Penelope sipped her wine before answering, and Lauren could not help but think if that was her cousin’s way of gaining more time to form a response.
“They were sent at the same time. Honestly, I doubted Hawthorne would accept, although I suppose he hoped you would attend.”
“Perhaps he desired other company.” Noticing Melanie’s hand casually draped along the top of Theodore’s thigh, dangerously close to his lap, Lauren winced. Was it her imagination, or did his muscles jump beneath the fine wool of his trousers?
“You can’t believe that’s true. The man has hunted you from the moment you arrived. I’ve no idea what scandal led to the demise of your engagement, but do not doubt he is devoted to having you for his wife, Lauren.”
“He betrayed me,” Lauren whispered absently, watching Theodore murmur into Melanie’s ear. Curiously, the lady scowled, removing her hand from his leg with amazing speed.
“With another woman? I don’t believe that at all. From the moment you met, it was plain you were meant for one another,” Penelope scoffed.
“I—I really don’t want to talk about this, Penelope.” Lauren drew herself up straighter while cringing at the thought of Theodore lavishing attention on anyone else. “I fear I’m not proving very festive. Perhaps the journey here is finally catching up to me.” Or perhaps my efforts in eluding Theodore have exhausted me.
Penelope slipped an arm around Lauren. “Dear cousin, I’ve no wish to pry, but might I offer a bit of advice? From a married woman’s perspective, if you will have it.” At Lauren’s reluctant nod, the viscountess prodded, “If a man is striving to prove you have his attention, or apologizing when he hasn’t shown the inclination of doing so before, please consider its worth.”
“What are you saying, precisely?” Lauren breathed.
“Give Hawthorne a chance, my dear. He may surprise you with his sincerity.”
Lauren pondered her cousin’s advice as the atmosphere in the salon grew increasingly jovial. Sitting in on a few hands of vingt-et-un, she lost abysmally because her mind was not on the game. Then she stood by, watching as several brave souls played Snapdragon until all the raisins in the bowl of flaming brandy were gone.
Rather aimlessly, she wandered about the large, boisterous room, acutely aware of the instant Theodore broke free of the whist game.
From a deceptively casual stance by the large fireplace, his back against the wall and a glass of brandy in one hand, Theodore’s dark gaze followed Lauren. Even though engaged in conversation with other lords over recent parliamentary matters, his attention sent a shiver up her spine even while he kept his distance.
A small blessing, Lauren conceded. The earl’s predatory nature was enough that men such as Lord Sanderson dared not venture close at all for the moment. She was unsure how long that might last.
In the midst of the evening’s activities and chatter, a small group of servants wheeled in two tea carts. Lined up in neat little rows were footed porcelain bowls filled with fresh snow and a pitcher containing a syrupy mixture of lemon juice and sugar.
“Oh!” One lady clapped her hands. “We’re having ices just like at Gunter’s!”
This was met with surprised exclamations of delight. Those not seated at the gaming tables gathered around the tea carts, eagerly accepting servings of the treat. Lauren was momentarily distracted by someone’s enthusiastic shout of triumph over a favorable turn of cards and did not notice Theodore sliding into the open space by her side.
She was immediately wary but refused to flee.
He handed her a bowl. “I remember how fond you are of desserts like this.”
“Thank you,” Lauren muttered, swallowing a deep breath when their fingers brushed.
Theodore’s full lips quirked with a smile, leaving no doubt he was aware of her reaction.
Lifting her spoon, Lauren took a dainty nibble of the ice as if she hadn’t just come close to losing her composure. “It’s very good. Don’t you care for some, my lord?”
She froze in the process of taking another bite once she realized his eyes were riveted on her mouth.
“Will you feed it to me yourself, Lauren?” A hint of a smile twitched at his lips.
She blinked, and he was suddenly even closer.
