by Connie Mason
She sucked in a quick breath as she imagined him doing just that.
“Or how I’d love to take my time peeling off all the layers of your clothing till you’re standing before me in naught but your skin?”
Her skin prickled rosily at the thought.
“Do you want to hear how your scent is making me crowd my trousers?”
She stumbled and missed a step, but he waltzed on, carrying her with him, his glorious male hardness brushing her belly with each turning dip.
“How I want to taste and touch and torment every inch of you?”
She seemed to feel his mouth on her, licking the crease of her elbow, the curve of her breast, the dimple on her knee. Her cheeks were so hot, she was sure the entire company must be able to see her blush and wonder what he was saying to cause it.
“Do you want to hear me say I love you, Serena?”
Yes, God in heaven, yes, she wanted that. She’d never wanted anything more, but her tongue seemed stuck. She couldn’t speak a word. The way one of the muscles ticked in his cheek was a warning she couldn’t ignore.
Then suddenly she realized the music had stopped and she and Jonah coasted to a graceful halt as well. He made no move to release her from the dance hold.
“Sometimes, my lady,” he said softly, “a cat doesn’t dare look at a king. And not because the cat doesn’t wish to, but because he mustn’t. Good evening.”
He executed a perfectly correct bow and turned and left her standing on the dance floor.
***
“The evening went incredibly well,” Amelia said as she and Eleanor fluttered around Serena, two busy bees trying to prop up a drooping blossom. The maid plucked out the gemstones from Serena’s coiffure while Amelia counted them and stored them back in their velvet-lined case. “As well as could be expected, in any case.”
Since the royal duke wasn’t here hung unspoken in the air. Serena sighed at her reflection in the vanity mirror and stifled a yawn. It was nearly half past two in the morning and she was far too weary to fret over the Duke of Kent. She was more upset about Jonah’s abandonment on the dance floor. And his cryptic turnabout of the cat saying…what on earth was that about?
Not because the cat doesn’t wish to. Did he mean he was holding himself at arm’s length for her sake? Why didn’t the man just say what he meant?
“I understand we raised a healthy sum for the orphans,” Amelia said. “The marquis seemed pleased.”
Serena nodded absently, imagining how different it would be if Jonah were plucking the jewels from her hair now. He’d gather her hair in one fist and tip back her head so he could ravish her neck and—
“You met a goodly number of new people too, I collect,” Amelia prodded, yanking her out of her increasingly naughty musings.
Time to throw her a bone. After all, Amelia hadn’t been allowed to go to the ball or even the midnight supper that followed. “Yes, I met the Warringtons and the Coltons. Oh, and that Mr. Alcock you mentioned before.” Serena had suffered through a hitching, stumble-footed mazurka with the man. “For a thin fellow he perspires dreadfully.”
“I noticed. His handkerchief must have been positively dripping after the reel. I gather Mr. Alcock is an all around unpleasant person off the dance floor as well,” Amelia said, then turned to Eleanor once the last of the bejeweled pins was stored safely away. “I’ll see to Lady Serena now. You may go.”
Eleanor bobbed a reflexive curtsey and nodded sleepily. “Yes, mum, thank you kindly.”
Once the door closed behind the maid, Serena met Amelia’s gaze in the mirror. “How do you know about Mr. Alcock’s dancing?”
“I was watching from the balcony behind the musicians.”
“I still say it wasn’t right for you to be excluded. Father should be ashamed of himself.”
“Nonsense. I was exactly where I needed to be. Someone had to keep the pianist from drinking himself silly. Up you get.” Amelia prompted Serena to stand so she could unhook the long row of seed pearl buttons that marched down her spine. “However, you were not where you needed to be all night.”
“Oh?” She’d only fled to the retiring room once and that was when Mr. Alcock’s name popped up on her dance card for a second time.
“That waltz with Sir Jonah, Serena.” Amelia’s voice was tight and Serena knew her lips were pressed into a thin line of censure. “It was…ill-advised.”
