Gareth wasn’t only a duke or a member of the ton or a soldier come home from war. He was her friend, her lover. And at this very moment, Camilla understood him. Understood what lay between them.
Yes, they shared laughs and a bed, they had wonderful sex and conversation that didn’t bore or annoy her. She loved spending time with him, not only in his, or her, bed but in all the little ways they managed over these last weeks.
More than that, however, Camilla knew she’d grieve him if he wasn’t at her side.
Camilla wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck and drew him to her. She kissed him—in answer or not, she wasn’t certain. She made this move, the first move, and opened herself to him here and now.
The kiss was light but certainly not gentle, and when she pulled back she met his gaze. Camilla leaped. “Do not fail me.”
“Never,” he promised.
Gareth didn’t sweep her off her feet and carry her to his bedroom, but they did find themselves there rather quickly. Camilla had no idea what the rest of his house looked like or even what his bedroom looked like and didn’t much care.
His mouth caressed down her throat, along her collarbone. She frantically pushed his coat off his shoulders, her fingers working on the buttons to his vest. She heard fabric tear and was not at all surprised when he tore her gown, his fingers gentle on her skin despite his rush.
“I should charge you with a felony,” Camilla gasped as she tugged his shirt over his head.
“I’ll buy you a new gown,” Gareth promised, tossing her chemise behind her. “I’ll buy you dozens of them.”
Her laugh sounded breathless to her own ears, but then his fingers circled her nipples and he kissed her hard, and all thoughts of clothing vanished.
Camilla pulled back, gasping for breath. She stepped back and took Gareth’s hand, leading him to the bed. She wanted to rush, to feel the urgency of passion, the flash of it in her blood. But she also wanted to take her time, to savor ever moment.
Not only for the desire, but for all this moment meant.
She wanted to tell him all he meant to her, the depth of love she felt for him, the admiration and adoration. Feelings she never had before Gareth.
Instead she kissed him and deepened the kiss, tilting her head to get the angle just right, and sank into him. Gareth tangled his hands in her hair, tugging her closer. He slid his hand over her bare shoulders and along her exposed back.
His eyes never left hers, gentle and tender on her and dark. Focused. Camilla shivered and ran her nails over his shoulders, down his arms. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead pulled her against him and kissed her again. Hard, deep, taking and giving, it didn’t even matter anymore. His hands cupped her face and brushed her hair off her cheeks.
She sighed into his touch, her body flush against his. She poured every ounce of affection and love she felt for this wonderful man into that single kiss, exploring his mouth, his taste. Gareth exploded across her senses, overpowering her and making her crave more.
Camilla pulled back for the barest heartbeat. She didn’t care about anything save him. Gareth, she and Gareth, were all that mattered. And she wanted him.
She wrapped herself around him and kissed him back, grinding against him, and he growled into her mouth. Against her throat.
“Camilla.” He pulled back, breathing heavily.
Gareth watched her, his fingers rolling her nipples to hard, pebbled peaks. She shuddered in his arms, her hips rocking against his. Her breath hitched and she wanted to beg him. Now, now. She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, a sloppy mess, and it was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
He pulled her with him and they fell to the bed in a tangle of grasping hands and messy kisses. For a moment, Gareth stilled and cradled her against him. With his mouth on hers, hands cupping her bum, and his hardness pressed to her warm, wet softness, he simply held her.
She arched into him, wrapped a leg around his waist, and wordlessly rocked against him. Camilla nipped at his neck, the pounding of his pulse, and he snapped. Whatever control he had, however limited, vanished.
Camilla grinned against his mouth as he took and took, kissing down her body. Blanketing her body with his, he kissed down her throat, nipping the tender skin.
“Camilla,” he breathed against her.
She laid spread out beneath him—open and vulnerable. Camilla met his eyes heavy with arousal and love and need. All she was she offered him, and she knew without words that he offered himself to her as well. It humbled her. She didn’t know if she deserved Gareth or not, but she loved him. And that was all that mattered.
He kissed down her body, ran his tongue over her flesh, and tasted her nipples. She sighed and tangled her fingers in his hair. Gareth tugged on one hardened peak, and she gasped his name, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her fingers cupped the back of his head, pressing him to her.
“Gareth!” Camilla cried, her back arched off the bed and hips rocking against his.
