His kisses became soundless and more lingering, his hands more sensitive and tender. And his lovemaking—oh, she never knew quite what to do about his lovemaking. That would have to stay as it was. There was nothing more a man could do about that. It was with his hands and his lips and his voice that her dream lover took away some of the emptiness in her.And with his splendid male body.
And oh, yes, she had suffered pangs of conscience, many a time, when her imaginings did not put her to sleep. Then she would come back to herself, feeling more lonely and dissatisfied than ever, and Teddy—dear, kind, affectionate Teddy—would be snoring softly at her side, unaware that he had a wanton for a wife.
Teddy. Diana floated on a cushion of fuzziness and wanted him. She wanted the terrible loneliness to go away. But Teddy was dead. He would never be there again.
Teddy. Teddy.
If she lay very still, if she did not fight the drugs, it would all go away. He would be there again. He would be weighting down the mattress beside her, warming the other half of the bed. If she kept very quiet, she would hear him breathing quietly and regularly in his sleep. He was not snoring tonight. He must be lying on his side.
If she reached out a hand, slowly, so as not to break the spell of the laudanum, she would be able to touch him.
She reached out a hand.
And touched him.
His arm was warm with sleep. Sleek with hairs. Firm and well muscled. He was not wearing his nightshirt tonight. Her fingertips moved lightly to his shoulder, lightly and slowly so as not to disturb the dream.A broad shoulder.She slid her fingertips lower. A broad, strong chest, roughened with hairs.Mm.
"Mm."
She had come, the Marquess of Kenwood thought, coming slowly awake to feel the barmaid's fingertips trace a light path up his arm, across his shoulder, and down to his chest. He had not even heard her come into his room or climb into his bed. The light touch felt very good. He would not have thought her capable of such subtlety.
"Mm," hesaid,the sound coming from deep in his throat.
He found her face with his hand and traced the line of her temple and cheek with his fingertips, his thumb brushing over one closed eyelid and across her lips. Soft, smooth skin—surprisingly so.
He felt drowsy still, languorous. But there were the stirrings of desire. He moved closer to her and set his lips to hers. Warm, soft, closed. He traced them lightly with the tip of his tongue, prodding gently at the seam until they parted, and then reaching behind her lips to tease the moist flesh there. Mm, she tasted good.
"Mm."
Oh yes, why had she not thought of this before? Oh, yes, this was how a kiss should be. Not just a smack of lips, but a lingering of lips, an exploration, a communication.And not just a communion of lips, but a meeting of mouths.Oh, yes, this was how it should be.
She unclenched her teeth and felt his tongue slide all the way into her mouth, circling her own tongue, stroking over the roof of her mouth.
Oh, yes, this was the way it would be.If she lay very still and very quiet.
The muscles of his back rippled beneath the light touch of her hand. His mouth moved from hers, and she would have changed the dream to have it back there again if it had not moved to her ear and if his tongue and his teeth and his warm breath there had not made her toes curl up with pleasure and something more than pleasure.
She could almost feel the warmth of his breath. If she did not open her eyes, she could feel it.
Her hair was unexpectedly silky and fragrant. She was wearing a nightgown. That too was a surprise.
The little wench must be a great deal more skilled than he had given her credit for. Not many females seemed to know how much more enticing it was to a man to have to strip away clothing than to be presented with instant nakedness.
He touched a small, firm-boned shoulder through the fabric of her gown and a breast that was smaller than it had looked earlier, but firm and very feminine. He rubbed a thumb lightly over its tip and felt it begin to stiffen. He touched her small waist, the enticing curve of her hips, her slim legs.
The stirrings of desire were converting into the beginnings of arousal.
Touch me,Teddy,she begged silently, her eyes tightly closed. Don't stop touching me. Don't stop now. It feels so good. Keep on touching me.
When his hand reached to just above her knee, he grasped the fabric of her nightgown and raised it. It was almost finished now, then. Soon he would be finished. She was not ready for him to finish yet. More, Teddy, she begged silently. Touch me a littlemore,kiss me for a little longer before you do that. She searched for, and found, his mouth in the darkness.
But his hand did not pause when the nightgown was raised to her hips. It continued to her waist, to her breasts.Of course.But of course.She had never thought of this before either.Whyever not?It was so obvious. She raised her arms in wonder as he stripped the garment away from her altogether and dropped it over the side of the bed.
She waited for his hands to come back to her, and experimented with moving her tongue over his.
Satin smooth skin.Beautiful, beautiful.And she was not all energetic gyrations, as he had fully expected from her behavior downstairs. She lay still but receptive. She knew more than any woman he had had for a long, long time just how to arouse a man. He willed himself to slow down. This one must not be hurried.
He set his mouth to the taut peak of one of her breasts and let his hands roam over her, pausing in places where he knew he would give pleasure and increase arousal. Her fingers were in his hair. She was making low sounds of pleasure in her throat.
