Though she supposed it would not matter all that much if people did see her cast Lord Rothersthorpe languorous looks. It was only what every other single female round this table was doing tonight. As long as nobody guessed they had become lovers, that was all that mattered. She did not want even the slightest whiff of scandal to spoil Rose’s first grown-up house party.
She should be grateful nobody would be able to detect how intimate they’d been from the way he was acting.
Oh, stop it! She had to get this jealousy under control. Discretion was an admirable quality in a secret lover. It would be different if he truly was her suitor, as Rose so naïvely hoped. Then she might have a right to feel aggrieved.
But as things stood, he was behaving perfectly.
Yes, he was. Throwing dust in everyone’s eyes, by spreading his charm indiscriminately, rather than attempting to corner her at every opportunity, the way he’d done the first day.
She just had to get through dinner, then put Michael to bed, then spend an hour or so in the music room amongst Rose’s guests, then speak to both her stepdaughters, and then all she would have to do was wait until the house quietened down and she could go to him and they would be together in a way he would not be, could not be, with any other female sitting round this table...
She sighed and reached for her wine glass. It was going to be a very long evening.
* * *
But at last she was walking along the corridor to the bachelor guest rooms.
It would be different tonight, she promised herself. She would not be nervous. Nor would she give way to the desperation that had her tearing off her nightgown and leaping on him.
Not that he’d seemed to mind, she reflected, a smile of feminine satisfaction playing round her lips.
But anyway, she’d crossed an immense hurdle last night, in taking a lover outside of wedlock.
Now she was...well, she was a sophisticated woman. A woman who made choices. She was not hastening to his room to try to recapture some youthful dream. This was about who she was now. What she wanted now.
And what she wanted was exactly what she had. A lover. A secret lover.
She slipped silently into his room, shut the door and leaned back against it for support. In spite of telling herself she wasn’t nervous, her knees had not got the message. Besides, seeing Lord Rothersthorpe sitting up in bed, waiting for her, covered only with a sheet...oh, but now he wasn’t even covered with a sheet. He’d tossed it aside and was stalking across the room to claim her, naked and proud and...totally magnificent, she sighed.
‘You are not going to have it all your own way tonight,’ he growled, sweeping her into his arms.
‘I...I’m not?’
‘No.’ He bent his head and kissed her with such passion she could almost believe he’d been waiting for this moment with as much anticipation as she had.
Not that she needed to believe that. No.
Anyway, she’d already decided she wasn’t going to appear so desperate tonight.
Although, in a way, she was. She’d been aroused all day, just watching him, remembering the feel of him, the strength of him. And then getting herself ready for bed had stoked the flames even higher. Undressing, washing herself, dabbing perfume on to significant pulse points, then sliding her silken nightgown over her head and letting it glide over her body, had been an erotically charged experience, rather than her usual relaxing exercise, designed to aid a restful night’s sleep.
And having him clasp her in his arms, and kiss her so passionately, while naked and flagrantly aroused, was almost too much.
In spite of having decided she was not going to appear too eager tonight, two seconds into the kiss tremors of excitement were rippling through her entire body. Her legs were so shaky it was only his arm round her waist holding her up, yet her hips were grinding against him rhythmically.
And then, as though sensing just what she needed, he reached down between their two straining bodies and cupped her mound.
She bit down on her lower lip as sensation roared through her, sweeping aside all her resolutions. And when he bent to take one nipple between his teeth, she let her head fall back against the door, uttering a low moan.
She whimpered when he removed his hand from where she most wanted it. But she would not beg.
Anyway, he was still kissing her. On her throat. The valley between her breasts. Her shoulders. And it was all delicious. If only he would...
She gasped as he dropped to his knees and pressed his mouth there—right there. His lips were warm. His breath was hot.
And she was melting, flowing, exploding into searing pleasure.
Somehow he was on his feet and catching her as she sagged into a kind of blissful stupor.
He carried her over to the bed and laid her gently down, coming down next to her. He held her and stroked her hair, and kissed her brow while she floated softly back down to earth.
‘This nightgown is very fetching,’ he murmured, after a while. ‘But it is time to dispense with it.’
She couldn’t agree more.
But instead of stripping her of the gown with the determined haste she’d employed the night before, he kissed and stroked it away, so that her disrobing became an integral part of their lovemaking, rather than a prelude to the main event.
‘Ah, Lydia,’ he breathed when she was finally naked. ‘You are so beautiful. I have been longing for this moment all day.’
She had not wanted him to talk the night before. But tonight, she decided, she didn’t mind quite so much, so long as he said things like this.
‘I have been longing for it, too,’ she felt bold enough to admit. Then she rolled to her side, pressing her naked self against the full length of him. She ran her hand along his side as she pressed her breasts against his hair-roughened torso, creating a delightful friction.
But when she would have explored his body more intimately, he seized her hand.
‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘It will be over too quickly if you do that.’
