Debbie Raleigh - Some Like It Brazen.doc

by Some Like It Brazen (lit)

  It seemed as long as your blood was blue enough, you could be as eccentric as you might wish.

  Buffoons.

  Giving a shake of his head, Edward stepped through the French doors and paused to suck in a deep breath of the fresh, rose-scented air. God, it felt so wonderful to be out of the cramped, smoky room.

  Allowing himself only a moment to appreciate the moonlit peace, Edward forced his feet forward. Although Bianca had not appeared distressed as she had left the ballroom, he had to reassure himself that nothing had occurred to trouble her.

  He would rip apart anyone foolish enough to insult or harm her in any way.

  First, of course, he had to find her.

  With a frown he glanced about the seemingly empty garden. “Bianca?”

  “Good evening, Edward.”

  His frown only deepened as the soft voice floated through the air. “Where are you?”

  “In the folly.”

  Edward hesitated a moment before moving the long distance to the back of the garden. He found the folly set in the darkest shadows and secluded enough to be easily overlooked.

  He climbed the steps of the fanciful structure built to resemble a tiny cottage even as a voice in the back of his mind warned him that this was a bad idea.

  A very bad idea.

  Unfortunately, the distracting voice could not rival the urgent need to be close to Bianca.

  It had been so damnably long since he had been allowed more than a distant greeting. So long since had been allowed to touch so much as her fingers.

  He might be a man of great restraint, but he was no saint.

  Halting at the doorway of the folly, he glanced into the shadowed interior to discover Bianca seated upon a cushioned chaise longue.

  His breath tangled in his throat at the slight of her slender form draped in a shimmering swath of satin that revealed an indecent amount of flesh.

  When she had sailed into the ballroom earlier that evening, he had nearly had a seizure. While he might fully appreciate the sight of her round, tantalizing bosom displayed in all its glory, he certainly did not enjoy the thought of every other rogue and scoundrel enjoying the view.

  Only the knowledge he was hardly likely to earn the good will of the Duke of Lockharte had kept him from tossing the minx over his shoulder and hauling her from the crowd of ogling gentlemen.

  Now that they were utterly alone, however, he was quite at liberty to fully appreciate the stunning beauty before him.

  And appreciate he did. Fully.

  At last the realization that he was already becoming hard and aching brought him sharply back to earth.

  Hell’s teeth, the woman should be locked in her chambers to preserve the sanity of gentlemen everywhere.

  Clearing his throat, he gripped the edge of the open door. “Whatever are you doing in there?” he demanded.

  Her slow smile did nothing to ease his stirring passions. “Why do you not come in and discover for yourself?”

  His fingers nearly shattered the wood as he gritted his teeth. “Is everything well?”

  “Perfectly well.”

  She did not appear to be troubled or distressed. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  He should turn around and return to the ballroom.

  Unfortunately, his feet were not currently attached to his brain.

  “Then what are you doing out here?”

  “Waiting for you.”

  His brows lifted. “You were so certain I would follow?”

  “I could only hope you would.” She tilted her head to one side as she patted the cushion next to her. “Are you not going to join me?”

  Dear God, but she was a natural-born siren.

  “I am not at all certain it is wise.”

  “Why?”

  He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I have made little secret of the fact that I want you, Bianca. Desperately. Why do you think I have gone to such effort to meet you only when I knew we would be surrounded by others?”

  “You also told me that you wished to become better acquainted. That is hardly possible in the midst of a crowded ballroom.”

  His entire body clenched at the husky invitation in her voice. How could any poor gentleman be expected to resist such temptation?

  “Bianca…you are a very dangerous young woman.”

  “Will you join me?”

  His sigh rasped through the night air. “I do not think I possess the power to resist.”

  Not taking his gaze from her delicate features, Edward moved forward, closing the door behind him before crossing to settle at her side.

  At once the heated perfume of her skin reached out to wrap about him and he choked back a groan. That maddening scent had haunted far too many nights.

  “It is a beautiful evening,” she murmured.

  “Beautiful. Astonishingly beautiful.” His tone made it clear he was not discussing the weather. Reaching out, he brushed her cheek with light fingers. “My God, you take my breath away.”

  Her lashes fluttered as if caught off guard by his sudden boldness. “Edward.”

  Of its own accord his hand lowered, drifting down the curve of her neck before following the tantalizing dip of the bodice.

  “This is an evil gown, muirnin.”

  He felt her breath catch even as she peered at him from beneath her tangle of lashes.

  “Do you not like it?”

  His hand trembled as he reached the curve of her breast. She was hot silk and honeysuckle. And he was rapidly hardening to the point of desperation.

  “Dear God, if you knew how I ached for you…”

  Without warning, she reached up to frame his face in his hands. “It can be no more than I ache for you.”

  Their gazes locked as the air shimmered with thick, potent awareness. Despite her innocence, there was no fear, no hesitation in the dark eyes. Only a smoldering need that was echoed deep within him.

  He was lost.

  A victim of his own searing desire.

  “Dangerous, indeed,” he muttered, lowering his head to capture the soft lips in a kiss of stark hunger.

