To Tempt an Earl (14 page)

The idea made the moment even sweeter.

"Miss Lamont." Graham toyed with the leather
reins, his brow furrowed and uncertain.

Bethanny's heartbeat stuttered.

"I find I'm now questioning my impulsive
nature—"

Not letting another moment pass, Bethanny
gently reached up and ran her finger down his jawline and softly
encouraged him to turn his head. His eyes were tortured, uncertain.
She only hoped it was because he was trying to be more honorable
than he ought… not because he didn't want her.

Yet he had said he liked her earlier; in
fact, implied far more than that. So without any more hesitation,
she slowly leaned forward, gaging his reaction. His expression
changed from uncertainty to a smoldering passionate gaze that
warmed her from her toes to the tip of her head.

Slowly, he leaned forward. Bethanny closed
her eyes and memorized the soft press of his lips to hers. The kiss
was so light, so soft that it was over almost before it began.
Bethanny waited, eyes closed and her heart hammering with
anticipation and hope.

He kissed her again, just as light as before.
His lips molded to hers, lightly nipping and teasing, but he backed
away before she could fully give herself to the sensation.

"I'll not break, my lord," she whispered, a
smile teasing her lips as she opened her eyes.

"Are you so sure?" Graham asked just before
he teased her lips once more, this time slightly more
demanding.

"Hmm. Indeed. Why don't you find out for
yourself?" Bethanny whispered boldly, her heart hammering with her
wanton request.

Graham chuckled. "Says the lamb to the
lion."

He leaned down and nudged her jaw with his
nose till she tilted her head slightly, offering him unhindered
access to her neck. "What a foolish lamb."

"Sometimes risk is worth the reward," she
replied breathlessly. His tongue swirled against her flesh,
creating a heat that welled within her.

"Indeed it is," Graham agreed and all but
attacked her lips. His kiss was immediately demanding. Gone was the
gentle coaxing, the teasing nipping. He reached out and held her
tightly. "This will not do." Graham growled.

For a moment Bethanny's heart stopped.

Was he referring to kissing her? Had he
changed his mind?

But before her mind could wander far, he
stood and pulled her up as well. A moment later, he leaped from the
curricle. After adjusting his jacket, he turned and wrapped his
hands around her hips, lowering her to the soft grass. Immediately,
he pressed her against the curricle, his hands grasping her back
and then tracing down to her hips. His kiss was hot as he teased
her lips open with his tongue and then groaned when she met his
passion with her own as she pressed into the kiss, mimicking every
movement he made. He tasted of mint; his kiss was both playful and
passionate, a perfect combination that sent her heart racing.

The passionate spell around Bethanny was
shattered when Graham broke the seal of their lips and then covered
her mouth with his hand as she began to speak. Then she heard
it.

Laughter.

Graham shook his head and removed his hand
slowly after she nodded in understanding.

The laughter continued, and Graham began to
glance about the grove of trees, then paused. Without a word, held
out his hand for her to grasp as she alighted into the curricle. He
hopped up and gazed at her, his expression one of annoyance at the
interruption of their burning desire.

She understood the sentiment.

With a sigh, he coaxed the horses to leave
the grove. Bethanny glanced back to their private haven as they
left, wishing they could have stayed longer.

Wishing she could stay forever in his warm
embrace.

"I thought it wise to not tempt fate, Miss
Lamont," Lord Graham murmured. "Though I sorely wished to do so."
He turned and offered her a small smile, his eyes still smoldering
with passion.

"I understand," Bethanny replied as she
smoothed her skirt.

"Though I think I might have been mistaken in
one thing," he commented lightly.

"Oh?" Bethanny turned to look at him.

He nodded, and a slightly worried expression
crossed his handsome features. "You, Miss Lamont, are the lion. And
I am nothing more than a foolish lamb," he replied. He smiled then,
but the gesture didn't reach his eyes.

Bethanny didn't know what to say. After all,
how does one lay to rest all the worries upon men's shoulders?

Especially when they have the makings of
potentially ruining a lifelong friendship.

Though she didn't
think
the duke would
object so severely to Graham, if he were to officially pursue her,
she wasn't sure.

And if
she
wasn't sure…

Then Graham was not either.

"Perhaps we are both lambs," Bethanny
whispered.

"Indeed, Miss Lamont. Indeed."

Graham waited silently as he surveyed the
Symores' rout. It was a smaller affair than Bethanny's debut;
however, it was still well-attended. After the amazingly confusing
interlude in the park with Bethanny, he had avoided the duke's
residence like the bloody plague. He had already failed in keeping
his distance; he couldn't afford any further slip-ups. Not till he
was sure.

Not till he was certain he wouldn't break her
heart… or the duke wouldn't break his neck. But, in avoiding the
residence, his insatiable craving for even a small glimpse of
Bethanny had multiplied one-hundred fold. Like a man starved, he
scanned the sea of people, knowing that once he found her, he'd be
powerless to stop approaching her, dancing with her, stealing away
with her to taste her kiss once more.

Already Graham had spotted Lord Neville, who
he detested on the principle that Bethanny had a diverting tale of
which he was the unlikely hero. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself
that he was fully anticipating that her disclosure of earlier would
involve him, but to discover it was Neville? His blood boiled hot
with jealousy in simply thinking of it.

Damn the man for adding to the thick pea soup
of emotions brewing within him. For that very purpose, Graham had
been keeping an eye on the reclusive lord, evaluating his
competition.

Competition, as if Graham was in the running
in the first place.

He was a man divided. Half of him was
insistent on the honorable behavior of a gentleman that
necessitated his loyalty to the duke. Which, in turn, meant that he
was unable to pursue Bethanny.

