by Maya Rodale
Susannah kept her distance, achingly aware of her breasts bound in yards of muslin beneath her shirt and waistcoat and jacket. But she didn’t break this kiss. The ale and the breeches had made her bold. Yes, she was playing the part of a young man by the name of Peregrine Xavier Grey. But a true part of her heart was definitely connecting with Frannie’s heart.
How could that be wrong?
The kissed continued, slow and tentative, each girl yielding and exploring new pleasures and sensations. This hazy wonder world was destroyed with the jarring sound of a door slamming open and banging loudly against the wall.
“What the bloody hell is going on here?” A large, hulking bald man growled.
Frannie and Susannah jumped apart.
“Angus! It’s nothing!” Frannie cried out. “Leave us alone.”
Angus? Oh, her brother! The two could not look less alike. One looked like an angel; the other like the Devil’s own henchman.
“You trollop, kissing a bloke in the corridor when you ought to be working! Or are ye working? You trollop!”
“Do not speak of her thusly!” Susannah shouted. She stepped in front of Frannie as if she could defend her from this horrible brute.
“Oh, Percy,” Frannie said with a heart-melting sigh that revealed no one ever stood up for Frannie.
“Oh, now you have a care for her honor, do ya? Better late than never, I reckon.”
“What is going on here?” Damien, striding into the scene with his boots pounding the floorboards.
“What’s it to you?” Angus asked, quite rudely.
“That’s my brother,” Damien said with a jerk of his head toward Susannah.
“Well, your brother was kissing my sister,” Angus said angrily.
“Is that so?” Damien murmured slowly, turning his head to have a look at the two girls. A long look in which a regretful smile teased at his lips.
“Saw it with my own eyes,” Angus carried on. “Then he had the nerve to defend her honor to me.”
“What a gentleman he is,” Damien remarked.
“It was just a kiss. Nothing to fuss over,” Frannie protested.
“It was your honor! Your innocence! I’ll have satisfaction,” Angus roared, pounding one thick, dirty fist into his fat open palm.
“Satisfaction?” Susannah queried, quite afraid she understood him.
“And I don’t reckon on waiting ’til dawn,” Angus growled, drawing a pistol from his coat pocket.
“Angus, no!” Frannie cried out, utter anguish in her voice and tears stinging her eyes. Susannah froze in her spot, betwixt Frannie and Angus’s pistol. “I’ll never forgive you for hurting Percy!”
It all happened so fast in an order Susannah wasn’t quite sure of, but the following things happened: she screamed like a girl, Damien lunged to put himself between the gun and the girls, a gunshot exploded, Frannie screamed like a girl and the lot of them fled from her angry, vengeful brother as he stumbled forward while trying to reload.
“Frannie, catch!” Damien said, tossing a sack of coins to her. “For the ale and the breakfast.”
“Percy will I see you again?!”
“If fate should wish it,” Susannah called out. Then she blew her a kiss before another shot rang out, chasing them on the way out of the tavern, their boots thundering on the wooden floors. In the mad dash to freedom and safety, Susannah tripped over her boots, which were just a bit too big. Damien lifted her up after she’d sprawled across the tavern floor.
In the process, she lost her hat. Again. A few wayward red curls escaped the queue she’d tied securely. With some trouble, Susannah mounted her mare and she and Damien took off at a canter down the road, dodging orange sellers, careening carriages, inattentive pedestrians and Angus’s bellowed threats and gunshots.
She wanted to holler with glee. So she did—she let out a very unladylike whoop! For that matter, it was also very ungentlemanly. But it was a sound of joy, of surviving a near-death experience. When Damien heard her and caught a glimpse of her smile, he burst out into happy laughter. It was not even luncheon and she’d had at least six adventures, including her first kiss and being challenged to a duel.
She suspected—quite rightly—that even more adventures awaited her.
Chapter 4: Naughty Girl
Damien just did not know what to think, what to say. Susannah kissed a girl.
