“Ah, there is Lord Dunstand,” Griffin commented. “The man’s an insufferable boor, but it would probably be wise to speak with him next, as soon as our dance concludes.”
Faith stumbled, but Griffin caught her, making a deft turn away from the gentleman in question. Faith sighed with relief. The easy victory with Lady Dillard had been accomplished by sheer male charm. Faith strongly doubted that tact would work with a gentleman such as Lord Dunstand.
All too soon the dance ended. Faith glanced longingly at the terraced doors on the opposite side of the ballroom, but made no move toward them. As if sensing her indecisiveness, Griffin leaned down and whispered in her ear. “After we speak with Dunstand, you shall dance with me again.”
Heat filtered through her and a fluttery feeling rose in her chest. She was about to comment that any more than two dances in one evening would be considered most improper, but the smirk on Griffin’s face stopped her. It was almost as if he was daring her to protest.
“I shall look forward to our next dance with great anticipation, my lord,” she said, wondering suddenly if he would kiss her this evening. Perhaps later, when he said good night.
He had done no more than briefly brush her hand with his warm lips since the afternoon he had proposed, and she admitted to herself that she missed those melting kisses that seemed to ignite every nerve in her body.
She was so distracted by those memories, she didn’t realize they were facing Lord Dunstand until his nagging voice broke into her fanciful thoughts.
“Ah, Miss Linden. Good evening. It is Miss Linden, is it not? Or have you decided to once again change your name?”
“I would have thought you had heard by now,” Griffin said casually. “Come tomorrow, she will be Viscountess Dewhurst.”
Dunstand raised one eyebrow and shifted his gaze to Faith. “Is that true?”
Faith managed a wan smile. “Yes. We had a small quarrel. Griffin followed me to London and quickly located me, despite my efforts to hide from him.”
“A small quarrel sent you fleeing from your intended? How very peculiar.” Lord Dunstand’s superior sniff soon had Faith gritting her teeth.
“I felt certain a man possessing such wit as yourself would find Miss Linden’s little prank most amusing,” Griffin added. “Only those individuals with superior breeding and intelligence can truly appreciate the irony.” He leveled a hard stare in Lord Dunstand’s direction, a look that was filled with such dire warning, it left Dunstand with no choice.
He cocked his head rather sharply and said tersely, “I wish you both every happiness in your marriage. You seem a most well-matched pair.”
A great sigh escaped Faith’s lips as she watched Lord Dunstand turn and stalk away. She was beginning to feel better. With considerably calmer nerves, she took Griffin’s arm and set about to greet another gathering of guests.
After conquering Lady Dillard and Lord Dunstand, facing the rest of the noble assemblage was an easy task. Faith merely followed Griffin’s lead, smiling at the appropriate moments, making only the minimal comments necessary. She was certain that people would think her a vapid creature, but for once Faith didn’t care.
This was an alien world to her, and although Griffin had been away for many years, he fit easily into it. This was the society in which he had been raised, and as her father was fond of saying, noble blood will tell.
True to his word, Griffin stayed at her side for most of the evening. He spoke to anyone they encountered that knew her as Miss Maxwell, and before long had even Faith believing that they were a couple caught up in an emotional whirl, separated briefly by a silly misunderstanding.
The ballroom was a maddening crush, and despite her enjoyment of the evening, Faith was more than pleased to take a walk in the garden when Griffin suggested it.
They spoke quietly of inconsequential matters as they slipped farther into the fragrant depths of the garden, beyond the elegant shrubs and blossoming bushes. The warm night air was heavy with the scent of flowers and the promise of the forbidden.
Finally they stopped in a secluded corner, where it was dark and quiet. The gentle silence of the night was broken by the sounds of rushing water from the ornamental fountain behind them, the melodic warbling of the night birds, and the strong, erratic beat of Faith’s heart.
Griffin turned and faced her. She could just make out the steely gray of his eyes in the moonlight. They moved with undisguised heat over her body, making her feel womanly. Powerful.
