“Richard.” Her voice trembled with longing.
“I should leave now.”
He was embarrassed by his words, Abby could tell but she felt suddenly certain that he didn’t necessarily regret them. He did find her beautiful and abruptly she felt beautiful and powerful as well. Or perhaps powerfully uncertain. “Richard?” she whispered running a hand up his chest. She could feel the heat of his skin through the linen of his shirt, feel his heart beating rapidly against her palm. The pace matched her own though his breathing hitched at her touch.
She wanted to do something to show him how touching his words were, how far they went to heal her. A kiss, perhaps, but his head was tilted back, high and away from her. Out of her reach and his body was a tense as steel, as if he could will her touch away though he made no effort to remove himself. With few other options, Abby slid her arms around his waist and pressed her mouth to the opening of his shirtfront, her lips meeting the hot flesh of his hard chest.
“Abby,” Richard whispered, his brogue suddenly more pronounced. “Watch what ye do, lass.”
It was a warning but even as he said it, Richard’s hand slid into the hair at the back of her head and he urged her head back farther to look at him. His mossy green eyes were turbulent, his brow tightly knit. He looked angry, but… not, Abby thought. Then his gaze shifted to her lips and Abby knew. She knew he was thinking about kissing her and knowing no other way to issue the invitation, closed her eyes and stretched up against him.
“My God, angel,” he breathed with a groan. His fingers curled into her scalp. “Do ye know what yer about?”
“Yes, Richard. I’m hoping you’ll kiss me,” she confessed softly. “If you don’t want to, that’s all right but...”
Richard’s mouth descended across hers, effectively cutting off her words. Abby thrilled as their lips met, filling her with the same heat, that same passionate urgency she had felt that other night. Slipping her arms under his loose shirt, Abby skimmed her hands along Richard’s hard stomach and around his back, reveling in his groan of pleasure. His skin was hot and smooth beneath her palms. She lifted her hands to his chest, pushing his shirt up as she went. With a grumble, Richard released her before shedding his waistcoat and shirt in short order. Abby marveled at muscles that rippled across his chest and abdomen. It had been many a year since she’d been so privileged to see his bared chest. Richard had changed over the years, filling out the lean frame from lad to man. If his recent imprisonment had resulted in any weight loss, Abby thought, she would be hard pressed to find where it had been lost.
He was beautiful in form, broad and powerful.
She could feel the strength of his muscles flexing as he reached lower, boldly cupping her bottom and lifting her against him, capturing her lips once again.
“Oh, Richard,” Abby sighed when his mouth left hers to trail hot kisses down her neck. His chin chafed lightly against her skin, prompting Abby to run her fingers along his jaw, exploring the roughened texture of an unseen beard. She loved the feel of it abrading her palm but wanted more – oh, so much more.
Curling her fingers into his hair, she urged his mouth to hers once more. Parting her lips, she invited him to explore her as she longed to discover him. With a groan, Richard capitulated, his mouth plundering hers until Abby’s head was swimming. A low moan came from deep within her. A sound of longing and surrender.
Richard must have recognized it for what it was, for he laid her back on her bed and lowered himself on top of her. The hard pressure of his body above her a sharp contrast to the soft yielding beneath her. His hands, freed from holding her up, came up to her shoulders, pushing her dress down allowing his teeth to rake across her collarbone and his lips to caress the soft flesh of her swelling breasts.
“By God, but I want ye, angel.”
Chapter 23
I can resist anything except temptation.
- Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s Fan
Richard couldn’t deny his thickly worded confession, nor could he deny that her reflexive response to wrap herself about him and draw him even more tightly against her lithe body thrilled him. “It surprises me, knowing ye as long as I have. It amazes me with its intensity. I feel rash and impulsive when just days ago I had thought I had no recklessness remaining in me anymore. Yet here I am aching with want, with desire,” he punctuated the words by pressing his hips against hers, drawing her attention to his rampant hardness. He wanted to take her, lose himself in her, but his conscience nagged at him. Unable to stop that tiny voice from niggling at him, he added more calmly, “But I cannot have you, I know. Nor should I want to. You are too innocent and I promised your brother. He would kill me on the spot, if he saw us now.”
