He smile briefly. “I have very few of those.” None who knew the whole story of his background. Apart from, it now seemed, Adam Stirling, the Duke of Hawkwood.
“Your lovers, then?” Rachel prompted.
Gray drew in a sharp breath at her bluntness. “I have none of those.”
Her expression brightened. “None?”
“Not currently, no,” he confirmed.
Rachel pulled her hands free of his. “Did you purposefully say it in that way to put me in my place?”
Gray breathed out noisily as he ran an agitated hand through the thickness of his hair. “Rachel, whatever fantasies you might have weaved inside your head about me, you must know there can be nothing between the two of us. I am a mere estate manager, who can be dismissed at any time and at my employer’s whim. You are the daughter of a lord.”
Her cheeks had slowly paled at his words. “Neither of those things prevents the two of us from being friends.”
The real problem was that Rachel’s behavior indicated she wanted more. Gray knew he wanted more from her than friendship. Much more.
He had been alone for so long, never daring to let down his guard, but Rachel had simply walked through all his barriers, rendering him vulnerable to the warmth of desire he could see in her glittering green eyes.
Yes, he knew Rachel was young in actual years, but whether or not it was because of the Duchess of Weston’s teachings at her school—Gray felt sure her pupils were taught subjects other than sexual matters!—or for another reason, Rachel had an air of maturity about her that spoke of someone older and wiser. Indeed, both the Countess of Harrogate and Lady Clara Stone had that same assurance, and a determination to reach out and grasp what they wanted.
Currently, Rachel appeared to want to be with him.
And, God help him, Gray wanted her in return. More desperately with the passing of each day.
Even now, his hands still tingled from where Rachel had held them seconds ago. A tingle that had shot down his arms, across his chest, and down into his balls. It heated and stirred his cock until it was rigid with need and want inside his pantaloons, pre-cum dampening his drawers.
A need and want Gray was finding it increasingly difficult to fight against. Most especially so when Rachel was determined he would not be allowed to hold her at arm’s length.
Her expression softened as she seemed to sense some of his inner turmoil. “I promise I will release you from any further pressure to remain at the reception the moment our dance is over.”
Some of the tension left Gray’s shoulders as he returned her smile. “You would make a formidable negotiator in business.”
“I did not think it was appropriate for ladies to know those things existed, let alone become involved in such mundane matters.” The dry tone of her voice confirmed for Gray that Rachel was aware of many things it was not appropriate for any lady, let alone one so young, to know.
“In your case, perhaps that is as well,” Gray drawled. “I have no doubt business rivals would end up giving their wares away in an effort to outbid you. You certainly managed to defeat my objections easily enough,” he added self-disgustedly.
She chuckled. “I am sure that can only be because deep down, you really wish to attend the wedding reception.”
“I really do not— You are getting colder!” He scowled his displeasure as she gave another involuntary shiver. “Here.” He shrugged his arms out of his superfine before moving to place it about the slenderness of her shoulders.
Rachel luxuriated in the heat as that jacket totally enfolded her within its depths. She was also aware of the clean citrus smell she always associated with Grayso—Gray, she mentally corrected, the warmth inside her deepening at being invited to call him by that more intimate name. She was also aware of the pervasive male musk that made her nipples harden and created a different sort of heat inside her that coiled within and aroused her core.
She frowned as she saw Gray now wore only a silver brocade waistcoat over his white shirt and neckcloth. “Now you are the one who is cold.” She held his gaze as she stepped closer to him. “Perhaps there is a way we can share the warmth of your jacket and our body heat.” She slipped the garment from her shoulders before draping it about his and then stepping closer still, her arms wrapping firmly about his waist as she raised her face to look at him. “Is this not cozier?”
A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw. “It is also completely inappropriate— Damn it, now it has begun to snow again!” He looked up at the delicate white flakes falling gently from the overcast sky.
“Come on.” Rachel gave a lighthearted laugh as she moved back to clasp one of his hands in her own. “Let us run back to the shelter of the church.”
They held hands to prevent each other from falling on the icy snow as they hurried back to the front of the church. By the time they stepped into the sheltered entryway, both of them were covered in the snowflakes that now fell heavier and faster.
Gray swept off his hat to shake the snow from it, placing it on one of the benches that stood on either side of the entrance into the main part of the church before turning to look at Rachel.
She had thrown off the damp shawl to reveal the creamy expanse of her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. The hand she had lifted to remove her bonnet now faltered and stilled as her gaze rose and she saw how intently Gray was staring at her. “Gray…?” she prompted uncertainly.
He drew in a shuddering breath, hands clenched at his sides, as he fought against his overpowering need to take Rachel in his arms and kiss her within an inch of her life. To touch her. Caress her. Until she was as much out of her mind with the need to claim him as he was to claim her. “We should not be alone here,” he bit out between clenched teeth.
Rachel continued to hold his gaze as she completed removing her bonnet. She placed it down on the bench beside her mother’s shawl before stepping gracefully toward him. The swell of her breasts quickly rose and fell as their gazes remained locked.
