“How very wise of me,” he murmured.
“I do not plan to marry another man I know nothing about.”
“Not even if you find me irresistible?”
“Especially if I find you irresistible.”
“How very wise of
you.”
He leaned back against the trunk of a tree, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “I am all yours, my lady. Ask what you will.”
“Excellent. Now, as for the questions…” She clasped her hands behind her back and paced in front of him in the manner of a scholar. “My uncle speaks well of you, so your character and family are not in question.” She glanced at him. “I understand you were in the war? What did you do?”
He paused for a moment as if deciding exactly what to say, then blew a reluctant breath. “I was involved in the gathering of information.”
She stopped in midstride and stared. “You were a spy?”
“You could call it that.”
“I’ve never met a spy before.”
“Do you find it irresistible?” A wicked gleam showed in his eyes.
She laughed. It was rather irresistible, or at least intriguing, but she certainly was not going to tell him that. “Are you still a spy?”
“Alas, the days of spies in the service of the British military ended with the war.”
“What does a retired spy do with his time, then?”
“Whatever one can, really, although admittedly there is not much call for former spies. At least not in this country.” He shrugged. “I have traveled a bit since the end of the war and occupied my days with various endeavors. Now I find myself in the odd position of taking up a title I am not prepared for.”
“You inherited from your brother, I understand.”
“Half-brother. My father married my mother late in life. She did not survive my birth. My brother is, or rather was, some sixteen years older than I. My father died while I was away at school, and shortly thereafter my brother bought my commission. It was exceedingly generous of him.” Tony’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if this narrative were not the story of his life but that of someone else he scarcely knew. As if the facts he detailed were nothing more than facts, with no more emotion attached to them than if he were reciting the tables of multiplication or listing the memorized continents of the world. “My brother’s wife died a few years ago. As they never had children, I was his only heir.”
“Were you fond of one another?”
“There was no particular fondness between us, nor was there any particular animosity.” Tony shook his head. “My brother and I were not close. In truth, we were never much of anything beyond a connection by blood. I was sorry when he died, of course, but I barely knew him.”
“How very sad,” she murmured.
“Why?” The question was offhand, but there was a curious look in his eye. “It doesn’t strike me as being especially sad. It’s simply how life is.”
“It must be terribly lonely.”
“I’ve never considered it such.”
“Really? How odd.” She considered him curiously. “I can’t imagine not having family to share your life with. I have always had someone to talk to, someone to share my troubles or my —”
“Adventures?” he teased.
“Most definitely adventures.” She smiled and shook her head. “I must admit, I have found it rather daunting not to have people, family, about to share my thoughts with. After my husband’s death I spent months with a relative of my mother’s in the Lake District. Granted, she was a most private person and not nearly as gregarious as I was used to. Still, she was present should I need her.”
“And did you?”
“No. Oddly enough, I wished for nothing more than to be by myself. I had a great deal to consider. My actions —”
“You mean your marriage to Lord Wilmont?”
She nodded. “And beyond that, the reasons I did as I did.”
“Love makes fools of us all.”
“Yes, I suppose it does.”
She bit back the urge to tell him it wasn’t love with Charles but a longing for excitement, the lure of newly discovered lust and a desire for passion that decent, respectable, properly bred young women were not suppose to know about or, God forbid, want. What would he think of her? A widow, an experienced woman, could well know all sorts of things and have all sorts of desires it was not acceptable for a never-married woman to have. The fact that she was really no different now than she was before her marriage, save for that she now knew precisely what to expect and was, God willing, at least a bit smarter, was not information she thought it wise to reveal. Still, she wanted him to know the feelings she had for him were unique in her experience. A strange mix of tenderness and desire she was not yet willing to call love, though she suspected that was precisely what it was nonetheless.
“I feel a bit of a fool myself.” He reached for her in a lazy manner and pulled her into his arms.
“Someone might see us here, my lord.”
