Kiss the Wallflower: Books 4-6

by Gill, Tamara

  Her fingers spiked into his back, drawing him close and he gave her what she wanted, thrust deep and hard into her willing heat. She threw back her head, gasping, and he kissed her neck, savoring her sweet perfume of jasmine as he pumped over and over into her.

  Their breaths mingled, their hearts thrummed loud enough that he was sure he could hear them. Her legs rode high on his hips and he reached down with one hand, holding her ass as he took her.

  “Oh yes,” she panted, her eyes fluttering closed. “Stephen…”

  Their actions were frantic as he pushed her ever closer to release and then he felt it, the small and then large tremors that thrummed through her core, dragging him along to climax. He pumped hard and deep, and she screamed, thrusting her hands above her head to push against the headboard as he fucked her without remorse.

  For a moment he stayed in her, sweat covered their skin as he regained his breath and wits. Never before had he ever felt the way he felt with Clara. He flopped beside her, pulling her into the crook of his arm. Idly, he played with her hair, sliding it off her damp forehead.

  “I hope I did not hurt you.”

  She rolled against him, laying her hand across his stomach to play with his ribs. “Oh no, you did not hurt me at all. In fact,” she said reaching down to take his semi-hard phallus in her hand, “it only makes me more curious about what else a man and woman can do. Our first encounter was quite enjoyable.”

  He chuckled at her mischievous grin. “Lady Clara, you’re a vixen.”

  She leaned over and flicked his nipple with her tongue, eliminating the concept of giving her time to recover from their first bout of lovemaking. He’d take her all night if she allowed it. “Only with you, Mr. Grant,” she replied, doing it again and making his morals fuzzy. “Now, show me more.”

  Stephen groaned, and yet, was only too happy to oblige her ladyship. “Of course. Let us begin…”

  Chapter 10

  Stephen arrived at Lady Clara’s estate just after luncheon the following day and found her behind her father’s desk in the library, a pile of missives and scrolls lying before her. She glanced up at him, pleasure written on her features when she saw him.

  “Stephen, you’ve arrived at the most opportune time. Please take me away from all this work.” She stood and came around the desk and walked to the bell pull on the mantel, ringing for a servant. “Shall we have tea?”

  “Yes,” he said, seating himself beside her and kissing her quickly. “How are you today? You look like you’re very busy.”

  “Father’s lawyers have left some estate paperwork for me, along with his will that they read here yesterday. I’m trying to take everything in that has fallen on my shoulders and catch up with correspondence that had arrived during father’s illness. I think it will take me some weeks to get through it all.”

  Stephen glanced at the desk. There was certainly quite a lot of papers to sort through. “When do you have to leave to make way for the new Duke of Law?”

  She frowned, leaning back into the sofa. “I do not have to make way for anyone. The house and most of Papa’s properties were not entailed. Father’s family had a modest Tudor estate several miles from here that comes with the duchy, but this estate was owned by my mother’s family. It was my great-grandmother’s ancestral home and is handed down to the eldest daughter. We’ve always lived here as father preferred it to his own modest estate. So I do not have to go anywhere.” She threw him an amused grin. “Are you sick of being my neighbor already, Mr. Grant?”

  He shook his head. “No, never.” He took in what she said and what it meant. She was an heiress, that he always had known, but now, the land and estates she must own, well, it placed her far above his expectations, his abilities to court a woman of such high rank. Disappointment stabbed at him that he could not be what society expected Clara’s husband to be.

  There was a light knock at the door before a footman came in carrying a tea tray. He placed it before them, then stood to the side. “Lady Clara, a Lord Peel is here to see you. He waits in the foyer.”

  Clara’s eyes widened, and he noted the flicker of fear that entered her blue orbs. She glanced at him, and he squeezed her hand. “If you wish it, I will not leave you while you’re speaking with his lordship.” Although what Lord Peel needed to say to Clara, Stephen couldn’t fathom. The man should return to London and stay there. He’d thought he already had, but even now that fiend loitered about Kent and near Clara.

