“This is utter madness, Abingdon. Stop.”
“No,” he growled. “Touch me again everywhere. You drive me insane.”
The touch of her hands ran over his shoulders and she pulled him even closer, liking the firm, demanding touch of his chest against her breasts.
Noelle moved her fingers along his narrow hips where she lingered and circled his muscles. Hands then glided up his thighs to his firm buttocks, memorising the planes of the hot flesh on top of her.
The thrill of being naked against his tall frame enflamed her. Body slick and wet against him, their juices joined her core to his. She searched for that evading completion, arching, demanding more of him. Her mouth danced, breathless. Her tongue tangled with his. She darted into his mouth again, exploring, delighting in the salty taste of him.
Noelle held on while they rolled together, exchanging positions, her mouth moved lower to his throat with wet kisses, moans, and roaming hands.
She sucked at his nipples, first one and then the other, slow, then fast, while her knees leveraged her weight. Like a wild animal set free, she threw her head back, shook her hair loose as her wet lips followed his damp hair straight down his chest, savouring, tasting, nibbling, teasing, exploring to where she longed to centre herself on his swollen member. With a gentle hand, she fondled his ballocks with her fingertips.
At that same moment, she raised her eyes when he growled in pleasure. She fluttered her tongue over the ridge of his maleness - Noelle would never grow tired of that ecstatic sensation. She pressed against him, gazed down as she held him firm, then moved up his body like a slinking cat and plunged herself down on his manhood.
Abingdon rode wave after wave of satisfaction until he came down to earth. When he looked at his limp penis, he realised that his naked imagination had created the outcome.
Damn it, he had allowed her to conquer him with another wet dream. The naked images of them together wreaked havoc. In a frenzy, cursing aloud, he used his hand to expel his seed and recognised the deep need for her body in the flesh.
<<<
As his breath slowed and he returned to normal, the one fact he recognised was that he wanted her, had to have her, and it all would have to be at her urging. That presented quite a scene in his vivid mind. A plan began to form and he would implement it the following evening. He remembered her trickster ways. Which costume would she wear?
In secret, he admired the fact that Noelle took on assignments because of the money. In this instance, funds did not represent a problem.
The expenditure would be a minor sum if it brought them together again. If she decided they could never be, he’d accept that at least he’d tried his level best to make amends for the malevolence of his father. In truth, he’d never stopped loving her. Every time he took out his pocket watch, he experienced a new emotion. Sometimes malice. Sometimes regret. Sometimes anger. But always love wound its way to his hungry heart.
He was a rogue, so why not resort to the reservoir of romantic phrases and pursuit which he’d used to seduce. But always, there had existed the one woman he wanted—and loved. Damn, he’d give her a thousand reasons to know him again.
Everyone expected him to wear his military uniform and a mask, but other ideas intrigued him. His French was a bit rusty, but he could manage a conversation. A Marquis of France would attract some attention, true, but not dressed in uniform. Garbed in a mysterious black cape and a green waistcoat, he’d have his valet slick back his wavy hair and tie it in a queue. His man, Philippe, part French, would also etch a moustache, and they could practice a few risqué sentences. His manhood developed a mind of its own at the thought.
“Damn uncomfortable. I should be grateful the dormancy suffers no longer. Jolly good show, old chap.”
What kind of idiot speaks to his groin? The answer was simple — an idiot in love.
Abingdon’s restless night viewing the various details of the past twenty years, through the lens of his father’s hoard of documents, lasted through to the wake of dawn.
It was most difficult - after harbouring insidious contempt for so long, one doesn’t wake up one morning and simply say, “I will not tolerate this any longer because it shouldn’t have been. Betrayed by my father, who masterminded the untruths, I cannot forgive him, nor can I forget. There should have been punishment for the crime the foul man committed.”
The mind must learn to adjust to the truth.
