“Tired, Lady Meredith?”
“A bit.”
She heard the note of sarcasm in his voice, and oddly understood it. Viewing the situation from his side, Meredith admitted her behavior the entire evening had been somewhat vexing. Mysterious and flirtatious, she had been poking him, jabbing at him, prodding him like a sleeping tiger.
With each request, each offhanded suggestion she had tweaked his curiosity, then resorted to silence. It was only a matter of time before the beast within him awoke and roared, and Meredith knew she must be prepared to jump out of harm’s way or be devoured.
The marquess at last climbed the steps to the gazebo and took a few short steps inside. He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at her. Even in the semidarkness she could see his confusion.
Meredith turned her head and stared out into the darkness. She clasped her hands together tightly, wiggled her fingers free, then clasped them together again.
“Why are we here, Lady Meredith?”
“To enjoy the night air, my lord.”
“I think not.” The marquess lowered his head wearily and moved forward.
He took a seat on the wicker sofa and Meredith slid over to allow him room. A tension permeated the air. Meredith admonished herself to behave with sensibility and calm, though there was little of that regarding what she was about to do.
It had been at least a year since she had been kissed. She struggled to remember the subtle approach used by the many men who had wooed her, who had attempted a seduction and received a cool set down for their efforts.
Sweet, flowery phrases and forceful embraces would hardly work in this instance. What was needed was directness, yet the very idea nearly gave her hives.
She risked a glance at him. He appeared not to notice, for the marquess gave a small sigh and stretched out his long legs. For a moment she relaxed. All I need to do is wait. Before long he shall lean toward me, pull me into his embrace, and kiss me.
The notion was equally thrilling and comforting. But then Meredith clearly remembered the subtle nuances of the bet. It must be the spinster who kissed the rake. If that aspect of the wager was not met, she could not claim victory.
She turned expectantly toward him and her heart lurched. When she had lured him out here, her mind had been fixed on winning that ridiculous bet and proving to herself that she was not a prim and proper spinster. She intended only to steal a hearty, passionate kiss and then flee into the night before the marquess had time to recover his wits.
But as she gazed at his handsome profile in the semidarkness, she found herself wondering what it would be like to really kiss him, deep and slow and tender, with an intimate coupling of their tongues—to hold nothing back, to surrender completely to the hidden passion that lurked within her soul.
Knowing she had to act quickly, before her courage failed, Meredith moved closer to him. Her eyes remained fixed on his lips. He opened them to speak.
“Would you care to—”
Meredith lurched awkwardly forward and cut his words off with a kiss. For an instant she felt him stiffen—in surprise she fervently prayed, not revulsion.
She tried to keep the kiss light and soft, but she quickly found herself giving in to the temptation of his masculine beauty, sinking into the embrace, giving herself over to the emotions and excitement.
The marquess slanted his head to fit them closer together. Then his hand cupped the back of Meredith’s neck, drawing her forward. His hard lips softened, then opened slightly, allowing her to deepen the kiss.
Titillated at the invitation, Meredith slid her tongue inside, tasting the warmth of his mouth. A faint moan escaped. His? Hers?
She tried to ignore her quickening breath, the flush of desire that rushed through her. Her breasts began to swell, and a damp, tingling sensation fluttered between her legs.
In her heart, Meredith knew she should end the kiss. The bet had been well and truly won. There was no need to continue the physical contact.
Yet the event seemed to have taken on a life of its own that had nothing at all to do with the wager. As Meredith pressed her lips urgently on his, her hand reached up to touch his face. Her fingertips glided over the smooth line of his recently shaved jaw, enjoying the feel of his skin.
He gasped at her intimate touch. Meredith felt him tug urgently on the bodice of her gown. The marquess loosened several buttons and it gaped open. She cried out as he lowered his head and took the nipple of her left breast into his mouth. He tasted, licked, and suckled. Liquid heat curled though her body as his mouth and tongue feasted on her exposed flesh.