  Just for a moment she seemed to stiffen at his raw demand, but before he could even attempt to restrain his ardor, she was arching against him and returning his kiss with an enthusiasm that shook him to his very soul. He groaned, parting her lips so that he could plunder the moist cavern of her mouth.

  This was what he dreamed of night after night. What he ached for even when he was devoting himself to his endless round of calls upon various Parliament members.

  With an impatient motion he tugged upon the fragile silk of her bodice, astonished to discover she hadn’t bothered with a shift or corset. His heart raced as the warm mounds of her breasts tumbled into his waiting hands.

  Manna from heaven, he inwardly groaned, branding her upturned countenance with fierce kisses before lowering his head to capture an already-straining nipple into his mouth.

  He heard her moan of approval as his tongue brushed over the hardened peak. Yes, yes, yes. His blood rushed, his erection rising to press against the button of his breeches. This woman was a fever in his blood. An addiction he was not certain he could live without.

  Over and over he teased the sensitive bud, circling and stroking with relentless care. He could devote the entire evening to discovering every curve, every soft inch of her delicious body.

  Growingly restless, Bianca plunged her hands into his hair and urged him to perform the same service for her neglected breast. Edward eagerly complied. Turning his head, he suckled with growing insistence.

  It had been so long. Too long since he had held her in his arms.

  Tugging her closer, he allowed her to feel the full force of his arousal.

  “I can taste you in my dreams,” he breathed. “So sweet…so warm.”

  Her hands smoothed over his shoulders and down to his chest. Then, shockingly, she was tugging upon the buttons of his waistcoat and pulling his shirt from his breeches.

  �
�I want to touch you.”

  Edward possessed a brief flare of sanity that warned him matters were spiraling way beyond his control, but as her fingers tentatively crawled beneath his shirt and over the rigid muscles of his stomach, sanity was tossed to the wind.

  God almighty, who cared about something so tedious as good sense or wisdom or simple logic? At the moment, he was quite certain he would commit murder to keep her hands upon him.

  “Yes. Oh God,” he rasped as her fingers brushed over his nipples. The sharp pleasure nearly jolted him off the cushions. “If you knew what you are doing to me…”

  “Do you like that?” she whispered.

  “Like it?” His voice was so thick it was barely recognizable. “I believe my body is making it fairly obvious just how much I like it.”

  Her head tilted back as he nuzzled his way up her throat. “You are so warm.”

  “I am burning.” He nipped at the lobe of her ear. “If I do not have you soon, muirnin, I shall go out of my mind.”

  “Edward,” she muttered, her magical fingers creating all sorts of chaos as they skimmed downward and hovered mind-numbingly close to his throbbing shaft. “Teach me how to please you.”

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  His hand curled about hers, pressing it against his erection. Readily she explored the hard length, the thin fabric of his breeches no barrier to her exquisite torture.

  Edward gritted his teeth, a breath away from pressing her onto the cushions and spreading her legs.

  He would give his title, his wealth, and everything he possessed be atop her and sheathed deep in her heat. Hell’s teeth, he would give them up simply to have her clever fingers stroking him to heaven.

  Thankfully—well, not quite thankfully considering the searing agony that wracked his body, but wisely—the bout of madness was brought to an end as a distant sound of laughter suddenly broke into the silence.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, he struggled to regain some semblance of sanity.

  He would not take the woman he intended to wed in a rushed, sordid coupling where anyone might stumble upon them. She deserved a night of slow, tender romance.

  Once his ring was upon her finger, he would happily steal her away from any number of ballrooms.

  And soirees, and picnics, and…

  Barely even acknowledging the realization that he had so firmly determined to take Bianca as his bride, Edward pulled back to regard her with a tight expression.

  “Bianca…this has gone far enough,” he muttered, reluctantly pulling her hand from his aching arousal. Deep inside, his entire being howled in frustration. “Too far.”

  Her own breathing was labored as she fumbled to tug her bodice back into place.

  “You sound angry. I thought you enjoyed my kisses.”

  He froze as he heard the faint edge of hurt in her voice. Cupping her face in his hands, he forced her to meet his narrowed gaze.

  “For God’s sake, Bianca, you know bloody well how desperately I enjoy your kisses. You felt the proof for yourself,” he muttered. “But my restraint is not inexhaustible, and having you so near while knowing I cannot have you as I desire is swiftly driving me to the point of madness.”

  Her lashes lowered to cover her expressive eyes. “You wish to make love to me?”

  “Yes, I wish to make love to you, muirnin. But I am no debaucher of innocents. I will not make you mine unless we are wed.”

  He felt the small shiver that raced through her slender form. Unfortunately, he had no notion if it was one of excitement or fear.

  “Somehow we seem to keep coming back to that subject,” she murmured.

  Edward gave a soft chuckle. “For rather obvious reasons. When two people end up in each other’s arms on every occasion they meet, they either wed, indulge in an affair, or learn to avoid one another.”

  Her gaze abruptly lifted. “An affair?”

  His hands tightened upon her countenance. Damn but she was going to be the death of him.

  “No. No affair. It is marriage or nothing.”

  Her eyes slowly narrowed. “That sounds remarkably like an ultimatum.”

