With his thumb, he tilted her chin up towards him. Her eyes seemed to have captured the stars and sparkled their light at him through the darkness.
“What sort of man would have such wicked intentions?” she asked.
“The simplest of men. You look far too ravishing not to be noticed.”
He could wait no longer and crushed his lips on top of hers, pulling her to him. It had been too long since last he tasted her. In their days away, any idle moment was filled with thoughts of her. It was as if his desire for her was even greater in absence.
He thought he heard her sigh as he devoured her with his mouth. She gave a muffled protest at his vigor. He wanted to be gentle, but his hunger for her was too great. She could not tease him with her sensuous attire or by dancing with all those other men and not expect him to claim her in any way his body dictated.
He leaned her back onto the cold marble of the bench and pushed the feeble fabric of her gown down to suckle her breast. The nipple hardened instantly for him. He groped the other breast with his hand and heard her moan. His desire pressed against his pants, seeking to mate with her. Having gone days without her, he feared he would not be able to last long if he did not take her soon.
His hand found the hem of her dress and he followed her leg up towards her womanhood. She was wet. So deliciously wet.
After teasing her clitoris until her breath became an uneasy pant, he pushed himself off her to remove his coat. He would have preferred to remove his cravat and shirt if he could, but it would take too long to reassemble his attire.
With her head hanging off the marble bench, her back arched, and one knee pointed towards the sky, Darcy looked like a virginal sacrifice in a pagan ritual. He pressed his mouth into the stretch of her neck and then down into the crevice of her collarbone. He had already pulled his eager erection from his pants and positioned himself on top of her.
He plunged into her, and the bliss that greeted him was like the first taste of food for someone who had been fasting a fortnight. He was meant to be here. With her. In her softness, her wetness, her warmth.
The sound of voices startled her and she raised her head to look at him with nervous eyes.
“We will be discovered here,” she whispered and attempted to push him off her.
“Unlikely,” he responded without moving. “This is no easy part of the maze to reach. I wonder how you managed to discover it.”
“Yes, if I can find it, then others may as well.” Again, she tried to free herself from under him.
“Then let them.” He stroked in and out of her.
She glared at him. “That may be well for you, but I have no intention of insulting our hosts, especially given that I had not formally received an invitation.”
“Then why did you come?” he asked in earnest.
She smiled wryly. “Your mistress advised me that it was an event not to be missed.”
For a moment, Radcliff paused. So Penelope had been to see Darcy. He should not have been surprised. Perhaps he should have ended his relationship with Lady Robbins as he had thought to do many times before he had even met Darcy.
“What else did she advise you?”
“I ought not betray a confidence shared in sisterhood.”
He could not tell if she was being coy or truthful. He thought he detected a hurt tone, and her renewed struggles seemed almost angry.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“No,” he refused and moved once more against her in a motion that enabled his arousal to graze the bottom of her engorged pleasure bud. “I have been without you for days and as sure as hell have no intention of stopping now.”
Letting out a cry of frustration, she hit him on the upper arm and strained against his chest. The wriggling of her body beneath his only served to arouse him more. Grabbing her wrists in one hand, he locked them underneath her head and thrust further into her. He bucked his hips against hers until he could no longer tell if she writhed in protest or pleasure.
Her moaning signaled that her resistance had been replaced with desire. She cried out in ecstasy this time, her body shuddering against his. Only then did Radcliff give in to his own climactic end. Grunting low, he shoved himself into her, spilling his seed deep in her womb in what felt like a dozen waves.
He felt like collapsing atop her but knew that her neck and arms must have been sore from her precarious position. He gently pulled her on top of him to the ground and allowed her to rest her head upon his chest. Her eyes were closed and her breath had returned to a more moderate rhythm. Both the feel and sound of her breathing had a calming effect on him, and he felt a tremendous sense of peace.
As he massaged the back of her neck and stared up into the night sky, he wondered if he could ever let her go.
*****
Radcliff helped Darcy fix her gown and her hair so that only the most detailed scrutiny would tell that she had been mussed. Women always bore the greater vestige of coupling, and as he gently cleansed her thighs at the fountain, he felt desire stirring once more. He held back the urge to undo all their efforts and take her again.
“You still owe me two dances,” he told her after he had led them out of the maze, marveling at how much more beautiful she looked after being ravished.
“You never said they had to be tonight,” she returned playfully.
“Was it not your intention to see me humiliated?”
The words had no sooner left his mouth before he wished he could retract them.
Her eyes were unreadable, but she removed her hand from his and said curtly, “Consider yourself granted a reprieve, Baron.”
She returned to the ballroom, leaving Radcliff to curse to himself. He had not meant what he said. True, it had been her purpose to provide him a set-down, but he could have chosen better words. Surely she could see that he could have avoided her the entire evening but chose not only to speak to her but to dance with her—and with the knowledge that he would not only set tongues wagging but had effectively invited upon himself the horrified lamentations of his aunt Anne.
“Quite an engaging creature, I must say,” Lord Pinkerton pronounced as he came up behind Radcliff. “Although I can’t say I agree with Lady Worthley’s contrivance, it is a shame that Miss Sherwood should have been hiding from us all this time.”
