by Gill, Tamara
He would have none of the roguish experience that they did. Of course, he knew the particulars. He had read extensively after all, but doing the sexual act was another beast entirely.
But now, kissing Victoria, something told him that it wasn't something to fear, but long for. Her hands, clutching his hair, her breathy moans when he teased her soft lips with little nibbles and short kisses drove him to the point of madness.
Had he been a rake, a man of the world, he would know how to seduce her, bring them both to a pleasurable conclusion. With her a widow, such an interlude could be a possibility. But he did not know how to do any of those things or even how to go about starting such progress.
Albert kissed her hard, forcing his hands to remain on her hips when she surged against his hard cock. Stars burst behind his eyes, and he went to distance themselves. Victoria made a noise of annoyance, holding him firmly in place.
“Do not deny me,” she said between kisses.
Albert forgot all thoughts of where they were. The fact that her brother the duke could too be out riding the grounds and could find them entangled. That the groom was merely a few feet from them. All forgotten at her whispered words.
The kiss turned savage. His body aflame with need, his cock so hard that he was certain he would come should she continue what she was doing.
They needed to stop. One of them needed to end this madness before they tumbled to the ground, and he fumbled his way into having her at the top of a hill with nothing but grass at her back.
He broke the kiss. "We need to end this. Now. Before it is too late."
She stared at him, her eyes wide and glassy with desire. She blinked several times before they cleared, and the woman in his arms was once again the sensible, intelligent Victoria he'd always known.
"Of course, yes," she breathed, stepping away. She checked her riding breeches and jacket before reaching up and pinning her hair back to rights. "Well, that was certainly a very good lesson, do you not think?"
Frustration shot through him that after such a kiss, a soul-shattering one such as the one they shared, that it would be termed a lesson. He stood mute for a moment, unable to form the words to reply.
"We should probably return to Rosedale." Victoria walked over to her horse and gained her seat without help.
Albert shook himself free of the melancholy that threatened his good mood and mounted too. "We shall go this way, it is a shorter way back, but the view is just as good as the one here on the hilltop."
She nodded, turning her horse and starting down the hill. Albert spun around in his saddle and noticed the groom waiting discreetly behind them, no sign on his visage that he judged them over what they had just done.
Which, by the looks of Victoria, was nothing at all. How on earth was he supposed to court her, even if she were not aware of such things, if she was so adamant that marriage was not an option she wished to consider.
He didn't want any other lady whom she would train him to woo. He wanted her, yet even he knew that she would not be an easy woman to win. She would take all his effort, his patience, and the wooing skills he possessed.
Which, unfortunately, were not many.
He kicked his mount on, following close behind Victoria as they snaked their way down the hill back to Rosedale. His mind a whirr of thoughts on how to win a lady who did not want to be won.
Chapter 12
Victoria lay in bed later that night, staring at the ornate painting on the ceiling. She had left her curtains open this balmy evening on some of her windows, allowing the cooling breeze off the lake to enter her room.
Her mind would not settle, and it was no wonder after the kiss she shared with Albert earlier that day. She had not particularly known how to act after it and so had dismissed the kiss as a good first attempt at teaching him to be a rake.
She'd never kissed a gentleman like that before, not even her husband while he was bedding her. Could they be soft and slow, a seduction of the senses? Or deep and demanding, taking her breath away and leaving her witless such as the one they shared? Paul’s kisses had been awful, nothing like Albert’s.
Victoria sighed. Albert had kissed her as if she were precious, as if he wanted to kiss her, not for teaching purposes, but because he wanted her.
She thumped the bed with her hands, hating that she did not know which one it was for Albert. Not that she should be mulling over their interlude at all, she reminded herself. She wasn't marrying Albert or any gentleman. The kiss was nothing special, and she was being a fool giving herself ideas that it was for Albert at least.
At this rate she was never going to fall to sleep. Throwing back the bedding, she reached for her dressing gown at the end of her bed and started for the door. A nice, hot cup of milk would do her. She could always ring a maid, but the house had been abed for hours now, and it would not be fair to wake everyone just because she could not sleep.
Victoria checked the hall, and not seeing anyone about, used her candle to make her way to the servant's stairs, knowing these stairs would come out directly across from the kitchens.
This time of night, she encountered no one about. The oven illuminated the kitchen, its bright, burning coals giving her light. She placed her candle on the long, wooden table and turned to the large dresser, finding the milk covered with a cloth to keep out any bugs.
She poured some into the pot, enough for a cup, and placed it on the top of the stove. A stool sat close by, and Victoria sat down, waiting for her milk to warm.
"I did not think a duke's daughter would know her way around the kitchen."
The male voice, familiar and welcome as the cup of milk encircled her, and Victoria stood, pushing down her absurd, enthusiastic reaction to Albert's appearance at the door.
That he was dressed in tan breeches and a shirt, his cravat untied and hanging loosely about his neck, only made him appear more handsome than she needed to think him.