“Jack doesn’t rule my life.”
“No, but my honor tends to rule mine.” Richard dipped his head for one last kiss, glorying in the feel of her soft lips against his, pushing aside the urge to ignore his good sense and carrying on without a care. Was it truly wrong to seek some pleasure? To find joy, if only for a few moments, in her arms? Guilt raised its ugly head while Richard’s arousal tamped it down. However, his mind demanded that he focus and, with a sigh, Richard rolled unto his back. Unable to resist, he pulled Abby along with him until she was atop his chest.
Willing away the last bit of desire, Richard took a calming breath. He needed to remember why he was here. This wasn’t it. Or was it? Richard wondered. He’d been longing for Abby for days, longing for a reason to see her. Was this all just a convenient excuse to kiss her again?
No, it was so much more than that. She was so much more than that. Brushing her hair back from her cheeks, he tenderly framed her face in his hands. “Abby, this is not what I came here for.”
“I didn’t suppose so,” she answered, but Richard could hear a touch of defeat in her words, drawing his attention back to her.
Raising his head to capture her lips for a brief but passionate kiss, Richard dropped back on the pillow with a rueful smile, bending an arm up behind his head so that he might better see her. “In truth, I’ve been wanting to do that again since the night on the terrace, but I truly came here in search of a sympathetic ear.”
Abby’s expression softened. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she then rested her hand lightly against his cheek. “Beneath that teasing, I can hear the worry in your voice. Have you made no progress at all, then?”
“None. None at all. I must confess all this political skullduggery has worn my patience thin,” he ground out, his free hand, which had been absently caressing her hip, fisted, suddenly as tight with frustration as his voice was. In terse words, he covered his lack of progress over the past few days. Rosebery’s refusal to get involved, since he currently was not holding an office, CB and Stanhope both still blaming one another for the War Department’s lack of intelligence on the matter, and Richard’s inability to get in to see the Queen. “Francis was finally able to talk to Henry Matthews, the current Home Secretary. There is really nothing in the man’s position to allow him any voice on the matter, but still… Matthews was sympathetic, of course, but there is nothing he can do that we aren’t already doing. He did offer to assist Francis in his divorce petition though.”
“Good news for Francis,” Abby said with quiet approval. “Matthews was instrumental in the cross-examination of Sir Charles Diike in that scandal of the Campbell divorce last year. He will be a tremendous help to Francis, I think.”
Richard stared at Abby with a mixture of amusement and amazement.
“What?” Abby asked innocently. “I do read the papers, you know.”
“You were always a bright lass,” Richard conceded before adding, “So what suggestions do you have for me, lady brilliance? What shall I do next if I am to have any hope remaining?”
Self-consciousness forgotten, Abby crossed her arms casually across his chest before resting her chin on them so she could face him comfortably. Her eyes, where they could not meet his for all the days past, were steady on h
is. The position was intimate but held a comfortable note of long friendship as well. She stared at him thoughtfully while Richard toyed absently with a lock of her hair. “Have you tried Cranborne, Richard?”
“Who?” Richard asked, almost seeing the wheels spinning in Abby’s mind.
“Viscount Cranborne,” Abby told him. “James Cecil. He is one of the young gentleman I’ve been introduced to this Season. He’s really quite kind, I think, and very nice…”
“Abby…”
Abby huffed but offered a grin. “Cranborne is the Prime Minister’s son, Richard. You might know him, perhaps. You’re of an age.”
Richard searched his memory, picking through those years so long ago when he had frequented the gambling halls that catered to young men of the ton. “James Cecil. I think I remember him. You’re right, he’s a pleasant enough chap but I can hardly appeal to him for help.”
