Wedding Night With the Earl

by Amelia Grey

  She inhaled sharply, realizing she’d expected him to deny the gossip about him.

  “My turn,” he said, not giving her much time to recover from his confession. “Have you ever tried to dance?”

  She moistened her lips, and the cold air dried them immediately. “That question is way too easy to answer, my lord. No.”

  “Would you like to try?”

  To dance?

  She hedged. “That’s two questions.”

  “You asked two,” he reminded her.

  She had. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know that London’s ton had nicknamed him the beast. Swallowing her concern, she said, “All right, no. Wait. I mean yes, of course, yes, I’d like to try, but isn’t it obvious why I can’t?”

  There was a glow of something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in them before. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like anticipation or maybe hope.

  The earl stepped closer and bent his head toward hers. “I believe I can teach you.”

  “What?”

  Was he teasing her? Mocking her? Maybe he was a beast. Didn’t he know how vulnerable she was when it came to her injury? But how could he? He didn’t know that since she’d fallen down the stairs when she was nine years old and reinjured her leg, she hadn’t taken a step without her cane. She couldn’t.

  A cold, hard chill shook her body and she gathered her shawl about her neck once more. “No.” She leaned heavily on her cane and backed away from him. “You have no right to even suggest you could do that.”

  “Maybe not a quadrille, but I could teach you to waltz. A slow one. I would hold you firmly but properly, and gently guide you.”

  “I said no. Now, excuse me. It’s late, I should go inside.”

  Lord Greyhawke took hold of her upper arm when she tried to pass him and stopped her from leaving. His hand was firm, warm, possessive. “I know I can teach you, Miss Wright. Right here, right now on your front lawn, if you will let me.”

  She moved as if to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he held her tighter, letting her know he was in control and she would go nowhere until he was ready to release her.

  The very thought of his proposal caused her stomach to twist into a knot. “No,” she whispered above the roaring in her ears.

  The earl held out his other hand to her. “Trust me,” he said in a persuasive tone.

  Trust him?

  “Give me the cane,” he said again.

  His confidence, his audacity, amazed her. Moonlight shadowed his handsome face, but her eyes searched his for a reason for his preposterous claim that he could teach her to dance. She struggled to free herself again.

  “Why are you doing this? Let go of me. You’re being cruel for no reason. You know I can’t dance.”

  “I don’t know that, and if you haven’t tried, neither do you. You have a choice to make, Miss Wright. You can either give me the cane or I’m going to kiss you.”

  Katherine stopped struggling and stared at him in disbelief. Her senses whirled at the very idea of a kiss from the man. “We are practically strangers.”

  “You don’t seem like a stranger to me.” He looked down at his hands on her arms. “You don’t feel unfamiliar beneath my grasp.”

  For a long moment, their gazes held. She wasn’t sure what he was doing to her, but she agreed. He didn’t appear a stranger to her either. “You wouldn’t.”

  Lord Greyhawke leaned his face close to hers. “Of course I would, Miss Wright. I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night.”

  He wanted to kiss her?

  Katherine’s hand tightened on the handle of the cane. Her breath seemed to collect and pool in her throat.

  “You’d rather I kiss you than give up your walking stick.”

  Would she? Tension such as she had never experienced before swirled and sparked between them.

  Silently she digested what he said as a tingling awareness gripped her. She hoped the turmoil she was feeling inside didn’t show in her eyes or on her face. From the moment she’d first looked up and seen him standing in front of her, there had been an inexplicable, unrelenting attraction between them.

  Finally, she drew in a long, uneven breath and said, “I’m not afraid of a kiss, my lord.”

  Continuing to watch her carefully, he said, “So you’ve been kissed before?”

  Her chin lifted defiantly. “No, but the thought of it doesn’t trouble me. I’ve always expected to be kissed one day.” But she had never expected to dance.

  “Afraid to dance but not frightened to be kissed by a man they call the beast? That makes you very intriguing, Miss Wright.”

