‘Goodness.’ How she glowed in the gathering dark. It almost hurt to look at her. ‘Can we go down to the woods?’
‘Absolutely not!’ He should have anticipated this. Susan had always been fearless when it came to animals, sometimes to her detriment. ‘I couldn’t put you all in danger.’
‘Us.’
‘Pardon?’
‘We would both be in danger.’ Susan’s brow furrowed. ‘Wouldn’t we?’
‘Yes. Of course—that’s what I meant.’ Now wasn’t the time to begin acting like a foolish knight-errant. Treating Susan as if she were made of porcelain had never been a part of their friendship. But with a false panther cavorting through the copse and an emptied house, all staff apart from Lavinia and Alice given the evening off, nothing felt entirely normal. ‘Still—best that we watch from the balcony. It’ll give us a good, safe view of the wood.’
‘Quite right.’ Susan nodded, her smile a little crooked. The awkwardness of the gesture sent a wave of tingling awareness through Adam, a rush of heat rising to his cheeks. ‘Lead the way.’
He couldn’t lead the way. How could he trust his body, knowing that Susan would be walking close behind him? Close enough to breathe softly on the back of his neck, stroke her fingers along his shoulders and back, slide around to where he was hardening between his thighs…
‘Merry?’ The sound of Susan’s nickname for him brought Adam back to the moment. ‘Are you well?’
‘Well. Never better.’ She could call out Merry from wherever she was in the world, from the top of a mountain to the bottom of the sea, and he’d come running to her like a dog. ‘But you should lead the way.’
The house was dark and quiet, Susan’s figure gliding ahead of him as they made their way to the balcony. Adam forced himself not to stumble on the stairs, or take her hand and pull her to his bedroom. The balcony would do; they had stood upon it numerous times to see the sweep of lawns and woodland at a glance, to make ambitious plans for gardens or extensions to the house. It had held the two of them before as friends…. please, please let it hold them now, even with his heart in turmoil.
The evening air was cool and still as they walked out onto the balcony. Susan moved to the railings, looking excitedly down at the woodland below, as Adam moved to light a candle.
He swallowed, his hands shaking as he lit the taper. A candle code was difficult enough to organise; Lavinia had known far more about it than him, which suggested an even more mysterious past than the one he had already assigned to her. As long as Susan made no mention of it, perhaps everything would be alright.
‘Why are you lighting a candle? It won’t help us to see.’
Damn. Never trust Susan to be incurious; the woman had always asked every question she could think of. As frustrating as it was, it only made her more wonderful. ‘It’s a new sort of candle. It’s meant to keep away moths.’
‘But you like moths. We both like moths.’
‘Biting insects, too.’
As excuses went, it was a desperate one. Susan’s brow furrowed for a moment, but Adam held firm. ‘I see. We wouldn’t want to be bitten by flies, let alone panthers.’
‘Yes.’ Thank goodness. ‘Now watch the woods.’
Please let Lavinia see the flame. Please let her and Alice work as a co-ordinated team, or the woods would suddenly bristle with multiple panthers. Adam prayed as other men of his class and wealth prayed—dutifully, but without passion—but this time, his prayers were more fervent than they had ever been before.
‘Look!’ Susan pointed. ‘I think I see it.’
Adam stepped forward. He placed himself next to Susan, leaning slightly against the railings, every square inch of his body tinglingly aware of Susan’s proximity. He pretended to look out at the dark wood, keeping Susan’s rapt face visible out of the corner of his eye.
The trees rippled. A glimpse of what looked like black fur was briefly visible as the branches parted, before vanishing again as quickly as it had come. For a moment, giddy with anticipation, Adam almost believed it was real.
‘Look at it move through the trees! It’s like music.’ Susan eagerly pointed at the darkening silhouettes of the trees at the edge of the wood. Adam followed her gesture, training his gaze on her slim white hand rather than the indistinct rustling of leaves. ‘I can’t believe it’s so energetic. None of the accounts I’ve read have ever said they enjoy jumping about like this.’
