As she pulled away, he grabbed her hand and tugged her back. “If you don’t return for our waltz, I shall fetch you. Even in the retiring room.” His golden brown eyes bored into her. “No hiding allowed.”
…
Giles watched Suzanna as she hurried away from him, dodging couples and groups gathering in the quickly filling ballroom. Although he doubted his face was as red as Suzanna’s, since he’d had enough experience with intimacy, his insides were still churning at the short exchange they’d just had.
His words had brought back the feelings that had swamped him when he’d touched her silky skin after she’d slid from the tree branch. Thank goodness she had been raised to believe only “fast” women wore drawers. How he’d loved holding her in his arms, smelling the soft scent of her hair. He’d been delighted when she’d landed with her naked soft bottom right into his hands. He could not have planned it better.
He was still confident he would win her love, and her hand. He just needed to be patient and give her time to come to grips with the new feelings she was experiencing. Did she even know what she felt was passion? Desire?
Like most bachelors in the ton, he’d stayed far from innocents. That pathway was much too dangerous. A man could find himself leg-shackled to a woman he would despise within weeks. Since he felt quite strongly that a man—and a woman—should honor their marriage vows, he would never embarrass his wife by taking a mistress. Therefore, he intended to marry a woman who would keep him from regretting his vows.
Shortly after his dance with Miss Fenster, he spotted Suzanna standing along the wall, speaking with Lady Livingston. She had been the one who had met them with the carriage to transport Suzanna back to the house after the tree climbing debacle. Although he’d been concerned that the incident would be too juicy for Lady Livingston to not share, he’d heard nothing about it from any of the guests.
The lack of attention to Suzanna, and dearth of whispering behind fans when either of them appeared, told him Lady Livingston had honored her word.
As the strains of the first waltz of the evening began, he made his way across the ballroom. “Miss Blake. I believe this is my dance?”
She looked anything but pleased, but Lady Livingston offered him a smile. “You were quite the gentleman to assist Miss Blake.” She shook her head. “I hate to think of how some others might have taken advantage of the situation.”
“Mr. Templeton is ever the gentleman.” Suzanna smirked and accepted his hand.
He linked his fingers with hers. “I am happy I did not have to hunt you down.”
“A promise is a promise, Mr. Templeton.”
He took her in his arms. Here was precisely where he wanted Suzanna to be. The only better place was in his bed, and that would come. “Are you enjoying the ball?”
“I am, and in some ways, I’m looking forward to returning to London, and in other ways not.”
He cocked his head to look at her. “How so?”
“As I said before, I prefer the country. But I also enjoy a social life. I wish it could be a bit of both. The frenzy of the Season usually wears me down right about now, which is why I was so happy to attend the house party.”
Giles pulled her closer to avoid colliding with another couple. The feel of her soft breasts as they pressed against his chest increased his desire to have her alone, to kiss her plush lips and run his fingers through her softly scented hair.
He worked to tamp down his frustration—innocents were a breed different from his usual conquests. However, he’d never had a problem attracting women before and hadn’t thought it would take this long to win over the affections of the woman he intended to marry.
“I shall look forward to escorting you to the theater and on rides through the park.” He leaned close to her ear when she stiffened. “As I’ve said many times, I do not give up on something I want.”
…
Later that evening, Giles sat in bed, a candelabra next to him, attempting to read a book. After perusing the same paragraph four times and still not knowing what he’d read, he tossed it aside and admitted he was too frustrated to sleep.
The house had been quiet for a couple of hours. The shuffling and padding up and down the corridor had ended, and it appeared everyone had settled into their preferred beds.
Except him.
Visions arose of tapping gently on Suzanna’s door, then once she opened, pulling her to him, taking her lips in a searing kiss. He would scoop her up, walk them across the room, then climb into her bed, slowly unbutton her night rail, slide his fingers down her skin, circling her nipples with his fingertip before his mouth…
Egad, I am torturing myself.
A trip to the library for a bit of brandy was just what he needed. He stepped from the bed and pulled on a pair of breeches and a shirt. He doubted he would see anyone, so he left his shirt unbuttoned.
The corridor was dim, quiet. As he moved from the light of one wall sconce to another, mumbled words and quiet moans emanated from a few of the rooms he passed, strengthening his frustration. The idea of seeking out a woman upon his return to London quickly faded when he knew he would embarrass himself by failure to perform, since the only woman he wanted was Suzanna.
The library sat in darkened silence, shadows turning into objects as he passed them. He headed directly to the sideboard where the brandy and other liquors were held. After pouring himself a healthy four fingers, he wandered to the window that looked out on the garden and sipped his drink. A partial moon cast some light on the area.
A movement caught his eye, and a slow smile stretched his lips as the woman constantly in his thoughts pulled a wrapper snug around her body and passed by the window where he stood, not twenty-five feet away.
…
Suzanna took a deep breath of the night air, hoping a walk in the garden would ease her mind. And body. Thank heavens she would return to London tomorrow, to the safety of her cousin’s home. If she had to spend another night with Mr. Templeton under the same roof, without a doubt, her virtue would be in jeopardy.
