Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“ T hank you for having me back so soon,” Nancy said, after she had had a sip of wine. She looked at everyone around the table. It was impossible to miss the light dusting of pink that rose to her cheeks when her eyes met Zachary’s.
“You are always welcome here, Miss Banfield,” Ian said. “If anything, I am most grateful for your having accepted the invitation to dinner. I have kept my wife busy here for too long, so far removed from the bustle and hubbub of society. I suspect she would grow sick of my company quite soon, were we not to have guests!”
Nancy laughed. “Oh, I am certain that is not true.”
“It certainly is not,” Cecilia agreed, turning her piercing gaze on Ian. Immediately, he felt a flood of lust rush through him. “As a matter of fact, I find life here in the country to be most entertaining. Unless it is I who is boring you, my lord?”
He tilted his head at her, smirking. “Not in the slightest,” he replied. “In fact, I can recall quite a few specific instances over the past few days where you entertained me most thoroughly.”
Cecilia’s face went red.
Zachary nearly choked on his wine. “I beg your pardon, Harwick?”
Ian kept his eyes on Cecilia. “I was merely saying?—”
“No, no,” Zachary interrupted. “No need to continue.”
Nancy, seemingly oblivious to the tension, smiled. “What sort of things do you get up to here? Pall Mall?”
Cecilia laughed at that. “No, not Pall Mall,” she said, before turning back to address her husband. “But do tell, Ian, what exact instances were you referring to?”
Her eyes bore a challenge in them, in spite of her pink cheeks.
“Oh for the love of God, Cecilia. I am right here,” Zachary complained dramatically and Cecilia rolled her eyes at him.
“I am a married woman now, brother.”
“No need to remind me.”
He held her gaze for a moment more. “I was going to say Cecilia’s picnic, my friend. Nothing that would not be appropriate for the dinner table,” Ian finally said, cutting another piece of his venison. “The other night.” He turned back to address Nancy once more, continuing, “Your friend saw I was working late, and conspired to pull me away from my work by preparing a lovely outdoor meal. If you think this meal is excellent, I assure you, that basket you brought quite put it to shame.”
“It was all Mrs. Fitzclarence’s doing,” Cecilia assured them, though she flushed with pleasure at the praise. “I can take no credit.”
“Oh, Celie, that is so romantic! A picnic under the stars,” said Nancy. She sighed, as though picturing it as a scene in a romance novel. “How sweet.”
“It was,” Ian agreed, smiling at Cecilia. “A sweeter meal I cannot imagine.”
“Yes,” she shot back at him. “You seemed particularly to enjoy the dessert, if I recall correctly.”
All day, she had been teasing him like so.
As the night went on, it became more and more apparent to Ian that, however innocent and inexperienced his wife may have been before their wedding night, she could almost certainly hold her own in a game of seduction.
To be fair, she did not have to do much. Cecilia was already such a tempting creature, whether she was outside arguing with him about Pall Mall or dressed in her finest evening wear at a ball. Now, sitting at the table and making small talk with her best friend and brother, she looked no less tempting than ever.
Particularly when, every so often, those green eyes flashed up at him.
She had indeed been quite busy with preparations for dinner, and Ian had made use of the time away from her to tend to his usual business. But several times she had come into his office to ask his opinion about a course or a place setting. Or else he would run into her in the hallway.
And she would say something in that tempting, suspiciously sweet tone of voice; would make some witty remark, some innuendo-bearing quip, that would damn near bring him to his knees.
Of course, as the day went on and she continued to tease him thus with no sign of release in sight, the less he felt a desire to fall to his knees…and the more he felt a desire to bring her to hers .
He wanted to taste her lips.
He wanted to feel the vibrations of her moans as they reverberated through both of their bodies, united in lust.
He wanted to tear the dress she wore from her, slowly, peeling off piece by piece and layer by layer until she was as desperate as he was, and to tease and tempt her and bring her pleasure she could have never imagined.