“Why not?” Abby asked. “He might be able to get you a interview with his father.”
“He’s an Oxford man, Abby.”
“Are you quite serious?” Abby asked in disbelief, lifting her chin in disbelief. “You’re going to allow a university rivalry stand between you and your brother?”
Richard smiled sheepishly and shook his head. “It is not I, Abby. I’m saying that Cranborne would be unlikely to grant me a favor when Cambridge handily trounced Oxford in cricket while we were both at university.”
“Richard, really.”
“No, no, I’m quite serious,” Richard protested. “It was a humiliating defeat.”
Abby shook her head, muttering under her breath, “Men! How about Arthur Balfour then? If he is an Oxford man, it was long before your time and he is the Prime Minister’s nephew. Not quite as good as a son, but close nonetheless.”
Richard thought about it with a nod. “He’s the secretary to Scotland now as well, I think. Brilliant, Abby, really, quite brilliant. Thank you.”
Lifting his head, Richard kissed her tenderly and earning a lovely blush in return.
“I can also tell that Balfour is hosting a garden party the afternoon after next,” Abby offered in a whisper, though her eyes sparkled brightly. “Will that earn me another kiss?”
“As many as you like.” Richard reached up and, cupping a hand behind her head, drew her down for another, more leisurely kiss. “Ahh, angel, what would I do without you? You’ve helped me in ways you’ll never know this afternoon. Now, if only you knew the Queen!”
Abby blinked, feeling the fool for not thinking of it earlier. No, she wasn’t acquainted with the Queen, but she knew someone who was. Someone who was also a bosom mate to the Commander-in-Chief of the Queen’s armies. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? It might work, but the possibility of failure was too strong to mention it and give Richard false hope.
“What is it?”
Abby focused on Richard once more, casting him what she hoped was a seductive smile as she ran a finger lightly across his lower lip. “Nothing. I am glad I was able to distract you from your troubles, if only for a moment.”
“In truth, I feel quite guilty for straying from my mission,” Richard said gruffly. “But how can I deny that you’ve become the most alluring distraction for me?”
Abby felt her blush rise but her confidence did as well. How curious it was that all her worry, her self-consciousness was gone. Richard’s honest appreciation of her seemed to have easily banished the torment that had lingered about her for so long. “Ahh, Richard, you have become a most welcome diversion from a tedious Season, as well.”
Richard cast her a grin before urging her down for another searing kiss.
A knock sounded at the door, immobilizing them both. Lips still met, they stared into one another’s eyes, frozen in place.
“Abygail?” Another knock before the knob rattled. Oona’s strident voice raised a pitch. “Why is this door locked? Abygail, you must answer. Lord Aylesbury is below and waiting for your ride.”
Pulling away, Richard cast Abby a fierce frown. “What? You can’t go riding with him!”
“Why ever not, Richard?” Abby asked with some amusement, as she pushed off of him and off the bed as well.
“Because he… he’s…” Richard floundered, raking a hand through his hair with some frustration. “You’re not planning on marrying him, are you?”
Abby eyed Richard with curiosity, trying not to be distracted by the alluring sight of his bared chest, as she straightened her bodice. It was a question Richard asked with some intensity, evincing enough interest to send her hopes soaring skyward. This entire afternoon had boosted even her wildest dreams, changing a moment she had anticipated with dread into an exchange that exceeded her wildest fantasies. Still, it was just a moment. Richard had not mentioned anything further, so Abby thought it best not to allow him too much confidence. Still… he was interested. She wavered, and finally settled for the truth. “He has not asked.”
Richard’s frown only deepened. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
With a sigh, Abby decided on even more honesty. “It had been my intention to never wed.”
A moment of relief flooded Richard before her words fully registered. What ever did she mean by that? “Why not?”
“Because of…” Abby waved a hand vaguely around her face.