“Not yet. Not yet, Camilla,” he chanted, tugging her other nipple into his mouth. “I intended to worship you, burn every taste and sigh into my memory. I want to make you come again and again.”
His fingers slipped into her, light, shallow thrusts that sent her blood racing and kept her there, right there on the precipice.
“I’ve no intentions of wasting one more moment,” he promised.
His fingers were rough on her hips as he held her still. He tasted her, his mouth firm on her sex as he drove her higher and higher. He sucked on her hip, laved the mark, and kissed lower, scraping his teeth then his two fingers roughly over her clit.
Camilla cried out, her orgasm hot and fast, hips bucking against him as she spiraled up and up. “Gareth!” she repeated, pleading for more as her body shook with need of him.
He moved his fingers harder, deeper. Camilla ground against his hand, his mouth, incoherent.
He brought her up again, a swift return, and just as she was about to climax, slowly withdrew. Camilla cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulder and scalp, her body throbbing. She tried to speak, desperate for more, her heart racing.
Once again, Gareth pulled back. His hard cock pressed against her thigh. She felt the desperation pounding through him and wanted him even more. Arousal tightened through her, and she wanted nothing more than to feel him moving within her.
His eyes were bright with need; his skin flushed with heat and the marks she made on him. Her nipples ached and her hips rocked against him, a silent plea. She opened her legs even wider; Gareth licked his lips and Camilla shuddered, trembling beneath his gaze.
“I need you, Camilla.” The confession ripped from his throat.
He knelt between her legs, his fingers brushing her wetness, her swollen heat, and breathed her in. He gently lifted her right ankle and kissed his way up, placing gentle kisses on her sex but quickly moving to her other leg. His tongue traced random shapes over the inside of her thigh.
Her breath caught at the tenderness of his touch.
“I’ll never be able to get enough of you.” Gareth brushed his lips against her skin, so unbelievably gentle.
Camilla trembled beneath him, her fingers gentle now as they danced over his shoulders, down his spine, tangled in his hair. But he continued worshipping her. Loving her.
“Gareth,” she sighed.
He skimmed his fingers up her inner thighs, over her hips, up her belly to her breasts. Settling between her legs, Gareth pressed the underside of his aching cock to her and rocked against her, teasing her. With her eyes on his, she trembled, her chest heaving for breath, hips rocking in perfect rhythm.
“I’ll never leave you, Camilla,” he promised. “Please.” His voice broke, and he kissed her hard. “Please do not ever leave me.”
“Garth,” Camilla gasped, and the strength of her love nearly blinded her. She wound herself around him, her hips still moving in gentle time with his. “I’ll never leave you. I’ll always want yo
u. Always need you.”
“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
She almost laughed, but it caught in her throat. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.” Then she gasped and arched into his touch, a strangled cry on her lips. “I love you.”
He breathed in a ragged breath and pressed his lips to hers. “Camilla,” he chanted. “Camilla.”
Unbearably moved, she tugged him down and kissed him. She gave all of herself in that kiss: her love, her body, her very soul, and sealed her words to him. Pulling back, Camilla wet her lips and watched him. The darkening of his eyes, the softness there that tugged her heart.
She licked her lips and tightened her legs around him. Camilla took him in her hand, fingers gentle, and guided him into her. Perfection. He shuddered and rocked deeper, thrust harder, unable not to. She wanted more, wanted that wild pounding that fired through her blood.
Gareth thrust faster, harder; Camilla took every pounding thrust with the deepest pleasure as coiling energy built inside her. They joined with such fervor, such passion.
“Come for me, Camilla,” he begged and kissed her.
With her face buried in his shoulder, arms and legs wrapped around him, Camilla rocked harder against him. Her teeth sank into his skin as she came, a long, keening sound of release.
Whatever control he had had snapped. He moved harder and she welcomed it, welcomed him. Camilla’s body moved easily against his, so perfect she felt it deep within her. With one final thrust, he emptied himself into her and she held him close.
She’d never let him go.
Epilogue
MAY 1818
“IT’S GOOD TO be home,” Camilla said as she and Gareth walked into their townhouse.
“I see we’ll be spending a lot more time in London than I’m used to,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.
Then, despite the butler standing by and the footmen bringing their trunks in, Gareth grabbed her round the waist and pulled her against him. He kissed her gently, his lips lazy over hers. Camilla sighed into his touch and wondered how she ever thought she hadn’t wanted him. Or that a quick, hidden affair was for the best.