He was not for her. No man was, never again would she be played a fool by a gentleman. Paul had cured her of any ideas of marriage after his treatment of her. She was an heiress, a widow who could direct her own life, go and do whatever she pleased whenever it pleased her. She did not need a husband tagging along, or worse, telling her she could not go or do such things.
But, oh dear, he did look very handsome, all disheveled and rumpled. His hair appeared like he had run his hand through it several times since she saw him at dinner. Was he also thinking of the kiss, of what a mistake it may have been to tumble over?
Victoria calmed her worries, determined to be as confident and professional as she possibly could around him. He was her friend. They had an agreement. She would help him gain a wife, he would tell her he was the author, Elbert Retsek, marry another and she would go home with her mama and start her widowhood in earnest.
"I could not sleep and hoped a glass of milk might help me. Would you like one?" she offered.
He pulled up a chair and sat across from her. "No, thank you. I heard a noise on my way to bed and thought to come and investigate. I'm glad that we're alone. I want to talk to you about the kiss this afternoon."
Victoria willed the heat to dissipate from her cheeks at the mention of their embrace. She blamed it on the fire in the hearth instead. "There is no need to discuss the kiss, my lord. It was merely an instruction between friends on how you would kiss a wife. I will admit you did a very fine job of."
He cleared his throat, his eyes going wide. Had she shocked him yet again? She was known in her family always to speak her mind, to have opinions that not everyone wished to hear all of the time, and yet, such disapproval never deterred her. She simply persisted with her ways.
"I hope that our kiss has not discouraged you from helping me gain a wife. I would still like your help if you're willing to continue."
Relief poured through her like a balm. "Of course I'm willing to help still. In fact, we can pick up the lessons after breakfast if you would like. Perhaps we could meet in the music room. The
re is a pianoforte in there, and I would like to give you instruction on what to say and how to act when your particular young lady takes a seat to play for an audience."
His head cocked thoughtfully, and she hoped they could move forward from today. They were friends, after all. Surely male and female fellows could remain so, even after sharing such an intimate act.
"That would be most helpful."
The milk on the stove started to boil, and Albert stood, picking up a nearby mitten before clasping the pot. He poured the milk into her mug with care, not a drop spilled.
"Would you like sugar in your milk?" he asked her, placing the pot in the sink.
"No, thank you. The milk will be enough." She sipped her drink, watching him. "You are sure that you wish to take a wife, Albert? I do not want to force these lessons on you if you're not ready to settle down."
He sat again across from her, folding his hands in his lap, his legs a little parted in his ease of seating. "I am ready to marry. Out here in Hampshire, there isn't much to do most of the year, and the company would be nice. I also long for children to make the house sing with giggles and squeals. I cannot wait for those days to come."
Victoria found herself entranced by his words, his ideals. His future sounded so very pleasant, and once, maybe, there was a time she too wanted such things. Her first days of marriage had been lovely, but it wasn’t long before disillusionment creeped into her world. The whispers of Paul and where he spent his nights, the spending, the not seeing him for days on end. Never again would she be a man’s property, uncared for and treated like rubbish. Now she wished for adventure—independence above all things, a life of her own on her own.
"I hope you get your wish and with my help, maybe sooner rather than later. I may not teach you everything you need to know to gain a wife. Some things like today's kiss should never happen again. But most etiquette and proper conversation skills I can help with. And my connections, of course, while we're staying here with you in Hampshire, will help draw suitable ladies to your side."
He reached out, picking up her hand. He did not wear gloves, and her attention shifted to his arms, his rolled-up shirtsleeves that gave her an advantageous view of his muscled arms. His fingers were long and warm, strong, and she shivered, remembering what they felt like against her back, holding her firmly upon his chest.
His eyes met hers, and as if in slow motion, his mouth lowered to her hand and kissed her fingers. She sucked in a breath, feeling his lips, the touch of his mouth against her flesh as if he had kissed her a second time on the lips. Her nipples beaded, and she became aware of how little she was wearing.
Oh dear Lord, what was happening to her? She could not react to this man. Albert was her friend, possibly her favorite author in all the world. She could not lust after him.
That would never do at all.
"I must go," she said, wrenching out of his hold and fleeing the room. "Goodnight," she said at the door, not waiting to hear his reply. Lord Melvin was starting to be a danger, and she needed to calm herself before she saw him again. His reply, husky and low, made longing rip through her. Damn it all, this plan of hers may have been a bad one after all, and she never had bad ideas. Ever.
Chapter 13
As agreed, they met in the music room the following morning. Albert walked into the chamber and steeled himself for spending some time with Victoria.
Alone.
She was the epitome of perfection. She stood gracefully beside an open window, the sheer curtains floating past the bottom of her dress, her hair up in curls, several loose and bouncing against her slim shoulder. As for her gown, it fell against her form in the most flattering of ways, revealing her luscious curves and bountiful breasts.
Albert should look away, should not be torturing himself with designs on a woman who did not want a husband, but he could not help himself. She was all that he wanted. He would play her game of instruction if only to win her heart with seduction if need be.