The other half of him said
to hell with
it
and
take her anyway
.

He was quite in agreement with the second
half. But couldn't get his bloody conscience to agree.

As if his thoughts conjured her, the object
of his desire appeared. She was clothed in a light blue velvet gown
that displayed just a hint of her luscious curves. Her creamy white
skin was luminescent, angelic almost in its beauty. Her thick mane
was intricately styled in a manner than drove Graham wild with the
distinct desire to unwind it and unwrap the present beneath.

Her gaze searched the room, as if simply
observing, then she paused and tilted her head slightly, like a
bird. A breath later, her gaze found his and locked, a smile
flirting on her alluring visage.

Graham nodded, forcing himself to grin in
response, though there was nothing amusing about her beauty, her
allure. Rather it was acute torture.

Bethanny's attention was then captured by
Carlotta, who touched her lightly on her shoulder.

The very shoulder that would haunt Graham's
feverish dreams that night.

She turned.

Graham followed her gaze then swore.

Neville.

Narrowing his eyes, he swore again for good
measure. He was unable to see Bethanny's expression, but judging
from the grin on Neville's face, she wasn't exactly telling him to
jump in the Thames.

Pity.

It was a capital idea.

Bethanny was nodding and her shoulders —
bloody hell, he loved her shoulders — shook slightly as if she were
laughing.

Devil take the man for making her laugh!

Unable to stand aside while Neville charmed
his way into Bethanny's good graces, Graham strode forward,
silencing his conscience and gagging it.

Lord Neville stepped back and took his leave
as Graham stepped forward, bowing crisply.

"Lord Graham." Bethanny's eyes danced with
delight. How he loved that he was the cause!

"Miss Lamont, beautiful as ever." He placed a
very proper air kiss to her wrist, but not before he winked
scandalously, just to remind her of their earlier flirtation.

She blushed, and he felt exceedingly
pleased.

"Always the flatterer." Bethanny sighed,
teasingly.

"I'm an honest man, Miss Lamont. Don't impugn
my integrity by implying my compliment was not utterly
sincere."

"Very well." She chuckled softly.

"May I have the supper waltz?" Graham asked,
praying that Neville hadn't asked for that particular honor.

"Of course."

Graham exhaled the breath he hadn't realized
he was holding. "Delightful."

He seized the ripe opportunity to linger in
gazing at her, offering his most winning smile, one that had caused
many a woman to fall under his spell.

Judging by the color rising in Bethanny's
cheeks, she was no exception.

"There's no need to use your excessive charm
on me, my lord," Bethanny demurred.

"Oh?" Graham asked, a wicked grin teasing his
lips.

"No. You see, I'm already quite aware of your
dimpling grin that drives us ladies mad. In fact, I remember it
from quite a long time ago. Its… potency hasn't faded with time,"
she confessed, her rosy color heightening.

"I shall have to remember that. However, if I
must not use my charm, what device is left to me?"

"Device?"

"Indeed. What allurement shall I use?"

"Ah, Lord Graham, I thought you far keener of
mind than to ask such a simple question."

"Simple? You think my inquiry a simple one?"
He pretended to be affronted.

"Indeed. For if my memory serves correctly,
which it almost always does," she said with a sly wink, "then you
have already the answer. Of course, when you employed it first, you
were not aware of my identity," she added, somewhat
reluctantly.

Good Lord, was she asking for another
kiss?

Her confident gaze faltered slightly then
lingered on his lips

The possibilities… The temptations were
overwhelming, slamming into him with a force that caused him to
catch his breath. Quickly he glanced about, further silencing his
nagging conscience and searching for a private balcony or alcove
where he might taste the delights of her mouth once more.

Of course, that was when the first strains of
the quadrille began.

As if restraining a smile, she bit her lip
then glanced away, taking the heat of her gaze and its implications
with it.

"If you'll excuse me, I do believe I… ah,
Lord Neville!" Bethanny beamed a welcoming grin.

And all the pulsing of desire that flooded
his veins switched to the fury of jealousy.

With effort, Graham suppressed a growl.

Substantial effort.

"The breathtaking Miss Lamont," Neville
murmured, bowing crisply and holding her gaze.

Unable to suppress his immature reaction,
Graham cleared his throat.

"Ah, Graham, pleasure to see you this
evening. I must say, Miss Lamont must find your presence quite
comforting."

"Comforting?" Graham questioned, his eyes
narrowing slightly.

Neville had the audacity to shrug. "Indeed!
It's well known you are chums with His Grace. To know you are
looking out for Miss Lamont's best interest would most assuredly
qualify as comforting, I would assume." His expression was far too
innocent.

Graham felt mocked.

And old.

Bethanny turned to him, offering a smile.

And Lord Neville arched a brow, grinning
wickedly.

He
was
being mocked!

"Perhaps, I must say that I'm very thankful
for the relationship I have with Miss Lamont's family. It provides
the most diverting opportunities," Graham replied coolly.

"Indeed." Lord Neville's lips quirked in a
sly and knowing grin.

"Indeed," Graham clipped.

"Er, Lord Neville, I believe this is our
dance?" Bethanny offered as her gaze darted between himself and
Lord Neville. Her tone was confused, yet amused as well.

"Of course, I shall enjoy it above all
things." He grinned devilishly and led her away toward the growing
crowd.

Graham kept his eyes trained on her form as
he walked around the perimeter of the dance floor. As the music
began, Bethanny's gaze darted to his, meeting for only a fraction
of a moment. The quadrille began, and his eyes savored her
imperfect grace, the slight tilt of her head as she took pleasure
in the flow of the music. Lord Neville was an attentive partner,
and again the fire of jealousy burned within him.