“She inherited a sizeable debt from Jonathan Sherwood,” Radcliff explained, “and attempts to pay it off by working in a gaming hell.”
“Jonathan was endowed with a good heart but not much common sense.”
“The daughter is a much better gambler.”
“So I hear. Won the deed to Brayten from Edward, did she not?” Lord Pinkerton smiled in amusement. “Sorry to say that your cousin had it coming to him.”
Radcliff thought of Priscilla though he was sure Lord Pinkerton was not specifically referring to Edward’s relationship with her.
“Brayten will be in our hands soon enough,” Radcliff assured.
“And do you mean to seduce the deed from Miss Sherwood?”
Radcliff grinned wryly. “Frankly, by any means necessary.”
“Miss Sherwood appears a clever girl. Why not simply offer her money in exchange for the deed?”
Pressing his lips into a firm line, Radcliff responded, “Because she means to provide me a set-down first.”
“Ahhhh.” Lord Pinkerton clasped his hands behind his back and began to amble back towards the ballroom. When he turned to look back at Radcliff, his eyes glimmered with merriment. “Dare say I wouldn’t mind receiving a set-down from that one.”
Radcliff raised his brows. He had never heard Lord Pinkerton, one of the more devoted husbands of their time, utter anything quite so scandalous.
“If you persist in seducing Miss Sherwood,” said Lord Pinkerton, mounting the steps that led back inside, “do try not to do it on my favorite marble bench.”
*****
The following day Radcliff received on perfumed floral stationary the directive from Lady P
enelope Robbins that he need not visit her anymore. The letter made him want to rush out and see Miss Sherwood. Penelope had done some damage in her visit to Darcy, he was sure of it, though perhaps no more than he had done himself at the Pinkerton ball.
Miss Sherwood had left the ball early with Lady Worthley, to the relief of some and the consternation of others, and left Radcliff no opportunity to amend his earlier words. The ones he had used the day he met her had been particularly harsh, and he winced to simply recall them. He no longer cared what others thought of him if they saw him in her company.
Most of the guests last night were still confused by his actions. Anne had been so befuddled that she did not even bother to approach him. It was fortunate that she did not for he had had no patience for her that night. Edward had simply smirked. Those with cocks understood.
Radcliff could hardly wait till evening to see Darcy. He needed to take his mind off her and decided that driving his horses was just the thing.
Thinking about her, Radcliff urged his horses to a faster clip. His curricle was light and flew along the cobblestones as if the wheels barely touched the road. In his younger days he often engaged in curricle racing, but though he had given up that pastime, he still relished the wind that whipped by when his bays went into full gallop.
Darcy was unlikely to be at Mrs. T’s this early in the day, but Radcliff decided to swing his curricle into the area of St. James’s nonetheless. As luck would have it, he saw her walking along the alley just south of Pall Mall. She was deep in thought and unaware of his presence until he drew abreast of her.
“Would you care for a lift, Miss Sherwood?” he asked.
She smiled up at him with a warmth that he found gratifying and exhilarating. Her bonnet was a simple straw hat with a white ribbon, but he found it the most charming headdress.
“Are you offering me a choice, my lord?” she returned.
“It is best not to test my charity.”
“Very well, then I accept your offer,” she replied and allowed him to help her into the curricle.
“A penny for your thoughts?” he said as he led the horses into an easy canter.
She hesitated but then revealed that she had been contemplating a tutor for Nathan. Priscilla had brought up the matter.
“I suppose he is of an age that he should have one,” Darcy conceded. “Nathan is quite the avid learner, and there are limits to what Priscilla and I can teach him. And Priscilla insists she has the means to hire a tutor, though I can’t imagine that she has the requisite income to pay for one. And we really have no knowledge of where to find a tutor.”
“Allow me,” said Radcliff, not wanting her to dwell on where Priscilla’s new source of funds was coming from or where Priscilla had gotten the idea of hiring a tutor, which he had insisted upon. “I have some experience in the matter, having helped to secure one for my nephew years ago. I know my secretary could recommend a number of individuals of good moral character who would serve not only to provide the proper education for Nathan but also serve as a role model.”
“Would you?” she replied with such gratefulness in her eyes that Radcliff suddenly wanted to tell her that he would secure the world for her. “We should be extremely obliged.”
“I suppose,” she continued with lowered lashes, “there is a price? The deed to Brayten?”
“As I said, do not test my charity, Miss Sherwood,” Radcliff said simply.
She looked up at him and seemed about to speak, but said nothing. Radcliff would have given no small sum to hear what she would have said.
“This is not the route to Mrs. T’s,” she observed instead.
“I thought we could take a ride about Hyde Park unless you have more pressing matters.”
“That is quite presumptuous of you, my lord.”
“I beg your pardon. Have you urgent matters with Mrs. T? Or a poor fool whose pockets you need to relieve?”
“Lady Luck happens to be with you today,” she admitted, “but you should not be so bold in the future to think that I have naught but to be at your beck and command.”
