The sound of a cheering, whistling crowd broke through her reverie like a bucket of cold water. A stark reminder that this was just pretend. It didn’t mean anything; naturally a renowned rake knew how to make a public declaration and kiss like a dream.
Yet after that, how would things ever be the same between them again?
Chapter 6
He’d made an enemy of Lady Kingsford and the Duke of Devonshire. His father was furious at the spectacle of a public embrace. And yet, on the other side of the ledger, he now knew what it felt like to kiss Pippa the way he’d dreamed of doing for years. Far more importantly…she had kissed him back.
Finn shook the hand of yet another guest, but all he could think about was the priceless moment when Pippa’s surprise had turned into something quite different. When those velvety lips parted, her breathing hitched, and her fingers curled around his arm as she moved half a step closer. Pippa had tasted sweeter than the best caramels or brown bread ice the world could offer. Only the fact they’d been swarmed by the drawing room crush had prevented him kissing Pippa until their lips detached.
“Lord Knighton!” crowed two familiar warm voices, and he smiled as Lady Navemby and Lady Campbell each went up on their tiptoes to peck his cheek.
“I am so proud of you,” said Lady Navemby. “Well done.”
“Only following orders,” he replied with a wink. “Don’t think I’m unaware who began the kiss her chant.”
The countess blushed. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. By the by, where is your delightful lady? I should like to congratulate her as well.”
Finn pointed to a group about ten feet away. “Trapped in there, I believe. I just hope the dowager doesn’t have a pistol tucked in her stays.”
“Would I be correct in assuming,” said Lady Campbell mischievously, “that you quite spoiled Lady Kingsford’s plans for her granddaughter and a certain eligible duke?”
“I couldn’t possibly comment, madam. Except to say you’ve always had a fine mind and sharp wit.”
The baroness giggled. “Oh, my dear, you have unleashed merry hell tonight and I don’t envy you the next battle. But I shall cheer for you and your betrothed every step of the way; that kiss was quite something and it wasn’t one-sided. Reminded me of a comte and a princess in a certain book.”
Smiling inwardly at the comparison, Finn bowed. “That sounds like a compliment so I shall accept it as such. And then regretfully leave you, for I think my betrothed needs to be rescued from the circle of doom.”
After the ladies curtsied and moved away to the supper table, Finn inched closer to the group holding Pippa hostage; the dowager, two Almack’s patronesses, three political wives, an ambassador’s sister, and a Prussian duchess.
“Knighton,” said Northam, suddenly appearing in front of him like a solid yet colorful brick wall. “Not sure I’ve ever witnessed such courage. Or foolishness.”
“That is one of the cornerstones of love, is it not? Foolish courage?”
“Perhaps. I wouldn’t know, never having been in love.”
“Are you trying to warn me off?” asked Finn evenly, more than ready to fight.
The younger viscount shrugged. “Me? No. Except if you hurt Pip. Then it is another game entirely. Twin bond and all that.”
“Sixteen years of close friendship isn’t sufficient evidence that I hold Pippa’s happiness above all else?”
“Hmmm. I take it back. Your heart may well be the one at greatest risk. Have a care, Knighton; in my experience even seemingly good women can be treacherous.”
Shocked at the glimpse of darkness, Finn opened his mouth to respond, but Northam had already carried on to charm a group of young ladies who were fanning themselves frantically at the evening’s events. Ugh. Forget making the announcement early for his father’s sake; it was him who needed fresh air.
But he had to get Pippa first.
Lightly touching her shoulder was the only way to get her attention in the din, yet she still jerked and turned with pink cheeks. “Finn. There you are.”
“Shall we dance?”
Pippa immediately stepped back from the group. “Excuse me, my new betrothed requires my company for a waltz. Thank you.”
Then she curled her arm under his and near-dragged him away to the dancing space in front of the string quartet.
“All a bit much?” he asked sympathetically as the opening bars of a waltz sounded and they began to twirl around the floor.
“I was getting interrogated.”
“Your brother just waylaid me for an interesting conversation. And by interesting, I mean extremely alarming. He’s not an assassin or spy or something, is he?”
Pippa bit her lip. “Before today, I would have laughed myself into a catatonic state at even the suggestion. But he made some comments earlier that make me wonder where he goes most days.”
