“Wilkins is a colleague of mine. And I am honored to call Sir Joseph a friend.”
Lily couldn’t help but be impressed, although her friends didn’t recognize the significance.
“Who is Sir Joseph?” Fleur wanted to know.
Lily glanced over at her. “He is the president of the Royal Society, Fleur.” The Royal Society was a learned organization for the promotion of the natural sciences and had arranged various scientific expeditions around the globe over the past several decades. “Sir Joseph also once sailed with Captain James Cook in the Endeavor to explore the Pacific and the coast of Australia.”
“And you are interested in such things?”
“Well, yes. But I confess surprise that Lord Claybourne is.”
Beside her, Heath leaned back in his seat. “My friend Arden is an avid member of the Society, and I became involved at his urging. My chief interest is in exploration. I’ve helped fund three expeditions of research vessels thus far, including this most recent one of Wilkins’s.”
Lily eyed him in admiration, recalling that her first impression of Heath had been as a bold adventurer and explorer. “I didn’t realize you were interested in exploration.”
“There is a great deal you don’t know about me.”
Fleur broke in once more. “I would say this gift is surely worth a point, Lord Claybourne, since it is quite thoughtful and inventive. A conventional courtier would have brought Lily poetry. It shows that you are attuned to her true desires.”
“I most certainly have her true desires in mind,” Heath murmured so softly that only Lily could hear.
At his deliberately provocative remark, she sent him a quelling glance and resolved to change the subject, not wishing to dwell on the disheartening fact that he now needed only two more points to win the game. “Thank you for the book, my lord. I shall be pleased to read it. Now would you care to report on your efforts to find attendees for our soiree tomorrow evening?”
“I count thirteen who have promised to make an appearance.”
Chantel clapped her hands together with delight. “That is capital, my lord! With your candidates as well as Fanny’s, we should have nearly thirty eligible guests in attendance.”
Heath’s smile was modest. “One of the candidates purports to be an old acquaintance of yours, Miss Amour. Viscount Poole.”
“My heavens! I haven’t seen Poole for a donkey’s age. His wife objected to his…er…liaison with me, so he gave me up.”
“He is widowed now,” Heath informed her.
“Yes, I had heard that.” Chantel gave a bemused sigh, as if remembering her colorful past. “Lord Poole always was one of my favorite courtiers. Not the most original lover but a jolly sort and by far the best poet. He regularly won the contests for my favors by composing sonnets for me, do you remember, Fleur?”
“I do remember.” A speculative look entered Fleur’s eyes. “Perhaps you can turn his attendance tomorrow night to your advantage and renew your former association with him.”
“I will certainly try. But it will be delightful to see him again, in any event.”
“You will have to look your very best,” Fleur advised. “Age has not been our friend, as you well know.”
“Yes, but Fanny’s dresser can work miracles with cosmetics and coiffures. And Lily has sprung for marvelous new raiments for me.” Chantel smiled at Lily. “I wish your own gown was half so fine, my dear.”
“I shall make do with a simple evening gown,” Lily replied. “Our pupils are the ones who must shine.”
She felt Heath’s frown as he turned his gaze on her. “Surely you won’t be attending the soiree?”
Her brow furrowed. “But of course. What did you expect?”
His frown never wavered. “The company will not be what you are accustomed to.”
“If you are concerned about the impropriety, I plan to come in disguise—a mask and turban—so no one will recognize me.”
“Even so, you don’t need to be there.”
Lily’s eyes widened at his obvious disapproval, until she realized that he was worried that his bachelor friends would think her among the muslin company. “But I must be there, my lord, to help our boarders if necessary. Surely you see that I cannot abandon them now? This soiree is far too important to their futures. Not to mention that a successful outcome of the soiree should help us to repay the debt owed O’Rourke.”