Radcliff grinned wryly. “Miss Sherwood, I remind you that you are at my beck and command, but fear not, for I am confident that you will also want to be at my beck and command.”
“You are positively the most arrogant man I have ever met,” she pronounced, but this time there was no anger behind her voice.
The curricle pulled into the park, and she was soon distracted by the various gazes and arched brows they were drawing from onlookers. Radcliff noticed that whereas other women would have delighted and reveled in being seen in his company, Miss Sherwood seemed ill at ease. She shifted awkwardly and her thigh grazed his.
“Pay no heed to them,” he found himself saying sympathetically. “They are fond of exercising their brows.”
Miss Sherwood laughed. “Of course. I have lived most of my life not caring a fig for what such people think. I suppose you and I share that much in common.”
Broadmoor nodded. “It can be vastly entertaining to test just how high a person’s brows can arch.”
“Yours went fairly high that day you gave me your first set-down!”
“You mean when you gave me your set-down, madam!”
She laughed again and Broadmoor marveled at how lovely the sound was.
“I had never had my back up in such a manner,” Darcy admitted.
“Nor I mine.”
She shook her head. “You were abominable.”
“And you a wretched jade.”
“Yes, only you could make me take pride in such a label. What else had you called me? A Jezebel?”
“Wanton. Brazen.” Broadmoor felt his body temperature rise. He had angled the horses toward a small cottage and garden exhibit that had been closed for repair.
He leaped off the curricle and assisted Miss Sherwood to the ground.
“I neglected temptress,” he said in a low voice near her ear. He led her through an opening in the fence that led into the garden.
“Yes, many an innocent gentleman has succumbed to my arts,” she responded wryly.
“You know I have no desire to be a gentleman with you,” Broadmoor said as he pulled her to him roughly once they were hidden from view behind the wisteria bushes.
“How fortunate for me,” she murmured as she melted against him and succumbed to his forceful kisses.
He took her mouth in his with a desire to devour her. His veins felt as if they were filled with fire and his erection pressed painfully against his pantaloons. He hungered for her from the depths of his soul.
She reached a hand between his legs and stroked him through the fabric. Broadmoor groaned. He pushed the sleeves of her gown down and pressed his hot lips to her neck, her collarbone, and her bared shoulders. The fabric clung tightly to her and almost ripped in his effort to access her breasts. She gestured that there were buttons at the back, which he quickly undid until the dress pooled at her feet.
Her corset lifted and separated the breasts, but he mashed them together in order to tongue both nipples in quick succession. He heard her moan and felt her body arch towards his mouth. His desire throbbed, but he stalled his need to ravage her and swept her off her feet.
Laying her upon the ground, he pushed away her petticoats and dove between her legs. He breathed in the sweet and savory essence of her womanhood. She shuddered. He put his lips to her clit and bit the nub of flesh before licking it, then sucking it. He ran his tongue along her before pushing into her folds.
He allowed her a moment to relax from her climax as he unbuttoned his pantaloons. She looked at him with a dazed expression but desire burned clearly in those eyes. Even now he found it difficult to look into their brilliance for long. Kneeling before her, he shoved himself into her waiting wetness. Her warmth engulfed him and it took him a moment to prevent himself from spending that instant.
When he had regained control, he pulled himself out and began a slow but steady motion. She lifted her hips
to meet each thrust and entwined her fingers in his. Radcliff pushed himself harder and faster into her, her breasts bouncing with each shove. He thrust into her as if he meant to permanently impale her on his erection. Sweat beaded upon his forehead and on his upper lip as he drove himself deep into her. She came with a violent shudder and a scream that could have drawn half the Park visitors.
With a few more quick thrusts, Broadmoor was able to come. Collapsing on top of her, he could feel the points of her nipples pressing hard into his chest. Lifting himself up onto his forearms, he kissed her lightly on her moist brow.
As he looked down at the glow upon her face, he came to the conclusion that he could not be without her.
He wanted her for his own and would claim her as his mistress.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEY STRODE THROUGH the park and were left alone for the most part. They talked of family—Darcy was delighted that Radcliff seemed to take an interest in hearing more about Nathan. They talked of a great many things: their childhood, politics, and even the mundane.
Darcy walked with strides light as air. She had not known what to expect in appearing at the Pinkerton ball last night. She certainly would not have predicted, though she hoped, that Radcliff would accept being seen in her company. Indeed, he had sought it by asking her to dance. And though they had not parted last evening on the best of terms—she later wished she had not been so easily upset—he had more than compensated for his words by taking her to the most public of parks.
Scorn and ridicule would undoubtedly be cast upon him, and Darcy regretted the position she had put him in. His fall from society’s graces would be harder than hers had been for his was a loftier position to begin with. And yet as she stole a glance at his handsome profile, he seemed unperturbed by those prospects. His confidence emboldened her, and her heart filled with a warmth suspiciously like …affection.
Perhaps she did want to be at his beck and command.
When Radcliff assisted her down off the curricle after returning her to Mrs. T’s, Darcy felt another layer of caution melt away.
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