  “Show him in.” She adjusted her seat and Stephen stood, positioning himself before the fire to await his lordship’s entry.

  They did not have to wait long before the strutting peacock walked into the room and stopped at the sight of Stephen.

  “Mr. Grant. I did not expect to find you here.” Lord Peel pulled off his hat and gloves, handing them to the footman who hovered nearby.

  “I’m taking tea with Lady Clara.”

  His lordship came and without waiting for Clara to say anything, sat himself beside her. He poured himself a cup, thereby leaving Stephen without one. “I wished to call and to ensure that you are well, my lady. You have had a terrible personal blow and I wanted to show that you have my support in any way you choose.”

  Stephen raised his brow. I bet she does, you cad!

  “Thank you, my lord. That is very kind.” She poured herself a cup of tea, and for a moment Stephen watched as they enjoyed their repast. “What brings you back here, my lord? I thought everyone had returned to town.”

  “To offer my condolences once again, and to see that you have everything in hand. In times like these, please feel free to use my expertise in relation to running estates, investments, servants’ salaries and such. I’m more than capable in running multiple properties, which you, with your delicate constitution, will not be.”

  Stephen masked his chuckle with a cough at his lordship’s words. Delicate constitution… Was the man blind to her annoyance or simply too dumb to realize it? Either way Clara nodded as if his lordship spoke the truth and her mask of indifference did not slip.

  “All is in hand, my lord. Anything that I find challenging I have my father’s steward to guide me.”

  He reached out and patted her hand and Stephen glared at where he made contact with her. He didn’t want Lord Peel or anyone touching one piece of her if he could help it. He stilled at his own thoughts. When had he become so possessive of her? When had he started to think of her as his and no one else’s? He supposed their coming together a night past had something to do with it, but also over the last month of seeing her battle against her father’s illness, seeing a vulnerable side of Clara, his heart had softened toward a woman he’d once thought the spawn of the devil.

  “Mr. Grant has been a great help these past weeks. In the ones to follow I’m sure all will work out. He’s my neighbor if you do not know, Lord Peel.”

  Lord Peel scoffed and, finishing his cup of tea, placed it on the small table before them. “Is that what you aspire to be, Mr. Grant? A steward, a bookkeeper for a great house such as this one? I’m sure I can ask around London and see if any of my friends are looking for a new employee in that field.”

  Stephen narrowed his eyes on the viscount, well aware of the game he played. He wanted Lady Clara for himself, that he’d known for some months, but to treat him with so little respect, to mark him as a person beneath the ton’s notice would not be tolerated.

  “I’ve leased Marquess Graham’s estate and so I’m not in need of a steward. I have hired one already.” Of course he would have preferred to have not had to rely on his brother-in-law’s charity to enable him to make something of himself. What man did not want to become successful in his own right? But unlike Lord Peel, not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

  The Marquess may have enabled him to live the life which he now did. Had bestowed on both him and his sister Sophie a small sum of money, but it was not enough to keep him forever without occupation.

  To keep the lifestyle he
now lived, he would have to work the land, budget and run the estate as well as any high-born lord would.

  “Yes,” Lord Peel said, rubbing his jaw as if he’d spied a delicious sweet. “I heard the Marquess had leased the property to you, and for a fraction of what it was worth. I should imagine no respectable man would accept such charity. You are obviously not such a man.”

  Lady Clara stood, coming to stand beside him. “Thank you for coming, Lord Peel, but I think it’s time you leave.”

  His lordship stood, adjusting his cravat. “I do apologize, Lady Clara, but as an equal I feel it is my duty to remind you and warn you of those who would take advantage of your sadness. Other than his sisters’ exalted marriages, we know nothing of Mr. Grant. He may be a charlatan for all we know.”

  “Would my fist in your face make us better acquainted, my lord? I can certainly bestow you the honor if you choose.”