  He moved his face so close to hers, Katherine thought for sure he was going to kiss her. Shivers of dread and anticipation coursed through her and mingled together so rapidly that she didn’t know which emotion would be the victor.

  Instead of placing his lips on hers, he hesitated and said, “How can I refuse such a tempting invitation?”

  Tightness bound her chest, and for a fleeting second she felt she was close to swooning for the first time in her life. Her knees were quivering, but not from the cold or from standing for so long. Was he or wasn’t he going to kiss her?

  And did she want him to or didn’t she? All she really knew was that she’d never met a gentleman who stirred her senses the way Lord Greyhawke had.

  She took in a shaky breath and managed to say, “That wasn’t an invitation.”

  His lips hovered so close to hers, it was as if she could already feel them. Anticipation had won.

  “It was. You are seducing me and I accept that. What I haven’t decided is whether or not you know you’re doing it.”

  Lord Greyhawke threw his hat toward the front gate and with one fluid motion he circled her waist with his hands, lifted her off the ground, and caught her up against his chest as his lips came down on hers with firm, mounting pressure. It was a powerful sensation. Katherine swallowed a small, shivery gasp and closed her eyes as his lips molded impatiently, eagerly, to hers.

  Time seemed to be suspended as his mouth moved over hers with an ardor that startled her at first. It was as if he were starving and only the taste of her lips would satisfy him. Caught up in the shelter of his embrace, she felt safer and more whole than she’d ever felt in her life. The warmth of his body and strength in his arms seemed to sink into her soul and nourish her. Spirals of wonderful sensations curled tightly in her abdomen and then seemed to shoot through her body as she surrendered to the first stirrings of passion that had awakened within her. Katherine relaxed and concentrated on the pleasure soaring within her.

  His lips left hers and he kissed her cheek, under her eye, and down to the corner of her mouth before returning and melting his lips to the contours of hers once more. As they kissed, the movement of his lips upon hers became more languorous and less frantic. It was as if he treasured what he was doing and how he was feeling.

  The thrills that swept through her were shattering all she had ever imagined a kiss would be. Thoughts, dreams, and wishes were no comparison to a real kiss delivered passionately by a real man. Their kiss gathered intensity. Katherine felt as if she had been waiting for this experience all her life, and she welcomed it with open arms and open mind to explore it all.

  Lord Greyhawke lifted his head a little and looked down into her eyes. “What do you think of your first kiss?”

  She moistened her lips and inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “That I expected it to be softer and shorter. Much like when Papa used to kiss my forehead or my cheek.”

  He chuckled, and then in a reassuring tone he said, “Miss Wright, a gentleman’s kiss to a lady is not supposed to be chaste like a father’s buss to his daughter.”

  “I think I understand that now, and I’m wondering why I’ve never allowed any of the gentlemen who’ve wanted to kiss me to do it. Surely I’ve been missing many opportunities to experience these wonderful feelings it causes deep inside me.”

  He gave her a rueful grin. “That’s not the answer
I expected from you, but do not think that every man will produce the same response in you that my kiss did.”

  She eyed him curiously and watched shadows of moonlight play across his handsome features. “Why not?” she asked.

  “I’ll just say that every man kisses differently.”

  “How do you know this?”

  His lips twitched with a little humor, and so did hers. Katherine could tell he was considering how to answer her question, so she playfully goaded him by adding, “Have you kissed many men?”

  The earl laughed. It was an easy, natural sound that was pleasing to her ears.

  “I have kissed no men, but since no two ladies kiss alike, I will assume it’s safe to think no two men do either.”

  “And have you kissed many ladies?”

  His gaze feathered down her face and back up to her eyes. “Enough.”

  Katherine stared into his golden-brown eyes that were moments before seducing her and said, “I like the way you kiss.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. I liked your kisses, too. Immensely. Perhaps we should do it again.”

  “That would be lovely, but dangerous. We are standing out in the open on my front lawn.”