“Well, he just told me to beware of treacherous women. So…”
“Good lord,” she replied, her laugh edged with hysteria. “I need some air. I don’t suppose you could waltz me over to the balcony?”
“I can waltz you anywhere you like, Pippet.”
When they made it to the double doors that opened out onto the narrow stone balcony, both inhaled deeply of the frigid but blessedly fresh air.
“That kiss,” she said abruptly.
Finn hesitated. “Yes?”
“No one has ever kissed me like that before.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?” he replied, striving for a lighthearted tone when the answer to the question might just determine his future happiness.
Pippa adjusted her spectacles and gazed at him; her expression more serious than he’d ever seen it. “Without a crowd or chant, would you have done the same?”
“Yes. And then some.”
The blunt words dropped like boulders into a puddle, but he couldn’t lie or dissemble. Not when he’d yearned to kiss Pippa since he’d first woken from one of those sweaty, sticky dreams as a lad.
“And then some?” she asked, so softly he could scarcely hear her. “You mean you would like to do more than kissing? You would like to pleasure me the way they do in our romance novels? Make me come?”
Finn’s cock jerked, and he gripped the stone railing in an attempt to cool his lust. On about a million occasions he had thought of making Pippa come; of sliding two fingers into her hot, tight pussy while his thumb rubbed her clitoris, or perhaps burying his face between her legs and licking up every drop of sweet musky honey. Other times his fantasy had been sucking her swollen nipples while he filled her slowly, so slowly with his aching virgin cock. Then he’d introduced her to the heady world of pleasure toys like the laird did in The Highland Marauder, even bent her over a desk and fucked her from behind with all the tender ruthlessness of A Wicked Comte.
“Yes,” he rasped. “If that was what you wanted, I would make you come. Over and over.”
Pippa made a shuddering, needy sound. Then she tugged on his jacket so he leaned down and she could speak directly into his ear. “Finn, I know it is complicated because we are friends…but I think…that is…now we are publicly betrothed I should like to try some things. Not bedding. But you know…other things. With hands and mouth. You would be doing me another great favor. Pleasure lessons in preparation for the marriage bed!”
Christ.
If that wasn’t a rose with poisoned thorns, what was? The thought of her in another man’s bed was unbearable. Yet the chance to pleasure the woman he loved…
“Pippet—”
“Knighton.”
Shit. SHIT.
Naturally his father would ruin a conversation of the utmost importance.
Finn straightened and turned to where Pinehurst stood in the doorway, looking more dead than alive. “Father?”
The marquess sniffed in Pippa’s direction. “I suppose I must offer my felicitations even after that vulgar display. That I had to find out alongside everyone else here is unacceptable, however I unde
rstand members of the Nash family were equally…surprised.”
Pippa rested her cheek on Finn’s arm. “They were. Wasn’t it marvelously romantic, my lord, two people deciding they could not be parted by another and making a public declaration?”
“Lady Pinehurst thought so, but she has always been foolish. One presumes you’ll be able to do your duty and secure the line without fuss, gel? Menses regular?”
Finn bit back several expletives. He could practically feel Pippa’s indignant mortification at the question while they stood on a damned balcony and a packed soiree continued behind them. Why did his sire have to be such a pig? Could they not have one night about joy rather than fucking duty? “You’re looking pale, Father. Perhaps you should go home.”
“I’ll take to my bed when I’m good and ready,” Pinehurst snapped, holding onto the doorframe as he began coughing. Then he returned to the soiree without so much as a gesture of farewell.
“Your father and my grandmother might be quite different in age, but they have a lot in common,” said Pippa archly. “She thinks of me as a walking, talking womb as well.”
“I can only apologize. It’s the same line of the play Mother gets attacked with.”
“Poor woman…brrrr it’s freezing out here. This scarlet gown might look like purgatory perfection, but it really isn’t that warm.”
Finn laughed and tugged her back into the drawing room. “You look deliciously devilish.”
Pippa halted and looked up at him. “I meant what I said. About trying some things.”
“Then let us try them together,” he replied, the words escaping before he could haul them back.
“I think you should take me out for a jaunt in the curricle tomorrow. Bring a heavy blanket for our laps.”
