by Gill, Tamara
Chapter Eight
The Moncroft ball was indeed a crush. People milled in every available space of which there was little in the undersized room. Suzanna and Victoria greeted the Countess and joined the throng. Few were recognizable due to the masks and dominos covering their faces and evening wear.
Suzanna looked about the ballroom in awe. Guests disguised in an array of masks—some plain and others decorated with gems–circulated and danced with carefree abandon. Beads, silk, and jewels sparkled in the candlelit room, giving the night an air of mystery and decadence.
Excitement thrummed in her blood. Never had she been to such an event. And as much as she wished to deny her feelings, Suzanna was excited about her forthcoming waltz with Lord Danning. To have his arms about her, pulling her close to his strong physique was enough to make this evening marvellous. Even unforgettable.
“It will be impossible to know to whom we are talking. I cannot even make out some of the women’s hair colour under their wigs, not to mention their faces under the masks,” Victoria said, looking about.
Suzanna clasped Victoria’s arm and pulled her toward an area of the room that looked to afford more space. “Did Mr. Swinson tell you what he planned to wear this eve? He is to attend, I assume?”
“Yes,” Victoria said, stopping a footman and taking two glasses of champagne. “But he did not tell me what mask he would wear.”
“Do you like him, Victoria?” Suzanna asked. Not that she really wanted to hear the answer, should it be yes. Poor Henry would be devastated should he lose the affection of Victoria. But as her friend, she owed Victoria the opportunity to openly share her feelings.
“I do. Of course, I do. He is pleasant and always jovial.” Victoria paused, a slight frown marring her brow. “He is certainly a favourite with Papa.”
Suzanna nodded. “I should imagine so.”
“Between you and me, Suzanna, I do believe Papa would like me to marry him. Not that I will, of course,” she hastened to add. “But Mr. Swinson, for all his American ways, is actually the Earl of Manning’s heir—a distant cousin, twice removed; but still the heir when all is told.”
It was all Suzanna could do to hold the lump at bay in her throat over her friend’s disclosure. Henry would lose this battle just as she lost the battle to stop being clumsy at the age of eighteen. Poor Henry, he would be devastated.
A lengthy silence settled between them; one Suzanna found difficult to breach.
Finally Victoria looked at her. “Should Mr. Swinson ask for my hand, the answer will be not to his liking or my father’s, Suzanna.”
Suzanna blinked and met her friend’s gaze, the note of conviction in Victoria’s voice leaving no room for doubt of her sincerity. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear such news, even if it is at the expense of Mr. Swinson and your father’s happiness.” She clasped Victoria’s hand. “Does this mean should Henry ask for your hand in marriage you would be in agreement? That one day will I not only be able to call you my friend but my sister?”
“Yes it does,” Victoria replied, “if Henry should ever ask. Now talking of happiness, I do believe Lord Danning is heading our way.”
All the air expelled from Suzanna’s lungs when Lord Danning, dressed in a double-breasted coat with two tails stalked toward them, his heavy-lidded eyes fixed on one person.
Her.
Suzanna swallowed and then swallowed again when he towered before them. Tall and without a mask, his attention was obvious to any who cared to notice. Victoria, having such impeccable manners, politely bade good evening to his lordship, then walked away.
Unable to deny herself, Suzanna curtsied and took the opportunity to ogle his lordship’s muscular legs, which filled his skin-tight breeches very well. The peculiar sensation of desire shot to her lower abdomen. No matter how much she tried to deny it, Suzanna was hopelessly attracted to him.
He leaned close. “You are the epitome of beauty this eve, Miss March.” His whispered words sent a shiver of delight down her spine. “May I have this dance?”
Suzanna nodded, the ability to speak having vanished. His warm, gloved hand clasped hers, and he led them onto the floor. Other guests milled about them, readying themselves for the forthcoming waltz.
It took all Suzanna’s will not to swoon when his lordship’s arm settled about her waist. She caught the hint of sandalwood—an earthy, rich scent—as he pulled her against him. His chest was solid, his arms strong, yet his hands were gentle as they held her.