Susannah—the torment of his childhood, the bane of his existence, the bride he’d been introduced to as a squalling infant, the girl he had fled—that Susannah had grown into a breathtaking woman.
Who had kissed another woman.
He’d heard of such things, of course. He’d even seen such things, of course. One did not go on a debauched tour of the continent for nearly a decade without encountering all manner of pleasure-seeking.
Some found it repellent and unnatural. But many did not, himself included. Especially when it was Susannah and a lovely girl like Frannie. He’d only caught a glimpse and he’d regret ’til his dying day that he hadn’t seen the whole thing.
Already, he was imagining the moment their lips touched and they pulled each other close into a passionate embrace and then—
“Watch where you’re going!!”
“Damien!” Susannah shouted. “How did you not see that that?”
He jerked his head up just in time to narrowly avoid colliding with an extraordinarily large and brightly painted carriage pulled by six huge white horses. Only a very distracted person would have missed it.
Damien did not know what to say to Susannah’s question, other than to confess what he’d been imagining. He didn’t want to shout about it in public. So he said nothing as they made their escape, dashing and jostling their way through the muddy, busy, bustling streets of London. He knew not where to go, just that it had to be somewhere that she might not cause trouble for at least an hour.
He considered taking her to White’s or Brooke’s but dismissed it—the risks were too…risky. Should she be discovered, she’d be ruined and/or they’d be married by the morning.
While that suited his purposes, it wasn’t quite the method he had in mind. He wanted them to enter into their marriage as two consenting adults.
Though at the moment he didn’t have much in mind at all except for Susannah. Kissing Frannie. Kissing a girl. Did she like it? Did she not like men at all? Would she do it again so he might watch? Was it terribly ungentlemanly for him to wish that?
He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think of much else. His horse led the way home. Not knowing what else to do and having some serious questions for Susannah, he didn’t change direction. He, idiotically, brought her to his bachelor apartments.
“What is this place?” she asked as she followed him up the stairs to his suite of rooms.
“This is where I live.”
He opened the door and they stepped into the small foyer, which led to a large drawing room. Double doors lay open, with a view of the large bed in the bedchamber.
“But what of Bedford House? It’s a lovely home and it is yours now.”
“It is in need of refurbishment.” It needed a woman’s touch. He needed to get the death out before he lived there. He wasn’t ready to take up residence yet, really. He felt that he did not deserve to live there. So he stayed here.
Susannah strolled around the rooms, which had been simply but finely furnished. Of all the things about her, he could only focus on her lips. Pink lips that had…
“Susannah did you really kiss Frannie?”
“I am surprised it took you so long to ask,” she replied with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“It’s not exactly a conversation to be had on horseback down London thoroughfares.”
“No? Two men, boasting of their conquests?” she asked, taking a seat on the settee.
“You can boast about it now. I’ll listen. Attentively,” he said, sitting down beside her and giving his complete consideration.
“It was soft. And sweet,�
�� she said dreamily. “It felt…pretty.”
Damien did not quite understand how something could feel pretty but he was willing to be instructed on the matter.
“Start at the beginning. Tell me every little detail.”
“You are such a rogue! Did you not say you resolved to amend your wicked ways? Would a gentleman inquire about the details of a lady’s kisses?”
“I think we’ve long since abandoned proper behavior for ladies and gentlemen for the day. Now tell me about this wicked kiss of yours, or will I have to torture you for the details?”
“It was in the hallway. The light was dim. She waited for me outside of the necessary. We were alone.”
“Go on.”
“She said I was nice. Well, she said Percy was nice. Percy was such a nice young lad. And I said she was nice. She really was the sweetest girl.”
“This is not what I imagined girl kisses to be,” Damien said, a bit disappointed.
“You imagined it?”
“Of course I did. Any man would. So you’re in the hall and we’ve determined that everyone is nice. And then what happened?”
