I leaped toward the carriage. Warren strode after me in loping strides, and caught up with me just in time to hand me into the conveyance.
He lifted his eyebrows as he did. “Sitting with me again, are you?”
I sent him a sunny smile. “I didn’t think it was fair to leave you with Mary again.”
He chuckled as he followed me into the cramped interior. His shadow fell across me, cutting off the light as the driver shut the carriage door behind him. He took the seat across from me.
“Actually, she was rather lively company.”
Lively, I believed. Clearly, she hadn’t said anything to insult him, and he hadn’t made any overtures that offended her. I doubted Mary had ever been ensconced for so long with a man during which that kind of miracle occurred. Perhaps Pauline’s company had eased her temper somewhat.
I remained silent until the carriage lurched into motion and we turned onto the road. Less than a full day’s travel rested between us and London. With luck and low traffic, we’d reach Town this afternoon.
My heart pounded in my chest as the moments ticked by. Each one lost, wasted. I squared my shoulders and prepared to wage war. The kind a gentleman like Warren had probably never seen.
He raised his eyebrows at me. “You seem in good spirits today.”
“I am.” I tucked my handkerchief-wrapped breakfast safely in the corner of the seat, out of the way.
Then, timing my movement with the rocking of the carriage, I switched sides. I wedged myself into the tiny space between Warren and the wall. He shifted to accommodate me, but we still didn’t have much room. My body pressed against his from hip to shoulder, my breasts squished against his arm.
“What are you doing?”
“Seducing you, of course.” I clamped my hands on his arm and shifted it out of my way. Leaning forward, I captured his mouth. My lips brushed his for the scantest moment before he pulled away.
“That’s a sudden change of heart.”
I smiled at him. “Isn’t a woman allowed to change her mind?”
For a long moment, he stared down at me. Finally, he swore under his breath. “I’ll never understand women.”
I smiled sweetly. “You shouldn’t try.”
This time, when I reached for him, he met me halfway. He shifted my body so I laid half across his chest. His mouth on mine was powerful, punishing, and oh so pleasurable. I reveled in his kisses, every single one, surrendering myself to the passion between us.
This was the heady, intoxicating sensation I’d dreamed about every night since fleeing from his bed. His hands roved over my body, rubbing every inch of me. He reached around to cup my breast. I gasped. The sensation was too potent to ignore.
He drew back to hiss, “Shh! Would you have the driver hear?”
I shook my head as ruddy heat scalded my cheeks. I recaptured his lips to hide my embarrassment.
His hands descended to my bottom, where they cupped and squeezed until I squirmed against him. Then he worked at my skirts with little flicks of his fingers, bunching them ever higher. When they reached my knees, he broke the kiss with a glimmer in his eyes.
“Do you want to learn something new?” He nipped at the corner of my mouth.
I barely stifled my gasp in time. I nodded. “Always.”
That must have been the right answer, because a satisfied grin swamped his face. He gathered me close, his hands spanning my waist. A second later, he lifted me away from him and deposited me on the seat across from him.
“Nice try,” he told me. “I’m not sure what your aim is, but I’ll have no part in your little game.”
I gritted my teeth in frustration. My entire body was aflame from our heated kiss, and he denied me satisfaction. From the way he adjusted the fall of his breeches, he wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended.
I leaned forward. “I’m not playing a game.” My gaze dropped to his mouth as I replayed the way it felt over my skin and lips. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our night together,” I said, lowering my voice. “I…wonder what it might have led to if I hadn’t stopped you.”
His eyes darkened with a desire so potent, it seethed inside him. He clenched his fists on the seat beside him. I grinned. I had him close to his breaking point. He might be able to resist me for a moment or two, but he couldn’t deny the tension between us for long. It writhed like a living thing, demanding we indulge ourselves just a little bit more.
“Only yesterday, you vowed not to marry me.”
My breath caught. I didn’t know if I wanted him for a husband. I demanded love, nothing less. He had yet to confess his love to me.