“No one will see us here.” He lowered his head and trailed his lips along the side of her neck. A shiver shot up her spine. “No one who is anyone would dare to be seen in the park at this obscene hour of the morning.”
“Precisely why you selected it.” She sighed, reveling in the nearness of him, the heat of him…the promise.
“Exactly,” he murmured, his lips producing the most delightful sensations on her neck.
“Tony.” She drew back and met his gaze head-on. “I think of the months I spent in the Lake District as a sort of self-imposed exile. Punishment, if you will. I didn’t sleep well there and I didn’t sleep well when I returned.”
“Continued punishment?” The corners of his mouth quirked upward.
“Probably. It wasn’t until I thrashed it all out with Charles —”
“What?” His brow furrowed in confusion.
She shook her head. “It’s silly and of no real significance, but the point I’m trying to make is that I decided I would live my life by my own rules.”
“I believe you’ve mentioned that.”
Delia drew a deep breath for courage. If she meant what she said about living her life as she wished and this man was to be a part of her life, he would have to accept that. And if he couldn’t, it was best to find out now. “That includes becoming” — she tried not to choke on the words — “a woman of experience.”
His eyes widened and a brow shot upward. “Does it?”
“It does indeed.” She lifted her chin, stared into his dark eyes and favored him with her most seductive smile. “As it is too early for my next adventure, I am living by my own rules and moving the sharing of your bed, or rather my bed, up on my list.”
A slow grin broke across his face. “I knew the camel was an outstanding idea.”
“Indeed, it was the camel that convinced me.” She rolled her gaze toward the heavens. “However, there are conditions.”
He groaned but kept his arms firmly locked around her. “There are always conditions.”
“The first” — she leaned close and brushed her lips across his — “is that I still receive whatever remaining adventures you have planned for today.”
“Agreed.”
“And second, it has occurred to me there is something else I failed to mention that I have never done. A failure you may easily remedy.”
“And will it count as a grand adventure?”
“Once again, my dear Lord St. Stephens, that will depend entirely on you. You see” — she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew his lips to hers — “I have never been seduced in a carriage.”
Chapter 16
Delia was taking him to her bed. Right now, this minute. Tony shifted uncomfortably on the carriage seat.
It was what he wanted, of course, what he had wanted almost from the beginning. Still, he felt rather, well, pursued, and he wasn’t at all sure he liked it.
Delia turned from the window and favored him with a smile and an unspoken promise. Although he could probably learn to like it.
She shifted on the seat to face him. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well…” She gestured aimlessly. “Aren’t you going to…that is…shouldn’t you…”
At once he realized she was not quite as confident as her forthright manner would indicate. His own discomfort vanished.
“Seduce you?” he said with a knowing smile.
She breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.
His gaze met hers. “Seduction, my dear Delia, is not something one does on command.” His voice was casual; his gaze never left hers. He took her hand and peeled off her glove in a slow, deliberate manner. “Seduction is, well, an art.”
“Is it?”
“Indeed it is.” He drew the glove off and traced slow, light circles in her palm. “As such it cannot be hurried.”
Anticipation pulsed in the air between them.
“It can’t?” There was a sweet longing in her voice that nearly undid him. Tony steeled himself against it.
“No.” He kept his voice low, his tone suggestive. He outlined her fingers one by one, his touch barely more than a whisper.
Her breathing was short. “Not even a bit?”
“Not even a bit.” Tony drew her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. She shivered slightly beneath his touch. “There is a natural progression.”
“Is there?” Her words were barely more than a sigh.
“Indeed there is.” He moved to kiss her wrist.
Her voice was shaky. “And next in this progression?”
“I can feel the beat of your heart against my lips,” he murmured.
“Can you?” She swallowed hard.
He pulled her hand to the center of his chest and flattened it against him, covering her hand with his.
“Can you feel mine?”
She nodded, her eyes wide with…what? Not fear, surely. Wonder, perhaps? Love?