“It was only a dance.”
Amelia finished unbuttoning the gown with more force than was warranted. A couple of the seed pearls plinked on the hardwood. “With a completely ineligible fellow.”
“Again. Only a dance. And if I danced only with fellows you and Father deem eligible, I’d be a hopeless wallflower.” Serena peeled off the gown, letting the silk slide down her arms and pool on the floor. She closed her eyes and imagined Jonah was doing it. A small fire sparked in her lower belly.
“You know what I mean, Serena. You and Sir Jonah were talking to each other during the waltz far more than the other dancers. What was he saying to you to make you blush so?”
Her eyes popped open. “Was I? I can’t think why. Maybe I overexerted myself and you mistook it for a blush.”
Amelia raised a skeptical brow and picked up the discarded gown.
“If you must know,” Serena said, “we were talking about old sayings. Proverbs and such.”
“Well, that sounds harmless enough.” Amelia hung the gown up in Serena’s wardrobe, smoothing a hand over the silken panels. “He didn’t…push himself forward, did he?”
“Did he make passionate love to me on the dance floor with dozens of people looking on? Is that what you’re asking?”
“Serena! What an unmaidenly thing to say.”
Jonah had made her feel pretty unmaidenly. He made her feel unsettled and dissatisfied and as if something had to happen soon or she’d burst out of her skin. But the stricken look on Amelia’s face made her take a deep breath and bite back what she was thinking.
“Nothing untoward happened between Sir Jonah and me on the dance floor. We danced a scandalous dance, I’ll admit, but it was over quickly and in full view of the entire company. So how scandalous could it actually be?”
Amelia sighed and gave her a quick hug. “Oh my dear, you really are an innocent.”
She helped Serena out of her stays and into her night rail, chattering about plans for lawn bowling, an archery tournament, and a picnic on the grounds for tomorrow. “And if the royal duke’s courier arrives in the afternoon as your father expects that he will, there will be an announcement at supper.”
A prickle of apprehension shuddered down Serena’s spine. “An announcement of what?”
“Your betrothal, of course. The marquis says all the particulars have been agreed to and the solicitors are drawing up the final documents.”
Serena’s breath hissed over her teeth.
“That’s right, my darling girl. It’s going to happen.” Amelia gave her a longer hug, patting her hair with a free hand. “I can’t wait to see the expressions on the faces of those who doubted you would ever become a royal. Mark my words. Every guest who snickered over the fact that the duke did not arrive for the ball or sent you pitying looks this evening will be standing in line to lick the sole of your slipper by tomorrow night.”
Serena didn’t want that. She didn’t want people groveling before her or currying favor. She didn’t want to be royal. She knew in a moment of crystalline clarity there was only one thing she wanted in the entire world.
Jonah Sharp.
Twenty-six
Even the most dissolute scoundrel holds himself a gentleman when he honors his word. Nowhere is this more evident than in the sporting life. A Regency buck is a dab hand at whist. He knows a good deal about horseflesh and can sense when a pony is going to run its heart out for a win.
He wouldn’t cheat on a wager unless he’s prepared for pistols at dawn. But when a gentleman is out of gentlemanly options, sometimes he must wait to see if P
rovidence will roll the dice in his favor.
From Le Dernier Mot,
The Final Word on News That Everyone
Who Is Anyone Should Know
Jonah paced the length of his chamber like a caged lion in a menagerie. The urge to slip into the corridor and find his way to Serena’s room was so strong, he wished, like Ulysses, he had some faithful friends who’d bind him to the mast to keep from answering her siren’s call.
Warrington and Colton, the traitors, were more likely to shove him into Serena’s bedchamber and then raise the household so they’d be caught together in that ruinous situation.
Jonah wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring her shame, but the ache of wanting her was fast becoming sharp-edged as a blade.
“Love is damned inconvenient,” he muttered.
