‘Good.’ She bent forward again and grasped him with one hand, holding him steady as she took him in her mouth, slid him in and back out.
‘Do you like that?’
‘Devil’s breath, yes! I could live for ever inside your mouth.’
She leaned forward to suckle him again. Oh, what a wonder he was, all hardness and sinew, silky tip and satin shaft. She loved the taste and feel of him, loved the groans she elicited as she licked and suckled, laved and stroked. After a few moments, he dropped the bedclothes and clutched her shoulders, thrusting with her as she took him to completion.
As he fell back on to the bed, limp, she returned the basin and refreshed the wine glass. She was sitting beside him, sipping from it, marvelling at the power and beauty of sensual pleasure, when he stirred and opened those incredible blue eyes.
And smiled at her.
Her foolish heart expanded and she smiled back, a smile of pure joy and contentment. Oh, how easily she could become accustomed to this loving—and this man!
‘That was beyond words glorious,’ he told her, sitting up to accept the wine glass and take a long sip. ‘But it wasn’t right.’
‘No?’ she said with a chuckle. ‘You didn’t seem to complain at the time.’
‘Ah, but that’s because I knew I would insist on having my turn.’
Her simmering senses sparked as the meaning of those words penetrated. Before she could respond, though, he continued. ‘I believe a little more undressing is called for, once we finish this wine.’
‘If you wish.’
He gave her a long, slow, heated scrutiny. Her skin prickled as his gaze passed over it, as if she could literally feel his touch as his eyes inspected her. ‘Oh, I wish—to touch everything.’
They shared the glass, then Hadley returned it to the table and came back to the bed. She looked up at him, little eddies of excitement swirling in her stomach, and all her nerves once again primed for his touch.
‘First, this.’ he said, and began raking the pins from her hair, until the heavy mass fell to her shoulders and down her back.
‘If you only knew how often I dreamed of doing this,’ he murmured as he continued to comb his fingers through her hair until he’d winnowed out all the pins. Then he arranged the waves over her shoulders, down her back, and around her breasts. Hands on her shoulders, he took a step back, once again studying her.
‘Glorious,’ he pronounced, and kissed her.
She murmured in protest when he broke the kiss, and he chuckled. ‘Do not fret, my sweet. There will be more of that, soon enough.’ Urging her to stand, he unlaced her underskirt, pulled it down, and helped her step out of it. He stood up and drew her close, kissing her again, light and gentle, then deeper and penetrating. While he drugged her with his mouth, he slowly raised the hem of her shift, until he could reach her garters. After unhooking her stocking, he urged her to sit.
He knelt before her, slowly rolling down the stocking, and kissing the skin of her leg as he bared it: inner thigh, knee and the soft skin behind it, along the shin, around the fullness of calf, across the smooth arch of the foot, until he pulled it free from her foot and suckled each toe in turn.
Glad she was seated, for she would have been too dizzy to stand, she braced herself on the bed as he started on the remaining garter and leg. Once he had her bare-legged, he stood her up, unlaced and tossed away her stays, then pulled the shift over her head.
She stood before him completely naked now, but so sensitised by his touch that she felt no embarrassment. Only an exuberant confidence, from seeing the need blazing in his gaze, that he found her desirable, and anticipation for what he would do next.
In answer, he eased her on to the bed and against the pillows. ‘Close your eyes, my sweet, and just feel,’ he murmured.
And so she did. He began at her temples, kissing and stroking lightly, over her cheeks and lips, her ears and chin. He fisted his hands in her hair, then brushed the silky strands against her shoulders, her arms before he nibbled and kissed them. Slowly he progressed lower, teasing with the satin brush of her hair, tantalising with the soft pressure of his mouth and the wetness of his tongue.
She was breathing hard again, feeling the climax building, by the time he reached her waist, her hipbones, the round of belly. But to her dismay, he bypassed her aching centre, instead moving down her legs, her knees, her ankles and toes.
