Greville bound her to him, pressing his face into the silken warmth of her hair. If this were an illusion, he wanted it never to end. It took several minutes of contact—and his body’s inevitable response to her nearness—before he decided he wasn’t hallucinating and it really was Amanda he held in his arms.
In which case, he needed to put her at a distance before his hungry body tempted him to bring her closer still.
He was, with difficulty, forcing himself to release her when, apparently realising the impropriety of her actions, she disentangled herself from his arms, blushing.
Though thrilled by the spontaneous warmth of her greeting, he tried to rein in his stampeding hopes. ‘What are you doing at Ashton?’ He recalled Sands’s hesitation when speaking about the family, and sudden alarm pulsed through him. ‘Nothing has happened to—’
‘No, no, Papa is fine. I…just needed to come home.’
Alarm of a different sort filled him as the other matter she would have felt compelled to see her father about flashed into his mind. ‘For…some particular reason?’
She stepped away from him. ‘If there was, how would you feel about it?’
Hoping she wasn’t referring to an engagement with Trowbridge, but afraid she might be, he asked, ‘About your connection with a certain…gentleman?’
‘Precisely.’
Panic whipped through him and he felt a searing pain, as if his heart were shattering. For a moment he couldn’t summon even thoughts, much less speech.
The new Greville, noble gentleman that he was, would want only the best for her. He’d congratulate her on achieving her fondest desire and wish her every happiness.
Greville opened his lips to say just that. But before those syllables emerged, the old Greville wrested away control and he heard himself cry, ‘Do you really love Trowbridge? Do you want to give yourself to him? Do you want his hands, his mouth, on you every night for the rest of your life? Will he worship you with his heart and all the passion within him…as I would?’
While her eyes widened and her lips parted, Greville found himself on one knee before her, rushing on, ‘I know he can offer you the brilliant future and position you’ve always wanted. But I can’t let you go to him without telling you how I feel. I think I started loving you the moment you frowned at that disreputable specimen besmirching your pristine entryway—but made him welcome anyway. I tried to conceal my feelings, even from myself, but by the time you left for London, I could no longer deny the truth, though I kept it from you. I said nothing because I wanted you to arrive in London unencumbered by any previous attachment, free to pursue your dreams.
‘Though my wealth will never match Trowbridge’s,’ he rushed on, desperate to get it all out before she stopped him with a flat refusal, ‘you would be mistress of Blenhem Hill, filling the role of a country gentleman’s wife, a task you would perform as expertly as you would that of society hostess. One I think you enjoy. There’s even a seat in Parliament in a nearby borough I might stand for. If you would consider, my darling, making me the happiest man alive by agreeing to marry me, no one could love you or desire you more than I do and always will.’
She shook her head wonderingly. ‘You truly love me, then?’
‘“Love” isn’t large enough to encompass all I feel. For weeks I tried to forget you, mourned losing you, pined for you, tried to convince myself that I could build a life without you. The misery I experienced only proved to convince me of the depth of my emotions. I…I know you care for me. Can I dare hope you could love me even half so well, and marry me, and be content as the wife of a country gentleman and member of Parliament, rather than lady to some great leader of the Lords?’
‘As long as I am your wife, that’s all that matters,’ she murmured, pulling him up from his kneeling stance and leaning in to his kiss.
His dazzled mind could scarcely comprehend her assent, for the instant her lips met his, all his thoughts dissolved. Greville harnessed every iota of the joy and wonder coursing through him and put it into that kiss.
After a reverent, gentle brush of his mouth against hers, he deepened the pressure, using a sweep of his tongue to trace and caress the outline of her lips. Moaning, she swayed into his chest, opening to him.
Fired by her invitation, he plunged within the sweet warmth of her mouth, sought out her tongue, teased and traced it, sucked and nibbled gently. Then harder, faster, deeper, until desire pulsed in his head and the sweet sound of her gasping breaths filled his ears.
Not until one hand began to creep towards her breast and his arm moved to pull her closer against his turgid length did prudence break the hold of need, and he realised he must stop before he was beyond caring that the butler waited outside and her father and cousin slept somewhere down the hall.
Gently he broke the kiss, setting her at arm’s length, while both of them tried to catch their breath. Wonder and elation and desire filled him until he was so effervescent with happiness, he felt he might float to the moon and shout his happiness from the skies. ‘Shall I speak to your father? Tomorrow, of course, ’tis too late tonight! Shall we have the banns called this Sunday? But, no, you’ll want to finish your Season.’
Shaking her head in the negative, she trailed loving fingers over his face, his lips. He sighed with bliss and angled his face into her hands, eddies of delight coursing through every nerve. Fortunately, since he hardly could string two words together when she touched him thus, she said, ‘I’ve learned all I needed to know from London. I don’t need to go back.’
Some other imperative tickled at the back of his mesmerised mind. ‘Lady Parnell?’ he mumbled.
‘I think she will understand. And if she doesn’t…having you in my life, my love, will more than compensate for her disapproval and anything else I leave behind in London.’
She brought his face down to hers and kissed him again. This time, he let her take the lead,
By the time she stepped back, the new Greville’s brain had ceased to function. Old Greville instincts were taking over, suggesting he urgently needed a bed, a sofa, a soft pile of hay, or any other reasonably comfortable horizontal surface.
But as he reached up to pull her back to him, a small clod of mud fell from his bespattered coat, breaking into dust on the fabric of her gown, and reality returned in a rush.
With a groan, he made himself release her again, finding it even harder this time, now that he knew he had her love. ‘You inflame me so, I should like to devour you whole, now where we stand. Perhaps I should ask your papa to lock you up until the wedding day! I’ve wanted you so long, I’m not sure how I will endure waiting until all the banns are read. But forgive me, I’m covered in dirt from the road. Let me bid you goodnight, my sweet, and meet you tomorrow when I’m more presentable.’
He would have bowed and left her, but she stayed him with a hand to his arm—and gave him that siren’s smile that sent a rush of sensation pulsing through his member. ‘Then you need to be bathed, do you not?’
His mind flew to an image of warm water, naked bodies, Amanda’s full breasts floating atop the surface, pink nipples peeking at him, while she soaped…
Heat blasted through him, searing any reply he might have intended right off his lips.
Before he could get his tongue untangled, she continued, ‘It was the custom in medieval times, was it not? The lady of the manor bathed guests. Imagine what wicked nights those knights must have experienced after such a ritual. Why not order a tub sent to your chamber…and let me show you?’
Trying to keep that seductive vision from overwhelming his senses again, he replied, a bit desperately, ‘If I allow you to do that, I’ll never survive waiting until after the wedding.’
‘I don’t want you to wait,’ she said. ‘Oh, my love, I have struggled and denied and tried to will away my feelings even more strenuously than you! Now that we have found each other again despite all the obligations and expectations meant to keep us apart, all I want to do is surrender…and revel i
n that love. I want your kiss…your hands…your mouth on me.’ She paused and slid her hand slowly down his trouser front, smiling as he gasped. ‘I want everything you can give me.’
Dimly, in the far corner of his brain, the new Greville was nattering on about sleeping fathers and inquisitive cousins and gossiping servants. Snuffing out the sound, the deliriously happy old Greville murmured, ‘Tonight and ever after, I’ll give my lady all she desires.’
‘Then kiss me again.’ Placing his hand over her breast, she pulled his mouth back to hers.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8492-4
SOCIETY’S MOST DISREPUTABLE GENTLEMAN
Copyright © 2011 by Janet Justiss
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Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman Page 26