by Lauren Smith
“Dinner should be ready,” her father announced. “Rachel, I’ve had the footman set up two places for the children.”
“Thank you, Uncle.” Rachel smiled with delight and gave Alex’s hand a gentle squeeze in silent support.
Everyone walked toward the dining room, Rachel and her husband going first to see to the children. Ambrose sidled up behind Alex. She was intimately aware of his body heat, and the feel of him so close made her dizzy.
“The children are to dine with us?” he asked in a low whisper, close enough that it stirred the fine hairs behind her left ear, making her shiver. She didn’t miss the note of surprise in his voice.
She turned her head to reply and blinked at how close they were. He placed a hand on her lower back as they exited the drawing room. Her gown was not particularly thin, but the heat of his palm seemed to sink through the layers of fabric with a delicious burn.
“I know it’s unusual, but Papa loves the children. The idea of shutting them away in a dusty old nursery offends him.”
“Ah.” Ambrose’s lips twitched. “Such a soft heart, your father.”
“Yes, he is,” she agreed, smiling back, but another twinge of pain hit her at the thought of how sad her father must be to have no grandbabies of his own. She was an only child, and she’d failed to give him that one great joy. Had she been too selfish all these years in hiding away? It was entirely possible she might have found a decent man to marry, one who would love her and tolerate her bluestocking tendencies and her love of the country, but there would be no passion. She couldn’t fathom being married to someone and not feeling that wild desperation that made her heart sing and her skin flush. As always, though, she questioned whether she was falling into a trap where only lust drove her and not love.
But I haven’t lusted after anyone since Marshall…except for Ambrose.
“Alex?” Ambrose whispered, studying her face closely. More than ever, in that moment she wanted to lean into him and take comfort in being in his arms. That was one of the many dangerous things about Ambrose—he made her long for him. Even in such a simple way as to be held and comforted.
“It’s nothing,” she lied, forcing a bright smile upon her face and stepping away from him as they entered the dining room.
The footmen were seating Emma and Griffin between their parents. The little girl was daintily folding her linen napkin on her lap, watching her mother closely. Griffin, however, was bouncing up and down in his seat, making little whoosh noises, which amused Randolph even as he tried to shush the boy.
“This should be most entertaining,” Ambrose chuckled as he led Alex to a seat opposite her cousin and pulled back her chair. She murmured a polite thanks and then tensed as he sat down beside her. It was so strange to have him here at an intimate family dinner, yet as the courses were served and conversation began, Ambrose simply fit into her family as though he’d always been a part of it. Her chest was filled with a fuzzy warmth that made her unable to stop smiling.
“So, Worthing, you spend much of your time in London?” Randolph asked.
“Yes, I like the liveliness of the city.” He paused, then glanced Alex. “But the country is proving to have its charms.”
Randolph smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. “That it does. A man never realizes how full life is in the country until he’s happily settled down in a nice house with a garden and acreage to go shooting in. Nothing compares to it.”
“I quite agree. There’s a peacefulness here that I hadn’t thought I’d enjoy so much. The gardens are quite pleasant.” His lips twitched as he sipped his wine from his crystal goblet.
A heavy blush stole over Alex’s face as she knew what he was referring to. Their garden tryst during the picnic and how they’d both been carried away. It had indeed been very pleasant—more than pleasant.
Suddenly Griffin used his spoon to fling a giant spoonful of peas straight across the table at Alex and Ambrose. The little green projectiles sprayed wide, plinking into water glasses and bouncing off their clothes.
For a second no one spoke or reacted, except for one of the young footmen hiding in the corner who stifled a chuckle behind a gloved hand. He hastily recovered himself and straightened, his eyes focused straight ahead.
“Griffin! You eat peas, you do not toss them at family members!” Rachel chastised sharply, looking completely horrified at her son’s wayward behavior. “Mr. Worthing, please accept my apologies —”
Griffin’s bottom lip began to quiver as his mother scowled darkly at him with motherly vengeance gleaming in her eyes.
