She turned her head in his direction. "I can finish this by myself."
"I hope not." He grinned and nipped her earlobe. "I am convinced I am quite an essential part of this situation. You will disillusion me if it is not true."
"I meant my clothing," she said with another delightful laugh.
It reassured him like nothing else could. She seemed to understand his hesitation, and was more than willing to give him a reason to retreat, with no demonstration of hurt feelings. He tightened his arms around her, nuzzling her neck once more. He found himself at a loss for words, so he left his swirling emotions unsaid.
He could explain himself in a much better fashion, one which would bring them both a great deal of pleasure.
"Your clothing is proving to be most unwelcome." He unfastened it and let the dress drop to the carpet. He had a moment to appreciate the curve of her waist, and the way it swooped over the roundness of her bottom. In the next instant, she slowly turned to face him, and his eyes were feasting on the beauty displayed for his pleasure. Everything about this woman was perfection, even the way her toes curled on the carpet, as if nervous by his perusal.
He grinned as he pulled her into his arms. "Gemma, you should never wear clothing, ever again."
She snuggled against him, laughing. "What a scoundrel you are." Her hands began an exploration of his body, making him momentarily unable to respond. He adored the way her fingertips skimmed over his back, dancing lightly over his waist, and then down farther...
She wriggled against his arousal. He nearly told her to cease, before it caused the proceedings to halt earlier than he had planned, but the sheer wicked joy on her face was worth every moment of his agony.
"Perhaps I was wrong about you never wearing clothing," he managed. "You are quite the scoundrel yourself."
She grinned and then attempted another wriggling, reminding Miles of how delectable he had found her, at their first meeting, when he had been utterly tempted by the same movements she was making now. He had never anticipated he would have her in his bed.
Her bed.
Bed. He needed her in bed, desperately, and at this very moment.
He picked her up in his arms, startling her, but she quickly recovered. She began kissing him, tender little teasing kisses across his chest, while he strode to the tester bed in the corner of the room. He was amazed that he could walk, actually, for he was dazed merely from having her in his arms, from the thought of making love to her soon.
He lowered her to the bed, pretending he was going to drop her at the last moment. She squeaked out a protest and clasped her hands tightly around his neck, giving him a warning look that was interrupted by laughter.
He could lose his heart completely to this woman. Perhaps he already had.
Before he could succumb to those thoughts, he gently placed her against the pillows, and lay down atop her.
"I cannot bear to have you away from me even the slightest bit." He punctuated his words with another passionate kiss, one that left them both breathless.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, ensuring he could not move his mouth from hers. "If I am forbidden to wear clothing, I shall wear you instead."
He grinned against her mouth. "What an intriguing notion."
Her hands slid down his shoulders, and over his back, and then up again. He could not hope to halt his movements against her. His body was impatient to be inside of her, though he told himself to wait, to increase her pleasure before thinking of his own. She nearly destroyed his resolve, however, with her hands smoothing over his entire body, sighing with contentment at the same time.
His kiss became more demanding. She responded in kind. He tore himself away so that he could taste her skin once more, taking the tempting morsel of her nipple into his mouth. She gave a cry of pleasure, and it spurred him on. His fingers danced over her skin, eager to reach the spot that would have her crying out even more intensely.
But her hands moved his aside, so that she could touch him. Her eyes widened with genuine pleasure, and then she began stroking the hard length of him.
"Gemma," he pleaded. He thought he was asking her to stop, but not really, for her soft skin and determined grip were heavenly. He needed to regain control, yet how could he deny anything she wanted? It was impossible, especially when it was providing him with the most exquisite pleasure he had ever known.
He lifted himself slightly, to give her room to continue her ministrations. To his surprise, she pushed at him gently. He gave her a questioning look. She merely grinned and pushed him onto his back, and then she clambered atop him, seating herself until he was completely filling her.
Her head dropped back with a luscious moan that made him grab her hips and plunge even more deeply inside her. He needed more of those pleasurable cries. He craved every response from her body, from the tightened nipples, to the flush across her chest, to the wildness of her hair whipping around her beatific face.
He sat up abruptly and wrapped his arms tightly around her, continuing to stroke the sweetness surrounding him. She rode him sweetly, yet determinedly, brushing her breasts against his chest, sucking in her breath with each new sensation.
The pressure was mounting inside him, and he desperately wanted to speed up his movements, but Gemma shook her head, a slow, seductive smile appearing on her lips. She grasped his head and kissed him deeply, all while lifting herself and slowly coming back down, squeezing him tightly each time. He wanted to growl from the almost unbearable need for release, but even more so from the knowledge that she was making it impossible for him to ever consider having anyone but her in his bed.
"Woman, you are pure torment." He managed a grin as he said the words, but he needn't have bothered, for she merely nodded her head, and then began to speed up her movements. She gave a little cry and locked her gaze with his. Her lips tilted up in a very satisfied smile, inviting Miles to make her satisfaction a reality. She had no idea how it made him want to do that every day, and every night, ensuring he was the only one who could satisfy this desperate need of hers.