“Of course not,” she stammered. “What a preposterous suggestion—”
“Then allow me the pleasure to do so for you…” Theodore’s voice lowered an octave, and it seemed as though they were the only two occupants in the room. Everything else, the noise, the laughter, the gaiety, all faded away. The earl’s eyes, so deep and mesmerizing, held hers. Lauren did not realize she was trapped like a rabbit in a snare until his finger gently traced the bare skin above her gloves.
She didn’t move away. No, to the contrary, she held still and held her breath, waiting for Theodore to do something more. Something… scandalous. Wicked. Even in a crowded room, there was no doubt the man would do as he pleased.
“You know you cannot do that, Theo. Besides, I’m not a child to be spoon-fed.”
“Eventually, you will admit I can do what I like with you, Lauren. I am finding the waiting for your acceptance of that fact to be tedious.”
“What would you do with me?” Lauren asked, her mouth curving with a little smile.
“Ah, now you tease me.”
Lauren blushed. “I’m not. I only wonder…”
“Come with me, Lauren.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because I want you to.” Theodore’s head tilted as he watched her reaction to his demand. No one could see, but his finger inched from the back of her elbow to the side of her breast. Lauren trembled while he stroked the curve there. Even through the satin of her dress, the heat of his fingertips melted and burned her skin. “Because it’s time I show you exactly what I will do with you. You will goddamn love it; I promise you that,” he said in a deceptively calm voice. “Go wait for me in the west hall.”
When he removed the bowl of lemon ice from her hand, Lauren could not find an objection within her indignation at being ordered so cavalierly. Her breathing had gone shallow, her cheeks flushed with warmth, and a terrible, frightening excitement raced along the network of her veins. This was dangerous. Dangerous and yet unavoidable.
“I won’t ask again,” he hissed in her ear, his lips brushing the fragile skin. “Go.”
Lauren did as commanded. Even though her brain screamed she should stay within the relative safety of the crowd. Even though she knew he would take something from her she could not afford to lose once he got her alone.
It was easy to slip away unnoticed from the salon, easy to find the deserted west hall and hide along the deep shadows of the corridor. And very easy to convince herself this was a colossal mistake.
Once out of Theodore’s orbit, the swirling thoughts inside her head calmed. She could think clearly. Rationally. She risked scandal with her actions, and she would be wise to hurry along to her room before someone discovered her lurking along the darkened halls and demanded an explanation.
Then she saw it. A kissing bough overhead, one of ten anchored down the hallway. She stared at it for a long moment, considering its presence. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as her anger, slow to awaken, was roused to such a point that an outlet was necessary.
There were so many of the blasted things in the house. A multitude. They’d grown in number since just yesterday. There was only one reason for so many…
A pair of heavily carved dark oak chairs rested against the wall on either side of an equally heavy Elizabethan style buffet chest. Lauren dragged one of the chairs to the middle of the hall and scrambled atop it. By stretching one arm up and holding on to the carved chair back, balanced high on her tiptoes, she could just barely reach the edge of the offending decoration. Once she had it within her grasp, she ripped it free of its moorings so that it fell to the floor.
That task complete, she carefully hopped down, scraping the chair along the plush carpeting to the ne
xt bough. It would take some time to remove all ten of the things. How many could she do before Theodore arrived?
She bit back a muffled scream of alarm when a masculine arm hooked her waist
“What do you think you are doing?” Theodore’s eyes glittered in the dim light. He held a bowl of lemon ice in his free hand while effortlessly keeping her captive with the other. “Redecorating?”
He’d scared at least five years off her life, but Lauren couldn’t let him know that. “Why on earth did I agree to meet you—”
His gaze darted to the bundle of mistletoe laying on the floor and back to her. “You don’t know why you agreed?”
She cringed a little; the upward tip of her chin haughty. “No.”
“You know why, Lauren.” Theodore’s grin was slow and wicked.
Lauren’s mouth dropped open at his calm, matter-of-fact statement. Before she could voice a horrified denial, Theodore’s hand tightened on her upper arm. Tugging her into step beside him, he led her to a huge inset of floor to ceiling windows.
