by Gill, Tamara
For there was no doubt that this wicked embrace he was bestowing on her was simply a chink in his armor. She was going to kiss him until he stopped and be damned what happened after the event.
Her breasts raked across his chest as she wrapped her arms about his neck. His kiss was ardent, deep and claiming. The glide of his hand on her thigh made her shiver, and it was only when the cool air kissed her ankles that she wondered at his loss of control. Had he changed his mind? Was he willing to sleep with her now that he’d kissed her?
Oh, please say that you are.
Hamish wrenched out of her arms, setting her back to her side of the chaise and rose, running a hand through his hair and leaving it on end. “God’s blood.” He took a couple of steps back, colliding with the chair behind him and almost falling over. Righting himself, he watched her, his eyes wide, his lips reddened by their activity.
She’d done that. She’d rattled one of the most sought-after gentleman in the ton. It was a heady feeling and she stood, wanting more of the same.
He held out his hand to halt her steps. “No. We cannot. I cannot. I’m sorry,” he said, bolting out of the room like a startled horse.
Katherine watched the empty doorway until she heard the front door slam closed behind him. She flopped down on the leather wingback chair, finally, after six and twenty years she’d had her first kiss. And not a chaste, peck on the lips, but a true, toe curling, heart pounding kiss. One that made everything else pale in comparison. If being in Lord Leighton’s arms was as enjoyable as she’d just experienced, there was no wonder women married men or indulged in scandalous affairs.
Who would not want that every day?
And now all she had to do was figure out how to get him to kiss her again. She stared at the flames licking the wood in the hearth. There was the Curzon ball coming up that she was to attend with Darcy and Cecilia. Maybe she would put off her idea of wearing one of her own gowns and borrow one from Darcy instead. Darcy had loved nothing more than to shock the ton of their sensibilities prior to marrying the Duke of Athelby, and that’s exactly what Katherine needed to do with Lord Leighton. Seduce him in to having her or at the very least, kissing her again. Either option would be enjoyable.
Chapter 7
Hamish arrived late to the Curzons’ ball and there was a very special reason for doing so. He wasn’t normally a coward, didn’t shy away from events that could prove trying, but tonight he wasn’t so sure he was up for battle.
This would be a very particular battle with the very charming, very good at kissing, Miss Martin. It had been four days since he’d kissed her in her library, an event that should never have happened. He’d no sooner told her why he wouldn’t sleep with her, to then maul her on the settee.
One touch of her soft lips, the soft little gasps as he took her mouth with his, made him hard. He greeted his hostesses, stopping to chat with them for a time, though his mind was elsewhere. Was she still here? It was after midnight, and their group of friends often attended more than one event when out in Society.
“Lord Leighton.”
He heard his name and inwardly swore when he recognized the voice. His cousin Lizzie Doherty waved and walked toward him. Excusing himself from Lord Curzon he met her, away from prying ears as one never knew what was going to come out of the chits mouth at any one time.
“Lizzie, how lovely you look this evening.”
She dipped into a quick curtsy, grinning up at him. He tempered his annoyance, the young woman was sweet, if a little naïve and annoying at times. She was still family and he would not be short with her, no matter how much he longed to seek out Miss Martin if only to apologize for his ungentlemanly behaviour the other day.
“Thank you, cousin, that is very kind of you. Your mama said that blue was your favourite color and so I thought this would please you most especially.”
Hamish made a mental note to tell his mother to mind her own business in future. “Did she, well, the color suits you very well.”
She took his arm, and although forward, Hamish used the opportunity to deliver her to his mother whom he spied over near the supper room doors. Her pleased expression at seeing him with Lizzie warned Hamish, and he knew exactly what she was about.
His parent beamed, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he came to stand before her. With well-practised expertise he extracted Lizzie’s arm without causing offence.
“You’re very late, Hamish. We’ve been waiting for you to arrive, you owe your cousin a dance before we take our leave.”
He inwardly groaned while nodding in agreement. “Of course, I’ll dance with my cousin. When there is another set I shall come and collect you.”
“There is to be a waltz next, just before supper. I think now is as good a time as any.”
Hamish held out his arm to his cousin, and she all but bounced while taking it. Leading her onto the floor a flash of red caught his eye and looking he stumbled as he recognized Miss Martin, settling into the arms of Lord Lacelles, an Earl of impeccable character and unlimited funds. He could marry whomever he pleased, whenever he pleased being the only child and without family after the death of his parents at an early age.
If the content grin and sparkling eyes that she all but batted toward the Earl were any indication, Miss Martin was well pleased.
“Shall we, Lord Leighton?” his cousin asked.
Hamish wrenched his gaze from Miss Martin, and instead pulled Lizzie into his. He allowed the flow of the music to soothe his ire, but it was dastardly hard when Miss Martin kept floating by, the sound of her joyful laughter like a punch to the gut.
He didn’t say a lot to Lizzie for fear of being sharp, but somehow he managed one or two questions, although he could not for the life of him recall if she even answered or what those answers were. As soon as the dance was over, he marched her back to his mother, settled them at the supper room table and left to seek out his friends where most decidedly Miss Martin would be.