“Nonsense.” Ambrose burst out laughing. “The little fellow has quite good aim.” He winked at the little boy. Seeing Ambrose’s conspiratorial wink, the boy brightened, even under his mother’s now -embarrassed glare.
“Randolph, dear, I think it might be time to put the children to bed. They can finish their supper in the nursery.” Rachel shot her husband a determined look.
“Yes, yes, of course, my love.” Randolph scooped up Griffin and took Emma’s hand and hastily exited the dining room. Her father watched them go, a wistful expression on his face.
“Such little dears,” he murmured. “That Griffin is delightfully cheeky, isn’t he?”
“Too much like his father,” Rachel said with a sigh, but her lips were curved upward.
Alex’s gaze dropped to her plate, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She really had disappointed her father by not marrying and having children. It was painfully obvious how much he longed for them.
“Well”—Rockford cleared his throat and looked around—“shall we retire to the drawing room? Ladies, I assume you have much to discuss. Ambrose and I will drink some port in my study before we join you, won’t we, my boy?”
“Of course,” Ambrose agreed amicably.
The gentlemen escorted them to the drawing room before they left on their quest for port and cigars.
A footman brought a set of sherry glasses to the ladies on a silver tray. Alex accepted her glass of sherry and took a sip before turning to her cousin. They finally had a chance to speak alone without anyone overhearing.
“Are you and Randolph headed to London?”
Rachel nodded as she settled into her chair by the fire. “Yes, we have a few dinners to attend, and then we return to Sussex. We don’t like the children to be in the city for too long. There’s so much pressure to grow up there. In the country, they can chase dogs down the lane and ride horses and swim in the pond behind the house.”
“Emma seems determined to grow up,” Alex observed.
Her cousin nodded, her eyes sad. “She is, takes after me too much I think, just as Griffin is so like Randolph, always getting into scrapes.”
They both sipped their sherry, the grandfather clock in the corner ticking away into the silence. Alex had to speak to her, to get advice from one of the few people aside from Perdita whom she trusted.
“I’m so glad you came, Rachel. Truly,” Alex whispered, her voice suddenly catching.
“Alex, dear, what’s the matter?” Her cousin rose from her chair and came to her, hugging her.
“I’m afraid I’ve been very silly—very silly indeed. I wish you hadn’t left…”
Rachel had helped her pick up the pieces of her heart when Marshall had married someone else.
“What have you done that is silly?” Rachel asked, her eyes full of worry.
“It’s Ambrose—I mean, Mr. Worthing. I’m afraid I’ve l let him become too close to me.” She wasn’t sure how to say it, that she’d been too free with her body and her desires.
“I see,” Rachel replied. There was no judgment in her face, but rather a deep understanding.
“I’m afraid I’ll always be alone, that this might be the one chance I have to know what life and love are before he goes back to London. Is that terrible of me?”
Her cousin’s green eyes were soft, like summer grass covered in a morning fog.
“No, it isn’t terrible. You have every r
ight to want to know the joys of being in love and expressing that love, but you must take care. If you were to get in the family way, it would be…” She trailed off, but Alex understood.
It would be the end of the already small social life that she had in Lothbrook. If she had a babe, she would want to keep it, which meant she would not be able to stay in a town that knew the truth of her disgrace. She would be exiled to some distant part of the country with relatives she barely knew, in a town with no friends.
“Have you and Mr. Worthing been fully intimate?”
Alex shook her head. They had come close, but not yet.
Her cousin pursed her lips before speaking again. “If you do wish for full intimacy, you must demand that he take care. He should know what that means. There are things he could do to prevent you from being with child.”