When they had stood next to each other in the hallway earlier, to greet their guests, she had pressed her hip against him in a way that was so subtle as to be imperceptible to anyone else in the room, but was enough to nearly drive him wild with desire. If they had been alone, he swore to himself he could have pressed her up against the wall and made her scream with pleasure right then and there.
The fact that dinner was so long only served to draw out his torture longer. He could not help but watched, transfixed, by the movement of her neck when she took a sip of wine, or the decadent curve of her lips with each bit of food that passed through them.
And while it was indeed a fine meal, in fine company, he could not help but wish the dinner were over already so that he could take her up to bed.
Even now, he was carried away by visions of what he might do to her were it just the two of them eating alone. Hoisting her up onto the table. Parting her skirts right then and there. Tasting every sweet inch of flesh as he drove into her, making her cry out his name?—
Ian realized Cecilia was still looking at him, awaiting a response. He cleared his head. “Yes,” he said. “I did. It was a dessert I much hope to repeat, very soon indeed.”
It was not his finest response, but it would do.
Cecilia smiled back at him, more self-assured pleased with herself than ever.
Her smirk only served to further confirm what Ian had been suspecting all day: once the dinner was over and they were alone once more, he was going to absolutely ruin her with pleasure.
After a moment of maintained eye contact, Cecilia cleared her throat, still looking at Ian but nodding her head in Zachary’s direction.
Zachary had scarcely spoken a word all evening, and it was easy to see why. Whenever Nancy was speaking, he stared at her raptly, clearly in awe of her beauty and vivacity; and when she was not speaking, he stared at her with just as much wonder, only nodding nominally at whatever the others said.
It was very sweet, to be sure. But it would not do much to help the man in winning the girl’s hand in marriage, if he could do little more than stare at her like a dog at an empty supper bowl.
Ian took Cecilia’s hint and turned to his friend. “Lindbury, you have been awfully quiet all evening,” he said jovially. “What is on your mind, old friend?”
“Hm?” Zachary startled to, as though he had been very far away, and tore his gaze from Nancy to look back at Ian. “What was that?”
Ian barely bit back a laugh. God, it was actually quite funny, seeing his friend so smitten. “You know, weren’t you telling me about a book you quite enjoyed in your letter, the other week? I know Miss Banfield is quite a reader, as well—perhaps she might enjoy the recommendation.”
“Oh, yes.” Nancy turned to Zachary with bright eyes as she continued, “I am always in search of a good book, my lord.”
“Books, travel, music—it seems the two of you have quite a lot in common,” Ian said casually.
“Do you enjoy music as well?” Nancy asked Zachary.
Zachary cleared his throat. “I—well. I am most certainly not as accomplished as you are, Miss Banfield. I have never studied pianoforte. Nor do I listen to it very often. I mean, as often as I ought! I should certainly like to more. You convinced me as much.”
Nancy’s brows rose. It was the most Zachary had spoken all evening, and all came out in a quick, stumbling ramble—but it did not seem to put her off, at least. “Did I? How so?”
Zachary flushed further, his eyes going nearly as wide as Nancy’s. “I only mean to say that—you made a very good case for the instrument the other week, at Cecilia’s musicale. You have quite the gift.” He took a quick sip of wine, and Ian noticed his hands were slightly trembling.
As the two of them fell into an easy conversation, Ian’s gaze could not help but drift back to his wife.
He was pleased to find Cecilia looking back at him.
“It seems they have quite a lot in common indeed,” he said, voice pitched low enough to not interrupt the others’ conversation.
“Yes,” Cecilia said pleasantly. “It is almost difficult to imagine a more well-matched pair, wouldn’t you agree?”
His brow raised. “Almost?” he asked lowly.
Her smirk broadened slightly. “Well,” she replied, “I can perhaps think of one. Perhaps even one sitting right at this very table.”
The candlelight danced across her cheek, her collarbone, her bosom. When she took another sip of wine, she held his gaze the entire time, licking her lips afterwards, in a way that made him swallow with desire.
Oh, yes. When the night was over, he would certainly have to teach her a lesson or two.