It was the last day of the party, and she was feeling reckless. They weren’t expected downstairs for a little while. She would do what she wanted just this once.
“And I want you,” she said, reaching for the top clasp on his banyan.
His fingers caught hers—he was frowning. Damn it, Lord Worry—the rational, careful, sensible Ned—had returned. “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She tried to free her hands. “I’m attempting to open these clasps.”
He made an odd sound, something between a laugh and a groan. “Well, yes, but—” An annoyingly determined look settled over his features. “That is not a good idea. You should go back to your room.”
“I don’t want to go back to my room.” Blast it, it would help if she had the faintest idea how to seduce someone. At least Ned wasn’t dragging her to the door yet.
“What if someone comes in and finds us?”
Fear briefly cleared the lust from her mind. Ned was right. If someone found her here with him, the scandal would be enormous. The duchess would have her thrown out of the castle; Mama would lock her in her room forever. It would be far worse than the last time she’d worn a red dress—
Oh, no. This was not the same at all. “You closed your door, didn’t you? I distinctly remember hearing a door shut.”
“Well, yes.”
“So then we’re safe. No one will come in without your permission, even the servants, and they are too busy with the guests arriving to bother you anyway.” She smiled. “And if the unthinkable happens, I’ll just hide under your bed.” Her smile widened. “I’ve done it before.”
Ned’s grasp had loosened so she was able to jerk her hands free and get the top clasp open before he stopped her again.
“Ellie, you don’t know what you’re doing.”
She hoped she heard a hint of desperation in his voice. “Then why don’t you show me?”
He laughed a bit breathlessly. “That would not be a good idea. Now—”
“Why?” Damn it, Mama—well, perhaps not Mama. That was an unsettling thought. But someone should have given her lessons in seduction along with instruction in needlework and household management. Surely this aspect of a man’s well-being was as important as having well-kept linens and palatable meals. “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? It seems like an excellent idea to me.”
His chin hardened—that was always a bad sign. Once Ned made up his mind, he was almost impossible to persuade. “It is not a good idea. I might do something I’d regret later.”
Oh, hell, maybe the direct approach was best. “Ned, I want you to do something you’ll regret later—well, I hope you won’t regret it, actually, but I’m sure it’s the thing that you think you will.” She looked him in the eye. “I want you to take me over to that bed and do whatever it is men do with women in such situations.”
His eyes widened with shock, but she didn’t care. This was her best chance. She’d be strong and decisive. If she failed, it wasn’t going to be from lack of trying. “And I want you to do it right now.”
She took advantage of his momentary surprise to open three more clasps before he stopped her again.
“I can’t.” He sounded desperate.
“You can.” She not only sounded desperate, she was desperate.
He glared at her, but she could see his desire battling his conscience. “You haven’t agreed to marry me. I won’t do anything unless you do.”
She didn’t want to trap him into something he didn’t want—well, at least not something as permanent as marriage. “Come, Ned, I’m not that naïve. You don’t ask all the women you take to bed to marry you, do you?”
He flushed a brighter red than her dress, and his glare turned to a scowl. “Yes, I do.”
“Oh.” Her mouth dropped open. She shouldn’t be shocked—she’d have sworn Ned had never been a rake—but she’d always heard men would climb into bed with any woman who offered them the slightest invitation. So if Ned had never ... that meant Cicely had been the only ...
He stepped away from her, giving her clear passage to leave. “If you’d hoped for a more experienced husband, you will have to keep looking.”
“No, I—”
“I’m sure Mama will be happy to take you to London for the Season.” Ned looked away from her. “You should be able to find plenty of men there who are far more skilled in the amatory arts than I.”
This was ridiculous. Now she had to deal with Ned’s bruised male sensibilities. Why would he think she’d want to associate with some unknown libertine?
“Damn it, Ned, at least you’ve done it more times than I have.” She crossed her arms to keep from shaking him. “Whatever ‘it’ is. I do wish you would stop stalling and show me.”
He crossed his arms as well. “Only if you swear you’ll marry me.”
She raised her chin. “I’ll marry you only if you swear our marriage will not be some dreadful marriage of convenience. I expect to sleep in the same bed as you and to have you fulfill your marital duties regularly.”
Ned frowned. “I’m not sure you should insist on that. You’ve admitted you don’t know what those duties are. You may find you don’t like them.”
Did he sound a little worried? Perhaps she should be cautious. “Very well, I won’t insist on that point now, but I reserve my right to insist later.” She grinned at him, hoping her nerves weren’t glaringly obvious. “If you will get on with it, I should be able to make a decision shortly.”
He didn’t grin back. “The first time for a woman can be, ah, somewhat uncomfortable, Ellie.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“When the maidenhead tears, it can hurt.” He cleared his throat. “There can be bleeding.”
This was a bit alarming, but it couldn’t be worse than childbirth—not that she would say that to Ned. Rather than making him laugh, it would likely cause him to run from the room. “Very well, consider me warned.” She smiled hopefully at him. “Now will you ruin me?”
That was the wrong thing to say as well. His face got that damn mulish look again.
