by Eva Shepherd
With the main reason for this ball taken care of, he could attend to the other reason for hosting this occasion. It provided him with the opportunity to mix with influential people who would further advance the family’s position in society. He crossed the ballroom floor and joined a group of eminent men, which included a member of the House of Commons and two members of the House of Lords, just the sort of men with whom he should be associating.
He shook their hands and listened as they discussed the new horseless carriages and a recent motor-racing competition that had taken place in France where automobiles had reached a staggering twenty miles per hour. The men were all excited about the prospect of being able to drive their own vehicles at such speeds and several had already put in orders to have a horseless carriage built.
Dominic was also interested in the possibilities of this new technology and the changes it would make to society, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from straying again as he searched the room to see if Nellie Regan was watching.
He couldn’t see her anywhere and knew he should not be looking. He forced his attention back to the group of men and tried to pay attention as they moved on to discussing the latest bills before the House.
Would she be condemning him for talking to this group of older men when he should be dancing with his fiancée and enjoying himself? Once again, he reminded himself that he did not care one iota what this former lady’s maid thought of him. She might be enterprising, with energy that most businessmen would envy, and she might be so attractive and graceful that she could easily pass as a member of the aristocracy, but she was still little more than a servant. A person in trade at best. And he was wasting his time even thinking about her.
And he wouldn’t think about her. He cast one more glance around the room. He wouldn’t imagine what she would say about him attending a ball and spending his time talking politics rather than dancing.
After all, he could hardly dance and have fun if his fiancée was absent, so of course he would spend the evening talking to a group of men. It had nothing to do with being boring or lacking passion.
He looked around the room again. Cecily had not come back either. She had been absent for a considerable amount of time. Surely any problem with the servants would be settled by now.
He excused himself from the circle of men. He had been remiss and should have thought to check earlier, or even offered to help her with whatever problem she was encountering.
He skirted round the dance floor and asked a footman if he knew where Lady Cecily had gone. The footman informed him that she was last seen heading towards the servants’ hall. Dominic rarely went below stairs, even in his own home. He discussed the running of the house with the head butler, but that was always conducted in his library. And his sister held similar discussions with the housekeeper, again in her own drawing room. Then they left the running of the household to the senior servants. While he had spent a lot of time below stairs as a boy, the goings on down there were increasingly becoming a mystery to him.
But it was an area that Nellie Regan would know well. He thought back to when he had first seen her, entertaining the servants with an imitation of himself and Lady Cecily in the servants’ hall at Ashmore House.
He smiled at the memory of how she looked when she realised he was watching her. How her face had quickly turned from embarrassed to defiant. How he’d seen that defiant look again when he’d visited her shop and once more when he’d appeared at The Hanged Man. Then another image entered his mind. One he knew he shouldn’t think of, the image that had been tormenting him for the last month. The image of her beautiful body visible beneath her nightgown, her red hair flowing down her back. How could he not think of that? How could he not want to see such tempting beauty again? She had literally taken his breath away and it was a sight he knew would be etched on his brain for ever.
He paused, breathed deeply to try to clear his mind. What he should be focusing on was finding his fiancée and helping her with whatever problem it was that had taken her away from the ball. He strode towards the back stairs that would take him down to the servants’ hall, reminding himself that he would not think of Nellie Regan again. He would not remember the way she looked in the morning light, with the sun shining through her nightgown. He would not think of her soft skin, her sparkling green eyes, her lips. And he certainly would not think of her curvaceous body.
He passed the open door of the library, glanced in and there she was. Nellie Regan. Standing beside a bookcase, her head bent, a book in her hand, a smile on her face.
He stopped walking and stood in the doorway, staring at her. Like a willing captive he could not walk away. Nor did he want to.
Chapter Fifteen
As if pulled by a magnetic force he walked into the library. She looked up. Her green eyes held his gaze. Slowly, she closed her book. ‘I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind, but I can’t walk past a library without going in and seeing what books it contains.’
‘I don’t mind at all.’ His voice came out as a low growl. He coughed to clear his throat. ‘What are you reading?’
She smiled at him and looked down at the book in her hand. ‘A very well-thumbed copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.’
Dominic laughed and leant over her shoulder to look at the cover. ‘It was my favourite book as a child. I envied Tom his freedom and the way he happily got himself into all sorts of trouble.’
‘I knew it was yours. I saw your inscription in the front.’ She opened the first page of the book and showed it to him. There was his childish scrawl, announcing that the book belonged to Dominic Lockhart and everyone else, especially his sister, were banned from reading it. She laughed. ‘I hope that ban doesn’t still stand and you don’t mind me reading it.’
‘I’ll make an exception for you.’
She smiled again and his gaze was drawn from her laughing eyes to those full, pink lips. Pink lips that he had often thought of kissing. She stopped smiling and his gaze moved back to her eyes. She was staring at him, her eyes soft. Like a prisoner held by invisible restraints he couldn’t look away. Her lips parted slightly as she drew in a rasping breath and her tongue slowly moved along the full lower one, as if relieving suddenly dry lips. It was a simple gesture, but Dominic was captivated.
