A Question of Impropriety

by Michelle Styles

  ‘Surely it will not take that long.’ Diana looked at her reticule as her insides trembled and a flood of warmth went through her. Out there. Alone. This time, she would not behave irresponsibly.

  ‘I wish to go over my scheme in depth. We are friends, Diana. I value your opinion. You may think of possibilities.’ His voice was smooth. Diana glanced up, but his expression was bland. However, she could not rid herself of the feeling of being caught up in a current that was heading for some where unknown. ‘And remember, Diana, you are free to return to the house whenever you wish.’

  ‘I know that.’ She took a deep breath, concentrated. The only thing she knew was that she wanted to be with him. ‘Shall we go?’

  Chapter Eleven

  Brett resisted the impulse to support Diana’s arm or guide her hand as they walked along the over grown path towards the grotto. The red pelisse with white lace at the collar complimented her bonnet as the skirt of her dress billowed out, slightly revealing her slim ankles. The colour suited her far more than the browns and greens he had seen her in before. But she was the very picture of demure femininity. It belied the woman who had danced with him last evening and who had once again invaded his dreams. He tightened his jaw and kept his steps moving towards the grotto.

  Patience and careful planning were the keys to success. Her words about never marrying had been an unexpected blow. It had not occurred to Brett that Diana might not be seeking marriage, but it bothered him that she had rejected the notion out of hand.

  Was it her polite way of rejecting him? Or just the institution?

  His fingers curled around his cane. He would discover her reason in due course, but today’s plans revolved around other pursuits. He wanted her to feel comfortable with him and to begin to understand that she and he were intimate friends. That her head was not to be turned by the red-coated officers who had pursued her at the ball.

  ‘What are you planning for this area?’ she asked, stopping suddenly and gesturing towards a heavily wooded area where scrub and brambles vied with a few good specimens of trees. Brett forced his thoughts back to the garden and away from his plans for the afternoon.

  ‘It will have to be cleared. The cedar of Lebanon will be happier standing on its own. The pleasure gardens will be restored to their former glory.’

  ‘That will take a long time.’ Diana’s head was turned resolutely away from him. Her shoulders were set. ‘It takes years to make a garden. It is not a harum-scarum thing accomplished in a few weeks and then off to London.’

  ‘Time I have. I intend to live here once the new house is built. There is an aspect overlooking the Tyne that I particularly favour.’ He touched her elbow, supporting her over a rough patch of ground. ‘It will be done properly. I want your advice about the grotto and which motifs should be painted on the inner walls.’

  She gently moved her arm and her body away. He fought his instinct and allowed her to go. ‘I think you will need to do more than slap paint on the rock to restore this garden. That is all.’

  A small gasp came from Diana’s throat as she scram bled over the last few remaining boulders to reveal the grotto. A small weed-choked stream emerged from the mouth of a substantial cave. Nettles and brambles formed a curtain over the entrance.

  ‘It has possibilities. Surely you must see that.’ Brett mentally cringed. He hated the pleading note that had escaped from his throat.

  ‘Possibilities, hmmm.’ She walked away from him, tilting her head from one side to the other. ‘Certainly it does want love and attention. The whole estate is crying out for it.’

  Brett regarded the tumbled stones and muddy stream. He wanted her to see it as he saw it—the possibilities, rather than the depressing reality. A test of sorts. Could she look beyond the practicalities? Could she taste the dream? Her blue-green eyes became even deeper pools that Brett wanted to drown in. He shook himself and forced his voice to remain bland.

  ‘You have a talent and an artistic eye. I merely seek to use them for my own ends.’

  ‘And I merely do it for the pleasure of it. I claim no expertise.’

  She tiptoed closer to the edge and peered into the cave. The thin material of her dress clearly outlined her bottom—round, tight. Appetising. Brett allowed his eyes to wander over it, to linger as she peered first this way and that. ‘You do yourself a disservice. What I have seen is entirely satisfactory.’