Heath didn’t argue but sat silently regarding her. Uncomfortable with his penetrating gaze, Lily rose to her feet. “Thank you for the gift of the book, my lord, but if you will forgive me, I have another class scheduled in a few moments. Shall I see you at the soiree tomorrow evening at eight? Regrettably I won’t have time before then, since we will be making preparations all day.”
“Till tomorrow at eight,” Heath said as he also stood.
He offered her a polite bow before she turned away toward the door, although he didn’t appear at all happy with her, Lily noted.
Yet his happiness was not her chief concern now—or at any other time, for that matter, she added mutinously to herself.
Her only concern now was holding a successful soiree so that her pupils could acquire new patrons who would care for them and give them better lives than they could ever hope for otherwise.
Heath was indeed severely unhappy with Lily’s decision to attend Monday evening’s event. He most certainly didn’t want his future marchioness at such a risqué gathering, exposed to the blatant overtures of his friends and fellow bachelors.
Thus he arrived early at the soiree, prepared to keep a close eye on Lily.
He was restless and impatient, however, as he watched her mingle among the company. She had indeed worn a three-quarter mask, which concealed all of her face except for her mouth and chin, as well as an elegant turban to hide her lustrous hair. No costume could disguise her essence, though. She was vibrant and alive, pulsing with life and sensuality. Every man in the room noticed her—which was quite a feat, considering how much competition she had.
The soiree was an elegant affair, comparable to any glittering fete held at Carlton House by the Prince Regent’s tonnish cronies. The drawing room was filled to overflowing. Every one of the young women on display looked and spoke like ladies, and Heath couldn’t help but be impressed, knowing that Lily’s “academy” had turned them into beauties worthy of becoming London’s finest courtesans.
Fleur Delee and Chantel Amour looked on like proud mother hens. Fleur was garbed in scarlet silk and black lace, while Chantel was resplendent in purple satin and matching ostrich plumes, although he suspected her amethyst and diamond jewelry was made of paste.
For the first hour, Heath hovered protectively near Lily, but she moved from group to group, ignoring him. After that, she latched on to the elderly Lord Poole and spent the next hour laughing and flirting and drinking champagne with him.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, the evening was barely half over when Lily was approached by a pair of eager young bloods.
Heath felt his fists clench when one of them kissed her hand, but it was only when Lily laughed up at the young man that he could take no more. In two strides, he was standing before her.
“Ah, there you are, darling,” Heath said through gritted teeth as he took her elbow and drew her away from the company.
When he would have led her from the drawing room, however, she pulled back, resisting. “What do you think you are you doing, my lord?”
“Taking you away from here.”
“You cannot. I told you, I must remain in case our pupils need me.”
“No, you will not. In fact, I forbid it.”
“You forbid it?” she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief.
“Yes,” Heath insisted, his fingers taking tighter hold of her upper arm. “You are coming with me, sweetheart.”
“Of all the arrogant, high-handed—”
Her sputtering faltered when she noted numerous pairs of eyes watching their altercation.
Fuming in silence, she allowed Heath to escort her out of the drawing room and up two flights of stairs to the floor where her bedchamber was located.
The corridor was dimly lit by a single wall sconce, Heath saw, and her bedchamber wasn’t lit at all, he discovered when he shut the door hard behind them. Yet since the curtains and windows had been left wide open, his eyes quickly adjusted to the moonlight streaming into the small room.
Lily had ripped off her mask and whirled to face him, her hands on her hips. And judging from her expression, she was clearly irked by his possessiveness.
“You cannot tell me how to behave, Lord Claybourne! You do not own me.”
Her declaration only raised Heath’s ire. He rarely lost his temper, but he could feel it turning flame-hot. “You are wrong, Lily. You are mine. And I won’t stand for you carrying on with other men like the veriest trollop.”
“Carrying on?” Her voice rose nearly an octave. “What, pray, was I doing to warrant that unfounded accusation?”
“You have been simpering and flirting with Poole since he arrived.”
