“For a few hours, can we cease the verbal barbs and enjoy this repast?” He made sure to use a soft tone of voice.
“Is it your intent to call a truce, Raven? We will be the talk of the ton. Harbinger tongues will wag and link our names together. I hope that doesn’t distress you.” She paused and gifted him a smile. “I want to enjoy this special moment with you and gaze into your amazing dark gray eyes. Yes, I would like a truce.”
He liked how joy bubbled in her laughter and shone in her eyes. He let his smile set the tone since Samantha seemed most agreeable.
“I particularly like the musk scent of your cologne.” She leaned in to whisper, “You have given me the chance to relax for the first time this afternoon.”
He noticed how she hung to his every word, whether in admiration or desperation, the excitement would see them through the afternoon, and evening. “Your emeralds are beautiful, Samantha. How generous of your aunt to gift you. I’m entranced with the pendant and how it falls.” He fingered his vest. “It’s attraction to your bosom invites inspection.” He paused, then added, “Is that a blush that reddens your cheeks?”
“I will share a secret with you, Raven.” She smiled in all wickedness and guile as if to share a mysterious fact. “I think my aunt must have been a woman of sensual delights,” she whispered in his ear, her warm lips close to his ear lobe, “because she designed it that way. I confess, it does draw attention to my attributes, as you put it, doesn’t it?”
Raven was smitten with her shameless flirtation. He never enjoyed an afternoon more than this one because she abandoned decorum and practiced her feminine wiles. Yes, that was the difference, her total femininity shined through her protective wall, and it appeared all her defenses melted. And the afternoon was still young. Could she be unaware of the seductive picture she displayed when she smiled? Or was it that there was no one who could bring out the wanton in her with sweet phrases and lusty kisses?
Oh, would that he could be the emerald strategically placed between those globes. He withheld his sigh and his thoughts, and in disciplined deliberation changed the subject, “Are you about to serve, dear lady? I’m famished.”
There was hunger within him for her and more of her time. He knew without reservation that he would gladly pay another thousand pounds to nestle his head between her breasts. And even more for one night alone with her, but somehow he surmised one night would never be enough to satisfy his desire to erase all distance between them with his penchant to touch, explore, and satisfy.
She sparked of eroticism and everything female, like a mystical goddess calling his name who didn’t need lessons in feminine wiles. They came to her naturally when she wasn’t on her soapbox. He allowed a smile to curl his lips.
“Will this be enough food for you?” Samantha asked. “I don’t know your meal habits, Raven. Some men have enormous appetites.”
“There are times my appetite can be voracious.” With a hint of double entendre, he added, “It depends on that which I hunger.”
Apparently unaware of his meaning, she served him the lunch, and they managed to devour the food with grace. The thoughtful cook had provided rosewater saturated cloths to wipe their hands.
“Some burgundy wine?” He extended the bottle to pour.
“No, thank you, Raven. The champagne has made me a little giddy. I wish to regain my composure.”
“I rather like you when you’re less inhibited.”
“I’ll remember that comment when we are in more private quarters,” she said.
What a pity. He’d like her to lose said composure one day and one night. “I know where private quarters are available, my lady.”
“I would wager that you do,” she teased with mirth.
His thoughts headed in a wayward direction, so he took a moment to survey the crowd. Everyone appeared busy in conversation with their ladies of choice, and he could imagine the sweet flattery that emanated in the hidden words and meanings. He thought the auction a novel idea. All proprieties recognized, yet a little freedom given to possible slight indiscretions and intrigues? What a colossal idea.
“Is there a special occasion that caused your aunt to gift you the gems?” he inquired, fixated on the swell of her breasts and the depth of the emerald color of her neckpiece.
Samantha fingered the large pendant. “No, Raven. She just wanted to do this for me. It was her favorite. My aunt has no daughters, and as a little girl, we became attached to each other.” She added, “Because there is no one yet to gift me such a superb piece.”