“I feel so trapped, Rachel,” she confessed. “I avoid London because of Marshall, and yet I don’t feel I can breathe here sometimes. I just want…some small measure of happiness. Is that so wrong?” She wanted to confess about the wager in the betting books and that she was planning to flee to London to escape Lord Darlington, but something made her hold that inside. She didn’t want to worry Rachel, even though she valued her cousin’s counsel.
“No, of course not. Perhaps Mr. Worthing will be the answer. I see the way he looks at you, and I don’t believe you should take his interest so lightly. He let your nephew throw peas in his face. That tells me much of what sort of man he is and that he will endure much to be with you.”
Alex was too afraid to hope her cousin was right. She’d let a man break her heart once before, and it had almost destroyed her. Could she let that happen again? Was it already too late?
Chapter 10
Long after the household had settled into their beds for the night, Alex lay awake in her bed, watching the firelight from her small hearth create shadows on the baroque red satin- covered walls. The evening had turned chilly, and the house was hushed save for the occasional soft sound that echoed down the corridor. She listened to the house creak and shift as night wore on, and at last, she heard the sound she hoped for and yet dreaded. Light steps outside her door. The twist of the door handle…
She sat up and watched the door open as Ambrose slipped into her chamber. The sound of the door closing was quiet, but it seemed to echo through the room. For a long moment, he simply stood there, staring at her, his handsome features a mysterious mask. She could almost feel his gaze on her, the focus and intensity of his eyes, and it made her shiver.
Her heart pounded and she clutched her coverlet to her chest, strangely afraid, but not of him. She was going to take that last step to ruination tonight. She was going to let him come to her bed. It was usual to be a little frightened, wasn’t it? She knew what to expect; she’d had her mother explain the particulars of men and women coming together during her first season. Since then she’d heard enough of other ladies whispering, not to mention that encounter in the gardens today had been a thorough education.
“Alex,” he murmured, the firelight making his eyes glow, and her name was a quiet question.
It warmed her to know he wouldn’t push her, wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t wish. The hungry light in his eyes was tempered with gentleness, a preparedness to leave if she told him to. That made all the difference in the world, because she did want him, desperately, possibly even more than he wanted her.
“Lock the door behind you,” she whispered, her body suddenly tense. She was doing this, she was going to become a ruined woman, but no one would know what they’d do tonight. Just the two of them…in the quiet…in the dark. An excited shiver rippled through her.
He latched the door and walked over to the bed. He unbuttoned his vest slowly, and she watched his long, elegant fingers slipping buttons through their slits before he shrugged the finely embroidered waistcoat to the floor. She glanced down at it, studying the firelight making the gold threading that formed a pair of stags in the woods glow. It was beautiful, like him. Many men would have patterns sewn into their clothes, but he’d chosen a scene, two bucks facing each other across a stretch of woods completed in varying tones of silver and gold.
“I…” She slid to the edge of the bed, her nerves on edge and her stomach assailed with fluttering butterflies. She reached up to help him pull his shirt out of his buckskin trousers as he lifted it over his head, baring his chest. Her palms settled on his skin, tentative at first. He watched her, unspeaking, unmoving as she trailed her fingers over his body. It was fascinating to touch a man’s bare chest, feel the power of his muscles, and explore his dusky nipples. The hollow of his throat…and the dark line of hair that trailed from his navel down to below his trousers. She reached for the front of his pants.
“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready.” He laid his hands over hers against his trousers, stilling their trembling. She peeped up at him through her gold-brown lashes.
“That’s not what a rake is supposed to say to a woman’s he’s planning to deflower.”
Ambrose gazed down at her, no smile, no charm, just sincerity. “This isn’t about that. I don’t want it to be just…I don’t want to be just some rake to you. I just want it to be you and me here in this bed tonight. No games, no lies, no thoughts of tomorrow.” He seemed so serious, so earnest that she believed him.
“Just us?”
