"No," he said. "It wouldn't be appropriate for us to be together. Indeed, if we stay out here much longer, we will surely become an object of speculation."
"Would that be so terrible?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" He was half afraid of her answer.
"If my reputation were tarnished, perhaps I would not then be troubled by any more unwanted suitors."
"You are quite mistaken in me if you think I would do such a thing," he replied tersely.
She had no idea the torture she was putting him through. What she'd just implied, that she was willing to be compromised, was pushing him perilously close to the breaking point. He was an honorable man, but a man nevertheless—made of flesh and blood.
"I'm sorry." She bit her lip. "It was a foolish thing to say. But I am no one. Why would anyone bother themselves with me?"
"You don't understand how it is," he said. "This world is full of malicious people, Mariah. To those who live meaningless lives, spreading gossip and fomenting scandal is the ultimate in entertainment."
"I have nothing in common with such people," she said. "I hate falseness and malice. I'm very sorry I came here."
"Are you?" he asked softly. "I'm not. If you hadn't come, I never would have had the delight of getting to know you, and that would have been a tragedy for me."
"But what does it matter? It's unlikely that we'll ever see each other again after tomorrow."
His gaze narrowed. "After tomorrow?"
"Yes. In the morning, I intend to pack my belongings. I'm returning to Morehaven."
"You're leaving?"
"Yes. I am needed at home."
“But you can't leave so soon," he protested. "I promised to teach you about cricket. I could never break my word to a lady. I have my reputation to protect."
His effort at levity only seemed to annoy her. “Your reputation?" She gave a snort of indignation. "Is that all that matters to you, Mr. Needham? What others think?"
"Not at all," he replied. "In truth, most of them can go to the devil for all I care."
"Then why are you afraid to be alone with me?" she asked softly.
"I'm only trying to protect you from those who live to destroy others," he answered.
His chest squeezed as her gaze grew misty. "I don't belong here. Don't you understand? Can you even imagine how it feels to be sought out only because you have property and a fortune? How will I ever know if someone actually cares for me?"
Nick stifled a groan. The anguish in her beautiful blue-green eyes unraveled his last threads of self-restraint. He drew her into his arms, knowing he was making a mistake, maybe the biggest of his life, but the kiss was his fate. It was as inevitable as the rising sun and as unstoppable as the ocean tide.
"How will you know?" He moved in slowly, deliberately, until their faces were mere inches apart, until the sweet sough of her breath caressed his face. He couldn't hold himself back now if his next breath depended on it. "This is how."
Cupping her face with both hands, he finally claimed the soft, sweet lips that had tormented him since he'd seen her in Lady Russell's garden. Her kiss was the tenderest torture. Although unschooled, her lips were indescribably sweet. He wanted to lose himself in the drugging pleasure of them forever. He resisted the urge to probe with his tongue, knowing if he took this any further, he'd never be able to pull away, and he had to. He couldn't let it go on. One long and lingering kiss was all he would allow himself . . . because anything more could never be enough.
***
As Nick's warm hands held her face, Mariah shut her eyes, wishing for the kiss with all of her being. His musk-and-bergamot scent wafted over her, teasing her senses just before his lips brushed over hers. It was her first kiss, and he was the only man she'd ever dreamt of kissing. Soft and warm, delicious and divine, his mouth moved over hers, sending rapturous ripples racing through her body. Was there ever anything more wonderful than his kiss? Their mingling breaths made her light-headed and giddy, and she wanted it to go on and on forever, but just as she thought he would deepen the kiss, he slowly disengaged and withdrew. She opened her eyes to find him staring back with a dazed look.
"Lady Mariah," he began helplessly, "I am so sorry. I never should have—"
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because it's dishonorable when I can't offer you marriage."
"But I told you I don't wish to talk of marriage. I don't wish to talk at all. I only want you to kiss me again. Please, Nick," she pleaded softly. "Will you kiss me again?"
