by Gina Lamm
Leah erased any moment of doubt, pressing his hand against her breast. He released her mouth, but only to let his kisses trail down the column of her throat. She tilted her head back in abandon.
“Avery,” she whispered, hitching a leg over his hip. God, her core pressed against his erection now, so hot it almost burned. “I want you.”
The words were exactly what he wanted—no, needed—to hear.
He nipped at the tender flesh of her neck, wanting to mark her, claim her like an animal would. Her mewl of passion only spurred him on. Dipping his head, he trailed kisses down the delicate curve of her shoulder, to the neckline of her lovely blue gown.
The creamy swells of her breasts begged for attention, and he was loath to deny them.
Cupping one breast, he worshipped the other with his tongue and teeth, licking and nipping kisses on the tender skin. She pulled at his hair, ran her hands down to his hips, brushed the stiffness in his breeches.
God, it was not enough. He needed to see her, all of her. He needed to sink himself deep into her, feel her as she welcomed him into her bed and her body.
Into her life.
Forever.
Oh God, what am I thinking?
His eyes flew open. He staggered backward, dropping all contact with Leah. She swayed, nearly falling as he fought to regain his senses. He’d been dreaming. He’d been mad to do that to her. He could not be what she needed.
“Leah, Miss Ramsey, I…” He had no words. His manhood throbbed with frustrated lust, but he ignored it. “My apologies, Miss Ramsey.”
“Don’t stop. Please…” Her hand trembled as she pressed it to her swollen lips. Her eyes were wide, dazed, and wanting.
“I should never have forced myself upon you so.” Avery bowed deeply, cursing himself. “You have my sincerest apologies. It shall not happen again.”
“Wait just a goddamn minute.” She glared at him. “You didn’t force anything on me. Couldn’t you tell how much I wanted that?”
He glowered at her. “There is no need to prevaricate, Miss Ramsey. The fault is mine.”
She stomped toward him, mayhem plain in her gaze. “You’re going to answer some questions for me in a minute, but first you need to get something through your thick caveman skull. I wanted that. I want you. You didn’t trick me into kissing you, so get over yourself.”
His frustration and confusion battled for the upper hand. “Over…myself?”
She sighed. “Forget it. Did you get into a fight? Because no offense, but you look like hell.” Her brow furrowed as her gaze raked over his still-swollen cheek.
He set his jaw. “It is no concern of yours.”
She barked a bitter laugh. “The hell it isn’t!” She lost some of her vitriol as she pressed a warm palm to his cheek. “Listen, Avery. I’m not sure what’s between us right now, but I do know that I care about you. I can’t help if you keep shutting me out.”
He wanted so badly to turn his face into her palm and press a kiss there. To lay his head in her lap and tell her he’d put her in danger. To apologize for jeopardizing her chance at happiness with the duke.
“Miss?” A young female voice floated into the garden. “Are you here, miss?”
“Shit, that’s Muriel.” Leah tossed an irritated glance over her shoulder. “Can you wait here while I get rid of her?”
“I must go,” he said, disguising his relief at the interruption. He had to get away from Leah before he lost his head again. She wreaked havoc on his already tenuous control.
She looked at him, hurt in her gaze. His heart ached, but he stayed motionless.
“Okay. See you later, I guess.”
She walked away, leaving him alone by the stump of the old oak.
He’d bungled that properly.
* * *
Leah tried like hell to keep from crying as she walked away from Avery. The tears weren’t so much from sadness as they were from being frustrated, pissed, and straight up horny. The man had just left her with the feminine equivalent of blue balls. Blue ovaries? She sniffed and swallowed her emotions, pinning a pleasant expression on her face for Muriel.
“Sorry, I needed some fresh air,” Leah said to the maid. “What’s up?”
“Your new gowns have arrived from the modiste. Lady Chesterfield bade me fetch you.”
“More new gowns?” Leah pressed a hand to her forehead. A monster headache was starting to zoom around her skull like a Mario Kart party was going on in there. “But she already bought me a closetful.”
Muriel laughed as she led Leah into the house. “Miss, Lady Chesterfield would not dare to arrive at a ball in a previously worn gown, and she would not see her protégé do so either.”
Leah trailed after Muriel, trying to find some happy. Damn it, it wasn’t there. She was too riddled with anxiety to do anything but keep moving forward like a shuffling zombie. She’d have to do something drastic to clear these cobwebs, and soon. There were two men in her life, two very different men, and even though she was pretty confident she knew what, and who, she wanted, she had to do something to make sure.
An entirely wicked idea popped into her head, and she grinned. This was going to be delicious.
“Are you well, miss?” Muriel said, tilting her head.
“I’m fucking spectacular,” Leah said, then clapped her hand over her mouth with a laugh. “Sorry, Muriel! I’m good. I promise.”
The maid gave her an odd look but continued on her way. Leah had to fight to keep from skipping up the stairs. Tonight would answer her questions and ease her pent-up tensions. Oh, this was going to be incredible.
* * *
The night was so cold her breath fogged out in front of her. She wrapped her cloak around her tighter and kept on trucking. At least this is the ritzy part of town, she thought. If I had to walk through St. Giles in the dark alone, I wouldn’t make it fifteen feet.