He’d kept pulling her closer when they’d waltzed earlier in the evening, and she’d fought the urge to press herself against his hard chest. But what she should have done was shove him away and run. Run for her life—the life Mother wanted—and run from her own heart. She might as well admit it, even if only to herself.
She was falling in love with Mr. Giles Templeton.
He with the golden brown eyes that seemed to look into her very soul. His touch, no matter how innocent, brought shivers to her skin. His deep voice made her breath hitch, and his slow, easy smile wreaked havoc with her heartbeat. Either she had caught a serious case of the ague, or Mr. Templeton had crawled his way into her heart.
A wave of sadness swamped her. This was precisely what she had feared. She would be forced to marry one man while in love with another.
“Lovely evening for a stroll, is it not?” She startled at the familiar voice behind her.
She turned, her heart galloping like her favorite horse. “You frightened me!”
Mr. Templeton reached out and touched her cheek. “I’m sorry, Suzanna. I was trying to ease myself into sleep by enjoying a brandy in the library when I saw you pass by the window.”
She tugged the belt of her wrapper, aware that she had nothing under the garment but a nightgown. Why had she done something so foolish?
“It is not safe to be wandering around a dark garden by yourself at this hour.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, easing her forward, leaving only a couple of inches between them. “You never know whom you might encounter.”
She licked her dry lips. “Yes. I understand the danger. It stands right before me.”
“Ah. Smart woman.” He lowered his head and, bringing his hands up to frame her face, covered her mouth with his, immediately nudging her lips apart so he could sweep in, setting her body on fire.
His hand drifted to her shoulder, down her back to cup her bottom, urging her to move
closer, until they were touching. She felt his manhood pressed against her stomach, but instead of fearing for her virtue, she moved her hips back and forth against him. With a slight groan, he encircled her waist with his hands and lifted her.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered.
She did as he asked, the cool night air bringing goose flesh to her now bare legs. He devoured her mouth, touching all the parts that set her body on fire. She caressed his neck, then played with the springy curls at the top of his chest, where his shirt lay open. He walked them slowly toward a folly at the end of the formal garden, well hidden from the house by shrubbery.
He sat, with her on his lap, her legs on either side of him. Her gown had ridden up to the top of her thighs, but the coolness felt good against her heated skin. One slipper fell from her foot, then the other. She threw her head back when he released her lips to kiss his way down her jaw, to her neck. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you. I think about us together all the time, naked, skin to skin.”
“Don’t say that,” she panted the words. “It’s not proper.”
She felt his smile against her skin, right above her gown’s neckline. When had she lost her wrapper?
“Oh, my love. Nothing I have in mind for us is proper. Naughty. Very naughty, indeed.” His busy hands had pushed her nightgown off her shoulders, the silky fabric pooling in her lap where the area between her legs sat snug against his hardness.
He leaned back and stared at her breasts, revealed in the pale moonlight. “Yes, beautiful. Plump, soft, with pale pink nipples, begging for my attention. You take the breath from my body.” His hands spanned her naked back as he dipped his head and took her breast into his mouth, suckling hard, eliciting a soft moan from her dry lips.
Everything surrounding them in the garden disappeared as all her focus centered on what he was doing with his mouth. He nipped, suckled, licked, then started over again, switching from one breast to the other. Heat traveled from her middle, where she had grown damp, to her neck, then her face. She expected to see flames shoot from the top of her head.
While one of his large hands remained on her back, keeping her from tumbling backward, the other hand moved between them until his fingers reached the ache between her legs. He slid his finger up and down, then in circles. “Yes.” He nipped at her earlobe. “You are ready for me.”
Tired of holding back and fighting what her body so recklessly wanted, and eager to explore him as well, Suzanna moved her hand to where his fingers played with her opening and rested her palm against his manhood.
Giles sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. “What are you doing?” The choked words made her grin. This time she was rattling him.
She gripped his erection and squeezed.
“Suzanna.” His groan left her with a feeling of control.
“What?” Amazed at her boldness, she continued to stroke him until the urge to feel him skin to skin was overwhelming. She began to fumble with the buttons on his fall front.
His hand immediately clamped over hers. “What are you doing?”
“I want to touch you, too.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think that is a good idea.” Despite his words, his grip on her hand lessened, and she took that as permission.
She unbuttoned the flap and wrapped her hand around his shaft. He was hard as steel, covered with soft skin. He throbbed in her hand, and her thumb felt a drop of liquid from the tip that she smoothed over the spongy skin.
Giles groaned again and covered her mouth with his, shaping her lips, nudging them with his tongue until she granted him access. His kiss was searing, powerful, her lungs weak and fighting for breath.
He pulled back, leaving her bereft, and scattered kisses over her chin, neck, and near her ear. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” His whispered words had an urgency to them, but she sensed a token attempt to thwart her actions.