Gray was completely impervious to the cold, and all the air seemed to be sucked from his lungs the longer he and Rachel stared at each other. Nor did he have any idea which of them made the first move, but suddenly, they were in each other’s arms, the meeting of lips fierce with their longing.
To Rachel, having Gray kiss her felt more like a meeting and melding of two souls.
As if she had come home after a long and treacherous journey.
Was a floundering ship returning to its safe harbor.
Her gloved hands skimmed up the front of Gray’s waistcoat and onto and about his shoulders. He pulled her closer still as, with a groan, he deepened the kiss. Their lips locked together. Tongues dueled. Breaths mingled. Strong hands caressed the length of Rachel’s spine as she continued to cling to the heat of Gray’s muscular shoulders.
Gray pulled his mouth from Rachel’s, his lips roaming moistly across the warmth of her cheek and then down the length of her throat to the sensitive hollow at its base.
Rachel was unable to prevent the quiver of pleasure that shot from the top of her spine to its base and caused a warm explosion of that same pleasure between her thighs.
She had fantasized about Gray kissing her, of course she had, but this was so much more that she had imagined. Gray was so much more than any man she could ever have daydreamed into existence.
He was older.
Experienced.
A man who had not flinched in the face of danger, not once but twice. Once when he saved Lord Stone’s life and the second time when he saved Rachel from the charging bull. Gray had met both those adversaries head on and then eliminated them.
Rachel knew from Clara exactly who was responsible for the death of the man who had wished to harm Lord Stone. As she knew of Clara’s never ending gratitude toward Gray for having saved the man she loved and so was able to marry earlier today.
Above all that, Rachel wanted him. Gray. Grayson. Mr. Long. Under whatever guise he came to her, Rachel wa
nted him.
She pulled back only slightly, unwilling to relinquish the heated hardness of Gray’s body against her own. “Let us go into the church where it is warmer.”
Looking down at the beautiful woman in his arms, Gray wanted nothing more than to rip the gown from her voluptuous body. To feast and gorge himself on her heat and the softness of her skin. To taste and lick every part of her until the release of her pleasure told him she was completely his.
Going inside, to the cell off the altar, where he knew a fire had been lit earlier so that he and Lord Stone might wait out the arrival of the bride in comfort, would bring him a step closer to fulfilling that fantasy. To making Rachel irrevocably his.
Something he must never—could never do.
“We cannot.” He reached up to grasp hold of the tops of her arms so that Rachel remained in place as he stepped back from her. He wanted nothing more than to pull her back against him when he saw the hurt in her eyes before it was masked by the lowering of her lashes. “Rachel, try to understand—”
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” she assured in a brittle voice. “I am suitable amusement for a few stolen kisses, but not good enough to fuck.”
“Rachel!”
Her smile mocked his shock. “Forgive me. I thought that was how men prefer to refer to the act?”
His lips thinned. “Perhaps some men do, when it does not involve their wife or the woman they love.”
She gave him a scathing glance. “Then you must believe it is the perfect description for intimacy between the two of us.”
“You are attributing ideas and emotions to me that I do not have, and consequently putting words in my mouth.”
“How strange,” she drawled. “When I would far rather put something else in your mouth— What are you doing?” she demanded when Gray grasped one of her gloved hands, then threw open the huge wooden door of the church and pulled her inside. “Gray?”
He did not so much as glance back at her stumbling progress as he pulled her along the aisle and into the cell where the vicar kept his vestments. The warmth in the room immediately enveloped them from the fire the vicar had damped down before joining the bride and groom and their guests at Banford Manor. Gray went down on his haunches and used the poker to stimulate life into the coals before adding a piece of wood from the basket nearby. Within seconds, fresh flames licked around the log.
A nerve pulsed in Gray’s tightly clenched jaw when he straightened. He then used the hold he still had on Rachel’s hand to swing her round to face him, so quickly, she stumbled again when he released her before regaining her balance. “Remove your gown,” he instructed in a harsh voice.
Those green eyes widened. “Gray…?”
He turned her and began to unfasten the tiny pearl buttons down the length of her spine. “Your gown is damp, and you will take a chill if you remain in it for much longer.” The gown unfastened, Gray slipped the material down her arms before allowing it to fall to her ankles. “Step out of the gown,” he instructed flatly, waiting until she had done so before draping the garment over one of the armchairs either side of the fireplace.
Which was when he finally looked at her, dressed only in a thin white camisole and drawers, her white stockings held up by rose-decorated garters.
She made no move to shield herself as her creamy breasts quickly rose and fell, the nipples tight and swelling, their rosy color clearly defined against the thin cotton.
Gray had no idea what madness possessed him, but he had no wish to stop either. He had given up so much of who he was seventeen years ago that, for the moment, he needed this, wanted to be the man who Rachel desired so much, she was willing to cast propriety aside so that she might linger at the church and be with him. That they might be together.
Today, he had witnessed a marriage between two people whose love for each other was so strong and undeniable, it shone out from their eyes whenever they so much as glanced each other. It became a discernable frisson in the air the moment they shared the slightest touch.
It was a love and closeness Gray knew his past forever denied him.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have something that resembled those feelings and that closeness.
Even if only briefly.