  Clara set a hand upon his arm, stalling him from following through on his threat. How dare the bastard say such a thing? Stephen wasn’t sure if it stung more because there was a ring of truth to what he said or the fact that it was simply because Lord Peel had said it.

  He did not need the prig before him telling him that he was not worthy of Lady Clara. He knew that himself. A boy born and raised in a cottage in Sandbach with three rooms, an impoverished aunt and very little means told him that himself. Not that he didn’t think he was worthy of her hand, he would do as well as any other husband, but she was a duke’s daughter, he was the son of servants who worked for nobility. He knew as well as anyone that she could never be his.

  Stephen fisted his hands at his sides and Lord Peel cast a glance at his hands before bowing before Clara.

  “I look forward to seeing you in town when you’re there next, my lady. I wish you well.”

  Stephen watched him go, glad when the sound of the front door shutting echoed in the house. “I apologize, Clara. I have little patience with the man and he well knows it.”

  She turned, surprising him by taking him in her arms, linking her hands at his nape. “I like that you stood up to him. He’s a bully and thinks he can get away with it. Not with you it would seem.”

  He stared down at her, marveling at her beauty. He reached down and slid his thumb across her jaw, so soft and perfect. “I have a confession.”

  She grinned, a devilish light entering her eyes. “You do. What is it?”

  Stephen wrapped his arms about her waist, holding her close. “I want to kiss you.”

  She threw him a knowing smile and then leaned up and kissed him. Stephen met her halfway, having thought of little else from the moment he’d snuck out of her bed in the wee hours of yesterday morning.

  “I have a confession too,” she whispered against his lips.

  “You do?” he asked, pausing. “What is it?”

  Her fingers played with the hair at his nape, sending delicious shivers down his spine. “I’ve wanted to kiss you again too.”

  * * *

  Clara wasn’t sure when she had fallen for Mr. Grant, but there was little doubt that her affections were truly engaged now. He’d supported her through one of the most difficult times in her life, never flinching or running away when days with her father had become too hard to bear. He’d been her rock, her support, the one person she could cry before and not feel shame. After taking him to her bed, there was no denying that she was falling in love with him.

  She reached up again and kissed him. His lips were soft, willing, his tongue filling and inflaming her. His large hands clasped her hips, circling her back and pulling her hard against him. His previous kisses had been coaxing, teasing and soft in nature. She could not say the same about this one. Oh no, this one was demanding, hungry.

  Starved.

  His mouth covered hers, drawing her into a dance of desire and need. Clara squeaked and then chuckled when he swooped her into his arms, striding to a nearby leather chair and sitting down, placing her on his lap. She wiggled, making herself more comfortable as heat pooled at her core. He stared down at her a moment, their faces scant inches from each other and she reached up to clasp his stubbled jaw.

  “What is it?” she asked, when he continued to consider her.

  He shook his head, his lips remaining sealed.

  She wrapped her arms about his neck, running his hair through her fingers. His locks were soft and thick. “Tell me,” she pleaded, not wanting to have secrets between them.

  “Only that,” he said, pausing. “No matter how much time we have together, know that for me it will never be long enough.”

  Clara’s heart ached at his words and although she did not know the full meaning behind them, she did wonder if he thought that their time would end. She certainly did not wish it to end anytime soon, there were so many more things she wanted to do, to experience with him. But that did not mean that Stephen had different plans for his future, different goals and dreams other than a wife.

  She started at her own thought of becoming his wife. A duke’s daughter, she’d not given much thought at all that this, whatever it was between her and Stephen, would lead anywhere.

  She had been so against him in the past, cutting and dismissive. Shame washed over her that she’d been so awful and judgmental. Her friends would certainly be shocked at her turned-about opinion, and there would be some who would distance themselves from her over her choice.

  His lips brushed her neck and all thoughts of her friends and their prejudices toward those who had less than them flew out of her mind. His hand moved up to cup her breast, which felt tight and enlarged under her gown. His finger and thumb found her pebbled nipple and he rolled it between his fingers. She gasped through the kiss, wanting him with a feverish need.

