“There are some questions which I do not wish to answer just yet,” he conceded. “However, that does not mean that you are in the wrong for asking them. Someday, I would be happy to give you the answers that you seek. I simply do not know when that will be.”
“I see.”
“And I do not expect perfection from you.”
Somehow, she had a difficult time believing that, for she seemed to be doing everything wrong.
“Otherwise, you were quite well-behaved. You were quiet and polite, and you controlled your emotions, even when you were speaking to Lady Susan,” Lewis said. “I am proud of you.”
Her face warmed, and she raised her fan to hide the faint smile playing over her lips. Bridget swallowed hard, trying to force away the warmth and light that filled her chest at being praised by him. Since when did she care about receiving his approval? She was not some desperate maiden, who would swoon from the smallest amount of adulation!
“You were so well-behaved that I believe you deserve a reward for your efforts,” he added.
Her pulse leaped at the thought. “Truly?” She scarcely dared to breathe.
Maybe shedidcare just a little about his approval if he was finally going to grant her the pleasure that she had wanted for so long. Or if not that, maybe she might use the opportunity to learn more about this enigmatic man. She wondered when she had begun thinking about him as such, as someone who she might wish toknow.Bridget hesitated in lowering her fan. She did not want to appeartooeager. Looking so visibly delighted at finally being given the pleasure she ached for would be admitting defeat, and Bridget had never been good at that.
He sat on the seat opposite her and leaned forward, placing his hands on her thighs. Bridget swallowed hard and lowered her fan. She was torn between arguing with him and saying nothing. What was more important, her pride or her pleasure?
Bridget collapsed her fan and placed it on the seat next to her as his hands stroked her thighs. His palms were warm, and his touch sent her blood roaring in her ears. “Please,” she said, decision made.
Bridget would worry about her wounded pride later. At the moment, the pursuit of pleasure presented a far more compelling course of action.
“Of course, my wife. Shall I show you something that you have not seen before?”
The lump in her throat made speaking impossible, so she nodded her assent. He seized a handful of skirts and hauled them upwards. “Lift your hips,” Lewis ordered.
She did, and he pushed her skirts up past her waist. Bridget’s bare buttocks sat against the seat, and she drew in a sharp gasp. Lewis took her hips and coaxed her into arching her back. The position was disgraceful, and her sex quivered at being so exposed, both to his eyes and the cool air that swept over her.
He spread her thighs wider, and Bridget’s stifled a groan. She dug her fingers into the fine upholstery of the seat in an effort to brace herself, but already, her body was tight and taut with anticipation of the coming pleasure. Bridget feared that if he touched her even more than he already was, even for a heartbeat, she might come entirely undone. Her slipper-clad feet barely balanced on the edge of her seat.
“My beautiful duchess,” Lewis murmured.
With his hands grasping her hips, he lowered his head between her thighs. An anxious cry escaped from between Bridget’s lips, as his warm breath ghosted over her core. She watched with rapt attention, as he opened his mouth.
“You cannot possibly—” Bridget’s words of surprise were soon lost in a shriek of pleasure, as his tongue worked between her folds. “Oh, you?—”
She gasped, incapable of more than broken and incoherent strings of words. Bridget had never imagined that a man could bring such pleasure with his mouth, and her hips bucked from the seat. He was merciless, matching her every movement with his mouth. Wetness gathered between her legs, and Bridget clawed at the seat, desperate to maintain purchase. It was nearly impossible with the uneven streets of London, which sent the carriage jolting with even the smallest movement.
Each crack and hole in the road sent shocks of pleasure coursing straight to her core. Bridget’s legs trembled, as her husband worshipped her with enthusiastic kisses and licks. At last, his lips pressed against a wondrous place at the top of her sex, and Bridget’s muscles grew taut. Her breath came in helpless pants.
She cried out, as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. Black spots dotted her vision, leaving her wonderfully disoriented. Bridget felt like a star that had come to life in the sky without warning. Lewis smirked at her, but Bridget had no desire to chastise him for such a smug expression.
“Is…is there more?” she asked.
Bridget’s eyes darted to the large bulge outlined by his trousers. What would it feel like when he wasinsideher? Her walls pulsed with need, her body aching for his.
“Not today. We are nearly home, and you will need to make yourself presentable.”
Bridget’s face was hot, and when she looked down, she found that her flush spread all the way to the tops of her breasts. She squeezed her damp thighs together, the proof of her attraction obvious to anyone who would know where to look.
She worked her skirts down, making herself decent once more, and he chuckled. “Keep being my good duchess,” he said in a sultry voice. “And there will be more rewards for you.”
CHAPTER 27
“My husband has gone to see the Dowager Duchess,” Bridget informed her sister. “He visits her at this same time every day without fail.”
It had been two weeks since the garden party and Bridget’s wonderful reward in the carriage, and ever since, she had been thinking about her conversation in the garden with Lewis. Any hopes she had about the garden party bringing them closer together were destroyed almost at once, for he had said nothing more to her, aside from pieces of polite conversation, since returning.