Miles pulled her head down to his, his kiss an open-mouthed one that meant to steal her breath for an eternity, anything to ensure she knew how much he wanted her. She began to moan, and then to clench around him. In the next moment, they both came apart at the same time, sending them spiraling into a heaven of their own making.
***
Gemma traced a lazy circle over Miles's chest, which was still heaving as he recovered. He deserved a chance to regain his breath, after spending the entire afternoon ensuring she was completely sated—though it had quickly dawned on them they would never reach a state of complete satiation. They were so perfectly suited, in bed and out, that it seemed almost as though she were dreaming this entire encounter.
"Your aunt will be completely horrified at my failure to find you a suitable candidate for marriage."
Miles groaned as he threw an arm over his eyes. "And I am completely horrified that you have mentioned her while we are abed." He lifted his arm to give her a mock glare. "You had only to ask if you required a respite from my attentions."
She giggled and wrapped her body around his, relishing how his arm pulled her closer. His smile nearly stole her breath. Surely she was imagining the adoration in his expression. Yet even if it were true, she had promised to find him a suitable match.
In her heart, she knew she was that woman. If only the Dowager would agree.
"I shall make it up to you," she promised. His eyes threw off an appreciative gleam, but before she could be tempted by it, she added, "If we are to continue our liaison, we shall have to convince her that you are setting your sights on one of the misses she assembled just for that purpose."
He groaned again. "Surely there is some other way?"
She shook her head slowly. "I cannot think of any."
"So you will parade these hopeful young debutantes before me, all the while pretending you are not thinking of me here, in your bed."
<
br /> "Yes," she managed, though her voice cracked.
It made him bolder. He raised up on one elbow, tracing his finger over her lips and down her chin before replacing it with his mouth. The kiss was a soft one, almost tender, yet designed to seduce her. It proved most effective, although in truth, everything about Miles seduced her: his humor, his compassion, his heroic assistance no matter what scrape she found herself in.
She was not sure how he might rescue her from this one, however. At the moment, she did not care. Her only concern was enjoying the pleasure his kiss promised.
His arms slowly drew her into his body, cradling her as though she were the most precious item he had ever held. He continued kissing her slowly, thoroughly, letting her know there was nothing more important to him than this.
Was it any wonder she was losing her heart to him? But how could she let that happen when there was little chance of a future together?
It was a long while before she could attempt to answer those questions. Miles had other ways to distract her, and he employed every single one of them. Afterwards, when all she wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms, she was forced to send him on his way, so they could both dress for dinner.
He was reluctant to leave. He stood by the door and bestowed several lingering kisses on her very willing mouth. "I shall tell my aunt about us," he declared.
"You cannot. She will banish you."
"I do not care about that." He twined his arms about her waist. "She has threatened dire consequences all my life, and yet I am still here."
"Your expedition—"
"It will be delayed, until I can find other investors. Or I could sell the bowl from my last trip. It is quite valuable."
"No, you cannot do that. I know how important it is to you." Gemma leaned back so she could see into his eyes. "Besides, even if you do so, I will be banished, and sent back to London as a failure. A penniless one."
"I could intervene on your behalf."
She rewarded his chivalry with a kiss. "Without the stipend, I am dependent on my father, and he is remarkably old-fashioned where I am concerned. Which is why I planned to inform him of my travel plans once I was well on my way."
"Probably a wise choice." He brushed a series of kisses over her shoulder. "Your husband left you without an income?"
"He worked for my father, an arrangement that suited them, and one that was meant to provide for both of us for many years. Unfortunately..."
"I am determined to find a solution to this dilemma," he said.
"We would have better luck finding you a match."
"You have already." Miles kissed the shell of her ear, causing a riot of shivers. "Quite successfully."
"No, I have not. This is a liaison."
"One which I wish to continue. I believe you do as well."
Of course she did. There was no need to utter a denial, for her body gave him ample evidence of her willingness to continue their affair—even though it would ruin both their hopes for the future.
Surely there was some way to have everything they wanted. However, Miles was making it impossible to determine what that was, since his kisses and caresses were clouding her mind.
She finally wriggled out of his arms, and stepped back a couple of paces. "We need a plan that will suit both our purposes."
He raised his eyebrows and began a slow stride towards her. She backed away, laughing, her hands outstretched to hold him at bay.
"What would this plan entail?" he asked.
Miles continued moving forward, and she continued retreating, until she felt the bed against her legs. He was right with her, embracing her.
"I am not yet certain. Perhaps if we put our heads together, we can devise something clever."
"That should work admirably." His grin was a wicked one as he toppled them both atop the bed. "Let us commence this planning. I am convinced it shall prove immensely entertaining."
He was utterly correct.
Chapter 7
Miles took a breath and then began chattering once more. The debutante he had commenced a conversation with a quarter hour ago had begun to squirm, clearly deciding it had been a mistake to seek out his attentions, for he was a prosy windbag who would not let her get in a word.
