He felt his body tighten in response to her words and wondered how much of the discomfort she was feeling had to do with the sight of that kiss, and the hunger it had raised in her. ‘Well, I expect that a well-bred young girl would find it an unusual and exciting thing to be kissed by a highwayman.’
Dru made a sound of displeasure and he imagined the bow of her lips, moist and waiting for him. ‘She is not so young, come to that. She has been out for two years, already. Nor do I find her particularly well-bred. She really is the most appalling gossip.’
‘And not too innocent,’ he supplied, slipping his hands around her waist. ‘It was quite clear to me, as I kissed her, that she knew exactly what to do with herself, from previous experience.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
So she wanted the details, did she? He smiled and obliged her, shifting his lips so they touched her ear. ‘She pressed close against me as I held her, to make sure that I could feel her breasts against my own body. She opened her mouth at the first touch of my lips, and took my tongue into it as though she could not get enough of me.’
Under his hands, he could feel the slight hitch in her breath as she listened. It had nothing to do with hisses of disapproval, and everything to do with salacious curiosity.
‘But she is a blonde. And fair-haired women are not to my taste.’ And he stroked up over her ribs and took her breasts in his hands.
She started. ‘That is not the area which was affected by riding.’
He stilled, but did not remove them. ‘One cannot treat one area of the body without seeing to the others, any more than one grooms just one leg of a horse.’ It was a most unromantic analogy, but she was not a particularly romantic female.
Her shoulders pressed into his chest and then relaxed. ‘I suppose that makes sense.’
‘You will find it quite satisfying, I promise.’
‘Well, then,’ she said again, ‘carry on with your story.’
‘Of course, Lady Drusilla.’ He stopped to wet his lips, allowing the tip of his tongue to accidentally stroke the shell of her ear and felt her hips settle against his in reward. She could feel him now, he was sure, for she was pressing herself against the growing desire he had for her. But she did not pull away from him, so he continued their game. ‘I meant to be gentle with her. Just a light touch of the lips and then I would be gone. But when a woman is willing, it is hard to resist.’
And the woman in his arms was giving her evidence of that, right enough. Her hands reached behind her to steady herself and gripped his thighs, sending another surge of desire through him.
‘So I held her firmly and thrust my tongue deep into her mouth over and over, until she was quite weak with it.’
And it had felt nothing like this. Drusilla was heavy in his hands, warm and round, and he thanked God to his very soul for the wonder of her, massaging gently, and then more vigorously until the nipples stood out hard against his palms. He pinched them easily between his fingers and felt her gasp in pleasure at his touch.
‘Oh.’ The word was little better than a moan, as she writhed against his body, and a cue that he must stop before things got out of hand.
‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked.
‘Somewhat.’ Her head was lolling back, now, against his shoulder. ‘But I do not wish you to stop, just yet.’ She turned enough so he could see her eyes half-closed in the moonlight and her lips relaxed and parted. ‘It was very wrong of Char to behave in that way,’ she said, pursing her lips and wetting them with her tongue.
He threw caution to the winds. ‘Perhaps you had best show me how a proper girl ought to react,’ he offered.
‘I do not know—if that is wise…’ she said, slowly and deliberately, as though she had over-imbibed and were trying to remember why it was that she should not agree. But even as she said it, she turned in his arms and lifted her face for a kiss.
‘For the purposes of edification, if nothing else,’ he whispered, and gathered her close to him, one hand around her waist, the other sinking his fingers into her hair. It was heavy, as he’d imagined it to be, still smelling faintly of soap, even after three days on the road. Her lips, when he touched them, were perfect. As soft and full as her breasts and with that same pucker to them.
If he stopped to look at them, they might seem to be set in disapproval. But on closer inspection, they were open slightly, ready and waiting, as the other girl’s had been. More hopeful than demanding, his Drusilla wanted a kiss as much as he longed to give her one.
And so he did, brushing her lips with his, and then licking deep into her mouth, settling there, as though he had a right to possess her. In response, her hands came up to touch his shoulders and she brought her body close to his, brushing her breasts against his chest as though she was not sure that she was doing it correctly.
He struggled to hold himself still, to allow her to grow used to the feeling of his mouth on hers. And to enjoy the feel of her kissing him back: the gentle touch of her tongue on his and the soft movements of her lips as they parted with his, to touch the line of his jaw.
When they reached his ear, she whispered, ‘You make me feel most unusual, Mr Hendricks.’
He could feel, in her sweet and uneven breaths against his hair, that she desired him, just as he did her. ‘The way you feel is the most natural thing in the world and nothing to be concerned about.’
‘The fact that something is natural does not mean there is no cause for concern,’ she said.
‘Very logical of you, Lady Drusilla,’ he answered and laughed to himself that she would even try to think at a moment like this. But it was very her, and very appealing, and it only made him want to touch her all the more. ‘Does it frighten you?’
He had found his question aright if he wanted to urge more passion from her—he ought to know by now that there was nothing that frightened this woman. At least nothing that she might admit to. ‘Certainly not. I only wonder if it is a wise course of action.’