“If you belonged to me, I would drape you in gems from head to toe—naked, of course.” How the risqué words escaped his lips amazed him. Such words would never have left his lips before. He preferred action to words, yet Raven tested the waters.
“I beg your pardon?” Samantha arched her eyebrows.
“If my comment shocks, I apologize. A woman such as you should be adorned with jewels and furs, and cloaked in the love of an adoring man. Surely, if your late husband lived, he would have done so.” He noted a change in her expression when her forehead creased. Perhaps her husband wouldn’t be generous? Did such a fool exist? To him, he hoped the last statement would lighten the moment and deflect his inappropriate comment from a man of his stature in this particular time and place. He reserved the right to speak those same words in a more intimate setting—like his bedroom chambers when he just might gift her with a duchess’s tiara.
In a moment of absolute mischief, Samantha spoke, “I see though you, too, are a connoisseur of fine jewelry.”
He surmised she referred to Lady Buxton’s sapphire jewelry. “You agreed to a truce,” he said in a less serious tone and wondered what would happen next. He never could tell with her. It was a part of her allure.
“Indeed, I did. Thank you for your reminder. One couldn’t help but notice the superb gems matched the lady’s beautiful eyes.” Samantha looked away for a moment.
“Yes, I’m sure it was the reason I secured the purchase as a farewell present. I will speak no more on this subject, Samantha.” He didn’t know why he said what he did. It had just occurred to him it would indeed be a goodbye gift to Lady Buxton.
Since his return from the continent, he had not graced the lady’s bedchamber, nor did he have a need, an inclination, nor a desire to do so. Such pleasures were reserved for a woman with flame colored hair. The time had come for separation from his mistress. Raven couldn’t be unkind, and a long relationship deserved reward with thanks and no pitiful moments. It sounded to him like balderdash on his part. Truth of the matter was the time had come to part from his mistress.
It appeared Samantha would not leave the subject.
“Oh, will you seek another candidate for the position?” Samantha asked in a haughty tone.
“You are impertinent again. Damnation.” He paused, but took her lead and decided to make a game of her playfulness. “The possibility exists. I’d have to survey the available women.” He asked with a wry smile, “Are you an applicant for the position?”
Her face shrank back in surprise; she raised her chin in defiance.
“I ought to take you over my knee and spank you for your inappropriate question and careless disregard, Samantha.”
“You have no right to chastise me. You’re not my father or my brother. If you do so, I’ll scream. My brother and his friends will come to my aid. You’ll either have to fight a duel or do right by me.” Her smile became much too coy. “I’m rather fond of Brandon, and I don’t want him shot by the likes of you. Besides, what will people think of the somber and serious Duke of Ravensmere?”
“That the likes of me has lost his mind.”
She laughed with such contagious gusto.
He riveted his eyes to hers. To do right by her might not be such a chore. He extended his hand. “Stroll with me a while.” Both of them needed to cool off. He knew deep within his core he could lose his heart. Her disposition challenged him at every juncture. He could breach her
façade of walls with some ease—or difficulty. He answered himself and found it hard to understand her intentions or his own.
Raven pondered her words and actions. “Samantha, there are times I feel you encourage me. When I respond, there are times you take offense. I believe you are a flirt.” He paused and raised the question, “Do you know what happens to women who tease?”
“They find themselves involved in a difficult circumstance?” she answered with a question.
His interest arose noting she wet her lower lip in a deliberate gesture to convey her provocative nature. “I would like to pose a thought for your consideration.” He spoke in a serious tone, arm in arm, and continued down the path.
“Ask away, my duke.”
“What man would spend one thousand pounds for a two-hour lunch with a woman if he didn’t have some honorable intentions? I did this in front of the ton and the church. You must be aware of this fact, isn’t it so?” He stopped and faced her, and ran one long finger down the side of her cheek, her skin so soft it compared to satin. He traced her pink lips, which were full and suggestive.