He shook his head and mumbled, "I'm sorry." Turning abruptly away, he strode toward the terrace door.
Her stomach knotted at the realization that she'd just thrown herself at a man who'd only kissed her out of pity. How could she have been so stupid to think he might care for her? Her throat and eyes burned. This entire night was just too much to bear. She tried to hold back the tears, but suddenly it was impossible to keep them at bay. Stifling a sob, she gathered up her skirts and fled down the stairs and into the gardens.
***
His chest heaving, Nick stood with his back to the terrace door. He'd done the right thing, the honorable thing. Yet he'd never felt like a bigger cad in his entire life. He'd left her alone on the terrace with kiss-swollen lips and rejection in her eyes. He stationed himself at the door, determined to watch over her from a safe distance until she came back in, but the seconds drew into minutes. His concern for her grew as the minutes lengthened to a quarter hour. Why had she not come in? Should he go back and escort her inside?
He was deliberating just that when Lady Russell approached with a look of censure. "My dear Needham, where is your coat?"
His coat? He looked down to find himself in shirtsleeves and waistcoat. He hadn't even realized he'd forgotten it. "I gave it to Lady Mariah," he said.
"To Lady Mariah? Why on earth would she need a gentleman's coat?"
"She desired some air and had no shawl."
The furrow between her brows deepened. "You let her go into the night unescorted?"
"She is only on the terrace, my lady. I thought it best, for propriety's sake, to wait for her here."
"Then you are a fool, Needham."
"Excuse me?"
"What young woman wants to be alone on a moonlit terrace? Indeed, we are both fools, for I never should have encouraged her to accept Rochford."
"Why is that?" he asked. "He's one of the most eligible bachelors in England."
"Who I have every reason to believe is presently cavorting with Lady Cumberbatch. She pled a headache a while ago and left the card tables. Shortly after that, Rochford also disappeared in her direction. It is no secret they were once lovers. I do not believe that Mariah has the temperament to suffer such a marital arrangement. She desires affection and fidelity, and I don't believe Rochford is capable of either. You, however . . ."
"Me?" he repeated, aghast. "What are you suggesting? You know my circumstances."
"Pshaw! A man's circumstances can change, Needham—especially given proper motivation."
Proper motivation? What did that mean?
"Dear me, it grows late." She suppressed a yawn. "I do believe I should like to retire now. Would you be so kind as to retrieve my errant charge? I won't rest unless I am assured she is in your safe hands."
His safe hands? He wasn't sure how to respond to that, but Lady Russell tripped away before he could answer.
Determined only to escort Mariah back inside, he spun to the terrace door and opened it. Bloody, bloody hell. She was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
"For present joys are more to flesh and blood
Than a dull prospect of a distant good."- John Dryden
THROUGH EYES BLURRED WITH TEARS, Mariah navigated the meandering gravel path to the ornamental fountain at the garden's center. Her sobs gradually diminished to an occasional sniff. She sat on the stone bench to remove a pebble that had worked its way into her slipper and then shut her eyes in an effort to lose herself in the trickling
tranquility of the cascading fountain. Although now cloaked in darkness, she was still close enough to catch occasional snatches of music and ripples of laughter escaping from the house. After a few minutes, she became aware of the crunch of gravel under someone else's feet.
"Lady Mariah?"
She sucked in a gasp. It was him. Why couldn't he just leave her be? She wished she could hide, or even better, that the earth would just open up and swallow her. "Please leave me, Mr. Needham," she whispered without turning to face him. "I wish to be left alone."
"No, Mariah," he spoke to her back. "The terrace was one thing, but this is quite another. It's not safe for you to be alone out here. Lady Russell has already retired and asked me to escort you back inside."
"But I told you I don't wish to retire until my cousin arrives."
"Well, I shan't leave you out here alone," he insisted.
"You contradict yourself," she replied peevishly. "Less than an hour ago, your greatest fear was for anyone to find us together."
"I told you I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me? I don't understand you at all. If you were so very concerned over my virtue, why did you kiss me in the first place?"
