The Viscount in Her Bedroom

by Gayle Callen

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lord Keane pass the pier. His boat soon crunched along the bottom, and Georgie, too, almost fell forward. Her umbrella tipped over the side and floated like a miniature boat.

  “He just finished,” Louisa said softly.

  Simon lifted his head and grinned at her, sweat running down his cheeks from his damp hair. “Ah, victory is sweet.” He lifted his head. “Manvil, are we near enough for you to grab the oar?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Soon the valet was pulling them to the pier, then helping both of them out. On the other side, Lord Keane climbed onto the pier, and to his credit, he turned to help Georgie.

  Damp and bedraggled, Lord Keane gave Simon a reluctant nod. “A good race, Wade. I’m impressed.”

  Simon put his hand out and Lord Keane shook it. “Thank you, Keane. Why don’t you all stay for dinner. I’m sure Cook has been preparing for it all afternoon. You can even stay the night if you don’t want to get started too late for London.”

  “I’ve got to return to Town early, so I can’t spend the night. But I appreciate the offer. I’ll send you your winnings.”

  “I’m not worried,” Simon said with a grin. “You will let me know if this makes the papers.”

  Lord Keane stiffened, then gave a tight smile and shook his head. “Tilden would never tell.” He looked at the other man. “Would you.”

  Mr. Tilden blushed.

  After the guests had left, Louisa watched Simon head down a corridor, assuming he was going to change. She ducked away from Georgie, who was relating the exciting story to Lady Wade. Louisa wanted to make sure that in his jubilant state, Simon didn’t lose his way. To her surprise, after he moved into the depths of the house, he opened the door to the billiards room and went inside. Cautiously, she approached and peered in.

  And there was Simon, waiting. She gave a gasp that revealed her. He caught her waist, pulling her inside and shutting the door. He pushed her back several steps until she came up against the billiards table. As he loomed over her, his lower body held her in place, and the pressure was exhilarating. His damp shirt clung to him, revealing more than it concealed. His hair hung in short, wet curls that almost reached his vivid green eyes.

  He put his hands on the table on either side of her. “You’ve been following me. Do you know how that makes you look?”

  She swallowed, trying to control her breathing. “Like I’m a smitten woman.”

  He closed his eyes. “Are you smitten?”

  He seemed to be having just as much trouble breathing as she was, and it was a heady feeling.

  “I’ve been worried about you, in your first days walking about alone.” She moistened her lips. “And you know I feel…something for you.”

  He pushed his hips harder against her, almost a slow roll, and then she really felt something—it was hard and long, and made her want to shiver deep inside.

  “You called this feeling an awareness,” he said in a deep voice.

  She couldn’t make herself push him away.

  “You know I’ve experienced it, too.” He tilted his head, as if he would bring their mouths together. “So why do you continue to follow me? You had to know that I could practically feel you—”

  He pressed even closer to her, his chest coming into contact with hers. She whimpered softly.

  “And I can always smell you.”

  His hands slid up her arms, across her shoulders to her neck. His face brushed against the side of hers, then behind her ear. As he inhaled deeply, her nipples became taut points that began to ache.

  “The scent of you lingers everywhere,” he murmured.

  As he talked, she could feel his lips moving against her skin, making her quiver. She gasped when he licked her, a long, slow swipe that circled the rim of her ear. He pressed kisses along the line of her jaw until once again his mouth was just above hers.

  “I assume there’s no one in this room,” he said, his breath a soft, warm puff on her lips.

  “No one,” she whispered.

  “I can think of other uses for this billiards table.”

  She tried to make sense of her thoughts. “Are you…are you implying something you aren’t saying?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Her mind flashed with images of them lying in each other’s arms on the table, and she shuddered.

  He slid his hands to her waist. She felt his thumbs feather across her ribs, just beneath her breasts. Biting her lip kept her from groaning. She wanted him to touch her in ways no innocent woman should.

  “It’s been many days since you kissed me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Surely you don’t want me to be out of practice.” He lightly pressed his lips to hers. “Am I in the right place?”

  With a moan she slid her arms around him, and he held her tightly. Their kiss was sudden and passionate, no sweetness, only heat and frantic need. She knew what to expect this time, even reveled in the hot thrust of his tongue. She explored his mouth as he did hers, tasting the essence of him, breathing in his scent.

  He slid his hands up the front of her, and to her shock he cupped her breasts. Why did she have to be wearing so many clothes? She wanted to feel each caress against her skin, but her corset and dress muted every feeling. She moaned in frustration.

  “Wait,” he whispered against her lips.

  His deft fingers found the buttons on the front of her bodice, and with practiced ease he undid them and spread her bodice wide. She shouldn’t, she mustn’t—but when his fingers slipped gently between her breasts, she sighed with pleasure.

  “Ah, a low corset,” he said triumphantly.

  He gave a single push down, and the corset spilled her breasts free. They were still covered in her chemise, but he pushed that off her shoulders and suddenly her breasts were exposed to air.

  But not his regard. He did not touch them. Frustration crossed his face, and he murmured, “With hair so red, you must have the whitest breasts, their tips as pink as a summer rose.”

