Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
E vangeline did not know entirely what was happening to her, but what she did understand was that her body came alive whenever she was around Ezra.
Her betrothed.
Although she did not want to be married under the circumstances in which they were being made, the fact that he was here, visiting her, gave her a little hope that perhaps their future would not be as bleak as she imagined.
He had not wanted a wife, and she had not wanted a husband who did not adore and love her. To be forced into marriage merely because their secret kiss was revealed was not the ideal start to a marriage.
And now this exterior threat who wished her to keep away from him… Well, she could no sooner keep away from him than she could not draw air.
She liked him. Far more than she liked anyone else of her acquaintance, and while she would not admit to such feelings to him, they were there, and she could not ignore that a small part of her was happy they were engaged.
Even if he were not.
She was a terrible person for feeling that way and ought to stop inwardly gloating that she had secured the hand of Lord St. George.
"I am sorry that the circumstances in which we're being wed are not ideal, but I promise I will try to make our marriage not tiresome for you."
"You do not tire me, Evangeline. Not at all." He reached for her hand and played with her fingers, a small frown between his brows. "While I may not have wanted a wife, I also did not want to see you married to anyone else. Each time I saw you dancing with another, I wanted to rip you from their embrace. So perhaps that we are now engaged and my hand has been forced, it has saved me from making an even grander mistake than what we're about to do."
"A bigger mistake? How so?" she asked, needing to know what he meant, to hear everything he was thinking.
"A bigger mistake in the fact that I would have lost you to another. That you would have married and moved away, and I would not have seen you. Talked to you. Danced with you." He met her eyes, his a stormy blue she could lose herself in. "Kiss you whenever I wanted."
"You enjoy my kisses, my lord?"
He nodded, leaning forward and just about touching his nose against hers. "I like kissing you far too much."
"Are you going to kiss me now?" Her body sizzled to life and she reached for him, slipping her arms about his neck and pressing herself against him. She forgot where they were, sitting in the window before Grosvenor Square, or the threat they now lived under, but nor could she raise an ounce of care to what anyone else thought or saw.
They were engaged. He was hers and she was his. Let the people talk if they were nosy enough to be watching the ducal home.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked in all seriousness.
She drank in the sight of him. As much as she was scared for what their marriage would be like—she still wanted him more than she had desired anyone in her life. That had to count for something and be a blessing in an otherwise discombobulated pairing.
"Yes." Evangeline doubted there were any women in London who did not wish for Lord St. George to kiss them. There was a danger about him, a wildness that she had glimpsed at Lord and Lady Wilcox’s masquerade ball that she wanted to see again.
She wanted to feel the passion that she roused within them both. He was addictive, her own vial of laudanum.
"Well, since we're betrothed I suppose I can indulge you this once." He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers.
Something within her snapped at the feel of his mouth on hers, and she kissed him back with all the passion she could muster. And with Ezra, there was much of that. She kissed him, mimicked all he had taught her the last two times they’d kissed, and her eagerness paid off.
He kissed her back, swept her up into a world in which she forgot herself. This kiss was never sweet, no slow seduction—it was hot, wild, and tainted with a need that was all consuming. She could not deny herself of him.
She was two and twenty after all. She had waited so long to find a husband, and to have one that made her feel so wonderful inside. A boon she could only dream of and be thankful for.
He pressed her back against the window frame, his hand slipping against her waist to cup her breast. She moaned into the kiss and he pulled back, dragging her from the window and toward the settee.
Evangeline went with him, did not question his motives or plan. He sat and looked up at her, his eyes heavy with desire. She went to sit beside him, but he wrenched her onto his lap instead.
She chuckled, but soon sobered when his warm, large hand clasped the hem of her gown.
"You cannot do that here. The door is unlocked."
"Let me remedy that." He picked her up as if she weighed nothing but a feather and set her on the settee. He strode to the door, the snick of the lock the only sound in the room other than her rapid heartbeat.
His gaze bore into hers as he slowly returned to her side. "I promised the duke I would not touch you. I fear, Lady Evangeline, you're going to make me a very bad man."
She shivered at his words and bit her lip. He looked wild and untamed, and goosebumps rose on her skin with expectation.
"How bad can you be?" She wanted to know everything and anything she could about what a future between them could be like. Already she was addicted to this side of marriage. If he were to fall in love with her, dote on her, she would be lost forever.
"Very, very bad." He knelt before her on the floor and pushed her to lean back against the chair. She did as he asked without question, her body alight with anxious expectation.
His gaze bore into hers as he placed his hands on her knees, slowly pressing her legs open. Even with the yards of material, she felt exposed by his action, and heat kissed her cheeks.
He did not stop watching her as he reached around and clasped the back of her knees, pulling her toward him a little. She made a little squeak of alarm and his lips twitched.
"Do you trust me?"
She nodded, although she had not the slightest idea what he was about to do, but something told her this was naughty and not at all allowed for a couple just newly betrothed. This was not what she was supposed to be doing with a man who was not her husband—or in a parlor in her sister's home.
What if someone walked in? Or her sister caught her? What if, and yet, she did not care and nor could she stop him. A wicked fascination had taken over her and she could not deny either of them.
"I trust you," she answered when her tongue decided to work.
"Good girl." He slid her gown up over her knees, exposing her silk stockings. He leaned down, his mouth pressing hot, wet kisses on the sensitive inner skin of her thigh. His mouth paid homage to both legs, his fingers playing with the ribbons that held up her stockings.
She watched him, unable to tear her gaze from his determination and patience. Unable to comprehend that there was a man between her legs kissing his way up her body.
A shiver shuddered through her, and she wondered if she would survive his plan. Evangeline could not stop squirming. An inkling of what he was about to do had taken flight in her mind and would not abate. Surely he would not. It wasn’t possible what she was envisioning… The thought was too preposterous. And yet, he continued to kiss his way up her legs, his tongue sliding against her flesh as if she were a goddess to be worshipped.
He was too much—the hunger in his eyes, his focus on her was overwhelming—and she was unsure she would survive years of being loved by this man. Already he consumed far too much of her thoughts, and his actions so far had left her a little obsessed.
Her gown bunched about her waist, and he pushed it back farther, exposing her crotchless drawers. Evangeline could not speak, merely held her tongue, hoping he liked what he saw and that she would not die of embarrassment.
Ezra threw her a look that conveyed his pleasure and determination.
Dear God, he was deadly handsome.
He dipped his head and brushed his lips over her mons and she gasped, lost to the sensation that shot through her body. She clutched the back of his head, her fingers fisting his hair, grounding herself against him, sure it was the only way in which she could stay on earth.
For surely, she was going to heaven.