‘We don’t really have much time,’ she protested, hooking one leg over his hip and flexing her pelvis against his.
‘We have all night,’ he countered.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I dare not be absent from my room too long. If Cissy has a nightmare, she will come looking for me. And there will be uproar if she doesn’t find me.’
He frowned and was on the point of making an objection she was convinced would lead to an argument. So she stopped his mouth with a kiss that soon became so heated they almost rolled off the edge of the bed.
‘That was a close call,’ he chuckled. ‘And a reminder.’
‘A reminder?’
‘Yes. Did I not promise you that I would spend the day thinking of ways to make the narrowness of this bed a positive pleasure, rather than a hindrance?’
He got out of bed, swung her up into his arms, then sat down on the edge and planted both feet firmly on the floor.
‘I like a challenge,’ he growled, arranging her limbs so that she straddled him.
‘You are certainly rising to this one,’ she said with a gasp as he tugged her so close his erection was nudging at her entrance.
‘I would never have dreamed you capable of such naughty talk,’ he said with a grin.
‘I...I...’
His grin widened.
‘Don’t spoil it by making excuses, Lydia love. I like you like this.’
She liked him like this, too. Taking charge. Demonstrating his strength by picking her up and moving her about. Being inventive. And playful. She didn’t think many men would have chosen to look upon a single bed as a challenge and rise to it with laughter on their lips.
‘Now,’ he growled, ‘let me show you what I’m capable of.’
He tugged her closer still, penetrating her tantalisingly slowly.
When she would have flung her arms round his neck and snuggled close, he shook his head.
‘Lean back,’ he commanded her. ‘I want to
watch you.’
After only a moment’s doubt, she decided she would not mind watching him watching her. And she got her reward almost at once. For the expression on his face was almost reverent as she leaned back against the steel band of his arm at her back. With his free hand, he cupped and stroked one breast, then ducked his head so that he could suckle at the other.
While she rode him.
It was an incredible sensation, having him hold and support her, feeling the strength of his arm keeping her in place, yet having the freedom of movement to bring herself pleasure as she wanted it.
It was sweeter than the night before—perhaps because it was less hurried.
Or perhaps it was because she’d accepted there could be no future for them. She had now and she wanted to savour each second, rather than grab at it in case it all faded away with the morning light.
So she didn’t rush towards completion. She just revelled in the delicious sensations coursing through her body. Trusting that he could keep her here, on this pleasurable plateau, for as long as she wanted to stay there. She’d already learned he had remarkable self-control.
But eventually he reached down between them and deliberately began to take her higher.
‘Come again for me, love,’ he said. ‘Let me see your face transformed with the ecstasy I can bring you.’
And the pace picked up. He rocked harder against her as he drove her to a peak of pleasure.
‘Look into my eyes,’ he said.
And when she did, the connection between them became more intense, more sensual, more heated. She could see his own need rising alongside her own, as well as hearing her gasps of pleasure wringing echoing groans from him.
And when she felt the first flutters of her climax, she saw the flare of triumph in his eyes before he began to thrust harder, and deeper, and faster.
‘Lydia,’ he groaned, his whole body shuddering at the exact same moment she exploded with pleasure. ‘My love, my only...’
She collapsed forwards on to his chest, her heart pounding, her mind reeling. His love? His only? Where had that come from?
She supposed a man might shout anything at the moment of his release. She must not be deceived into thinking it was anything more by the way he was clasping her, nuzzling her earlobe, then pressing fevered kisses against her neck.
He was a generous lover. He’d paid her compliments the night before, when it was over.
But he didn’t really mean it. Or perhaps he did, right at this moment. She would give him that much credit. But a week hence, when he’d left here, he could well be in another woman’s bed, saying the same words, with the same fervour.
She wouldn’t hold that against him. It was all part of his charm—wanting to make his current lover feel special.
She’d always, always know that as long as she didn’t take him too seriously, he wouldn’t be able to hurt her.
Having reached that conclusion, she hugged him round the waist. It would be safe enough to demonstrate her delight in him, physically, as long as she didn’t say anything that would reveal the depth of her feelings.
He hugged her back, then lifted her and rearranged her so that they were both lying side by side on the narrow bed.
As soon as she got her breath back, she sat up.
‘I wish you could stay with me all night,’ he grumbled.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said with a smile as she went to retrieve her nightgown. She wasn’t going to prolong the aftermath and risk getting into some squabble like they’d done the night before because of one careless comment that a truly sophisticated, experienced woman would have taken in her stride.
He raised himself up on to one elbow to watch her getting dressed.
‘Would you not like to lie in my arms all night and wake up next to me? Share breakfast? A morning ride?’
He swung his legs out of bed and crossed the room to where her dressing gown lay. Picking it up, he helped her into it, then swept his arms round her waist and nuzzled her neck.
‘I know you have to go now, I don’t mean to annoy you by asking the impossible. But think about it, Lydia. Would it not be perfect if we could share more than just these stolen moments in the night time?’
