To Love a Libertine

by LeFey, Liana

  She stilled in his arms, and he watched her azure eyes begin to darken.

  A painful sort of galloping began inside his chest, as if his heart had lost its rhythm and was clumsily trying to regain it. Sabrina had certainly never looked at him thus. He’d thought her fair, but her beauty paled in comparison with Eden’s when she looked at him this way.

  The lush pink bow of her lips was an enticement he couldn’t resist. Bending, he brushed those perfect petals ever so gently, breathing in her faint murmur of objection. “Tell me I have not done irreparable damage to the rapport we’d begun to build,” he whispered against the corner of her mouth. “Tell me there is still a chance, Eden. All I ask is for one more chance. I swear I will not disappoint you.”

  A tiny, incoherent sound escaped her. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard, and his entire body went taut in response even as hers softened. Her surrender was answer enough. Bending, he captured her mouth, tasting her full, ripe lips as he’d wanted to the moment he’d first seen her. He caressed the crease between them with the tip of his tongue, loosening his grip to press a hand into the small of her back.

  She sighed at the silent command, allowing him to pillage for a moment the sweetness of her mouth. When she leaned against him fully, his cock swelled to new thickness. It strained against the cloth of his breeches with a desperation he’d not felt since he was a stripling.

  Panic gripped him. With great effort, he withdrew, praying he had not frightened her. “Please accept my humblest apology if I have in any way offended you,” he said, his voice unsteady as he stepped back a pace. God help him, he’d never been so aroused. Had he been alone, he would have groaned aloud. “You have my solemn vow that I shan’t kiss you again unless you grant me express permission.”

  It was the first time in his life he’d ever apologized for kissing a woman.

  “I am as much to blame,” she answered at last, her voice shaking just as much as his. “I allowed myself to—”

  “I wish to court you,” Percy blurted, shocking them both. He had not intended to move with such swiftness, but an overpowering need to stake his claim on her had overruled all good sense.

  “But we have only just met,” she protested, casting a wary glance in the direction of the orchard path. Lowering her voice, she continued, “Courtship is hardly required when we may satisfy our curiosity through less formal means.” Her face reddened when he didn’t reply at once. “I meant only that we may learn about each other by engaging in simple conversation.”

  “What I feel for you is more than mere curiosity,” he told her with an awkward smile. “I wish my intentions made clear not just to you but to everyone. Given what you said earlier, I—”

  “I know what I said,” she interrupted, a frantic look entering her eyes. “But I’m sure there must be another way to achieve the same end without putting us both in danger of an ill-suited match.”

  “Do you truly think us ill suited?”

  “I don’t know! What if—what if we fail to develop a mutual understanding based on like desires?”

  “I desire you, Eden,” he grated, stepping close again. “You cannot tell me you don’t desire me in return.” He was gratified to hear her breath catch.

  “I will admit to feeling…something,” she confessed, the tips of her ears turning scarlet. “But there are other considerations which must take precedence. What of compatibility? What of love? You cannot possibly claim such a strong sentiment this early in our acquaintance.”

  “I don’t,” he stated with an unexpected twinge of regret. “However, I do believe what exists between us merits further and serious exploration. Formal courtship will afford us ample opportunities to be certain we make the right decision either for or against a permanent union. If at any time either of us concludes it to be unfeasible, we may agree to tell the other and go our separate ways with no harm done.”

  He watched her waver on the brink of refusal.

  “Everyone will think me mad,” she sputtered. “My stepmother will be fit for Bedlam. Papa will not know what to think. It is too soon.”

  He cupped her face between his palms. “Kiss me again, Eden, and then tell me it is too soon.”

  Chapter Six

  His roughened voice was a lion’s purr, both dangerous and seductive. Swaying toward him, she met his lips without care for caution or propriety.

  Skin, bone, and sinew—all resonated to the touch of his mouth against hers. With every moment that passed, it intensified until the thrumming in her ears grew deafening. As a butterfly sips at a flower, he withdrew from her lips only to revisit them again.