The alcove appeared specifically designed for intimate encounters. Deep and spacious, several persons could stand behind the thick curtains and remain undetected from those passing by. Theodore pushed Lauren against the nook’s inside wall where the drape of the curtains hid their bodies from view. Streaming through the glass panes, the full moon reflected off the fresh snowfall. It illuminated the space with the brightness of candlelight.
For reasons Lauren couldn’t understand, the bowl of lemon ice still sat palmed in Theodore’s large hand, balanced there as he considered her with a slightly furrowed brow.
“I asked you a question yesterday at the pond, and I ask the same question now. Do you still trust me?”
Lauren shook her head to the contrary. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him precisely why.
“Understandable. So, I will give you a truth in the hopes of changing your mind,” he said in a low voice. “But you shall remain very still for me while you listen. No matter what I do. Agreed?”
Curiosity got the better of Lauren. What might this devil admit to? What secret would he reveal? What would he do to her?
A jerky nod of her head indicated her acquiescence.
“Good girl.”
His half-smile and those two words sent an unwanted flush of pleasure cascading throughout her body. As she watched, Theodore dipped the spoon into the bowl, brought the dessert to his own mouth, and swallowed. Then, as if in slow motion, he leaned forward until his lips brushed Lauren’s.
The sweet tanginess of lemon transferred from him to her. When she inhaled with surprise, he immediately took advantage, his tongue sweeping past the barrier of her teeth and plunging deep.
Lauren moaned, a small sound of distressed arousal escaping her throat that made Theodore draw back. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers, took a deep breath, and let it out in a small woosh.
“I hated what our fathers did to us, Lauren. Hated it. And I hated deceiving you.”
Chapter 9
Lauren’s heart seized with the ring of truth in his words. Still, she remained silent.
“For months, my father and yours manipulated our future. Although, once I laid eyes on you, mine was entwined with yours regardless of their plans. It still is, Lauren. Don’t you believe that?”
Theodore placed a forefinger beneath her chin and tipped until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. He contemplated her, his expression so serious it left her feeling splintered and yet, somehow complete. “They wanted us together. But the only thing that matters is us and what we want. I know what I want, Lauren. Do you? Do you know what you want?”
She couldn’t answer, not when everything in the little alcove was topsy-turvy and the blood in her veins beat in time with the cadence of his voice. If not for the wall against her back, she would have swayed in an unsteady rhythm of desire and uncertainty.
Theodore’s finger trailed from her chin, down her neck, to the mounds of flesh straining against the boundaries of her gown. While she stood frozen in paralyzed delight, he loosened the ribbons of the bodice then breached the prison of the corset and her undergarments with relative ease.
He did not stop until she was bare to him and the lick of the silvery moonlight. She did not struggle, held captive by something wild and wicked.
The lemon ice was now little more than a tangy, sweet slush. Watching her intently, Theodore slowly and deliberately dipped the china vessel so the liquid drizzled out.
It dripped across her collarbone, painting the voluptuous, upper curves of her breasts where they swelled above the corset, and finally gilded the tips of her nipples. Theodore placed the empty bowl aside, his hands now free to grip her waist and hold her in place.
Lauren gasped at the sensation, shivering as the icy stream trailed over her heated flesh. Hearing the sound, Theodore growled deep in his throat, bent his head, and chased every rivulet with the scorch of his tongue.
“I want you, my wild, sweet Lauren. I want your fire. Your bite. Your passion. Everything.” The words were murmured against her skin, his lips moving over her, tasting and nipping every exposed piece he could find. The furnace of his mouth closed over the tip of her breast, his tongue swirling about the hardened peak like a lick of flame, contrasting exquisitely with the frost of the lemon ice. “I cannot get enough of you.”
She should have pushed him away, but for some reason, her hands clasped his head tighter to her, her fingers raking through the thick waves of his hair. A satisfied, yet unfulfilled moan trembled in her chest as Theodore’s teeth captured, then gently rolled her nipple. The sharp nip that chased it made her heart nearly explode.