Not until this moment did he recognize his intention could be honorable. No, he would never take Samantha as his mistress, although the thought tantalized his senses. She wanted forever. He could be amenable, for he now realized he wanted forever too.
They resumed their walk. The alternate path Raven chose was lined by trees which soared and whose boughs intertwined overhead to form an arch, and yet still allowed sunlight and shadows to interplay. As they passed by, the flowers perked their heads and stood at attention, cultivated to be in color throughout the season.
Raven said in a whisper, “Since you speak with such boldness, I’m encouraged to do so also.” His voice became low and soft. “You are an enigma to me. For the first time, this man of the world is lost, and I find my thoughts are invaded by you. I would like to get to know you better. If we can be but civil to one another, it would be of great assistance. Do you think you could cooperate and compromise?” At the risk of her indignation at the word compromise, he said no more.
When Samantha didn’t speak, he sought her lips and sampled them, at first with gentleness. Then with more fervor as his anxious tongue explored the satin recesses of her mouth. He noted she returned his advances pleasurably with equal ardor, allowed him entry and unspoken permission to plunder. The experience titillated at the sensation she created.
Raven pulled away, his right arm leaned against the tree, yet he still covered her with his body. His other hand caressed her cheek again in an intimate gesture. The sound of her moan encouraged him to set his lips to hers once more. He was like a lover turned free to soar in an invitation to a joint dreamlike flight.
He whispered in a low husky tone, “Samantha, this has been a journey of rediscovery of my desire. You should be kissed and often by someone who flames your natural passion. You are an elemental woman.” He wanted to taste her in sweet—hmm, soft liquid places which could shock her, but no. She would not be taken aback after all. Everyone knew widows experienced the total joys of sexual relations.
The thought of such sport with her raced his pulse. He told himself he just wanted to see how far she would go with him. The strong need to form an attachment to her consumed him. In the back of his mind, he remembered a promise made to another woman.
She repeated his words, “Curious choice, Raven. When you say elemental woman, I wonder how so?” Her eyes appeared to dance a forbidden midnight waltz for him.
“Because my dear lady, you are essential.”
“To what, Raven?”
“Perhaps to my future, Samantha. There is much I have to sort out.”
While he referred to the politics of the day, his position in Parliament, and the new cartel, the latter started to cause him great concern. It now seemed possible someone leaked the information. He wondered if the woman now with him might have spoken out of hand. Everything in him didn’t want to believe she could betray. It would be a heart-kicking event of horrendous proportions.
Samantha, what is the secret you hide? When will you confide in me?
Chapter Fifteen
Raven realized that with her remark about his being a connoisseur of fine jewelry, Samantha accepted the assumption the elegant necklace now became a farewell present to Louise Buxton. He shook his head and said, “I don’t wish to discuss this subject. It’s most inappropriate to all the concerned parties, and that includes Lady Buxton. A true gentleman would never discuss his mistress with another woman. That ends the topic.”
“No, Raven. “There is something that needs clarification. “I won’t be your mistress if that’s what you asked. I wonder what I’ve said or done to make you think I might accept such a proposition. True, I’ve flirted with you, but one thousand pounds doesn’t buy you a courtesan. There’s much you don’t know about me. I’m not always what I seem, and I’m certain I’m not predictable.”
Raven responded with grace and ease. “First, Samantha, mistresses cost more than a mere thousand pounds. They’re quite an extravagance.” He placed his right hand on his temple in a gesture. “Why are you so fascinated with mistresses? Pray tell, why mine?”
“I’m jealous,” was her honest answer.
Raven’s full brows arched. “I’m astounded and flattered, but…”
That is the problem,” she responded. “But?”
“In truth, there is nothing about which to be jealous. In fact, in some ways, it pleases me. Jealousy is a strong emotion. Samantha, I am here with you because it is my choice. Your admission confounds me.”
She lowered her eyes, and then gazed into his, and sighed. “That makes two of us who are confounded.”
He changed the damned subject. “Samantha, I know you are a fraud.”