To his credit, he recognised the impossibility of the situation. He’d missed all those years of lost happiness, love, children, and the general matters of life. His father had chosen to cast himself in the role of a deceiver. Her father, though well-intentioned, had aided and abetted the scheme for protective reasons.
One of the letters spelled out the cause for the feud and hatred between the two men. His aristocratic father had married the woman her merchant father had craved. The older Abingdon, a blueblood in thought, word, and deed, had vowed that Noelle and his son would never marry. She would tarnish the bloodline.
Chapter Nine
Abingdon decided to walk the gardens and set memories to rest. He walked a quarter-mile and with the late afternoon sun in decline, he dismissed the torment from his mind. A woman in a large bonnet came into view, sitting on one of the benches near the labyrinth. To his disappointment, as he approached, it was not Noelle, but her daughter, writing a letter.
Allyn Fenwick raised her gaze and smiled.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace. A wonderful breeze filters through the trees.”
“The house does seem a bit warm, Miss Fenwick. I, too, decided to take a cool walk. Are you looking forward to the Ball? Masquerade Balls are an excitement since you can let your imagination run wild. What will your costume be?”
“Mama advised me not to tell anyone.”
“My lips are sealed, Miss Fenwick. Will you save a dance for me?”
“But of course, it is my very first occasion. Mama warns me not to be starry-eyed.”
“You are a breath of fresh air, my dear. It’s no wonder Sutton is smitten with you.”
His smile was more than generous to the precocious imp by his side. He thought his nephew most fortunate. At one time in his younger life, he had been most lucky, too.
“What costume will you wear? Please, tell me.”
Abingdon grinned with his question.
She jumped her gaze to the right and left as if there were anyone who could overhear. Their eyes locked together and she whispered.
“Rapunzel. I will wear a long, braided wig and a gossamer fairy-tale blue gown. Please don’t tell Sutton.”
“How will he find you amidst all the guests if he doesn’t know?”
Again, he engaged her eyes with his gaze.
“We’ve agreed to meet in the garden at a specific spot. Oh, dear, Mama doesn’t know about it.”
“I’m sure he will keep you safe, Miss Fenwick. Nonetheless, you must exercise caution under a full moon, on a starlit night with my handsome nephew.”
“Tsk.” Her frown spoke to the situation.
“You should discuss this with your mother. I don’t believe she’d approve.”
“Your Grace, I don’t understand these grown-up restrictions. I can use my fists if it is necessary.”
“Miss Fenwick, do you believe that you can pummel a grown man with those beautiful hands of yours?”
His mirthful tone said that this was more fun than attending a comedy in a theatre.
“Of course. After I’ve kneed him, he’d be at my mercy. My brother taught us well.”
“Ouch,” Abingdon exclaimed in raucous laughter.
“What will your mother wear? A long red wig?”
There was a reason for his inquiry.
“No, Mama’s costume is of a sorceress with a long black wig. Her dress is also a dark midnight color and risqué. A bit naughty for my taste, but then not too many will recognise her. She’ll carry a black encrusted wand. If it were up to Mama, she’d wave the dr
eam-wand and whisk us all away to the Americas, to be with my brother.”
“You love your brother very much?” Abingdon asked the young woman.
“Yes. Fenwick is the head of our family. Three years ago, he went ahead to establish himself, and he now has his horse ranch.”
“Your admiration indicates that your brother does well.”
His jocular tone brightened even more, and it lightened his mood.
“Yes, he is treated as if he’s English royalty, because of his middle name.” Her gaze went to the note. “I’ve written to my brother in America about your marvelous estate. Mama is busy with all of the preparations for your special event. Although I do try to help, I get in the way. I’m so excited I can hardly bear to wait.”
Abingdon smiled at the precocious young woman, so vibrant and vivacious — who reminded him so much of her mother, except for the eyes and hair colour.
“Might I sit? Would you mind company, my dear? Where is my nephew who leaves you alone when he should shower you with attention?”
