by Tamara Gill
Lizzie didn’t know how her ladyship had passed, and she didn’t like thinking about Lord Wakely being left motherless as a boy. How sad for him. Her heart gave a little lurch.
“I’m sure your mother would also give anything to be able to do so, my lord. You loved her very much.”
He cleared his throat. “I did, but such is life.” He seemed to shake himself from the conversation and asked, “Where did you learn to play billiards like that? I think even I could lose to you and I always thought myself adequate enough.”
Lizzie preened a little at the compliment. “Father had a table at our home in the country. Whenever my parents left for the Season before I debuted, I would spend the time playing billiards. I used to run competitions with our staff, some of whom are very good players, and I learned that way. It was jolly good fun, and whenever I can sneak out to play when we’re home I do so. I usually have to wait for Mama to retire before I can round up the few staff who like to play.”
“You play billiards with your servants?” he sputtered, his words laced with shock.
She laughed. “Of course. There isn’t much to do in—” She stopped before she gave away where she lived.
He shook his head, chuckling. The sound was deep and sent a frisson of awareness through her. Was he laughing at her second slip of information or at her story itself? That she couldn’t answer, and she fought to turn the conversation away from such personal information that could give her away.
She spied a cat asleep in the window and, letting go of Lord Wakely, she went and picked it up, scratching the little animal under its ears before placing a kiss on its head.
“You like cats?” he asked, coming over and giving the animal another scratch.
The black and white moggy purred in Lizzie’s arms and she smiled. “I love cats. When I… that is to say, when I can.” She had been about to say ‘when I come of age’. Seriously, she needed to remember that she wasn’t supposed to advertise who she was. “I’m going to fill my house with them. I simply adore them. What about you?”
He patted the cat’s head. “I prefer dogs, but I tolerate cats.”
Lizzie placed the cat back down where it had been lying and faced Lord Wakely. The question that had been burning in her mind since last night was too powerful to deny a moment longer. “Why didn’t you kiss me last night? And I mean really kiss me, like a man kisses a woman in passion.”
Hugo fought to find a grain of truth as to why he’d denied them both what they wanted. The moment he’d seen her enter the parlor this morning, being with her had been all that his mind could conjure. He’d kicked himself for not kissing her, for not giving her what she wanted. He could only blame the last shred of gentlemanly behavior–his friendship with her cousin Lord Leighton–for his actions.
But not anymore. He wouldn’t deny either of them what they wanted. In the few moments when he’d thought Lady X would partner her with some other fop, he’d almost had apoplexy before the guests. No one wanted to see a grown man throw a fit over the hostess’s choice, but if it meant securing Lizzie as his partner, he was willing to do anything. Even act the fool.
That in itself wasn’t normal behavior, not for him, and it was telling indeed.
“I couldn’t say as to why I didn’t. I wanted to. So much,” he said, not able to tell her it was because he knew who she was, and knew her cousin would rip his bollocks from his body should he know he was kissing his relation at a party of ill repute.
But that wasn’t the only reason, and this one was the worst of them all. For all of Lizzie Doherty’s attributes, she wasn’t an heiress and couldn’t satisfy the clause in his father’s will. Somehow it seemed wrong to kiss her under such circumstances. And even though no one was supposed to know the identity of anyone else at these parties, Hugo would know Lizzie anywhere. Something in the way she trusted him, spoke guardedly with him, told him that perhaps she knew who he was as well.
She leaned back against the wall, reminiscent of his stance as he watched her play billiards. She rocked on her heels, observing him. “Will you kiss me now?”
His body roared with hunger and he closed the space between them without a moment’s thought and kissed her. The instant his lips touched hers he moaned. The minute he’d seen her enter Lady X’s parlor, he knew they’d end in this position.
Her kiss was untutored, and he clasped her chin, shifting her a little to allow him to deepen the embrace. He nipped her bottom lip and she gasped. It was the perfect opportunity to introduce her to his tongue, which he tentatively touched hers with. In his arms he felt her soften, become pliant. Her hands wrapped about his neck, her body soft and moulded against his.
In this position his desire for her was plainly obvious, but she didn’t seem to shy away from it. If anything the minute undulation of her hips told him she was enjoying this as much as he was.
The luncheon gong floated toward them and Lizzie pulled back, her eyes wide with newfound awareness. He grinned. “Did you like my kiss?” he asked, leaning in to bestow another on her before they moved on.
She slowly nodded, her attention snapping to his mouth. What she was thinking was clear to read. It was the same thing he was. How much he’d damn well enjoyed kissing her just then, and not only that, how much he’d enjoyed the morning in her company, playing games and talking about all things, including cats.
He took her hand and pulled her back toward where they came from, heading for the dining room. “Come, we’ll sit together for lunch.”
Chapter 6
Lizzie all but floated down the stairs the following day. She’d slept late and broken her fast in her bedroom. The kiss that Lord Wakely had given her had filled her dreams, and today started with the promise of more delicious things to come. Would he kiss her again? She couldn’t help but hope he did. At this point in time it was all she wanted in all the world.
