“Should I have let her starve?” Lily asked rhetorically. “Boots is an excellent mouser, but at the moment she has more important tasks to occupy her, namely taking care of her kittens.”
His handsome mouth quirked. “Do you mean to remain there with the cats?”
“No. I will come down as soon as my head clears. I seem…to have drunk a bit too much champagne.” To her chagrin, she was too dizzy just now to climb safely down the ladder to escape Lord Claybourne’s unwanted presence.
“Then you won’t mind if I join you,” he said, moving across the aisle to put a foot on the lowest wooden rung.
Yes, she minded! Lily sat up abruptly, wondering how she could prevent him from imposing his company upon her. “You cannot climb up here, my lord!” she exclaimed, yet her protest obviously had no effect, since his head soon appeared above the ledge.
“I believe I can. I plan to keep you company.”
With his torso in view, he paused to survey her with interest.
“You will get your coat dusty,” Lily said lamely, eying his elegantly tailored evening coat of burgundy superfine-Weston, no doubt-that fitted those magnificent shoulders to perfection.
“My coat will survive.” His gaze raked over her own attire. “What about you? You are wearing a ball gown.”
“That is different. I don’t care about clothing.”
When his eyebrow shot up, Lily realized that her retort could have two meanings. “I d-don’t mean that I like to go naked…” she stammered, feeling scalding heat flood her cheeks. “I only meant that I don’t care about fancy clothing…ball gowns and shuch.”
“How novel.” His tone turned wry as he climbed the last few rungs and settled a hip on the loft’s edge. “It strains the imagination. You must be the first female I have ever met who isn’t interested in fancy gowns.”
“But you see, I am not normal, my lord. I am very abnormal.”
“Is that so?” he replied, easing himself closer to sit beside her.
Even in the dim light, she could see that his hazel eyes were dancing. He was laughing at her!
Stiffening her spine, Lily opened her mouth to remonstrate, but he spoke first. “What is so abnormal about you, angel? You look exceedingly normal to me.”
When his gaze drifted downward again over her body, Lily pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks and willed herself to calm down-which was deplorably difficult considering the fluttery, flustered sensations that were racing through her at his lordship’s close proximity.
Stretching up to her full sitting height, she tried to appear regal and made her tone dampening as she replied. “I meant that I am not usual for a female.”
“I have little doubt about that.”
She shot him an exasperated look. “The thing is, I should have been born male. I would have been mush happier.”
“Oh, and are you so unhappy now?”
In her slightly inebriated state, her thoughts were more sluggish than usual, and she had to consider his question for a moment. “Well…no. I like my life quite well. But women have little of the freedom that men enjoy.”
“What freedom would you like to enjoy, love?”
Lily bit her lower lip, abashed at how her tongue was running away from her. Yet she couldn’t seem to help herself; the champagne had loosened her tongue deplorably. “Never mind. Don’t listen to me, my lord. I don’t hold my liquor at all well.”
“So it would seem. What made you drink so much then?”
“I was drowning my sorrows, if you insist on knowing.”
“What sorrows?”
“At losing my sister to matrimony. I was indulging in a bout of melancholy. But it was supposed to be private.” When he didn’t respond, Lily added pointedly, “That is a veiled hint for you to leave, my lord.”
Instead of retreating down the loft ladder, he smiled and leaned back, casually resting his weight on his palms and crossing his long, satin-clad legs in front of him, as if settling in for a long stay.
Lily exhaled in a huff. “I don’t think you comprehend the danger you are in, Lord Claybourne. It is a grave mistake for you to be alone with me. If Winifred knew, she would be ecstatic.”
“Winifred?”
“Lady Freemantle. She is the main reason I left the ball early-to escape her scheming. She is trying to mash…match me with you. You must have noticed.”
Her allegation didn’t seem to alarm him as it should. “Perhaps, but her machinations are no worse than usual. I’m well-accustomed to eager mamas throwing their daughters at my head.”
