“Miss Smith, let us be honest with each other, shall we?” How he managed to coax and command in the same breath, she didn’t know but his tone did both. “I have watched you…watch me…for many weeks now. You want this as much as I do.” His silky voice not for the weak or faint of heart. Ladies who easily succumbed to the vapors would have been a puddle at his feet by now.
Mesmerized, Elizabeth stood mute, inhaling his musky scent and fighting the weakness stealing over her limbs and making sawdust of her will.
His head began a slow descent giving her time enough to halt the whole thing before it went too far. “Would you like me to kiss you, Miss Smith?” He spoke softly and his voice lulled.
And for a moment she was lulled into believing that she had some control in this situation. That he had given that back to her.
“I-I do not make it a habit of kissing gentlemen I do not know—I mean a’tall.” She didn’t exactly push him way. She said precisely what a young lady of her rank ought to say but felt no satisfaction in it. Instead, it left her deprived, denied and wanting.
He chuckled softly. “Well there must be a first time for everything.”
The viscount possessed a sensual allure so powerful and intoxicating it rendered her willing and eager to experience everything he offered. She leaned in, pure need driving her. But before the distance between their mouths could be bridged, he halted and pulled slightly back. “I will not take what you will not give freely. What do you want? You only have to tell me,” he coaxed, his breath mingling with hers.
Elizabeth blinked several times before his handsome face came into focus.
Devil take him!
They had been doing perfectly well on the course he had set. Now, fully aware of the folly about to take place, she had no choice but to refuse him.
As if he sensed the turmoil roiling within her, he slid his hands around her waist, strong and possessive, so very familiar as if they hadn’t spoken for the first time just that evening. “Will you deny us both?” With his words, the roughness of his voice and his proximity, her battered resistance collapsed in total defeat. She wanted this just as much if not more than he did; had wanted him in some fashion since she’d first laid eyes on him.
She shook her head and before she could take another wispy breath, his mouth was on hers, claiming her wholly.
Derek Creswell may be a lord by birth and a gentleman in appearances and comportment but his kiss told her there was nothing remotely proper about him. He was carnality at its most sinful.
This was no soft and tentative kiss of new lovers but one so sensual and hot, it reverberated through her right down to the soles of her feet. His tongue traced the softness of her lower lip before plunging inside to coax hers into a delicious love play.
Plowing her fingers through the thick vibrancy of his hair, Elizabeth twined her hands around his neck, and tipped her head back wanting nothing else but to submit and feed the hunger pulsing inside her. Her tongue worried his full bottom lip. A groan of pleasure rumbled from his chest as he took the kiss deeper, drugging her into mindlessness.
He pulled her closer at the same time she pressed for more contact. The hard thrust of his erection prodded heavily against her belly. A rush of moisture pooled between her thighs. Elizabeth briefly broke the kiss and let out a ragged moan. Clutching her backside firmly in his hands, Lord Creswell angled her hips so he could fit his erection where she was wet for him, ached to be filled by him. Pleasure stole her next breath and she gasped, wanting only to push against him without the encumbrance of skirts, petticoats and stays.
The click of a door was the same as spraying cold water on two particularly amorous dogs. They sprang apart, Elizabeth wrenching herself from the warmth of his arms, her breath coming in short halting pants, her body still thrumming with unquenched desire.
A young girl’s tittered laughter filled the air. She was quickly hushed by a male voice and then all went silent but for the click of footsteps on the flagstone, until even that was no more. Fear of discovery made Elizabeth unwilling to chance a glance around their leafy shelter to ensure they were alone. Instead, she peered up at the viscount.
Except for the slight ruffling of his hair where her fingers had played, Lord Creswell did not appear all that affected by the kiss. But a look down revealed his erection straining against his black trousers.
She’d felt that pressed against her but the visual evidence of his arousal heightened her own.
“I should not have permitted you to kiss me like that.”
“Then how should you have permitted me to kiss you?” he asked smiling. “Or perhaps the better question would be where.” His gaze dropped suggestively to her breasts and then drifted lower. And lower still.
Dear Lord, he can’t mean he would ever put his mouth there. The thought should have repulsed her but the heaviness at her center returned anew, growing slick under his heavy-lidded gaze.
“I didn’t mean for you to kiss me a’tall,” she said, her face fiery hot with embarrassment. What she spoke was the truth. She hadn’t followed him out here to encourage much less participate in him taking such liberties. She’d wanted to meet him face-to-face and finally satisfy the curiosity about him she had harbored for six long years.
“Is that so? Well, I look forward to our next…meeting.” He spoke softly and smiled almost gently, as if he was privy to something she was not.
Perhaps thoughts of all the things he wanted—intended to do with her.
Her faced burned. “I should go back. Missy must be wondering where I’ve got to.” She hesitated, waiting but unsure of what. Certainly not to see if he’d try to convince her to remain where they could share more of those mind-drugging kisses. Her wanton response spoke for itself.
“I will not keep you then.” He sketched a bow.
It was for the best.
“It probably would not be wise if we returned together. I will use the entrance on the side. Rutherford keeps that door open for these affairs. If you like, I shall go first.” He lifted his brow in question, now all gallantry and polished composure.
Elizabeth agreed with a little nod and watched as he disappeared, silent and sure-footed, into the moonless night. When she heard the last of his retreat, she turned on her heel, dashed a quick glance around before making her way toward the French doors.
And then another voice emerged from the dark. “Why, Miss Smith, what a surprise.”
Chapter Three
At the sound of the nasally voice of Lady Danvers, Elizabeth immediately went as still as prey sensing danger. Instinct told her not to turn around, but to run and hide.
But she knew she couldn’t outrun the reach of the dowager’s influence and hiding would merely bring out the gossip hounds, who could sniff out a brewing scandal in their sleep.
Perhaps Lady Danvers hadn’t witnessed anything untoward and thereby worthy of gossip, malicious or otherwise. Perhaps she was merely stopping her to exchange pleasantries. A perfectly lovely fantasy.
With a smile fixed in place, Elizabeth turned to confront the danger head on.
Oh Lud! Lady Danvers’ presence would have been bad enough, but to add to Elizabeth’s growing dismay, at her side stood Mrs. Albright, one of her mother’s oldest and dearest friend. Her raised brow and tight lips conveyed a mixture of shock and concern.
What on earth was she doing here? Her mother had mentioned her friend would be visiting with her niece in London for a spell in the summer but had never mentioned an acquaintance with her cousin Missy or James.
“Who was that with you?” Lady Danvers demanded, her voice ringing out haughty and shrill. Her eyes, a shade of blue not heralded by the poets, flashed triumphantly behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.