He nodded and lifted his hands to cup her face so he could lean down and kiss her. It was a wicked kiss with a slip of tongue. Yet he made it a kiss full of sweetness. He dropped his hands, still kissing her. She reached for the front of his trousers again. He shed his pants, and she scooted back on the bed as he climbed in with her. Her bed wasn’t small, but sharing it with someone—a very big, masculine someone—made it nice, cozy.
Ambrose leaned over her, smiling as he brushed her hair back from her face. He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze soft and his sensual mouth curved in a tender smile. Everything inside her stilled as she brushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled back at him. This was right—this felt wonderful. Just the two of them in her bed, the fire crackling and their quiet shared breaths as they were readying to embark on a journey that seemed written in their hearts long before they’d ever shared that first waltz.
Ambrose licked his lips. “Lord, you are beautiful. Truly beautiful.”
“Would you help me out of my nightgown?” she asked.
He grinned as he let her sit up a little, and they pulled her long white nightgown up and away. It floated to the floor in a heap of white lace. Alex held her breath as she sat completely bare before him. Her breasts rose and fell with her beating heart, and she tensed as he cupped one breast. His large hand was gentle as he lifted it and brushed the pad of his thumb over one peak. It felt exquisite, his hands exploring her.
“Lie back for me,” he encouraged as she slid down on the bed. “We must be quiet so as not to be overhead.”
He leaned over her again, kissing her lips, her chin, and her throat. His mouth moved lower, to her collarbone, and then he finally nuzzled one breast before he took her nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The erotic tug went straight to her womb, making her womb clench and her thighs quiver. She reacted instinctively, sliding her fingers through his hair, gripping his head as he teased her breast, and then he lifted his head, flashing her a grin as he slid farther down her body, parting her thighs. Alex tried to close her legs, but he used his hands to keep them braced apart. He placed more soft hot kisses to her lower belly, the top of her mound, and—
“Oh!” She inhaled sharply as he licked her slick folds. The rasping feel of his tongue in such a sensitive secret place was too much. Her body quivered with spasms, like an arrow unleashed from a tight bowstring. She let go, and a climax rolled through her. His mouth felt infinitely more sinful than his fingers had.
“Like that, do you?” he teased softly.
“Yes…very much.” She wriggled languidly as he settled into the cradle of he
r thighs.
“Good, I did as well. Your taste is exquisite.” He licked his lips again, and then he shifted his body, and she felt his hard shaft nudge her. Here it was—the moment that would change her life forever, and possibly his, she hoped. There could be no going back, and it was frightening, but her desire to be with him like this outweighed that fear. Their eyes sought each other’s, and she watched a rapid play of emotions she couldn’t quite recognize flit across his face.
Ambrose didn’t ask for her permission, but he waited, their gazes locked. She gave him a tiny nod. He kissed her greedily, his lips rough, while the rest of him was infinitely tender. He pushed into her, stretching her. There was a twist, a hard thrust, and a sharp inner pain. Alex whimpered and then bit his lip, but he didn’t stop kissing her. Long moments later, they began to move, their bodies sliding in the dark, the sheets falling to their hips as Ambrose made love to her.
Each time he entered her, the glorious fullness was overwhelming, but she hungered for it again and again. Her nails dug into his back and his shoulders as she clung to him. He rode her slowly at first, their bodies seeking a natural rhythm that she made quicker by using her hips to drag him deeper into her. Her breathing was shallow, and she felt her body racing faster, higher, toward some infinite height of true pleasure. Ambrose’s gaze was hungry and his lips ravenous as he kissed every inch of her upper body. His hips jerked harder, and she clenched down around him inside her.
When he growled low, the sound vibrated through her and it was too much, too good. He pounded faster. The sound of their slick bodies coming together and their ragged breaths made her fall off the edge. Another climax exploded through her, and her vision was spotted with white stars. He cried out, and she kissed him to silence the sound as he came apart above her. In that moment, she knew she loved him. How could she not? The vulnerable truth of his own emotions was shining in his eyes as he found his pleasure with her.