Not that she actually owned anything worth stealing.
The streets were completely empty of people. A shiver skittered down her spine, and she walked faster. Maybe she should have begged Muriel to come with her. As soon as the thought popped into her head, she shoved it off with a laugh. Yeah, she should totally have asked the innocent teenaged maid to hold her hand as she hauled ass to seduce her man.
The thought warmed her as she spied Granville House ahead. Seducing her man. Avery. He’d bolted; he’d nearly driven her crazy by revving her up and leaving her wanting. But they’d finish what they’d started tonight. She refused to take no for an answer.
The servants’ entrance was locked tight. Damn it. She resisted the urge to thump her fist against the heavy door in frustration. It wouldn’t do any good.
She shoved herself upright and nodded. Time for Plan B.
The conservatory on the ground floor was her target. She hoped the room that Henrietta had locked her in—gosh, weeks ago now—would still have its window unlatched.
She found it without trouble, careful to avoid the stables on her way. She didn’t want to run into that asshole of a stable master.
She breathed a relieved sigh when she reached the window. Finally. Bracing the heels of her hand on the window, she shoved upward with a grunt.
The window didn’t budge.
She bumped it, trying to encourage the seal to break. The window didn’t so much as squeak.
“Damnit,” she hissed. “What the hell do I have to do to get in this place?”
The front door was out. Smythe probably slept on the damn welcome mat. She could probably go around the bottom floor and try all the windows, but what if someone saw her? They’d throw her into prison before she could explain.
She looked up at the stars. Maybe one of them would have mercy and grant her a wish.
The moon’s soft glow reflected off a shiny leaf of ivy.
Ivy.
The trellis!
She rubbed her palms together briskly. It couldn’t be much more difficult than climbing a tree, right? She’d been awesome at that
when she was about ten.
Of course, that had been a long time ago.
She shook her head as she tucked the ends of her skirt up. No way. She could do this. She could do anything she put her mind to.
What about that time you got kicked out of Zumba?
“Shut up,” she muttered to herself as she gripped the trellis. “That instructor was a sadistic bastard.”
The wooden trellis creaked and groaned under her weight. The ivy was thick, and it was tough to figure out where her slippers would fit. But she kept her gaze locked on the windows of the top floor. She could get to him—she could. She had to.
She reached sideways, aiming for a thin spot in the foliage. Her fingers slipped, and she tilted dangerously. Pulling at the tendrils of vine, she pulled herself back toward the house. Her heart thumped and her breath came in little gasps.
“Damn, that was close.”
She looked toward the ground and gulped. She’d never been afraid of heights, and she wasn’t really afraid now. It was more the falling she had issue with.
No. She wasn’t going to fall. She was going to haul her ass up this trellis, make love to Avery, and if she ever got home, she’d invest in a rock climbing class.
Hey, you never know when shit’s going to come in handy.
Drawing even with the top of the trellis, she breathed a relieved sigh. Okay. Here she was. Now, which window was Avery’s? The trellis stretched wide, covering the bottoms of three top-floor windows. She could look down, see where the area was…A quick glimpse downward was enough to make her nausea rise. Nope, not looking down there anymore. Too damn scary.
She’d have to do it the hard way.
Moving to the closest window, she peeped above the bottom edge.
Several moments passed before her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness inside. She blinked several times before the vision cleared. Henry, one of the footmen, lay sprawled atop the covers, completely nude. Ugh. She hadn’t needed to see that. Fortunately, his roommate Oliver was fully clothed in the small bed across the room. Typical. The men got beds to themselves.
Hand over hand, foot over foot, she Spider-Manned it to the next window. When she didn’t think about the terrifying ground below, this was actually kind of fun.
With a whispered plea for luck, she lifted her head over the bottom edge of the window.
It didn’t take as long for her eyes to adjust this time. When she saw him, her breath caught.
Avery lay on his back, arm cast over his eyes to block out the beam of moonlight that highlighted his chest and face. He was gorgeous, dressed in nothing but his breeches. She couldn’t help but wish he’d been the one who slept in the buff. She might have been satisfied just hanging out here like George of the Jungle on a vine with a view like that.
Who was she kidding? She wanted to watch out for his tree.
A quick glance across his room confirmed her suspicions. Nobody else was in the room. She didn’t know why the other servants ostracized him, but it happened to be pretty convenient at the moment. Gripping the windowsill, she moved higher, stretching for the window latch. Thank God, it opened with the barest push. Third-floor windows were so much nicer than first floor!
She hoisted herself up onto the windowsill, tumbling into his room with a thump. Wincing, she glanced at him. Whew. He’d just turned over with the noise. Good to be a sound sleeper.
Her palms stung with the effort she’d used to grip the trellis, but she rubbed them against her skirt and ignored the tingling. What was a little discomfort? He’d obviously been through much worse in the past week or so.
Shedding her cloak, she moved toward him and knelt at his bedside. Her fingers trailed just above his chest, tracing the edges of greenish-yellow bruises. He’d been beaten severely, or had gotten in a bad fight.
