Barlow held up the chosen waistcoat. “Gambling until all hours did you no service, my lord.”
“Perhaps not, though it is certainly a way to pass time.” Langsdene frowned at his shirt collar. Watching his reflection in the mirror, he carefully wrapped his starched cravat around his neck. He made his first fold and slowly lowered his chin. Too untidy. His second try with a fresh cravat achieved the Trone D’Amour he wanted. “Lately, I have wondered if the depictions of me in the newspaper are as far off the mark as I thought.”
Barlow shot him a careful glance and held out Langsdene’s jacket.
The jacket donned, his hat brushed and handed to him, he left, arriving at Winsome’s front door within ten minutes. He told the butler he would wait outside with his horse. The man nodded and Langsdene dillydallied on the restless thoroughbred for a surprisingly short time until Winsome’s well set-up chestnut mare pranced down the street, arriving from the mews behind the house. He refrained from glancing at his fob watch. “Very prompt, Miss Carsten. I commend you.”
“Your imperious summons was expected, my lord,” Winsome said, her smile a tease. She wore a smart habit of dark blue with military braid across the front. Her top hat sat at the rakish angle he preferred on her smoothly dressed hair.
“No sooner ordered, than delivered.” He suspected that his admiration showed in his gaze, “If you have no objection to a change of venue, I thought we should head to Green Park.”
She nodded. Her posture straight and her hands light on the reins, she ranged beside him. He experienced lightness in his chest and a relaxation of his facial muscles. Even Soldier, his horse, began to step jauntily. If this was happiness, he wanted every second to last.
The mare flirted with Soldier all the way, dancing sideways, taking offence at the early morning shadows, and tossing her mane. Winsome’s horsemanship was skilled and instinctive. She managed to keep up a light conversation while holding her horse in check. In the park, she let the mare have her head and he chased her with a whoop through the trees. When he caught her at the end of a long twisted path, her burst of triumphant laughter brought out a smile on his face, too. He had no recollection of ever before enjoying coming second in a race.
A long glance at her caused his body to heat with anticipation. He edged his horse to hers, nose to tail, and reached over to kiss her lovely lips. “That’s your prize for the win.”
She kissed him back. “That’s your prize for courteously coming second.”
His voice deepened. “I’m going to have to lock you in a cupboard with me and deal with you properly, Miss.”
“Well, we can’t use a cupboard in my house. Someone is bound to notice if your horse is waiting outside for you.”
Somehow he lost his ability to breathe evenly. She knew what he meant and she had consented. “My house would be happy to accommodate you.”
“Now?” she asked in a tremulous voice. “I have barely eaten breakfast.”
“In bed at night would be perfect but I doubt either of us could arrange that at this stage. Perhaps we could dismount and tie our horses over there to discuss this.”
“Is discuss the word you mean?” Her eyes filled with gleaming humor and her generous mouth curved, showing that tiny dimple on one side.
“You may smile, but I need more kissing. It’s too early yet for the nursemaids and their charges, and the smart people will be impressing each other in St. James’ park.”
“You seem to be rather well versed in assignations.”
“I’ve taken note of the hints tossed out by others. Kissing ladies in a public park is not one of my hobbies but I can make an exception for you. Because if I can not kiss you within the next few moments, I will ... “
“Expire?”
“Grow rather more devious.”
“Where is the romance in that?”
“Are you looking for romance?” he asked, surprised. “I’m not sure I have a romantic bone in my body. I’m far too practical for that. I want you, Winsome. You have put joy in my life, and a form of anticipation, but my feelings for you are more desirous than romantic. I doubt I could write poetry to you but I could kiss you all over without pausing for breath.”
“Would I rather have a posy of violets, or kisses?” She tapped her fingers on her cheek as if deciding, but her smile had grown mysterious and the pink of her cheeks had warmed.
“You could have both, but that’s easier said than done. I have entertained certain other women in my house, but never a lady. I don’t intend to shock my servants.”
“But, if I were a certain other women, they wouldn’t be shocked?”
“They don’t imagine I have plans to ruin a lady. Their expectations of me are higher than you might assume.”
“I don’t expect to be ruined. I expect to be hidden and anonymous.”
“You couldn’t come to my home without a chaperon.”
“Of course I could. I am beyond the age of requiring a chaperon.”
He was intent on marrying her, but if she saw no need to wait for his proposal, he was quite prepared to indulge her. “Perhaps I have a book in my library that you wish to borrow?” His chest tightened with anticipation.
Her cheeks colored. “I’m sure you do. Have you bought a copy of Frankenstein yet?”
“You’ve seen the paper this morning, I presume.” He paused, trying to read her expression.
“I thought it was a very nice drawing of you.” She lowered her gaze.
“The artist is skilled, there’s no doubt of that, but he is very wrong. I certainly approve of industrialization.” His heart thumped, hoping she would accept his explanation.
Her eyes met his. “I don’t think the artist was hinting that you may not be. I thought rather that you looked bored by the fights in parliament.”
“What about the woman in my palm? She is supposed to represent my shallow thoughts.”