She pulled at his hands, trying to urge him higher, but he would not be hurried. Gently detaching himself, he returned to his slow transit up and around her legs, setting off delicious vibrations in nerves she didn’t know she possessed.
And then, finally, his mouth moved to the tender skin of her inner thighs. At his urging, she let her legs fall open, giving him full access to the most intimate part of her. When she thought she could stand the wait no longer, he at last moved his mouth to her.
He parted the nether lips and licked delicately at the little bud within. Frantic, she twisted her head from side to side, lifting her hips to bring him closer. Then, with tongue and fingers, he traced the path into her slick passage.
So near to the precipice was she that only a few strokes would have been enough to send her spinning into the free fall of climax. But this time, she wanted them to reach that pinnacle together. Rolling away from him, she sat up, then pulled him to lie down beside her, his head towards the bottom of the bed, then lay back down with her own head on the pillow.
Understanding her intent, he eagerly returned to tasting her, while she slid her hand under the waistband of his breeches to clasp the erection now within her reach. Stroking him while he laved her, the two of them mingled their cries as they reached the summit together.
For a long, sweet time, they lay panting, spent. Recovering more quickly than Maggie, Giles crawled up to lay on the pillow, then repositioned her with her head resting on his shoulder, her arm across his bare chest, and her leg wrapped around his. After tossing the rumpled blanket over her nakedness, he kissed the tip of her nose and promptly fell asleep.
Lying in his arms watching him, content, replete, Maggie realised she was feeling...happy. Something she hadn’t experienced in so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was like.
That realisation should have terrified her, and maybe it would, later. But for this glorious moment, in the wondrous present, she would simply enjoy it as a gift.
All too soon, Giles stirred. She held her breath as his sleepy eyes opened—would he shatter this magic by tossing back the covers, throwing on his clothes and bidding her a cheery goodbye as he hustled out to his meetings?
She saw that moment recognition of time, place—and his companion—register in those bright blue eyes. Which then widened, as a smile warmed a face alight with what she didn’t dare call tenderness.
‘My sweet lady,’ he murmured. ‘My very dear Lady Margaret.’
Despite her efforts to restrain it, her own heart swelled with an answering emotion. ‘After this morning, I think it should be “Maggie”, don’t you?’
‘My very dear Maggie,’ he repeated, and pulled her head down for a kiss—gentle, caressing almost—cherishing. As he released her, he said, ‘I wish we’d awakened in the Outer Hebrides.’
Puzzled, she angled her head at him. ‘You have a fondness for cold Scottish islands?’
He chuckled. ‘No, my love! But if we were in the Hebrides, I could resume the delightful business that has occupied us this morning. Since we are unfortunately in London, I suppose I must finally bow to my responsibilities and get back to work. I can only hope Davie hasn’t already sent out a search party, certain he’s going to discover my cold, dead body in some dark alley somewhere.’
‘You seldom miss meetings?’ she guessed.
‘I’m normally the first to arrive and the last to leave. But this morning I had a more pressing engagem
ent. Although, to make up, I probably will be the last to leave.’
Reluctantly, she slid away and off the bed. Now that the loving was over, she should feel awkward, standing completely naked before a man she knew so slightly.
But he had loved her so well and so tenderly, all she felt was warmth and gratitude.
Tracking down his shirt, she brought it over to the bed, while he moved to sit up and lifted his arms for her to slip it back over his head. ‘The cravat is probably hopeless,’ he advised as she brought that over. ‘I’ll have to stop by my rooms to change out of riding gear anyway, before I go to Parliament. Though I heartily approve of my valet’s current uniform,’ he said, leaning forward to press a quick kiss on each bare nipple. ‘Can I help you, or would you rather call your maid?’
‘I’d appreciate the help. I’m sure the staff already has an accurate notion of how we spent the morning, but I’d rather be dressed when I face them. My lady’s maid, who’s been with me for years, would probably freeze any gossip, were she here, but unfortunately she’s at my father’s house. And incidentally, since I left to ride at dawn, she’s probably wondering if she should send out a search party to look for my cold, dead body.’