“Theo… Theo, please…” Her whisper was mindless. She did not know what she begged for, but Theodore did.
“Yes, love. Yes. I’ll please you… I shall devote my life to pleasing you.” With leisurely wantonness, he trailed kisses to her other breast, lavishing the same attention and dedication upon it until she writhed, helpless in his arms.
“What do you think happened here?”
“It looks like a kissing bough fell and someone tried to repair it. Stupid buggers left the chair in the middle of the corridor, didn’t they?”
The unexpectedness of two male voices in the hallway nearly sent Lauren into a panic. She froze in place, her hands stilling in Theodore’s hair as she registered the fact two other people stood on the other side of the thick velvet curtain.
Theodore’s head raised, his eyebrow quirking high as he recognized the danger of their predicament.
“Too lazy to fetch a ladder, I suppose,” one of the men offered.
“Here, I’ll fix it.”
“Leave it for morning,” the first one said in a bored manner. “After all, the downstairs maids are responsible for that. I say we tell Mister Collins and let him handle it.”
“At least we can move the chair back.”
Raising a finger to his lips, Theodore made a “shh” signal then, with his other hand, lightly pinched Lauren’s nipple into a stiff peak of arousal. When it seemed she might cry out from the onslaught, he brushed his lips over hers and slyly whispered, “If we are caught like this, you in my arms like this, your breasts exposed like this, and my mouth exploring you like this, you can be damned sure I shall have you as my wife before the sun sets tomorrow. So be still, my darling, else you make that particular dream come true.”
Then he fully claimed her mouth, lashing his tongue at hers as if daring her to expose their hiding place.
While the two servants went about setting the chair in its rightful place and discussed how much trouble the downstairs maids might be in, Theodore pressed his advantage and Lauren kept her silence. Her head became muddled, so dazed by the swirl of emotions he evoked that she forgot why she fought being his. He kissed her so voraciously, so tenderly, and so completely that Lauren wasn’t sure if there was a good reason not to allow him his way.
Between kisses, he nipped an
d licked her flesh, soothing one instant and setting her afire the next. He shifted his body as well, pushing between her knees, forcing her legs wider until one large muscular thigh thrust between her own.
There was something terribly primal and basic about that. Something that made Lauren push against the stone-like hardness of his limbs. Something that made her rub against him, searching for relief for the unsettling sensation flowing through her body. Something that made her want to never let him go.
“That’s it, my darling,” Theodore crooned, devouring the sensitive area behind her ear. “Whatever you want, I will give you…”
One huge hand curled around her throat, urging her chin heavenward so more of the tender flesh was exposed. He sucked and bit the smooth column of her neck with that one hand controlling her breath while the other molded her breast to fit his palm, tweaking the nipple until it pebbled almost painfully, sending Lauren down a fathomless vortex of lust.
Her body rocked back and forth, using Theodore’s silken steel muscles as an instrument to send lighting sparks of excruciating pleasure twirling along every nerve ending. She was so close to an amazing discovery. Pressure built inside her veins. Inside her bones. Her blood. Between her thighs, behind the thickness of her skirts and her flimsy undergarments, it was there. There.
Theodore ground harder against her, his growl reverberating until it echoed in her head. A whimper of need, of confusion, of want and frustration fluttered between her lips.
A plaintive, desperate cry for release.
Theodore responded with quicksilver speed. One moment his hand was on her breast, the next it was up and under her skirts. His leg eased away; his palm replaced it. The heat of him burned through her undergarments. The unyielding pressure as he pressed exactly where she needed him was blissfully exquisite, his hand cupping her sex until she thought she might dissolve like a sugar cube dropped in hot tea.
The hand around her neck tightened the slightest bit, but she wasn’t frightened. If anything, she felt more secure as he held her in place. A crazy thought flitted through her mind at that moment and was gone the next instant.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 110