“You’re too young for a gown this revealing,” he murmured as his head dipped to rain kisses over her neck, shoulders, and the glowing area just above her bosom.
“I’m three and twenty and I was hoping others might find this gown rather fetching on me.”
“Too fetching,” he said, and surprised her by running his hands all the way up from her waist and over her breasts to toy with the gold trim at the bodice.
She drew in a deep breath and let herself lean into him, urging him to continue doing whatever it was he was doing to her. Something a bit like icy fire raced all up and down her body. She craved more of it.
One gentle hand still played over her breast while Lord Harry pulled her closer for another kiss. She obeyed without hesitation. Oh, but he tasted sweet.
“In here,” he said, pulling her around a corner and into a small, darkened room.
It must have been some sort of storage area. There were various items cluttering the place, including a narrow serving table stashed against the wall. He swooped her up and deposited her on it. Now she was nearly at eye level with him. All the better to lean in for more kisses, which of course she did.
It was hard to know just which glorious sensations to concentrate on most, the prickly excitement of his mouth ravaging hers, or the searing flames of his hands as they worked over her breasts. Oh! Heavens! The searing flames won out as suddenly her breasts were exposed and Lord Harry was pushing her gown low and bringing his lips down to trail kisses of the most amazingly sensitive sort, first over one breast, then over the other.
She arched up toward him, practically clawing at his coat to bring him closer. The only way possible to do that was to hold her legs wide as she sat there on that wooden table and press herself against him. He did not seem to mind this awkward pose one bit.
In fact, it appeared he was rather pleased with it as he continued to torment her with little nibbles over her responsive peaks. His hands, now, were free to move down to lower areas. She was only halfway aware of the feel of fabric slipping across her thighs as her gown rose higher and higher over her legs.
“Oh…my!” she stammered when she felt his skin against hers.
His hands were there, touching her thighs and fanning those flames until she now felt as if a raging inferno burned inside her body. She was fairly begging him to quench it, yet words were positively out of the question. All she could do was utter sounds of animal pleasure when he touched her there, at the hot juncture of her legs. She pressed against him.
He pressed back, holding her tightly, kissing her and brushing one finger over the very area that sent her practically into oblivion. Heavens above! This was something very new, very amazing. She prayed he would never, never stop.
“I could take you here and you’d let me,” Lord Harry breathed into her ear.
She nodded for him, but really had no idea what he’d been saying. Oh, but what he was doing to her, that she was completely aware of! His touch, the gentle pressure he was applying, was something she felt she could never live without. Her body responded willingly, and she was rocking against him as he held her there, enthralled.
His breath was hot and moist as he whispered into her ear, but the meaning of his words was lost. She’d become a slave to sensation, to his kisses and caresses. A wall of heat and pleasure was building up within her, and she was helpless to do anything but respond and beg him for more.
She held him tight, grasping him with hands, arms, and legs. He was still touching her, rubbing her, now coming inside her. One finger, then two. He was searching the inmost part of her, and she was bursting with emotion, with sensation. Giving up any hope of control, she pressed against him again and again, as if it would save her life.
Perhaps it would. That wall that had been building around her seemed to be bearing down on her, threatening to crush her under its size and its beauty. She struggled for air, holding on to Lord Harry and rocking with the motion of his hands.
Suddenly a light exploded behind her eyes. The fire she’d been sensing flashed through her body and the wall collapsed around her, covering her and burying her with heat and pleasure. She gripped Lord Harry, wanting to drag him down into this joyous crush with her. He was the only thing keeping her alive, she was convinced of it.
“Oh my!” she murmured when at last she could draw air again.
“No one has ever touched you this way?” he asked, his fingers still caressing in the most awe-inspiring fashion.
“No, I’m certain I would recall.”
She leaned in for more of his intoxicating kisses, and he gladly gave them. She responded, pulling him closer to her and wrapping her legs around him. She was not even shocked when she realized that it was no longer his fingers caressing her. Oh, but his manhood was hard and ready inside his trousers! He truly was going to take her here and she truly was going to let him.
All he needed to do was loosen his trousers. Yes, he was shifting now, moving his hands…but no, he was not undoing the trousers. He was…how disappointing! He was pulling her gown back over her knees and pushing himself away from her.
“By God, Penelope, we’ve got to stop this.”
“Why?” It seemed a perfectly reasonable question.
“Because we’re not really getting married!”
Somehow that didn’t seem to matter just now.
“We are at least pretending, aren’t we?”
“This was not pretending, Penelope. This was very real. Damn it, no wonder you’ve been engaged so many times already, if you go around behaving this way with every man you meet.”
“I do not behave this way with every man I meet.”
No, that was an understatement. She’d never behaved this way with anyone! Oh, but her heart was racing and she found it difficult to speak. All she wanted to do was throw herself against Lord Harry’s warm, solid chest and drag his lips down to hers again. It was as if something very awful would happen if she did not feel his skin against hers, his arms around her. Dear gracious, it was the most unsettling feeling, to want his touch so badly.
