and delineated with muscle. I am staring at a naked man. Her heart thrummed painfully hard and her entire body tingled. Dear heaven, she had never felt like this before.
She must have made a sound, for he glanced around and their gazes collided. It was the earl’s turn to freeze and it was as if he turned into a marble. A multitude of emotions flickered over his face before it became impassive. Yet he made no move to grab for a banyan or his clothes. The doorknob slipped from her nerveless fingers, and Verity turned and ran as if rabid dogs chased her. Her response had been too strong, too frightening, and she wanted only to hide away.
She dashed into the room assigned to her, made her way behind the screen, and started to remove the small shirt and trousers with trembling hands. Verity paused and rang the bell for Grace. Oh God, what had she been thinking to follow him? The maid arrived and a few minutes later Verity was once more garbed in her chemise, pantaloons, petticoats, and her dark green gown. Her hair was fixed and her small dark hat and veil once more covered her features.
She fought for a sense of calm, hating how heated her cheeks and entire body felt. What must he think of her? And why had he not followed her? Why had he not berated her for the kiss? Verity wasn’t certain she wanted the answer to those questions, but she could not leave without an apology. Her sleep would be haunted. And she absolutely must know if they were to continue with lessons.
She made her way downstairs, and paused at the base of the stairs, gripping the carved mahogany railing. This time she would await an answer before daring to open his door. In fact, she would wait for him to come to her. Perhaps in the drawing room.
“His lordship is in the library,” a bland voice said from behind her.
She turned. “Thank you, Fenton,” she said to the butler with a nod, then sauntered toward the library. Once there she knocked.
“Come.”
She opened the door and slipped inside. “I apologize, my lord. I was not thinking, and I ask you not to be upset—”
He turned around with such fierceness, she stumbled back. But it wasn’t fear that filled her. Verity’s belly went hot and her knees weak at the expression of raw desire on his face. He wants me. A hand fluttered to her mouth as she stared at him with ill-concealed shock. Breathing was nearly impossible as she waited for him to move, to say something, for she was robbed of further speech. He was singularly inappropriate to be a romantic interest. He was too big…too vital, too dominant. So why did she feel so breathless…so achy with unfathomable need?
Finally he said, “I believed you had left, Lady Verity. I thought the sight of my nudity would have chased you all the way to Grosvenor Square and beset your nerves f
or the rest of the week.”
The room suddenly seemed to be without air.
“I…no, I had to change first,” she said inanely.
“Of course, how remiss of me.”
They stood there, holding each other’s gaze, and the tension in the air felt fraught with such peril she trembled.
His eyes sharpened. “Are you afraid?”
It took her a moment to answer. “Of you?”
His regard was too steady to be comfortable. “Yes.”
“Of course not, my lord.”
He glanced away briefly, but she’d spied the stark flash of relief in his beautiful eyes. His regard settled on her once more. “You’ll always be safe with me. I apologize if I scared you earlier when I held you down. It was ungentlemanly of me knowing of your past. I will endeavor to ask permission whenever I wish to impart such lessons.”
Something cold melted inside of Verity. “Thank you, but an apology is unnecessary. I was not afraid. Not once. And I am heartened to know our lessons will continue,” she said softly, fighting the ridiculous need to walk into his arms.
She did it anyway, and hugged him, ignoring his soft grunt of surprise. There was no logical explanation for why she did it. It was improper, and intimate. Yet she hugged him fiercely, distantly aware of the fine trembling in her frame.
Thump. Thump. Thump. How fast his heart beat, and Verity knew it was for her. She withdrew from his arms and glanced up at him. She was venturing into unknown territory. Verity should be scared but she was enthralled.
She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. Stop! Deep down, a frightened part of her cried, but she did not obey. James closed his eyes briefly, as if he hoarded the feel of her lips on his skin. He hauled her up to him, and when she gasped, he took her mouth with his. James brushed the lightest of kisses across her mouth before capturing her lower lip between his teeth to bite down gently, teasing her lips to part with soft nibbles and hot, urgent kisses.
Soft whimpering noises escaped from deep in her throat, and she was helpless to stop. Verity had never felt more gloriously, joyously alive in all her life.
Chapter 9
James felt a deep conviction that he would regret yielding to the temptation of the woman in his arms. But she’d lifted her sweet face to his and he became lost. He stumbled with her to the chaise longue by the fire, and twisted so she landed atop his chest, never once releasing her mouth from his. Verity’s moan slipped from her mouth to his, the sound so soft…surprised yet wanton, James felt he finally understood the true meaning of hunger. It flamed through him like a fiery whip of desire, and he kissed her over and over, unable to recall her innocence in the face of such enticing carnality.
One kiss from her would never be enough, and he had known a man with his brutish and inelegant ways would never have suited a fine lady of quality as herself. Earl or no, she wanted a certain refinement and he did not possess that, and never would, even with a thousand lessons. Even now, a brutal ache pounded through his cock, demanding he ravish her with the hottest of pleasures.
He bit her lower lip and tugged, sliding his tongue inside heaven. Her nails bit into his shoulder, and their tongues tangled in bliss. Her husky whimpers seemed to take hold of his groin and give a tug. Sweet mercy, he wanted her. His loins were aching and heavy, and he wanted to take her upstairs, strip her naked, worship her with open-mouthed, lascivious kisses against her wet sex, before burying his cock deep, and riding her for the night.