‘Probably not,’ he admitted.
‘But it is…’ she wet her lips and touched them to his earlobe ‘…quite pleasant. And I suppose, as long as we are still standing and not lying down together…’
‘Which we will not,’ he assured her.
‘And we are both fully dressed…’
‘Which we will remain,’ he added, swearing to himself that it was true and realising that she must understand very little of what he could accomplish without breaking either of her restrictions.
‘Then it cannot be so very bad.’ She then smiled against his skin.
‘That is good. For I am not ready to let you go.’ He kissed her again, dragging his lips along the curve of her jaw, to her throat and shoulder, and back up again, until his lips were resting beside her ear and he could whisper back to her, ‘May I touch you again?’
‘Please do.’
Then he let his hands go where they wished, exploring every inch of her that he could reach. Firm breasts. Tiny waist. Flat belly. He let his thumb sink into the dent that was her navel and imagined joining with her. Round bottom. Soft lush thighs. He pushed his hand between them and imagined those thighs wrapped around his waist. Then he cupped her womanhood, pressing his palm upwards, squeezing it possessively, feeling the heat of her in his hand and envisioning how she would look if he undid the drop of his breeches. ‘Does this do anything to ease your suffering?’ For it was increasing his, sure enough.
He waited for her to struggle free of his grasp, but instead her hands reached out to grasp his biceps to steady herself and she pushed back against his palm, groaning at the increased sensation. ‘That is the spot, exactly,’ she said, clearly amazed that he had guessed. And then added, ‘Perhaps, a little less gently.’
‘Very well, Lady Drusilla.’ He looked into her
eyes and smiled, then allowed himself the freedom to stroke more vigorously, imagining the flesh heating and growing damp at his touch. She closed her eyes. But her lashes still fluttered, as though she could not control them, and her neck arched ever so slightly as she caught her lower lip in her teeth. ‘More?’ he asked, leaning close and letting his breath caress her skin.
But she was quite beyond speech at this point, lost in the beginnings of a wordless response to his touch. She gave the barest nod of encouragement. In a few more strokes of his hand, her lips were trembling, open, moist and perfect. And so he kissed her roughly, pulling her body to meet his, safely separated by their clothing as he thrust himself against her and imagined being inside her, surrounded by her, consumed.
Her tongue came to life, darting against his in frenzy as her hands tightened on his arms. He was desperately hard and more than half-wishing that he had not started a game that could not end in his own satisfaction, but equally happy to have his supposed employer gasping into his mouth and pressing her sex eagerly against his as though she could not get enough of him. And he felt the moment that she lost the last of her control and came for him, breaking the kiss in a desperate bid for air as her back arched and her body went limp, swooning in his arms.
He held her like that for a moment, almost lifeless. And he brushed the hair from her eyes and thought, I did this to you. And it was the first time. ‘Dru,’ he said softly, loving the sound of the word.
She took a great, smiling, shuddering breath.
Then she realised how she had behaved and was shaking off the near-swoon and pushing away from him, brushing hands down to straighten the skirts that she was not wearing, trying to pull together the injured dignity of Lady Drusilla Rudney and pretend that she was still in charge. ‘What was that?’ The words were said with a stern frown as though her own physical response to his touch was somehow a trick that had been played upon her.
He gave her a benign smile. ‘That was a perfectly normal, physical reaction.’
‘To your kiss?’
‘I suspect it had more to do with the way the breeches were fitting, and my—’ he glanced down and then quickly back up at her outraged face ‘—ministrations in that area. You will find you feel much more relaxed, now that the moment has passed. And you can just as easily perform the actions yourself, should you feel the need again.’
‘Certainly not.’
‘Or I will continue to help you, if you wish.’ He smiled, thinking that it was unlikely anyone would give him a reference should they find out what had happened and deciding that he did not care one whit who her father was, or what it might do to his career. He would not take back a moment of what had gone on between them.
‘You know that is not what I meant at all,’ she snapped. ‘I would prefer not to feel this way. Certainly not ever again.’
The thought that she would not want to experience unbridled response was disheartening. But by the look in her angry eyes, Lady Drusilla had no real complaints with the way he performed his duties. There was a softness in them that she was trying very hard to hide from him.
‘I feel unsettled. Even, after…the improper thing you just did to me.’ Then she added in a whisper, ‘It is as if I have forgotten to finish a task. And I do not know, for the life of me, what it is.’
If he was not careful, he would have those breeches off her and lay her down in the grass right now to help her remember. He was a careless fool and this had been a mistake. A horrible lapse of judgement. It was the first step on a journey that he would never be allowed to take.
He caught her warm brown eyes with his gaze and held them. ‘I am afraid you are quite as finished as I can allow you to be, Lady Dru. Pleasurable though it would be, I do not dare show you the rest. I apologise for my behaviour,’ he said, taking the burden of the indiscretion upon himself. ‘It will not happen again and we need never speak of it. We will treat it as if it never occurred, if you wish.’