Susannah sighed and gazed dreamily off in the distance as if she were reliving the kiss in her mind. He wasn’t sure what was more arousing: his imagining the kiss or hearing Susannah speak softly to him about it.
“I don’t know, just that our gazes locked. Her eyes were very blue. Her lips parted and my attention was drawn to her mouth.”
“Like this?”
He leaned in closer. His gaze fell to her lips, pink and plump and inviting.
“Mmm. And I knew it was inevitable,” she murmured. “Our lips, touching. I don’t know if she kissed me or I kissed her. I just knew her lips were so soft. She tasted sweet. Innocent. Soft and tender.”
“Like this?”
He brought his own mouth close to hers, almost close enough for a kiss. When she spoke, he felt her breath upon his lips.
“This…is far more…dangerous.”
“My innocence and sweetness are long gone, I fear,” Damien murmured, and for just a second he pressed his lips against hers. A kiss, almost.
“Mine aren’t,” Susannah said in a whisper. “I ran my fingers through her hair, like this.” She ran her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch, so gentle, so intimate.
“Like this?” Then instead of tugging her curls as he usually did, Damien sank his fingers into her luscious auburn hair. “Did you feel her?”
“We started to embrace, and stand close but then I was aware of her…” Susannah’s whisper tapered off.
“Breasts?” Damien asked, daring to touch hers with just his fingertips. Her breasts rose as she breathed deeply.
“Yes,” she exhaled and she didn’t know if she was answering the question or responding to his touch.
“Did you like kissing her, Susannah?”
“I did, Damien, I did,” she said in a rushed whisper.
“You naughty girl,” he murmured. But dear God how this naughty girl had him aroused. He was damn near about to ravish her on the settee, in the afternoon. They hadn’t really kissed yet. He’d barely touched her. But she’d bewitched him with her story and he was dying with anticipation of the possibilities. “And do you like this?”
Damien pushed her hair aside and pressed a hot kiss upon her neck.
“Yes,” she sighed. “Does that make me horribly wanton?”
“It makes you a queen of pleasure…but I suspect you don’t know all the pleasure you could have,” he murmured. Then he pulled back to look her in the eyes.
“We were interrupted. Me and Frannie.”
“You and I won’t be. I locked the door.” He thought of pushing the wardrobe in front of it for added assurance. For if they went further down this path, nothing would be able to tear him away from her. He was hard, so hard, already dying to feel her.
“Then show me all the pleasure I don’t know of, Damien,” she said and his cock throbbed at her words
“Are you sure?” He clasped her cheeks in his hands. Looked her in the eye. She had to be sure. He was going to marry her eventually. But once this started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Already restraining himself hurt.
“I’ve never been more certain. I want to know. And I want to learn from you. With you.” Her blue eyes locked with his. She pressed a fleeting kiss upon his lips.
“Whatever the queen wishes…”
Damien scooped her into his arms and carried her the short distance from the drawing room to the bedroom.
“I’m going to marry you. Just so we’re clear.” But this time, his intention to marry her had little to do with a longstanding contract or his intentions to honor his obligations. It had everything to do with the luscious woman in his arms.
******
Damien set Susannah down in his bedroom. She glanced around, saw it was man’s bedchamber and quickly discerned that it was of little interest compared to the man himself.
I’m going to marry you.
She couldn’t think past this moment. Her heart was beating too hard. She felt dizzy from a lack of deep breaths. She felt, underneath all the muslin, the peaks of her breasts hard and straining for his touch. She could not fathom how he could think that far ahead.
Susannah could only feel. And she felt that she wanted to explore him and to have him know her. She also felt incredibly overheated and unbearably constrained by her attire. They were going to make love.
“Shall we undress?” she asked and he gave a strangled laugh. Yes, she had kissed a girl, but that was the extent of her amorous experiences. She had, however, gleaned that a lack of attire was advisable for lovemaking.