“Well, you cannot behave this way with me, Miss Rastmoor,” he said, his skin practically sizzling where he touched her as his fingers tugged at the fabric of her gown, pulling it back into place over her bosom. “For your own sake, you cannot.”
It was still awfully difficult for her to make sense of his words. Any words, actually. Her heart was still racing and she felt strangely weak all over. She leaned into him and stared into his face, hoping to comprehend what he said.
“How shall I behave, then?”
“By putting yourself together. Here, straighten your clothes.”
“My clothes?”
He helped her with them, her mind slowly clearing and bits of reality seeping in. But good heavens, what had she been doing? Oh, it was wonderful, and so very, very wrong to let him touch her that way. At any minute now she expected to feel quite ashamed of herself.
However, even as the heat inside her body began to dissipate and the chill of their darkened room began to creep in, shame was not what she was feeling. Anticipation was more the word for it, and that was probably a bad sign. Whatever had gone on between her and Lord Harry tonight, she simply could not allow herself to wish for it again!
“I think we’d best get back out to the dining room,” Lord Harry said, trying in vain to tuck a strand of her hair back into place. “Before our absence is noticed.”
“It’s a bit late for that, Chesterton.”
The voice broke into the darkness and wiped away any lingering bits of dazed ecstasy that still hung around Penelope’s brain. Anthony. Good heavens, that was Anthony’s voice! When had he arrived? She glanced up to find him bearing down on them, stalking into the tiny room with Mamma close at his heels. Even in the very low light, she could tell neither of them looked precisely pleased.
Oh dear. This was not going to go well.
“Damn,” Lord Harry muttered.
“Quite,” she agre
ed wholeheartedly.
“Chesterton, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to peel yourself off my sister this instant,” Anthony demanded.
Lord Harry wisely complied.
“Penelope, go with your mother,” Anthony continued.
She knew she really ought to do as he said, but she felt if she tried to so much as move a muscle she might crumble into a helpless little pile. Wherever did the bones go that usually supported her frame? Why were her legs just hanging limp over the side of the table where she was still comfortably propped?
“Now, Penelope,” Anthony demanded.
“Here,” Lord Harry said to her, helping her down. “Do as he says. All will be well.”
She couldn’t really imagine how he might think that, but supposed there was no harm in trusting him. Skirting carefully around her brother, she darted over to Mamma’s side. She didn’t meet Mamma’s eyes, but she could certainly feel the scowl. It was not going to be a quiet carriage ride home, was it?
“Come along, Penelope,” Mamma said. “I believe you’ve ruined yourself quite enough for one night.”
It was pointless to argue. After all, Mamma was absolutely correct. Penelope glanced at Lord Harry and he simply nodded to her. Mamma took her arm to lead her away. Anthony, however, showed no sign of preparing to leave.
“You and I will be discussing this, Chesterton,” he said.
“Naturally,” Lord Harry acquiesced. “Perhaps I should come round to your house in the morning?”
“Now.”
“Oh. Well, er, that might be a bit inconvenient for me.”
“Oh, forgive me. You have plans?”
“Yes, actually, I—”
“Change them. You and I have business to cover.”
Penelope tried to give Lord Harry a comforting smile. It seemed a little unfair to abandon the man to face her furious brother just now, but it appeared there was little choice. Mamma was nearly dragging her away. One look at her granite expression and Penelope knew it was pointless to argue. Perhaps she had indeed gone just a bit too far this time. She wondered how on earth Lord Harry was going to make it all well.
And she also couldn’t help but wonder—not that it was truly any of her business—what plans the man had for tonight that Anthony insisted he cancel. If they were plans for meeting some other woman, she couldn’t help but be a bit smug that Anthony would break them. Although she did rather hope Lord Harry’s plans were the only part of him that Anthony might break tonight.
“ARE YOU INSANE?”
Harris didn’t much care for the implication, but he assumed Lord Rastmoor’s question was merely rhetorical. However, when it appeared the gentleman was going to stand there glowering at him and wait for an answer, he realized perhaps he was wrong. Rastmoor was asking in earnest.
“Not that I am aware of, sir,” he replied. “However, I suppose when one is insane, one is likely the last person to know.”
“Don’t be smart with me. What can possibly be going on in your head, Chesterton, to treat my sister this way, right under the noses of all our friends and some of the ton’s most influential people?”
“I’m sorry, of course. I know it shows a great lapse in judgment.”
Indeed, a lapse in just about everything. What had he been thinking, to get carried away like that? Damn, but the woman had been so temptingly available for him…so tantalizingly in reach, he’d fallen apart. He hadn’t needed to go quite so far with things, yet he’d given in to her temptation and behaved like a rutting animal. And what was so damn frustrating, he couldn’t very well be assured it would never happen again, given half a chance. It seemed Miss Rastmoor was like some sort of confection he would just keep craving.
“Damn it, Chesterton,” Rastmoor began, understandably gruff. “I do understand what it is to be an engaged man. I’ve not been old and married so very long that I forget what it’s like. But, good God, this is my sister!”
“I understand that you are naturally upset, but—”
“And as you claim to care for her, I would expect you to treat her with a bit more concern.”