"Why? Because I bloody well couldn't help myself."
"Are you a rake, Mr. Needham?" she asked pointedly.
"Me? A rake?" he asked in a burst of laughter. "I may be flawed in many ways, but I assure you I have never in my life set out to debauch a virgin."
"Then why would you lead me to believe you cared for me?"
Her heart galloped as he reached out a finger to stroke the side of her face. "I do care for you. I have never felt this way for any woman before." He added with an anguished look, "But nothing can come of it."
The heart that beat so wildly in her chest at the touch of his hand now lodged painfully in her throat. "But why—"
"I've explained why," he said. "But now that I sit beside you and gaze into your eyes, all of the reasons that made perfect sense only minutes ago seem to make little sense at all. I can't stop thinking about our kiss, and the temptation to do it again is driving me half-mad."
"Yet you found it easy enough to break away."
"No, it wasn't easy at all." He cupped her cheek with his warm palm. "It was agony, Mariah. Every second that I remain here with you, my will grows weaker." His gaze fixed upon her mouth. "And the temptation to kiss you again only grows stronger."
His answer made her heart swell. She succumbed to the urge to lean into his hand, rubbing her cheek against it like a happy cat. "Then if I asked you to, would you do it?" She licked her lips. "Would you please kiss me again, Nick?"
He shut his eyes on a groan, and her throat thickened at the thought that he might reject her again. But then his hand brushed over her cheek to cup her jaw. Her whole body quivered in anticipation as he slid his palm to the back of her head and pulled her to him. Her breath hitched when his lips met hers, at first brushing over them in a warm caress. She released a sigh of bliss as they slanted over hers. His sliding, nipping mouth sent fingers of warmth tingling through her entire body. He sucked lightly, pulling on her lower lip and gently nibbling with his teeth.
Then his tongue flicked and darted, teasing and tasting her lips. Understanding came quickly as he probed the seam of her mouth. The very moment she parted her lips, he slid his tongue into her mouth. The sensation of it touching and tangling with hers made her stomach flip. The kiss intensified into a frantic game of capture and release. She threaded her fingers through his thick, silky hair as his hands worked into hers, pulling it down and scattering pins.
Suddenly, she was on his lap, engulfed in the heat of his body and surrounded in his musky scent. Lips sliding, tongues tangling, moans mingling, she found herself plummeting into a place of pure pleasure. He cupped her face, and his tongue plunged deeper still. She was breathless, dizzy, drugged with the sensation of his hot, wet mouth, of his big, warm hands skirting up her sides to cup her breasts through her gown. She echoed his moan with a helpless whimper as he pulled away the fichu and reached into the top of her bodice to stroke her breasts.
His thumbs circled the tight buds of her nipples that pressed painfully against her stays, screaming to be freed. She whimpered his name when he broke the kiss and shuddered when his mouth sought the sensitive hollow behind her ear. He sucked lightly on her neck, sending another delicious frisson of sensation straight to the damp, throbbing region between her thighs. His hot mouth traveled the length of her neck to her collarbone in fevered kisses that overwhelmed her senses. Her passage pooled with wet warmth and ached with an empty agony.
When he reached for her laces, she knew she should pull away. It had already escalated well beyond an innocent kiss, but she was robbed of any will to stop him . . . or herself. With each tantalizing touch and every stolen breath, she succumbed a bit further, yielding to him by pieces.
He tugged impatiently at her laces and jerked at her bodice to free her breasts. Cupping them with his hands, he buried his face in the valley of white flesh, kissing and biting, rolling her tight peaks between his fingers. He drew a nipple into the moist heat of his mouth. She threw her head back with a sob, overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth pulling and suckling. The slow smolder that had begun low in her belly had combusted into flames.