‘I’ll make an exception for you,’ he repeated, his voice husky and constricted. Before he could register what he was doing he had leant forward and was kissing those tempting lips.
He had first imagined doing this when he had seen her standing at her washstand, her curvaceous body on display. And he had repeatedly dreamt of doing it ever since. Now his dream had become an intoxicating reality and he was drunk with the pleasure of it.
His arms enveloped her. He pulled her towards him. What he was doing was wrong. He knew he should stop. He waited for her to react with horror. To push him away. To slap his face as he deserved. To let him know his kisses were unwanted. Then he would stop, but he couldn’t do it by himself. He was incapable of stopping, even though he knew that was exactly what he should do.
But how could he stop now? How could he pull away from her, now that he had experienced the touch of her lips, the silky feel of her skin? That alluringly feminine taste of her lips had stripped away his last vestige of control. He had been robbed of the power to do what he knew was right.
She moaned lightly. Her lips parted. Exhilaration coursed through him. She did not want him to stop. She wanted this as well. This was more than he could have dreamt of.
He pulled her even closer, held her tighter, kissed her harder, his hand lightly stroking the soft skin of her neck. He wanted this woman. Wanted her right here, right now. He ran his tongue along her full bottom lip, tempting her to give him what he wanted. And she did. Her lips parted wider, letting him in. His tongue entered her mouth, savouring the intimacy of the act.
To his immense pleasure her arms encased his shoulde
rs. Her hands ran up the back of his neck, to his head and through his hair, holding on to him tightly. She kissed him back with a fervour that matched his own. Her breasts were tight up against his chest as she moulded herself into his body, every inch of her touching him. Dominic intensified the kiss as he registered her tight nipples pressed into his chest, her body telling him what he wanted to know. She wanted this as much as he did.
And he wanted her with an intensity that had driven all thought from his mind. As he trailed a line of kisses down her throat, she tilted back her head, exposing the creamy white skin to his lips, and moaned gently. He wanted to kiss and caress every inch of her beautiful body, to make her moans come louder and faster, to cause her to writhe with pleasure under his touch. Her breath becoming quick gasps, his kisses returned to those waiting lips, kissing her hard, parting her lips and entering her mouth again.
But he wanted more than just her kisses, more than just caresses. He wanted this woman, wanted all of her, wanted her with a desperation that defied all reason. His aching need for her was pounding within him, his erection straining against his trousers, he needed to be deep within her, needed the release that only she could give him.
His hands moved down her back to her buttocks, those beautiful round buttocks. But he did not want to feel them through her layers of frustrating clothing. He wanted her naked. He wanted to be able to observe her beauty laid out before him.
His hands moved up to her slim waist and he lifted her up on to the table. With desperate fingers he pulled at the buttons of her blouse with more haste than finesse. To his immense relief she helped him, unbuttoning her blouse and letting him know that this was what she wanted as well.
The blouse parted. He pulled down her chemise in one firm tug and was rewarded by the sight of her full, round breasts exposed, lifted up towards him above her corset. He took a moment to stand back and admire the glorious sight. Her hands dropped to her sides, giving him an unimpeded gaze. She was enjoying being looked at as much as he was enjoying the sight of her naked breasts. Her breath was coming in increasingly rapid gasps, while her breasts moved up and down, and her tight nipples were pointed invitingly at him. It was an invitation he could not refuse.
She reached her hands towards him, her full lips parted. ‘Dominic,’ she whispered. It was the first time she had used his given name and it felt good, very good. He wanted to hear her say it again. He wanted to hear her calling out his name as he made love to her, to scream it out as he made her writhe with ecstasy. He wanted to make her lose herself in pleasure, the pleasure he was giving her.
Taking her beautiful breasts in his hands he teased and tormented the hard buds and watched her reaction. She closed her eyes, her lips parted, and she placed her hands over his, encouraging him in his caresses.
Her rapid breathing became moans, then gentle cries as he continued to rub his thumbs over the tight, sensitive nubs. Her cries coming faster and faster, he kissed her neck, his lips moving slowly, teasingly down her neck, to her shoulders, her chest, and across the soft, swelling mounds of her breasts. When he reached his destination, he took one tight bud in his mouth, licking it, sucking it, nuzzling it, while his hand continued its tormenting caress of its beautiful twin. Her hands clasped his head, her fingers wove their way through his hair, holding him to her breast as her breath came in increasingly rapid pants.
Urged on by her obvious signs of pleasure, he reached down and grabbed the bottom of her skirt, bunching up the soft material. He heard her breath catch. Stopping what he was doing, he looked up at her face. Had he gone too far? But it was not a gasp of protest. Her head was thrown back, her eyes were closed, her lips parted. She had the beautiful expression of a woman caught up in the raptures of desire. He smiled down at her. She was just as incapable of stopping as he was. And he had no intention of stopping.
