Chapter Eleven #4
He took in a jagged breath. “You’re quite skilled already.
“But there’s more, isn’t there?”
“Oh yes, there’s more.” He scooted back on his heels.
“But you are going to make me wait, aren’t you?”
He made a long, low, tortured sound. “We are in my cousin’s library.”
“Are you always going to be so concerned about our specific location? Or are you eventually going to give in and ravish me whenever—and wherever—we mutually desire?”
He gave her that flat expression that held just a hint of warning.
“Oh dear, I quite like that little stern look. Surprising, really. In the past, I might have been insulted. Now that I know the fire that burns inside you, that look makes me feel kind of bubbly inside.”
“I’ll have you know, I would happily satisfy you in every room in every house I own, could we but be certain we would not be interrupted by any servants.”
“Satisfy sounds divine.”
He arched a brow. “Did you say bubbly?”
“Umm, bubbly.” She nodded. “Like champagne.”
He groaned again. “If you were covered in champagne, I’d lick you all over.”
She laughed, low and husky—a laugh she hadn’t even known she could make. One that she would make again, if it always kindled such deep-burning fire in his eyes….
“Even here?” She loosened her neckline and drew her hand provocatively across her breast.
His hesitation lasted less than a breath. “Especially there.”
Then, over the fabric of her gown, his lips closed around her nipple. She gasped. Then, he parted her dressing gown and, with his tongue, made a wet, lazy path up over her collarbone.
The shocked heat she remembered from the yew maze had nothing on the inferno in her belly now.
“Now, we are going to stop,” he whispered roughly. He adjusted her chemise and retied her rail. “And you are going to go back upstairs. And you’re going to bolt the damn door in case the devil in me takes charge, and I follow you up.”
That he would even suggest such a thing warned her how far they’d gone.
“Yes, Augustus,” she said meekly.
He braced himself on the chair, rose to his feet, and then helped her stand. As Sarah had done earlier in the night, he tucked away stray locks of her hair. Then, he adjusted the wrapper over her shoulders and secured its ties.
Presumptuous, perhaps, but she liked his fussing.
“Before I go, may I tell you something first?” she asked.
He looked wary. “Tell me what?”
“I’m not teasing,” she said. “I promise.”
He placed warm hands against her shoulders. “Very well, then.”
“I want you to know I feel as safe with you as I felt in Mr. Winter’s shadow.”
He cocked his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to explain.”
Oh? She thought she had told him about the hiding. Or maybe she only thought she had because he had been treating her with such tenderness.
“Mr. Winter was the gamekeeper who used to help me hide from my father.”
He got that red-eyed look again. “Oh, Millie.”
“He put me to work, though. He not only taught me how to clean and prepare a firearm—how to pack a pan—he helped me improve my aim. ‘Steady hand, even gaze,’ he’d say, ‘if you’re determined to make a hit, you will not fail.’”
“You haven’t.” He placed one hand on his heart. “You hit me here.”
She glanced away. “Look what you’re doing to me!” She sniffed. “And you, too. Tears! I should think you would be happy.”
“I am… contented in a way I didn’t think possible.” He sucked in. “Contented, frustrated, and terrified.”
“I understand the contented, and the frustrated, but terrified might be a bit overstated.” She said lightly, even though she was terrified herself. “This is only a wedding, after all.”
“Only a wedding,” he repeated. Again, he cupped her face. “Calm my fears. Tell me again you only want me.”
“Only you. Desperately. But you just won’t oblige! Here I am in my sister’s night rail. She did say it was her thickest—
He silenced her with an urgent, hot kiss.
“Now,” he panted, “If we don’t stop, I will deflower you on the ducal floor. And before you argue the merits of such a blunder, please take into consideration that I would never forgive myself for the insult both to your person and to Harbury’s hospitality.”
“You’re a good man, Auggie Merriweather.”
“Yes. Very good.” He scowled. “Too damn good. I want you like… like…”
“Don’t trouble yourself seeking a comparison.” She gave him a small, secret smile. “I know what you mean.”
“Then”—he kissed her forehead—“you had better leave.”
She nodded, then she turned.
She, too, was dizzy and full of longing, full of want. So full she could imagine announcing her change of heart to her family in the morning. So full she could imagine taking her vows in front of a solemn clergyman. So full…
She glanced back over her shoulder.
He was staring up at her with his hands tightly clasped.
She smiled briefly and looked away. Her good, decent Auggie had refused to compromise her in Harbury’s library.
And, though she had quite wanted to be compromised at the time—she still did, though she would take his advice about the bolt—it was enough that Neville had wanted her so much, he’d almost broken his word.