  He heaved a sigh as his features softened. “It was not intended as such, but I cannot pretend that all I desire from you is a willing body.” He paused, knowing he was bound to bumble this badly but unable to halt the words. “You are in my heart, muirnin. I want you at my side, as my lover and my friend. I want you to be my wife.”

  She froze, her eyes widening at his blunt confession. “Edward, I…”

  Smiling wryly, he rose to his feet and arranged his rumpled clothing. “I did not mean to terrify you.”

  “It is not that,” she whispered, her expression troubled. “It is just that I do not know what to say.”

  “Say nothing for now. Just promise me you will at least consider my offer.” Softly he brushed his lips over her forehead. “I swear that I will do everything in my power to ensure your happiness.”

  Knowing he had pressed his luck as far as he dared, Edward forced himself to turn and leave the all-too-intimate folly. Another few moments and he would no doubt be on his knees pleading for her love.

  A certain means of convincing her that he had lost his wits.

  He grimaced as he headed back to the ballroom.

  Oh lord, what the devil had he done?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Pacing the darkened folly, Bianca pressed her hands to her fluttering stomach.

  Married.

  For better, for worse.

  Till death do us part.

  The words whirled through her mind with near-terrifying persistence.

  Dear God.

  It was enough to send her into a full-blown panic.

  Ridiculous, perhaps.

  She had received any number of requests for her hand over the years. Some elegant, some passionate, and some downright desperate. She had even briefly been engaged to Stephen, if only in private.

  So why had none of those gentlemen’s proposals made her heart lurch and her throat tighten to the point she could barely breathe?

  Could it be that Edward’s proposal touched her more deeply than the others? That it truly mattered whether or not he loved her?

  Oh…lord.

  She suddenly felt as if she had been tossed in the midst of a stormy sea with no notion of which direction shore might be.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she instinctively smoothed her rumpled gown before forcing herself to leave the folly. She would soon be missed, and the last thing she needed was her father charging about and creating a scene in search of her.

  Unable to do anything about the flush still clinging to her cheeks or the frustrated ache that Edward always seemed to leave behind, Bianca stepped from the shadows and onto the graveled path.

  Intent on keeping her skirts from the threatening rosebushes, she failed to notice the tall form that was leaning negligently against the marble fountain until it moved to stand directly in her path.

  “Well, well, if it is not the Ice Princess.”

  Jerking to a halt, she regarded the lean, almost pretty countenance of the gentleman she had once hoped to wed.

  Oddly, the usual tingle of pleasure at the sight of him did not materialize. Her heart did not even miss a beat. Instead she found herself struggling to disguise a flare of impatience at his sudden appearance.

  “Stephen.” She covertly glanced down to ensure that her bodice had been properly restored to order. “Whatever are you doing out here?”

  Elegantly attired in one of the numerous blue coats he demanded be specially dyed to match the color of his eyes, Lord Aldron allowed his gaze to roam over her with familiar ease.

  “Precisely the question I was about to pose to you.”

  Bianca unfurled the fan that dangled about her waist. She possessed the most ridiculous urge to giggle at the thought of revealing she had been busily luring Lord Harrington to the secluded folly in the hopes he would have his way with her.

  Not so long ago s
he had thought slipping out of her chambers to enjoy a naughty pantomime a dangerous lark.

  “The ballroom is far too warm. I was in dire need of a breath of fresh air.”

  “You should take more care,” he chided. “It is not safe for a beautiful young woman to be out here alone.”

  She gave a lift of her brows. Since when did Stephen ever preach caution?

  “I can hardly be in danger a few steps from a crowded ballroom.”

  His lips curled in sudden disdain. “There are all sorts of disreputable chaps allowed into society these days. Some of whom should be back in the country mucking stalls.”

  Damn. Bianca heaved a sigh. She should have been expecting this confrontation.

  It was only to be expected that Stephen would wish to punish her a bit. She had, after all, allowed him to court her for months believing she would be his wife.

  And now her name was being linked to another…

  “I suppose you are referring to Lord Harrington?”

  “Peasant.”

  She bit her lip. “Stephen, I understand that you are angry and hurt, but you should not blame Lord Harrington. He had nothing to do with my father’s refusal for us to wed.”

  He growled low in his throat. “It is disgusting, the manner in which he is sniffing about you as if he were a hound in heat. Someone needs to teach him a sharp lesson in how to treat his betters.”

  Bianca stiffened as a flare of pure fury raced through her. Stephen was fortunate she still felt a measure of guilt at having wounded him. Otherwise, she most certainly would have slapped his handsome face.

  “We are hardly his betters,” she pointed out stiffly. “He is an earl, after all.”

  “He is not fit to polish our boots.”

  She forced herself to count to ten. In English, French, and then Italian for good measure.

  “You do not even know him, Stephen. He is a fine man.”

  “A fine man?” An ugly expression hardened his features. “My God. I had heard the rumors that you were encouraging Harrington’s attentions, but I refused to believe them. You could not possibly be interested in that slow-witted dolt.”

  She tilted her chin. She had no intention of discussing her relationship with Edward with anyone. Not until she decided what the devil she was going to do with the aggravating man.