She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised you knew me, Lord Danning? My Egyptian costume fooled even my brother.” She smiled in the hope it would mask her nerves. He was an excellent dancer, his steps sure and capable as they floated around the room.
“I would know you anywhere, Suzanna,” he said, leaning devilishly close, his breath tickling her ear. Suzanna turned and found her mouth deliciously close to his. Their gazes collided and locked. Time seemed to stop.
“I do not recall giving you leave to use my given name, my lord?”
“Ahh, but you did, remember? In the park yesterday,” he said. “So may I, Suzanna? I promise to return the favour and allow you to call me Royce when we’re in private.”
Lord Danning’s—Royce’s—gaze settled on her lips. He was so close. So close, Suzanna had only to lean forward and their mouths would meet. Memories of his ardent, seductive kiss had her yearning for another. Another taste of sin.
A shrill laugh in the room brought them both to their senses. Lord Danning leaned back and smiled before settling them once again at a more appropriate distance.
“You make me forget I’m a gentleman, Suzanna.” He sighed. “You do realize before this evening is over I’m going to thoroughly kiss you again.”
Suzanna chuckled and raised her brow at the surety in his voice. “Really, Royce? And when, pray tell, will you have the opportunity to do so? I shall not be venturing to the terrace with you this evening, and you cannot kiss me here.”
“I want to kiss you. Here and now.”
Suzanna wanted it, too. Just the thought of engaging in such a naughty escapade before the uppity ton sent her rebellious side to sing. “Well you cannot. I forbid it.” She smiled and allowed herself to relax and enjoy the dance. At times, their gazes would collide and the dizzying, wonderful roll in her belly would occur. But, like all good things, the dance came to an end.
Royce, the perfect gentleman, escorted her to a quiet corner within sight of the dowager countess and her aunt Agnes, and sought out a beverage for them both. Suzanna watched him retreat and cursed the coat tails on his suit that obstructed her view.
***
Royce watched Suzanna sip her mulled wine. Her lips, supple and red, kissed the glass rim, and his body tightened with need. Her unique emerald eyes took in the festivities before them, the slightest smile playing upon her lips.
He marvelled at the fact Suzanna had not the slightest conception of what a beauty she was. Last season, had he had more control of his temper, he could have proven his regard for her before she fled to Paris. Now with every word he spoke, Suzanna scrutinized, and wondered if he were being honest.
He knew she wondered when he would hurt her feelings again.
Yet he played no game, other than making her his wife. With every moment he spent in her presence Royce wished for more. He wanted her under his protection and his to hold for as long as time would give them. He wanted her to be the woman to bear his children and sleep beside him for the next fifty years, if they were so fortunate.
Royce took a calming breath. To demonstrate his love to Suzanna would prove difficult. His reputation as a rake, his past treatment, and his dislike of her brother were not obstructions easily overcome.
Nor was the fact he needed a wealthy bride and soon.
He paused. Love? Did he love her? He smiled when she laughed at something taking place on the ballroom floor. An ache settled in his chest that could only mean one thing. He did indeed love this woman. Wante
d her with a need that at times scared and excited him, but also made him complete.
“Suzanna, if you’re not already engaged, may I have the supper waltz?”
She looked at him in shock before blinking, and concealing her surprise. “Two waltzes in one night, my lord? You will create talk.”
Royce took delight in her smile and wished he could always create such a reaction from her. “Let the ton talk; they are nothing to me, whereas you, Miss March are fast becoming everything.”
“You flatter me, my lord.”
“If you like,” he said enjoying the rosy hue that settled on her cheeks. He stepped close and slipping his hand within the folds of her domino, clasped her hand. “I’ll flatter and spoil you for all time if you’d only give me a second chance, Miss March.”
Her hand was delicate and warm. His thumb slid over her silk glove, eliciting a tremor that ran directly into his heart. He noted her increased breathing and met her gaze. “Please follow me, and allow me to kiss you once this night.”
