He had been so close to tasting her breasts. To nuzzling between them, to lifting her skirts and burying himself between her thighs.
Lady Midnight had become a mystery.
Reuben hated mysteries.
This was why he preferred histories to novels. Things that were concrete, and true, and over. No mucking about wondering what to do or say, or why this instead of that. All the answers were right there, in page after page of stark facts, just as Reuben liked it.
When lured from his library to trysts like this one, he was a man of equally straightforward desires: to couple with as many women as possible. Eligible women, that was. By which he meant ineligible. Reuben stayed far away from virgins and debutantes. Lonely widow? Come hither. Unhappily married? No scruples here. Independent woman enjoying the freedoms of spinsterhood? She was free to ride his cock all night long.
Lady Midnight’s anonymous letters had left no doubt that she was exactly Reuben’s type: sensual, experienced, explicit. She knew what she wanted, and she’d spelt out each deliciously carnal act with mouthwatering precision.
So… why the devil had she left? In hindsight, he supposed she’d been acting oddly from the first. Like a shy ingenue, rather than a randy widow.
Reuben didn’t mind a bit of make-believe. He’d spent plenty of nights with actresses, several of which stayed in character as their starring roles—or something significantly naughtier. “Oh no, don’t despoil me, you wicked highwayman; I’m an innocent virgin!” was a popular game.
Not the script he’d been expecting tonight, but then again, nothing about his encounter with Lady Midnight had gone as expected.
With a sigh, Reuben rose to his feet and brushed the wrinkles from his evening attire. The night was young. There was plenty of time to go back to the inn and try to coax a purr out of Lucifur, or perhaps resume reading his latest tome on ancient Egypt’s several known female rulers.
Better yet, mayhap Reuben could find Lady Midnight and drag her back out here to the garden to indulge their shared desires.
Problem was, he hadn’t got a good look at her. The stars were out, but the moon was not. Just enough light to indicate he might have recognized her if he knew her well, but not enough light for a detailed view of her features. To his consternation, despite giving her body his full attention whilst she sat on his lap, Reuben would not be able to pick her out of a crowd.
As for giving anything she’d said any of his attention… Damn it! These encounters were never political arguments or philosophical debates. It was just kiss me here and touch me there, if there were any words at all.
With frustration, he recalled that she might have said her real name. “I’m not Lady Midnight, I’m…” Nothing. Whatever name she’d said had disappeared into the night like a puff of air. He hadn’t paid attention, because it hadn’t mattered. They had met for one reason only, and were meant to consummate that reason, after which he would move on to the next woman.
Except the only woman he could think about was—
“Lord of the Stars?” purred a familiar voice. “Are you still out here?”
Reuben sprinted out from behind the hedgerow fast enough to ignite sparks on the soles of his boots. He came to an immediate and sudden stop.
There, on the walking path before him, was a sultry-looking woman a decade older than him. This was not his Lady Midnight. This was the wife of an elderly earl in the House of Lords.
“You waited!” She ran up to Reuben and threw her perfumed arms about his neck. “It’s me, Lady Midnight. It took forever to get away from… oh, that’s not important. I’m here now. I trust my letters left no doubt as to what I want?”
Bloody hell.
Reuben swung her behind the hedgerow and out of sight from the barely-ajar ballroom door, the muscles of his limbs reacting with pure instinct. He’d done this dance countless times, and was appalled to realize he was no longer interested in fulfilling the promised fantasies. At least, not with the woman currently in his arms.
If this was Lady Midnight… then who the devil was the woman Reuben had been making love to? The baffling, ephemeral Lady Crack of Dawn?
It was difficult to think it through, what with the real Lady Midnight pawing at him and gnawing at his mouth. Reuben supposed this was his cue to retake his seat on the stone bench, but he couldn’t quite force himself to tup this woman in the same spot he’d intended to make love to Lady Dawn.
He’d never taken himself for a romantic fool. Indeed, he’d laugh in the face of anyone who suggested such nonsense. Nonetheless, Reuben carried Lady Midnight deeper into the garden until he found a further, colder stone bench that didn’t remind him of Lady Dawn.
At least, it wasn’t supposed to remind him of Lady Dawn. During most sexual rendezvous, Reuben had no trouble losing himself in the moment. Unfortunately, he hadn’t stopped thinking of Lady Dawn since the moment she left. Couldn’t stop thinking of her even now, wishing it were her mouth devouring his, her naked breasts in his hands, her legs wrapped about him.
He was going to do whatever it took to find the mysterious Lady Dawn. Her name would be the next conquest on his list if it were the last thing Reuben accomplished.
“Ohh,” moaned Lady Midnight. “Oh!”
He lifted her off his hips without reaching climax himself. Now that he’d fulfilled his promise to pleasure Lady Midnight, Reuben had no interest in tarrying with her any longer. Not when there was a vixen out there called Lady Dawn to find and to tup. She’d invited him to do just that tomorrow morning at the Blushing Maid Inn, but he had no intention of waiting that long. If she was still here in the ballroom…
He adjusted his breeches and straightened his cravat. “You were lovely, darling, but I fear I must go.”
Lady Midnight, well-practiced in these sorts of trysts, didn’t want a prolonged goodbye any more than Reuben did. She was already straightening her gown, and paused only to blow him a coquettish kiss. “You know how to reach me when you want to do it again.”