As she talked, she tossed on her shift, gathered up stays and stockings, and went to the clothes press to extract her habit, and Giles stepped closer to help her into them. He made an excellent lady’s maid; Maggie refused to let herself speculate how he’d become so skilled.
Once she was dressed, he took one hand and kissed it. ‘Will the servants gossip?’
‘I don’t think so. They’ve all of them been with me a long time, and I like to think they are fond of me. Besides, if it comes to it, I’m a woman of age with my own household. I’m not accountable to anyone for my conduct.’
‘I’d prefer there weren’t any salacious talk, though.’
‘No, I wouldn’t imagine that titterings about a tryst with a woman from the wrong party would help the image of—’
‘I don’t care about me!’ he interrupted. ‘But I should definitely take exception if anyone were to malign your reputation.’
‘Thank you, that is kind.’ The euphoria was slipping away, and much as she didn’t want it to end, she had to ask. ‘Will I...be seeing you again?’
His expression turned incredulous. ‘Did you truly think one time would be enough?’
His reassurance delighted her much more than it should. ‘I didn’t know. As I told you, I’ve never done this before. I didn’t know whether, once the...novelty was over, you would want to...continue.’
He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘I cannot wait to touch you again. When can I return?’
She laughed. ‘I don’t know. I’ll have to check my schedule, as I imagine you will need to consult yours. Truly, I didn’t plan for this to happen today.’
‘I heartily approve of your spontaneous idea.’
‘Not totally spontaneous. Following through on the desire was, perhaps. But I’d been thinking about it for a long time—probably from the first moment I met you. I tried to talk myself into being prudent and responsible, but every time I see you, prudence and responsibility seem to fly out the window—and in flies this great, fierce bird of need that grips me in its claws and won’t let go.’
He leaned over to kiss her again. ‘Here’s to great, fierce birds. I hope you keep a whole flock of them.’
She shook her head. ‘You must think me absurd.’
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘I think you delightful. Whimsical. Fascinating. The most glorious lover who has ever touched me. But now I must go. Do check your schedule and send me a note. Number Six, Albany. And make it soon.’
‘Number Six, Albany,’ she repeated.
He pulled her to him and gave her one last kiss, deep, cherishing, possessive, powerful. ‘Oh, yes—soon!’ she said, and let him go.
Chapter Nine
Maggie stood in the doorframe, watching Giles as he descended the stairs, then walked back into the bedchamber to pour herself another glass of wine.
Goodness, two glasses of wine before luncheon! But then, the occasion deserved it. She’d just propositioned a man she knew very little, had him come to her house in broad daylight, and spent the morning making love to him while the staff went about their duties and her cousin snored, blissfully unaware, in a nearby bedchamber.
What had come over her?
She’d known Robbie all her life, the transition from best friends to lovers as natural and gradual as growing older. She’d known Sir Francis for several years, been engaged for several months, and even then, only succumbed to his urgings when the protection of a wedding ring loomed. Now, she’d just taken to her bed, if not to ultimate surrender, a man she’d met...three times?
Maggie shuddered. By the world’s measure, she’d be judged a woman of easy virtue, even a harlot. And yet...and yet.
It was more than just the powerful physical connection. Something about him, his passionate support of the causes he found important, and his willingness to devote his life to them, seemed to mesh so well with her ideals of sacrifice and service, making him seem like a friend of long acquaintance, rather than a man she’d barely met. It felt right and natural to sit across the table from him and debate politics; to lie in his arms and thrill to his caresses; to pleasure him and bring him to bliss.
She wanted to do all those things again and again.
A little chill of foreboding cooled the euphoria of satiation. This could end very badly. There was no question Giles Hadley saw this as a pleasant but temporary, short-term liaison. It would be all too easy for her to want much more.
