The footman greeted her with a polite nod and handed her a note.
It read:Find me.
Her pulse ticked up. He was up to something. Something delightful and wicked. He made it all too difficult to keep a care. How could she be worried when there were games afoot?
She refolded the note and hurried to his study. Dark and empty of his scent.
The library was similarly deserted.
She tapped the note against her lips. His bedroom? Hers? Those options seemed rather lacking in imagination, but she climbed the steps and made a thorough search. Neither hair nor hide of him did she find, not even when she checked under the beds. “Well, drat.” He wouldn’t be in the servants’ quarters, and she couldn’t imagine John ever stepping foot into the kitchens.
The dying rays of the sun illuminated the window, the hazy London sky burnished brick orange. She walked to the casement and pressed her palms against the warm glass, watching the last sliver of the sun dip below the earth.
A flicker of brightly colored fabric disappeared into the garden gazebo.
“Checkmate.” She spun, her skirts whirling, and darted from the room and down the stairs. She found the door onto the back gardens and pressed it open.
Even in the center of London, the high walls covered in thick vines created a quiet oasis. A lark called to its mate; crickets greeted each other. And the soft tapping of a heeled boot on a wooden floor met her ear.
She ignored the winding gravel path and crossed over the lawn, hopping over a low hedge to drive her quarry to ground. His face was hidden in shadow, but the crossed legs clad in cream-colored pantaloons identified the man well enough.
“I found you.” Her voice sounded breathless with excitement. She tried to rally indifference back into her words. “If this was to be a game, it wasn’t difficult. And I won,” she felt the need to point out.
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. It sent shivers skittering down her spine. “Finding me within the confines of one townhouse was not the game.” He uncurled into standing. “I needed you in the proper location to begin the fun.” Reaching forward, he stroked her cheek with the knuckle of his index finger. “And you won’t win. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Such arrogance shows you haven’t played with the right partner.” She lifted her chin.
“I haven’t played with anyone like you, of that I’m certain.” He circled behind her. “Are you sure you want to dance, poppet? You have the option of going upstairs, changing for dinner, and ignoring the attraction between us.”
“Sounds dull. Second option?”
He pulled the pins from her hair, flicking them to the gazebo floor one by one. “Second option involves you naked and moaning. Interested?”
Her nipples tingled. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. The degree of your pleasure only depends on your brazenness.”
She turned and planted her palms on his chest. She ran them up and down his waistcoat. “Then there’s no limit at all.”
His lips curled. “I love your assurance. It makes things that much easier for me.” He ran his knuckle over her breast, making the tingles gathered there shoot down to her core. “Take off your clothes.”
Netta’s breath caught. “Here?”
He shifted his hand, running his finger along the edge of her bodice, his bare skin finally touching hers. “Why not? You’ve shown a decided lack of concern in letting the servants see you in a state of dishabille. Besides, night is falling and this garden is private. Who’s to see?”
Netta bit the inside of her cheek. She was bold, but this might exceed even her audacity. Tall rose bushes circled the gazebo, providing a modicum of privacy, but there were definite gaps.
John dipped his finger into her décolletage, sliding it up and down.
Netta swallowed. On the other hand, it was a warm evening and she wouldn’t get many more opportunities to be tupped in a garden by a man who was becoming more enthralling by the moment. She gave him her back. “Unbutton me.”
He chuckled and leaned in close. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint,” he whispered in her ear. He made quick work of her gown and within moments Netta was pulling it free from her legs. With a deep breath, she untied the laces of her stays and slid it off her body.
John’s gaze locked on her bosom. She smiled to herself as she reached down and hooked her fingers under the hem of her chemise. She inched it up, the fabric dragging over her hips, catching on her breasts before sliding up and over her head. She stood before him in only her stockings and slippers.
A breeze caressed her bare skin, hardening her nipples to aching points. Or maybe it was John’s expression that affected her so. His eyes had gone hooded, his nostrils flaring. He looked at her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.
That kind of appreciation had an effect on a woman.