I raised my chin in silent challenge. “Who said anything about marriage? Believe me, having you for a husband would be the worst sort of torture.”
The barb hit home. He straightened, that argumentative side of him crackling in his gaze. “Is that so?” he said. “And you don’t think I’ll be able to torture you plenty without resorting to wedding vows?”
I shook my head. “Oh no. You don’t want to play my game, remember?”
A strangled noise akin to a growl escaped his throat. He lowered himself to his knees in front of me, spreading my legs as much as my skirts allowed to accommodate his size. I grinned, knowing I had him caught.
From the twinkle in his eye, he knew it, too. He didn’t care.
He captured both my hands and laid them against the seat to either side of me. His strength pinned me in place. I squirmed against him as heat pooled in my belly. His head was level with my chest. All I had to do was arch my back.
The urge was undeniable. I did, thrusting my breasts into his face. He blew against the hardened peak, poking against my bodice. “Is there something you’d like, my lady?”
I mewled in frustration at his teasing voice. “You bloody well know exactly what I’d like.”
He pressed kisses against the slim strip of skin left bare by my bodice. He lingered at the hollow of my throat, dipping in his tongue. “Maybe I want you to say it.”
His words brought an ache to my belly. I squirmed. He lifted his gaze, his hands tightening over mine as he waited.
“Ravish me,” I begged.
“Like this?” He pressed a chaste kiss over my fully clothed nipple. The sensation formed barely a shiver over my skin, hardly worth mentioning.
I groaned. “No.”
“Then how?” he asked with a sly smile.
I wanted to slap that smile from his face. Or else, kiss it away. The latter sounded much more palatable. I leaned forward but he backed away, just out of reach, with his hands anchoring me in place.
I bit my lip to keep from cursing in frustration. A sly smile curved over his face. He knew he had me, every bit as much as I had him.
“Bare,” I whispered, scarcely daring to give voice to the word. “Ravish me bare.”
His grin swamped the cramped space. My heart pounded furiously in my chest as he leaned forward again. He graced my mouth with a sweet, lingering kiss, but his hands released my wrists. He made himself busy with my skirts.
“Warren,” I gasped, pulling myself away from his mouth. When I leaned my head back, he peppered my throat with kisses as he thrust my skirts up, above my knees to my hips. “What are you doing?”
The glint in his eye was wicked. “Ravishing you, like you asked,” he murmured. Then he leaned back on his heels and spread my legs wide.
I tried to close them, to hide myself from his gaze, but he tsked under his breath and held my knees apart. His fingers caressed circles over my kneecaps. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.
“I’d be more inclined to believe that if you directed your words to my face, not my…” I couldn’t say it.
A wolfish grin conquered his face. “Just you wait,” he whispered, his voice rasping over me.
He dipped his head to press a kiss to the side of my knee. Even over my stocking, the sensation was surprising and erotic. My breath froze in my chest as he traced a circle with his t
ongue. He turned his head to lavish the same attention upon the other knee. Then he moved higher.
He kissed his way up my legs in a tantalizing, slow caress that made me whimper. I pressed my knuckles against my mouth to keep from making noise. As he disappeared under the shield of my skirts, I let my head fall back against the squabs. Without being able to see his trail, I had no warning where he intended to touch. The small circles he traced over my inner thighs with his thumbs left me weak-kneed. Then he repeated the tease with his hot breath and his tongue. I held my breath, clenching my legs around his shoulders. When he chuckled, the rumble coiled over my legs and into my core. My channel throbbed, begging the release his fingers would provide.
He kept his hands on the most intimate part of my inner thighs, spreading me apart for him. His lips touched the bud at the apex of my thighs.
I arched off the seat. My clenched teeth stifled the squeal lodged in my throat. Warren gave me no quarter. He licked, he sucked, wrought magic with his mouth. Only then did he insert his big fingers into my channel, giving me more. I lifted my hips to his questing mouth and tongue, unable to hold myself back. My breath sawed in and out of my lungs. I was near, so very near…
“That’s it.”