He cleared his throat, and she turned, the pensive, thoughtful expression immediately replaced with one of welcome, her smile warming the room even more than it already was.
"Good morning, Lady Victoria. I hope you slept well."
She nodded once, starting for the pianoforte where she sat on the leather stool. "I did, thank you. I hope you're ready for your next lesson?"
He joined her, leaning over the pianoforte and one that had been in his family since he could remember. "What is it you wish to instruct me on today?"
"Well, as to that. I wanted to talk to you about what you could do to offer help, show interest when the lady you are courting is taking part in a musical night or an impromptu concert after dinner."
Albert knew already what he should do. He knew everything if he were truthful. It was only with Victoria could he be relaxed enough to do what he ought as a gentleman. There was something about her that his soul found comforting, enough to stop his spluttering or his inability to speak at all. Women made him anxious, all but Victoria. She made him nervous. There was a large difference between the two.
"If your lady is called to play a song, you may escort her to the pianoforte, offer to help her with her music while she plays. If you're able, you may even offer to sing a duet with her."
All reasonable suggestions, not that he'd ever been able to do such things. During his first season, he tried to act the part of a marquess searching for a wife, being all gentlemanly and correct. He had offered to turn the music pages, had bumbled the page turn, and the music had ended on top of the lady's hands before falling to the floor.
He had stopped trying to play the part of an able-bodied lord after that.
Until Victoria, that was.
"Let us play a little game. I shall stay here and choose music to play—a duet. You shall come and offer assistance and sing with me. Let us practice to make you perfect when such an opportunity arises for you."
"Very well." Albert walked away and waited for Victoria to settle herself at the pianoforte. Her music set out before her. He came back over to her, bowing. "May I turn the pages for you, Lady Victoria?" he asked her, his body clenching at the sight of her biting her bottom lip, playing a coy miss, not having expected a lord to ask to help her.
"Thank you, Lord Melvin. That is most kind." She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, and he could almost imagine this was real, that he was so suave and capable of pulling off such a triumph.
"Not at all. You play so wonderfully. It is an honor to help."
She dipped her head, but not before he saw the small grin on her lips.
Victoria started to play For Tenderness Form’d in Life’s Early Days, the music flowing from her fingers as if the pianoforte were a part of her body, fluid and perfect with each keystroke. For a time, Albert lost himself in the music before her voice broke into song, and he knew what it was to hear perfection.
He joined her, his deeper baritone melding perfectly with her higher octave. His eyes met hers, and he read her surprise, having not known that he could sing. He could do many things. Just his inability to do them well when about the company of others was his issue.
Her lips broke out into a smile as their voices blended to a harmonious, delightful sound. He was thankful that he could sing, for it was days such as this one that he would forever cherish. Being here with Victoria, enjoying her company, turning the pages, and singing with her as if he were the epitome of gentlemanly behavior and breeding made bearing this rogue tutoring worthwhile.
In the book he was penning, he would include a scene like this one, mayhap have the villain in the story come in and ruin the harmonious playing and singing between two lovers.
Would Victoria guess when she read the novel that it was based on this very day? He had never wanted to be prominent. The idea made him physically ill, thinking about meeting all the people who longed to do so. But would it be so bad if one woman knew who his pseudonym was?
The song came to an end, and with the turning of the la
st page, Albert could not tear his eyes from Victoria. Her eyes held his, luminous and large. Her lips slightly apart as if she could not quite fathom how in sync they had been.
"You sing beautifully, Albert." Her fingers slid off the ebony keys, settling in her lap.
He wanted to tell her that while he may sing in such a way, she was the one who was beautiful in all ways. A woman after his own heart. Hell, what was he thinking? After his heart? She had captured it a long time ago. If only he could capture hers.
"My singing is nothing compared to yours, and your playing. You are proficient at the pianoforte."
She stood, placing herself closer to him. Albert did not move, merely stared down at her. His stomach clenched, heat swirling in his gut. He wanted to kiss her again. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than that, even if his virgin body did not know entirely what that involved.
Her attention dipped to his lips, and she leaned closer still. She was but a breath from him. Did she want him to kiss her again? He wished he was a rogue and able to make a choice, take what he wanted, but the small voice of uncertainty whispered against his ear, stopping him from taking her lips again.
"How wonderful that you played so well together." The sound of the Duchess of Penworth's voice at the music room door wrenched all thoughts of kissing Victoria away. Albert stepped back, bowing, while disappointment stabbed at him at a lost opportunity.
"Good morning, Your Grace. I did not know you were listening."
She smiled, but her eyes flicked to her daughter. Victoria stood silent, but a blush kissed her cheeks.
"I did not think you knew I was here." The duchess smiled. "Would you accompany me upstairs, daughter? I wish for you to help me pick a gown for our drive about Hampshire tomorrow. I assume we're still going to have the picnic."
"Of course," Albert said, remembering he'd offered to take them on a picnic at dinner the night before. "It does not look like it will storm any time soon. The picnic will be possible, I'm sure."