Their table was full when he came over to them, the Earl of Lacelles sitting with them where he would normally reside. The duke stood as he came up to them, smiling in welcome.
“Leighton, let me have a chair fetched for you,” he said, calling over a footman to attend him.
Soon enough Hamish was seated alongside them all, and yet the annoyance that flowed through his veins would not abate. He’d hoped to speak to Katherine alone, but the likelihood of that at present seemed slim. Darcy, Cecilia and Miss Martin sat at the table, eating lobster patties and drinking wine. They were laughing and chuckling about all kinds of things that eluded him.
And what baffled him when he didn’t wish it to, was Miss Martin avoiding any sort of eye contact with him. When he’d spoken she’d simply turned to the Earl of Lacelles beside her and chatted quietly. When he commented on topics their friends raised she busied herself with her meal or wine.
What game was she playing…?
The good conversation flowed, and determined to have her look at him, Hamish simply waited, stared at her and sought patience.
The moment she did it was like a physical blow to his gut. In her dark orbs, there was no masking the burning desire for him. Where had she learnt such a thing? A woman he was certain had never been kissed before his slip the other day. But she had learned the art of flirting, and his body reacted accordingly.
The duke cleared his throat, and Hamish looked to his friend seated to his left, the duke’s raised brow told Hamish he’d seen their silent communication.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Hamish. I do not want to see Miss Martin hurt under any circumstances. She does not have a brother to fight for her honor, so be mindful of it.”
Hamish took a long pull of his wine. “I do not intend to hurt her, and nothing will occur in any case. I’ve told her I shall not do what she asks and that’s the end of it.”
“Really,” the duke scoffed. “That look that just passed between the two of you already tells me something has occurred.”
The guests started to make their way to the ballroom, and Hamish stood, not wanting to continue his current conversation. To prove his point, he walked from the supper room and sought out Lady Grey, a widow and a woman whom he was very fond of, a woman who’d more than once warmed his bed. He needed a distraction, a reminder that Miss Martin wasn’t anyone special. She was simply a mutual friend he’d kissed.
A footman passed with a silver tray full of champagne glasses and he swiped one and drank it down placing it back on the tray before the footman had gone two steps. Lady Grey threw him an amused glance as he bowed before her, before taking her hand and all but dragging her onto the dance floor.
He moved with her through the intricate steps of the reel, reminding himself that she was the type of woman he enjoyed taking to his bed. She was a woman of medium height, with rich golden blonde locks that accentuated her striking face and equally striking bosom. Her rounded figure and hips that had a little flesh on them, were just enough to hold on to when riding a wave of pleasure. And she was well versed in avoiding consequences that such bed sport often produced.
“I hope I’m being helpful in distracting you Lord Leighton from whatever vexes you so.”
He looked down at her, surprised by such a question. “How do you mean?”
She laughed, a sultry, condemning sound that went straight to his conscience. “Who is she?” she asked, meeting his gaze, her features serious of a sudden.
He twirled her, before moving down the line of dancers. “No one.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue and glanced up to see Katherine watching him, her attention on him but a second before moving onto his dance partner then away.
If he wished to see hurt on her features, he was disappointed. No such reaction occurred, merely boredom and curiosity. Did she not care? Did she truly only wish for him to take her to his bed, one night and then they would part. Was he being too emotional over the whole concept, when she was looking at it as merely an enlightening experience she would enjoy before moving on into spinsterhood well and truly.
“She’s very pretty, not beautiful, but passable.”
Passable? The word sent his ire to soar. Katherine was more than passable. Damn it, she was growing to be one of the most beautiful women of his acquaintance. The women he usually dallied his days away with were nothing but painted up doxy’s. Their fortune the only difference between them and the Convent Garden whores.
Shame washed over him at the thought. It was men like him that enabled such sport against walls in alleyways, in rowdy houses of ill repute. It was men like him who slept with women, where the slightest interest was sometimes enough for one to lift a gown in a vacant room at a ball, or deserted passageway. If the women of his acquaintance were whores, then so too was he.
“She is lovely, but she is not up for conversation. Nor should I be dancing with you simply to spite her.”
Lady Grey grinned up at him, mischief in her eyes. “Is that what I am right now? Am I a woman to cause jealousy in another simply so you can gain what you want?”
If only it was as simple. There was no doubt he wanted Katherine, but it was she who sought him out, wanted him just as much. A heady, alluring concept he’d never experienced before in his life.
Thankfully the dance came to an end, and returning Lady Grey to her friends, Hamish made a hasty exit and started toward Miss Martin. She watched his approach, the lift of one brow, challenging and vexing at the same time, made his desire for her twofold.
He walked past her, clasping her hand and pulling her around to follow him. She did without a word, and they exited into a passageway that led into a conservatory. The room smelt as exotic plants and fruits. Without waiting, and with no words spoken between them, he pushed her up against the wall beside the door and took her mouth in a searing, punishing kiss.
