She lifted her head, a fresh blush dotting her cheeks as she met his gaze, still biting her bottom lip. He wanted to nibble on that damnably seductive lip with his own teeth, flick his tongue across the seam of her mouth. His groin tightened—how did she manage to be so sensual, all the damn time?
“I like that about you,” she admitted shyly. “Your honesty. And that you haven’t…ah, rogued around.”
She liked that he was inexperienced? If she knew that he’d waited all these years for her, would she still like it? Or would she be scared of the commitment being with him required? Hell, he’d kept silent for seven Seasons because the mere prospect of losing her as his friend was enough to keep him awake at night. She’d been his world for so long, and he’d been a bloody coward.
But he was a new man. A man who could be strong. Bold. Take what he wanted—and what he wanted was her. Always.
He took a step toward her, and then another, until he’d crossed the short length of the folly. His eyes never left her face, watching as her expression changed from bashful to cautious anticipation to—he prayed it was desire. Her bottom lip quivered, and she shivered, whether from his proximity or the coldness of the water, he didn’t know. He pulled her closer to him, until her cheek was snug against his chest, and his arm slung across her drenched back. The scent of her mixed with the rainwater, lulling him into a sense of peace he had never known.
“Everything about you is the best. You’re perfect, Claire,” he murmured, his chin resting atop her head. “Always have been. And when you do that thing with your lip, it takes everything in me not to pull you to me like this and…”
If he finished that sentence, if he told her everything he wanted to do with her…there’d be no going back. It was one thing to say he’d be bold, and another to do it.
“And?” She lifted her head, gazing up at him with lust-addled eyes.
He sucked in a breath, counted to ten to get his raging nerves under control, and took the next step. “And this,” he said, kissing her.
Softly, for this was his first kiss, and he had to learn the lay of the land. All he could think was that this was Claire, and he was kissing her, and if he died in that moment he would die the happiest of men. She tasted like raspberry and vanilla and everything that was good in his life.
After a minute, he pulled back, determined to give her a second to think about this, but she instead placed her hand behind his neck, bringing his head down closer to hers.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured, and then she pressed her lips to his.
Chapter 6
If this were madness, then Claire would happily submit to lunacy. Her wet fingers ran through Teddy’s hair as he returned her kiss, doing perfectly wicked things with his lips. He tasted of cinnamon and chicory coffee, a combination made headier since she knew how much he adored both things. The familiarity between them made this richer, more powerful. The most daring thing she’d done; for kissing Teddy redefined the paradigm she had known almost all her life. She’d been able to predict his actions, before.
But this—she had not accounted for this.
For even if it was not madness, it was surely scandalous, so she ought to pull back from him. She ought to do anything but hold him closer to her. Anything but return his kiss with equal fervor, the slide of his lips upon hers making her feel so good. Warmth slid through her body like the slow glide of honey, sticky sweet and intoxicating. Every sensation seemed heightened—his lips moving against hers in the most tantalizing rhythm; the rub of the fabric of his coat, her dress and stays against her oversensitive breasts.
She no longer shivered from the rain. With Teddy, every inch of her was on fire. The dress that moments ago had been mortifyingly thin now weighed thrice its weight, trapping her within its confines. Parting from Teddy to shed his jacket, she drew in a ragged breath and ran the pad of her thumb across her lips, swollen and chapped from his kisses. They stood across from each other, little distance between them. Outside of their safe haven, the rain continued to pour, but somehow the air seemed calmer, as if even the weather supported the idea of them being together.
He stared back at her, his shirt rumpled, his cravat hanging loosely from his neck. His lips were as red as hers were, and he breathed with full-bodied pants. But it was how he looked at her, the corners of his lips turned up in a slow, sensuous grin, his eyes dark. He watched her thumb drag across her lips and his hands balled into a fist, as though he had to stop her forcibly from snatching her hand away and replacing it with his lips.
He’d never looked at her like this before, as if he wanted to devour her for tea with some scones and clotted cream. She’d never, ever felt so utterly…wanted before.
“More?”
She could tell he was trying to sound nonchalant, but he’d edged closer to her, and he loomed above her. Now that she knew exactly how muscular his lanky body was, she couldn’t resist touching him. She couldn’t resist anything when it came to him, it seemed. Because when he wasn’t near her, the world was so harsh, and she lost all hope that she could conquer this curse. He made all those horrible memories go away.
When he kissed her, she was simply Claire, a girl lost in the pleasure of a boy’s touch, like so many girls before her.
“Yes.” She nodded as she stripped him too of his waistcoat, and then his cravat. “Much, much more.”
That was all it took to bring his lips crashing back down upon hers. He kissed her now with a ferocity she had not known he could possess, as if the seven Seasons of agony that they’d spent as simply friends—both wanting the other, but neither admitting it—had all combined in this moment to make parting impossible. His hands wove in her hair, angling her head so that he could take the kiss deeper. And when his tongue darted out against the seam of her lips hesitantly, she opened for him, and he somehow managed to increase the delicious tingles that had started in her core with each thrust of his tongue into her mouth.