Kissing those parted, gasping lips, he ran his hand up the inside of her leg along her silk stocking, under her loose undergarments to the soft naked flesh above her garter.
Her gasps grew faster, louder, urging him on. It was all he needed. When her legs parted, giving him easier access, he released his own deep moan of pleasure. His stroking hand rose teasingly, slowly up the silky flesh of her inner thigh. Another growl of pleasure escaped his lips as she parted her legs even wider in invitation.
His caressing fingers reached their destination and he ran his hand along the soft, intimate folds, then pushed his fingers inside her. If he’d had any doubts that she wanted this as much as him they would now be completely swept away. She was so wet for him, so ready for him to enter her and make her his own.
Watching her face, he gently rubbed her sensitive nub, his fingers moving deeper within her with each stroke. Each one brought more moans of pleasure from her lovely lips. She was completely lost in the experience. She gasped in rhythm with his stroking hand. Harder and harder, faster and faster he stroked, while watching her beautiful face. One long gasp escaped her lips, tears slid past the edges of her closed eyes, and he felt the completion of her pleasure wet on his fingers.
She looked so beautiful. So beautiful he knew he had to be inside her. Now.
His erection so hard it was almost painful, he desperately needed to feel her encasing him. He had to relieve the throbbing desire for her that was possessing him, that had taken him over and driven away the ability to think.
She opened her eyes and gazed at him as if in a trance. Her green eyes appeared black. A rose-coloured blush had consumed her cheeks, her neck and naked breasts. She reached out to him. Her swollen lips parted, as if she was struggling to form words, but had lost the ability to speak.
‘Oh, Nellie. I want you so badly,’ he murmured as he kissed the side of her neck. ‘I have to have you. I want to make love to you.’
Her body suddenly went rigid. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging in deeply, and she pushed him away. He looked at her stricken face and shame washed through him. His actions had been so wrong, so selfish.
Her previously hooded eyes were now large and startled. Her once-panting lips were now closed in a tight line as she scrambled to clasp her blouse together and pull down the fabric of her skirt.
He should not have given into his primal need to make love to her. It was unforgivable. He had wanted her so desperately he had forgotten what was right. He had only been thinking of himself, of his desperate need for her. He had thought it was what she wanted.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ she said, staring over his shoulder.
‘No, Nellie. You have done nothing wrong. I’m the one who should be sorry. Please forgive me, I should have used more self-control. Please, can you ever forgive me?’
‘No, no,’ she gasped and pointed at the doorway.
Dominic turned to look where she was pointing. Lady Cecily was standing at the door. Staring at them. Her face showing no emotion, giving no indication of what she must be thinking about the shocking scene she had just witnessed.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Go to her.’ Nellie pulled down her skirt and wished her emotional state could be restored as easily as her clothing. Her heart was still pounding so hard within her chest she was sure Dominic must be able to hear it. Her skin tingled as if every inch of it was still being stroked and caressed. Her lips still burned with the imprint of his impassioned kiss. Her body still ached for him, longing for him to once again give her that ecstatic satisfaction, longing to finally have him deep within her.
She did not want him to leave, but he had to. To stay would be cruel, selfish, even more unforgivable than what they had already done. If such a thing was possible.
They had been caught up in the moment. But they should not have allowed that to happen. Nellie should have stopped it, stopped herself, stopped him. To her shame she had done nothing to prevent this happening. Instead she had encouraged him in his exploration of her body. Had enjoyed every sensual moment of
it. And to her shame she wanted him to continue, wanted to feel his hands caressing her, wanted to feel his lips on hers, wanted to wrap her legs tightly around his firm thighs. Wanted him to make love to her.
Her heart hammering in her chest, her body still throbbing with the memory of his caresses, she tried to control her body’s reaction, tried to suppress her need for him.
She swallowed and drew in a series of ragged breaths. It had all been wrong. So wrong. It should never have happened. When she had seen Lady Cecily standing at the door it had been a tidal wave of guilt that had crashed over her, instead of another tidal wave of ecstasy.
Yet, despite the shock at seeing Lady Cecily standing at the doorway, a shameful part of her had, for one brief moment, been tempted to close her eyes again, to pretend she had not seen her. She had been tempted to ignore the other woman’s presence. She had been so caught up in the rapture of the moment, she had wanted to ignore what her eyes were seeing, to only focus on the euphoric pleasure her body was feeling. It seemed her selfishness knew no bounds.
And Lady Cecily wasn’t just another woman. She was Dominic’s fiancée. Nellie knew he must go to her. But even though her words were telling him to leave, her body was screaming out for him to stay. Part of her wanted to ignore the guilt that was consuming her. She was tempted to beg him to take her in his arms, to kiss her again, to caress her again, to continue what he had started and make love to her. To bring her once again to that pinnacle of pleasure. And that only showed just what an appalling woman she was.