The faint sound of laughter and muted conversation drifted through the stillness of the night and reached Meredith’s ears. Good heavens, what am I doing?
“My lord! My lord!” Desperately she fought to retain a piece of her sanity, a modicum of her pride and dignity. The marquess lifted his head briefly, nuzzling the sensitive hollow of her neck. His lips moved higher, once again finding hers in a long, slow, thorough kiss. The heat inside her grew. Reality seemed to fade away. When he finally drew back, Meredith nearly forgot why she was trying to end this incredible interlude. “My lord . . . my lord . . . please, oh, please . . . Trevor . . . stop, we must stop or else we shall be discovered.”
He paused for a moment. His breath was coming in shallow gasps, and she noticed with awe that the hand reaching out to caress her cheek trembled slightly.
“You are a lovely surprise, Lady Meredith,” he whispered, his tone laced with wonder. “Your flesh feels like silk beneath my fingers, so soft, so smooth, so perfect. What a heady temptation you are, my dear, passionately responsive, sensually giving, a delight far too tempting to ignore. Are you certain we must stop?”
His eyes moved with undisguised longing over her still exposed breasts. Heat flooded Meredith’s cheeks. She was an idiot! How pompous and naive she was to think she could control a man of his sexual appetite and experience. She felt like an utter fool for allowing her wits to be swept away on a sea of pure desire.
“We could be discovered,” she whispered.
For a moment she thought he would argue the point with her, but then he nodded. “I shall have my carriage summoned so I may escort you home.”
“No!” Meredith declared.
Traveling alone with him in a dark, secluded carriage was unthinkable. She might as well lean back against the sofa and allow the passion stirring between them to ignite into full desire. The marquess was far too tempting and she was feeling too strange and puzzled by the encounter to risk being alone with him in such a private, intimate setting.
“You cannot return to the ball.” He reached for her.
“Don’t.” She drew back in alarm.
He straightened and pulled away. Meredith got the absurd impression she had somehow insulted him. “I’m only trying to help, my dear.”
She followed his pointed gaze and looked down at her chest. The bodice of her gown gaped open. Her naked breasts were completely exposed. Her hands, clumsy with nerves and embarrassment, fumbled with the fastenings. In the end it seemed easier to allow him to aid her.
Silently he tied the ribbons of her chemise and buttoned her bodice closed. Oddly, it felt almost as intimate as when he had unfastened her garments.
“Thank you.” Meredith rose unsteadily to her feet.
It felt cowardly and rude to leave so abruptly. But she did. Against the protests of the marquess, with her pulse galloping and her head whirling, Meredith raced along the winding walkway, through the garden, and beyond the tall hedge.
She reentered the house by a side door. Thanks to the crush of people, she was easily able to slip into the crowd. Her aim was to find her brothers and insist they leave immediately.
However, too late, Meredith drifted by one of the many gilded mirrors that lined the edge of the ballroom and caught a glimpse of her reflection.
Her cheeks blushed bright with color. Her lips were red, ripe and swollen, her eyes bright and feveri
sh. Tendrils of her normally tightly wound chignon were curling haphazardly about her face. But worst of all, the exposed area of flesh above breasts was flushed and marked.
By the marquess’s possession.
In the mirror, Meredith met her own eyes and grimaced. She should have listened to him and avoided the ballroom. Desperately she glanced at the French doors on the opposite side of the room. It was the closest means of escape, yet at this moment they seemed very far away.
Knowing she had no choice but to brazen it out, Meredith moved forward. Keeping her head low and her feet swift, she chose the most direct path, circling around the dancing couples. As she neared her goal, Meredith dared to let out a soft breath, thinking she had made it, vowing to herself she would never again do anything so dim-witted.
Her hand reached out eagerly for the brass handle, but then a shrill female voice filled the air. The Duchess of Lancaster stood directly in her path. Meredith nearly shouted out loud at the unfairness of it all.