She clutched at his shirt collar with both hands, wanting to tether herself forever to him. Certain, steady Teddy, who believed they could break the curse. Her sweet, loving Teddy, who made her want to think that her mother’s convictions had just been the words of a madwoman and not a factual prophecy of her fate. Stalwart Teddy, who had moved from her lips to plant kisses under her ear, finding a delicate spot at the base of her neck that made her shudder. As his tongue stroked that spot, his teeth nibbled at her ear, sending a shiver of bliss through her. She leaned into his touch, letting him anchor her to a new reality where her knees buckled instead of her mind.
She forgot to care that she should put a stop to this. She forgot to care about anything but the tenderness of his touches, the tentative but hopeful shine to his eyes as his hands dropped to the front of her dress.
“I’d like…I’d like to see you,” he said between ragged breaths, forever the gentleman, even in this. “If that’d be acceptable, I mean. It’s just we’ve waited so long and—”
“Teddy.” She silenced him with a finger to his lips. “For the love of unicorns, take my dress off.”
“Unicorns don’t exist,” he mumbled, as he spun her around to undo the back buttons of her dress. There were a few moments of fumbling in which he cursed her modiste and the current fashions, until the gown was open and gaping. She didn’t wait for him to push it off of her shoulders, doing so herself. The quicker she was free of it, the quicker he’d be back to her—and her fears would leave again. She had the distinct idea she was rushing toward disaster, but still she couldn’t bring herself to stop. All those promises she’d made to herself to not act on her love for Teddy faded when compared with the glorious torture that was his hands on her.
“You should never wear this damned thing,” he declared, as he unlaced her corset. When he’d pried the last lace from its eyelet, he tossed her stays onto the stone beneath them as though the very sight of it sickened him.
She nodded, giving him permission, and he took her heavy breast in his hand, fondling it. S
he bit her lip to hold in a moan as he flicked his thumb across her already pebbled nipple, the sensations almost too powerful to contain.
“You like that?” Teddy asked, searching her face.
She only nodded, because she couldn’t begin to form coherent thoughts. Then he turned her back around, his eyes widening and his jaw falling slack at the sight of her in just her chemise.
She began to regret this. He wouldn’t like what he saw. She started to try and cover herself with her hands, but he shoved her hands away in a quite demanding, quite un-Teddy way. She caved to him, letting him take his fill, wishing he’d say something and at the same time fearful that she wouldn’t measure up.
“Bloody, bloody, bloody hell,” he managed finally, his voice coming out far more strained than she was used to, with a deeper, huskier quality. A shiver went up her spine at the sound of it, combined with the groan he let out as he ran his hand down her side. “Claire, God, devil take me, God, Claire.”
She’d never been considered a diamond of the first water, even without her family’s dubious history. Her blond hair was too much like straw, and her features were far too ordinary and plain. But when Teddy looked at her, his voice so drenched with longing, she felt remarkable.
And she wanted his hands on her, now. Interrupting his perusal, she grabbed his hand and moved it on top of her breast. He laughed; a joyous sound that echoed through her body because it was so uniquely Teddy to laugh during this momentous event. Yet the smile on his face became something different as he backed her up against the side of the folly.
He ran his hand across her flesh, only the thin shift between them. Her body was quick to respond to his touch, her nipples hardening beneath his fingers.
“I read about this,” he told her solemnly, because of course Teddy had read up about sex. Teddy didn’t leave the house without seven reference books and a concrete plan. “But this, this is so much better.”
She was about to tell him she agreed, but he dropped his head, taking her breast in his mouth. His tongue darted out to wet her nipple, the pleasure of the slide of warmth across her wet chemise making it impossible to hold back her moan. She sounded far too wanton—her voice must have echoed, for it had stopped storming now, and surely the sound traveled.
But Teddy didn’t seem to care. If anything, her cry had spurred him on, because he’d moved on to her other breast, sucking her until she felt she might explode from the rush of delight. He started to move, but she reached out, pressing his head firmly to her before he could leave. Something was building in her, something more wonderful than anything she’d ever felt, and she’d be damned if she stopped now.
“Darling,” he murmured against her, his gaze flicking upward to her face. “I was thinking—if you’d be amendable—”
She released her hold on him. “Say what you want, Teddy, and I’ll do it. Anything.”
He gulped, clearly not prepared for such forwardness. “Ah. Uh. I’d like you to…ah.”
She grinned, encouraged by his earlier enjoyment of her wantonness. They were half-naked in the midst of a hedge maze, which must be the very definition of scandalous. Instead of stopping her, now that knowledge spurred her on. She became bolder, more certain of her own feminine prowess. “After twenty-three years of knowing you, I’ve finally left you speechless. Very well then. If you can’t tell me what it is you want, then I shall not do it.”
“You’re a devilish minx, did you know that?” His voice dipped lower again, the words almost a growl. Like gravel upon her skin, yet she wasn’t hurt—she was oh, so utterly aroused, for in one fell motion he pulled off his shirt. She slid a hand across his chest, investigating the tight, firm planes of his pectorals.