He probably should have told Lavinia and Alice to be a little less energetic with the poles, but it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered apart from Susan’s joy—Susan’s delight at seeing something precious. Adam watched her finger trace the contours of the imaginary creature’s movements, another small epiphany only heightening the tension in his hands and mouth.
He had always put Susan’s happiness first. He had been doing so for so long, so naturally, that it felt like breathing. Half of the reason his house was full of animals, half of the reason he stayed in the country wrestling goats and adding beehives to his grounds instead of going to London for the Season, was because he knew deep down that Susan preferred it that way.
Was it a sacrifice? No. He had never felt any sense of loss or frustration as a result of his decisions. If anything, it felt as if her were giving himself a gift. The gift of Susan’s happiness, something far more priceless than any delights that London had to offer. London, England, or the world from end to end.
‘Are you watching it?’ There was a slight tremor in Susan’s voice. What they had done together, the unmet need of it, flooded Adam at the sound of her voice. With what they had come came what would occur later—Susan’s presumed marriage, his definite loneliness. The changing of their friendship, the breaking of it, thanks to his own foolishness and the cruelty of time.
Would they have remained innocent friends, as they had been before, if they had never kissed? If he hadn’t attended the Witford Ball that night, hadn’t seen Susan in that radiant shade of blue, hadn’t wanted to die when she’d told him of her suitor…
‘Merry?’ Susan half-turned, her brow furrowed. Adam leaned forward, forcing himself not to kiss the crease between her brows. ‘Is everything alright?’
No. They couldn’t have remained friends. They had been orbiting one another like planets, guiding one another through an indifferent universe, before some swift, silent asteriod had thrown them against one another.
‘You’re beginning to frighten me.’ Susan smiled weakly. A particularly loud rustle from the copse made her turn again; Adam stood helplessly, trying to find the right words. ‘I’ve never seen you less excited about a new creature.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’m quite all right.’ How had he ever thought this plan would work? ‘I’m glad you were able to see it. They’ll probably catch it before sunrise, or it’ll manage to slink away to a deeper part of the wood.’
‘Are you going to tell the Rotherham menagerie that you’ve found their panther?’
‘No. There are enough sheep and goats on this estate to make sure it never eats a man. I’m sure it’s far too sensible to stalk labourers when there are beasts to eat.’
‘I’m not sure. You can never tell.’ Susan paused. ‘Animals of this type are meant to be ferocious, aren’t they? Fierce, ruthless… passionate.’
There was a queer significance to the final word. Perhaps he had imagined it—but Susan was turning to him, turning again, her hand falling to her side.
‘They’re passionate creatures.’ She looked down at her feet, her voice quiet. ‘Just as doves are—are affectionate. Panthers do everything most fiercely, I imagine.’
‘Yes.’ It was difficult to speak with her looking at him. Difficult to feel normal. ‘They must.’
‘Do—do panthers kiss?’
‘... I don’t know if they do. I don’t think they do.’
‘No. I don’t think they do either. But—but I think they do similar things.’ Susan seemed to be having difficulty speaking too. It had to be embarrassment�
�she couldn’t possibly be feeling the same turmoil as he was. ‘I think they are fierce with one another. Passionate with one another.’
‘Without a doubt.’
‘Are… are people fierce and passionate with one another?’
‘Yes.’
‘And—and it would behove someone to understand at least the basic aspects of passion. Wouldn’t it?’
‘I think it would.’
‘Even if women are not meant to understand passion before they are married.’
‘There are many things that women aren’t meant to understand. You know I think it foolish, denying understanding to one half of the world.’
Susan’s voice was suddenly much firmer. As if she had made a decision, and all Adam had to do was agree. ‘Yes. Which is why you’re the best person for the job.’
Adam blinked. ‘The job?’
‘Yes.’ Susan came closer. Adam turned to her, false panther forgotten. ‘The job of—of teaching me passion.’
In the tense, silent moment that followed, Adam blew the candle out.
Far away, half-hidden in the dense tangle of Merston woodland, Lavinia heaved an exhausted sigh. She lay down her pole, holding a hand to her brow as she watched the horizon.
