‘It is of no matter,’ Max murmured as they waited for their eyes to adjust to the almost impenetrable dark. ‘Though he may suspect I have the diamond, he will be unable to declare it to the world.’ He gave a soft chuckle and took hold of Patience’s hand. Her heart thudded in response, but although she glanced down, she didn’t remove it.
Gradually, shapes began to materialise in the blackness. ‘It will take us much longer to quit Bamford’s property than it did to get in,’ the Marquess whispered. ‘We’ll need to take extra care to avoid a broken leg or worse. It would not surprise me if there are traps laid for any unwary footpads.’ He could just make out his companion’s nod, and warily, they began the slow route back the way they came.
Despite their fear, they encountered no unpleasant traps, and although the journey seemed to take forever, they emerged out into the lane unscathed. There was as yet no sign of Bamford, and Max suggested they stay off the main thoroughfare to avoid running into his or indeed anyone’s carriage.
Twenty minutes later, they approached the back entrance to the Earl of Ravenstone’s rented townhouse. Slipping through a small gate leading into the secluded back garden, Patience realised she did not want the evening to end. The Marquess was still holding her hand and didn’t seem inclined to let it go. The air was redolent with the heavy scent of honeysuckle, and any tiredness after their exertions had entirely vanished. Indeed, she felt almost giddy with elation.
Turning to the Marquess, she impulsively went up on to her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you for putting your trust in me,’ she murmured.
For a moment, he didn’t move, seemingly stunned by her actions. Wondering if she’d gone beyond the pale, Patience searched his shadowed face just as the moon slipped from behind the dense cloud, illuminating his starkly beautiful features. Unable to help herself, Patience gasped at his momentary unguarded expression of agonising need revealed by the silvery light. Instantly, the same jolt of heat she’d felt before slammed into the very core of her. So intense was the sensation that she inadvertently uttered a small moan.
Hearing her low mewl, Max lost what little control he had. With a muttered oath, he put out his hands and pulled her unresisting body into his arms, his mouth swooping down to cover hers in an all-consuming kiss. For a second, Patience was still as his mouth slanted over hers, then with an incoherent murmur, she opened her mouth and sank into him, her hands creeping up to curl around his neck and into his hair. Now she was claiminghim,her lips moving under his, her tongue sweeping over the seam of his lips until he gave a low groan and set his own tongue to plunder her mouth.
Her complete surrender nearly sent Max over the edge. His hands slid down from her shoulders to grip her scantily clad bottom, crushing her against his hardness, pressing her where he needed her most. In response, she gasped against his mouth, her nipples hardening like pebbles as they rubbed against his shirt.
Patience had no idea what had happened, she was simply swamped with a need that consumed every inch of her. As she pressed against the hard planes of his body, the tingling between her legs began to build, and feverishly, she pressed her unbound breasts against his chest, seeking … she had no idea what.
At length, Max tore his mouth away and stared down at her, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. ‘Not here love,’ he groaned. ‘We may be seen.’ Patience shook her head in protest, then looking towards the corner of the garden spied a small summer house. Max’s eyes followed hers, and with an incoherent murmur, bent and lifted her into his arms, swiftly carrying her to the shadowy refuge.
Once inside the shelter, he allowed her to slide down his body, and as soon as her feet touched the floor, his mouth took hers again, but this time, his fingers slipped between them, seeking to part the flimsy material of her shirt. As soon as his questing hand revealed bare skin, his fingers slipped inside to cup her breast, his thumb instantly rubbing across her already hardened nipple.
‘Max,’ Patience panted, squirming against his hardness. It was the first time she’d used his given name, and to hear it from her as she writhed beneath his touch was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard.
‘Easy love,’ he groaned, knowing that in her innocence, she had no idea what she sought. His mouth descended onto hers again, his kisses now turning languorous as his tongue darted in to tangle with hers in a way that turned her insides to liquid fire. Patience moaned deep in the back of her throat, completely surrendering to the heat coursing around her body.
Then suddenly, shockingly, he gently pushed her from him, and she felt a jolt of fear deep in the pit of her stomach. Fear that he would stop. Fear that he would push her away. Fear that she would be forced to seek her bed without everknowing.
Instead, he stared down at her, his eyes almost midnight in their intensity while he parted the rest of her shirt, slipping it from her shoulders and baring her breasts to the silvery moonlight. Bringing his hands up, he cupped each milky globe using his thumbs to tease the nipples into hard points. Patience closed her eyes, allowing the exquisite sensations to flood her senses.
On and on his fingers continued to torment her, stroking unrelentingly until she was squirming under his hands. Then suddenly, she gasped as he lifted her again, moving backwards until the back of his legs hit a small sofa. Patience grabbed hold of his shoulders as he sat, seating her on his lap, placing one leg either side of him. She could feel an unaccustomed wetness between her legs as she instinctively began to ride the hardness she could feel under his breeches. Then she almost screamed as his warm wet mouth circled one hard aching nipple, the sensations slamming directly into her core. Patience moaned as his mouth went from one nipple to the other using his tongue and his teeth – gently nipping until she was helplessly grinding herself against him, right on the verge of … something.
As if he could read her thoughts, Max put one arm around her to hold her still and used his other hand to undo her breeches, all the while his mouth continuing its onslaught on her nipples. Slowly, he slipped his hand inside, then slid his middle finger into her wetness allowing his thumb to rub back and forth against the small nub at the tip of her core.
Just one rub was enough. Helplessly bucking against his finger, Patience fought the urge to cry out as waves of feeling crashed through her, and she held onto him tightly, riding out her pleasure as pure sensation travelled from her breasts to her core and back.
When Patience finally came back to the present, she stared into the Marquess’s eyes in complete disbelief, then touched his face wonderingly. Max groaned at the feel of her soft fingers. It was taking every bit of willpower he had not to make her his completely. His cock was so hard in his breeches it hurt.
But he couldn’t. Not unless she agreed to wed him. It would mean taking something he had no right to.
And then she bent her head, touching her mouth with his, gently exploring his lips until he gave a low groan and crushed her to him, his tongue now darting in to tangle with hers. Her hands followed the same path as his earlier as she sought to open his shirt seeking the hard nakedness of his chest.
Abruptly, he tore his mouth away and grasped her hand, his touch at first hard, then gentle as he pushed her hand away. Patience stared at him confused, then raised the hand he’d removed to stroke his face. In her eyes was the question of why he hadn’t taken her fully. She might be an innocent, but she knew that he hadn’t experienced the same crescendo she had.
Without answering, he moved to cradle her in his lap, pulling her shirt closed to cover her nakedness, before leaning back, taking her unresisting body with him. Then he tucked her head under his chin and simply held her close.
∞∞∞
Percy stared down in horror at the motionless Earl.
‘Tare an’ hounds, Percy, I can’t leave you for five deuced minutes.’ To the Reverend’s complete shock, his curate turned around and threw his arm around the larger man’s neck.
‘Steady on,’ Augustus Shackleford frowned, patting Percy’s back awkwardly.
‘I thought you were dead, Sir.’
‘Well, I’ve no doubt there are more than a few around here who’ve been put to bed with a mallet and tucked up with a spade,’ the Reverend muttered, ‘and your deuced wailing is loud enough to wake all of them.’
‘I ... I’m sorry Sir,’ Percy sobbed.