She looked half astonished, half infuriated. “Because I quickly determined he was the only man here who was safe for me to be with.” Her eyes narrowed. “You cannot possibly be jealous of Lord Poole! Why, he is old enough to be my grandfather. Moreover, he isn’t the least interested in me. He spent the entire time reminiscing about Chantel’s former glory days. He is quite smitten with her—and completely harmless to me.”
“Those two leering bucks aren’t harmless. They want nothing more than to have you in their beds.”
“What if they do? You have no right to be jealous!”
In one distracted part of his mind, Heath acknowledged the novelty of the fierce emotion he was feeling. He never became jealous over a woman. Yet both Poole and his younger rivals had made him livid with it. Or rather, he was livid at the attention Lily had shown them. Her consorting had roused a primal male urge to carry her back to his lair and keep her safe from all his competition.
How had this spirited hoyden managed to do what no other woman ever had?
Lily was glaring at him as if she wanted to box his ears. “This is positively absurd. I am returning to the soiree this instant. Let me pass.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” he repeated as the air between them crackled with tension. He’d had enough of her resistance, enough of her denials. Lily didn’t want those lecherous blades, she wanted him.
Determined to prove it to her, Heath stepped forward and hauled her into his arms.
It started as a kiss of mastery and domination, with no hint of gentleness. His need was all about possession as he plundered her mouth…ruthless, relentless, his tongue thrusting with a hunger that was angry, thorough, and devastatingly passionate.
Lily felt his hunger as his strong hands pulled her even closer. Her resistance lasted another heartbeat before she gave in entirely. With a seizure of need she melted against Heath, kissing him back with ruthless abandon.
She reveled in his fierceness…yet what had started as angry and intense quickly turned hot and tender; their kiss became wild, delicious, and stunningly sensual. Lily gave a helpless whimper at the sheer power of it.
Her heart was hammering and her breath came in ragged pants when Heath finally drew back to stare at her. Desire throbbed in the air, along with a telling pulse between her thighs.
Lily’s heart pounded harder. He meant to make love to her, she could see in his eyes, in the intent expression on his face, illuminated by the pale glow of moonlight.
“I want you, Lily,” he stated, his voice a low, husky rasp. “And I know you want me.”
“Yes,” she said simply.
Sliding one hand around her nape, he stroked the base of her neck in a light, tantalizing massage before reaching up and relieving her of her turban. Making short work of the pins that held her hair up, he spread the dark mass over her shoulders.
Then his hands began to move gently over her body, exploring her with enthralling seductiveness, tracing her shape through her gown and causing Lily to shudder with longing.
“Will we leave our clothes on this time?” she asked in a breathless murmur.
Heath flashed a smile that came close to taking her breath away. “Not this time, love. I want to see and feel and taste all of you…and for you to do the same with me.”
He undressed her then, not allowing her to help. Lily was excruciatingly aware of his slow movements, the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat, the heavy pinprick of sensations in her body.
When he had dispensed with her last garments, he stood back to take in her nakedness. The expression on his face was almost reverent as his gaze caressed her. “I have imagined this countless times…how perfect your body would be, how exquisite. How it would feel to make love to you with nothing standing between us.”
She had imagined it, too, which was why she felt surprise and disappointment when Heath led her to the bed and sat her down, then left her there.
But he was only stepping back to remove his own clothing, Lily realized with gratitude, watching as he began with his coat and waistcoat. His cravat and shirt came next, before he moved on to shoes and stockings and satin knee breeches.
Her breath caught in her throat when she saw his body completely naked for the first time. He looked utterly perfect himself, she thought, her enthralled gaze wandering over his magnificent shoulders, his wide chest, his narrow waist and hips, his long, powerful legs.
Muscles rippled and played beneath the satiny skin of his broad frame, while his arousal thrust out thick and swollen from the juncture of his thighs.
The sight made Lily’s mouth go dry. She stared, hypnotized, as Heath came to stand before her. When he put a finger under her chin, lifting her gaze, she found herself drowning in the shadowy glimmer of his eyes.