“No. I don’t know what I was thinking. We shall wait until we are married.” He started toward the door to his sitting room. “That’s the proper thing to do—that’s what your parents and mine expect. We’ll announce our engagement tonight, and then I’ll get a special license.”
“I don’t want to wait.” She grabbed the back of his banyan before he could escape. “I promised to marry you; I thought you promised to ruin me.”
“Ellie.” He turned; she danced out of his reach.
If he took hold of her, her hope of seduction would be over. He’d walk her chastely out of his room and close the door behind her—likely lock it as well. And while she’d have the pleasure of a betrothal announcement at dinner and at the ball, she wanted more. She wanted—needed—something to relieve this odd tension that was so strong it almost made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
She not only didn’t want to wait—she couldn’t. But how could she get Ned to cooperate?
“Ellie, be reasonable.”
“No.” If Mama was right and men were ruled by their senses, perhaps she could appeal to Ned on that level. He certainly had liked her new dress.
She backed toward his bed, shedding hairpins as she went, watching his eyes follow her hands. His desire was warring with his conscience again—she could see it in his eyes.
“I can’t wait, Ned. I’ve waited so many years already. I fell in love with you when I was nine. You were a boy—you didn’t care or even notice. And then you fell in love with Cicely.”
“Ellie.”
She heard the pain in his voice, but she couldn’t stop. “Please believe me, Ned. I never wanted anything bad for Cicely. She was my friend, and I mourned her death. But I never stopped loving you—I never stopped wanting you.” She pulled out the last hairpin and shook her head. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders to her waist.
“Ever since your year of mourn
ing was over, I kept hoping you’d see me as more than a friend.” She peeled off the one glove she was wearing.
“Ellie, I—”
“I waited and hoped, but I didn’t do anything. I was a coward, Ned.” She kicked off her slippers.
“No, you—”
He was watching her hair. She would give him something else to look at.
“I was, but I’m not now.” She put one leg up on the bed-steps. “I don’t just want a husband, Ned. I’ve never just wanted a husband. I’ve always wanted you.” She started sliding her gown up her leg.
“Ellie, you shouldn’t do that.” Ned’s eyes were riveted on her hands as they inched up toward her knee.
“Do you know what you do to me, Ned? Do you have any idea what I’m feeling right now?” Her fingers reached her garter.
“Uh.” He swallowed. He might be panting just a little.
She smiled as she untied her garter and dropped it on the floor. Then she slid her stocking slowly down to her ankle and over her foot. Yes, he was definitely panting.
“I’m aching, Ned.” She peeled her other stocking off and dropped it next to its mate. “My heart aches for you, but another part of me does, too.” She turned to face him. “It’s very hot and w-wet and needy.”
Ned groaned and closed his eyes. He was still fighting, blast it. What more could she do?
“Please, Ned? I’ll beg if I have to.”
That did it. He was across the room in one stride. “Ellie,” he said. He looked—he sounded—like he was in pain. And then his mouth came down on hers.
Chapter 20
Never be bashful in bed.
—Venus’s Love Notes
Ned’s mouth crushed hers against her teeth; she made a small sound of protest, and he gentled the pressure at once.
Mmm, that was better. His lips brushed back and forth, making her lips feel swollen and tingly. Her heart stuttered, and the damp place between her legs pulsed. She arched into him, pressing against a very satisfying bulge—until he shifted his hips back.
That would never do. She tried to tug him closer—he resisted her efforts, damn it. Was he still trying to protect her? She didn’t want to be protected.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed.
She had to push again to get his attention.
“W-what?” He blinked down at her.
“Time to get this lovely banyan off,” she said, reaching for the clasps. She wanted to see—and feel—his chest and shoulders.
His hands covered hers. “No.”
She tried to wiggle her fingers free. “What do you mean, no? I thought you’d agreed to ruin me.”
He frowned. “Will you stop saying that? I agreed to make love to you, but we don’t have to remove our clothing to do that.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, perhaps it would be best if we didn’t.”
She frowned at him. “Best for whom?”
“For you.” He cleared his throat again. “I believe it is customary for delicately-bred women not to be subjected to any sort of nakedness during the, er, lovemaking process.”
She gaped at him. “You’re jesting, aren’t you?”
His brows slanted down. “I am not.”
“Well, you should be.” She went back to trying to open his clasps; he stopped her again.
“Ellie, I think you should allow yourself to be guided by me. I don’t want your sensibilities overwhelmed.”
She leaned back and looked him in the eye. “Ned, I am twenty-six years old. I may be a virgin, but I’m not some young, frightened miss. I’ve dreamt of this moment—well, not in detail, of course, since I am sadly lacking in experience—”
“There is nothing sad about that! Of course you don’t have experience. You’re the unmarried daughter of a vicar.”
“Yes, well, all right, I’ll grant you that. But I am now going to get some experience, and I mean to get as much as I can. I wish to have my sensibilities overwhelmed.” She grinned at him. “So please stop trying to protect me.”