Pulling back, she looped her arms through his and guided him to one of her favorite places, the gardens. She wasn’t ready to look at a month’s worth of correspondence and didn’t wish to listen to the cook’s recommendations for the week’s meals.
And she certainly didn’t want to contact Margaret for a list of clients.
“Duchess Strathmore availed herself of your services?” he asked and pushed open the glass doors off his study.
The afternoon was sunny and cool, a hint of warmer weather to come. Colorful spring flowers crowded against each other. Peonies and pansies, and lilacs and hydrangeas, bloomed next to wisteria and climbing roses.
Camilla breathed deeply of the scents and smiled, absolutely relaxed. She tugged him outside and tilted her face to the sun, enjoying the warm rays on her skin.
She gave him a slight smile. “Briefly. But we don’t gossip about my charges,” she added primly. Then grinned wickedly. “Or shall I tell the ton the Duke of Axton is naught but a gossipmonger who fits in quite nicely with Mrs. Darlington?”
Gareth smirked down at her and led her to one of the benches lining the garden path. “If I recall correctly, Mrs. Darlington was amongst the first to send you a congratulatory missive.”
“Hmm, she was.” She felt her face flush slightly and grinned. “I admit, I hadn’t expected the reaction we received when we announced our betrothal.”
“I know,” he said easily. “You expected nothing but doom and the hardship of scandal. However, you forget how much good will you earned with your matches, my love.”
Her heart flipped when he spoke the endearment, as it did every time he said it. Gareth lifted her hand and brushed his lips along the inside of her wrist. Camilla shivered at the touch and leaned closer.
“I had not realized you are right,” she admitted in a breathless voice. Clearing her throat she added, voice husky, “I didn’t want to bring shame onto you or your title.”
His lips pressed gently to hers. When she moved to deepen it, Gareth pulled back. He brushed fine strands of hair from her face, his fingers cupping her cheek.
“You’ve elevated the title,” he said quietly. Then he grinned and chuckled. “Every father in London wishes to curry favor with me simply to have access to my wife.”
Camilla laughed, a happy sound that made her feel lighter. “You are a very lucky duke to have found such a wife.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes I am.” Gareth kissed her again, once more soft and lazy.
No, the heat of their passion hadn’t abated. Now, in their gardens far from the cold darkness of winter, Camilla realized she knew it never would, even then. But her own fears held her immobile, as frozen in place as the grip of winter on London.
Pulling back, she offered, “However, while I see no impediment to my work this Season, I do believe next Season I’ll need to take an extended sabbatical.”
“Sabbatical?” he asked, his eyebrow raised in confusion. “Does my wife plan on planting a new garden on our country estate next spring?”
Once more she laughed at him, at the hopeful look he gave. His fingers caressed the sensitive skin of her inner elbow, down to her palm, and up again. Shivering at the erotic touch, she pulled back just enough to make sure he looked fully at her.
“No.” Camilla took his hands and held them to her still-flat belly. “But I do plan on growing a new heir.”
Gareth blinked. He looked between her face and her belly, a smile slowly spreading across his mouth. Happiness fluttered in her chest and spread warmth from her center outward. She was positive her smile matched his.
He didn’t say a word but merely lifted her off the bench to straddle his lap. Then he kissed her with that same reverence, that same softness he had all day. As if he knew her announcement before she spoke the words.
“Are you happy, Gareth?” she whispered against his mouth.
“More than you know, Camilla,” he promised. And kissed her again.
A Note to my Incredible Readers
I hope you enjoyed this next installment of my Regency series: Scandalous Encounters. I loved writing them! I’m sorry for the long wait between books, I’ve recently had a lot of family things that took all my time.
Improper Wedding: James Hamilton had had dreams his entire life: dreams of Scotland, dreams of a woman he loved more than his own life. He never expected to meet the literal woman of his dreams until he saw Miss Rose Kendrick.
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As always, thank you so much for reading!
About Kristabel Reed
Kristabel Reed lives on the East Coast and loves to explore the steamier side of historical romance. She loves all romances, but historical ménages particularly which add an element of danger and discovery not seen in contemporaries.
She loves reading, watching old movies, random quotes, and anything Cary Grant.
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Improper Duke: Scandalous Encounters Page 11
