She suddenly thumped down heavily on a stool at the back of the curtained area. It overbalanced, and she fell backward with a cry of surprise. She sprawled on her back, Jeremy between her legs, continuing his scandalous activity.
“Is everything quite well in there?” Mrs. Painter asked.
“Quite well, Mrs Painter!” Jeremy called out, “This cream dress is quite exquisite. I think we shall be taking it.”
“Very good, Your Grace. An excellent choice. The Queen of Denmark has recently worn something very similar. I will leave you to it.”
Jeremy glanced up at Harriet. He knew that his hair would be wild, ruffled by her skirt and her thighs as well as her clutching fingers.
Harriet's face was flushed to the roots of her hair, and her eyes bright as candleflames. Her bosoms seemed about to burst fromher low-cut dress, so pronounced was her breathing. She sat up, seizing his face between her hands and crushing her mouth to his. Then she broke away, brow creasing, licking her lips. Jeremy laughed.
“Yes, that is what that taste is. Something that not every woman experiences.”
“Merely the followers of Sappho and those fortunate enough to have been... worshiped,” Harriet shot back breathlessly, kissing him again and longer, as though to make a point.
As she spoke, Jeremy was hiking up the skirts of the dress, exposing her pale, soft legs. In the next breath, he was ushering her back to the carpet and lowering his head once more. Harriet gave a helpless squeak and then clamped her hand over her mouth as though remembering they were not alone. She writhed and squirmed as he resumed his worship of her.
Her thighs, smooth and alabaster, began to quiver and tense moments before they clamped tight around his head, heels digging into his shoulders as her entire body convulsed. Those convulsions tore through her in waves, wild and ungovernable.
Jeremy did not relent. He held her there, his mouth coaxing every last tremor, prolonging the exquisite torment until she shattered in his hands. Until the fierce, unbearable tension melted from her limbs and she collapsed boneless against the floor, undone, her body nothing but quivering aftershocks and release.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Harriet was a prisoner once more. Oaksgrove had shrunk since her trip to London. As she meandered through its gardens, it felt as though she were a wild bird that had suddenly found itself in a very tiny cage. She so desperately wanted to stretch out her wings.
“Penny for them?” Jane asked.
Harriet looked at her friend blankly for a moment, then realized that Jane had been talking and she had heard nothing.
“I'm terribly sorry, Jane, I was wool-gathering. What was it you were saying?”
“I was telling you about my day in Hyde Park with Viscount Heybridge, Phillip, as he is to me. After the drama of your exit, he was very gallant and concerned for your well-being, and for me, given how worried I was.”
Harriet blushed, embarrassed by her own self-centredness.
Jane is courting after all, and friends should share in each other's happiness. I must be more present for her sake and not dwell too much on the fact that I have been at Oaksgrove for almost a week with no word from Jeremy.
“He seemed a very nice man,” Harriet nodded, “I look forward to meeting him again and getting to know him more. Is he a future husband?”
Now, Jane blushed, smiling prettily.
“I think he might be. He is certainly making all the right noises.”
“And does your mother approve? What of Nash?”
“Mother does, very much. Nash is not Ralph. If he did not approve, it would not concern me overmuch. He does not rule me and, in fact, will approve of any man who will join him at the card table,” Jane shrugged.
“Ralph does not rule me,” Harriet muttered, irritation flashing through her.
Her friend looked at her askance. “I do not criticize. But I would be remiss if I did not point it out—look at the lengths you had to go to for a simple promenade in Hyde Park. The lies that had to be told.”
“And yet I was there, wasn’t I? Quite against my brother’s wishes,” Harriet pointed out. “He tries to control me, I grant you as much. But I will thwart him.”
AndI will be free… though perhaps I took my freedom much too far a week ago. The things I allowed Jeremy to do should not have been done. Not when our betrothal is false and possibly not even if it were genuine. I allowed him to seduce me… Or did I seduce him?
They turned in their circuit of the gardens so that they were walking towards the house. Mr. Beecham was standing on the veranda with one of the groundsmen. He seemed to be pointing out work that he wanted the man to do, but appeared to be looking in Harriet's direction rather frequently. She sighed in frustration.
“I feel like a fish in a too-small pond. Swimming round and round and constantly gawked at. I want to swim in the ocean!”