  The kiss turned inflammatory as she explored his body. His chest was hard, his breathing as rapid as hers and she could feel beneath her palm the hard ridges of muscle that lined his stomach. There were too many clothes, too much separating them. All she wanted was to be rid of their clothing so she may see all of him again.

  “Touch me.” His voice was husky and low and she could hear the need that tremored through his words.

  Clara stroked lower and the pit of her stomach clenched when her hand closed around his manhood. Thick and hard and ready for her.

  “Clara,” he gasped when she stroked him. “Stop,” he said, his hand halting hers. “Or you’ll find I’ll lose myself in my breeches like a green lad.”

  “I don’t mind doing this for you.” She met his gaze and without looking away, flicked open each of the buttons holding his breeches closed. A muscle ticked in his jaw, his face took on a hard edge and she marveled at how handsome he was.

  She glanced down to see his member as it sprung free from his breeches. Perfect, just as she remembered. Veins ran the length of his manhood, and a little droplet of moisture sat at the head of his phallus. Clara wiped it away with her thumb.

  He groaned, laying his head back against the seat.

  “You undo me.”

  His words pushed her on and she wrapped her hand about him, stroking him, playing and teasing his flesh. Marveling as it swelled and deepened to a purple hue.

  He wrenched her in for a kiss, her mouth opening for him as he devoured her. Moisture pooled between her legs as he moaned through their kiss and that’s when she felt him push up into her hold, pumping against her hand as he found his pleasure.

  Clara broke the kiss, her body aching for what she now knew he could give her.

  “Now it’s my turn,” he said, his gaze heavy with determination and heat. Clara shivered, expectation thrumming through her at being with him again.

  “What would you like me to do?”

  What would he like her to do? What wouldn’t he like her to do would be a better question. She’d brought him pleasure and now he was going to make her shatter in his arms. He hoisted her to straddle his legs, fighting with her black gown to pool at her waist. There was too much clothing, too much separating them and he wa
nted it gone.

  She lowered onto his lap and he reached beneath her gown, sliding his hand up her silky-soft thigh until he reached the apex between her legs. He slid his hand across her mons, delicious moisture met his fingers. She was ready for him, and his cock twitched at the idea of sheathing himself in her hot heat.

  “I’m going to touch you now,” he whispered against her neck, breathing deep her scent of jasmine. She smelled good enough to eat and the idea of doing just that, tasting her, kissing her to climax almost had him picking her up, laying her on the settee and delving between her legs.

  She nodded, her cheeks flushed. He slid his hand over her flesh, cupping her. Her hands spiked into his hair, pulling his strands. Her body undulated above him as he found the slit in her pantalets and rubbed her sweet nubbin in a circular motion.

  A breathy moan escaped from her lips as she continued to slide against his hand. Stephen slipped one finger into her hot core. She gasped, her hands frantically clasping his shoulders for purpose. The sight of her coming undone by his touch left him growing hard at a rapid pace.

  “Do you want more, my lady?” he asked, reaching up and hooking his hand along the bodice of her gown. He slid the material over her ample bosom, exposing her to him. Stephen could not look away from the sight she made. That of a woman who was enjoying his touch, a woman learning of what pleasures can be had between a man and woman.

  He leaned forward, kissing her puckered nipple before taking it into his mouth. Her fingers dug into his skin.

  “Oh yes,” she gasped, rocking against him. “Please.”

  Stephen took his hand away, reaching around to clasp one perfect buttock and hoisting her against his manhood. Her heat slid against his cock, wet and ready. Her eyes widened at the newfound sensation and damn it all to hell it felt good. Too good not to have again. Too good to walk away from.

  He guided her to slide against his cock. “We can do this without going any further.”

  She nodded, her eyes glazed with desire and he grinned. He took her nipple into his mouth, scraping the puckered flesh with his teeth before laving it with his tongue.