“Enough of that,” he growled, grabbing her hand and depositing it on the hardness in his breeches. “Touch me, woman.”
It was the most direct, concise order she’d ever heard him give, and it shattered every last bit of hesitation within her. To hell with her worries. To hell with her curse. To hell with everything that wasn’t this moment with him, with her trembling hands undoing the clasps of his breeches and taking him in hand. Because this was Teddy. Impossibly reasonable, clear-headed Teddy, who’d known her since she was a child in pantaloons and simple muslin, and had never once embarked on something so rash.
She couldn’t help but laugh then. She’d come to Castle Keyvnor convinced that she’d someday become like her mother, and here she was, about to make the worst decision of her life. Perhaps she really was mad.
Mad for Teddy.
She couldn’t convince herself to care, for her mind had firmly disengaged from her body and she went on impulse and instinct alone.
And her instincts knew just what to do. She turned them around, pushing him so that now his back rested against the railing. Wrapping her hands around him, she followed the rhythm he set as he guided her hand. His cock was smooth against her skin. Hard, so impossibly hard, and somehow that was comforting, another example of how unbending Teddy could be.
His head lolled back, his eyes half-closed, his breath uneven gasps. “Claire, my love, my Claire—” His voice broke off in a guttural moan, and suddenly he stopped her hand. “No more or I’m going to spill.”
She blinked at him, confused, her mind still half-focused on that term: love. God, how she wanted to be his love, his Claire, forever. “But I thought you were enjoying it.”
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “Oh, darling, trust me, I am. But I haven’t…I haven’t done this before. I was waiting. I should have done more research—”
She stopped him with a kiss. When he’d said before he hadn’t seen another woman’s breasts, she hadn’t taken him all that seriously. She’d assumed that maybe he’d been engaged in carnal acts where the woman hadn’t become completely unclothed. “Teddy, were you waiting for me?”
He nodded.
There should have been some sound, like bells or whistles, some indication that her last bit of resolve had dropped away. He’d waited for her, as she had for him, even when they hadn’t known how the other felt. It was so magnificently perfect that her heart ached at the realization.
She decided in the haze of want that she would have him, tonight. Only tonight. When they left here, he would go on to marry a proper woman, one who could be his countess. That other woman would get his estate and bear his children and spend the rest of her life with him, but she, Claire, she’d get to be Teddy’s first.
She’d have that memory to console her in her cell at Ticehurst.
“I waited for you too,” she told him. “And I want you.”
“Are you sure?” He squeezed her hand. “I mean, obviously, I want to…”
“Tonight, only.” She vowed this more as a promise to herself than him. Tomorrow she’d recommit herself to the idea of him leaving without her. “And we must take precautions—”
He nodded. “I understand.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. He understood. If no child was conceived, then she could be with him this one night, without fear. He must know there could be nothing else between them, when he’d discovered the commonalities in her mother and aunt’s illnesses.
This seemed like perfect logic in her lust-addled state.
She longed for him more than anything she’d ever desired. And hell’s bells, she would have him. For tonight only.
Teddy took charge, spreading out his somewhat dry coat onto the stones and easing her down onto it. She slipped the chemise over her head, and he worked his trousers down carefully over his erection.
“I love you, Claire,” he said, splintering her heart further. “I’m sorry if this hurts. The books said there would be pain. I’ll try to last long enough for it to be good for you, all right?”
She nodded, unable to return his vow. She did love him, with everything she had. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t loved him. But if she said it…it would be so much harder to leave.
He laid a kiss upon her brow,
guiding himself to her opening. She felt a tightness as he entered her, but her body adjusted to his girth. It was not so bad, she thought. “Hold on to me,” he murmured, grasping her hand in his. And then he pushed, quick and hard, and pain sliced through her haze.
It was done. She wasn’t a maiden any longer. Not that it would matter, because she’d only ever wanted Teddy, and after tonight she knew no one else would ever do. She’d never be able to marry him. Never have his children.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” Teddy said, through clenched teeth. She felt his coiled muscles, so tense, holding himself off.
The pain had become a sting now. Uncomfortable, but tolerable. She pushed it to the back of her mind along with her worries about her ill-fated sanity and nodded. She clung to his hand as he thrust; that delicious feeling from earlier returning, but stronger this time. With each thrust, the tingles increased, until she was grasping his hand with all she had. He grunted out his pleasure, thrusting deep within her.
Pleasure flooded through her and she cried out, just as he pulled from her, spilling on the ground next to them. She had not thought to address that, and as her euphoria ebbed she was relieved he’d thought to take precautions. Just in case the curse did affect her once she was with child. At least now there was not that chance.
Then he came back to her, laying his head on her shoulder, working to get his breathing back under control. “It’ll get better,” Teddy told her, a bit apologetically. “Longer, I mean. I’ll know what I’m doing more.”
The remaining pieces of her heart shattered into irreparable shards. There could never be another time. But now, she’d let Teddy have this moment. “It was perfect.”
He propped himself up on his elbow and grinned at her. “You’re just saying that because you don’t know any different. Give me a few tries, love, and I’ll make you scream out my name and see stars.”
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