A frown pinched her brow as a thought suddenly occurred to her. While she questioned the sincerity of his compliment, there was no doubt that he had actually desired her. She was scientifically aware of the workings of the human body, and there could be no doubt as to the physical evidence of his arousal. Lovely or not, he had desired her. And heaven knows she'd desired him.
Sitting up straight, she pursed her lips and applied logic to the facts. Yes, he'd muttered untrue statements regarding her appearance, but should she fault him for being kind? Polite? Heavens, what was the man supposed to say? That she resembled a toad?
Until last evening, no man had ever indicated he desired her. Wanted to kiss her. Touch her. But this man had. And God help her, she wanted him to desire her again. She'd never dared hope that she might feel a man's passion. This might well be her only chance to ever experience an adventure her heart had always secretly yearned for-to know a man. In every way a woman could.
Could she truly contemplate becoming Lord Wesley's lover? Her heart skipped a beat and heat suffused her. Yes. This is my chance to experience something I've always dreamed of. Passion. With a man who sets my blood on fire.
Of course, marriage was out of the question. Lord Wesley would never consider marrying someone like her. He would marry a diamond of the first water. A fresh, young, malleable miss from the peerage, who possessed a beautiful face and a dowry to match. But his physical reaction last evening clearly indicated he was not adverse to making love to her.
Making love. The adventure of a lifetime. Her eyes drifted closed, and a long sigh escaped her. She'd always dreamed of adventure, but since her abduction by the Bride Thief, it seemed as if the floodgates had opened. Her previous vague yearnings had blossomed into deep aches of want. Yes, her work in the Chamber fulfilled her, but as she'd grown older, she'd recognized that although her mind was satisfied, something inside her wanted more. And she knew exactly what she wanted.
Lord Wesley.
She pressed her hands to her stomach to calm its wild fluttering. Lord Wesley's lover. Dear God, did she dare? Every long-suppressed desire inside her screamed yes!
But there was much to consider. Certainly much discretion would be needed to avoid a scandal for herself as well as her family. And what if she became with child? Even though their affair might remain secret, she couldn't very well hide a child. Of course, there were ways to prevent pregnancy. While she didn't know what they were, surely one of her sisters would. Best to only ask one of them, however. The fewer people she involved in her plan in any way, the better. Perhaps Lucille would be best. She always knew all the London gossip and seemed particularly fascinated by wicked liaisons. I'll claim I merely wish to know for scientific research. Certainly Lucille would never suspect I want the information because I intend to take a lover.
A thrill of exhilaration zinged through her at the prospect of such an adventure. She wanted to discover the ways of passion… and at no one else's hands but his. Heavens, his kiss had nearly dissolved her knees. What would it be like to share further intimacies with him? Caress each other… join their bodies? She didn't know, but she desperately wanted to find out.
Would she find herself in his arms again? If so, she would make the most of the opportunity. She'd allow her desires… and his… to lead her.
The snap of a breaking stick startled her. She turned around and heat flashed through her.
Lord Wesley stood directly behind her.
Eric looked down at her and stilled at her expression. He'd hoped she wouldn't gaze at him with that same disappointed blankness in her eyes as last evening. She didn't. But he was unprepared for the sight that greeted him.
Bloody hell, she looked… aroused. Crimson-stained cheeks, labored breathing, unmistakable desire shimmering behind her spectacles. What the hell had she just been thinking?
She reached for a pair of worn slippers and slid her bare feet into them. He caught a glimpse of shapely ankle that affected his pulse far more than it should have.
Extending his hand to help her up, he said, "Good afternoon, Miss Briggeham."
"Lord Wesley." She accepted his hand, and warmth spread up his arm when her smooth palm met his. He helped her rise, then immediately had to squelch the groan that rose in his throat. She stood no more than a foot away, her chestnut curls delightfully disheveled, her honey scent wrapping around him like a fragrant web. The desire to taste her, feel her, slammed into him with knee-buckling intensity. Even while his brain told him to release her hand, he shifted his fingers to bring their palms into more intimate contact.
"I thought I might find you here," he said softly.
"You wished to speak to me?"
No. I wish to strip that gown from your luscious body, then run my tongue all over you. And when I've finished tasting you, I want to-
He shook his head to clear it. "Speak to you? Er, yes."
"About last evening?"
"Er, yes." Good God, he sounded like a nodcock, but he hadn't expected such forthrightness. Yet, he should have from her.
She nodded once, briskly. "Excellent, for I wish to discuss it as well. I should not have departed your home in so abrupt a manner. You'd shown great generosity to both myself and Hubert and I apologize."
"There is no need for you to-"
"I've thought extensively on the matter, and I quite understand why you said what you did."
"You do?"
"Yes. After all, you couldn't very well tell me the truth. Yet while I appreciate your effort to-"
He brushed a single finger over her lips, cutting off her words. "What do you mean by the truth! Are you suggesting I lied to you?"
She puckered her brow and pursed her lips, clearly considering his question. "Lied, I believe, is too strong a word. Fibbed is perhaps better. I realize you were only trying to be polite, but in the future, I would prefer you not utter such drivel."
