Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
White Orchids
A s a general rule, James hated promenades, especially in the perfectly maintained and absurdly manicured St. James Park. But to every rule, there were exceptions, and he found that this promenade was an enjoyable one. He wasn’t lying earlier. This was the most fun he had had in a while. In forever, if he were being honest with himself.
He couldn’t quite specifically name what made this promenade so vastly different. It could be the twisted idea that the woman reluctantly holding onto his arm was exactly that, reluctant. Not an obligation that his grandmother had forced upon him, not a too-eager granddaughter of a friend, not a lady thinking she could change him with her love.
But since he was in the realm of honest truths, it was all because of Diana. Her , specifically. She was a different breed to what he was used to.
An unsettling thought.
He decided that it was best to focus on the winding path that he had purposefully chosen. He told himself that he did it so he could vex her more. These were not well-reputed paths. Oh, they gave many excuses—rare flowers were some sparse art that could constitute enough reason to draw a lady out here. He should know.
“How about this way, My Lady?”
“Is it closer to the carriages?”
“Do not worry, I am not cutting our promenade short.”
“Pity.”
“It would be to be deprived of our banter. I find that I quite enjoy it.”
“You do?”
“Wholeheartedly. Though I feel obliged to warn you.”
The look in his eyes was clear enough. It was too steady and tinged with dark amusement. He didn’t have to voice any warning—Diana got the message loud and clear. Her wide, shocked eyes told him as much.
“You assume I am afraid,” she almost stuttered.
“No, My Lady.” His voice dropped in an openly seductive way. “I assume you should be.”
There, this is much better.
James enjoyed the little delay in her step as his words rendered her speechless. He felt less irritated now that he had managed to vex her, unsettle her, and make her uneasy.
But if he was this irritated, why did he guide her here for her sake? To relieve her of the titanic effort of maintaining a strained smile while mingling with the ton, who openly regarded her as if she were a spectacle. Eyes followed her, and gossip was exchanged behind fans as they glided by the Serpentine. Here, they were away from prying eyes.
He proudly noticed that her gait changed. She walked more freely, lighter, and he offered that to her. Only, he was not supposed to make her life easier. Quite the opposite. This experience was supposed to irritate her and irk her. Yet, here he was, going out of his way to make her more at ease.
And what was the reward for his unspoken good deed? To see her relaxed, her body gliding lightly. Her hips swaying.
That last part was punching holes in his logic.
And this silence… Sure, Richard would know how to comfortably remain silent, show restraint, take the weight in a sure way, and give weight to a well-timed pause.
But James was not Richard. To him, silences were—quite frankly—terrifying. It left others the opportunity to observe him, and James did not appreciate the scrutiny. So, he filled the silences with walls and reinforcements disguised as wit and charm.
Not that she was observing him. She was not. She was supposedly enthralled by the scenery, an excuse James was not eager to believe. He could almost hear her count the minutes before he escorted her back to her haven and away from him.
Not so easily.
“You seem to have your blade sheathed, My Lady.”
She jumped up at the sound of his voice as if she had completely forgotten he was there.
“I am merely wondering if I should be concerned that you know your way so well around these secluded paths, My Lord,” she retorted, still looking ahead, her eyebrow cocked.
“Are you suggesting that I am a reckless rake with no sense of decorum?”
She looked up at him with her most bored expression. “Yes.”
He chuckled. She was nothing if not refreshing.
“You are not like most ladies,” he admitted in a rare bout of honesty.
Her steps faltered, a brief hesitation. For the first time since they started walking, she seemed caught off guard. Her eyes widened just slightly before she narrowed them.
“I am most certainly not.”
There she was! Βack in control.
He pushed the boundaries. She took those boundaries and threw them at his face. Little by little, he gave a little more, promising that this would be the last inch he would give.
Oh, the things he would love to give her.
That thought bypassed all security measures in place to avoid rash decisions. He inhaled sharply at the intrusive thought, and he had to cough a little to hide that momentary loss of control.
Diana didn’t seem to notice, and that added salt to injury. There he was, noticing every little thing about her. How a stray strand of hair bounced on her neck, how she closed her eyes when the breeze picked up a little, how delicate her fingers were. And she didn’t even notice when his body tensed to the point he was ready to pounce on her.
“Mrs. Bremford.” Diana turned to her old chaperone. “I am sure you’re tired. Perhaps we should head back.”
James barely held back a laugh at her open attempt to cut their promenade short.
“Oh, no, My Lady. I can go on for a while.”
I like the old lady. This is truly amusing.
James reveled in Diana’s huff. Seeing her go red with barely restrained fury was the highlight of his day. She stomped off as if this would end their walk quicker, and with glee, he followed her.
When he searched for the chaperone, he found her completely enthralled by a bunch of white orchids that bloomed off the path, way back. He looked down at Diana, but it seemed that she hadn’t noticed.
He trembled. He was practically alone with her. He could, of course, slow his pace to allow the chaperone to catch up with them. He could even do the decent thing and let Diana know of the precarious situation they were in.
Decent?
James grinned. He was a lot of things, but decent wasn’t his preferred flavor. So, he picked up his pace just a little.
Stealthily, he pulled her closer to him, just a little, just enough that more of her touched him, that the hem of her dress grazed his legs as they walked. He could feel the warmth of her body, the heat radiating off her. Such a pity. He could sense the fire burning underneath her cold exterior. A fire that would remain unkindled as long as she remained unwed.