“We meet again, Your Grace,” Meredith said evenly. Her hand fell to her side and she straightened her spine. “Are you enjoying the ball?”
“Apparently not as much as you are, Lady Meredith.” The duchess wrinkled her nose, then frowned. “ ’Tis not difficult to know precisely what you have been doing tonight. However, I would very much enjoy knowing with whom you have been spending your time and bestowing your favors.”
Five
Trevor leaned back against the wide seat, enjoying the plush velvet and thick padding beneath him. The elegant coach was a vehicle he seldom used, for it was too large and luxurious for just one person. And it carried his coat of arms brazenly upon the door, which made discretion about town a near impossibility.
Yet he was glad he had decided to take this monstrosity to the ball this evening, for it provided a much needed means of escape at the most fortuitous of moments.
“Are you going to speak to me, or sit there glowering for the entire journey to your home?” Trevor inquired of the tight-lipped female who sat across from him.
“I thought you would prefer a silent glower over a heated lecture,” Meredith replied stiffly. “But if you truly wish to hear my thoughts on this matter, I should be pleased to oblige you.”
Trevor coughed softly, lifting his hand to his mouth to hide the brief smile that emerged. He had thought her beautiful in the ballroom, exquisite in the evening shadows of the garden, but now she was beyond equal as she sat across from him, wearing her indignity like a royal badge of honor. Though it was dark, he could see the fire of anger she cast his way, and it set his blood racing.
“I fear you are overreacting to the situation, Lady Meredith. ’Twas just a stolen kiss.”
“A stolen kiss!” Meredith’s lips tightened. “ ’Tis not the incident but rather the discovery of it that has me all tied in knots. The Duchess of Lancaster is a mean-spirited gossip who thrives on the misery of others. She despises me, which will make the telling and retelling of this sordid tale all the more enjoyable for her.” Meredith paused and took a deep breath. “This, my lord, is a full-blown scandal.”
“You exaggerate.” Trevor frowned skeptically. “However, if you had done as I asked and left with me from the gardens instead of returning to the ballroom, all this could have been easily avoided.”
“How gallant of you to point that out to me, sir, at this late juncture,” Meredith huffed. She tilted her chin in the air. “If I had listened to my innate good sense, this unfortunate incident would never have occurred. But that, as the saying goes, is water under the bridge.”
“You insult me, Lady Meredith.”
“How so?”
“Labeling my kisses, my caresses, an unfortunate incident is a serious insult to my manhood. Is that perchance a challenge to best my performance in the gazebo?”
“Don’t be an ass.”
This time he did allow his laughter to escape. She was nothing short of magnificent. The cloak she wore was unfastened, leaving her gown exposed. She still had the glow of a woman who had recently enjoyed a passionate embrace, and that mussed, slightly disheveled look had kept the erection in his trousers throbbing ever since they had entered the carriage.
Wisps of blond hair were falling around her face and the tops of her breasts seemed ready to spill out of that sparkling blue gown at any moment. Trevor silently cursed the driving skill of his coachman, for if they hit a particularly nasty rut the force might succeed in jolting that pair of beauties free of their confines.
The very idea put a fine sheen of sweat on Trevor’s brow.
“I am sure this will all be forgotten by tomorrow evening,” he said smoothly. “The most appealing element of any gossip is its newness. This little tidbit will be dropped the moment the rumormongers discover new grist to run through their mill.”
“This is not a mere tidbit of gossip, this is a banquet,” Meredith snapped. Her mouth twisted one way, then another. “All possibilities of a quick ending to this little drama vanished the moment you stood by my side to defend me. Until your appearance, all the duchess had was suspicions.”
“We were seen dancing together a mere three quarters of an hour before you returned to the ballroom,” Trevor replied, wondering why he felt such a need to defend his actions. “The duchess is a woman of only moderate intelligence, but even a lackwit would be have been able to determine I was the person who put you in that most charming, disheveled state.”