The faint sounds of laughter drifted out to them, reminding Faith of the risk they were taking. Even though they were to be married tomorrow, it would be most unwise if they were caught out here. Alone. Oddly, the thought made Faith even more excited.
Yet her nerves soon got the better of her, and she began to chatter aimlessly, as she always did when her anxiety rose. “Did you meet Lord and Lady Martin this evening? They are a most fascinating couple. He is a member of the House of Lords and most active—”
Griffin cut off her words in midsentence with a fierce, possessive kiss. For an instant Faith stiffened, but she soon began to melt as he gentled his invasions.
Griffin’s lips softened and molded themselves to hers. His tongue darted out for a swift, warm caress, sending a flash of heat to her stomach.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all evening,” he whispered.
“Truly?” she asked breathlessly, unable to believe that she could incite such desire in him.
“All evening,” he reiterated. His hand gently cupped the back of her neck, teasing the tender flesh with the warm tips of his fingers, stroking shivers up and down her spine. With his hand firmly planted in the center of her back, he drew her forward to start another, deeper kiss.
She melted into the embrace, tasting the warm inside of his mouth. Her knees felt weak, and she could no longer hear the sounds of the night above the thundering of her heart. Her entire being quickened with sweet anticipation. Faith could feel her breasts start to swell, the nipples straining against the silk bodice of her gown.
As if sensing her desire, Griffin’s hands moved down to her chest, slipping inside the top of her low-cut gown to cup her roundness. Lightly, insistently, his fingers teased her nipples into tight, hard buds, the heat of his fingers inflaming her already aroused senses.
Faith’s hands moved restlessly to the hard, muscular plane of his chest, then crept slowly around his shoulders. He buried his face in the nape of her neck, and she could feel his breath hot and eager against her sensitive skin.
Faith breathed deeply, filling her nostrils with his dark, musky, masculine scent.
“We should probably return to the ball,” she suggested weakly. “Merry and Aunt Agatha will wonder what has become of us.”
“Soon,” he whispered, nuzzling her temple.
She lifted her head to speak again, but he silenced her with another tender kiss. The faint shreds of protest fled quickly and Faith joyfully gave herself over to the passion, the excitement.
Griffin’s teeth nipped at the lobe of her ear; then his moist lips began a slow, languid journey down her throat. A faint moan escaped her swollen lips as the liquid heat ran swiftly through her body.
He paused when he reached the tops of her breasts; then with a deep groan he lowered his head and pulled a nipple into his mouth. Faith gasped loudly at the tingling she felt, the sudden moisture that rushed between her legs.
Was that normal? Embarrassment made her face grow warm, but she soon forgot her distress as Griffin’s questing mouth moved to her other breast. He rimmed the edge of her nipple with his tongue, then sucked hard on the bud until it tightened.
“My stars,” Faith whispered breathlessly. “My legs feel like rubber. I’m very much afraid I’m going to keel over.”
“Don’t worry, sweet Faith. I won’t let you fall.”
The tight bands of muscles in his arms told her he spoke the truth. Faith smiled. He would prevent her from collapsing, even though he was the cause of her
weakness, with kisses and caresses that drove her senses to the very brink.
She let her mind and body drift, knowing by the timbre of sincerity in his voice that she could trust him to take care of her. It brought an oddly unfamiliar sense of comfort to her heart.
Yet Faith almost did fall at the feel of his large hands stroking over her hips. She started trembling when she felt his fingers reach under her skirts. Expertly he brushed aside her undergarment. Faith gasped, and she gazed frantically up at the night sky, as if searching among the heavens for the means to control her confused emotions.
She knew he would stop if she asked him. But the words stuck in her throat. It was too delicious, too enthralling to end now. Besides, they were to be married tomorrow. Did it really matter if they anticipated their wedding night by a mere twenty-four hours?
His hands grew bolder, caressing her upper thighs with light, teasing fingers, until she felt the moisture gathering and the pleasure becoming nearly unbearable.
