“Why not?” she could not resist asking.
“Your servants will see my arse from the upstairs windows.” His wry admission made her chuckle even as he kissed his way to her breast.
Shamelessly, she arched into him. Her nipple was pebbled, an undeniable offering rising beneath the fabric of her walking gown. Along with shoes and stockings, she also possessed an abiding hatred of corsets. Many of her gowns rendered it unnecessary for her to wear one, completely by design.
“You could keep your trousers on,” she suggested.
His lips latched on her nipple and he sucked. Despite the layers of fabric keeping her breast from him, the ache within her only swelled. “You are not wearing a corset.”
“No.”
“Dare I ask if you are wearing drawers?” His head dipped to her other breast, and he took that straining nipple in his mouth, too.
The sensation of the suction was exquisite. Not enough and yet so very potent.
“The answer is yes,” she managed on a hiss of pleasure as he bit her nipple gently. “For now.”
He kissed his way back to her mouth, and she clung to him hungrily, kissing him back. She had been teasing him about making love in the boat. For one thing, she had no wish to be spied upon by the servants, skeletal though the staff was because of the nature of Robin’s stay. But for another, making love in a boat sounded dreadfully uncomfortable. Besides, what if they overturned it in their passion?
The notion had her laughing into their kiss as she imagined the two of them splashing in the lake, their clothing sodden, their lovemaking interrupted.
He broke the kiss, staring down at her. “Is something humorous?”
“I was thinking of what would happen if we were to make love in the boat and it should overturn. Imagine—the two of us wet and bedraggled. How would we explain it?”
He laughed along with her, his husky chuckles sending sparks skittering through her. He was so handsome. And she was not just falling in love with him, she thought. She already had.
It had happened suddenly and easily rather than slowly and with painstaking progress. All these years she had spent as a bitter wife, thinking love nothing more than a chimera, and she had fallen in love with a man she had only known for the span of a week. How had it happened?
What would she do?
Kiss him again.
“Will you come to me tonight?” she asked softly instead, because as humorous as the thought of upending a boat in the lake in a passionate frenzy was, she wanted the comfort of her bed, all the better to savor the man, the moment.
The laughter fled him. His countenance went serious, and beneath the layers of her skirts, she felt the undeniable evidence that their kisses and her words had stirred him.
“You are sure?” His gaze searched hers, seeking, probing.
Glittering with desire.
“Yes.” Her susurrus fell between them, igniting a new fire.
He sealed their lips with another, deeper kiss.
A promise of all that was to come.
He had infused a new hope into her miserable life, and she was seizing it with both hands, accepting it greedily. Claiming it and him as hers.
While it lasted.
Chapter 5
To say I abhor the whelp would be an egregious understatement. His only use to me is in half the blood coursing through his miserable hide. The other half, I fear, is tinged with madness. However, I no longer have the luxury of concerning myself with such matters. Naturally, I shall deny that he is mine until my dying breath…
~letter from the Duke of Longleigh to The Honorable Mr. George Shaw
It had not taken Adrian long to discover his plan was destined to go horribly, utterly awry. The execution would have been flawless except for one problem.