She didn’t dare let herself want more.
What was it that sailors had once said about voyaging towards the edge of the known world—‘beyond here be dragons’? Having dared to venture into something she’d never experienced, behaving in a way she wouldn’t previously have considered possible, she might well learn the bitter truth of that maxim.
But having had just one taste of Giles Hadley, she was not about to stop now.
* * *
An hour later, properly garbed in her habit, Maggie rode back to her father’s town house, trying out, during the transit, various explanations for her very tardy return.
A wasted effort, as it turned out. Her maid sat in her bedchamber, bent over some needlework, but before she could utter a syllable, Polly looked up and exclaimed, ‘Lord and stars, missy, what do you think you’re doing?’
Damning the guilty flush heating her face, Maggie gazed at the maid who’d been with her since she was a child at Huntsford and Polly a junior nursemaid. No point trying to deny what the maid already knew, not that she had intended to waste any effort trying to conceal an affair that was probably already the focus of speculation below stairs at Upper Brook Street. ‘I didn’t imagine I could hide anything from you,’ she said with a rueful laugh. ‘But I didn’t expect you’d find out this soon. Who told you?’
The maid raised her eyebrows. ‘You leave at dawn for a ride that normally takes you an hour, and are gone four. Don’t you think I sent that worthless groom back to look for you, and with a flea in his ear for leaving you alone? When he didn’t find you, he stopped by Upper Brook Street—doubtless to delay having to return and report you missing! They told him you were...entertaining a gentleman. Now, you needn’t be worrying the news will get out anywhere but this room and Number Four! We’ve all of us seen you go through more heartache than one body should have to bear, and we’d none of us add to it by tarnishing your name. But gracious, child, what are you thinking?’
‘I suppose you want me to tell you I wasn’t thinking, but that’s not exactly true.’
With her own mother ill for much of Maggie’s life, confiding in Polly had become a childhood habit she’d never outgrown; the wise but sharp-tongued woman had b
een her supporter and comforter from the days of scraped knees to times of devastating loss. As Maggie trusted she would be now, whether or not she approved of her rash actions.
‘Oh, Polly, I’ve missed Robbie for so long and so keenly. In some ways, Mr Hadley couldn’t be more different than the quiet country gentleman I meant to spend my life with. But he does make me...feel again! The same sort of excitement and delight in life that Robbie did. And the passion. I don’t expect to find again a love like ours, but can’t I enjoy myself a little, before I dwindle into an old widow?’
‘I’ve no objection to you finding pleasure—who deserves it more? But there’s no reason you couldn’t “enjoy yourself” by choosing another fine gentleman to marry—’ She held up a hand, forestalling Maggie’s protest. ‘I know, I know. But even if the husband wasn’t the equal of your Robbie, he could provide you with the passion you seek—safely. How can you even think of risking—?’
‘I’m not! I’m hardly likely to forget what the consequences would be for conceiving a child out of wedlock, and I have no more desire to disappoint Papa and tarnish my name than you would have to see it. I was intimate with Mr Hadley, but in a...controlled way. We’ll not do anything that will risk my becoming with child.’
The maid shook her head. ‘I’ve heard of them “French letters”, or whatever it is the apothecaries call what decent people ought not to use, but nothing will truly stop a babe. I don’t doubt this Mr Hadley is as charming as the devil himself, but it’s still not worth the risk, child.’
‘We’re not using a “French letter”. We are...limiting our intimacy to include only what will avoid any chance of conception,’ Maggie explained, her face flaming, unable to describe it any more plainly even to a woman who knew every mishap she’d ever suffered and every mistake she’d ever made.
It took a minute for Polly to puzzle it out. ‘You mean you’re not letting him—’
‘No. As long as I avoid the ultimate act, why shouldn’t I take some pleasure, when, after so long alone, I’ve discovered a man who intrigues me, whom I intrigue in turn?’
Forbidden Nights with the Viscount Page 11