“You’re completely correct, Rastmoor,” Harris said, hanging his head in a great show of remorse. “My behavior is not at all fitting a gentleman worthy of such a prize.”
And now it was time for Rastmoor to agree with him. He would, no doubt, and then would take great pleasure in demanding that Harris abandon all hope of ever so much as seeing Penelope again, let alone marrying her. Yes, that is what would happen now, and he was glad for it. Mostly.
“She may be a bit untamed, I’ll grant that, but she deserves to be treated as a lady,” Rastmoor ranted. “Damn it, Chesterton, she gets herself into enough trouble on her own; she doesn’t need you leading her into it.”
“I quite understand.”
“Good. Then we both know what must be done.”
Indeed he did. The engagement would be dissolved. Harris realized he was already gritting his teeth, as if he dreaded this pronouncement as much as any honest suitor would.
Rastmoor cleared his throat, then continued. “We’ve got to set that wedding date.”
It was almost a shame that…wait. What was that?
Harris was expecting to hear something like, “never come near my sister again” or “pistols at dawn, vile seducer.” But this was not that. This was very different. In fact, it took a moment for the words to arrange themselves in his head. Wedding date? A foreign concept that needed healthy pause to internally translate.
“You mean, you are not going to offer to separate my head from my torso? To have me conscripted to a ship bound for Asia?”
“Hell no!” Rastmoor said. “I can’t approve your behavior, but it’s very obvious my sister is a willing participant. I don’t envy you the handful you are taking on yourself there, Chesterton, but it seems to be what she wants, and I see it is not altogether unacceptable to you. Far be it from me to question the workings of love.”
Love? Good God, what was the man rambling about?
“Neither will I stand in the way of it,” Rastmoor went on. “So, if you think you can possibly refrain from ravishing one another in public places for the next fortnight, I think we can manage to arrange for the wedding sooner rather than later.”
“Sooner, sir?”
“Sooner? Damn it, Chesterton, have you no self-control at all? Very well, then. We will see about a special license and you can be married within the week.”
Within the week? Married? Harris very nearly choked on his own panic.
“How will your uncle take that? I hear he’s been quite impatient for you to marry and make a proper man of yourself. You’ve got that title to think of, after all.”
“Er, yes…my uncle would be pleased to hear of it, but…”
“Good. Then it’s settled. You’re much more reasonable than I expected, actually.”
“I am?”
“I guess that should teach me to put any credit to rumors, eh?”
“Well, I don’t know. If you’re not entirely convinced I’m the right man for your sister, Rastmoor, I would understand if you wanted to hold off a while on the—”
“Nonsense. You and Penelope have made it plain what you want. Our mother might balk at such a hurried pace, but I’m sure once she has the opportunity to brag to all her friends about how her daughter married by special license, she’ll be quite content with things. As for what you and my sister choose to do to celebrate at that point, I do not want to hear about it. All I ask is that you keep things respectable between now and then. Do I have your agreement?”
Hell. So this is what his moment of weakness had won him? Rastmoor was slapping him on the back and welcoming him to the family. How was he going to get out of this? More important, how was he going to avoid an angry, scheming Penelope once she realized what he’d done?
He slipped his hand into his pocket. The scarab sat quite safely there, hidden and in his possession at last. He’d had it off her in the first two mi
nutes. Everything that transpired after that had been completely unnecessary toward accomplishing his goals. Hell, but he really was a blackguard, wasn’t he?
“MAMMA, HONESTLY NOW, WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU think Lord Harry and I were doing? We’d been out of the dining room only a minute or two.”
Her mother had been railing on and on about “scandalous behavior” since the moment they left the ball and climbed into their carriage. To tell the truth, Penelope had been hard-pressed to really listen to her. She’d been a bit preoccupied worrying about what Anthony might be saying to poor Lord Harry. No doubt he had some rather colorful words for him.
And what would Lord Harry do in return? It would be a shame that their wonderful ruse might be ruined so quickly, before it had been allowed to accomplish anything for either of them. She was no closer to Egypt, and Lord Harry’s uncle was likely to be even more disagreeable toward his nephew if he heard Anthony had declared him unfit for marriage. It was quite a pickle, really.
Had it been worth it, though? For that brief, wonderful moment in his arms when he made her…Oh yes, it was worth it. That, she realized, was somewhat disconcerting.
When they arrived home Mamma followed her directly up to her room, sending the servants away. Penelope tried to remain calm, removing the decorations from her elaborate coiffure and wondering if Mamma’s rant would go on all night long.
“I know exactly what you and Lord Harry were doing, and I’m certain everyone else has a fair idea, too,” Mamma said. “Lady Burlington herself is the one who told us she’d seen the two of you sneak off together. For more than a minute or two.”
“Very well. I will admit I kissed him, Mamma,” she said. “That’s all it was. A simple kiss.” More or less.
“And now your brother is likely going to have to call him out over it.”
“What? No, surely Anthony has no intention of—”
“No matter what happened tonight—or didn’t—you’ve damaged your reputation, Penelope. Beyond repair, unless Chesterton marries you.”
Passion and Pretense Page 19
