Lord Melcombe groaned and delved deeper. His arm locked around her waist, bringing her against his body. Althea tingled from the tips of her breasts, now pressed against his hard chest, to the ends of her toes, and especially in the middle where a harder portion of his anatomy pressed against her abdomen.
She should pull away but couldn’t bring herself to break contact just yet.
This is wrong.She knew it was wrong, but her body stopped listening to her mind when she was still in the corridor, and it ignored her now. Instead, Althea wanted to be closer, not that they could get much closer.
Her arms lifted and twined around his neck and her fingers played with the short curls at the back of his head. She had longed to run her fingers through his thick hair but knew how inappropriate it was given he was her employer.
Employer! What was she doing?
Lord Melcombe’s hands roamed up and down her back, branding her with each touch. His mouth moved from her lips to kiss her cheek, before he gently nibbled on her ear, nipped her neck, and trailed kisses down to her shoulder. She was scorched each place he kissed, and Althea let her head fall back, lost in a sea of sensations. His hand closed over her breast, gently squeezing and molding it. “Oh, Althea, I’ve waited for so long.”
So long for what? She couldn’t concentrate enough to voice the question.
He pulled at the top of her bodice, and she wanted to rip her dress off to give him better access.
When the proper and confining dress did not give way, his hands snaked around her back, swiftly undoing the small buttons she struggled to fasten each morning because she no longer had the assistance of a maid. Her bodice loosened, and the shoulders of her dress dropped to the top of her arms. Melcombe’s attention was back on her breasts in an instant, pushing the gown down as he trailed kisses along the edge of her chemise.
Chapter Twenty-One
Prestoncouldn’tstripAltheaof her modest governess clothing quickly enough. How long had he waited to hold her? Weeks? Months? She plagued his dreams at night, and his thoughts during the day. Most of the time he was in a half state of arousal when she was in his presence. Now she was here, in his arms, welcoming his touch.
He slid the gown to her waist, her arms still trapped in her sleeves, but he didn’t care that she wasn’t touching him because all he wanted was to feast on her. Her tight nipples strained against the linen of her chemise. He bent forward and took one in his mouth, suckled while his hands slid down her back, caressing the soft globes of her bum, and pulling her against his erection.
Althea moaned and arched her back. He couldn’t have hoped for a better response. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and the time had finally arrived.
He switched to suckle her other breast as his hand slid down her leg, pulling at the skirt until he reached the hem and slid his hand underneath to touch her leg. It was covered in wool and Preston stroked up until he reached soft skin just above the garter. He would soon show her what pleasure was.
He needed to get her out of this dress and onto his bed so he could do this right. Only a cad would take a miss, the first time anyway, while she was still standing with her arms locked in her sleeves so she couldn’t participate.
“Uncle Preston? Are you awake?”
Althea stiffened at the sound of Winifred’s voice and light footsteps skipping down the stairs. Althea pulled away from him and Preston hurried to pull her dress up to cover her breasts and turned so that his back was to the door as he hastily buttoned the back of her gown.
“Are you hugging Miss Claywell? Is she sad?”
Althea yanked away from Lord Melcombe. Humiliation and shame engulfed her.
“She is not sad, Winifred. I just wanted to hug her.”
Althea took a slow step toward the door, then another, and another before she fled from the room.
“Miss Claywell, wait,” he called after her.
She didn’t turn around. She had to get out of there, away from him. Away from what she had allowed him to do.
Hadn’t she lectured herself last night and just this morning that what had occurred in the carriage could never happen again? Instead, she allowed more liberties, and if Winifred hadn’t interrupted…Althea didn’t even want to think of how quickly she nearly succumbed to ruination.
Tears nearly blinded her as she flew down the stairs. She didn’t pause at the landing but ran into the small room off the entry, grabbed her cloak, and was out the door. She stopped only momentarily to glance about. Jackson had been correct. They’d gotten snow, and it was coming down rather heavily. However, as Mrs. Wilson insisted that they rarely get more than a dusting, Althea was confident that it would stop soon. It needed to because she could not go back into the manor.
At the memory of what she’d done, tears filled her eyes again and Althea ran from the manor as the sobs engulfed her.
What had she done? Why had she allowed such liberties? What must he think of her?
Just because she didn’t wish to marry Mr. Smith did not mean she wished to lower herself to become a mistress to her employer. If anyone learned of what she had allowed to happen today, she would never find a position anywhere else. She’d be shunned and be forced to retire to the country, away from her family. This shame would be far beyond the embarrassment she’d caused Uncle Clarence when she’d run away.
She’d behaved a fool from the moment she made that fateful and poor decision to run away. If she hadn’t panicked at the idea of marrying Mr. Smith, and instead explained her misgivings, certainly her uncle would have understood.
Instead, she behaved the child, packed her things, and snuck away in the middle of the night and right into the arms of the only man she’d ever desired.