  He stole the sigh of want from her and pulled her closer. When had his hands left her face? The fleeting thought was gone as the liquid heat pooling at the base of her spine spilled over and gathered at the juncture of her thighs to sweep down the backs of her legs. A desperate, unspeakable longing to press herself against him overtook her.

  A tremor shook him as she did so. Remotely, she registered an uncomfortable lump against her belly, but chose to ignore it in favor of the sensations running riot through her. A dull ache had begun to throb down low, accompanied by a strange sense of emptiness. It was like hunger, only more acute and infinitely more difficult to assuage.

  Obeying her body’s demands, her hands rose from where she braced them on his chest to draw his head down and deepen the contact between them at every point possible. Her breath caught as her breasts were crushed against the hardness of his chest, as something that wasn’t quite pain streaked down to settle in the secret place between her legs. She wriggled, stretching upward and resettling herself against the hard lump below.

  With an agonized groan, he molded her body against his own and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  All the air in her lungs seemed to vanish. Head spinning, she closed her eyes and steadied herself for a moment, clinging to him in shuddering stillness, never wanting it to end.

  It wasn’t enough.

  “I consent,” the words tumbled out. Clutching his hair, she reunited their lips again, giving back in full measure what she’d taken. Nothing mattered but this, this heady rush of pleasure. “I consent,” she again whispered against his mouth.

  She felt him smile just before he gently pulled back. “You will have no regrets, Eden,” he murmured.

  Already she was regretting having let him up for air.

  “I’ll speak with your father tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? “Should we not—” His hand massaged the small of her back, turning the flesh there molten. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to concentrate. “Should we not go on as we are for a little while longer, at least?”

  “I see no point in delaying the inevitable.” The desire in his dark eyes held her prisoner. “To do so would only invite trouble. Eden, though you may not know it, what we have just now experienced is not very common.”

  She knew it—this was not her first kiss. One had been barely tolerable. The other had elicited overwhelming revulsion. None but his had caused this madness of want.

  “This kind of desire only grows more potent with time,” he said with surety. “An official courtship will protect you from harmful gossip.”

  He was right. If anyone caught them in a compromising situation—like the one she was in at the moment, standing here in his arms no doubt looking thoroughly ravished—she’d be well and truly ruined. No amount of denial or claims of innocence would avail her. Courtship was a shield against being labeled a woman of loose morals.

  “Very well. I’ll prepare him as best I can.” Papa would be shocked at how quickly it had happened. Shyness overtook her, and she suddenly couldn’t bear to meet Tavistoke’s gaze. “We had better rejoin the others.”

  Her thoughts raced as they made their way back to the orchard gate. Panic warred with triumph. What had possessed her to allow him to take such liberties? To enter into an understanding with a man she hardly knew? A man she’d suspected only moments before of being
in love with another woman?

  A naughty little voice inside whispered he’d denied being in love with Lady Montgomery. She wanted to believe him. That little voice also whispered she was as guilty of giving in to desire as any hedonistic wanton.

  Lust. That was what had swayed her in the end.

  Every beat of her heart was echoed by a corresponding throb between her legs, where everything felt swollen and damp. Her breasts ached in such a way as to make her acutely aware of them. In fact, her entire body seemed painfully awake. Never before had she been in such a state. It both fascinated and frightened her.

  As for the man who’d elicited this turbulent reaction, she knew only that she wanted him to do it again. But propriety dictated she never indulge in such thoughts and especially not act upon them.

  One step and I could be in his arms again…

  Even in her inexperience, Eden knew she’d be unable to stop the natural progression from kissing to…whatever it was unmarried people did to bring about a scandal. She had to resist. If she were to give in to the sinful urgings of her body, he would think her a light-skirts and lose interest.

