“That would be the greatest shame,” he said dryly, allowingher to pull him as if she were a horse and he the carriage. He wasn’taccustomed to following anyone, to bending to another’s whims. In the past,even with Eleanor, he had always had his way. She had deferred to him always.Indeed, now that he thought on it, Eleanor hadn’t seemed to have any whims ofher own. She had simply wanted to please him, but in a completely differentway. Maggie wanted to see him happy. By God, she wanted to make him laugh, ofall things, and she thought to accomplish it with raindrops. But as harebrainedas her idea seemed, what warmed his cold heart was that she cared.
“Don’t be a milksop, Simon.” Maggie tugged him to the doorbefore stopping and glancing back his way, looking almost shy now that she wasabout to have her way. “Are you ready?”
He trusted she wasn’t looking to his trousers, for if shewas, she wouldn’t have asked. He raised a brow. “Ready as ever.”
“We must dance,” she informed him. “Those are the rules.”
“Ah, now we’ve rules?”
“Every good game requires rules,” she confirmed beforethrowing open one of the doors and hauling him over the threshold in her wake.
The rain was as unrelenting as it was cold, but he dutifullyfollowed Maggie as she led him a few steps away from the house onto the gravelpath leading into the manicured gardens. She stopped and turned into his arms,looking up at him as water slicked her face and flattened her glorious curls.She was even lovelier in the rain than she’d been in the dry confines of thelibrary. There was something freeing, something ridiculously rebellious about beingin the midst of a thorough soaking with her. Before he knew it, he was smilingat her. He couldn’t help it. Her good cheer was infectious.
“Now we must waltz,” she informed him. “But take care, mylord. You almost appear as if you’re enjoying yourself.”
He laughed at that. He couldn’t help it, and he had toadmit, even if only to himself, that it was truly the first time he’d laughedin earnest in as long as he could recall. She was wild, his little wife. And hewanted more. “You’re making me as mad as you,” he said at last, still grinninglike a fool.
“You laughed,” she said, reaching up to cup his jaw.
The touch was so gentle and yet so arousing that he grewrigid again despite the chill and the moisture. His cock was hard as marble,aching for release that he could only find in her voluptuous body. His hair wasplastering itself to his forehead and he was sure he looked as if he’d escapedfrom an asylum for the frail-minded. But he didn’t care.
“I believe you requested a waltz, my lady,” he told her instead,enjoying every moment of their impromptu embrace in the rain. And with that, hebegan humming, leading them into a very proper dance that would have done anyballroom shame.
She followed, grinning up at him and blinking through theraindrops that continued to inundate them. “I did indeed, my lord.”
It wasn’t long before she’d trounced on his toes. She was anabysmal dancer, he discovered, almost gratified to find something at which shedid not excel. For it surely seemed to him that in most ways, his wife wasperfection. She laughed up at him, the happiest he’d seen her, and it struckhim that this was what she’d meant. Unabashed, raw happiness. Her cheeks wereflushed, her coiffure hopelessly defeated, the silk of her blue gown perhapsruined forever, and yet she was glowing, tilting her head back to laugh as ifshe didn’t care who heard her. It was infectious, and soon he was laughingalong with her as they twirled and she trod on his instep.
“Devil take it, you’re a horrid dancer,” he told her as shelaughed at another misstep.
“I am,” she admitted easily. “A proper gentleman would keepthat observation to himself.”
“I begin to think I’m not a proper gentleman.” He stoppedthem and yanked her into his body, tipping up her wet chin with his fingers. “Afterall, a proper gentleman wouldn’t do this.”
He kissed her, through the rain and the cold and the fearthat he was falling under the spell of the tiny American in his arms. Her handsflitted to his shoulders, her mouth opening to him. Their tongues tangled. Herelished the crush of her breasts against his chest, the heavy weight of herskirts against his painfully hard cock. She smelled of roses and autumn.
He wasn’t going to last much longer. He had to have her. Hewanted to strip the wet silk from her, reveal pale curves layer bymouthwatering layer, lay her on the library floor and press his rain-slickedbody into hers. He wanted to lick her sweet cunny, make her come on his tongueas she had before. God, how he wanted.
When he broke their kiss to gaze down at her, the laughterhad fled from her beautiful face as well. He recognized the same passionclaiming her that raged through him, the need to be one. Her breathing washeavy, her mouth open. Her eyes were the deepest violet he’d ever seen them.
“My God, Maggie,” he rasped. “I need you desperately.”
“Yes,” she said, gripping his hand once more. “Come.”
Once more, he allowed himself to be pulled back across thegravel path, through the torrent of rainfall to the library doors. He didn’tknow what had gotten into him. She’d done something to him, somethingirreversible, and it had nothing to do with dancing in the rain and everythingto do with her. If he wasn’t careful, he could love her.
Dear God. He wouldn’t allow that to happen. Couldn’t allowthat to happen. As they reached the dry sanctuary of the library once more, heturned his mind to the task at hand. Getting his wife naked.
He kissed her again, then began working on her buttons. Thelimpness of the wet silk wasn’t being overly cooperative, and his progress wasslow. Too slow. He’d ruined her train once, he reasoned. To hell with it.Grasping each side of her bodice in his hands, he tore with all his strength.Buttons fell to the carpet.
“Simon,” she gasped, perhaps shocked.
“I’ll buy you a new bloody dress,” he grumbled, yankingagain until her bodice fell open to her waist. “One without any damn buttons.”
She smiled, sending a foreign emotion slicing through him,and helped him to remove her arms from her sleeves. “I should like to see sucha dress.”
“Better still, I shall keep you nude for the rest of yourdays.” He gave her a wicked smile of his own, liking his idea immensely. “Tohell with the dresses.”
She shivered as she opened the hidden placket on her skirts,dropping them to the floor. She stood before him in her undergarments, herbreasts a creamy swell of temptation. He passed his still-wet hands over hersmooth shoulders, wanting her with an intensity that frightened him. “Are youcold, darling?”