  ‘You are right. It could do with painting, or maybe an actual shell border. I have heard of several houses with shell-patterned borders. Little shells, care fully placed.’

  ‘It sounds time consuming.’ Brett forced his mind from pondering the exact shape of her bottom and how it would feel in his hands. He had to remain casual. She seemed more nervous than ever today as her hand straightened and re-straightened her bonnet, an over blown confection of silk flowers and ribbons and straw. Fashionable, he supposed, but it hid her glorious dark hair.

  ‘Time consuming? Yes, but it does have the most marvellous effect—a sort of jewel-like quality with the water and the light.’ Diana waved a hand towards the grotto. ‘Shells would make this spot very romantic.’

  ‘Would you be placing the shells?’ Brett kept his voice steady. Willed her to answer yes. Willed her to agree to having reasons to visit him.

  She regarded the cave walls for a long time, her finger tapping against her mouth. He could almost see the pictures painting them selves in her mind. Waited with bated breath for her verdict.

  ‘I could do it, but it would take some time,’ she said finally, breaking the silence. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you employed someone, someone who knew what they were doing.’

  ‘I have faith in you. You can do anything you set your mind to. You waltzed beautifully last night.’

  ‘Easy words.’ Her laugh spilled from her throat.

  ‘Perhaps you don’t have faith in yourself.’ His fingers closed around her upper arm and he breathed in her scent of lavender and soap. A far more intoxicating combination than other women’s perfume. He willed her to remain there, close by his side. ‘Trust your instincts.’

  ‘I am not sure I can.’ Diana’s words were no more than a breath. ‘Brett, help me, please.’

  Diana felt his hand rest lightly upon her shoulder, the merest whisper of a caress, but she knew it was there. He stood inches from her. Waiting. The urge to turn around became a compulsion.

  All her admonitions of last night and this morning, all her promises and resolutions faded like mere wisps of morning cloud. She needed this. She was born for this—out here next to this grotto with its impossibly choked stream and hidden romance. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame despite the certainty of being singed. It only mattered that he was here and he wanted to kiss her. She wondered if she dared to take a risk. She knew she wanted to, knew that she could not live with the thought that it only might have been.

  Abruptly and without warning, his hands turned her. She met his mouth full on. Warm, soft and seeking. His lips roamed over her face, pressing small kisses against her mouth and her eyes. Each touch sent a tremor along her body, stoking a fire within her.

  Finally, his mouth returned to hers and his tongue traced the outline of her lips. First around the outside, delicately, and then along the crease, demanding entrance. A slow but thorough exploration. Her lips opened under the onslaught and she drank from his mouth, lifting her hand to curl around the back of his head to bring his lips and tongue closer. She needed them closer.

  Cool, sweet languor filled her as his tongue penetrated her mouth. Slow and lazy, but then with an in creased urgency. There was a difference from the last time. In the summer house, the kiss had a finite quality, but today, it promised secret glades along pathways of pleasure. Paths that beckoned and urged her forward. Unhurried and leisurely exploration.

  Her body arched towards his, moulding itself against the hard muscles. His hand fastened on to her waist, crushed her to him. He pressed small kisses along the corners of her mouth,
her eyes and her temple, small nibbles that sent little pulses leaping through out her body, warming her, making her yearn for something more. His mouth recaptured hers, devoured her. This was what it was like to be thoroughly and utterly kissed.

  Diana shifted as he fitted their bodies together. Pressed against her and ignited a fiery hail of sparks that leapt and danced. Her world had come down to this—his mouth touching hers, his hand, his body. Him. Only a few thin layers of material separated them. She shifted again and his hand slid over her backside, held it there. Firmly. The point of her meeting him.

  She gasped and clung on to the one straw of sanity she had left, wrenching her mouth away from his.

  ‘You see what you do to me,’ he growled in her ear.

  She drew back slightly and looked up into his hooded eyes. Slate grey, now alight with a fire burning deep within. And she could feel an answering fire build within her. ‘We are friends. Friends.’