Lost in the haze of roaring needs and a burning desire he had been denying, he gripped her hips and positioned her, so she sat astride him. They broke apart, breathing raggedly, and peering into each other’s eyes. For some reason he anticipated a slap to his cheek for his audacity. But his lovely Verity only stared at him, passionate shock in her golden eyes.
“I ache,” she said softly.
The space between them heated, and his control wavered. “I burn.”
Without breaking her gaze, he tightened his grip on her hips and rocked her down and over the hard ridge of his cock which strained against his trousers.
Her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, and her eyes widened. James did it again and a wild cry tore from her throat. Even through the layers of her gown and petticoats, she would feel the sensations as he slid her down, then up in a slow sensuous glide over the hardened length of his cock. Her eyes clouded with dazed delight, and something hungry throbbed inside of him to relinquish control and be the right kind of wicked.
He slid one of his hands down, dragging her dress and crinkling petticoats up as he stroked along her stocking-clad leg past her garter. He then wrapped his fingers around her bare thigh. The need that tore through him was a savage, demanding, relentless ache. His palm found the inside of her thigh, stroked, caressed, as he savored the feeling of her softness.
James fiercely reminded himself she had been through hell, a genteel lady who’d come to him for protection and he would not take advantage of her innocent sensuality. Not when enough men in her life had disappointed her.
She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I have never felt anything as beautiful as when you kissed me.”
The softly whispered words cut through his heart and left him bleeding, vulnerable, and he did not like the need and uncertainty pouring through him. It felt like everything had change.
“Verity, I—”
With a choked sob of need, she thrust her fingers through his hair, lifting his face to her as she lowered hers to meet his lips. Her fists knotted in his hair, on his shoulders, at the small of his back as she became the ravisher and he the seduced. James fell under her spell, willingly, and it was he who became enslaved to the driving demands of her kisses which bespoke innocence and a wild, burgeoning passion.
A girl of less strength of character might have succumbed to seduction, burning in wild passion, without thoughts of consequences. But not his Verity. Another choked sob came from her and she shimmied off his lap to sit beside him. He braced for her to jump from the chaise and perhaps call him every deserving name in the book—a wicked seducer, a despoiler of innocents, a disgraceful libertine. She did neither, and an emotion he would never be able to quantify rose in his chest like a storm when she leaned to the side and rested her head against his shoulder.
“Will this brief moment of madness ruin our friendship?” she murmured huskily.
And somewhere inside he hurt, though he could not explain it in full. How happy he would have been if she had demanded that he paid a visit to her brother and did the honorable thing. For he would marry her…in a heartbeat. Would she resent him if he took the choice from her and called upon her brother?
A brief moment of madness. If he respected her and the choices she wanted to make for her life, he would have to chalk up their soul-shattering kisses to a moment of madness and nothing more. It was clear that was what she wanted. His stomach twisted in tight, painful knots. “Nothing could ruin our friendship.” It is too precious. “We must simply ensure this…madness does not happen again.”
She made no reply and he did not require one from her. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before he stood. Without question she followed him as he led her outside and into the carriage. Verity did not question it when he hauled himself inside the coach and sat on the squabs opposite to her. James escorted her home, and they did so in silence. And when the coachman opened the carriage door and assisted her down, he watched as she disappeared into the safe haven of her home.
It was early yet, just midnight, perhaps he could visit the club or even White’s. Yet James did neither. He went home, climbed into his bed, and dreamt of Lady Verity.
Three days had passed since Verity had been seared with desire, her world upended, her expectations of passion shattered and reshaped, by a kiss. She had not been able to stop thinking about the feel and taste of Lord Maschelly’s mouth upon hers. For the dozenth time, she pressed trembling fingers to her lips and closed her eyes. She could still feel him there, a ghos
t determined to haunt her with wicked memories of passion and possibilities. Even when the marquess had kissed her before he had revealed himself a vile brute, she had never felt anything beyond mild frustration and annoyance for she had not found pleasure in his embrace.
Not so with James. There had only been desire. And most distressing of all…I want you to kiss me again. Did that make her a wanton…a tart? It had been a similar recklessness which had caused her to trust a blackguard and he had attacked her. What if—?
No! Something fierce and unexpected welled inside of Verity. I shall not blame myself for his vile actions anymore. And the earl would never force himself on her. The man had honor, and a kindness that was unmatched in anyone she knew.
But what did it mean that she wanted to kiss him again, perhaps even do more?
She sucked in a sharp breath, do more? Oh, I am being a silly, silly miss!
The door to the earl’s townhouse opened unexpectedly, and the butler stared down at her with a baffled frown on his face. Verity blushed for she had been standing outside for at least five minutes, lost in thoughts and indecision. The butler possibly had been aware she stood outside, dreading seeing the earl after their encounter. Verity felt vexed she was already blushing and she had not seen James as yet. It was a pity she could not retain her veil for the duration of today’s lesson.
“My lady, please come inside.”
She took a steady breath and stepped inside.
“May I take your coat my lady?”
With a nod, she unbuttoned her pelisse and handed it to Fenton.
“The ballroom has been prepared, if you will come this way, my lady.”
She hesitated. “And is the earl in the ballroom?”
“No, milady. He is in the library. I will inform him you have arrived after I’ve escorted you.”
“Thank you, Fenton,” she said with a smile. “I will inform the earl I’ve arrived. Please do not trouble yourself.” Verity could never abide waiting whenever she was overly anxious.
