“I’m so glad you could come,” he said, his voice low and surprisingly husky even to his ears.
“Are you?” she asked, sounding a little sceptical.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice firm, and meaning it. He moved one hand to her waist and pulled her closer before tugging at the ribbons of her bonnet. “These thing are really not made with dalliance in mind,” he muttered with a sigh, before tossing it beside her reticule. She made a faint sound of protest, but August silenced her by pressing his lips to hers. He found he didn’t want to wait any longer. The anticipation of this moment had grown over the past days and now … now he wanted to teach her a little more of the lesson she had only just begun to learn.
She sank into him, all the tension leaving her body in a rush as he drew her closer still. He cupped her face with his free hand, stroking the soft skin of her cheek, her neck, and then allowing his fingers to trail down. The buttons on the cropped spencer she wore posed no challenge, even one-handed, and he slipped his hand beneath. Her breath caught and he relished the sound of it, deepening the kiss further as he traced a finger along the neckline of her gown. It was by no means a revealing gown, but as he now knew, Miss Pearson was a voluptuous landscape of curves and soft places perfect for a fellow to rest a weary head on. That being the case, her generous charms were obvious enough and all his to enjoy as his finger slid over the plump curve of one breast. He drew back, breaking the kiss for a moment and watching her with satisfaction as he found her flushed and breathless.
“Do I meet with your approval, Miss Pearson?” he asked, realising that he was hard and aching for more himself as she shivered in his arms.
“Yes,” she whispered, a rather delighted smile curving over her mouth. “Very much, thank you.”
August chuckled, and then pressed his lips to her neck, pleased by the gasp she made and the hand that tangled in his hair. He trailed kisses along her collarbone before moving lower, hearing her breathing grow faster as his lips pressed kisses along the neckline of her gown.
“I want more of this,” he murmured, as one hand cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing over the thin muslin and discovering the taut nipple beneath.
“I-I,” she stammered, clearly a little daunted as August raised an eyebrow at her.
“Have you lost your nerve already?” he asked, his voice gentle and amused at her obvious shock. “Do you want me to stop?”
“N-no,” she stammered, making him smile. “But …”
“But nothing,” he replied with a chuckle. Reaching around, he loosened the ties of her gown before tugging it from her shoulders.
“My Lord,” she squeaked as he exposed one beautiful, full breast to the air. “I’m … I’m not sure if …”
August didn’t wait to hear what it was she’d wasn’t sure about. His mouth was watering, his body taut with desire, and he lowered his mouth to her breast. The sound she made as his mouth closed over her suggested her doubts had fled. They way her hand clutched at his head, tugging at his hair and holding him in place rather backed up this idea. August smiled against her skin, pleased by the low moan that escaped her as he teased the tight bud of her nipple with teeth and tongue.
“My word, Miss Pearson, you have been hiding your light under a bushel,” he murmured, taking a moment to look up at her.
“I rather think you might call me Patience,” she replied, the words breathless but her tone so dry that he could not help but laugh.
“Delighted to, Patience,” he said, returning his attention to her mouth for a moment as he kissed her again. He pulled back for just a moment, quite unable to resist adding, “And you must call me August.” Before she could reply, he kissed her again, one hand occupied in caressing her ample charms.
August found himself delighted by her, captivated by her enthusiasm and part of him wished he had found a way to get her back to his house. Desire was a burn beneath his skin, and the more this went on, the harder it was to control. In truth, he’d picked this location for that reason, knowing that it would not allow things to go too far. He had no wish to ruin her. He’d been honest when he’d asked for her friendship, and he would not do that to his friend. It hadn’t occurred to him, however, that it would be so dreadfully hard to resist the temptation.
Pulling away from her was the single hardest thing he’d ever done.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice low and breathless and her eyes so full of wanting him that August wanted to howl with frustration.
“We need to stop this now,” he said, reminding himself that he was the experienced one here. She didn’t understand yet how things could get out of hand, how what seemed to be the only possible action in the heat of the moment could lead to a lifetime of regrets and recriminations.
“No.” She almost pouted, leaning in for another kiss. It was easy for her to do as well, she was so much taller than any other woman he’d dallied with that their mouths were level. August found that he was helpless against her desire and allowed himself the pleasure of giving in for a moment.
“Enough,” he protested, afraid that he might not be able to keep a hold on his own desire for much longer if she persisted.
“But I don’t want to,” she said, the words full of reproach as she pressed harder against him, eager for more. He clutched at her hips as her nearness and willingness taunted him, making his body ache with need.
“You think I do, you foolish creature?” he said with frustration. “But if this carries on, I won’t be able to stop. Do you understand?”
She stared at him, bewilderment in her eyes as he wondered what exactly she did know about what happened between a man and a woman. “You … you really desire me?”
He gaped at her, astonished that she could be in any doubt at this point. “You can’t be serious?” he demanded, wondering if she had the slightest idea of the pain he was in. “I’m going to go mad if we stay here any longer, and I can’t …” He bit the words off before he really shocked her.