  “It won’t be the first time I’ve done something dangerous. And for reasons I don’t begin to understand and have no desire to contemplate, I am of a mind to tempt fate one more time tonight and kiss you again.”

  His words tempted her and eased her fears. “I think I would like that, too, my lord.”

  The earl bent his head to hers and sought her mouth once again. Katherine knew what to expect and began to kiss him back. She dropped her cane and wound both arms around his neck, pulling him closer, urging him to kiss her harder. And he did. She skimmed her hands along the width of his shoulders and down the breadth of his back.

  He trembled beneath her searching hands. His arms tightened around her possessively, pressing her breasts against the firmness of his powerful chest as if he were trying to bind her to him.

  “Open your mouth,” he whispered against her lips. “Let me inside to taste you.”

  She followed his instructions without hesitation, and his tongue flicked across the inner surface of her lips and around the corners of her mouth, surprising her. Shivers of exquisite pleasure soared through her. She had never experienced anything as wonderful as being held tightly in Lord Greyhawke’s arms and kissing him.

  She wanted to taste him, too, so she eased her tongue forward and slowly at first, until she heard him moan softly. That spurred her to respond to his kisses with the same aggressive eagerness he exhibited, and their tongues swirled and played.

  Katherine knew she was being seduced, but she didn’t care. She was enjoying every moment of it. She answered every gasp, every moan, and every breath that fell from his lips as they kissed long, deep, and savoring. He slanted his lips over hers again and again. She welcomed the feel of him, the smell and taste of him to all her senses.

  “Am I doing it right?” she questioned breathlessly.

  “Perfect,” he answered, kissing his way down her chin to her neck and around behind her ear.

  Her breath trembled in her throat, but she managed to whisper, “Are—are you feeling the same unexplainable things I am feeling?”

  “Oh, yes,” he murmured on a shaky gasp. “And probably many more than you are enjoying right now.”

  A wanting for more grew low in her abdomen. She had no idea that two people could create such long, delicious, and wondrous feelings of delight by their lips and bodies touching and coming together so intimately. Now she knew the meaning of all the love poems she’d ever read. What she was experiencing with Lord Greyhawke was the reason they had all been written. She felt as if she could go on kissing him forever.

  “Someone’s coming,” he whispered, lifting his lips from hers.

  Katherine hadn’t heard anything but heavy breathing. The earl quickly stood her on her feet and stepped away from her.

  Katherine looked down and realized she was standing without the aid of her cane. Suddenly her legs buckled and she fell to the ground on her bottom.

  She gasped.

  Lord Greyhawke swore.

  He quickly bent and slid one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. Her arms circled his neck and he lifted her off the damp ground.

  “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, looking down the length of her body with a quiet intensity.

  “No, no, I’m fine,” Katherine answered, fighting the desire to snuggle deeper into his warm, strong, protective embrace once again.

  “What happened?”

  “I couldn’t stand. I didn’t have my cane.”

  Katherine heard the front door open and male voices talking and laughing that suddenly went silent. She felt the muscles in the earl’s arms jerk and flex with tension. Concern clouded his features. She twisted her head around and saw the duke, Uncle Willard, and three other gentlemen standing in the doorway gawking at her and the earl.

  “Damnation!” His Grace exclaimed. “What on God’s green earth is going on out here?”

  By the expression on Uncle Quillsbury’s face and the controlled shake to his voice, Katherine doubted whether she or the earl could say anything that would appease her two uncles.

  Chapter 11

  I have set my life upon a cast,

  And I will stand the hazard of the die.

  —Richard III, act 5, scene 4

  Adam was still trying to figure out what had happened to make Miss Wright fall when the front door swung open and he was staring into the angry eyes of the Duke of Quillsbury and his equally disturbed brother, Lord Willard. In fact, all the men seemed to be glaring at him as if he were a scoundrel of the highest order.

