Chapter Twenty-One
Glynnis swallowed,unable to believe James was asking such a question. Nor could she fathom why he bothered instead of taking what they both evidently wanted. Perhaps he was testing her.
Should she say no and prove herself an upstanding lady? Should she say yes so he understood how greatly she desired him?
James’s eyes narrowed slightly. Maybe he, too, was weighing the ramifications.
In the end, she couldn’t help herself. Glynnis gave the slightest of nods, and he swooped in as if he’d been barely restraining himself.
She was thankful he didn’t sink his fingers into her hair, for she would hate to have to go to Polly in disarray before she’d even made it out the door. But he did wrap his hands around her waist and anchor her to him. She closed her eyes in anticipation.
He claimed her mouth, melding their lips into a perfect seal of desire. Her hunger for him grew until she had to steal her arms around his neck, dragging her reticule up his chest as she did. Heat sizzled through her as she tasted him, mint tooth powders and a before-the-gathering glass of brandy, and sniffed his familiar scent of sandalwood and bergamot.
This was passion. This was heaven. This was ... impossible!The only thing such a rake of a viscount would offer was a delightful tupping or maybe a position as his mistress, for he adamantly didn’t wish to be married.
By the time he pulled back and she slowly opened her eyes, her heart was pounding and her head felt light. If he suggested not going to the lawn party but going upstairs to his bedroom instead, she would agree.
And it wasn’t mere lust, although she recognized that to be a component of the mixed emotions swirling through her. But she knew her heart, and it had become well and truly attached to this man.
She drew her hands from him, and they stared at one another, breathing hard.
“I’m sorry I tried to trap you,” she blurted before she could change her mind.
His eyes widened briefly, then he nodded, which she took as an acceptance.
“I am almost sorry it didn’t work,” James confessed. Then he broke the mood with a wide grin. “Shall we go and partake of Prinny’s delights?”
A part of her wished he had decided to partake ofherdelights instead, but she was also grateful he wasn’t treating her in a shabby fashion, like one of the Cyprian’s at the prince’s parties. If they’d given in to desire and James had taken her upstairs, everything would have changed. She could no longer claim the status of a virginal lady, making it that much harder if not impossible to gain a husband. Besides, she was loath to lose the viscount’s respect.
In silent companionship, both of them seemingly deep in thought, they walked to the Pavilion. Glynnis made a point not to glance at Lord Dodd’s house on the Steyne and hoped he wouldn’t be at the party, nor Isabelle Montrose. She couldn’t forget what she’d seen or the vulgar way they’d handled her untimely interruption.
On the other hand, if they felt the passion she felt for James, then she couldn’t really cast shade upon their choice to succumb. It was only how basely and casually they treated the act of amorous congress that shocked her — that and seeing Isabelle’s bouncing breasts.
Besides, if she and James were to make love, she could not imagine happily handing him off to the next woman a minute later. She would want to scratch out the eyes of any female who tried to take him from her. Thus, whatever she’d seen in Lord Dodd’s drawing room, she was firmly of the belief it wasn’t love.
Love!That word came to mind to describe her warm feelings for the man next to her.
“Don’t think about them,” James interrupted her thoughts. “Dodd won’t approach you unless you invite his attentions. And if he does, I’ll deal with him.”
Lord Hargrove, her protector again!
Taking a left onto North Street, they entered the back “pleasure garden,” as the Prince Regent called it, through the south gate. Musicians who had been placed near the orangery, were already playing a lovely tune, “Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill,” purported to be a favorite of not only the prince but his father, too.
From earlier in the day when she and James had gone to the northwest end of the lawn, great changes had been undertaken.
Large canvas tents with hanging lanterns strung between met their eyes, reminding Glynnis of the fancifully lit gardens of Vauxhall. Boards had been put out over the grass, creating a crude but level platform for country dancing.
“No waltzing tonight,” James quipped. “Impossible to glide smoothly on that.”
“I think it’s marvelous,” Glynnis declared. “Dancing outside under the stars — what a treat!”
“And under the tents shall be enough nourishment even for you, I would warrant.”
She rolled her eyes, but then she thought about it.
“Actually, my lord, I am a little peckish now. Do you think there are hors d’oeuvres set out already?”
He let out a great guffaw at her admittance of an appetite, but she didn’t mind.
