After they were seated, she tilted back her head and heaved a contented sigh at the sight of the glittering stars. "This feels like a tiny slice of indoor heaven."
"I couldn't agree more."
Lifting her head, she found his gaze resting upon her. Seated with a slight slouch at his end of the settee, his fingers lightly linked and resting on his flat stomach, his long legs stretched before him, casually crossed at the ankles, he appeared the personification of relaxation. Which was quite vexing, as she felt so very… unrelaxed.
Hoping she sounded as unconcerned as he looked, she asked, "Do you intend to keep all the animals you rescue?"
"I have until now, but given how rapidly their numbers keep growing, I suppose I'll need to consider allowing some to be taken in by others-provided I'm assured the animals would be properly cared for."
"You've never asked Samuel to stop?"
"No. And I've no intention of doing so. He has a way with animals that I've never seen before. He'd make an excellent veterinarian. I plan to discuss with him the possibility of sending him to school."
She didn't even attempt to hide her surprise. "You'd send your footman to school?"
"If he wished to go. He has a true talent. And a dedication."
"That is very generous of you."
"Not as much as you might think. I have an ulterior motive."
"Which is?"
A hint of mischief danced in his eyes. "I've always wanted a protege. It's quite fashionable, you know. Of course, now that Samuel has expanded his strays beyond merely animals, I'm thinking I'll need to expand our enterprise to include some sort of employment agency."
Carolyn studied him and inwardly shook her head. She'd always believed herself an astute judge of character, yet in this case it seemed she'd done a poor job of it. Not that she hadn't always liked him-she'd found him personable and charming from the first time they met. But she'd never considered him as anything more than what he appeared-an extremely attractive scapegrace.
Clearly she'd been very wrong. And that was very unsettling. He'd proven difficult to resist when she thought him nothing more than handsome. But now… now there were things to admire about him-other than his charm and good looks. Noble things. And that was an attraction she knew would prove even more difficult to resist. And which begged the question…
Did she really want to resist?
The voice inside her answered No! so quickly, so emphatically, so loudly, it almost seemed as if she'd said it out loud.
"No, what?" he asked with a questioning look.
Dear God, she had said it out loud. "Nothing," she said, then speedily added, "I recall you telling me that you don't like to share. Yet your actions belie your words, Lord Surbrooke."
"Daniel… my extremely lovely, very dear, greatly talented, highly amusing, extraordinarily intelligent, possessor of the most kissable lips I've ever seen, as well as an excellent memory, Lady Wingate." He blew out an exaggerated breath. "That is getting to be rather a mouthful, you know. You could put me out of my misery."
She pretended she hadn't heard him say kissable lips. "And miss hearing what you'll come up with next? I think not."
"Just my luck. As for my assertion that I don't like to share, I suppose I should clarify my statement. It depends on what I'm sharing." His glittering gaze seemed to burn through her clothing, to scorch her skin. "And whom I'm sharing it with."
And with those few words, a plethora of images bombarded her-of him and her sharing. Heated kisses. Sensual touches. Their bodies.
Myriad wants and needs and emotions swamped her, confusing her, leaving her flustered and completely tongue-tied. She licked her suddenly dry lips, then stilled as he watched the gesture.
She had to swallow twice to locate her voice. "Samuel is fortunate to have found you."
"Actually, I am the fortunate one." He hesitated, as if debating whether to continue, then finally said, "Before he came to work for me, my life had become… unfulfilling. Samuel's charitable endeavors have given me something worthwhile and productive to do. Helping him makes me feel useful. And has brought home the cold, stark reality of the over whelming number of animals-and people-in desperate need of help."
She nodded slowly, soaking in words she never would have attributed to him. A fissure of shame rippled through her at the realization of how deeply she'd obviously misjudged him. "When you say your life had become unfulfilling, what do you mean?"
"I felt a mounting, frustrating sense of restlessness. Boredom. Emptiness. And really, more that anything, uselessness."