Meredith ducked her head. For a moment Trevor thought she was blushing, but when she lifted her chin, her eyes were blazing with emotion.
“Suspicion is one thing, proof another,” she insisted.
“Proof? What proof?” Trevor asked. “We were not caught in a compromising situation.”
“Exactly. If you had not come to my defense, I could have brazened it out, left the duchess with only suspicions of what I had been doing and no idea of with whom.” Meredith turned her head and groaned. “Your defense of me ruined everything.”
“I cannot imagine what came over me,” he said, fixing her a look of mock dismay. “The duchess was clearly doing her best to humiliate you, and I thoughtlessly intervened to prevent it. In retrospect that was a very uncharacteristic action, for I am constantly told I seldom behave with even the slightest degree of honor. Therefore, I extend my apologies.”
“Would you kindly do me the courtesy of waiting until I have left before indulging your off-color sense of humor? Unlike you, I do not find this situation in any way amusing.” She rested her head against the cool glass of the carriage window and sighed.
Normally such a scathing set down would have had him answering her in kind. Yet she seemed genuinely upset, and for some ridiculous reason Trevor’s conscience pricked at him.
“Is it really all that horrible?”
“I am a strong, forceful person in many regards, yet I posses one keen weakness—a great horror of scandals.” She closed her eyes and sighed again. “A scandal of this ilk has far-reaching consequences, my lord. It can be detrimental in ways we have yet to discover. The perception of our discretion can have even more harmful effects, not just for us but for various members of our family.”
He grimaced. “When you speak of your family, I presume you are referring to your husband?”
“My what?” She sat up suddenly, nearly knocking her head on the window latch in the process.
“Your husband, Lady Meredith. When this scandal reaches his ears, will he be very cross with you?”
She gasped and gave him a strange look, then opened her mouth to reply. She closed it abruptly, without uttering a sound, opened it a second time, closed it yet again, this time biting her lips together so tightly they turned white.
“Who told you I was married?” she asked at last.
“No one. I just assumed.” A gnawing anxiety sprang to life in the back of his mind, but he cautioned himself against overreacting. Neither her attitude nor her kisses were those of a maiden. Of that Trevor felt very certain.
“You are a very beautiful woman, Meredith. I remember well the year you made your debut in Society, and despite your unconventional demeanor, you were much sought after by the young bucks. And the old men. And most other males in-between.
“I knew you had turned down many proposals that year, but I naturally assumed you had married sometime in the interim. It was a long time ago.”
“I am not that old,” she cried out with indignity.
“Old?” Trevor smiled faintly. “You are far from a crone, and yet even you must concede you are hardly in the first blush of youth.”
“I am twenty-six years old.” Meredith snorted. “Four years younger than you, my lord.”
“And well past the age of marriage.” His eyes met hers. “My assumption was a natural one.”
“Your assumption was an insult.” The look she shot him was one of pure disgust. “And speaks of your contemptuous regard of women. I can assure you if I were pledged to another man, wed before God, I would not have been kissing you in the garden. I would honor my vows, especially that of fidelity.”
Trevor’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. Why had she kissed him? Unmarried women of society guarded their reputations and persons most diligently. Unless they were seeking a husband.
“I believe you owe me an explanation, Lady Meredith.”
Her eyes flashed, but instead of a scathing retort she gave him a smile filled with irony. “The kiss we shared was part of a wager. A wager you have now lost.”
Her tone had him tensing while her confidence made him even more edgy. “I can assure you, Lady Meredith, I make countless wagers each day. You must be more specific if I am to recall a particular one.”
She looked on the verge of shouting, but somehow managed to resist the urge to scream at him. “Last week, while dining out with my brothers, you declared, most vehemently, that a spinster harbors no passion in her soul. My brothers disagreed with this notion, suggesting the opposite. The challenge was put forth to find a spinster who would kiss a rake, of her own volition, with passion and ardor.”
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