The wind howled outside, the storm refusing to dissipate. Lady X had left a note on her breakfast tray that stated the road out of the estate was still flooded, so Lizzie would have to stay another day. It was no hardship, not if it meant that she could continue her seduction of Lord Wakely.
Her stomach fluttered at the thought. If he did suspect who she was, what did that mean for them when they returned to town? Would he wish to see her again, court her perchance?
Lizzie stepped off the stairs and stopped as the man himself strode out of the parlor. He came straight toward her and, taking her hand, towed her in the opposite direction to the room.
“Come, I have a little activity set up for us.”
Lizzie fought not to read too much into the fact he held her hand, was seeking her and only her out. They crossed the vestibule and entered a room that would catch the full afternoon sun when it was out. Even with the stormy wet weather outside, the room was still bright, decorated in light pastels and greens.
There were a number of chairs around the room and at each one stood an easel and an array of paints for guests to use.
“I’m going to paint you today,” Lord Wakely said, grinning and pulling her toward a chair near the corner of the room which had windows on either side. “Do you paint, my lady?” he asked, helping her to sit and straightening out the folds of her gown to be ready for her impromptu portrait.
“I had lessons as a child, but I was not very good at it. I can sketch better than I paint. Something about mixing the colors just right I could never manage to do well. My paintings all ended up looking abstract and coarse.”
“Are you trying to tell me the portrait you’ll do of me today will be modern in its appearance?” Lord Wakely sat and positioned his parchment. He gave instructions for how he wanted her to pose and, doing as he asked, she turned her gaze toward the windows and watched the storm bluster outside.
“I am, yes. I’m no Thomas Gainsborough. But I see they have pencils, so I’ll forgo the watercolor paint and draw you instead.”
He painted her in silence for a time, and for the entire duration Lizzie
could feel his gaze, his attention burning against her body like a brand. Every now and then she caught what part of her body he was concentrating on, and her skin heated. “Do you think you’ve captured the likeness of my breasts well, my lord? You seem quite fixated on that part of my person.” She fought not to laugh at his throat clearing. It was very forward of her, but if she was to take this opportunity while she had the guise of anonymity, then she would do all that she could to tease him. Lord Wakely was so very educated in the art of dalliance that it was only during times such as these that she had the slightest chance of matching his skills.
He put the paintbrush down, but she didn’t turn to see what he was up to. Her heart thundered in her chest when he stood, tipped her face up toward him, and kissed her. The kiss lingered and without thought she kissed him back. He was impossible to resist, not that she wanted to. She would take all that he could give her while she was under this roof, to a point at least. Her virginity wasn’t up for debate.
No sooner had he started their little indiscretion than he sat back down and commenced painting again. Lizzie fought to control her emotions, reminding herself to believe he didn’t know who she was and that was why he was interested. The other option–that he did suspect–gave her too much hope, and she wouldn’t allow her mind to run away into fantasies of them marrying and having a horde of children together.
“May I ask you a question, my lord?” Lizzie watched an old elm blow in the wind outside and hoped the majestic tree survived this storm.
“Of course.” He reached out and adjusted her gown, and she swallowed as his hand lingered upon her leg. “You may ask me anything.”
“I’m assuming, by the fact you’ve not spent any time with anyone else here these past few days, that you’re not interested in anyone else. What made you choose me?”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. She turned to watch him, wanting to see his eyes while he explained his actions.
“I think it was the gown, along with your beautiful fiery red hair. The moment you walked through the door I wanted you in my bed. Everyone else paled in comparison to your beauty. And having spent some time with you, I think you’re quite mature and intelligent. So now that I know you also hold those positives…well, I’ll not be letting anyone else have you.”
“And if I don’t sleep with you, my lord?”
He threw her a devilish look. “You may not. It doesn’t mean I’ll not have fun trying to change your mind.”
Lizzie bit her lip. Golly, she couldn’t look away from him. Her body burned with unsated need and without thought she stood, walked over to him, and sat on his lap.
“I may be an ugly witch with warts under this mask. You may not wish to sleep with a fraud.”
“Are we not all frauds in here?” His hands clasped her hip, hoisting her hard against him. Lizzie could feel his desire for her, and even though outwardly she showed no signs of what he was doing to her emotions, inside she was a riot of feelings and thoughts. “I shouldn’t want you as much as I do,” he rasped, his eyes dark with desire.
“Isn’t that the whole point of this party? To want and then have your desires.” Lizzie reached into his hair, loving how it slid soft and silky between her fingers.
“Of course it is, but these parties are not supposed to have conversations as lengthy as we’re having. The interactions are supposed to be of other kinds.”
Lizzie smiled. “For whatever it’s worth, my lord, thank you for keeping me company and being such a gentleman about it all. I know you would expect more from a participant at these events, and although I’m more than willing to try some things, I cannot try everything.” His hand idly rubbed her back and she shivered under his touch.
What was it about this man that she reacted in such a way? And what a shame that their interlude would end the moment she left for home. If he did not suspect who she was, she could never confront him in London about their time together. But if he did know who she was, would he seek her out?
