She ran her hands over him, caressing his shoulders and tracing the ridges and valleys of his back with the tips of her nails. Her fingers drifted along the cleft of his spine, lower to the waist of his silk trousers, hanging low on his hips, and below to the curve of his buttocks. He tensed at her touch, and she savored the feel of his body and his response. She ran a finger along the edge of the fabric. His breath came a bit faster, as did hers. She moved closer to press against him and kissed the back of his neck. She wrapped her arms around him and reached for the drawstring of his pajamas, inadvertently brushing over his erection. He drew a deep, shuddering breath.
“India.” The word was little more than a moan.
She tugged at the drawstring, and his hand caught hers.
“You realize there is no going back from this?” His voice was ragged with desire.
She swallowed hard. “I do.”
He turned to face her, her hand still in his. “I have never taken a virgin to my bed.”
“Then I shall be your first.”
“No, you shall be my last.” He pulled her to his lips. “Be forewarned, India Prendergast, I don’t want a single night with you. This night is not all I want to last forever.”
“Good.” The word was little more than a sigh.
He kissed the palm of her hand, then her wrist. She shivered and a yearning ache spread low in her abdomen. He straightened, drew her into his arms and crushed his lips to hers. For a moment, panic surged through her. What had she done? It was quite exciting when she was the one doing the seducing, when she was in control. Now his mouth plundered hers, demanding and insistent and...her mouth opened to his, and he tasted vaguely of heat and brandy and spice. His arms wrapped tighter around her and the beating of his heart echoed her own. Something decadent and demanding—desire no doubt throbbed deep within her.
His mouth trailed from her lips and along her jaw to linger just below her ear. She caught her breath. His lips ran kisses down the curve of her neck. He moved the sleeves of her gown off her shoulders, his mouth never leaving her flesh, heated beneath his touch. He pushed the gown lower until it slid to the floor leaving her naked in his arms. She shivered with the cool night air and the feel of his body close to hers.
One hand caressed the small of her back and moved lower to the curve of her bottom. He cupped her breast and lowered his head to flick his tongue over the hardened nipple. She gasped, and her stomach tightened. He sucked at her breast and the most astonishing sensations coursed through her. Without thinking, her body pressed closer to his, his erection beneath the fabric of his pajamas nudging between her legs. He shifted his attention to her other breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth, gently nipping and sucking until her knees weakened and her nails dug into his shoulders for support.
He lowered her onto the bed and for a moment stared down at her. “There is nothing ordinary about you, India Prendergast. You are remarkable.”
He ran his hands over her ankles and along the insides of her legs, lightly caressing her knees and traveling ever higher to her inner thighs. Her legs fell open of their own accord; she was conscious of nothing but the astonishing feel of his hands on her skin—arousing and hypnotic. Flesh that had never seemed so alive. As if he had brought her to life.
His fingers slid between the soft folds at the meeting of her thighs and her breath hitched.
“Derek!”
“Carpe diem, Miss Prendergast,” he murmured, sinking to his knees between her legs.
Surely he wasn’t—she propped herself up on her elbows and stared at him. “Derek—you aren’t? You wouldn’t!” She stared. “Would you?”
“Oh, I will.” He grinned, and his head disappeared between her legs.
Her back arched at the first touch of his mouth and she cried out. This was not at all what she’d expected. The girls at Miss Bicklesham’s had shared a great deal of information but this had never... His tongue slid over her, and she moaned with the exquisite sensation. All thought of what she had expected vanished amid an onslaught of unimagined bliss. He toyed with her and teased her with his mouth and his tongue and his fingers. Her hands twisted in the sheets, and she moaned with the ever-increasing ecstasy. The strangest thing seemed to be happening within her. As if her body was growing tighter and tighter, nearing a point where she would surely die of pure pleasure or explode into a thousand pieces. It was quite the most incredible feeling. He slid a finger into her, and that too was different but not unpleasant. Then he slipped a second finger inside, and without warning she shattered. Sheer bliss and utter release thundered through her, and her body shook with the power of it.
A moment later Derek joined her on the bed and gathered her against him. Her mouth eagerly met his, and her hand slipped between them. She wanted to touch him, caress him, pleasure him as he had done her. But more—she wanted him inside her. Wanted to feel the hard length of him taking her, claiming her.
Aching desire again throbbed through her and she threw her leg over his. His erection nudged against her, and he groaned.
“India,” he murmured against her skin, then shifted to position himself between her legs.
He stroked her for a moment until her breath came faster and his fingers were again slick with the evidence of her need. She arched upward to meet him and at last he slid into her, joining her, filling her. His movements were restrained and cautious, achingly slow and deliberate.