  Her nipples hardened like blooms that closed into tight buds when darkness fell. She should cover herself—what if someone came in?—but she stood there, bare, wishing he could see her, her hands clutching his upper arms as if he might let her go.

  His hands skimmed up her sides, his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts. She shivered, suddenly glad for the feel of him so tightly pressed against her hips. It answered a need, but aroused in her so much more. His fingers trailed across her collarbones, then slid slowly downward, riding the slopes of her breasts. She held her breath, her very skin afire wherever he touched. In passing he skimmed over her nipples, and she found herself shuddering hard against him.

  “Oh, Simon,” she whispered, but what could she ask for? She only knew that her body craved more of this, that she needed to be so much closer to him. She found herself moving against his hips, seeking something. “Oh, please.”

  Then his hands closed around both breasts, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out loud. She dropped her head back, pressing into his palms. He kneaded and caressed, then swirled the tips of his fingers against her nipples. He bent and took one in his mouth.

  The shock of his hot, wet tongue caressing her was like nothing she’d ever imagined. Each tug evoked an answering ripple deep in her belly. She pressed against him frantically, holding his head to her. When her hips wriggled against his, he caught her knee in his hand and lifted. He was able to press deeper against her, more intimately. Even through all of her clothes, she knew that this was right, that this would stoke all these wild feelings building inside her.

  He groaned and moved to her other breast, sucking her nipple deep into his mouth. With every pull of suction, every moist rasp of his tongue, it was harder and harder to keep her cries silent.

  His questing hand found the hem of her skirt, and then he was beneath, sliding up her stocking-covered leg, then over her garters and knee to her outer thigh. After skimming over her drawers, his hand cupped her behind and
ground her even tighter against him. Another whimper escaped, as she felt his fingers slide along her bottom, then find the open slit of her garment. For one moment his fingers touched her bare flesh, and it was wet.

  With a gasp she suddenly pushed at his chest.

  “We shouldn’t—we mustn’t—” She tried to gather her bodice together, but her hands were trembling. What had she been thinking, to let him take such liberties?

  Chapter 13

  Simon shook with the effort of getting himself under control. His body, so long denied, burned to finish what it had started—what he had started.

  He could hear the rustle of her clothing, knew she was covering herself again, when all he wanted to do was taste her, to bury himself inside the tight heat of her.

  “Louisa,” he began, then stopped, clearing his throat to ease the huskiness.

  “You said you didn’t want to be out of practice,” she said in a low, trembling voice.

  “I was teasing you.”

  She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “Am I just a woman to practice on, conveniently available?”

  “No!”

  “Then what am I? I am a terrible role model for my student, and if your grandmother found out—” She heaved a shaky breath. “I’ve never done anything like this before, never knew there were feelings such as these. Now I realize that this is what those men at my last position wanted to do with me, but I always managed to elude them. And now I’m here with you. Except for a few meetings in public, we’ve only known each other for a few weeks. And yet I’ve let you…”

  She trailed off, and he heard the anguish in her voice.

  “Forgive me, Louisa,” he said softly. “I never meant to let this go so far. You’ve been following me, and it’s made me think of you, and that kiss in my room—”

  “Oh, I know it’s my fault. I have…led you on, as women have always been warned not to do.”

  “No!” He rubbed his hands down his cheeks. “It’s not your fault. I was trying to say that it’s mine. I should have known better. In my experience—”

  “And you have had so much more than I,” she said tiredly. “When you hold me, I don’t even know what to do with my hands, and yet you touch me so…” He heard her sigh. “I have to go. Will you be able to find your way—”

  “Yes, yes, don’t worry about me. Have you forgiven me?”

  “How can I not, when I was so complicit?”

  He felt the swirl of sweet-smelling air as she passed by, heard the door open, and then she was gone.

  Was she right? Was he attempting to seduce her because he thought she was easily available to him? That couldn’t be true—most women didn’t inspire him to uncontrollable passion.

  But did he succumb because he thought she was more experienced than she was? Every rumor had said she’d been kissed, and the common consensus was that she was ready to take intimacy further. But nothing said she had—not until he had tried to seduce her. Her innocent reactions made him know for certain that no one had ever taken such liberties before.

  Or she’d never let anyone.

  Then why him? Did it still go back to her needing to find a husband? God, he wished he could find some way to ask her the truth.

  He found his coat in a heap near the door and folded it over his arm. How did he look? He smoothed his hands through his hair. He had to fool anyone he ran into—especially his grandmother. He would not allow Louisa to be hurt by new rumors.

  Louisa came down to dinner and treated Simon civilly, pleasantly. But he felt the wall she’d put up between them as if it were a physical thing. The next day she avoided him, and he found himself missing her company, missing the way she put him at ease. She and Georgie went riding in the afternoon, and Georgie hesitantly asked his permission. As if people couldn’t ride horses around him anymore!

  He was in a frustrated, ugly temper.

  That night, he found himself on the balcony, standing at the balustrade, feeling the cool wind in his face. The sounds of the night were haunting, soothing, but his restlessness wouldn’t go away.