“You are too bold, my lord.” Suzanna took a sip of her wine and turned away.
“No amount of drink will calm your nerves, my dear. The attraction between us cannot be denied.” He paused. “Please, Suzanna.” He would beg should he have to. It was either that or throw her over his shoulder like a ruffian and carry her out of the room against her will.
She made an indelicate sound of protest and then nodded. Royce bowed and made his way toward the supper room doors. If memory served him correctly, a door within the room led to a passage that ran the length of the ballroom. At the supper room doors, he gazed over his shoulder and noted Suzanna following him at a discreet distance.
As he made the supper room threshold, he gazed over his shoulder and hesitated as Suzanna made her way toward him. Once she made the room, he motioned her to follow him into the passage beyond.
The air in the passage, cooler than in the ballroom, did nothing to dampen his desire to taste her again.
“I’m sure someone has seen our less-than-discreet disappearance, my lord.”
“Royce. And you are well hidden under the mask and domino should they have noticed. Your escape into my waiting embrace will be our little secret, Suzanna.” He pulled her into a darkened room. It smelt of cleaning oils and pine. Suzanna cautiously made her way forward then halted before a lady’s writing desk. She turned toward him. Royce twisted the lock on the door, the snap of bolts loud as they slid into place. Suzanna eyed him warily. He stalked toward her and stopped when her hand settled on his chest.
“Royce, I should not be here embarking on such scandalous behaviour.” She stepped past him, and he clasped her arm.
“Suzanna, I will not ruin you if that is your fear.” He frowned and clasped her face with his hands. Her skin was soft, her hair smelled of jasmine. Unable to wait a moment longer to gaze upon her beauty, he untied the mask. The silk ribbon fell away from her chin, and Royce allowed the mask to fall on the desk behind her.
“I’m in love with you, Suzanna March. In truth, I do believe I fell in love with you the day I saw you in that ghastly frilly gown at your coming-out last season.”
He smiled at her shock and kissed her. His body heated at her ardent response to his chaste embrace and the need within his soul roared.
Royce pulled back and waited for her to look at him. He enjoyed seeing her eyes cloudy with desire. “I wish for you to trust me, Suzanna. I have been termed a rake and a scoundrel, but I have never dallied with an innocent. I wish to marry you, honour you for all of our lives, and have children with you. Please give me a chance to prove myself worthy of your love.”
“Oh, Royce.” Suzanna swallowed the obscenely large lump wedged in her throat. Did he truly mean what he said? Did he speak the truth, or was he merely saying such things to have his way with her?
“I don’t know what to say. I…”
“Say you’ll marry me and make me the happiest man in London.”
Royce kissed her again and Suzanna lost all line of thought. Heaven above, his kisses, no matter how quick, were enough to befuddle her senseless. And at this moment she truly needed to keep her wits about her.
“My brother does not approve of you and I do not know if I can trust you.” As much as it pained her to see his disappointment, she truly did not. He had hurt her so last year when she thought they were forming a friendship. Henry kept terming him a fortune hunter. She prayed her brother was wrong.
“May I think over your proposal, my lord?”
He nodded. “Call me Royce in private please, Suzanna. And of course you may take your time. I’ll not rush your decision.”
Suzanna stilled when he met her gaze, and the heat that radiated from his eyes sent her skin to burn. “May the fine lady grant her humblest servant a kiss now?”
“I believe she will.” When his lips touched hers Suzanna leaned into his warmth and nestled against his chest. His heart beat fast beneath the many folds of clothing, and oddly, Suzanna had the urge to remove them. To feel his skin, taste, and kiss him all over.
Heat bloomed on her face, and she was thankful Royce had his eyes closed. She was becoming scandalous with her wayward thoughts. Every time his lips sought hers and his hands touched her flesh, it left her longing for more, and strangely unsatisfied for something she could not name.