Disbelief and pure anger washed over Richard. Anger, not at Abby, but at all those who had ever made her feel unworthy. Still, that she believed it! “I am tempted to take you over my knee.”
Hands on her hips, Abby thrust out her chin in challenge. “I’d like to see you try!”
Richard pounced toward her, sending Abby stumbling backward in surprise. He dove toward her, catching her about the waist. With a squeal, Abby was swung nearly over his head in a whirl of skirts and petticoats before he brought her down none-too-gently on the bed and dropped down on top of her. He chuckled at her startled expression, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I have always defeated you in feats of strength,” Richard whispered softly, brushing a gentle kiss across her lips.
Abby melted into the kiss, her fingers skimming across his cheeks tenderly. “You have always defeated me,” she murmured her agreement softly. Her heart pounded in her chest, bursting with love.
Nuzzling her neck, Richard whispered huskily, “Don’t go.”
“Give me a reason.”
“I don’t like the fellow.”
Abby chuckled, though her heart melted just a little more. His jealousy – though he might not recognize it as such – was empowering. Cradling his head in her arms, she nipped his earlobe playfully and whispered into his ear, “Not a good enough reason.”
Another knock, more urgent this time, shook the door. “Abygail Merrill, I know you’re in there. Either open this door right this instant, or I will have Cortland knock it down!”
“I have a key, mum,” the butler responded.
Abby looked at Richard and stifled a giggle before calling out, “I am changing, Oona. I will be straight down.”
“No, you won’t,” Richard whispered fiercely, holding her tightly.
“Yes, I will!” Abby squirmed out from beneath him and snatched up his shirt and waistcoat, tossing them to him. “You need to leave so that I might change.”
“How do you suggest I do so?” Richard asked, jerking a thumb to the door. “Your evil stepmother awaits just beyond those doors.”
Abby glanced meaningfully toward the window, which faced the rear of the townhouse, and back at Richard.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” Abby insisted, pushing him along the way. “It’s your only choice unless you’d like to compromise me completely.”
“There are many things I’d like to do to you,” Richard answered roguishly. However, compromising her wasn’t one of them, he allowed. Abby had been provided enough negative attention recently without him adding to it. The last thing she needed was a scandal of any sort. “Fine, I will go. For now. When will I see you again?”
“We’re
to St. Audley tomorrow for the duke’s picnic and ball,” Abby told him. “We shan’t return until the next morning.”
“Is Aylesbury going?”
“Richard…”
“Is he?” Richard persisted, finally acknowledging that it was envy, pure and simple, that ate at him. He didn’t want Abby near the fellow. He wanted her near him, as close and often as possible. “Promise me you will not dance with him.”
“Richard!” Abby laughed with a shake of her head. “You need to leave!”
“Not until you promise not to dance with him.”
Placing a gentle hand on his chest, Abby stood on her tiptoes and kissed Richard lightly. “I will only promise you that you have nothing to fear of Lord Aylesbury, Richard. Is that good enough?”
Grunting in begrudging assent, Richard raised the sash, throwing up the window. “I’ll be off then, but Abby? No waltzes!”
Chapter 24
I hate to hear you talk about all women as if they were fine ladies instead of rational creatures. None of us want to be in calm waters all our lives.
- Jane Austen, Persuasion
Later that night
“A word with you, Father, if I might,” Abby requested, peeking her head into the small study her father had claimed as his own when they’d come to London. The simple room, with its white painted shelving and pastel rug, was a far cry from the ancient glory of his study at Glen Sannox House. Perhaps it was the décor or the proportion of man to space, but Haddington looked larger and more dominant than ever.
Abby wouldn’t let sudden uncertainty of that moment deter her mission, however. Richard’s admiration of her, of her spirit and of her person had given Abby more confidence in herself and in her future than she’d felt in years. In years past, she had never so much as asked her father to pass the saltcellar. Today, she planned to do so much more.
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