It also made him suspect he was seeing things. The door to the Africa Room swung softly open and Serena stood framed by the doorway for a flicker. Then she slipped into his candlelit chamber and closed the door behind her with a soft snick of the latch.
It was no imagining. She was real and she was there.
“You shouldn’t have come, Serena.” He forced the words out. “I can’t offer you anything.”
She stood still as carved stone, her eyes enormous in the dimness. If his words cut her, she didn’t show it, but his chest ached all the same. Sonnet writers had bricks for brains. Love wasn’t hearts and flowers and stolen kisses under a full moon. Love tied a fellow’s guts in knots. Love hurt. It hurt damned badly, and the more he wounded her, the more pain he felt himself.
“I’m not asking you for anything,” she said softly.
He cocked a brow at her. “Aren’t you?”
Serena took a few steps toward him. “All right. Yes. I’m asking for you. Just you, Jonah. Just this moment. Just this night.” She straightened her spine and lifted her sweetly dimpled chin. Her nipples stood at attention beneath her night rail and thin wrapper. “Can you give me that?”
He moved toward her but stopped before she was within arm’s reach. “Let me guess. I’ve become something to check off your list?”
“No. Something to check off my life. Haven’t you ever wanted something—needed someone so badly you don’t care what you have to do to get it?”
Yes, damn it, he knew exactly what that felt like. He wanted her, didn’t he? Wanted her so badly she was like a sickness in his mind and his blood.
And his heart.
“Amelia says a courier is coming from the Duke of Kent tomorrow. It’s evidently been settled. And after that…” Serena’s little pointed tongue swept her lower lip. “If I don’t have you, Jonah, if for only one night, I’ll…regret it the rest of my life.”
What if I want more than one night leapt to the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. He’d promised Amelia Braithwaite he wouldn’t speak his heart before Serena gave the royal duke his answer. But he hadn’t pledged he wouldn’t let his body speak his love for him.
“If we do this,” he said slowly, “I can’t promise I’ll be able to stop with half-measures.”
Her eyes flared for a moment as she realized what he was saying. “I won’t want you to stop. I want you, Jonah. And I won’t settle for half-measures, either.”
“If that’s the way of it then, I’ll take you.” Jonah placed a hand at her waist as if they were beginning the waltz again and drew her close. Then he caught her hand and pressed her palm against his chest, willing her to feel the love that made him weak and strong at once. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you.”
“At Boodles?” She blinked at him. “When I was in my disguise as Cousin Rowland?”
It was perfect. The ridiculous image of her in male attire drained all the pent up tension that stretched between them. Jonah shook with suppressed laughter while Serena covered her mouth with her hand. Then he lifted her off her feet and swung her around in a circle.
“That wasn’t the first time I saw you.”
He’d been watching her for days before that without her knowledge and had roused to her repeatedly. Even so, his body had been more than ready to claim her at Boodles, even in that silly male getup.
And now his heart would let her claim him in the end.
He meant to hold back, to wait for her to respond, but something feral surged in his blood. He had to obey the urge to kiss her or something inside him would burst.
The laughter stopped in a heartbeat as he ravaged her mouth, drinking in her sweetness. He was drowning in her scent. When she answered his kiss and clutched the lapels of his banyan, pressing her breasts against his chest, blood pounded in his ears. Then the drumbeat moved much lower, to his thick cock, throbbing with life.
Jonah walked her over to the wall and pinned her against it with his body.
Don’t be such a dog, he chided himself as he ground his pelvis against hers. He should be gentler, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Serena was giving herself to him. Completely.
He’d take her.
Serena didn’t seem to think she was as fragile as he did, though. When he started to ease up, she pulled his head down with a soft groan, urging him to stay.
They took each other’s mouths, their tongues vying for supremacy in a warm wet joust. Serena nipped his lower lip, and his groin ached all the more. She made those desperate little noises at the back of her throat again, the ones that drove him to rutting madness.