“Griffin?” Her voice was a softly whispered plea.
She pushed herself forward, almost mindlessly, seeking relief from the restless tension he had created deep, deep inside her. Faith felt his body tighten, heard him curse softly under his breath.
“My God, you make me forget my very name,” he growled roughly in her ear as he abruptly pulled away his hands.
“Please, Griffin, you cannot mean to stop,” she cried. Her hands reached out blindly for his.
“A true gentleman would never leave such a lovely lady in distress,” he whispered sensually. His lips grazed the vulnerable skin beneath her ear. “Yet this is a matter of some delicacy. A woman’s passion.”
A woman’s passion. Those hoarsely spoken words set her blood raging and her heart soaring. Finally, after years of curiosity and secret longing she was experiencing passion.
His hands moved behind her knees, and without warning he swung her into his arms. Faith closed her eyes and leaned into his solid, warm strength, sighing softly when he settled them on a garden bench tucked beneath a towering tree.
He positioned her awkwardly across his lap, but Faith barely noticed. She struggled to draw breath as she felt his hand slide downward, toward the very center of her longing. His fingers probed gently, parting the slick fold of her sex, kneading her overheated flesh in precisely the right spot. Warm shivers raced across her skin, and she shuddered each time he stroked her.
She lifted her face to his, and he answered her silent plea with a rough, hard kiss. Her lips clung to his as the rhythm of his strokes increased. Restlessly she moved her hands down to his, clasping the strong wrists. The hair on his arm felt crisp and springy, the muscles of his forearms were tense and strong.
It was such an intimate, unfamiliar act, yet she felt totally at ease with it, suffering no twinges of virginal horror.
“Let yourself relax,” he whispered roughly against her face, before sinking his teeth into the fleshy lobe of her ear. “Trust me.”
How could she not? Sprawled half naked in a moonlit garden while the musicians played at Lady Dillard’s ball and the cream of society mingled and danced and flirted, Faith realized she had already placed all her trust in this man. And a goodly piece of her heart.
The rhythm and pressure of his hand increased. Small sobs of delight escaped from her lips as she rose with him, wantonly opening herself to his shameless caress.
The spasms of pleasure broke without warning. Her wits scattered, Faith could do nothing but cling tightly to Griffin and let the sensual delight wash over her. She cried out in surprise and wonderment, and he caught her lips with his own to capture her ecstasy.
Her body convulsed, and she could almost feel the blood rushing past her ears. For an instant she felt more alive, more attuned with her body and emotions than ever before.
Faith drifted slowly down to earth, finally becoming aware once more of her surroundings. The warm kiss of the gentle night breeze against her still-heated skin, the fragrant scent of garden flowers now mixed with the pungent scent of fulfilled desire.
Yet despite the great pleasure Faith had just enjoyed, she felt a yearning within herself for something that was just beyond her reach. Something that only Griffin could give her.
“But there is more. I know there is more.” She wiggled in his lap and found the hard proof of her words poking insistently against the soft cheeks of her bottom. “Why must we stop? Oh, Griffin, we are to be married tomorrow. Does it really matter?”
“Good Lord, you would lead angels down a sinful path and they would follow joyously.” He clenched and unclenched his fingers repeatedly, then rubbed his forehead vigorously as if he were in great pain. “We shall wait because it is the proper and civilized thing to do. I vow, I will show more respect than my brother did, Faith. So no matter how much you tempt me, I shall not make you mine until we are legally wed.”
Seven
Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Griffin gingerly shifted the womanly bundle in his lap. Faith protested and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Biting back a curse, the viscount gently disengaged her entwined fingers and attempted to set her on her feet.
The erection straining against his breeches was painful, and each wiggle of her luscious backside was like a knife probing an open wound.
“Come, let me help you fasten your gown,” he said gruffly. “I loosened a few of the buttons earlier.”