  Part of an old rhyme she’d heard in the powder room during her debut Season popped into her thoughts:

  Down the primrose path doth trip the lightly winged feet

  Of maids and ladies of morals loose whose favor cads do treat

  Who with their lovers bold do dare to taste forbidden fruit

  Without the shield and virtue of an earnest gentleman’s suit

  Eden barely refrained from bursting into giggles. Never had the primrose path tempted her until today! Fortunately for her, her “bold lover” seemed determined to walk the straight and narrow. Her gaze slid over him. She was to be courted, truly courted, by none other than the infamous Lord Percival Falloure, Marquess of Tavistoke—The Terror of the Ton. Percy.

  Logic quashed her giddy joy. Wait until he proves himself by speaking with Papa.

  Although it was tempting, she couldn’t afford to abandon all sense. Everything she’d dreamed of was happening far too quickly and easily. She’d wait until tomorrow before telling anyone anything, including Papa and her stepmother.

  If he didn’t show up, she would know it was a nasty trick—doubtless courtesy of Lord Wells. Even if Percy came and spoke with Papa, she would still proceed with caution. He’d said their reaction to each other was uncommon. She could accept that explanation for herself, but not him.

  Men were always sniffing about, looking for ways to corrupt a female—as both her mother and stepmother had said on many occasions. How could she be certain he wasn’t lying to her just to gain her cooperation? There had to be a way to know for sure.

  As for his tale concerning Lady Montgomery, Eden wanted to believe him, but wanted even more to hear a full explanation of what had happened. Even if she asked, could she trust his version of it?

  Tea. Tomorrow. With Lady Montgomery.

  “You cannot come tomorrow!” she gasped, stopping them just before they stepped onto the lakeside path. “Lady Montgomery invited me to tea tomorrow.”

  “Why should that—”

  “My stepmother will wish to accompany me, and I doubt very much she’ll be in any mood to receive you immediately following our return.”

  “Saturday, then.”

  She shook her head. “We are to attend a party Saturday. Papa will likely not accompany us, but he will doubtless wish to consult with both my stepmother and me when you speak with him.”

  “Very well.” Though he agreed, his frustration was clear. “As the following day is Sunday, I shall call midday on Monday.”

  “Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Though she’d spoken true, she suspected he thought her stalling for time. In a way, she was both relieved and distraught by the delay. It would give her time to think—but it would also give him time to think.

  …

  True to his word, Percy made himself her attentive shadow for the remainder of the afternoon. Together they lounged in the shade overlooked by their stern chaperone. He read to Eden from Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels between visits from friends who idled by to chat and pick at the feast he’d brought.

  His display of hospitality was deliberately lavish, a pointed reminder to Lady Catherine of his wealth and stature. There was cold roast beef, lamb, duck, and ham. There were veal, pigeon, and even mince pies, as well as several casks of ale in addition to an assortment of sweets to delight the palate of any person.

  He made certain never to venture forth without Eden by his side. By the end of the event, he was pleased to see chins had begun to noticeably wag.

  Sitting across from Eden and Lady Catherine on the way back to their London residence, he could feel the animosity emanating from the older woman. Her look was a baleful glare, her mouth a hard, thin slash above her pugnacious chin. He didn’t understand it. He’d been the soul of courtesy the entire afternoon.

  “Thank you for inviting us, Lord Tavistoke,” Eden said, shattering the fragile silence. “I did so enjoy the event.”

  “The pleasure was and is all mine.” He conjured up a smile for her. “In fact, I should very much like leave to call on you again, Miss Lowther.”

  “I would be honored,” she responded quickly. “I am, as you know, already obligated elsewhere tomorrow afternoon and we are attending Lady Torrington’s dinner party in the evening. But I shall be at home Monday of next week. Perhaps you could join us then?”

  “I shall be delighted. Additionally, I shall be attending the Sheffield ball next Thursday—the Sheffields are personal friends,” he added quickly, before Lady Catherine could do more than open her mouth. “I should be honored to escort you, provided another gentleman has not already been granted the privilege.”