“But, Ellie, I’m not sure—”
She covered his mouth with her fingers. “I’m sure.” She moved her hand to cup his jaw. “I promise to ask for my vinaigrette if I feel a swoon coming on.”
That got him to laugh. “Very well, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t.” She made quick work of his clasps. “And think how wonderfully superior you’ll feel when I finally recover from my faint, and you can say you told me so.”
She pushed open the banyan and put her palms flat against the soft brown hair that covered his chest. She heard—and felt—him take a sharp breath; she felt his need beating against her hands with the beat of his heart. It was both frightening and exciting.
“Or perhaps you will be the one swooning,” she said.
He laughed breathlessly. “Perhaps.”
She ran her hands up over his chest, over the hard smooth muscles, to push the banyan off his shoulders. She couldn’t quite manage to get it off his arms, so he helped. While he was occupied with that, she reached for the very interesting protuberance in the front of his drawers.
“Don’t touch, Ellie.”
“Why? Does it hurt?” It certainly looked like it might. “It’s a wonder you can get your breeches on.”
“Yes, it hurts.” Ned finally parted company with his banyan and dropped it on the floor. “And it is all your fault that I am in such a state.”
“My fault?” Ellie watched the thing bounce around. “I don’t see how it can be my fault.”
“You’ll understand shortly. Now we need to get you out of that lovely dress, since you insist on doing this naked. Turn around.”
“Very well.” She turned to face the bed, presenting Ned with her back.
His fingers skimmed over her arms and shoulders, and she shivered in anticipation.
“Damn fasteners,” he muttered. “They’re so blasted tiny.”
“Careful—don’t tear anything.” She bit her lip. She shouldn’t have said that, but she didn’t want the dress ruined, especially as she still needed to wear it tonight.
“Would you rather go downstairs now than risk your gown to my clumsy fingers?”
“No.” She glanced back at him—and her mouth went dry at the sight of his neck and shoulders. She turned to face the bed again. “Tear away.”
He chuckled. “I would hate to destroy this lovely gown. Let me see ... ah, yes. Here we go.”
It felt as if it took forever. Ned’s fingers brushed and fumbled all over her body, until she was so weak with need she had to brace herself with her arms on the mattress. Finally the red dress and her stays lay draped over a chair. She started to turn toward him, but he stopped her, his hands sliding slowly up her legs, higher and higher, over her calves and knees and thighs. They lingered on her derriere and then moved up until she raised her arms and he pulled the chemise off her completely. She was finally naked except for the strand of pearls around her neck.
But her skin wasn’t uncovered for long. Ned pressed against her back, one hand cupping her breast, the other tangling in her nether curls and curving over the aching place between her legs. He pulled her against him and nuzzled her neck.
She was trapped between his hands and his chest. The torture was exquisite.
“Perhaps you are right about this nakedness,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.
“But you aren’t naked.” She pressed her derriere more tightly against his interesting bulge, still shielded from her by his drawers.
“You think I should remedy that situation?”
“Yes. Definitely. Immediately.”
“Very well.” He dropped his hands. “If you will give me a moment—”
“Let me.” She spun around and grabbed his waistband, untying its laces and pushing it down ... “Oh.” She cradled the long, thick organ that sprang free. It was smooth and hard and warm—and moved as if it had a life of its own.
Ned made an odd sound—part laugh, part groa
n—and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her up against him from breasts to knees. “I think,” he whispered, “that if you wish to complete your ruination, it’s time to go to bed.”
She was very, very eager to be thoroughly ruined. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
“Except”—Ned stared down at her, serious now—“you will not really be ruined. If you climb into my bed and let me come into your body, Ellie, you are accepting me as your husband and I am taking you as my wife. We may be anticipating our public vows, but the promises we make to each other here tonight are as binding as if we’d spoken them in church before our parents, our families, and our friends—at least to me.”
She was serious, too. “So this is not to be some sensible, practical union?”
He laughed. “I did make mice feet of that damn conversation—I dare not call it a proposal—we had in the library, didn’t I? No, our union may be sensible—I’m sure Mama and Father and my brothers think so. And I suppose it is practical. But it is so much more than that.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, Ellie. I’d given up hope of ever loving again—no, I’ll admit I was terrified of it—and now I find myself so filled with love”—he grinned at her—“I may explode if we don’t do something about it very soon. So—will you marry me?”
She, too, was on the verge of bursting with her love for him. “Yes. Yes, of course I will marry you, Ned.”
She’d barely got the words out before he’d torn aside the coverlet and lifted her onto his bed. “Then let us proceed with the ceremony.”
Ned knelt next to Ellie and stared down at her. She’d stretched herself out on her back, arms wide, waves of brown hair flowing over his pillow, completely naked except for the single strand of milky white pearls around her neck. Her flawless skin almost glowed against his dull sheets. His heart—and another organ—clenched with love and desire.
She was perfect. She was all that he could ever wish for—his past, his present, and his future.
But what if they made a child tonight? What if in nine month’s time—
His cock drooped in despair. How could he risk losing her?
Bedding Lord Ned (Duchess of Love 1) Page 28