‘The candle’s blown out.’ She turned to Alice, who was trying to wrestle her own pole out of a clump of thorny bushes. ‘We can stop.’
‘Thank goodness for that.’ Alice threw down the pole with vigour, reaching for the small wicker basket by the nearest tree. She drew out a hunk of bread and cheese wrapped in cloth, tearing the bread in two and flinging a piece to Lavinia. ‘I really don’t see how bashing the bushes about made it look like a cat from a distance. Black velvet wrapped around a pole doesn’t make for a realistic beast.’
‘Hmm.’ Lavinia valued Alice’s friendship very highly, but the woman did lack imagination. She could imagine how the poles and velvet had looked from the front lawn of the Merricott residence—all sleekness and fury, as if a real beast was prowling through the wood. ‘Who knows.’
She hoped it worked. For all her cheerful distaste for the aristocracy, certain nobles managed to make their way under her skin. Diana Harrow, her mistress, was one of them—Lavinia knew that they were very alike. Adam Merricott, on the other hand, she viewed as a slightly incapable younger brother. Incapable, but deserving of love.
‘Well. I hope it worked.’ Alice bit into her bread and cheese, leaning against the trunk of a beech. ‘Perhaps the master will stop bringing all manner of beasts into the house if he has a wife to distract him.’
‘I doubt it.’ Lavinia smiled. ‘I think there’ll be double the beasts.’
Adam in the dark was different. Or perhaps she was different, in the absence of judgemental light. Perhaps they were both different, both unmasked, both braver now that they couldn’t see one another as clearly as they could in sunlight. Susan looked in quiet astonishment at Adam’s face in the dim twilight, at the lines and contours of his body, before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
This time there was less gentleness. There was a deep, harsh quality to the kiss, her breath leaving her in a low sigh as she pressed herself against him.
She didn’t need to be ashamed of her own hunger. She couldn’t be. It was dark enough, quiet enough, close enough for the need in her to flower, an urgent, nameless need that had had her pulling Adam closer to her still. She leaned against the wall, the cold stone steadying her as she arched her back shamelessly, needing more of Adam’s body against her own.
She could be brave here. Brave enough to do something clumsy, or silly—it was Adam, her Merry, and she was safe. Safe enough to sigh with pleasure as his hands moved over her body, learning her in a way that felt ferociously right. Safe enough to bring her hands to the collar of his coat, gripping it, her kiss growing deeper by degrees as his fingers moved upwards to her breasts.
‘Ohhh.’ Her sigh was almost reverent as she pushed her body forward, needing more of Adam’s touch the more he gave it. Every part of her ached for more of him, more his delicate, exploratory touches over her rapidly hardening nipples, more his hard thigh pressed tightly to her hot, wet centre. Nothing felt strange here, nothing exaggerated or hoydenish—just pleasure, all pleasure, a fiercely hungry bliss that radiated through her like lightning as Adam’s mouth moved to her neck, then downward.
‘Ah!’ Oh, how good his mouth was there—how right it was that he kissed her there, his mouth closing over her stiff nipple in a hard, uncompromising tug. Susan clutched Adam’s hair, biting her lip hard enough to hurt in an effort to contain the wild cry at the base of her throat. His hands were hard against her hips, moving roughly through her skirts as he pulled the fabric upwards, her thighs suddenly bared to the cold night breeze as his hot palm warmed her skin.
‘I’m sorry.’ Adam stilled his hand, looking up at her with fraught, passion-filled eyes. ‘Should I stop?’
If he stopped, she’d die. She’d melt into a puddle of pure want and drip off of the balcony like rain. ‘Absolutely not. You said you’d teach me passion.’
‘Proper passion requires reason. We’re not beasts.’
‘Then I reasonably request that you don’t stop. Please.’ A doubt assailed Susan. ‘Unless you want to stop. Do you want to—’
‘No.’ Adam shook his head, the solemn gesture mixed with the tender humour that was practically his birthright. ‘No, I don’t want to stop.’