His hands roamed over her, claiming each dip and valley, the curve of her back, the plumpness of her bum. He peeled off her wrapper and worked up her night rail. He heard the seam rip as he hurried it over her hips, but he was unable to stop till he’d dragged the flimsy garment over her head.
Jonah paused for a moment, taking in the sight of her. Light from the fire gilded her pale skin with a golden glow. She was like some ethereal being—a fallen angel who’d strayed from glory to tempt him beyond his capacity to resist.
“You’re stopping?” she asked, her voice dusky.
“Savoring,” he assured her.
Her sigh made her breasts shudder. “Now what?”
“Now, my love…” Surely that wasn’t a breach of his promise to Miss Braithwaite. Any rake worth his salt would call the woman in his bed “love” in the heat of passion. “I touch you as a lover should.”
With painstaking slowness, he reached out a hand. Starting at the base of her throat where her pulse jumped, he traced his fingertips over her bare skin. She didn’t move, though her breath came in hitching gasps.
She was all warm and soft and willing. Oh, the feel of Serena not trying to be in charge for a change.
Jonah paused to dally in every crevice, the crease beneath her slender arm, the delicate skin at the bend of her elbow. His cock urged him to hurry, but he forced himself to take his time.
This night might be all he ever had of her. It would have to last a lifetime.
He ran his fingertip around the outline of her hands, to the deep base of each finger and threaded his way around her knuckles. He taunted the curve beneath each breast. He drew increasingly smaller circles around her navel. His hand dropped lower, and he teased her legs apart.
She draped her arms over his shoulders and gave herself over to him.
His fingers launched a gentle invasion, all the while his gaze never left her face. Jonah watched as desire, pleasure, and need parted her lips and made her eyes go soft and hazy.
When Serena started to untie the belt at the waist of his banyan, he stopped her. “Not yet, love. You first.”
“No, Jonah.” She pressed her fingertips against his lips. “Once I wed the duke, I expect there’ll be plenty of times in my life when I’ll be a party to couplings where only one takes pleasure.”
Her words were like a door slamming shut in his heart. He didn’t know if he felt like dying or hitting something. Preferably the royal duke.
“I don’t want it to be that way for you and me.” She stood tiptoe to brush her lips across his. “We go together or not
at all.”
Then she unbelted the banyan and pushed it off his shoulders with excruciating slowness. A breath of night found its way in around the nearby window casement, cooling his feverish skin.
“This lover’s touch you speak of,” she said, her voice low and sultry, “it must go both ways. After all, if you’re not pleased, how can I take pleasure? Now stand still.”
There she is. That was the Serena he knew. Even though she was coming to him a virgin, she still wanted to be in command of this adventure. He decided to allow it for now.
Jonah didn’t move. He scarcely drew breath as her hands smoothed over him, tickling along his ribs and teasing his nipples into hard knots. Then she cupped his ballocks, rolling the twin orbs between her fingers. He’d never realized he could ache so hard.
She squeezed the heavy muscle in his thighs, then stepped close enough to reach around and run a thumb along the crevice of his buttocks. He was in danger of spending without her even touching his cock once.
“Where the hell did you learn that?”
She bit her lower lip. “I’ve been studying up. As it turns out, the Wyndebourne library houses a slim memoir of the life and times of a French courtesan…and her arts.” Serena cast him a sly grin. “I read it so voraciously, my fluency in French has improved out of all knowing.”
She moved closer, then stepped back a pace. Jonah gritted his teeth as her breasts teased him with glancing brushes. Her soft belly pressed against his cock, but Serena carefully avoided touching it with her clever hands. Instead she raked her nails over his ribs and splayed her fingers across his flat belly. When she finally grasped him, it was all he could do not to erupt in her hands.
“Serena, I can’t—” he began, then she surprised him by leaping up, hooking her hands behind his neck, and wrapping her legs around his waist.
“Can’t what?” she asked with feigned innocence as she wiggled against him, her hot moistness tormenting the tip of his cock.