“She is supposed to represent your attractiveness. I see that as a compliment.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Of what interest is my attractiveness to the general public? Who could possibly be interested in that?”
“Your attractiveness makes you of interest to the general public. Therefore, you may be used as the spokesman for them.”
“I’m an Earl—hardly a member of the general public. The working class couldn’t give a toss about my opinion.”
“The working class doesn’t read the daily news.”
He stared at her, recalling that long ago, her friends used to call for her opinion on all subjects and then take them up as their own. If she thought he was being used as a substitute for the general public, others might think so, too. Perhaps he shouldn’t be so tense about being used, after all. He drew in a deep breath. “I suppose, since the first caricatures of me were so unflattering, and I was depicted as a seducer of innocent maidens, I did not notice my change in roles.”
“Best not to find offense where none was intended.”
He decided to mull the matter. He smiled at her. “I shall take your advice but I wish this usage of me would stop. Anyone else would be far more interesting than I. I can’t imagine why I was chosen.”
“Don’t be so modest, my lord. Anyone would choose you first.”
He smiled at her comment. Not that he cared who did or did not choose him first. The fact that she had chosen to be with him was enough for now.
CHAPTER 9
Winsome decided she had told enough lies to John. She would tell no more, even if he ended up hating her. Then again, she also wouldn’t tell him the truth about the caricatures either. She was doing her best to ease him out of the newspaper but she couldn’t suddenly stop when he had only recently begun to investigate. He would see the connection. In the meantime, she wanted to make love with him in case the whole thing blew up and her last chance of losing her maidenhood vanished.
She watched his groom take her mare with John’s into his stables, and then John escorted her across the lane to the back of hi
s mansion. He walked her through a small kitchen garden and a short path lined with blossoming fruit trees. Petals scattered as they passed. Now that she had cooled off a little after the exercise, the chill of the morning air caused her cheeks to tingle. Her throat dried. Did she really mean to begin an affair with the notoriously rigid Lord Langsdene?
The narrow stone path divided, one side leading to the service area of the house and the other widening into a small but perfect garden. Birch and elder trees shielded the property from the residence next door. Behind the box hedges toward the front of the house, a rose garden, whose bushes had suffered the worst of the frosts, looked ready to take on spring with multiple blooms.
The stone path ended with two steps up to a double set of glass paned doors. “The library,” Langsdene said, opening the door for Winsome.
“I’m beginning to think you have a library fetish.” She stepped into the room, slowly stripping off her gloves.
“If I hadn’t, I am about to. Please make yourself comfortable.” He strode over to the door, which opened into a bright hallway. “Thomas. I am not at home to callers,” he said to the invisible Thomas, who was perhaps a footman. “I have a visitor and I am not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”
“Yes, my lord.”
John arrived back into the room minus his hat and his gloves. He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at her with an unholy gleam in his eyes. “I should have ordered a tea tray. I can’t offer you anything other than brandy.”
“Perhaps that would bolster my courage.” She sat on the edge of his comfortably cushioned couch, which would be perfect to lie on with a wonderful book, or even a wonderful earl. At this stage, she imagined she could choose either.
“We don’t have to do anything, Winsome,” he said in a careful voice, confirming her thoughts. The sunlight emphasized the severe angle of his jaw and added gold to the tips of his spiky eyelashes. “I would be perfectly happy just to hold you in my arms. You won’t require courage to bear that, I hope.”
“I’m not sure. We will have to experiment.”
He laughed and pulled her up to stand beside him. “You are incorrigible.” His warm breath tickled across her cheek as he leaned forward and carefully took off her hat, which he placed on a side table, while she stripped off her gloves.
When she raised her gaze, his extraordinarily attractive smile caused a flutter inside her chest. She stepped into him and raised her hands to his shoulders, settling her fingers under the collar of his jacket. A breath away from him, she noted the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. His eyes hooded and his lips met hers.
Her heart began to thud. His mouth softly pressed against hers, testing her response, which was careful. Then, his hands slid down to her waist and settled against the jut of her hips. He moved his mouth to experiment with another angle, taking her lower lip with both of his. The heat of his skin matched hers. Now he was able to test inside her mouth. She wanted to do the same thing to him and he let her explore a little way before taking his delicious kisses to beneath her ear. His eyelashes flickered against her cheek.
Because she couldn’t help herself, she wrapped her elbows around his neck and pressed the entire length of her body against him. This time she understood his reaction. To have a part of him show an avid appreciation of her shortened her breath. She wanted to grab him tightly and press kisses all over his face but suspected a heady show of passion would daunt him. She seemed only to be able to breathe in short spurts. She had never imagined being weak with desire but she wanted him so badly that she clutched her fingers together to make sure he didn’t disappear.
“Winsome,” he said barely above a murmur. “I’m afraid we will have to stop before I won’t be able to.”
“I don’t want you to. If you can’t perform without a cupboard to hide in, then let’s find a cupboard.” Her indrawn breath sounded like the beginning of a whirlwind but merely demonstrated the state of her emotions.
He laughed softly. “I can perform right here and now, if this is what you want but you are wearing quite an amount of clothes.”
“There must be something we can do about that.”