“I will never force myself on any woman, so you’re quite safe with me. And I’m more than willing to teach you other things you can do with a man without taking him to your bed.”
Heat bloomed on her cheeks, but nonetheless she was intrigued. “You can teach me things? Like what?”
He half growled, half sighed. “You do realize that to voice what we can do is torture to a man. It’ll make me want you all the more.”
“Tell me,” she urged, wanting to know everything while he was willing to speak. No gentleman would ever talk to an unmarried woman in such an open and frank way in town. Lizzie had often suspected that her cousin and his wife, along with their married friends, all spoke in this way, but within general society the conversations were, to say the least, not stimulating or very worldly. Boring was a good word to describe them.
“I would strip the gown from you, to allow me to view your exquisite body that’s hidden behind all this silk.” His finger skimmed the neckline of her gown, his finger tracing the flesh of her breasts.
“I would pay homage to your breasts, taking my time with your nipples.” His finger traced one through her gown and she gasped, her hands fisting in his hair.
“Then, as I kissed my way down your body, I would hook your legs on my shoulders and kiss you down here,” he said, cupping her mons through the gown. Lizzie closed her eyes, biting her lips as he kept his hand there, stroking her.
She moaned, and before she knew it he was kissing her, ravishing her mouth. Her own hand covered his, keeping him touching her, delighting in the feeling his touch brought forth in her.
He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his lips red from her kiss. “I would take you with my mouth, lick your sweet flesh until you rocked against my face and found your pleasure.”
Lizzie shuddered, her body not her own, but all his. “What kind of pleasure?”
“You’ll see…” he said, kissing her again and making her forget who and where she was entirely.
Chapter 7
The following day Hugo lazed in a chair beside the roaring fire in the parlor, his blood as hot as the wood in the grate. Lizzie was literally driving him to distraction. After their interlude in the painting room the day before, where he’d made her climax in his arms, he’d almost ripped both their masks off and stopped all the pretence. But he could not. She was here enjoying a little freedom that was so seldom given to women of her station, and he would not ruin the time she had left by exposing her. He’d wanted for himself one last foray in debauchery, but he’d never imagined those days would be with Lizzie Doherty, a woman who made him laugh and long for so many things he’d not thought to want.
To have a marriage of convenience now didn’t hold as much shine as it once did. In fact, it didn’t glow at all.
Her laughter carried to him and he looked up, spying the little minx lazing in the window seat with Lord Finley, the man’s hands too close to her thigh for his liking. The seductive determination he read in the rogue’s eyes was enough to make him seethe, tempted to pummel him to dust.
In the few days they had been stuck at the house party, Lizzie had blossomed into a woman. She should’ve been gone from these walls the very next day after her arrival, but as luck would have it she was stranded here with them all.
He’d thought she would hide in her room and remain cossetted away like a good girl. Instead she’d thrown herself into the party with a gusto that left him struggling to find his footing. At first, he’d looked at her and had seen a lovely girl, but now…now he saw nothing but woman, a passionate, intelligent woman who made his blood pump fast and hard in his veins. He wanted to be around her, to discuss all manner of things, and he’d not wanted or looked for such things before.
At these parties, the chase, the lure of having someone he’d wanted for weeks, was what had made him attend. He didn’t have to worry about courting or conversations, or enjoying himself with anything other than the pleasures of the flesh.
But not anymore. Now
he couldn’t wait to return to town where he would see Lizzie’s face again, this time without a mask.
Hugo sat forward and all but threw his crystal tumbler onto the table before him. He couldn’t court her unless he somehow came up with a way to keep his fortune from going back to his uncle. Lizzie’s cousin watched over her like a hawk, and if he knew what Hugo had already done with his charge, he’d call him out.
A little voice taunted him that she would never be his, not as poor as she was, and he could thank his father for such a fate. There was little chance he could talk his uncle into allowing him to keep his inheritance, and so because of his need to find a rich wife, something Lizzie was not, he would lose her.
He looked over toward her again and inwardly sighed. He could’ve looked forward to having her as his wife.
Lady X clapped her hands, gathering everyone’s attention. “We’re going to play a game. Ladies, I will ask you to leave the room while the men will stay. The gentlemen will spin a top which has an arrow marked on it. Whoever the arrow lands on will bid a woman enter. You will then be required to partake in the most passionate kiss you can create.”
Some of the gentlemen laughed, while the ladies giggled and oohed at the game. Hugo met and held Lizzie’s across the room, and determination warmed his blood. As everyone went about preparing for the game, he grabbed Lady X’s arm. “Can you ensure I’m paired up with the one I want? I’ll be most disappointed if she’s saddled with any of the other men here present. They should not be honored with her kisses.”
Lady X looked at him with amusement. “Oh, and you should? You must take a keen interest, to ask such a thing from me.” She let that little statement hang in the air for a moment before she said, “You may ask, my lord, but I do not have to grant your wish. You’ll have to wait and see how lady luck plays her hand.”
