And so, because he was choosy and careful, he had never had a lady refuse him. At least not like this. The occasional woman who was loyal to her current lover, certainly. But not an unattached woman who clearly wanted him. Not a woman to whom he had given oral delights upon a settee, certainly.
And yet Katherine had looked him in the eye, her stare as cold as ice, her tone even more bitter, and told him it was a mistake. That she didn’t want him, at least not for more than what she’d already gotten thanks to his tongue.
She sounded like she meant it, too. Like she was dismissing a servant who had brought cold tea, not a man offering to be her lover. Offering to give her all the pleasure she could stand and more.
It was utterly confusing. The dichotomy of her vocal and enthusiastic orgasm and her harsh dismissal. The first was why he was still rock hard. Her body was a pleasure. She was so damned responsive. Just the graze of his hand or the touch of his tongue and she was arched beneath him, begging, panting, whimpering. He’d always like a woman who came hard. He liked watching his lovers take pleasure. That was nearly as satisfying as taking his own.
Now, as he relived those moments of her beneath him, his cock throbbed.
“Fuck,” he muttered, exiting the room at a swift clip. He strode down the hall, up the back stair and down the hall to the room where he had been placed by Emma and James. He burst inside, barely taking in his surroundings. He kicked the door shut, moved to the bed and unfastened the placard of his trousers.
He spit on his palm before he stroked himself. His body twitched and he leaned against the high mattress with one hand as he worked his shaft swiftly and with purpose. When he shut his eyes, he pictured Katherine, leaning against him, her body gently grinding as they watched Graham and Adelaide’s passionate reunion.
Katherine spread out before him, her sex glistening with desire as he bent his head to lick her. Her flavor still burst on his tongue, and he increased the pace of his hand as he relived the power of bringing her to powerful completion.
And then his mind took him to fantasy. Of sliding up her body and pushing into that sweet, still rippling channel. Of pounding into her until she screamed down the house. Of marking her with his mouth and his hands and pouring every drop of his release deep inside of her.
The pleasure he imagined in that act combined with the pleasure of his hand, and he grunted as his seed spurted from his cock, relieving, at least for a moment, the tension of need that Katherine had stoked in him down in the parlor.
When his mind stopped spinning, he pushed from his slumped position against the side of the bed and tucked himself back into place. He glanced in the mirror, tidying up his tangled hair, rearranging his twisted waistcoat. Eventually he looked like himself, rather than an animal who had just rutted out back.
He blinked at his reflection. In his own eyes, he saw need still there. He felt it in his edgy body. It wouldn’t be satisfied until he felt Katherine ripple around him in powerful release.
An odd thing considering how he had been so soundly set down not a quarter of an hour before.
“Bollocks,” he muttered, and exited the room to return to the ball and act like none of it had ever happened. If that was what Katherine was doing, he could certainly manage it.
And yet, he still needed to purge her from his blood. Which meant he had to figure out why in the world the woman hated him so much.
Chapter Nine
Katherine stood at the window in her chamber, looking out over the lovely view of the orchard. There was something soothing about that tangled grove of trees that were just starting to drop their leaves. As if she could just step into the sheltering darkness of their branches and disappear. Away from the prying eyes of Society, away from the watchful stare of Roseford and away from her own memories of what she had allowed him to do to her twelve hours before.
“Eat your scone, my dear!”
She turned from the scene outside and forced a smile for Aunt Bethany. She had been doting over Katherine since she claimed a headache the night before that had allowed her escape from the ball before Robert returned. Thankfully, she had been left alone since then.
Alone with her memories of last night. Her dreams. And this morning, alone with her hand. Not that she had been even remotely as satisfied with touching herself as she had been beneath his mouth.
Dastardly man.
“Honestly, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Bethany said, patting a seat at the small table in the corner of Katherine’s room. “Sit down and eat before I request a doctor to check you for a fever.”
Katherine pursed her lips and did as she’d been told. Bethany gave the scone before her a stern glance, and Katherine laughed as she tugged a piece of the pastry free and popped it in her mouth.
“Good,” Bethany said with a sigh. “And while you eat, I think you and I should have a talk.”
“A talk?” Katherine said, pushing away troubling thoughts and trying to focus on Bethany. She always liked her talks with her aunt, though this one sounded ominous, indeed.
“I realize it is none of my business. After all, you and I have only been reunited as aunt and niece for a few years.”
Katherine reached out to touch her hand. “And I feel close to you. You may speak to me about anything. Goodness knows we’ve talked about a great many intimate things in the past year since Gregory died.”
Bethany cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. She glanced over her shoulder, as if she wanted to be certain the room was empty. “I have noticed several of your exchanges with the Duke of Roseford.”
Suddenly the delightful scone tasted like sandpaper, and Katherine stared at her aunt in horror. She drew a few long breaths before she said, “I’m not certain what you mean.”
“Back in London I noticed you talking to him once or twice. I realize you danced with him the night I did not accompany you. But that is London. I am thinking more of the exchanges I have witnessed between you here, since our arrival yesterday.”