“Then you will have to show me.” She pushed her core against his fingers, squeezing his swollen shaft at the same time.
“Sweetheart, I’m trying very hard to be a gentleman, but you are killing me.” He continued to play at her entrance, stroking, smoothing, the moistness growing as his skilled fingers blocked out everything except the sound of their panting and an elusive something she strived for. Her breathing became erratic, and she felt as though she was climbing a very steep hill, the top out of her reach. “Then don’t be a gentleman.” The words barely made it past her lips. She continued to thrash about on his lap, tensing her muscles, pushing against his hand.
“Relax, my love. Let go.”
“I don’t understand.” She tossed her head back and forth, gripping his hair, fisting her fingers in the silky locks. “I’m feeling rather strange.”
“Shh.” He spoke against her lips. “Just relax, let me do the work.”
She stroked his manhood as a wave of rapture she’d never felt before began where his fingers worked so diligently and traveled up her body in waves. Before she could scream with the pleasure of it, he covered her mouth with his, silencing her.
The throbbing slowed, then stopped, and she slumped against him, feeling as though she could sleep right there in his lap, in the garden.
He brushed her hair from her face. She looked up at him, her hand still caressing his shaft. “What about you?”
“No. We cannot go any further.” He shifted to tuck himself back into his pants, and she held on tight. “No. I want it all.”
“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re asking for.” He kissed her forehead.
“Yes, I do. I might be an innocent, but I am not ignorant. I want everything.”
She nuzzled the strands of curly hair at the top of his chest. Since her mother was determined she would marry a man with a title, shouldn’t she have at least one encounter with the man she’d fallen in love with? She would think of some reason to explain to that unknown future husband why her virginity was missing. Right now she cared not.
“Show me what to do.” She rubbed the tip of his manhood against her core. With a groan of male satisfaction, he replaced her hand with his, but did not move.
“Now what?”
“Are you sure about this, my love?” His eyes were closed, and he looked to be almost in pain.
“Yes. I am very sure.” She would worry about tomorrow when tomorrow came.
Slowly, he eased inside her, the strange feeling of fullness rather nice. “This will hurt for a moment.”
Her head rested on his chest, her arms wrapped around his body. The sound of his breathing and the pounding of his heart against her ear enveloped her, blocking out every other sound, sight, and smell.
He continued on, eventually stopping. He cupped her face and took her mouth in a possessive kiss just as his hips thrust forward and she felt a pinch. His kiss swallowed her squeak.
Giles leaned back and brushed the damp hair from her forehead. “Are you well?”
“Yes.” She grinned now that the sharp pain had ended. “Quite well.”
His strong hands gripped her hips. “In this position, you must do the work.”
“How?”
He lifted her up, and back down. “Like that. Balance yourself on your knees.”
She remembered this position from the book she and Patience had seen. Within a few moments, she had established a pattern that seemed to make Giles happy.
“Sweetheart, I won’t last long. I’ve wanted you for too long.”
With a jerk, he thrust forward, then pulled himself out of her, spilling into a handkerchief she hadn’t seen him take out of his pocket.
They rested, plastered against each other, breathing heavily. Slowly her surroundings returned to her. ’Twas a dangerous thing they had done, right here in the garden. Anyone could have wandered by. She slowly raised her head and stared at him. His rumpled hair, his shirt opened at the neck, revealing part of his muscular chest. He studied her with such caring, such—love—she almos
t wept.
He ran his finger over her lips. “You understand now that we must wed. I will visit with your father in the morning.”
She slumped against him. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? We have just been intimate. You might be carrying my child.”
She shook her head. “No, you didn’t spill your liquid into me.”
He grinned at her description. “True, but that is not a perfect guard against pregnancy.”
Suzanna stood, her nightgown fluttering to the ground. Shivering in the night air with her skin still damp from their lovemaking, she yanked it up, but not before she noted Giles’s hungry gaze. “Nothing has changed. I still cannot marry you. And nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”
Giles regarded her with raised eyebrows. “Oh no?”
“No. Nothing at all.”
Chapter Twelve
Giles ran his hand down his face as he studied her. Now that he’d had her, there was no way in hell he would let her go. Stubborn woman though she was, he needed a way to push her in the right direction for him. For them.
Drawing on his memories of the competitive Suzanna he’d witnessed throughout the house party, he smiled as an outrageous plan presented itself. “How about a wager?”
She frowned. “A wager? Something written in the betting book at White’s?” She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare do that.”
“No. I would never write your name at White’s or anywhere else. You’ve said you have a competitive streak. I have seen it a bit this week with the various games we’ve played. I’m suggesting a wager between you and me.”
He reached out and ran his knuckle down her cheek. She closed her eyes and breathed a soft sigh. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight than Suzanna after being well loved.
She shifted away from his touch and fussed with the collar on her wrapper. “What sort of wager are you proposing, then?”
He grinned, knowing she would take the bait. “’Tis a simple one. I wager that you will marry me—a man without a title.”
She shook her head. “No. I just explained that is not possible.”
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