Lily grimaced in disgruntlement. “Perhaps you can dismiss her plotting, but I cannot. It is mortifying in the extreme. I am not a prize heifer, to be exhibited before an eligible gentleman and judged for my defects and qualifications.”
His eyes were dancing again. “I should think not.”
At his blithe reply, exasperation welled up in Lily full force. “Do you not understand? Winifred wants me to set my cap at you.”
“But you don’t intend to.”
“Certainly not! I have no interest in marriage.”
“That is quite a unique perspective for a young lady. Most women have made it their mission in life to find a husband.”
“True. But you needn’t worry about me hounding you, Lord Claybourne. Oh, I know you are a prime catch. You are disgustingly rich, you have a vaunted title, you aren’t so shabby in appearance, and you are said to be irresistibly charming.”
“But you aren’t swayed by this delightful catalog of my attributes.”
“Not in the least.” Lily smiled faintly to soften the harshness of her observation. “No doubt you have a bevy of lovestruck admirers, but I will never join their ranks. And I have no intention of behaving like all the other flagrant husband-hunters you know. I won’t chase after you.”
“You relieve my mind, Miss Loring. I don’t enjoy being chased.” From the provocative laughter in his voice, he seemed to be enjoying himself far too much. “But I am quite curious to know why you have such a profound distaste for marriage.”
Lily drew a deep breath. Hoyden or not, she normally would never dream of discussing her personal affairs with a perfect stranger. But in this case, she was eager to be rid of him, so a liberal dose of frankness might stand her in good stead.
“In my experience marriage usually leads to unhappiness for a woman,” she said honestly.
“You speak from personal experience?”
Lily made a face. “Unfortunately, yes. My parents’ union was hostile enough to give me an aversion to matrimony for life.”
The gleaming light in Claybourne’s eyes faded as he studied her. His searching perusal was more unsettling than his amusement, however.
“I don’t need a husband,” she hurried to add, “despite what proper society decrees for young ladies. I am financially independent now, thanks to the generous settlement Marcus made me. So I can have a fulfilling life without having to marry.”
“Yet you implied you wanted more freedom.”
She smiled uncertainly. “True.” Her dream had always been to escape to a life of freedom and adventure. “I mean to use the funds to travel the world and explore new and exciting places.”
“Alone?”
“Lady Hester Stanhope did it,” Lily pointed out, mentioning the adventurous earl’s daughter and niece of William Pitt the Younger who had sailed to the Middle East and eventually joined a settlement of Arab tribesmen.
“So she did. But she was significantly older than you.”
“I am one and twenty, old enough to take care of myself.”
“So…you won’t marry because men often make their wives unhappy,” Claybourne said slowly, as if testing the theory in his mind.
“Yes. First you make us too infatuated to think clearly, so we give over all control to you, and then you make our lives a misery.” Unconsciously Lily ground her teeth. “I think it abominable that husbands have the legal right to be villainous toward their wives. I
am not about to give any man that power over me.”
To her surprise, Claybourne leaned forward and raised a hand to touch her cheek. “Who hurt you, angel?” he asked quietly.
Discomfited, Lily drew back. “No one hurt me. It was my mother who was hurt. And my eldest sister also, for that matter.”
He was silent for a moment. “I understand your father was a champion philanderer.”
Lily looked away, not wanting to recall the painful memories. “He was indeed. He flaunted his mistresses before my mother at every opportunity. It hurt her terribly. And Arabella’s first betrothed betrayed her almost as badly. Belle loved him, but when my parents’ scandal broke, he ended their engagement out of hand.”
Lily was certain Lord Claybourne knew all about the terrible scandals that had befallen her family four years ago. First their mother had taken a lover because she was unable to endure her unhappy marriage any longer, and then was forced to flee to the Continent by her outraged husband. A fortnight later their libertine father gambled away the last of his fortune and was killed in a duel over one of his mistresses. The Loring sisters had been left penniless and homeless, at the mercy of their curmudgeonly step-uncle, the Earl of Danvers, who had taken them in most grudgingly.