“I don’t want to go,” she whispered and August moaned as she pressed against him once more. In desperation, he dropped his hand to her behind and caught her thigh, lifting her leg and pressing his aching body between her legs, tilting his hips so that his arousal slid against her. The effect was electric, for both of them, and August felt his mouth grow dry, his breath catch at the sound she made.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, the words almost a growl in the dim light of the cave. “It’s all I can think about.”
She hauled in a breath, clutching at him, her eyes wide with shock and dark with desire. “I … I …” she stammered.
August let her go before he took leave of his senses entirely, and took a few paces back, cursing with fury under his breath. He had to stop this. He wouldn’t be that man. He was bastard enough already, it was true, but he wouldn’t compound his mistakes. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to her and wished he hadn’t. The image of her would be burned behind his eyes for all eternity. She was leaning back against the wall, flushed and dishevelled, her dress almost to her waist. The sight of her made his heart skip, his body cry out, and it took all of his determination not to kiss her again. He was going to lose his mind.
“Come,” he said, keeping his voice gentle, aware that her own thoughts were as scattered and in turmoil as his own. He turned her around, helping her rearrange her dress, and tying the fastenings at the back. The damage to her hair was mostly hidden by the addition of her bonnet and August was aware of a strangely protective feeling as he tied the ribbons beneath her chin for her and did up the buttons of her spencer. “There,” he murmured with a smile. “Respectable once more.”
“I don’t feel very respectable,” she said, her voice still rather shaky.
August frowned as guilt and sorrow built in his chest. “You don’t regret it, do you?” he asked, wondering why her answer mattered so much.
To his relief, her eyes widened and she laughed. “No. How could I possibly regret it?” She sighed
, a warm look in her eyes that ought to have disturbed him. “Thank you, August.”
He told himself he was just being polite as he leaned in and kissed her again. Only a brush of his lips against hers, all that the wretched bonnet would allow for. Yet he felt something shift in his chest as he moved away. “The pleasure was all mine, I assure you,” he replied, meaning every word. She beamed at him and her smile caught him, making it impossible not to return it in full. “Are you going to Mrs Grant’s tonight?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, and he refused to dwell on why it was that made something in him relax.
“I’ll see you there then.” He stared at her, his attention caught by one unruly curl that had managed to escape her bonnet. August reached out, tucking it back out of sight. “You’d best go, then.”
She nodded, though he was heartened by the regret in her eyes. With a brief wave of her hand she turned and left. Leaving him alone in the dark of the grotto.
Chapter 9
“Wherein our hero and heroine suffer shocking revelations.”
Patience was having a ball.
She rarely danced, most men unwilling to ask her as she was so tall, often taller than them. Tonight, however, she’d been almost danced off her feet. She’d laughed and had some rather wonderful conversations with all manner of people, and she felt really quite exhilarated. What had happened to her, she really couldn’t say. What had changed that meant that people sought her out, that men looked at her in a different way than before? She only knew that since leaving August she felt like she was walking on air.
Mrs Grant and her husband Colonel Grant were not exactly good ton, though the Colonel was respectable enough. Mrs Grant, however, was the daughter of a cit and heiress to a vast fortune. She was also funny and generous and had extremely good taste, so the ton were gracious enough to overlook her lack of breeding for long enough to attend her rather sumptuous parties.
Patience even had a new gown for the occasion. For once, she’d allowed her step-mother to guide her, bearing August’s comments in mind. It was a pale gold satin, with a great deal of heavy gold and bronze coloured thread, and for the first time in her life she felt … well, rather pretty, actually. Not like Caro, of course, there was no getting away from the fact that she’d never be a beauty. Her nose was too large and her mouth was too wide to have any pretensions in that direction. Add to that the fact that her disposition was too challenging, she was too tall and far too generously proportioned. She always felt like a monster next to all the dainty little creatures around her in their pastel pinks, but not tonight. Tonight she didn’t care about any of that, or of how plain she was next to Caro. She was simply having fun. For the first time she could remember, she felt good about herself in such dazzling company, confident … happy. The realisation that August had truly desired her, even if only for a short time and after allowing him the most shocking liberties imaginable, well, it had awakened something in her. She may be on the shelf for good, she may never be a beauty or the height of fashion, but who cared? She was alive, truly alive for the first time in her life, and she meant to enjoy every second of it.
“Oh, Patience, you do look beautiful,” Caro said for at least the fifth time that evening. Not that Patience was tired of hearing it, but still, she felt her step-sister might be laying it on a bit thick. She laughed, shaking her head and feeling her curls dance at the movement. Turning, she surveyed the grand ballroom where the cream of Bath’s society were gathered. Now, even though the London season was still in full swing, there was an increasing amount of society to be had as more people tired of the heat and stench of the city as the temperatures rose.
Patience looked back at Caro as she felt a hand on her arm and her attention was directed to two gentlemen who were approaching them. One, a young man in his mid-twenties, had eyes only for Caro, which was no surprise at all. He was a Mr Randulf and had been one of the young men invited to their picnic. Standing beside him, however, and rather more surprising, was a man Patience did not recognise, and he was staring at her. For a moment, she wondered if she had dirt on her face or something equally humiliating, but as they approached the fellow smiled at her.