He knew immediately what she referred to. How was it possible that this incredible, unique woman had no inkling of her own appeal?
"I did not lie to you. Or fib." Bringing her hand to his lips, he feathered a kiss across her fingers. Then, sliding his other arm around her, he drew her closer, until her breasts brushed his shirt.
"You are lovely," he said softly, watching her steadily, willing her to read the sincerity in his gaze, in his voice. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes, as if she wanted to believe him but could not, and he ached with the need to show her, tell her, make her understand. "I do not say that to be polite, but because it's true."
He drew both her hands to his chest, pressing her palms over his rapidly beating heart. Then, trailing a single fingertip slowly down her cheek, he murmured, "Take your skin, for example. It's smooth. Flawless. Like the finest silk."
"I have freckles on my nose."
A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "I know. And they're utterly charming." He captured a wayward curl between his fingers. "And your hair is-"
"Unruly."
"Shiny. Soft." He brought the curl to his face and inhaled. "Fragrant." Reaching out, he slowly removed her spectacles, tucking them in his jacket pocket. "And then there are your eyes. They're extraordinary. Large and expressive. Warm and intelligent. Did you know they sparkle like aquamarines when you smile? Did you know your smile could light a darkened room?" She stared at him, blinked twice, then simply shook her head.
His gaze wandered down to her mouth, and his pulse jumped. Slowly tracing the rim of her lips with a single fingertip, he whispered, "Your mouth is… fascinating. Luscious. Kissable." Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, then kissed a slow trail across her jaw.
When he reached her ear, he gently captured the lobe between his teeth, enjoying the shiver that rippled through her. Inhaling deeply, her fragrance infused him, seeping through him like a drug.
"Your scent," he whispered against her soft neck, "is beyond lovely. Even if I live to be one hundred, I shall never smell honey again and not think of you. It's tant
alizing. Tempting." He touched his tongue to her fragrant skin and a groan escaped him. "Tormenting. So many't' words to describe one woman."
A shaky moan rumbled in her throat, and he leaned back to gaze at her flushed face. "Lovely," he reiterated firmly. "In every way. Inside and out. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. And don't you ever believe otherwise."
She stared at him, wide-eyed and silent. Her hands rested on his shirt, radiating heat across his chest, down his abdomen, and into his groin. With her soft body pressed against his from chest to knee, he knew she felt his arousal. But he wanted her to. Wanted her to feel the undeniable evidence of his desire, the physical proof of the sincerity of his words.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. "No one has ever said such things to me before."
"I find that impossible to believe. But I recall we agreed last evening that most people are fools."
She didn't react for several seconds, but then a smile spread slowly over her face, as if the sun were dawning, heating him until he basked in its golden glow.
"I think you're lovely as well," she whispered.
Her simple compliment washed over him, touching him in a way no other woman's words ever had. Need pulsed through him, throbbing hot in his veins, overriding his common sense, pushing aside his better judgment. One word echoed through his mind!-a mantra fueling his desire.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Unable to stop himself, he tunneled his fingers through her hair, scattering pins onto the ground until her chestnut tresses sifted freely over his skin. The scent of her engulfed him, flooding his senses, drowning his reason. Lowering his head, he kissed her slowly, deeply, his tongue sliding into her silky mouth then retreating in a sensual dance his body ached to share with her. She responded to his every move, gliding her tongue against his, combing her fingers through his hair, straining her body closer, tighter to his.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Without breaking their kiss, he moved backwards until his back bumped against a thick tree trunk. Bracing his weight against the sturdy tree, he pulled her closer, his hands slipping down to her rounded buttocks. Hauling her against his straining arousal, he slowly rubbed himself against her, shooting spears of white-hot heat through him. With a low, guttural groan burning in his throat, his hands slid up her rib cage, then forward to cup her breasts. Her soft muslin-covered flesh filled his hands, her hard nipples pressing against his palms.
Dragging his lips from hers, he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Long, feminine moans of pleasure rumbled in her throat, and she arched against him, igniting him. He slipped his fingers inside her bodice and brushed them over her distended nipples. His groan mingled with hers, and raising his head, he devoured her mouth in another searing kiss. She squirmed against him and his erection jerked in response. God help him, he wanted her. Needed her. Now. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Reaching down, he caught the hem of her gown, gathering it slowly upward. He slid his hand beneath the material, trailing his palm up her silky bare thigh. She gasped against his mouth, and he leaned back to look at her, his vision hazy with desire.
Bloody hell, she was incredible. Flushed, aroused, her lips swollen from his ardent kisses, her nipples hard beneath the thin muslin of her gown, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. She was everything a man could want, and she was his for the taking. If he moved his hand, just a few inches, he could caress her feminine flesh… heated folds he knew were soft and wet. For him. And then he'd-
And then you'll what? His conscience yelled, breaking through the sensual fog enveloping him. Are you going to take her against the tree? A virgin? And if you do, then what do you plan to do with her? Marry her?
And on the heels of his outraged conscience, Arthur's words came back to him. She's innocent. Just the sort of woman who might read more meanin' into yer attentions than ye mean.