“Let’s start with your jacket.” He didn’t wait. He slipped his hand between them and began working at the braid fastenings. “Your dresser must be the soul of patience.”
“You are clearly not used to dressing yourself. Here. You slip this under this.” She oughtn’t to frighten him with her desperation. After she opened the first fastening at her neck, he managed the next three with a fair amount of speed, leaving her with her stays on view.
“Now you,” he said, leaning back with a grin. “Show me your undressing skills with my jacket.”
“Not so easy, my lord. You are standing too close.”
“I can never be too close.” His gaze rested on her face with a certain amount of indulgence mixed with desire. Nevertheless, he undid his own jacket and waistcoat speedily. “I’ve had more practice than you.”
“I have no doubt you have undressed yourself for many females before,” she said breathlessly, wishing she didn’t believe this.
“Winsome, don’t be so quick to leap to conclusions. I visit the boxing salon daily and I undress myself there.” He quickly divested himself of his outerwear, flinging the jacket and waistcoat to the far corner of the room, standing in his white shirt and cravat with expectation on his face.
Assuming she needed to fling her jacket in the same direction, she tried to edge out her arms, but the tailoring was superb and without help she could not manage. Fortunately, he obliged, but he treated her clothes with more reverence than his own, placing the garment on the back of the couch. This action moved him into her again and he took her into his arms for a long and tender kiss.
This time, with less fabric between them, she noted the refreshing scent of his shaving soap, the heat of his skin, and the heavy beating of his heart. His lips covered hers while he held her against his firm body. She clenched her fingers in his nape hair, which caused him to close a palm over each of her buttocks and hold her hard against him. A groan of pleasure issued from her throat.
His breaths began to rasp. He circled his hips against hers, bent a little, lifted her a little, and his hard thick truncheon pushed the fabric of her skirts between her legs. In no way did this ease her throbbing ache. She stepped back into the seat of the couch and in a trice she was lying beneath him on the soft cushions. She took a handful of his hair, and he lifted his head to stare into her surprised face. “Too fast?” he asked, his smile crooked.
She couldn’t answer. In response she wriggled her skirts up, breathing as if each puff of air might be her last.
“Winsome.” His voice sounded soft and low. “You are wickedly wonderful and I’m faulty enough to take whatever you offer. Will this be your first time?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does. It may hurt and not be quite the delight you expect.”
She considered lying but she had already promised herself that she would stop. “Yes. It will be the first time.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Am I so clearly inexperienced?”
“My sweet delight, you are clearly willing and I am but a man. However, I don’t want your first experience to be a hurried, furtive thing. I want you to know the joy before you know the pain.” He flattened his palm over her lower belly, thinly covered by her chemise at best, and took her lips again. His hand slid lower and cupped her female parts.
She eased open her legs, not willing to be embarrassed by his touch. The sooner she could get her deflowering over and done with, the sooner she could enjoy being a fallen woman. He opened her slit and her legs shook when his fingers slid across a certain sensitive area. Having tested this, he used his thumb there until she writhed in ecstasy, holding back her urge to whimper in a way that begged for more.
He took her mouth again. “No, no, no,” she whispered against his lips. “No, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” H
er lower body seemed to be throbbing and if she could have forced him to use her harder, she would have. She nipped at his lips and dug her fingers into his back until suddenly her body bucked. She unfurled with a long cry of relief. Surprised, but exhausted, she lay staring up at him. “It didn’t hurt.”
His lips curved. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Did I do something wrong?” She hardly cared, almost unable to keep her eyes open.
“You passed the first test,” he said onto her cheek. “You now know you will enjoy making love.”
“Did you enjoy doing that to me?”
“Emotionally, certainly.”
“We didn’t make love, did we?” She sat up, staring at her naked legs and the man who lay beside her with a clearly defined truncheon in his trousers. “I suppose this is rather like that time in the linen cupboard, only this time it’s I who have been thoroughly explored.”
“Women have many other places that also need exploring. Men only have the one.”
She took in this information. “Should I explore you?”
“Do you want to?”
“I do, but last time you took your cock, can I say cock, away? I thought I may have hurt you and that’s why you barely spoke to me again.”
He swallowed. “I was a little embarrassed. I knew I shouldn’t have misbehaved with you. But you didn’t hurt me. I didn’t want to spend in your hand.”
This interesting talk caused an area between her legs to throb, a very satisfying feeling that tempted her to ask, “What happens when you spend?”
“It’s messy for you and a relief for me.” He sat up, and swiveled around. His booted feet hit the floor, and he glanced back at her. “Will we be able to dress you so that you pass inspection at home?”
She pulled down her petticoats, staring at him. “I only need to don my jacket, which is easy enough.” In the nicest way, he had told her he had done with her, which was the same as in the cupboard. With no idea how she could hold his interest and lure him back for more, she smiled politely, as if she didn’t mind. “Fortunately we barely disrobed. My goodness, I now see this can be done without a cupboard.” She concentrated on her jacket clasps. “Will you be at the masked ball tonight?”
Artfully Wicked ('Pon Rep' Regency Rogues Book 1) Page 6