He pulled away and gazed at her. He ran his thumb against her cheeks, and the loss of his touch, his kiss, left a hollow feeling in her chest. Suzanna swallowed and couldn’t form one reason against denying him further liberties, to allow herself to love him in the most intimate of ways a woman could love a man. He loved her, had asked for her hand in marriage. Should she say yes? No one needed ever to know they’d slept together before they wed.
It was a risk, on more than one level. She could become enceinte. Such a scandal would force her to marry a man her brother loathed. It was all very confusing and becoming more so with every kiss Royce bestowed beneath her ear.
The wooden side of the desk touched her legs as he moved her back. Suzanna, as if she weighed no more than a leaf, was lifted upon it. Paper scrunched under her bottom. She bit her lip when Royce’s hand slid her silk gown above her knee. He stepped between her legs and for the first time in her life, the desire of a man lay against her own heated flesh.
His hardness did odd things to her body. She could not touch him enough. She wanted Royce to end the sweet ache between her thighs. She pulled him closer, wanting no space between them, and touched herself against his hardness. A sigh escaped as the contact went some way to dispel her need.
“We should stop before we cannot, Suzanna.”
Royce’s hunger-filled plea made her decision simple. She could not stop and did not want to miss lying with a man she loved and had loved all along, if she was truthful with herself. If she refused his offer of marriage, settled into a marriage of convenience with another gentleman and if by so doing she never again experienced this fire burning through her soul, her decision to stop would be forever regretted.
Suzanna refused to live with regret. She met his gaze and untied his cravat, hoping Royce did not notice her shaking fingers. He drew in a deep breath and Suzanna read in his pained visage his inner fight between desire and conscience.
“I think,” she said, sliding his coat from his shoulders and revelling in the taut muscles beneath his shirt, “it is too late to stop.”
Suzanna could not tell who undressed who more quickly; she only knew there was no time to waste. The gown she wore was no impediment to Royce’s competent hands, and was soon, along with her domino, tossed onto the already discarded clothing piled at his lordship’s feet. The small room enfolded them in warmth and her skin shivered in sensual awakening.
Royce came against her and pulled her close. The hair on his chest was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It tickled and tempted at the same time. Suzanna licked her lips while her gaze devoured his upper body. Her fingers traced his chest and then moved to touch the muscles
that descended like a ladder toward sin. A sin she fully intended to experience.
Suzanna murmured her delight when he laid her down upon the desk. He cupped her face and kissed her hard, his tongue demanding and tangling with her own. Suzanna welcomed his vigour and replied in turn as well as she could. Cool air caressed her silk-clad leg when he rucked her shift up to her waist. She rubbed her leg against his side and he growled.
She let her legs fall open and allowed him to settle between her thighs. Her skin burned, her body begging for something unknown but was soon to find out. Suzanna moaned when his hand cupped her most sensitive flesh and stroked.
Yes…
Royce was masterful at seduction, and without doubt, the rumours she had heard about town of his prowess as a lover were correct. Royce knew how to please a woman. He stroked her sex—soft, round movements tormenting her to madness. Suzanna opened her eyes when a low, seductive chuckle tickled her ear. She kissed him and allowed herself the delight of touching his back, the muscles flexing beneath his skin with his every movement.
“I must have you.” Royce shoved his breeches down and Suzanna’s mouth went dry. Never had she seen a man naked. Her lips curved. It was a marvellous sight to behold.
He came over her and she tensed as his manhood—hard, yet soft as velvet—pushed against her sex.
“I’ll be as gentle as I can, my love.”
Suzanna nodded and tried to relax. He eased into her; a strange and foreign pressure unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Then in one swift slide, he breached her maidenhead.
She gasped and swallowed a sob. A sharp pain tore through her sex and then settled to a light ache. Royce stilled.
Within moments, the pain dissipated and where he now laid a new type of ache began—an ache similar to before but more powerful and urgent. Excitement over the unknown sensations Royce was eliciting tickled across her skin. Then he shifted his weight and moved, and comprehension dawned.