Reality hit him like a cold, wet blanket. Easing his hand from beneath her gown, he gripped her by the waist and firmly set her away from him.
Sammie dragged a much needed breath into her lungs. Heat spiraled through her, pooling between her legs. Her feminine flesh felt moist and heavy, and throbbed with an ache she'd never before experienced. A delightful ache she wanted more of.
But with the thrilling hardness of his body no longer pressing against her, she forced her eyes open. He leaned against the tree trunk, holding her at arm's length by the waist. She squinted at him, and although he was blurry, she could easily discern his labored breathing and intense expression.
Thank goodness he still held her or else she would have simply slithered to the ground in a boneless heap. Drawing several deep breaths, she tried to slow her racing pulse and gather her scattered wits.
Finally finding her voice, she asked, "Why did you stop?"
His grip on her waist tightened. "Because if I hadn't stopped then, I wouldn't have been able to." A humorless laugh passed his lips. "Believe me, the effort nearly killed me. Do you have any idea how close I came to making love to you?"
Elation swept through Sammie. Drawing upon all her courage, she whispered, "Do you have any idea how much I wanted you to?"
He went perfectly still. "We can't do this," he said in a raspy voice.
She raised her chin a notch and said the words she prayed would set her on the greatest adventure of her life.
"Why not?"
Chapter Ten
" Why not? " Eric stared at her in amazement. She watched him, her head cocked to one side, clearly waiting for him to elaborate. After what seemed an eternity, he finally cleared his throat and said, "Surely you know why we cannot take this any further. There could be repercussions-and I'm not in a position to offer you marriage."
She raised her brows. "I don't expect a proposal."
"Then what do you expect exactly?"
"That we'd share a wonderful adventure."
Eric's heart thumped so hard he could feel his blood pounding in his ears. He tried to draw a breath, but his lungs seemed compressed in his chest, as if a heavy rock sat on them.
Her response stunned him, elated him, and he wanted more than anything to share a sensual adventure with her. But how could he? His conscience would flog him alive. The silence stretched between them and he knew he had to respond.
"As flattered as I am by your willingness, I'm afraid we must stop."
She frowned, then her eyes widened. "Oh, dear. Do you already have a lover?"
A warm flush crept up his neck. "Not currently, no."
There was no mistaking her relief. Her gaze drifted down to his still-bulging manhood, then returned to his face. "You cannot deny you desire me."
"Obviously not. But there is much more involved here than simply satisfying my desires." His fingers tightened briefly on her wasit, then he released her and dragged his hands down his face. "Clearly you have not thought this through-"
"On the contrary, I have."
"Indeed? 'Tis clear you have not considered your reputation, which would be utterly ruined."
"Only if someone found out. I wouldn't tell anyone. Would you?"
"Of course not. But no matter how discreet we might try to be, someone would suspect and gossip. A servant, a neighbor, someone in your family. It would be impossible to hide an affair in a close-knit village like Tunbridge Wells."
"I disagree." Drawing a deep breath, she clasped her hands in front of her. "I am regarded in this village as an odd, eccentric, homely, firmly-on-the-shelf bluestocking. No one would credit for an instant that any man, let alone a man such as yourself, would grant me more than a passing glance. I find it nearly impossible to credit myself. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that even if we stood in a crowded room and announced to one and all that we'd become lovers, no one would believe us."
The fact that she was most likely correct rushed a surge of anger through him toward every dolt who had ever dismissed her. Damnable idiots.
"I am rapidly approaching my twenty-sixth birthday." – she
continued. "I accepted long ago the limitations put upon me by my appearance and unusual interests, but that has never stopped me from yearning for adventure. And passion."
Fragile hope and longing flickered in her eyes, tightening his throat. Damn it, he had to convince her that taking him as a lover was a bad idea-and somehow manage to convince her without crushing her. But it was damn difficult to recall why when his loins ached with need and it seemed he'd lost his voice.
Needing to touch her, he reached out, took her hand, and entwined their fingers. Warmth eased up his arm at her touch, and it required a great deal of willpower not to simply yank her against him and consign his bloody conscience to the devil.
"Ever since my encounter with the Bride Thief," she said softly, "I've been unable to suppress my need for adventure. It's as if he burst a dam inside me."
He froze. "The Bride Thief? What has he to do with this?"
"He made me feel… alive. Made me realize how very much I wanted… things."
His jaw hardened and he narrowed his eyes. "Things such as a lover?"
She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Yes."
Unreasonable, irrational jealousy pumped through him, and he abruptly released her hand. "Then perhaps you should approach the Bride Thief with your offer."
Color rushed into her cheeks, and he gritted his teeth. He hadn't considered that she might be harboring… lover-like feelings for his alter personality.
"It is unlikely I shall ever see him again," she said.
Damned unlikely. "And if you did?"
"He did not give me any indication that he… desired me."
Bloody hell, what did she mean by that? Did she want to experience passion with the Bride Thief? The thought of her wanting another man, regardless of the fact that the other man was in reality him, edged his vision with a red haze.
Swallowing his mounting anger, he said coolly, "Have you considered that your adventure could result in pregnancy?"
The Bride Thief Page 14