  ‘We went past friend ship days ago.’ Brett’s voice was ragged and his breath came fast. But he stepped away from her. ‘I’d be lying if I said differently. You would be lying if you denied it. You knew what would happen if you came out here. You wanted this as much as I did.’

  ‘And what do you want?’ She brushed a hand across her mouth, tried to ignore the aching points of her breasts. Tried to ignore the burning inside and found the task too hard.

  His hands reached for her again, pulled her against him, the apex of her thigh meeting him. ‘You.’

  The word sent a delicious shiver down her back. Diana discovered she could not think beyond the shape of his mouth or the pressure of his hand on her waist. Her limbs appeared incapable of moving. Her tongue flicked over her suddenly dry lips wetting them, anticipating another onslaught of his mouth. He lifted an eyebrow and blew a cool stream of air across her lips. The coolness contrasted with the fevered heat of her skin and made her yearn all the more.

  She swallowed hard and tried to concentrate on something other than the growing tide of heat that built within her. She had to be sensible and consider what could happen. She forced her feet to move.

  ‘And I have no say in this? You are simply going to take? To plunder like a pirate?’ She barely recognised her voice. Husky, breath less.

  He placed his finger under her chin and raised her head so she was staring into his deep grey gaze. ‘We stop when you say stop. I wish to bring you pleasure. No force. Never force. But be warned, once you say stop, it ends. All this ends.’

  He withdrew his hands from her. Her body howled in protest. A great longing grew within her. She needed to have his lips against hers again. She wanted him to kiss her with that hunger.

  ‘I understand.’ She forced her gaze to meet his. A peace settled over her. She could do this. She trusted him to keep his word. They would kiss and that would be all.

  ‘We go at your pace, Diana. But once we stop, we stop. I do not play the tease.’

  ‘But the servants…what if we are discovered?’ Diana tried to step away but his fingers twisted around hers and held her still. Gently, but firmly. A hot molten surge coursed through her, far more potent than anything that had gone before. She willed him to understand. It was not simple for her.

  ‘We won’t be. I gave orders that we were not to be disturbed.’ His voice was low and slid over her like velvet. She tried to tell herself that he was a master seducer, but her body paid no heed. His look was for her and her alone. It had to be.

  ‘Rose will pay no attention to your orders.’ She pulled her hand away and kept her head high. ‘She will come soon, worried.’

  ‘She will not trouble herself. She will be drinking and sitting with her feet up.’ His hand caught hers, his thumb circling on her wrist, distracting her. ‘If she disapproved, she would have never told me you were in the summer house that day. She has done her best to foster this.’

  ‘She had no call to be so brazen.’ Diana felt her cheeks begin to burn. ‘I never asked her to be. You must believe that.’

  ‘I thanked her for it.’ His words stroked like silk over her skin. ‘And I will thank her again if she remains tucked up in the kitchen.’ He paused, tilting his head to one side. ‘Or we could go back and ring for a cup of tea. My cook won’t thank you for interrupting their gossip, though. After all the trouble she went to, to prepare the food. You could at least take a glimpse.’

  ‘I…’ Diana’s voice trailed away. One by one he had demolished her arguments. The first time she had truly put her resolutions and rules to a test, and they had failed her. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to try very hard. Maybe she was wicked and wanton and all those things that people had called her five years ago. But she worried that if she went back, she might never sample his lips again. ‘I could stay for a while longer. Explore the cave. Measurements should be taken. I will have to know the approximate number of shells that will be needed and the types you might prefer.’

  Brett waved a hand. ‘The picnic is here and the servants set it up. They brought the table from storage and the under-house maid raided the garden for the last of the Michaelmas daisies. I was most particular. Come and take a look and see if it does not whet your appetite.’

  ‘You seem awfully certain that I would come out here.’

  ‘Hopeful. There is a difference.’

  Diana bit her lip. Reason warred with desire. She wanted to be with him.

  ‘It would be a shame to waste it. The servants will talk if we don’t eat. You should try the seed cake. One little taste.’