There was no more than a twinge of discomfort, awkward for a moment but then eclipsed by the most unique awareness. He seated himself fully within her then slowly moved, sliding out then sliding in, his pace measured and unhurried. With every movement, the strangeness of it all faded replaced by unexpected and amazing sensations. In the back of her mind she noted his thoughtful concern for her and was grateful but whatever demon of desire had been released within her demanded more. She wanted him harder and faster, and she clutched at his shoulders to urge him on. Pleasure, pure and intense, spiraled through her until that odd tension wound again tighter and tighter. He thrust faster in an ever increasing rhythm, her movements instinctively matching his. And when her body convulsed once more and stars obscured her vision and scattered through her blood, she felt him shudder hard against her and moan her name.
They lay entwined together for a minute or a lifetime. She had no doubt lost the ability to move at all nor did she have any desire to do so. She could stay like this—her arms and legs entangled with his—forever. Not the least bit practical, of course, but there it was. Love coupled with passion was apparently a powerful force.
At last he withdrew, propped himself up on one elbow and studied her, a smile of contentment on his handsome face. A smile that no doubt matched her own.
“What are you thinking?” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“I suspect there’s a great deal to be said for a man who knows what he is doing when it comes to seduction. Even when he is reluctant to do so.” She giggled. Good Lord, she had never giggled in her life. What had this man done to her?
“That was an extremely practical observation, Miss Prendergast.”
“I am an extremely practical woman.”
“You realize you are mine now.”
“What?” She laughed. “I belong to you?”
“Forever.” He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “And you will marry me.”
She struggled to sit up. “Will I?”
“I have ruined you, and there is no other option,” he said firmly. “It’s the only practical, sensible, rational thing to do.”
She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “You’re being absurd. I am not a silly nineteen-year-old. I am nearly thirty years of age. You are under no obligation.”
He rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. “Did you miss that part where I said I loved you?”
“Well, no but—”<
br />
“And the even more pertinent part where you said you loved me?” His eyes narrowed. “Didn’t you mean it?”
“Of course I meant it.” She sniffed. “I would never say something of that nature if I didn’t mean it.”
“I warned you there was no going back.”
“I thought you meant, well.” She gestured at the crumpled bedclothes around them. “This.”
“I said I didn’t want a single night with you.”
“You did, but—”
“And furthermore you said you were wrong about the type of woman I should marry.”
“I said I was possibly wrong.”
“No, you said you were undeniably wrong.”
“That was a momentary lapse...”
“I would never say anything of that nature if I didn’t mean it,” he mimicked her.
“I do not sound like that,” she said loftily.
He scoffed.
“Perhaps the inflection might have been accurate.”
He laughed, then sobered. “I have never asked a woman to marry me before.” He shook his head. “Nor have I ever wanted to.”
“I cannot do anything until Heloise is found,” she warned.
“I can agree to that.” He grinned. “Besides, you reformed me. The least you can do is make an honest man out of me.”
“Have I reformed you?” Her gaze searched his.
“Without question.” He nodded. “The moment we return to London I will do whatever is necessary to ensure the Lady Travelers Society is completely legitimate.”
“Are you doing that for me or because it’s the right thing to do?”
“Both.”
“Good Lord, I really have reformed you.” She grinned with satisfaction. “I’m very good at this. Perhaps I shall become a reformer.”
“The only one you may reform is me.”
“There is much that needs to change in this world,” she said thoughtfully. “I have never had the means to do anything about it.”
“And think of all you could do if you were no longer employed. And eventually, as Lady Danby.”
“There are a lot of women who have no choice as to their lot in life,” she said. “Perhaps I could try to do something to help them.”
“Excellent idea. But first.” He pulled her back into his arms and rolled until she was beneath him, then nuzzled her neck. Once again that helpless, demanding feel of need washed through her. And with it a delicious sense of expectation.
Apparently, there was much to be said for being a harlot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Travel expands one’s horizons and broadens one’s mind and view of the world. If one is not open to new experiences, if one is not willing to accept broadening, one should stop reading this guide immediately and stay home.
—The Lady Travelers Society Guide
IT WAS NEARLY noon by the time Derek made his way to the breakfast room. He had stood guard in the hall while India made her way back to her room, comforter and all. He didn’t want so much as a whisper of gossip to touch her. He grinned. She would hate being embroiled in scandal. He’d never given any consideration to a woman’s reputation, but then he’d never been with a woman who had never been with another man before.
And he’d never been in love. Oh certainly he had fancied himself in love any number of times. It had always struck fast and hard and had vanished just as quickly. Love, for him, had always been easy. Nothing with India was easy. Why, he hadn’t even particularly liked her in the beginning. The feelings he had for her had been slow to take root and slow to blossom. He’d had to earn her friendship and her trust. Now—and she could debate semantics all she wished—now she was his. And he was hers. For today and for the rest of their lives. This was right and this was real.
This was forever.