His words burrowed under my skin like fire. As he removed his fingers, I whimpered. He replaced them with his tongue. He thrust his thick, rigid tongue into my slit, setting a pounding rhythm. His moan vibrated through me, mounting the pleasure. Desperate for an anchor, I threaded my fingers through his hair. He retracted his tongue. As I opened my mouth, he scraped his teeth over my sensitive bud.
My protest dissolved into a plea. “More, Warren. Please…”
The carriage rumbled to a stop.
Warren stilled, raising his head from between my thighs. Cooler air rushed in, dousing me in sensation. I clenched my legs around his shoulders, forbidding him to leave.
“Why have we stopped?” he murmured.
The crunch of footsteps hailed someone’s approach. He jumped away from me, onto the seat opposite. I batted down my skirt and prayed my hair wasn’t a bird’s nest. I barely smoothed my dress into place before the carriage door wrenched open.
With a scowl, Mary trundled into the coach.
I slipped toward the far end of the seat, scooping up the breakfast she’d wrapped for me before I sat on it. She dropped into the seat beside me with a glower.
“Mary,” I said weakly, “why are you here?”
“It appears I’ve offended your sister’s new husband. They ejected me from the carriage.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. From the look on her face, she wouldn’t appreciate it. I glanced from her to Warren as the carriage lumbered into motion once more. From the high color staining his cheeks and the way he leaned his elbows on his knees to cover his lap, he was mortified at being caught. Not that Mary seemed to realize what she’d interrupted.
I cleared my throat. My body was sensitive to every shift in the carriage, but Mary’s presence dampened my arousal.
I pasted a smile on my face. “Is there no hope of reconciliation?”
“None,” she said, her voice flat.
I leaned closer, hoping Warren wouldn’t hear as I murmured in her ear. “You know I’m trying to seduce Warren into falling in love with me.”
She arched an eyebrow at me, but answered in a voice every bit as soft. “Yes. And now I can ensure he doesn’t hurt you again.”
Warren looked on with a curious expression on his face.
“Go ahead,” Mary added. “Woo him into falling in love. Pretend I’m not even here.”
How she thought that was possible, I didn’t know. With a sigh, I settled back against the squabs and peered out the window. I fiddled with the handkerchief housing my breakfast, but my appetite had fled.
How was I supposed to woo a man like Warren using conversation?
Mary made for a lively conversationalist throughout the rest of the afternoon. Although at first, Warren and I were on edge, we soon relaxed into her company. We couldn’t rid ourselves of her, after all. I conducted no wooing of any kind during that carriage ride, much to my consternation. Warren cast me meaningful glances from time to time, but didn’t act on them. He was a perfect gentleman, for once.
Upon reaching London, the coaches stopped at my townhouse first. Mary climbed out, refusing assistance as she jumped to the ground to rejoin Francine in her carriage. As I slipped past Warren to follow, he reached out. His fingers encircled my wrist, stalling me. I met his hooded gaze. After a moment, his hand dropped away as he leaned back.
“Are you certain you won’t marry me?”
Do you love me? I opened my mouth, but the words that emerged weren’t what I expected. “I am.” My throat tightened. No. I couldn’t leave it like that. “I want love, not manipulation.”
He flinched. A resigned expression crossed his face. He nodded once, brusque. “We’ll figure out a way to call off the wedding without damaging your reputation. I’m sure if I do something heinous, the ton will forgive you for changing your mind.”
My mouth dropped open. “You would do that for me?”
His expression softened. “I would. I’m a lord. My reputation will survive the blow.”
My throat worked. I swallowed. “Thank you.”
His gaze lingered on me for a moment before I turned away. My breath seized. In that instant, I had never loved him more.
But, if he was willing to let me go, he didn’t love me. I’d failed.
Say something. Make him change his mind.
In the end, words were only words. They wouldn’t convince him of the strength of love. If he hadn’t learned that already, then he didn’t love me. I refused to accept anything less. And I wouldn’t—if he kept his promise, I would be free to accept another man who truly cared for me.