  Diana at tempted to think of a coherent answer, but his fingers had recaptured her wrist. They swept tantalizingly along her skin, caressing the under side of her wrist. Soft, silky, sultry, but entirely innocent. The fire that his kisses had stoked seemed to leap up, but she knew if she said anything that he’d simply lift one eyebrow. She pulled her hand away, covered it with her other one. A small smile tugged at his lips.

  Diana held back the words asking what precisely he hoped to gain from this. She knew he wouldn’t lie. What he offered held no strings. As long as there were no consequences, no one would question. She under stood how society rules operated in these cases.

  She drew a deep breath, stood poised on the brink for a moment longer and then plunged. ‘I should like to see the picnic.’

  ‘You will not be disappointed. I asked Cook to prepare all of the delicacies—pork pies, potted cheese, salmagundi salad and even a rich seed cake.’ Brett rubbed his hands together. ‘And I must say Cook’s seed cakes are delicious. I have become quite partial to them.’

  It was a picnic. A real picnic. Not the wild seduction she had imagined. She wanted to laugh. Had she really expected any thing different?

  ‘You make it sound tempting.’ Diana forced her shoulders to relax. She could control her body and, for this one day, she wanted to be with him. Nothing would happen if she did not want it to. She trusted him. ‘I have not had potted cheese since…since before London.’

  ‘You will enjoy the picnic.’ His eyes turned serious and his fingers gave hers one last squeeze, then let go. ‘And, Diana, we return to the house when you say the word. You are in charge.’

  She followed him around to the side of the grotto. There in a sunlit grass hollow, a table with chairs had been placed. A starched white linen cloth lay over the table protecting it. With a flourish, Brett lifted the cloth and revealed the picnic. As promised, cold meat pies vied with salads and little pots of shrimp. A bowl full of late season fruits sat in the very centre—blackberries, apples and pears. The seed cake stood on its own little pedestal. There was even a crystal pitcher full of lemonade with mint floating on the top. The sort of picnic one might serve a maiden aunt. She gave him a quick glance under her eye lashes. Her stays felt far too tight.

  ‘Does the picnic not please you?’

  ‘I had thought it would be more…’ She looked at her hands. She could hardly confess to secretly hoping for a bottle of wine and a blanket on the ground. Maybe grapes. She had thought him t
he con sum mate rake, but nothing here screamed seduction. It was all so ordinary. ‘It is lovely, Brett. Thank you for thinking of it. Every single detail has been looked after.’

  ‘Everything is done properly.’ He pulled out a chair. ‘If you would care to take your seat, we can begin. I find walking works up an appetite.’

  ‘It looks perfectly splendid, particularly the seed cake.’ A lump grew in her throat. ‘I can’t think when anyone took so much trouble over my pleasure.’

  ‘It is my pleasure to look after you.’

  A lock of hair fell across his forehead. Without allowing her mind time to react, she reached forward and smoothed it away. His fingers curled over hers, held them there for an instant, then let go. He undid the ribbons of her bonnet and lowered it to the ground.

  ‘I wouldn’t want it to get crushed.’ Then he pulled off her gloves, finger by finger. Repeated the gesture with his. ‘Nor have these mussed.’

  She started to speak, but he put his finger to her lips and drew her to him again.

  ‘Bonnets are a nuisance. And gloves can get soiled.’ His breath tickled her ear, sending a fresh wave of heat through her. ‘You should not have to worry about the sun. The table is in the shade.’

  His hands cupped the back of her head and he lowered his mouth. ‘Good enough to eat.’

  ‘Brett,’ she whispered as his breath once more touched her lips, made her remember.

  ‘Enough talking for now.’

  Hot. Insistent. His lips plundered hers with a carnal desire. No longer seeking, but demanding. Demanding a response, a response her body was only too ready to give. Her arms went around him, held him there. Her body touching his.

  His steady fingers undid her pelisse and pushed it off her shoulders. ‘You looked warm in it.’