She moaned the instant their lips met, her hands wrapping about his neck and holding him close. Hamish pinned her there, wanting to keep her just as she was forever. His mind was a cluster of unfathomable, confused thoughts, of what was right and wrong. What he wanted to do versus what he should do.
The feel of her hand sliding down his back, coming to rest on his rump sent heat to his cock and he hardened further. And damn it, he was so hard already it physically hurt.
He kissed his way down her neck, the scent of apples that sprung from her gown intoxicating him. He clasped her bottom, holding her against him and rocked, reveled in her gasp of surprise, before that little gasp turned into a siren’s call and she undulated against him, seeking her own pleasure.
Hamish was certain she didn’t know what she sought, but the body, when aroused didn’t need past experiences to know what it craved. Here, at the Curzons’ ball wasn’t the place for them, and he would not deflower her here amongst the ton, but he would have her.
That he had no doubt of, not any longer. When they were apart he thought of little else, other than to be with her again, even if simply to talk. And when near her, the urge to be tactile, take her gloved hand and dance, was overwhelming. He would no longer deny either of them what they wanted.
“We cannot here, Katherine.” His words were breathless, his heart pumping loud in his ears.
“Where then?” she asked, meeting his gaze. “Surely we can come together sometime soon. It is for only one night after all.” She glided her thumb across his lips and he playfully bit it.
“Sometime soon, I promise, but not here, not now. I will not be such a blaggard and take you in a conservatory up against a wall.”
“And yet,” she said, a playful tilt to her head. “The thought of such a way has me curious. Is it even possible?”
Oh, dear god. He hardened further at the image that roused in his mind. “It’s possible, believe me, a lot is possible when one wants it enough.”
A small frown formed between her perfect brows. “You’ll think me silly, but how is it possible. We both need to stand and so I thought…”
Hamish reached down, and hoisted her gown up, lifting her legs at the same time and wrapping them about his hips. Instinctively she wrapped her arms about his neck, her eyes wide with surprise and enlightenment.
It was the worst mistake of his life, for having her like this, his cock hard up against her heat almost doubled him over with need. “Do you understand now?” he rasped, unable to help but to rub himself against her core.
She all but thrummed in his arms, helping him with his undulation. “Don’t move, Katherine.” He kissed her hard and the little minx moved again. He moaned, but somewhere in the lustful recess of his mind, he set her on her feet, quickly righting her gown before stepping back fighting to control his emotions.
“You should return to the ball before you’re missed. Go back through the main entrance hall, the guests will simply think you’ve returned from the retiring room.”
Hamish didn’t move, needing to stay exactly where he was lest he drag her down onto the marble bench and take her here and now, and bedamned who caught them.
Katherine, her eyes cloudy with unsated need, a feeling he was well and truly feeling himself right at the moment, stood before him, leaning close before kissing him softly. She met his gaze as she stopped the chaste embrace, holding his gaze.
“I’ll await your summons, Lord Leighton.”
His gut tightened at the thought of having her beneath him. Without distractions or the possibility of interruption. “Hamish, please,” he reminded her.
She turned and headed for the door, stopping to glance over her shoulder. “Don’t take too long, Hamish. After what you showed me tonight, I may seek you out if you do.”
Body roaring with need, he grabbed hold of the small cabinet beside him and didn’t let go until she was out of sight. When he’d pulled her away from the ball he’d not planned to engage in such antics.
All
lies when he cared to admit it to himself. He’d been so distracted seeing her dancing with someone else, that all his thoughts had centered on claiming her, letting her know in uncertain terms that it was he who would deflower her, not some other man.
Blast it all to hell. What was he going to do? After tasting her, having her sweet, willing body hard up against his, tempting him like sin, there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted. But then what? One night only in her arms?
Something told him that would never do. To fully gauge and experience all that could be between them they should at least have two. He would put the proposition to her when he saw her next, which would be sooner rather than later.
* * *
The carriage rattled over the roads on their way to Yardley Hall, Surrey where the Marquess of Aaron and Cecilia had invited a select group of guests to a fortnight long house party. The invitation had come the day after Katherine had experienced the most eye-opening kiss within the conservatory with Lord Leighton.
He wished to see her again, had promised to show her more, so would he act on that at Cecilia’s country home. Trepidation and excitement thrummed through her at the thought and she shifted on the seat, enjoying the delicious ache it aroused at her core.
It was a novel experience being wanted, and she knew by his ardent response to her kiss he desired her. For heavens knew, she wanted him.
The carriage turned through the gates of Yardley Hall and Katherine looked down into the gully and saw the sprawling mansion, its glass windows twinkling in the afternoon sun. She’d been the last to leave London due to her work, as she’d needed to oversee the roof slates that were now going up on Lord Leighton’s townhouse. The structural work was coming along very well, and soon their side of the building would be complete and her association with his lordship on a business side would be finished. She could only hope it wasn’t the end of their personal one.
Before the house party invitation arriving she’d not been summoned by Lord Leighton and she consoled herself that it was simply because he’d see her here. They were not courting, he’d explained his reasonings behind that, and she had accepted them. He owed her, and he would pay that debt back in the most pleasurable way possible. After that, there was nothing more he expected.