This didn’t feel like the kissing lesson. Everything was much more urgent, much more necessary as they fell upon one another again, Adam bending his head back down to her breasts as his hands caressed her thighs, showing a surprising strength as he lifted her off of her feet. Susan curled against him, Adam’s coat shielding her exposed body as she fumbled uselessly with his shirt.
‘You’ll need to untie my cravat if you want to remove my shirt.’
‘I don’t think I want to remove her shirt.’ Susan stopped, briefly shocked at her own daring. ‘I—I want to remove your breeches, but I know that I can’t, so I’m attempting a sort of logical route downwards—’
She stopped, her words becoming a breathless, laughter-filled sigh as Adam kissed her. He took one of her hands in his, guiding it downwards, pressing it to the rigid bulge in his breeches without further argument.
Now there really was no need for words. No words were adequate for the feelings that flooded her when Adam gently pushed her hand beneath the waistband of his breeches, his rigid length hot and vital against her palm. No words could encapsulate the sudden, shocking blaze of pleasure that ran through her when his other hand moved to the meeting of her thighs, his fingers running over the damp patch of curls that concealed her centre.
Passion was meant to be low words, slow kisses. An expert, detached demonstration of allure. Whatever this was, this rushed, frantic need to give one another pleasure, was a thousand miles away from how Susan had imagined passion to be—and a hundred thousand times better.
Again. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word, but she thought of it as clearly as she could. She ran her hand along his shaft, a thrill of blissful triumph running through her as Adam grunted. Again, please, again…
She cried out, unable to stop herself as Adam stroked her again. Slower this time, his fingers wickedly divine as they coaxed jolt after jolt of sensation from her most intimate flesh. Susan whimpered, pressing himself to his palm, moving her hand again to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her.
She couldn’t be patient. Not with pleasure gripping the base of her stomach like a vice—not with the consequences of this impetuous decision nipping at her heels, threatening to destroy what little tranquility she had left. Now all she could do was curl against his chest, his arms taking the weight of her, and keep stroking her hand along his stiff shaft in the same deep, instinctive rhythm that she felt in his fingers. No patience, no higher thought, just this—just the pure, savage bliss trembling through her thighs, her calves, every nerve in her body singing at th
e glory of this discovery.
‘I—oh, Lord.’ Her voice shook as she spoke. ‘I don’t know what’s happening. It’s—it’s as if I’m unravelling.’
‘Then unravel.’ Adam’s voice in her ear was almost more intoxicating than his fingers. ‘I’m here to gather you up.’
He was. No matter what happened, he would be there as he always had been. Susan nodded, biting her lip with a gasp as Adam’s fingers brushed against the hot, tight bud that seemed to yearn for him the more he touched it.
Oh. Things were fast now, deliciously fast, beyond her control. All she could do was quicken her pace, hoping Adam would lose mastery of himself as completely as she had. A sudden jolt of sensation only added to the existing wave, strengthening it, imbuing it with the force of a tidal cataclysm as it came.
‘Ah!’ Susan buried her head in Adam’s shirt, sinking her teeth into the fabric as the wave broke. Adam’s answering cry barely registered, as did the sudden splash of heat onto her fingers. All that mattered was the ecstasy filling her body like starlight, again and again, until she was the universe itself.
After a long, long moment of stillness, of silence, she lifted her head. The intensity of Adam’s gaze, the particular look in his eyes as he held her, was so clear as to be frightening.
The moment hung as if on a very thin string. Thin enough for everything to shatter into fragments with an unwise look, a careless word. As Susan’s feet gently touched the ground again, she smoothed down her skirts with shaking hands.
She should probably look for the panther. Say something, anything, about the panther. But the beast of Rotherham was irritatingly silent now, unable to do anything that could distract them, and any words that came to mind seemed utterly inadequate for the moment at hand.
If only Adam would say something. Anything. The silence grew so great, so all-encompassing, that Susan opened her mouth half-afraid of drowning in it.
A Most Unusual Earl Page 5