"I hope you will excuse me," the young miss began.
"Oh, but I have not yet told you the most intriguing portion of my last excursion. Which occurred on the last day, and I cannot skip forward to that episode. You must have the context of the previous fortnight's adventures. It will make little sense to you otherwise."
The poor creature bit back a sigh, glancing about as if she could find a savior. Miles held in his laughter, and then recalled every boring conversationalist who had ever caught him in their snare, and did his best to mimic them.
"Now where was I? Had we finished with day one of the excursion yet? Perhaps we should start again at the beginning. Just to be certain I have not omitted anything important."
Another quarter hour later and the debutante appeared as if she might faint. He felt sorry for her unwitting role in his ruse. Once he and Gemma were allowed to court each other properly, he would apologize heartily to Miss Finch, as well as all of the other young women giving him a wide berth after his performance this evening.
He opened his mouth once more, and then felt a sharp rap on his shoulder. He turned, his mouth agape, and saw his aunt standing there. When he rose, Miss Finch saw her moment to escape and took it, racing into the crowd of people before he could call her back.
"Miles, what are you doing?"
"I am simply regaling Miss Finch with the lively tales of my excursion to Egypt. She was quite agog."
"She was nearly comatose!"
Miles drew back as if shocked. "Are you certain? I thought perhaps I might have found my match, thanks to you."
The Dowager snorted, and rapped his shoulder with her fan once more. He was tempted to rub the spot to ease the ache. What was the blasted thing made of anyway? He would not be surprised to learn it was lined with a heavy material specifically for this purpose.
Gemma chose that particular moment to appear, much to his relief.
"Gemma, Miles is insufferable this evening. He is driving the young misses away in droves, thanks to his incessant chattering about topics only he finds amusing. If I did not know better—"
She narrowed her eyes, and Miles did everything possible to appear innocent of the scheme of which he was quite guilty.
Gemma sneezed, or appeared to, drawing the Dowager's attention away from him. When his aunt turned to gaze at Gemma with genuine concern, Miles tossed a wink at her. Hopefully it would not take long before he had made himself impossibly unappealing to all of the young women in attendance.
"Are you quite all right, my dear?" his aunt inquired.
"Of course." She rubbed delicately at her nose, wrinkling it in an adorable fashion. "A little dust, that is all."
"Good. You have your work cut out for you, since this scoundrel seems to have lost his ability to converse in a way that appeals to young women." She harrumphed. "I suppose that is what comes of spending all his time in a foreign land, digging about for things best left forgotten."
"Perhaps he just needs a little practice," Gemma said, her eyes twinkling. "Everything becomes more enjoyable with repetition."
Miles coughed. At the Dowager's glare, he waved his hand. "The dust." He cleared his throat in an effort to convince her.
His aunt turned away. "Gemma, I must insist you spare the other women from his conversation the rest of this evening. I detest having to burden you with such an onerous task..."
Gemma's face filled with concern. "It is why I am here. I will do my best to instruct him on what is required to make his way successfully in current society."
"I knew I could count on you. You are such a treasure." She bestowed an air kiss on Gemma's cheek, and sent a disappointed shake of her head in Miles's direction, before hieing off to bedevil someone else, hopefully his cousins.<
br />
Miles lifted Gemma's gloved hand to his lips. "Mrs. Seton, you are quite brilliant."
"You are as well, Mr. Colborne. I believe you have felled at least half the eligible women just this evening. I had been prepared to keep our scheme going for several days, but now—"
"The sooner I have made myself unacceptable, the sooner we can be done with this ruse."
"Indeed." Her eyes began to sparkle with mischief again. "Now let us sit and converse. If you are unable to glean anything from my teachings, we may have to continue this well into the evening, in a more private spot, of course."
Miles led Gemma to a nearby sofa, his heart thudding with excitement. "I am quite certain private tutelage will be required. This is too important of a task."
Gemma beamed, and then began chatting quietly, her lowered voice innocently seductive, her eyes promising a most exciting evening to come.
***
"Should I use the story about the camels spitting?" Miles asked. "Or perhaps the time when I was forced to seek cover inside the carcass of—"
Gemma giggled, and then nestled her bare bottom against him. "You should save those tales for more desperate times. At present, I am the only one who wishes to be in proximity with you."
His arms tightened about her. "I am quite grateful for that."
"I am as well."
She turned until she was facing him, her fingers tracing his lips, her expression one of complete awe. He knew the feeling. He experienced it every single moment with Gemma. His heart was so full. What was stopping him from declaring himself? He wished to tell her how he was completely enchanted with her, and could not bear to imagine the time when she was no longer a part of his daily life.
Her hand halted over his mouth, almost as if she sensed what he wished to divulge. Had he misjudged her feelings? Perhaps he had. She had given him no indication there was more to this affair than the time they had together now. It filled him with sadness, for he was sure he had found the woman he had been seeking all his life, even when he had not realized what he wanted.
Where Have All the Scoundrels Gone? Page 6