“That’s not why,” she said honestly. “I won’t support it because I think Mr. Murrayisfalling in love with Bea and she with ’im.”
“We’ll see about that.” Knighton donned his hat and gave her a stiff nod. “Good day to you, Miss Sheridan.”
“Good day, Your Grace…” she began.
He was already walking away. Surrounded by his jacket and lingering scent, she looked after him, wondering who had broken his heart. And she didn’t know if it was her tinkering or womanly instincts that made her yearn to mend it.
5
The following night,Severin lay with his hands behind his head in one of Lady Beatrice’s guest chambers. The late summer heat wasn’t relieved by the open window, so he slept in the buff, a sheet draped over his lower half. He stared up into the canopy of the tester bed. It was the wee hours, yet sleep evaded him, probably because of his looming failure.
The encounter with Fancy Sheridan yesterday had spurred him to take control of his courtship. He’d spoken with Lady Beatrice earlier today, again pressing his suit and pointing out his opponent’s weaknesses. He’d made a tactical error. His attempt to open her eyes to the kind of man Wickham Murray was had provoked her ire. She’d told him in no uncertain terms that she would not marry him.
Severin knew a losing proposition when he saw one. Clearly, Murray had won the lady’s heart, which seemed to rule over her head. Pity that. If she’d been more clear-eyed and less emotional, she could have been exactly what Severin was looking for.
Now there was no point in staying. Severin would leave on the morrow and head back to London. He would take his Aunt Esther’s advice and make a foray into the Marriage Mart. Hell, if he let her, his aunt would be happy to choose the next Duchess of Knighton for him. While he wasn’t certain Aunt Esther had his happiness in mind—it was difficult to know if the prickly widow held any affection for him—he knew that she valued the family name.
Severin ought to be making a list of suitable duchess candidates. Mapping out contingency plans. Instead, his thoughts were occupied by Fancy Sheridan.
By how soft and pleasingly rounded she’d felt tucked up against him as he’d landed her catch. By the scent of her, some unique mix of sunshine, wildflowers, and woman. Most of all, by her blatant admission that she was no virgin.
I ain’t inexperienced, Your Grace. She’d said it without shame.I know what love is, and I’ve seen more o’ the world than you know.
Just how experiencedwasthis lusty tinker’s daughter? How many men had she tumbled in the hay with? Heat flooded Severin’s groin, and his cock rose, butting against the sheet.
An errant fantasy fogged up his brain. At another place and time, she might have been a welcome diversion. A breath of fresh air amidst the suffocating demands of his life. He imagined setting her up in a cottage outside the city, his own little country escape. She would greet him at the door, wearing a sweet smile on her lips…and nothing else.
Animal need clawed at him. He reached beneath the sheet, fisting his erection. He stroked his distended flesh, imagining Fancy gripping him the way she’d gripped the fishing rod, with pure feminine determination. He saw her smiling at him, with that disarming warmth of hers, and his lust took an errant turn into some deeper, darker corner of need.
He steered it back, concentrating on her ripe, raspberry lips. That teasing beauty mark.
Seed leaked into his gliding fist as he pictured her naked on her knees in front of him. Had she sucked a prick before? If not, it would be his pleasure to teach her. He would break in her pretty mouth with tender care, easing his shaft in inch by inch. Since this was a fantasy, he imagined her taking all of him which, given his size, was something not even his most experienced mistress had managed to do.
His chest heaved, his fist moving faster. Once she got him hard and wet, he would have a taste of her. He wondered if she would be shy about having her cunny licked, if any of her lovers had been skilled in the art of gamahuche. He’d only done it to two women, both of them longer-term mistresses, and he’d enjoyed how wild it had made them.
Would Fancy go up in flames when he ate her pussy?
He groaned softly, deciding that shewould. After she came in his mouth, he would have her mount him. It wasn’t his favorite position, but he wanted to see her expressive eyes as she took his cock into her body. As her pink petals spread around his glistening shaft and she sank down on him, all the way to the thick base. Gripping her lush hips, he would wrench her up and down his prick while her firm, rounded tits bounced for his viewing pleasure.
Would her nipples be as red as her lips? Would she pant his name while he suckled them? Would she beg him to kiss her, to take that lush mouth of hers as she rode him? He slid his fingers into her chestnut locks, crushing her lips to his, tasting her sweetness…
His climax surged. He gritted his teeth against a shout as he shot his seed into his fist. Chest heaving, he lay back against the pillows, sated yet empty. A familiar feeling.
After the affair with Imogen—and, on occasion, during—he’d had bedpartners. He had needs, after all, and the impersonal rutting had nothing to do with the purity of what he felt for her. Imogen had never required his physical fidelity, only that he be her champion. But he had made her a promise, one he’d been faithful to: she was the only woman he had kissed. Several weeks after her marriage, Imogen had found him at his offices in Spitalfields. It had been their first meeting since she failed to show up the night they were supposed to elope.
Forgive me, Severin. I could not dishonor my family. I had to go through with marrying Cardiff, even though I don’t love him.Her cornflower blue eyes had shimmered.Please promise you won’t forget me. Please say I will always have a piece of your heart.
Unable to help himself, he’d gathered her in his arms and kissed her, tasting her tears.
I will never forget you, my darling,he’d vowed, stroking a strawberry blonde tendril from her temple.My love is yours until the day I die. And my last kiss will be with you.
Her tearful joy had filled him with bittersweet pride. In that moment, he had finally shed his guttersnipe roots and felt like a true gentleman. While he couldn’t save his lady from an unhappy marriage, he would be her worthy and loyal knight.
That had been five years ago, and he had kept his promise. He hadn’t kissed any of his lovers. Hadn’t missed it, in truth. Kissing evoked intimacy, and he was done with that. With the pain and unfulfilled promise of it. While Fancy Sheridan thought that love brought happiness, he knew from personal experience that she was wrong. One could not rely on love. At any given moment, love could pull the rug from under one’s feet.
The chit might have had a tup or two,he reasoned.But she has no idea how naïve she is.
That he found himself fantasizing about her was troublesome. More troublesome still was the fact that he’d frigged himself whilst thinking aboutkissingher. While Miss Sheridan’s sexual experience might qualify her to be a potential lover—his code of honor would not permit him to tup an innocent—he knew that she was not mistress material. She couldn’t separate her feelings from fucking, for one thing. She was too naïve, too romantic…and too damned nosy.