Her throat closed, and her eyes stung at the thought of Avery in pain. God, what a hardheaded bastard. He got in trouble way more than he should. The memory of the time she’d bandaged him slammed into her. One man shouldn’t have to bear this much crap. But he did, and he’d never complained, not once.
It wasn’t pity or even compassion that moved her to lean over him and take his lips in a fervent kiss.
It was something much, much deeper.
Twenty-One
His lips were so warm. She lost herself in them, delighting in the stubbly texture of his five o’clock shadow against her chin. He shifted beneath her, and she curled her fingers into the muscles on his broad chest. The man was solid as a brick wall, and the feel of those firm muscles under her made her want to purr.
His mouth opened, and she capitalized on the opportunity. Her tongue slipped between his lips, tasting his warm mouth. She knelt on the narrow bed’s edge, wanting to lie atop him, stretch out, and feel every part of him touching her.
Way too soon, he pushed her away.
“Leah,” he rasped, eyes wide and confused with sleep. “What are you doing here?” He sat up. She made use of the extra space on the narrow bed, plopping down beside him.
“I came to finish what you started,” she said, hoping she sounded a lot more confident than she felt. She didn’t have much experience convincing men to sleep with her. Her list of conquests wasn’t nonexistent, but it was kind of on the short side. She leaned forward, hoping he’d take the hint.
“What do you mean?”
Well, shit. She bit her lip. Better to show than tell, right?
Crawling toward him, she braced her palms on either side of his lean, muscled abdomen. “This,” she whispered before kissing him again.
As kisses go, it wasn’t the best she’d ever had. Avery pulled away after their lips had touched for only a brief second.
“What’s wrong?” she said, raking her hair from her face in frustration.
“You must not…I should not…”
“Avery, please. I want you. Don’t say no.”
His face was tortured, beautiful even though the expression was heartbreaking and his injuries were plain. She had every intention of getting him to spill his guts about why he looked like the poster child for a new Rocky movie. But right now, there was something they both needed much more than conversation.
“Please.”
* * *
His brain lost every trace of sleep. He blinked, trying to clear the vision of Leah lying over him, hair falling like a curtain around them both. She could not be here. In his bed. Asking to lie with him.
But she was.
As gently as he could, he pushed her away.
“You do not know what you are asking,” he said, standing and lighting the candle at his bedside. She only looked lovelier in the dim light. “How can I ruin you?”
His muscles tensed, and he fought to keep their trembling secret. Excitement and willingness thrummed in his body, but he must deny it. He cared for her too much.
“It’s not ruining, Avery.” She unfolded herself and came to him. “I’m not a virgin, and I want you as much as you want me. And there are things that we need to settle between us, feelings that I need to explore.” She laid her head on his chest, and he did not resist the urge to fold his arms around her.
He rubbed her back and closed his eyes. All the reasons he should abstain pelted him. She was not of his time. She was not his wife. Prachett would use her against him, harm her.
But when he looked down into her open, honest, and beautiful face, he could not deny either of them.
“Leah,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. Their kiss was filled with her enthusiasm and his barely contained joy. She’d accepted him. She could not know what that meant to him.
Bending low, he scooped her against his chest, bearing her back to the bed. Her hands curled around his neck and she nuzzled his chest.
“You have the best body,” she said as he lay her gently on his mattress. Her eyes glowed with desire as she traced his chest with a finger.
He smiled. “I would like to return the compliment, but I cannot see as much of y
ou at the moment.”
Her laugh warmed his heart as well as other parts of his body. She sat up with a wink. “Let’s fix that then, shall we?”
His mouth went dry as she turned and presented her back to him. “Can you help me out of this?”
He was no fool. He knew what he wanted from her and what she’d expect from him. But faced with the reality of a warm, laughing Leah in his bed, he found himself frozen with an emotion he could not name. Not fear, or anxiety either. More the sense that the world around him was changing at a lightning pace, and there was not a thing he could do to stop it.
If he wanted to stop it.
“Are you okay?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Avery?”
He shook off the thoughts and moved close to her. “All is well.” His fingers moved sure and strong, deftly loosing the buttons that flowed down the back of her dress. He concentrated on the task, doing his damnedest to ignore the throbbing ache in his groin that needed to be sated.
He pushed the gown from her shoulders, and it pooled around her torso. His moan of frustration at the numerous layers of underthings that lay beneath the gown wrenched a giggle from her.
“I know. It’s a crazy amount of underwear. We’ll get through it together, though, right?”
He pressed a kiss on her shoulder. “I cannot wait.”
He pulled her to her feet, and together they removed layer after layer of frilly, womanly undergarments. He’d not thought he could grow so hard at such a simple act as undressing her, but she was irresistible. She teased and kissed by turns, stoking his fires by touching him whenever and however she could. By the time she stood barefoot, wearing only her shift, he was ready to toss her onto her back and plunge into her. Control. He must retain control.
“Well,” she said, running her fingers beneath the waist of his breeches. “I think we’re even here. What do you say we get rid of the last of these clothes on the count of three?”
“I don’t think I can wait that long,” he said, gripping her shift and lifting it over her head. His breath caught deep in his throat.