“Tony,” she said breathlessly. “I think, in the natural progression of seduction, it would be quite right for you to kiss me now.”
“Do you think so?” He brought her hand back to his lips and kissed each finger. She shuddered and licked her lips. “Oh, my, yes.”
He slipped his arm around her back and drew her slowly across the seat to press against him. He cupped her chin in his hand and met her lips with his. Her eyes closed and her lips parted and her breath mingled with his. He kissed her gently, easily, savoring her as one might savor a fine treat, resisting his own need to devour and consume. She moaned and wrapped her arms around him and he angled his mouth over hers, tasting of her, drinking of her.
He dropped his hand to run his fingers down her side to her hip. She tensed beneath the fabric of her dress and her arms tightened around him. He shifted and pulled her closer, half onto his lap, and he hardened with her nearness. His hand skimmed down the length of her leg and he gathered the material of her gown in his hand until his fingers touched her stocking-covered leg. She gasped and her mouth grew more demanding.
His hand moved higher, over her shapely leg to her garter. He teased the bare skin just above the ribbon and she held her breath in anticipation. He resisted the urge, the need to take her right here, right now, and forced himself to proceed with a slow, even pace. To heighten her desire and no doubt drive himself mad. Besides, a carriage was far and away too risky.
He skimmed his hand lightly up her leg to the curve of her buttock and pulled her more firmly into his lap. Her hip pressed next to his swollen erection straining against the fabric of his trousers. With each rock of the carriage, she rubbed against him, and he struggled to keep himself in check. He trailed his fingers over her hip, to the top of her leg and around to the juncture of her thighs and the coarse patch of hair that contrasted with the silk of her skin. She sucked in a sharp breath and wrenched her lips from his. Her head fell back and her bosom heaved and strained against the fabric of her dress. Good God, he wanted to rip it from her body, tear the fabric away and reveal her porcelain skin. Touch and taste and revel in her breasts and feel the soft fire of her body against his. Damn it to hell, why did she have so many clothes on?
He supported her back with one arm and bent to kiss the column of her neck. His other hand cupped her, his fingers sliding over her, wet and slick and wanting. She moaned and his fingers explored the soft folds of flesh swollen with desire and found the small, hard point he knew was the center of her pleasure. He flicked it gently and she cried out and arched upward and he clasped his mouth over hers to muffle her voice. His thumb caressed the point of her pleasure and he slid one finger and then another into her. She was tight and hot and her muscles clenched around him. She clutched at him, and writhed under his touch and rubbed herself against his arousal until his moans matched her own. Wasn’t risk as much an element of adventure as surprise?
He pushed her skirts up to her waist, then pulled her to sit upright and positioned her to straddle his lap. He started to unbutton his trousers, but she pushed away his hands to replace them with her own. Her gaze caught his and he read excitement and desire and a touch of trepidation in her eyes. She smiled slightly and pressed her lips against his, then laid her hands over the bulge in his trousers. He throbbed against her. She raked her fingernails lightly over the fabric and he gasped. He felt the release of one button, then another, then —
The carriage rolled to a stop. The abrupt cessation of the sound of hooves on brick and the rattle of the vehicle was as startling as any noise.
Delia jerked back and her startled gaze meshed with his. “What on earth shall we do now?”
“Move quickly, my love, move quickly.” He drew a deep, steadying breath. “Apparently we’ve arrived.”
“I’m not sure
arrived
is the appropriate term,” she muttered, and scrambled off his lap. He laughed in spite of his discomfort and buttoned his trousers.
Delia grinned and brushed back her hair. “I believe I had a hat when we started.”
He glanced around, grabbed it off the floor, started to offer it to her and paused. Her hair was tousled and her face flushed, her eyes dark, her lips swollen. She was the most enticing creature he’d ever seen. Mesmerizing and enchanting and everything any man could ever want. Perhaps he should tell the driver to go on.