Think about it, Lydia. Oh, how she wished he hadn’t said those words. The very same words that had nearly caused her to make a grave error, once before.
‘What is the point of even talking about it?’ The moment ruined, she tried to pull out of his embrace.
But he held her even tighter.
‘Because I want you, Lydia. More than I’ve ever wanted any other woman.’
He breathed the words into her neck. So passionately, so fervently, she could feel her resistance starting to melt.
‘When we make love,’ he continued, ‘it feels...I have not the words to explain it. It is like coming home. Or being in heaven. Or finding a long-lost dream that turned out to be far better in reality than I could ever have imagined.’
She closed her eyes and swallowed back the response that sprang to her lips. She simply mustn’t read more into his words than he meant. In all probability, he was trying to tell her that he was enjoying their liaison so much he would like it to continue beyond the duration of this house party.
‘I’m flattered,’ she therefore said, a little shakily. And she was. But could her heart really stand much more of him? The longer they were lovers, the harder it would be for her when they parted. She was already having to remind herself, over and over again, not to let him matter more than he should.
She turned in his arms and pushed away from him.
‘I am glad you find me more than satisfactory in bed.’ She smiled at him with all the nonchalance she could muster. ‘But I would prefer you did not try to make more of this than it is. We both know that you will be leaving soon, while I will be staying here. There can be no waking up in each other’s arms.’ She reached up and stroked his cheek sadly. ‘Please do not make me dream of it. That is not kind.’
He snatched her hand when she would have withdrawn it.
‘Why should we not dream of being together, Lydia? Why could you not come with me when I leave?’
‘D-don’t be foolish,’ she said sharply. ‘I cannot just run off with my lover. Think of what the scandal would do to Rose and Marigold. And then there’s Michael. Do you really think so highly of yourself that you imagine I would abandon my own son?’
‘No. I would never ask you to abandon your son. You would bring him with you, of course.’
‘What?’ She backed away, horrified by what he seemed to be suggesting.
‘He’s a fine little chap,’ he said, making a grab for both her hands this time. ‘I would be only too glad to be a father to him.’
She kept right on retreating, slapping his hands away each time he tried to catch her.
‘I would raise him as if he were my own son. In fact, I could not help thinking, today while we all played together, that he could have been mine if only I hadn’t made such a mull of my proposal all those years ago...’
She stopped short, shock robbing her of breath.
‘What are you saying?’
‘Why, I’m asking you to marry me, of course!’ He must have seen the shock on her face because he shook his head ruefully.
‘I’m making a mull of it again, aren’t I?’
‘M-marriage? You are saying you want to m-marry me?’
Her back fetched up against the door.
‘Yes, Lydia. More than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped wanting it, deep down. Even when I’d convinced myself I hated you for choosing Colonel Morgan, instead of me.’
She scrabbled for the latch and got the door open.
‘I can see I’ve shocked you,’ he said as she backed out into the corridor. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have spoken so soon. But dammit, these past eight years have been sheer hell. I don’t know how I’d survive if I let you slip through my fingers a second time. Not after tasting what our life together could be
like...’
She didn’t say a word. Just like last time, she gave him no answer.
Just like last time, he had to discern her response from her actions. And the fact that she was scurrying away from him, head bowed, should have been answer enough.
He pounded his fist against the doorframe. He’d suspected he might have trouble convincing her he was in earnest, but he’d never dreamed she might run from him, looking so...horrified.
Still, he wasn’t beaten yet. The house party wouldn’t break up for two more days. And even after that...a hard smile curved his lips. Well, he was no green boy, to slink away in the face of a little hostility. This time he was man enough to stand up and fight for what he wanted.
For her.
* * *
Lydia’s stomach clenched into a ball of ice.
He’d wanted to marry her back then? He’d meant every word of that proposal?
Oh, dear God... She stumbled over an uneven floorboard. Or perhaps her knees had almost given way. She wasn’t sure. She put her hand out to steady herself and carried on her way.
She hadn’t believed him. She’d wanted to. For one whole night, she’d allowed herself to believe and had imagined what it would be like if for once, just once in her life, her wishes could all come true.
But in the cold light of day, hope had withered and died. When he hadn’t come to visit she’d taken it as confirmation that she’d been clutching at straws. Day after day, he hadn’t been there, but the colonel had.
And she’d recalled all the times he’d expressed his abhorrence at the prospect of marriage.
And weighed them against the one hint that maybe it wouldn’t be such a dreadful chore if she was his wife against the colonel’s rock-solid insistence that she was exactly what he wanted. No matter how she’d blushed and stammered, or how frail she’d been during the first few days. No, none of the things that had managed to repulse every other man who had shown an interest had dimmed the Colonel’s enthusiasm for the match one bit.
Until in the end, she’d been convinced he was the only man who would ever actually put a ring on her finger.
But now Nicholas was saying he’d wanted to marry her back then, too.
Annie Burrows Page 19