She waved her hand for him to sit.
“He’s busy in conversation with the barrister. I’ve forgotten the name.”
The graphite pencil stilled in her hand and she laid it on the seat.
“Your Grace, I see Mama waving at me. Oh, I must leave right now. Please excuse me. I will see you tomorrow night.”
He noted her mischievous wink as she gathered up her pencil and paper, and skipped to her mother before he could ask any more questions. At the moment, his mind felt like an empty rainwater barrel, praying for the skies to open to fill it. And, with many questions yet to be answered.
Allyn rushed to her mother’s side.
“Is everything ready for the ball?”
“I’m still checking the list. It’s good that the guests are curious about the festivities. I keep thinking I’ve forgotten something important. Oh, dear, I have to make sure that the schedule for tomorrow is listed in the breakfast room, but first I’ve got to calm myself.”
“Everyone is anxious. In fact, the Duke of Abingdon just spent time with me, asking questions about you and me. I’m sure I babbled like a blithering ninnyhammer because I spoke so much about Trevor and us going to America as a family to see him.”
“Be careful what you say around His Grace. While he is our host and the honoured guest of this event, he can assume an overwhelming presence to all.”
“Mother, let me help you. Perhaps I can ask Pembrooke if I can do anything to assist. Please let me do at least this for you. Sutton is busy with the barrister. I don’t know that many people here. It will help me to do something useful, besides having pointless conversations with persons I don’t know well.”
“Yes, please do, and report back to me.” She turned to ask, “Where is the Duke? I’ve not seen his regal prescence about.”
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you don’t like the man. If so, why did you take on the assignment?” Allyn tilted her head towards her mother.
Because I need the money to take us away from England… and him. Just his nearness and the sight of him sends pleasure waves throughout my body. The scoundrel.
“Why do you ask questions to which you know the answers? You, who dreams of nothing else but traveling across the ocean to see your brother. All of that costs a considerable sum. If I can lessen the burden on Trevor, it gives me pleasure.”
And stops me from thinking how much I want Abingdon back in my life and yes, my bed. Damn him.
Ever since first seeing him on his return to England, she’d constantly fought her renewed passion for him. Does a woman ever forget her first love, her first time with a man? No. She might hold him accountable for her problems, but never could she hate him. Hate was an emotion which embittered the soul. Yes, the thought of pummeling him to release all of the pent up anger would help. She disapproved of his morals because of how he’d hurt her.
Now, he returned to haunt her dreams. Nights spent tossing, turning and remembering how wondrous it was, when they were together, prevented sleep. She’d awaken with her night gown soaked with perspiration. It appeared that the earth had opened and she’d fallen into a crevasse of extreme longing for him.
Chapter Ten
The Masquerade Ball
Abingdon spoke to his valet.
“Philippe, is there any way you can darken the colour of my hair with pomade?”
He liked the reflection in the mirror but wanted complete anonymity for a few hours in the ballroom.
“Oui, Monsieur,” the servant answered with a smile as he combed through the slick strands. “However, I want to see the lady you wish to impress with all of this preparation.” His voice offered humour. “I can prepare your suite with champagne and sweet tidbits. Perhaps you’d care to show the lady your four-poster bed?”
The servant’s grin now held mirth.
“Philippe, you always anticipate the unexpected. Yes, I can’t guarantee her appearance, but one never knows if my charm is still in top form.”
The thought of the exquisite Noelle in his suite of rooms stirred untold memories of their younger days.
He shooed away all thoughts since he no longer would settle for anything but real passionate lovemaking. He vowed there’d be no more visions with wet dreams — only the ardent woman in the flesh.
“Your Grace, there are times actions speak more than words. Do you wish much light in the suite?”
“Yes, but not too bright. Incense for fragrance would add a touch of mysticism.”