Patience swallowed, suddenly nervous. He was very tall, taller even than August, and heavily built, with thick dark hair and grey eyes. Though not handsome, he certainly had an air about him. Patience put him in his mid-thirties and found she approved his no nonsense and rather severe manner of dress. Mr Randulf, who aspired to fashion and was something of a dandy, really looked rather foolish beside him with his garish waistcoat, ridiculously high collars, and jangle of fobs.
“Miss Pearson, Miss Bridges,” Mr Randulf greeted them before turning to his tall friend whose eyes had not left Patience. “Please, would you allow me to introduce my friend, Mr Stephen St John.”
Patience and Caro both greeted him, and after a few moments of obligatory small talk, she was rather surprised when Mr St John asked her to dance.
“I’d be pleased to, thank you,” she said with a smile, writing his name in her dance card and rather taken aback by the intense look in his grey eyes. He bowed and moved away with his friend.
“Well,” Caro said, looking triumphant. “You’ve made a conquest there, I’d say.”
Patience snorted and gave Caro a fond look. “It’s only a dance, Caro, he didn’t go down on one knee.”
Caro pursed her lips, watching as Mr St John moved away, and then looked over at Patience one again. “No,” she admitted, her tone thoughtful. “Not yet, at least.” She cast Patience an impish smile as her next dance partner drew her away. Patience laughed, shaking her head.
“Whatever has happened to you?”
Patience felt her heart skip in her chest as she turned around to see Cilly staring at her in astonishment. “W-whatever do you mean?” she demanded, feeling a rush of dread wash over her at her step-mother’s rather direct gaze. Surely her she couldn’t have discovered where she’d been that afternoon, and who with?
Cilly took her hand and squeezed, a look of such fondness in her blue eyes now that Patience felt ever more perplexed.
“I’ve never seen you like this, is all,” Cilly replied, shaking her head. “I’ve wanted for so long to see you happy, to see you grab life with both hands and live to the full, and yet … this is the first time I’ve ever really seen it happen.”
“I don’t know,” Patience said, laughing too loud as her heart skittered in her chest. “It’s just such a lovely evening.”
Cilly continued to scrutinise her, fixing Patience with a look that seemed to penetrate into her very soul, her blue eyes unblinking. “You know,” she said, her voice careful as she tilted her head a little to one side, considering. “If I didn’t know better … I’d say you were in love.”
***
August threw his hand aside, the cards were not with him tonight and he couldn’t afford to lose. He’d managed to break even, at least, and he’d have to be content with that. Leaving the card table, he went to get himself another drink. He didn’t really know why he was hiding in this male domain, along with Colonel Grant himself. The man couldn’t abide dancing, so to placate him, his wife always set up a quiet room where the men could escape to play cards.
He ought to be out there fixing his interest with Miss Bridges, not allowing every young buck in Bath to get a head start. Yet Patience was out there, too, and … There was a nervous, unsettled feeling in his chest that he didn’t like one bit. It had been there ever since she’d left him alone in the grotto, and it was only getting worse. He told himself that it was just unfulfilled desire, and there was certainly that. Try as he might, he could not stop thinking about Patience, about the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her. He’d been half hard most of the day and it was damn well driving him to distraction.
Downing his drink with a curse, he gave himself a stern talking-to. This was ridiculous. Miss Pearson was his friend, nothing more, and he simply couldn’t afford to let a prize like Miss B
ridges slip from his grasp. August took a moment to ensure his cravat was still as pristine as when he’d left home, and headed into the fray.
It really was a crush. Mrs Grant must be delighted with the turn out, he thought with a grimace as he eased his way through the crowd.
“Lord Marchmain!” August turned as a rather beautiful young widow called out his name and sent him a flirtatious look. Damn. Mrs Morgan had been a brief affair last summer, but August had detached himself the moment she started getting too clingy. Smiling at her and cursing internally, he resigned himself to the inevitable and went to make polite conversation.
Ten minutes of tedious conversation and an obligatory dance later, and August managed to extricate himself from Mrs Morgan’s clutches. It was a strange thing, but he couldn’t for the life of him see what had so entranced him last year. She was certainly a pretty piece, but good Lord, she was dull. He’d hardly managed to get a word in edgewise between the inane chatter, and now his ears were ringing.
With a sigh, he looked around for Patience, because of course it was most likely that Miss Bridges would be with her, he reasoned. Moving forward through the crush as best he could, he took a moment to glance at the wallflowers, just in case Patience had joined their ranks, and discovered Miss Bridges. Alone.
“Miss Bridges?” he said, astonished to see the beautiful heiress hiding behind a potted palm.
“Oh, good evening, Lord Marchmain,” she replied, smiling at him.
“What on earth are you doing here?” he asked, looking at the arrangement of plump, spotty, and homely girls sitting, kicking their heels.
She gave a sigh, shaking her head. “Looking for a bit of peace and quiet, to be honest,” she said with a wan smile. “I have the most dreadful headache.”
“You poor thing,” August replied with a sympathetic smile whilst realising he was being handed his opportunity on a plate. “Would you like to go and get some air?”
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