  And then he remembered that the balcony ran the width of the rear of the manor. Louisa’s room was at the far end. He went back to the manor until his hand could touch it, and then he started walking. When he reached the end of the building, he turned back one door. Her room.

  He leaned his head against the glass pane, not knowing if she were awake or asleep. He just knew that he couldn’t leave things as they were yesterday. Though tempted to knock, he didn’t want to disturb her if she’d already fallen asleep.

  Testing the handle, he discovered it unlocked, so he slipped inside. The room was warmer than the night, and smelled powerfully of Louisa. He kept his back against the glass door and waited. If she didn’t notice him, he would leave, assuming she slept.

  “I think there’s a viscount in my bedroom.”

  At the reluctant humor in her voice, he smiled with relief.

  “Could he be here for nefarious purposes?” she asked. “Because I could have bashed him on the head with a heavy candlestick.”

  “No, no evil purposes. I just…didn’t like the way we parted yesterday.”

  “You’ve seen me—been with me several times since then.”

  He wondered if she was sitting up in bed. When his mind began to imagine what she was wearing, he forcefully thrust that image aside.

  “I may have been with you,” he said, “but you were only…pleasant.”

  “I’m always pleasant.”

  “Too pleasant. You usually tease me about something.”

  At that, she remained silent for a minute. He let her take her time.

  Then she sighed. “What do you want from me, Simon?”

  “I don’t really know. I’ve apologized about…the second kiss—”

  “Kiss?” she echoed dryly.

  “Passionate kiss, then. The last time I talked to you, you thought I was treating you as a convenience, and I want you to know that is far from the truth.”

  She said nothing.

  “But I have no excuse for my behavior. I will try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Try?”

  “I can’t make guarantees, Louisa. As you’ve said before, there’s an awareness between us, and sometimes it’s too powerful.”

  “Is that why you’re here tonight?” Her voice sounded cool.

  “No. I simply enjoyed talking to you the other night in this room, and I thought we could…talk again.” God, he sounded like an idiot, even to himself. “And make things better,” he added.

  She gave another sigh, and when she spoke, her voice was gentler. “I don’t have a candle lit, but I think you’re only about three paces from the chair you used the last time. Straight ahead of you.”

  Putting his hand out, he walked slowly, then found it easily enough. He heard the sound of clothing being donned, felt her footsteps as she neared him and sat down beside him. They were both in darkness, their common ground, and he was a little embarrassed by how comfortable he felt like that.

  “So what do you want to talk about?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “Perhaps why you felt the need to prove to Keane that I’m still a man—an intelligent man, anyway.”

  “That’s not what I was proving, Simon, and you know it.”

  He liked her defensiveness, liked the prickly way she reacted when he’d aroused her anger. He was used to women wanting to behave as they thought he wanted them to. But Louisa had a mind of her own. She was certainly not needy.

  “Lord Keane is a—a boar,” she continued, as if that was the worst insult she could find.

  He chuckled. “He’s not so bad.”

  “To slur you like that, because he thought he could get away with it now.”

  “He’s always slurred me like that. Frankly, I was glad he hadn’t changed.”

  “Oh.” She sounded shocked and puzzled. “Still, it was unforgivably rude to taunt you about women, when you certainly have no p
roblem—” She stuttered to a stop.

  He chuckled again, feeling warm and content. “I have no problem talking to women?” he said to help her out.

  “Of course.” She choked on the words.

  Regardless of her guilt, she’d enjoyed what they had done together. He felt foolishly glad about that.

  “Being among those men,” she began in a more serious voice. “It reminded me too much of my old life.”

  He frowned. “I don’t understand. I thought you said you enjoyed Society.”

  “Yes, and I have many happy memories. But…I guess some of those memories are linked with having money, and I had no idea how much it made me equate money with happiness.”

  He said nothing, unsure if she wanted a response, or just needed someone to listen.

  “When my father died, I realized that he obviously equated the two. When he didn’t have money, he didn’t want to live.”

  “Or maybe he didn’t want to live with the shame of everyone knowing the mistakes he’d made.”

  “Perhaps. But when my circumstances were reduced, part of me thought that maybe I’d equated money with happiness, too. I loved those parties and balls and dinners. I was at ease in that world, confident of who I was. But when I no longer had that life, I eventually realized that I needed to find another, better way to be happy.”

  “And you thought you could achieve that by being in someone’s employ?” he asked doubtfully.

  “No, as I told you from the beginning—by helping someone. Specifically young girls like your sister. I thought that when I left here—”

  He felt a strange pain in his stomach at the thought.

  “—I might be able to hire myself out to the families who are newly rich, whose daughters have no idea how to behave in Society. I don’t mean amongst the ton, of course, but amongst my Society.”

  “You say that as if it’s a class below.”

  “You know it is, even though you have always moved freely between the two. So what do you think about my plan?” she asked brightly.

  He didn’t like the thought of her hiring herself out to families who might not appreciate her. But she didn’t want to hear that. “You’d be excellent at whatever you did.”