Chapter Twenty-four
Ramsey called himself a great many things after Grace departed. In fact, he was still calling himself more colorful versions of those things that evening as he readied himself for the Ryman ball.
But even the greatest scolding he could deliver to himself couldn’t deter him from seeing her again, or at least trying. He was honest when he had said that he’d never experienced addiction, but he was quite certain he was a victim now. Before, she had haunted his thoughts, teased his curiosity, and provoked his frustration. Now, she was a siren that fed his need for her, and he wasn’t going to be satisfied till he had every part.
Which only meant one thing.
He’d have to marry her.
He wasn’t against it, which was shocking enough, but the current deterrent was finding a way to approach the conversation with Heathcliff.
No. He could think of a million other things he’d rather do. In fact, as his valet tied his cravat for his evening kit, he compiled a list of things he’d rather do than approach Heathcliff about Grace.
Have malaria.
Drink cold tea for the rest of his life.
Have a doctor give him leeches.
Drink that horrible confection Mrs. White gave him when he was sick as a lad.
Swim the Thames in winter.
Yes. There were a great many things he’d rather do, but unfortunately, he had no other option. He had quite completely ruined Grace that afternoon—even if he had said otherwise—and he was quite certain that only the slight possibility of Heathcliff knocking on the door had stopped him from making it a thorough ruining indeed.
His body flared to life with the memory of it.
He cleared his throat, and his valet stepped back to behold his handiwork. With a quick bow, and Ramsey’s nod of approval, the valet quit the room, leaving Ramsey with his thoughts.
Immediately those thoughts turned back to Grace. Dear Lord, he loved even thinking her name. She had been a siren in his arms.
Only two aspects could have made the experience more complete.
For her flaming red hair to be down and splayed across his pillow.
And for no damn clothes on either of them.
His body had pulsed with need, and he’d nearly lost himself when she had tightened around his fingers. It was only sheer determination that had kept him from taking her completely, spilling himself within her and taking every part of her delicious body.
He burned with it now, the desperate need. It was overpowering, and he doubted his self-control to be content with anything less than complete satisfaction. And the Ryman ball wasn’t the place to ruin innocent ladies.
But, he grinned in spite of himself, she wasn’tcompletelyinnocent anymore.
And it was at his hand, his kiss, his touch that she’d experienced her first pleasure. He loved that, damn, he loved her. Even if it was a lustful love, he was quite certain it had a deeper root, one that was as insane as his need for her. He only hoped she would be open to his courtship . . . his advances.
Good Lord, let her be a willing participant.
He had seen the light of awareness come into her expression as she came back from her surge of pleasure. She hadn’t gone into hysterics; no, she’d taken it all with aplomb, but she’d also had several hours to herself to think, and there was no guessing what had transpired between then and now.
Well, he would know soon.
The time was approaching to depart, and with a good long moment of thinking about less desirable things, he was able to be presentable in polite company.
So it was with a determined stride that he entered his carriage, and set forth to the Ryman ball. The bays sprang forward as soon as he rapped on the side of the carriage, and he leaned back into his seat, expectation his companion.
As they started down the familiar streets of Mayfair, he allowed his mind to wander ahead to the ball. He was slightly late, which only meant that Grace would likely already be in attendance. It was a calculation he’d intentionally made in order to alleviate some of the pressure on his patience. It was in short supply, and he rather thought he should keep his patience in reserve for the time he needed to act the gentleman when the woman in question made him lose all sense of reason.
They rounded a corner, and he leaned slightly to the left with the motion, but the carriage squeaked in a fashion that wasn’t usual, and his ears perked at the sound. The carriage continued on, and Ramsey had almost dismissed the noise when a snapping sound reverberated through the carriage. Instinctively, he gripped the window, anchoring himself as the carriage swayed, slowed, and then came to a complete halt about five blocks from the Ryman residence. Ramsey’s breath was tight as he took account of the situation, then as the footman opened the door for him, he carefully stepped from the carriage into the waning evening light.