  “I am unobligated and would very much enjoy your company again,” answered Eden. “Now that I’m privy to the happy news Lord and Lady Montgomery shared with us this afternoon, I shall be especially pleased to attend.”

  At once he saw where she was leading. What a clever puss! “Happy news, indeed,” he said, grinning. “Perhaps this one will be the boy Monty has been wishing for. Not that my goddaughter isn’t the apple of his and everyone else’s eye, but a man likes to see his continuity in this world assured in his heir. Should the babe indeed be male, we’ll no doubt hear his father crow all the way to Charing Cross.”

  “Lady Montgomery is expecting a child?” Lady Catherine cut in, her eyes sharp with interest.

  Percy blinked as though he’d forgotten her presence altogether and had only just now noticed her sitting there. “She is indeed. But forgive me, I should not have said anything.”

  “The fault is mine,” Eden jumped in, looking adequately contrite. “Without thought, I mentioned it out of turn. You must promise not to say a word to anyone,” she implored her stepmother. “I told Lady Montgomery I would keep her secret, as she wishes to wait until the ball to make it publicly known.”

  Clever indeed. Percy watched as Lady Catherine wrestled with her dislike of him, weighing it against this clear opportunity to advance Eden. First a marquess—his rank counted for something even if his name was thoroughly tarnished—and now a countess. Her stepdaughter was rising in eminence, her circle broadening to include more influential people, and it was because of his interest. Would she dare risking his displeasure with a refusal?

  Just then, Eden clapped a hand to her mouth and let out a muffled moan. “Oh, dear! In my excitement, I forgot to tell you that Lady Montgomery has also asked me to tea with her tomorrow. You are, of course, invited,” she told her stepmother.

  A gusty sigh erupted from Lady Catherine’s frowning mouth. It carried a distinct note of surrender. “Nothing would delight me more.” Her sour tone belied the statement. “As for the Sheffield ball…” She fixed him with a gimlet stare. “We would again be glad of your company.”

  Beside her, Eden turned to look out of the window—but not before Percy caught a triumphant smile on her lips.
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br />   Immediately upon arrival at their residence, Lady Catherine briskly thanked him and excused herself on the grounds of a brewing headache. As Sir Geoffrey Lowther was not at home, there was no possibility of his remaining—no accident, he was sure. It was of no consequence.

  “Miss Lowther, it has been a true pleasure.” He bowed deeply before her. “I wish you a pleasant evening and look forward to seeing you again soon.”

  Their eyes met as she curtsied, her blue ones full of wry amusement. She was doubtless in store for a long diatribe the moment her stepmother got her behind closed doors. “Likewise,” she replied softly.

  “Eden, come,” fussed Lady Catherine. “The air grows colder by the minute. You’ve been out of doors quite enough for one day. I’ll not have you catching a chill.”

  Casting him one last reluctant look, Eden dutifully followed. He waited until the front door shut behind her before turning away.

  He looked at his watch. “Take me to Hennell’s,” he instructed his driver. There was just enough time to see about a promissory token of affection. When Monday came, he meant to be prepared.

  The sun was just setting by the time he reached home, well satisfied with his day’s work. As he was debarking, he noticed his neighbor, Will Hogarth, coming out. He signaled his driver to wait. “Will, my friend!” he called with a smile. “How is it with you this evening?”

  Coming over, Will clasped hands with him. “Very bad, I’m afraid. Very bad, indeed. Jackanapes that he is, Morris has declined the work for which he commissioned my services. The blackguard had the impertinence to claim he was misled into believing me a painter when in fact I’m an engraver by trade. On such grounds has he refused to pay my fee, though anyone can see my work is exemplary. You yourself expressed great admiration for the piece. I intend to take the matter before the court and see his decision overturned.”

  Percy frowned at his friend’s distress. “Might I be of assistance to you in the pursuit of justice? I have many friendly connections at Westminster.”