  Not that he blamed any of them for the outrage they were showing. He was exactly what they thought him to be, a rake who had just taken advantage of an innocent young lady because he couldn’t restrain his desire for her. There was no use in trying to deny his guilt when he held the lovely but damning evidence in his arms. He’d known someone was about to open the door. He’d heard them coming, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t leave Miss Wright sitting on the dew-wet ground. Picking her up was the only option.

  If he found himself caught in a parson’s mousetrap, it was he who had set the trap. What would he do if the duke insisted her reputation had been ruined and demanded Adam marry her? He couldn’t. He could never marry again.

  Prodded by the silence that seemed to be stretching, Adam said, “Your Grace, I can explain.”

  “Then you’d best get to it quickly,” the duke said.

  “Let me handle this, my lord,” Miss Wright whispered so no one but Adam would hear. “I know my uncles well.”

  “You are not the one he wants to hear from right now,” Adam said just as softly.

  “Be that as it may, I will speak first,” she insisted, and then looked over at her uncle and said, “Uncle Quillsbury, there is no reason for you to be so serious sounding or for anyone to be alarmed.”

  “Really, my dear?” he said sternly, stepping down onto the stoop. “If that is the case, would you mind telling me why Lord Greyhawke is cradling you in his arms as if he were about to ravish you?”

  Oh, yes. He knew.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle. I know it appears that way to you, but it isn’t what it seems. Surely you know that if the earl was going to accost a young lady, it wouldn’t be on her front lawn beneath a glaring porch lamp with five carriage drivers across the street looking on.”

  Adam glanced down at Miss Wright again and was very tempted to smile. He couldn’t believe she’d just said he wouldn’t do exactly what he’d just done. And she’d sounded damned convincing, too. She had courage in spades. He would grant her that.

  “I thought it would be quite clear that I had fallen,” Miss Wright continued. “Lord Greyhawke was on his way to his carriage and saw me sitting on the ground. He picked me up and was bringing me inside when you ope
ned the door.”

  Adam watched both her uncles’ expressions instantly turn from anger to concern.

  “Then by all the saints why are you standing out there in the cold with her, Lord Greyhawke? Bring her inside. The rest of you gentlemen step aside and let him pass. Better yet, go on home. There’s nothing for you to do here other than gawk and be in the way.”

  “You amaze me, Miss Wright. Where did you learn to be so evasive?” Adam whispered as he tightened his hold on her and headed toward the door.

  “Was I?” she responded.

  “The best I’ve come across.” His foot landed on the first step. “For a moment you even had me believing I hadn’t kissed you.”

  Miss Wright chuckled softly and slipped her arms around his neck. He was glad she wasn’t concerned about the predicament they were in, but he sure as hell was.

  Adam bounded up the three steps with her. He didn’t make eye contact with any of the onlookers as they parted at the doorway and allowed him entrance, but the mumbled murmurings he heard as soon as his back was to them worried Adam. Suddenly he had the feeling that not one of the three gentlemen had believed Miss Wright’s story, even if it appeared, for the time being, that her uncles had.

  Lord Willard’s long strides led the way down the corridor to the drawing room. From behind him, Adam heard the duke calling for his sister, Lady Leola, to come belowstairs.

  Adam entered the drawing room and gently set Miss Wright on the wide-striped settee. He felt the tingling warmth of her gentle arms slide from around his neck and down his arms. Once again, he wanted to feel her soft, pliant lips beneath his.

  A shiver of desire shuddered through him, and Adam was reminded that he wanted her. His every response to her all evening had surprised him.

  Lord Willard quickly brushed him aside and knelt in front of her while the duke settled his tall, lanky frame beside her on the small sofa.

  “Where are you hurt, my dear?” His Grace asked.

  Miss Wright smiled lovingly and shook her head. “I’m not hurt, Uncles,” she assured them. “Please don’t worry. I don’t know why, but all of a sudden, I was feeling quite breathless and light-headed. I was unsure of my footing, lost my balance, and fell. As simple as that. The ground was quite soft, so there is no need for concern.”