"But what of the earldom? Your properties?"
"That doesn't require as much of my time as you might think. I have an excellent steward who keep things running so smoothly I'm barely needed. My households are flawlessly run. I could go away for months and not a ripple would occur on the calm water of my earldom." Carolyn noted his eyes were filled with shadows, and wished she knew the cause of them.
Then he flashed a quick smile. "Gets rather tiresome, not being needed. Thanks to Samuel and the animals, I'm feeling a great deal less of that."
"You are very fortunate, my lord. I've suffered from feelings similar to those you described. Unlike you however, I haven't yet found an activity or cause to alleviate the emptiness." She rarely discussed such things with anyone other than Sarah, yet before she could stop herself, she found herself saying, "I've discovered it's very difficult to go from being needed on a daily basis to not being needed at all."
He straighten his slouched position and shook his lead. "You are mistaken. Your sister, your friends, hey need you and care for you deeply. I've seen it every time we're all together."
"I know that, of course. However, Emily and Julianne have their own families, and now Sarah is married."
"And you're wondering exactly where you fit in." Her gaze searched his. "You sound as if you know tow that feels."
"Most likely because I do. Precisely. And although I realize you've had to make difficult adjustments I wouldn't wish on anyone, I still find myself envious of the fact that for at least a period of time you felt needed every day."
His words, the sadness lurking in his eyes, rendered her speechless. Before she could even think of a reply, he blinked several times, as if coming out of a trance. A rueful smile curved his lips. "Egad, pardon me for allowing the conversation to turn so… maudlin."
As she wasn't certain how to tell him that she actualy found his unguarded words fascinating, she instead forced a light tone and asked, "You'd prefer to discuss the weather?"
"Actually, no. That isn't what I'd prefer at all."
"Oh? And what is your preference?"
Her breath caught at the heated look that flared in his eyes. His gaze wandered slowly down her form, lingering for several seconds on her ankles before traveling back up. By the time their gazes once again met, his eyes glittered with a combination of heat and mischievous intent that rendered her barely able to pull any air into her lungs.
He reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over the back of her hand. "I would like, very much, to see your tree climbing scar."
Chapter Eleven
My lover enjoyed billiards but found a new appreciation for the game when I hiked up my skirts and bent provocatively over the table. He especially enjoyed this new sport when I neglected to don my drawers. Indeed, after two shattering climaxes, I gained a new appreciation for the game myself.
Memoirs of a Mistress by An Anonymous Lady
Carolyn blinked. Out of all the possible things he could have preferred, such as a kiss-and after that teasing touch to her hand and the simmering heat in his eyes, which seemed like such promising precursors to a kiss-what he wanted most was to see her scar?
Damnation. How could she have thought him charming and intelligent when clearly "irritating" and "nincompoop" were far more apt descriptions? Before she could even think up a reply to his request, he lowered himself to one knee in front of her and his fingers slipped beneath the hem
of her gown to lightly grasp her left ankle. Warmth raced up her leg, and even as her mind commanded her to move away from his touch, her body refused to obey.
"Is it on this ankle?" he asked, setting her left foot on his upraised knee. He removed her shoe and gently massaged her instep.
A soft gasp escaped her, then she pressed her lips together to contain the moan of delight that threatened to escape at the delicious kneading. Pleasure skittered up her leg, settling low in her belly.
Dear God, she adored having her feet rubbed. And he was so good at it. And it had been so long since she'd felt such exquisite bliss. His caress was going to melt her spine. She'd wilt into a boneless, quivering mass of ecstasy then slither right onto the tiles.
"This ankle?" he repeated.
Not trusting her voice, she merely shook her head.
"Ah, the right ankle, then." But instead of releasing her left foot, his hands slowly moved upward, over her calf, never ceasing their delicious rubbing. Her fingers clutched the brocade cushion as she struggled not to squirm in delight.