I didn’t want another man’s love. I wanted Warren’s.
As I stepped out of the coach, I accepted the driver’s aid in reaching the ground. Mary caught my gaze, a question in her eye. I shook my head, looking away. Once Daisy and Arthur emerged from the Annesley carriage, Mary cloistered herself inside with Francine and Pauline.
Emily swayed a bit as she slid from her seat beside the Annesley driver, but she managed to keep her feet. She settled on the front stair of the townhouse, her hand over her mouth.
I approached her cautiously. “Are you all right?” I feared she would lose her lunch.
“Fine,” she said in a strained voice. “Just let me sit a moment. You go on inside. I’m sure Miss Daisy is eager to introduce her new husband to your parents.”
Yes, that was a scene I did not look forward to witnessing.
As our butler opened the door, he raised his bushy eyebrows at the addition to our party. I explained nothing to him. As I led the way inside, I asked, “Where are Mama and Papa?”
“I believe they’re awaiting your return in the blue sitting room, miss.”
Oh dear. Together in the same room. That couldn’t bode well for the scene to come.
Nevertheless, I straightened my shoulders as I did when crossing paths with the most scathing of ton matrons. Thus armored, I marched to the doorway and cleared my throat. Papa paced at the mantle, a paper clutched in his hands, behind his back.
Mama nursed a cup of tea. From her wan expression, it looked to be at least her fourth.
They turned to me simultaneously. “Rose,” Papa said, his voice disapproving.
Could word of Daisy’s ordeal have spread home faster than we had? I stepped to the side, allowing Daisy and her new husband to step forward as I announced, “There has been a change.”
“I’m married,” Daisy exclaimed with a giggle. She tugged Arthur behind her with enthusiasm.
Mama blinked at the pair of them for a moment. I expected her to erupt in a rage, much like I had. Papa, too.
Instead, a broad smile capped Mama’s face. “My baby,” she exclaimed. “Married.”
She dived from the couch to embrace
them both.
I stood to one side of the room as it erupted into chaos. Mama peppered the two with questions—including his name, occupation, relations, where and when they had met, and when the deed had happened. Although this barrage of questions overwhelmed the newlyweds, Mama conducted it with such a smile and lighthearted manner that it didn’t seem like an interrogation. He scarcely sputtered off his answer—Daisy answering for him more than half the time—before Mama asked another question. Through it all, Papa managed to sneak close enough to the beaming couple to add his congratulations and officially welcome Arthur into the family.
They were so happy, so vibrant. Why hadn’t I tendered my congratulations when she’d arrived back at Lady Dunlop’s manor? I should have. I couldn’t stay cross at her, not when she was so…happy.
Would I be that way, someday, too? Someday seemed like such a far-off time. A lifetime away, without Warren. I couldn’t bear to watch my sister’s happiness while knowing that my own would be denied.
I slipped out of the room, but Papa caught my eye. He followed me into the hall, the paper still clutched in his hand. “Rose? A word.”
He led me into the sitting room across the hall and thrust the paper into my hands.
Baffled, I sputtered, “What is this?” I never read the newspaper, not even the Society Pages, as the heading read.
“What, indeed,” Papa spat. Vicious, volatile.
I recoiled.
“Look at it.”
I unfolded the paper with trembling hands, to find myself face to face with a caricature of myself. If not for the caption, I wouldn’t have known it was me. The woman embraced a man larger than herself while a shadowy figure loomed over her shoulder. The caption read: Miss Wellesley makes merry with a suitor. What will her betrothed think of her rousing ways?
Bewildered, I met Papa’s gaze. “Lies. I wasn’t even in London, you know that. The Infamy Illustrator couldn’t possibly—” Have seen. I bit my tongue.
Papa raised his eyebrows. A livid expression adorned his face. “Couldn’t possibly what?”
“Nothing,” I chirped. “It’s a lie. Even if it wasn’t, Lord Hartfell wouldn’t care a whit.” He’d recognize himself as the suitor.
How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 25