He was backing away from her now and it felt as if he were backing away from the act itself. Do not make me go.
‘Thank you,’ she said, her voice brittle.
‘I had best see to the horses. And you…can take this to prepare a bed.’ He tossed her a blanket from his pack. ‘You will find the hay is quite comfortable. And I will just… The horses…’ And he turned from her, stumbling towards the horses and wading into the icy cold stream.
Chapter Ten
It will not happen again.
That was rather a shame, she thought, as Dru gathered the blanket to her body and went to shoo the cow from the hay. The less sensible part of her wanted to demand an immediate repeat of the experience.
All she had wanted was a kiss. And she had assumed that, if she allowed him, that was all he would take, as he had with Char. But she had underestimated Mr Hendricks, just as she had from the first. Things had got quite out of hand. And while he had claimed that what he was doing was meant for edification and was merely meant to assist her in being comfortable, she suspected that there was much more to it than he had let on.
But she was not likely to know what had occurred without further experimentation and questioning of the man. What had happened was so pleasant that she was quite sure it must be unusual, unhealthy or improper. She sighed. Many things that were pleasant seemed to fall into those categories.
But, if this was what came of wearing trousers, then it explained much of what she had heard of men and their insatiable desires. There had been nothing in Mr Hendricks’s other behaviour that had made her think of a man crazed by lust. But her governesses had assured her that all men became so on the least provocation.
Of course, they had been quite sketchy on the details of what such a mania might entail. But she was sure that there would be some obvious sign of it. In any case, she doubted that she was the sort of female that would engender such emotions. Especially not attired in muddied breeches and smelling slightly of horse.
Still, it would be nice to know. And to imagine what it would be like to drive Mr Hendricks mad. Because, if there was an answering madness, she suspected that she might be experiencing some of the symptoms. It was probably all the fault of the breeches.
The idea that they would be sleeping side by side again tonight made her… She shook her head in disgust. It made her want to giggle. To simper, just as girls did in the retiring room after having had a waltz with a particularly handsome gentleman. There was nothing about the current situation that should be so amusing. Or even give rise to the sort of nervous tittering that other girls engaged in.
Sleeping beside him was a necessary evil of the trip, a way to share warmth without laying a fire. Or at least it had been, until he had touched her. Her body resonated like rung crystal. And it proved that, no matter what she had feared, he did not think of her as genderless. He knew she was a woman and had apparently given the matter some thought. The look in his eyes had been confident, knowing and faintly amused. It had been there in the kiss as well, as though he had known what to expect from her mouth and her body. He had seen potential in her and had sought to develop it.
After, he had looked as she had felt: utterly confused. As he had promised, she was relaxed, more sure of herself and her surroundings. But he looked tense. Nervous. Unable to meet her eyes. And she had ruined everything by being harsh with him, scolding and pretending that she had not wanted exactly what he’d given her.
And then he had hurried away from her with muttered excuses about seeing to the horses. If she did not change her tone with him, it was unlikely that he would share the blanket with her at all tonight. He would go to sleep beside his horse and she would sleep alone.
Tomorrow, they would ride on, she would find Priss and they would take her back to London. She would explain to her father what had occurred and Mr Hendricks’s part in it. Omitting certain details, o
f course. He would be paid and she would see to it that he received a polite but vague letter of thanks and recommendation for his help in handling a delicate matter with utmost discretion.
Then he would go. And she would never see him again. All the anxiety of the previous days came flooding back to her at once. What was she to do without him?
The same things she had always done, of course. She would manage herself and those around her. She would raise her chin, standing firm in the face of all the nonsense her family was capable of, and put up with her father’s endless disapproval. She would put her needs to one side in the vain hope that, some day, things would be settled and she would have time for herself.
For the first time since childhood, she wanted to stamp her foot and cry. Sometimes, she worried that there would never be more to her life than what she already had, an endless string of duties and loneliness. In the moment she had kicked the strange man seated across the carriage from her, the burden of responsibility had been lifted. Now she did not want to take it back. It would be even more difficult to return home, knowing that there was a wonderful world of experience that she had sampled just one small corner of.
She wanted him to come back, so she could put her arms around his neck and pull him down into the haystack. Then she would demand that he tell her everything. He must teach her to touch him in the way he had touched her, right to the very soul, until he was lying beside her, as happy and sated as she felt.
She wanted him to assure her that there was more between them as well, that it didn’t have to end in a week, with a discreet thank you and a return to their normal stations.
She bundled the blanket in her arms and set off towards the trees to find him. ‘Mr Hendricks!’
He was leaning against a tree, eyes closed and at peace, almost as if he meant to sleep standing up. But when he realised she was near, he started in panic, glancing around himself as though he thought to run. ‘Lady Drusilla.’
‘Mr Hendricks,’ she said, more gently. ‘I wish to retire. Will you be joining me on the haystack this evening?’ It sounded ridiculously formal. But what else did one say, at a moment like this?
Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin Page 10