His words had the desired effect of freezing her movements, and Griffin swiftly took advantage of the situation. He set Faith on her feet and stepped behind her. When he was finished fastening the buttons on the back of her gown, he turned her to face him.
“You are a man of infinite talent, my lord,” she said quietly. “Adept at not only divesting a lady of her garments but also dressing her.”
“It seemed prudent to learn both tasks,” Griffin quipped, but the charming grin on his face faded at the sight of Faith’s somber countenance.
What an idiotic thing to say! Boasting of his previous experience to his future wife. He was sure she was now wondering how many other women he had performed this intimate service for, and while the number was rather large, the frown on Faith’s face told him the number she was imagining was far greater.
“After tomorrow, you shall have the exclusive right to my services as a lady’s maid,” Griffin declared sincerely.
“You do me a great honor, sir.” Faith plucked a small leaf off a nearby bush and crumpled it between her fingers. “I hope that shall not prove to be too great a hardship for you.”
He reached for her hand. “I shall not take my marriage vows lightly, Faith. And I expect the same fidelity from you.”
Her face brightened considerably at his declaration of intended faithfulness and Griffin’s heart swelled. It was puzzling, but for whatever reason, her approval was something he inadvertently sought.
He felt confident that if he set himself to charm her, he would succeed. Faith was unlike most of the women he had known. On the surface she seemed simpler, less complicated, but he was not foolish enough to underestimate her intelligence. No, the main difference between Faith and the women of his past was that Faith needed him.
Griffin wondered suddenly what it would be like to lie beside this woman and watch her sleep at night. He eyed her with speculation, and she returned that gaze with a steady one of her own. He usually thought it uncomfortable to stare at a woman without speaking, yet with Faith he did not experience that awkward feeling.
“I’m glad we took a w-walk in the moonlight,” she said softly. Her hand strayed to his chest, and she played absently with the silver buttons on his waistcoat. “Lady Dillard’s ball is a lovely party, but it is quite magical out here in her luscious garden.”
“ ’Tis you who bring the magic to the evening, Faith.”
Her eyes flashed with genuine pleasure at his outrageous flattery. Griffin’s insides tightened. He shifted from foot to foot, disturbed to discover the restless yearning he felt was not entirely due to sexua
l frustration.
She was to be his wife, his lifelong responsibility, yet he realized suddenly that he was looking to her to fill not only a physical but an emotional need inside him. A void he had never before acknowledged.
He had known many women in his lifetime. Yet his heart and head had not made a decision about the sentiment of love. Was it truly an emotion that could be achieved and sustained for a long period of time? A lifetime, perhaps?
He had no answers for those questions. All he could acknowledge was that his pulse was quickening with a primitive sensation that was caused specifically by this one particular woman who stood beside him.
He could feel her looking at him, watching with luminous brown eyes, seeming to hang on his every word as if what he said was the most important thing she had to hear. It was a heady responsibility. He felt exceptionally gentle toward her and the keen pressure to make certain his words were creating sweet memories in her mind.
“I’m afraid our magical time has come to an end for this evening. We had best return to the ball before our long absence is noticed,” he said. “Tongues will start wagging.”
She nodded in agreement, but he could see her expression was solemn, almost wistful. He touched her hair and she lifted her face.
“So now we are concerned about the gossipmongers, my lord?” Faith queried, rubbing her arms briskly. “Earlier we did not care. Or so you said when we began our waltz. However, before that it was of paramount importance to avoid gossip and scandal at all costs. Why, ’tis the very reason we attended this ball.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Gracious, I feel as though I need to write all this down in the margin of my dance card, since it is impossible to follow your constantly changing opinion on the matter.”
“I promise my moods shall not be so mercurial in the future.”
“Do not make promises lightly,” Faith said. “For I shall hold you to your word.”
“I never doubted that you would.” He bent his head and gave her a brief, soft kiss.
A rueful smile appeared on her face. “Now you seek to distract me.”
To Wed A Viscount Page 10