When he reached her knee, she watched in shocked, wordless wonder as he slipped off her ribbon garter then slowly rolled down her stocking. The whisper of silk sliding over her flesh tingled heated tremors through her, but they faded to insignificance at the incredible sensation of his hands against her bare skin. After he set aside her stocking, he slowly pushed her gown and petticoat up to her knees.
Her bare toes curled against his muscular thigh. The sight of him on one knee before her, his dark head bent to study what he'd just uncovered, shivered an illicit thrill through her the likes of which she'd never experienced.
"Such lovely, creamy skin," he murmured, his fingers skimming lightly up and down her calf. "So soft. So smooth."
He lifted his head. The heat in his gaze seared her. Trapped in the inferno, she watched him lift her foot and press his mouth to her instep.
Another gasp escaped her, this one followed by a low moan she couldn't contain.
"You're correct." His warm breath whispered over her foot, eliciting a barrage of quivers that tickled over her every nerve ending.
"C-Correct?" she managed, sounding as breathless as she felt.
"There is no scar on this ankle. It is, in fact, the most perfect ankle I've ever seen."
The realization that he'd most assuredly seen plenty of female ankles should have appalled her. Instead she could only take in the breath-stealing reality that he was seeing-and caressing-her ankle.
He then kissed his way up her shin. Another shiver of delight trembled through her. After reaching her knee, he set her foot gently on the floor and a groan of protest rose in her throat at the loss. Before she could give it voice, however, he lifted her right foot and afforded it the same sensual treatment he'd lavished on the left. The only sounds in the conservatory were the rustle of material as he pushed up her gown, then slid off her stocking, and her own shallow, rapid breaths.
"Ah, I see the culprit," he murmured, setting the stocking on top of the other one. He minutely examined the inch-long bit of puckered skin just above her anklebone.
"Did it hurt?" he asked, brushing his fingers over the mark.
She'd barely felt the cut, but as she was incapable of stringing together that many words, she merely whispered one syllable. "No."
"'Tis almost necessary that you have such a minor flaw. Otherwise you'd be absolutely, frighteningly perfect." He studied the scar for several more seconds, then heaved an exaggerated sigh. "I'm afraid this minuscule mark doesn't count and you are absolutely perfect."
She licked her lips. "I assure you, I'm nothing of the kind."
"And I assure you, you are underestimating yourself."
He brought her foot to his mouth-his lovely, sensual mouth-but instead of kissing her there, he lightly traced his tongue over the imperfection.
A startled "Oh!" escaped her. His eyes darkened at the sound, and he repeated the gesture. What little of her spine remained seemed to evaporate.
"So beautiful," he whispered against her ankle. His hands skimmed slowly upward, caressing her skin, pushing her skirts higher. The heat of his palms touched her through the thin muslin of her drawers.
His mouth followed the same upward trail his hands forged, lightly nipping, kissing. Over her shin, her knees… how was it she'd never known that the skin behind her knees was so very sensitive?
An insistent pulse throbbed between her thighs. Her feminine folds felt slick and swollen and heavy. When he urged her legs apart, she didn't resist, and he insinuated his broad shoulders between her knees. The small part of her mind that wasn't lost in the heated fog of stunning arousal tried to interject, warn her that this was not the path she wished to go down, but that small bit was quickly overruled as sensation swamped her.
While his mouth continued its leisurely journey along her inner thigh, one of his hands strayed upward and found the opening in her drawers.
She gasped at the first touch of his fingers against her folds, a sound that tapered off into a long, vaporous sigh of pleasure as he teased her sensitive flesh with a wickedly light, circular motion. Helpless to resist the lure of such tempting pleasure, her head fell limply against the padded back of the settee and her eyes drifted shut. And for the first time in years she allowed herself the luxury of doing nothing save feel.
He slipped a finger inside her, and her entire body clenched with a pleasurable spasm. "So tight," he murmured against her thigh. "So hot and wet."