“Match you item for item?” Damien offered.
“Deal,” she replied.
His jacket hit the floor, swiftly followed by hers.
Damien loosened his cravat, dropping the length of fabric. It fluttered down to the floor.
“All that time spent tying it just so, only to remove it so swiftly,” she remarked as she copied his movements.
Damien responded by taking off his waistcoat. Susannah smiled coyly as she slowly fingered each button before popping them free. But it was her turn to be tortured as once he removed his shirt.
His abdomen was a taut plane of rippling muscles. His arms bulged at the biceps, a pure display of sculpted strength. His sensual mouth was upturned into a proud, triumphant smile because she liked what she saw and he knew it.
She wondered if he knew how the sight of him was wreaking havoc with the pace of her heart and her ability to breathe. The ale had gone to her head. So had the adventures of the day and now this lack of a decent breath. Dizzy. She was dizzy.
“Your shirt?”
“Off,” she said, her voice muffled as she lifted the linen over her head, revealing all the muslin binding around her chest. It had taken ages to wind and would likely take a few agonizing, dizzying moments to unwind.
Boots were next—four thuds muted on the carpeted floor—followed by breeches. Followed by Damien’s unmentionables.
At the sight of him, utterly naked, Susannah did gasp. The muscles continued down his legs, strong. He put her in mind of one of the naked Roman statues she occasionally stared at for longer than was seemly (and really, ’twas the only reason to visit the British Museum). But unlike those statues…a fig leaf did not suffice. He was aroused and there was no denying it—his cock jutted out, long and thick.
He closed the distance between them. She felt nervous—she shivered—with every step he took in her direction.
“Allow me,” he said softly. With his hands on her sides, he skimmed them up drawing her arms above her head. “Now turn, slowly,” he said and she spun, step by little step, like a ballerina as he unwound the muslin, letting it flutter down to tangle with her naked legs.
As she turned, her thoughts spun wildly. What a wanton I am! This is too soon…it’s only been a day. And yet the truth was, this had been a lifetime in the making. She was contr
actually bound to this man and this act with him. But she was doing it on her own time, on her own terms.
She had planned to take a lover.
And in just one day she had kissed two.
The words society might use to describe her would perhaps be unkind. But Susannah had sweetness upon her lips, and had basked in two loving and adoring gazes and could not find it in her to regret a thing.
If one was going to be a young, pretty heiress, one ought to have as much fun as possible. Especially if Damien did mean to marry her. Not that this wasn’t fun it was…
Terrifying.
Exhilarating.
Daunting.
Tempting.
“Susannah.” His voice had a nice rasp to it. His eyes…they had a certain depth and intensity she hadn’t ever seen before. Except for that day at the lake when he saw her sopping wet with her white gown clinging to all of her new curves. “I had imagined this,” he said.
“You did?”
“But I imagined it all wrong,” he whispered as he looked reverently at her.
“What?”
“You are far more beautiful in this real moment than you were in my fantasies.”
“You fantasized about me?” This revelation surprised her and warmed her heart. Here she’d thought he’d never considered her.
“Ever since that day at the lake. Something had changed.”
“But you didn’t come for me,” she said. She understood his departure—she would have gone too. That he didn’t come when she had begged him had hurt. But…
“I’m here now,” he said clasping her cheeks in his hands and gazing deeply in her eyes. “And I’m not leaving anymore.”
“Damien, as delightful as this conversation is and while there is a wonderful intimacy to talking with a man whilst in an advanced state of undress…”
“Shut up and kiss you already?”
“Mmmmm…” she murmured because his mouth had crashed down on hers. Where Frannie had been gentle, Damien was a force to be reckoned with. And reckon she did. Her tongue teased and tangled with his. He bit down gently on her lip and she dared the same. Whereas Frannie had tasted of sweetness and innocence, Damien tasted like pure, molten wickedness and it was delicious.