***
Nick devoured her mouth like a starving man. He was already reeling like a drunkard, intoxicated by her eager response. Her breasts were fully exposed, and her eyes were wide with yearning. She arched her back with a needy sound that he eagerly answered, latching his seeking mouth onto a deliciously pebbled nipple. She moaned and clutched at his hair. He was on fire, burning with lust that he had no strength to control. He knew he needed to stop this madness, but every kiss and caress only pulled him deeper into the descent of desire. How could this be? She was a bloody virgin, for God's sake! Was he bewitched?
Once more seeking the sweetness of her lips, he kissed her deeply and passionately. As the musky scent of her arousal perfumed the air, he was powerless to resist the urge to reach beneath her skirts. Her petticoats whispered as he slid a hand beneath and then slowly upward over her silk stockings and beribboned garters to the even silkier flesh above. His pulse raced as he skirted over the smooth, warm skin of her thighs to caress his fingers through the soft, downy mass at her mons.
She shuddered in his arms as he explored further, gently stroking the contour of her nether lips and then sliding into the glorious wet heat of her slick folds. The erotic trance was broken by a gasp as she stiffened and broke away from his kiss. Her breasts heaved, and her eyes held a lost and bewildered look. "Wh-what are you doing?"
He pulled back a safe distance, willing a calm to the racing beat of his heart. "I'm sorry. I lost my head." His apology emerged as an anguished groan. "I never intended to take such liberties." He shook his head with a grimace of self-disgust, despising his own weakness. "Please forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," she said. "I wanted you to kiss me. I could have asked you to stop sooner, but my only desire was for your mouth, your hands, and your touch. But it became too much all at once. I can't comprehend what is happening, and that overwhelms and frightens me."
He reached for her again, taking her gently into his arms. "Sexual desire is a powerful force, Mariah. It has been known to topple kingdoms."
"I never could have believed the truth of that until now," she said.
"Precisely why I warned you to take great care. And now I feel like the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing."
"But you shouldn't . . . I mean, you didn't."
"No, but had you not spoken . . ."
"But I did speak, and you listened. That's all that matters."
"It cannot happen again," he said grimly. "I don't trust myself, and you shouldn't trust me either."
"But I do trust you," she countered softly. "Please, Nick, tell me what this means? I can't believe that this is always the way of it. I felt nothing at all when Lord Rochf
ord kissed my hand, yet I tremble at the merest touch of yours."
He took her small hand between his. Nick studied their clasped hands with a frown. He couldn't begin to comprehend his intense feelings for Mariah. The only certainty within his muddled mind was that he couldn't bear the thought of any other man having her. "I cannot ask for this hand, Mariah, but I beg that you not give it to another."
"I don't understand." Her brow furrowed. "Are you saying I should never marry?”
"I don't know what I'm saying," Nick confessed. "I feel as if my brain is completely fogged, but one thing is crystal clear. I do care for you. A great deal more than I could ever have believed possible on such short acquaintance, enough that I want you as my own."
"You must know I would have you." She brought his hand to lie over her left breast and held it there with her palm pressed against his. "Do you feel that, Nick?" It took effort to ignore the soft, sweet flesh under his hand to discern the beating heart beneath. "It beats only for you. I could never accept another knowing that you care for me."
"But I have nothing to offer you."
"I have all that I need," she said. "I do not need a husband to provide a home and security. I have those already."
"What kind of a man enters into such a union?" he scoffed.
"It is done all the time," she insisted. "Just look how many marriages are contracted purely for material gain. Why is it such an offense to your pride to accept it as part of the bargain?"
"Because pride and self-respect are all I have, Mariah. I will never sacrifice those, even for you. I could not look myself in the mirror if I did."
"Then you would choose to walk away from this? From me?"
"No," he said. "I will find a way."
"How?"
"I must accompany Marcus to the peace congress. Marcus's future in the Foreign Service hinges on the outcome, as does mine. It is my best chance for advancement. We laid the foundation for peace this past year at Breda. Should we succeed in bringing about an acceptable agreement for peace, new doors will certainly open to me."
A Pledge of Passion (The Rules of Engagement) Page 6