Suddenly, he resigned himself to the fact that today, now, with her, the walls around his sanity were crumbling. Because a thought struck him so sharply that he felt it in his stomach.
She would never know pleasure.
A woman like Diana—sharp-tongued, clever, burning with barely restrained defiance—was expected to live a life devoid of indulgence simply because Society dictated it.
A man could do as he pleased. He was living proof of that. He could drink and gamble to his heart’s content. He could pursue and bed whomever he desired. And all that with minimal to no consequences.
But her? If she were to remain a spinster, she would never feel that sweet quiver of desire, that unraveling of her body. She would remain untouched.
Unless she’s already touched herself .
His mind was outright betraying him today. It brought forth an image of Lady Diana in her bed, in her thin shift, her hands moving between her legs and?—
“Ahem.” He coughed loudly.
Diana looked up with momentary concern.
Oh, she should be concerned .
“Did it turn a bit chilly, My Lord?”
“Quite the opposite, My Lady.”
She frowned in question, but since the answers did not bring forth any excuses to cut this short, she walked on.
James was at war with himself. His thoughts were more winding than the path ahead, with more twists and turns. Someday, some man might come along, whisper sweet words in her ear, pull her closer, and replace her hands with his. He would touch her and promise her things that James knew he could deliver better.
No, he saw her first. He noticed her spark first. If she was to know pleasure, it would be because she chose it. And if she chose it, then, by God, he wanted it to be with him .
“You are lost in thought, My Lord.” Diana’s voice cut through the air, her tone lightly mocking.
James glanced at her, then his lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. The moment was now. If he let the moment pass, it would be lost forever.
“I was simply considering something, My Lady.”
“And what, pray tell, could be so fascinating?”
Chance—or fate—would have it that they were in the darkest, most secluded spot in the whole park. And with no chaperone in sight.
James stopped walking and stepped closer to her. Not as close as he would have liked, but close enough to be felt. For her to notice.
“My mind wandered again to the matter of your unwed state. I applaud your decision and your determination.” He lowered his voice. “But tell me, My Lady, have you considered what you are giving up?”
“You presume I am denying myself anything of importance.”
“I understand. Marriage can mean shackles, and it can be a trap. It also brings…” His voice turned intimate. “… pleasure.”
The moment that word left his lips, James knew that everything changed. This game of theirs changed. It became deeper, something more. There was no turning back now. He didn’t want to go back. He liked it.
“Denying pleasure,” he continued, stepping closer until her back was pressed against the bark of a nearby tree and his frame towered over her. “That is quite the sacrifice. One that shouldn’t be made lightly.”
She lifted her chin and clenched her jaw. She was fighting for control, fighting to expel the thoughts he was pouring into her mind, into her body, into the pit of her stomach.
“Marriage doesn’t guarantee pleasure. The married ladies you have seduced are a testament to that.”
A sharp crack of the whip. James shivered in rapture to see her lose the decorum she clutched onto for dear life. One inch closer was all he offered.
“Ah, I agree, My Lady.” His voice now was a low purr that rumbled in his chest. “But with the right man, pleasure can be the most exhilarating feeling.”
She swallowed. His gaze flickered down, catching the way her pulse jumped at the base of her throat.
“Th-That,” she stammered, “is none of your concern.”
James felt the turning point. The undeniable reality of her truth. It was indeed none of his concern. Then why couldn’t he give up? Why did he fight all his self-imposed rules to give her more than he set out to do? He was standing at the edge. He could step back or fall.
He made his decision.
“But if it were?”
He reached out slowly, deliberately, and traced his knuckles along the underside of her jaw. Not touching, not fully, but enough that she would feel the heat of him.
“I could show you pleasure, My Lady. Real pleasure.” He was whispering now, his breath fanning her face.
Diana’s lips parted. Not a lot, just slightly. Enough for him to lose his sanity, all walls, barriers and lines forgotten and blurred. It was as if he was charming a woman for the first time.
His hand rested on the trunk behind her, and he leaned in, so much so that their breaths mingled. He was breathing her in and could almost taste her. He searched her face for any hint of discomfort. There was none.
She wanted this. And damn his dark, rakish soul, he wanted it too. He wanted it more than anything, and though it made his heart pound, he would take it. Or else he would lose his mind.
And then?—
“Lord Crawford! Lady Diana!”
Reality crashed down on them like a bucket of cold water as they heard the clicking of the chaperone’s shoes on the path.
James cursed softly and jerked back, his jaw clenching.
Damn it .
He took back all the nice thoughts he had of the old woman. She was a menace.
Diana regained her senses quickly and even wrapped her hand around his arm, though he could feel her shaking.
“Ah, Mrs. Bremford, there you are,” she said, her voice trembling.
“I thought I lost you,” Mrs. Bremford sighed, completely oblivious to the monumental moment she had interrupted.
“Well, no one is lost,” Diana assured her as she fixed James with a glare.
It seemed that she finally got what she wished for because the walk was cut short after that and James was in no position to keep her from running away from him.
As they headed back to her carriage, James mulled over what had happened. Fate had given him a choice once more. He could apologize for going too far, for pushing too hard, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to. He wanted her, her shallow breaths, the heat of her body. He wanted her no matter how infuriating she was, no matter how stubbornly she fought him at every turn. If anything, that only made his need worse.
He gave her his hand as she made to climb into her carriage. He pulled her hand to his lips, forcing her to lean toward him.
With his breath on her skin still, his hooded eyes locked onto hers, he murmured, “The offer still stands, My Lady.”