Hot, yes… she felt so hot. As if her skin were stretched too tight and consumed with fire. He stroked her with maddening leisure, each caress melting away her inhibitions, dissolving her modesty until she writhed against his hand, impatient for more. He slipped another finger inside her, pumping slowly, drawing a long, ragged moan from her throat.
She felt his other hand at her waist, then his fingers slipped from her body, dragging a soft "No" of protest from her. When she felt him tug at her drawers, she lifted her hips and he slid them down her legs.
His avid gaze riveted on her exposed sex, yet rather than experiencing any of the shyness she might have expected, her entire body tensed in an agony of anticipation, awaiting his touch. Instead, however, he plucked the rose from her lap.
"I've dreamed about doing this to you," he said softly, slowly trailing the velvety petals up her inner thigh.
She sucked in a quick breath at the tremor that shimmered through her. "You have? When?"
"Last night." He brushed the flower along the cleft of her sex, and she forgot how to breathe. "And the night before. And the night before that." Another light sweep over her swollen folds. "And numerous nights before that."
He looked up from his wicked ministrations and pinned her with his heated gaze. Then he placed the rose on the settee. "Have you ever wondered what it would feel like for me to touch you like this?" he whispered, slipping a finger deep inside her.
A sigh rushed past her lips, and her eyes slid closed. Dear God, surely he didn't expect her to answer questions when he was making her feel like… this? As if her insides had turned to a flow of warm honey. As if she were about to simultaneously melt and shatter.
"I've wondered," he said, teasing her most sensitive nub of flesh in a manner that shot liquid fire to her core. "More times than I can count. And still you're more beautiful than I ever imagined."
His fingers once against glided over her folds, inside her, teasing her toward the rapidly approaching climax building at the base of her spine. He pressed his lips to her knee, then kissed his way up her inner thighs, insinuating his shoulders farther between her legs, splaying them wider. And then time seemed to stop as his tongue glided over her aroused sex.
For several seconds her body tensed, but then her initial shocked reaction evaporated into a low groan of helpless pleasure. She forced her eyes open. The sight of his dark head buried between her legs, the sensation of his lips and tongue and fingers caressing her folds, was the most erotic thing she'd ever experien
ced. The musky scent of her arousal rose in the warm air, mingling with the fragrant flowers. She slumped lower on the settee, and with what sounded like a growl of approval, he lifted her thighs, setting them over his shoulders.
Lost in sensation, she closed her eyes and reveled in the magical torment his mouth and fingers wrought on her, each teasing lick, every relentless stroke touching her deeper, pushing her closer to the brink. When she soared over the edge, a sharp cry escaped her. Her back arched and her fingers bunched in the muslin of her ruched up gown as an intense climax throbbed through her. When the spasms subsided into mere quivers, she collapsed, breathless, limp, and utterly sated.
She felt him trailing light kisses along her inner thigh, and managed to drag her heavy eyelids open halfway. His eyes burned like a pair of flames. Gazes locked, he slowly lowered her boneless legs from his shoulders. Then he moved closer, leaning over her, until only inches separated their faces.
"Say my name," he demanded in a rough, husky rasp.
She licked her lips and struggled to find her voice. "Lord Surbrooke."
He shook his head and skimmed one palm up her leg, slipping it beneath her to curve over her bare bottom. He pulled her closer, until the hard ridge of his erection that strained against his breeches nestled against her sex. "Daniel."
The feel of him pressed against her so intimately momentarily robbed her of speech. After swallowing, she whispered, "Daniel."
A bit of the tension in his face abated, and with a low groan he slowly lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips parted, welcoming the invasion of his tongue. He tasted of brandy and of her, an utterly foreign combination that intoxicated her. The inner fire he'd stoked and just sated roared back to life, demanding more. Her fingers sifted through his thick hair, urging him closer. He flexed his hips, pressing his erection tighter against her, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to rip open his breeches and thrust all that lovely, hard flesh into her hungry body.
Instead, however, he lifted his head. Confused, she opened her eyes and found him regarding her with that same intense expression.
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