Her hand went to her breast. “Explain yourself, Raven.”
She appeared about to panic. His thoughts whirled. What fear captured her? What did she hide? Women were famous for their secrets, but hers caused her breathing to race. What mystery surrounded her? Raven continued nonetheless, “You claim to be a non-conformist, yet you spend your life in an attempt to conform and observe all the proprieties even though you know that widow status allows you privilege.”
Aware she listened with intent, her expression seemed to belie any thoughts she might have.
“You say you are not a reformist, yet you espouse female causes with a passion you know could enrage lesser men. You’re vulnerable, and yet you pretend to be just the opposite. You also support issues contrary to normal female pursuits.”
“Is that what you think of me?” Her forehead furrowed.
“I think you are an excitement that goes beyond your beauty. One thing, you’re not shallow. There is a tender heart in your body. It would flatter if you became less haughty with me. I want to see and experience the heat of your words, but in other more pleasurable endeavors if you would but let me.”
And with that remark, he kissed her again and plundered to his heart’s content. He pulled back a moment to survey the lushness of the lady’s lips. Curved vertical lines gave texture to their surface, like valleys that reflected light. The fullness of her lips, swollen from his attention, invited further discovery. Raven became lost in the moment of who he wanted to become—her lover.
Samantha’s mind turned to mush. Lord Percival never kissed like that. Raven’s kisses were glorious and transported her to another realm of wonder. It was a once-upon-a-life-time moment. Her head reeled, and what was the tingle that climbed up her spine? Could it be the champagne? It must be him. She thought herself possessed. Samantha didn’t recognize the elusive emotion that overcame her when she was this close to him. Passion, lust, sensuality and sexuality. Were they all one, and she couldn’t tell one from the other. Well, maybe, if she determined the amount of heat he brought out in her. She wanted to run because she was afraid of what he unleashed in her. Damn her inexperience.
He reached for her hand and kissed it tenderly. A thousand
blinding thoughts raced through her head. She also wanted to respond to his advances and liked the way he could excite her and makes her legs wobbly and weak. Of a sudden, a sensation caused turmoil in her nether region, which seemed to liquefy. She needed to know what this liquid heat meant. Who could explain why her body reacted so? Was there a book she could read? Heaven help her.
She was an inexperienced woman who masqueraded and played with a man who knew the quickened emotions of passion. Did he expect her to know the myriad aspects of bed sport? Heaven had better help her. Could she seduce if she didn’t know how?
The possibility existed in her mind that she enjoyed her time with him and wanted to see more of the powerful Raven. No doubt, he was a man, all feral, virile, and temptingly available. It was too late. Heaven couldn’t help her now.
“I want to embrace you and hold you near, Raven.” She spoke without a care of chosen words. It seemed to spew from the raging inferno in her belly. Her arms became wings. She reached around his neck, placed her body against his, and the heat surged through her as if he had penetrated her veins with his own desire while her breasts lay nestled against his massive chest. All of these feelings were new, strange and heady.
Oh, my, for certain they were hard to bridle. Could it be a sin to have this urge to mold with his body, clothes be damned? No, but it overwhelmed every normal thought and need. Damn desire, she didn’t know how to handle this emotion that left her hungry and breathless for more of him.
“It’s fantastic. Something new and strange has overwhelmed me. I can’t breathe, yet I do.” She responded to the feral magnetism he emanated. At this moment, she knew what he could mean to her. Oh, sweet heaven.
Never, ever, did such urges and anticipation flow through every pore of her body, inch by inch, moment by moment, pulse beat by pulse beat. Sensation upon sensation lifted her to romantic heights. She could tell he responded likewise. This might be unconventional, but her widow status did allow slight deviations. When she was in his arms like this, indiscretions were not only invited, but responded to in a wanton way. Such actions could cause a major scandal. Yet his kisses and the passion they generated warned her of excitement and danger. Nevertheless, she withdrew her arms, conscious of the fact she didn’t know what to do next.
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