Abingdon couldn’t remember a moment of more enjoyment than the formation of his siege plans to bring Noelle back to him. She had become an obsession. An itch that demanded to be scratched. Much as he tried not to think of her unless she was truly in his arms, for a moment his damn imagination roamed once again.
A kiss here. A kiss there.
A gentle touch of the back of his knuckle down a high cheekbone.
A roving hand caressing the cleft of her throat in tingling circles.
A pause as the fingers meandered to full breasts.
A tongue gliding over those same luscious mounds.
“Your Grace, I do believe your disguise is complete now. Do you require anything else of me?”
Abingdon jerked alert.
“No. I’ll go down the back staircase and enter the ballroom from the veranda, so no one will see me. I will reconnoitre and find my unwary lover. I’m in the mood for mischief. Wish me success, my man.”
“I do. Do you care to wear a rose in your lapel, so that it is available, should you desire to bestow it to the lady in question at some convenient time? You could lay it on her naked stomach, oui?”
“Excellent thought. Yes. I would consider myself most fortunate to do so. Carry on.”
Abingdon took one last look in the floor mirror, adjusted his satin mask, and left the room. He glanced from left to right and made his way down the longer route. Soon he walked to the terrace and slipped into the room. He scanned the dance floor, kept near the wall where he spied Rapunzel but no sorceress. Motionless by a Corinthian column, he waited and calmed his thoughts.
Noelle’s laughter echoed in his ears. He’d know her face anywhere, despite the dark mask she wore. Two masked pretty young ladies joined the group. Evidently, introductions were made with the two men in the group with her, and while he couldn’t hear the exact words, she returned a bright smile to them. A third, well-dressed golden-haired man in a cobalt blue uniform joined the group. It might be he was a Russian officer, perhaps in the Hussars?
Abingdon took an instant dislike to the last gentleman since he appeared to flatter Noelle with his speech. He fisted his hands again. Were they soon to pair off? Damn, the sorceress costume and her dark hair suited her too well.
The ball may have been in his honour in his home, but she was the star. Every now and again she seemed to search the room.
“Do you seek me?” he muttered, but the myriad men in the distance kept her occupied. He’d
been absent too long, for he didn’t recognise any of them.
The full masked Russian dominated the group. The man whispered in her ear. Noelle pulled away; her smile vanished. Her head moved to the side, her back now to the man in a direct cut.
“Bravo, Noelle” — an utterance no one but he could hear. “Russians are known for boorish manners with beautiful women.” Again, he mumbled to the silent wall.
He held her in his sight. She kept her back to the man in cobalt, smiled graciously to the others and moved to different friends. The dress, had a bare back except for the collar around her neck, which appeared to have two purposes. The first was to obviously hold the dress together. The second, and more dangerous aspect, was that it allowed the bareness, which would give any man second thoughts. From the front, the gown appeared to be modest and austere. But when she turned around, it became a beacon for attention. Such beautiful shoulders demanded to be caressed by a man skilled and intent on seduction.
Again, she scanned the room with a hasty gaze, then turned her eyes back to the group for the social niceties. Her laughter rang through the air. The man she’d cut continued his predatory leer. Out of habit, Abingdon’s fists clenched again ready to rush to her aid should it be needed. His jealousy reared its ugly head and he turned away for a moment. When he turned back, she was gone. Where? With whom? The Russian was nowhere to be seen. He now realised that he should make his presence known, for the party was in his honour – but, how could he? Noelle was more important.
He soon caught sight of her alone, striding toward him, until she stopped for a moment, quite close on the other side of the column he had leaned against.
Abingdon’s gaze moved to her, and he locked his eyes onto the woman in black, carrying a large wand. To say that she stunned him, close up, would understate the vision she presented. The gown outlined full breasts, tapered to a small waist and natural curves. Abingdon grinned when he realised that the uncorseted dress hugged her body like a second skin. She seemed about to leave. He stepped out and barred her way.
The Duke's Christmas Promise (Regency Christmas Romance) Page 6