She shivered as he urged her back upon the narrow bed, and when he joined her, stretching out his full length beside her, the muscles in her stomach clenched in anticipation.
Lily drew another sharp breath as their naked flesh touched. He felt amazing, warm and smooth and hard and muscular. Her senses came alive at the exquisite, profoundly male textures. The softness of his bare flesh, the heat and steel beneath. And his loins…His erection pulsed and strained against her abdomen, she could feel the scorching heat of it.
Stirring restlessly, Lily pressed her body against his, wanting to be even closer.
“No, keep still and let me pleasure you,” Heath murmured.
Obediently, she lay back and let him have his way, but it wasn’t easy to remain still when he began to stroke her, his hand wandering over her skin, his touch skimming like a breath.
Her nipples were excruciatingly taut, and when his palms barely brushed over the pouting buds, a spark of fire kindled inside her and flowed downward to her female center.
Lily bit her lip hard as she surrendered to the deft expertise of Heath’s hands. She was enchanted by the pure sensuality of it…his magical touch, the quiet hush of the night, the muted moonlight pouring over them like liquid silver.
His hands left her breasts and tangled in her hair, while his mouth joined the tender assault on her sanity. His feathery kisses were a tantalizing caress on the underside of her throat before moving upward over her jaw to her cheekbone. Then, with the slow eroticism of a dream, his lips settled on hers.
Lily made a soft sound like a sigh as his mouth enthralled hers. For long heated moments, she lay there beneath him, drinking his breath, absorbing his taste, savoring his enveloping warmth, his masculine scent. Her sigh became a soft whimper as his fingers spread deliciously through her hair, guiding her even deeper into his kisses.
She was enraptured…held spellbound by his gentleness, paralyzed by his sweetness.
He continued to feed her the thick, dreamy pleasure, dazing her with his mystical power. Just now there was nothing in the world but the two of them, and yet her body yearned with the need
to know more of him, stung with a hunger for greater fulfillment.
She was infinitely grateful when his hand returned to the naked swell of her breasts. Her nipples were aching and throbbing, and when he pinioned one between his thumb and forefinger, fiery sensations pulsed inside her, throbbing through her belly.
Then he cupped the mound in his hand and took the peak into his mouth, suckling, laving with his hot tongue. Lily dragged in a shuddering breath as melting heat began to blaze throughout her body. When he went on rousing her with pleasure, she sank her fingers into his hair, holding his head to her breast.
Heath, it seemed, was not content with merely tormenting her nipples, however. Breaking free of her clutching fingers, he trailed his mouth down to her abdomen.
Lily burned where his lips pressed, but she went rigid when he nuzzled her nest of curls at the vee of her thighs.
“Easy,” Heath murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her heart feverishly pounding, she strove to be still, waiting while his large hands framed her thighs, holding her legs apart, exposing the heart of her to his touch. Then deliberately, he set his lips to her soft flesh, pressing a long, hot kiss against her feminine center, dredging a breathless gasp from deep within Lily’s throat.
Heath paid her no mind. Instead, he lapped at her slowly, teasing the folds of her cleft in deep, velvety strokes, sending lashes of heat to the very core of her.
He seemed to savor her, his attentions first long and slow and languid, then more intense…his tongue alternately delicate and butterfly light, then firm and rough and urgent.
Her breathing grew increasingly ragged, racing with her heart at the devastating stimulation. Her body was raw with wanting, the pleasure sharp and riveting, a feast of sensation. But Heath prolonged the delicious torture until Lily was faint with bliss.
Eventually he increased his rhythm, wringing a moan from her parted lips, and when he slid one finger partway inside her, wild desire flared through her.
Thrashing beneath his hot mouth, Lily gave in with fierce abandon. It was too much…too hot, too intense, too overwhelming. Emotions stormed her senses, desire and pleasure and want and need. She bucked and cried out, reeling with the shattering ecstasy.
To Seduce a Bride Page 18