Rachel had made it clear on more than one occasion that she wanted him. And there was no denying that he wanted her. There was no reason they could not share something. That they could not achieve a closeness that would not forever damn Rachel in the eyes of her family, friends, or Society. He could, and would, control any pleasure they shared so as to ensure he did not ruin her.
He moved to sit in the other armchair beside the fire before patting his thighs in invitation. “Come sit with me, Rachel. No, not like that.” He stopped her as she would have seated herself sideways across the tops of his legs. “I want you to face the fire and straddle my thighs.”
The source of the heat in Rachel cheeks no longer came from the fire but from the excitement building inside her as she slowly turned away from Gray, then did as he asked.
It felt strange not to be able to see him and yet sit with her hands resting upon his knees for balance as her legs straddled his thighs. The slit in her drawers gaped wide open as Gray slowly parted his legs, forcing Rachel’s legs to widen further still.
“Do you trust me?” His breath was a warm caress against her nape.
It was a strange question to ask any woman when she was half-naked and sitting on his thighs with her legs parted in invitation. But Rachel was not just any woman, and she had no intention of allowing Gray to think she was.
“I will not answer that until you call me by my name.” She held her breath as she waited for his answer, knowing that by pushing him this way, she risked breaking whatever spell had sensuously weaved itself about the two of them. But she needed to know the answer to her demand.
He shifted slightly, his lips soft against the side of her neck. “Rachel, do you trust me not to do anything to hurt you or your reputation?”
Did she? Of course she did. Gray had done nothing but save her life and act the gentleman toward her since the moment they first met.
And now, when she was sitting upon his thighs, physically exposed? Did she trust him now?
The Duchess of Weston’s school had ensured she knew of many ways in which a man and woman might find pleasure together without either of them placing themselves in the irretrievable position of ruining their reputation.
She turned slightly so that her lips grazed the side of Gray’s ear when she spoke. “I trust you not to hurt me, Gray.”
His body tensed and then eased as he sat back so that his lean fingers could slip beneath the ribbon shoulder strap of her camisole, easing it down her arm before repeating the movement with the second strap.
The material instantly fell down to her waist, exposing the fullness of her breasts. This room was warmer than the church, or outside in the falling snow, but the air was still cool enough to harden Rachel’s nipple further. They now stood out from her breasts, firm and engorged, and darker in color.
Or perhaps that was the physical arousal growing inside her as she waited to see what Gray intended to do to her next.
She drew in a sharp breath before glancing down to watch as two disembodied hands cupped beneath her breasts. The thumb and index fingers moved to capture and then roll, squeeze and alternately pull on her nipples.
The pleasure and heat became all-consuming, her breathing ragged as she continued to stare at those dexterous fingers for long and arousing minutes as they manipulated and stretched her nipples almost to the point of pain.
Warm breath brushed against her skin seconds before she felt moist lips exploring the curve of her throat and nape. She let her head fall back against Gray’s shoulders, not sure if she gasped from pleasure or pain seconds later as sharp teeth bit down into her flesh.
“Sit up, lean slightly forward, and keep watching my hands,” Gray instructed harshly. “Do not look away again, or I sha
ll stop.”
There was a warning in his voice Rachel briefly thought of challenging—very briefly—until Gray’s fingers squeezed harder on her oversensitive flesh, eliciting a needy groan from her. She wanted more from him, not less. More pleasure. More pain. More. More. More. The thought of Gray stopping before that happened was enough to cause Rachel to sit up straight and push her breasts more fully into his palms. The wafting scent of her own arousal dampened her drawers and pulled her deeper into Gray’s sensual spell, so that only he and the pleasure he gave her mattered.
She groaned in aching protest as one of Gray’s hands moved down to her waist to unfasten the ribbon of her drawers. He pushed the material down enough that the dark blonde curls covering her mound were visible.
“Lift up,” he encouraged softly.
Rachel did not have a single thought about disobeying him. Instead, she shuffled forward so that she was able to place her toes on the hearthrug and lift up enough for Gray to pull her drawers down fully to her knees before discarding them completely.
There was a rustle of clothing behind her, then Gray’s arm about her waist pulled her against him so that her back was totally flush with his now bare and heated chest. Telling her the rustling of clothing had been the removal of his waistcoat and shirt.
Rachel could also feel the hard length of his erection pressing against her bottom from inside his pantaloons.
“Watch,” he encouraged again gruffly.
Rachel drew in a gasping breath as she looked down at one of Gray’s hands once again cupping her breast, and his fingers began to pull on her plump and engorged nipple. His other hand moved from her waist, fingers caressing her belly, until they moved to where her pussy was fully exposed.
The curls there were damp with Rachel’s juices, and she couldn’t look away as Gray’s fingers expertly parted that dampness to reveal her red and swollen clit.
Rachel had felt how swollen that organ could get during sexual stimulation when she pleasured herself in bed at night, but she had never sat up and looked down at it before now.
The sight of Gray’s fingers stroking and caressing that hardened nub was enough to cause a gush of fresh juices from her channel. A wetness Gray dipped his fingers in before using it to aid his way as he once again stroked and manipulated her clit.
Scandal: Regency Lovers 6 Page 4