“Is that why you didn’t want Marcus marrying your sister?”
“In large part.”
“You seem to harbor a strong prejudice against noblemen.”
“I won’t deny it. Noblemen can make the worst sort of husbands.”
“Then I can take heart from the fact that your aversion is not directed at me personally.”
Her brows drew together. “No, I have nothing against you personally, my lord. I don’t even know you.” Thankfully, she added to herself.
Claybourne remained silent for another dozen heartbeats before shifting his position to study the box’s inhabitants. “I take it this is Boots,” he murmured, reaching down to scratch the mother cat behind one ear. Surprisingly Boots didn’t object but started purring at once, rubbing her head sensuously against his fingers.
Lily found her gaze riveted on his lordship’s hands as he stroked the silky gray fur. He had strong, graceful hands, surprising in such a bold, masculine man.
“I think you are forgetting one important fact,” he said finally.
She didn’t immediately realize that Lord Claybourne was speaking to her. “What fact?”
“It is true that some men can be hurtful, but they can also give women great pleasure.”
Warmth rose to her face. “Perhaps some men can, but that is beside the point.”
Just then the black kitten pounced on his cuff and started chewing his knuckle.
“Hungry little fellow, aren’t you?” he murmured with a smile. “And you as well,” he added as the gray kitten attacked his thumb.
He drew out the tiny creatures, settling them in his lap. Almost at once the black kitten crawled up his chest, digging its claws into the gold brocade of his waistcoat.
“I am sorry, my lord,” Lily said regretfully.
“It is no matter.” When the black one scampered higher, Claybourne gave a soft laugh. The low, husky sound raked across Lily’s nerve endings with undeniable potency.
“Here, let me help…” she hastened to say.
Leaning forward, she reached out to pluck the kitten off his chest, but the curling claws clung to his cravat. Lily tried to extricate the tiny claws from the fine fabric without damaging it and somehow wound up pushing the marquess back in the straw.
He lay there, looking up at her. Leaning over him, Lily froze at the expression on his face. He had gone quite still, but there was a soft fire in his eyes that made her heart beat faster.
“I am sorry,” she repeated, suddenly breathless.
“I am not.”
His fingers closing gently around the tiny black paws, he managed to free his cravat and set the kitten in the straw beside him. Immediately it bounded off toward the box, and the gray went scrambling after its littermate.
Even so, Lily couldn’t look away from Lord Claybourne. When he reached up and slid his fingers behind her nape, her breathing faltered altogether. Then shockingly, he drew her mouth down to meet his in a featherlight contact.
She was unprepared for the rush of sensation that shot through her at the unexpected caress; his lips were warm and firm yet enticingly soft at the same time-and much too tempting.
Stifling a gasp, Lily pressed her palms against his chest and lifted her reeling head. “W-why did you do that?” she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.
“I wanted to see if your lips were as inviting as they look.”
His reply was not what she expected. “And were they?”
“More so.”
Lily stared down at him, unable to move. Her gaze was riveted on his face. It was a strong face, arresting and beautiful in the muted glow of lamplight. He had a beautiful mouth also, even though she hadn’t let herself acknowledge it before. His lips were chiseled and generous, and they curved now in a faint smile as he returned her regard.
“I expect you have no idea what you are missing, sweetheart. Passion between a man and a woman can be quite remarkable.”
Lily cleared her suddenly dry throat, fighting her enchanted stupor. “Even so, I don’t care to have anything to do with passion.”
“What do you know about it? Have you ever even been properly kissed?”
Her brow furrowed cautiously. “What do you mean by ‘properly’?”
His quiet chuckle was soft, husky, as he drew her face down to his again. “If you have to ask, the answer must be no. I think we should rectify the deficiency at once…”
As the warm mist of his breath caressed her mouth, Lily braced herself for the renewed shock, but when his lips began to play over hers with exquisite pressure, she felt her resistance melting.
