Dancing With the Gull (Revenge of the Wallflowers, #14)

Chapter Fifteen

Penelope wasn’t exactly sure what Lord Henry had done to her, but it had been glorious. Was this something that all people could do? Was this the intimacy she’d always heard hinted about and hadn’t truly understood? Due to her familiarity with animals, she knew what mating looked like, but she’d never seen a mare look like she would melt into the floor due to the attention from her stallion. That was precisely how Pen felt right now, as though Henry melted every bone in her body. She was nothing but warm wax.

And he wanted her to use words. Words other than his name.

She blinked, feeling quite foolish, but unable to do anything other than gaze at him.

He prompted, “Perhaps you wanted to set a date?”

That roused her from her stupor. “I suppose people will expect that.”

He gave her a small smile. “It is the only way to get married.”

She watched him carefully. “Is that what you want? To marry me?”

That leaching of personality happened again. “Of course.”

What did it mean? Why did he freeze up so oddly? “You don’t have to marry me, Henry.”

He nodded, as though they’d just discussed the weather or some other mundane thing. “I see. Well.”

And he walked away. He’d turned her into a melted puddle of candle wax and he was walking away. Should she try to stop him? Should she demand that he talk to her until she understood how his mind worked?

***

HENNY FORCED HIMSELF to say all of the proper things to his hosts before he took his leave.

What did Lady Penelope want of him? She’d willingly crawled into his arms. She’d keened and moaned and panted his name. If he thought about it too much, he would need to take himself in hand in this carriage before he even arrived home.

Blast, but she was beautiful and responsive. Her breast was even more alluring than he’d imagined all those weeks ago when he started to desire her. A beautiful, plush pillow with an upturned berry of a nipple. What he wouldn’t give to strip her down and bury his face in those breasts. To go back and forth, sucking each one until she was panting and begging him to touch her, to enter her.

Dammit, he was hard as stone again.

Why didn’t she want to marry him? That was all he could assume from her insistence that he didn’t need to marry her, that she wasn’t interested in marrying him. He would endeavor to be a good husband to her. He thought he could be. She wasn’t a shallow creature. She could enjoy a life of dogs, cats, and horses. They would want for nothing of a material nature, even if her wants were more expensive than he thought they were.

Their marriage bed would clearly be very enjoyable.

He was back to wondering how he was supposed to convince her to marry him. She’d said that if he kissed her again, she would likely marry him, but that clearly wasn’t true. They’d done much more than kiss. He felt that he’d made his intentions clear. Was this even the first time she’d sought pleasures with a man? Was he more a pleasant distraction than a potential husband?

He tortured himself by smelling the hand he’d plunged in her. Her scent was an intoxicating musk on his skin. He wanted her. He wanted her in all of the ways a man could want. By his side, in his bed. They should be returning from the Wilkins’ home together. She should be here in the carriage with him. She should be teasing him about his cockstand, stroking him, perhaps even taking him in her mouth.

The thought of her on her knees in this very carriage almost undid him.

He opened his placket and took his throbbing cock in hand, imagining it was her touching him. Smelling her scent, he gripped himself and imagined how it would be. Her hand, her mouth. Minutes later he was groaning his completion, spending himself in hot spurts. He’d never come so fast, not even when he was young. She did that to him.

He cleaned himself up and spent the last few minutes of the carriage ride home trying not to think of Lady Penelope Barshaw.

***

SARAH SAT ACROSS FROM her, eyes dancing. “Well?”

Penelope didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t expected home for at least another hour, so that would be plenty of time to talk. If she wanted to talk. She had to admit that having never really had close friends, she wasn’t quite sure what she should and shouldn’t share.

“You look well kissed,” Sarah observed.

Pen nodded.

“One might even say well-sated,” the other woman pressed.

“I’d not expected that,” Pen admitted.

Sarah leaned forward. “Expected what?”

“He, well, he touched me. In surprising places.”

Sarah sat back. “Really! He always seems such the perfect gentleman, it’s hard for me to imagine that he would do that, at least so quickly.”

“Perfect gentleman?” Pen prompted, unsure what the other woman meant.

“Oh yes, of the three of them he was the only one who treated me with the deference you hope all gentlemen will.”

“Oh?”

“Lord Sharpe is, as you know, terribly aggressive. Even while dancing or, well,” she dropped her voice, “kissing.”

Pen arched a brow. “You kissed all of them?” A terrible sense of jealousy rose up in her and had to be squelched.

Sarah shook her head. “Not Henny. He was too much of a gentleman, and then I was too distracted by Kit to try to seduce a kiss.”

Penelope couldn’t imagine choosing the relatively dull Kit Wilkins over Henry Greer, but certainly had to be happy that Sarah would.

Sarah scooted closer. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Pen frowned. “Then he asked me if I wanted to set a date, I assume for the wedding.”

“Oh! I’m thrilled for you.”

Pen wasn’t sure what to say. Even though it was a relief to have someone to talk to with some frankness, the Wilkins were Henry’s friends. If she did not marry him, and she was still uncertain that she would, then she would likely only be the barest of acquaintances with Sarah Wilkins. She could certainly not share the truth that they’d only meant to use a false romance to ward off treasure hunters.

In all honesty, they didn’t really need to be spending time together when there were so few people in Town. However, she enjoyed time with him. He was refreshingly positive, well-mannered, and had an understated sense of humor that she thought most people missed.

Now she’d discovered that he could also make her tremble and pant with a pleasure she’d never imagined. Even thinking about his hands on her caused an echo of pleasure to ripple through her.

Why was this so difficult? She didn’t really want to give up on the dream of a cottage all her own, surrounded by pets and books. But now she could also imagine a future with Lord Henry Greer, if he wanted her, still surrounded by pets and books. That was the particularly difficult part. She didn’t want to become precisely the sort of woman she’d endeavored to protect him from, trapping him into a marriage he didn’t want. Not that she knew for certain he didn’t want to marry her, but caution dictated that she be sure that he did before proceeding. Knowing that, having any certainty, was complicated both by how difficult it was to spend time alone together, and by how little Henry expressed what he was thinking. And lud, now time alone would be complicated by other distractions.

“I’d best return home before my mother worries,” Pen said, rising.

Sarah rose as well and gave her an impulsive hug. “Call on Ana tomorrow and I will meet you there. She will want to hear all about this.”

Pen nodded with a smile even though she wasn’t sure that she wished to continue talking about it further, within an even larger circle.