“Good day.” He strode into the breakfast room with what he suspected was a silly grin on his face. He couldn’t help himself. The rest of his life had begun in the wee hours of the morning and he couldn’t wait for it to continue. He nodded to Val and the Greers, not the least bit surprised to see his mother had not yet made an appearance, and headed to the sideboard. “Estelle, you are looking even lovelier than usual today.”
“Goodness, Derek, the things you say.” She waved off his comment but beamed with pleasure nonetheless.
“I must say, Professor—” Derek poured a cup of Val’s blend of coffee “—you seemed to be having an excellent time last night.”
“I was indeed.” The older man smiled. “There was a most interesting assortment of guests in attendance.”
“And he does love to dance.” Estelle patted her husband’s hand.
The professor shot her a jaunty grin.
“You look in good spirits today,” Val said.
“And you look dreadful.” Derek took a seat next to his brother. “Why?”
“I did not sleep well.” Val shrugged. “Oh, a telegram came for you this morning.” He picked up an envelope beside his plate and handed it to Derek.
Derek opened the envelope and pulled out the message. “It’s from Uncle Edward.” He read the first line, looked up at the others and grinned. “Lady Heloise has been found safe and has returned to her home.”
“Wonderful!” Estelle clapped her hands together.
“Excellent,” the professor said with smile. “India will be extremely relieved.”
“And now you can tell her everything,” Val said. “Although you did say you would tell her after the ball.”
“This will make that much easier,” Derek said with a profound sense of relief. His uncle was apparently taking his role as mastermind behind the search to heart and had personally spoken with Lady Heloise. He resumed reading, and the momentary feeling of reprieve vanished. “Lady Heloise requests that while I may tell India she’s home and well, she wishes to explain the rest of it herself.”
“That takes it out of your hands then.” Val shrugged.
“Indeed it does but...” He grimaced. “I hate keeping something like this from her.”
“You didn’t seem to have a great deal of difficulty keeping it from her before.” Val studied him curiously.
“I don’t like the idea of a lie between us.” Derek’s gaze returned to the telegram.
“It’s not your lie,” Val said.
“What lie?” the professor said in an aside to his wife.
“I don’t know, dear,” Estelle said quietly. “Now, hush.”
“I am complicit in it.” Derek blew a long breath. “And things are, well, different now.”
“Now you’re in love with her.”
The Greers traded glances—Estelle’s was distinctly smug, her husband’s resigned.
“That does make a difference. But more important, she trusts me. I have no desire to betray that trust.”
“Your reasons for not telling her everything are as valid now as they were before Lady Heloise’s reappearance. The only difference is that now I agree with you.” A firm note rang in Val’s voice. “It is not your place to tell her this. This is no longer your decision.”
“You’re right, I suppose, but it feels wrong. It feels like a lie. But...” Derek shook his head. “It’s not my story to tell. It’s been taken out of my hands.”
“What’s been taken out of your hands?” India appeared in the doorway, cast him a brilliant smile—a smile full of shared secrets and promises—and nodded at the rest of the gathering, gesturing at the men to remain seated. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” She headed for the sideboard. “Do forgive me. For some reason I am famished today.” She took a plate and surveyed the offerings. “What isn’t your story to tell, Derek?” she said over her shoulder.
Derek rose to his feet and glanced at Val. His brother w
as right—this was not his place. “I received a telegram this morning.”
“Another from your uncle?” She selected several sausages. “I do so love these sausages. About business?”
“Not exactly.” He braced himself. “India.”
There must have been something in his voice. She set down her plate and turned around. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he said firmly. “In fact, I have wonderful news.”
“Your cousin is home and safe in London,” Estelle blurted, then winced. “Goodness, Derek, I do apologize but you were taking forever.”
India stared at him. “Is this true?”
Derek smiled. “I believe the quest is over.”
“Thank God.” A sob broke from her, and she choked it back as her eyes filled with tears. “My apologies. I’m not an emotional sort—I certainly never cry. And I know given Heloise’s nature that there was as good a chance that she had simply forgotten to write as there was that something dreadful had happened but...”
Derek moved close and wrapped his arms around her. Muffled sobs shuddered against his chest. “But she is home now, and all is well.”
“It is, isn’t it?” She sniffed then stilled. India raised her head and looked up at him. “What isn’t your story to tell?”
“We should go,” Professor Greer murmured to his wife.
“Absolutely not,” Estelle whispered.
“Uh...” Derek had always considered himself fairly glib. Words came easily to him, especially when they were fashioned in the form of an excuse or an explanation. But now, staring down at India’s expectant face, he realized there was nothing he could say. No one could make this right except Heloise. The only chance the older lady had of repairing whatever damage she may have done with her deceit was if she explained everything to India herself. God knows, Derek had no idea why she’d done what she’d done. No, he couldn’t say anything even if he had any idea what to say. And absolutely nothing came to mind.
The Lady Travelers Guide to Scoundrels and Other Gentlemen Page 32