The effect of his kiss was spellbinding. The heady sensation he roused made her light-headed and giddy, much like the effect of the champagne.
When he left off this time, he reached up and stroked her cheek with a finger. “Did you find that pleasurable, sweeting?”
She couldn’t utter a denial for it would be a lie. His kiss had left her breathless and dazed, and she felt a strange quivering between her thighs, a restless ache low and deep in her feminine center. “Y-yes.”
“You sound unsure.”
“It was…quite pleasant.”
His mouth curved wryly. “Merely pleasant? I think I should be insulted.”
“You know you needn’t be. You are said to be a devil with the ladies, and you have countless conquests-” She paused, shaking her head in a futile effort to clear it. “At least now I can understand why everyone says women adore you.”
“Who says so?”
“Fanny.”
“Fanny Irwin? Ah yes, I recall your sister Arabella mentioning that you were childhood friends with Miss Irwin.”
Fanny was one of the most sought-after courtesans in London. But as one of their dearest friends, she had attended Arabella’s wedding celebrations today, much to the dismay of the ton’s high sticklers.
Lily desperately wished Fanny were here now to advise her. How had she gotten herself into such a fix? What was she doing here in a secluded loft with this utterly beguiling stranger? Somehow she was sprawled all over Lord Claybourne, pressed against his hard, muscular body. Warmth radiated up from his chest, infusing her breasts with a delicious heaviness.
And that was before he raised a finger to the hollow of her throat and lightly stroked. “I think I should demonstrate.”
“Demonstrate what?” she asked unsteadily.
His eyes smiled into hers. “The kind of pleasure a man can give a woman.”
Her heart started thudding harder as he made good on his declaration. His hand cupping the back of her head, he drew her close again…yet this time his kiss held an even more delectable pressure. This kiss was slow and erotic and extremely thorough; parting her lips, his tongue slid into h
er mouth, creating an intense yearning inside her that only added to her light-headedness.
Lily fought the powerful urges in her body. Her head was still spinning from the champagne, but that didn’t explain her overwhelming feelings of desire or her deplorable attraction to the seductive marquess.
She couldn’t resist letting him continue, though. Not when he was assailing her mouth with such throat-stopping languor…molding, tasting, teasing. All her senses felt assaulted as his tongue stroked provocatively against hers, tangling in a sensual dance.
With a sound between a sigh and a whimper, Lily surrendered.
In response, his kiss only deepened.
Helplessly she raised her hand to his sun-streaked brown hair, which was amazingly thick and silky. His own hand cradled her throat, then slid lower to where the square decolletage of her evening gown exposed a generous amount of bare skin.
When his knuckles skimmed the upper swells of her breasts, Lily tried to draw in a shaky breath of air. But he kept on kissing her, arousing with silky strokes of his tongue, slowly driving, deliciously plundering.
She was achingly aware when he shifted beneath her, for one of his knees separated hers. Through her skirts she felt the pressure of his sinewed thigh against her femininity. At the same time his hand moved lower to lightly cup her breast.
Lily moaned at the feverish surge of pleasure that sensuous caress engendered. She felt overwhelmed with sensation, and when his fingertips discovered her nipple beneath her bodice, fire streaked through her body, flooding her veins with shuddering heat.
She had never felt anything like this captivating man’s erotic assault on her senses. He was driving her mad with his caresses, encouraging her response, coaxing her, stirring the wildness that had always clamored in her blood.
Yet it was his tenderness that stunned her most. He knew his own strength, knew how to use it. He could be gentle, tender, that was evident. Moments earlier, the two kittens had swarmed over him, mewling and purring, disarming the caution that she had learned long ago, when she was sixteen.
That should have been a warning, Lily knew. Those tiny creatures sensed no danger with him, which made him infinitely dangerous to her…
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