He almost moaned. “As you wish.”
The weather might be bleak and cold, but alone in her chamber, Pippa burned.
Once again, it was all Finn’s fault.
That kiss.
Everything about the previous evening had been entirely too theatrical; from the race to announce to the villainous Lord Pinehurst asking about her menses. But while her mind was mud, her body knew with perfect clarity that it wanted more kisses. And not just that…orgasms.
It probably didn’t help that she’d also read several more chapters of A Wicked Comte. Good lord. In one scene, he’d stormed the solar and backed the princess against a wall before lifting her gown and rubbing her clitoris until she came. On another occasion when the princess defied him, the comte had spanked her bottom then ordered her to suck his cock. While he had spilled his seed on her breasts and massaged it onto her taut nipples, she had been denied release and left quivering with feverish need.
When Pippa eventually fell asleep, her dreams had swirled up with scenes from the book, she as the princess and Finn the comte. Rather than two characters indulging in lusty play, it was Finn stroking between her legs and making her come. Finn ordering her to suck his cock. And she’d loved it.
But today she was going to experience what an orgasm provided by another person felt like in reality, and who better to do that than her discreet, good-hearted, experienced friend? Best of all, it wouldn’t change anything between them. Finn would just continue his rakish ways, she would return to her books, and the world would be happy.
The hours until their arranged curricle ride seemed to take years, but once she was dressed in her favorite cerulean blue gown, heavy wool pelisse, stockings and kidskin half-boots, and carried a wide-brimmed bonnet, reticule, and leather gloves under her arm, Pippa went downstairs for breakfast. The dining room was blessedly quiet and empty; Grandmother preferred to take her tea and toast in her chamber, while it was a trifle early for Father, Xavier, or Georgiana.
Excellent. She had no desire whatsoever to endure a reckoning right now. That could at least wait until the afternoon.
After perusing the sideboard stacked with warming dishes, Pippa helped herself to a hearty breakfast of coddled eggs, two thin slices of ham, buttered toast, and a cup of chocolate. Certainly no baby birds this morning. Then she sauntered to the entrance hall, flicked through the mail tray, and waited by the front door for Finn.
“Good morning, Pippa. Off for a jaunt, are we?”
Somehow, she suppressed a shriek at her father’s words. What on earth was he doing up and about? He usually slept until at least ten o’clock. “Good morning. You’re up early.”
Lord Kingsford shrugged. “Fair bit to accomplish today. You might not have heard, but my second daughter announced her engagement at her grandmother’s soiree and caused quite a stir. I’m expecting a lot of correspondence, not least of which may be a curt note from the Duke of Devonshire.”
“The duke can be as curt as he likes,” Pippa retorted. “That plot was entirely between him and Grandmother, not something I desired. I am betrothed to Lord Knighton and that is that.”
Her father smiled faintly. “Well, yes, but as the dusty law tomes say, until you reach your majority, you do require my permission to marry.”
She flushed. Only a fool tweaked the nose of a potential ally. He might be as steadfast and decisive as a newborn kitten, but no one else had the power to sign legal documents. “Forgive me. I am just…very excited.”
“I know. Thought Knighton was never going to come up to scratch. But he did at last, good lad. Apart from Mother and Devonshire being annoyed, the only other problem is what Gigi will do next.”
Pippa folded her arms. “Just say no. You know who the gentleman is.”
“Except I don’t. Not really. Only heard a few vague rumors of who Gigi has been talking to at parties. But they aren’t pleasant rumors. I just hope they don’t reach Mother, for she certainly won’t approve.”
“I agree.”
“So you’ll inform Gigi there is no chance of her wedding that cad?” said her father, brightening. “Wonderful. Much obliged, Pippa. Now I can breakfast with a lighter heart. Enjoy your outing.”
As he wandered off toward the dining room, she swallowed a bloodcurdling scream. That would only bring more relatives downstairs and one was quite enough.
The sound of horse hooves outside was a welcome distraction, and not even waiting for the butler, she threw open the door and bounded down the steps to Finn’s elegant dark blue curricle. The fawn leather seats looked wonderfully comfortable; she approved of the practical dark leather cover that could be folded down or pulled up depending on the weather, and the matched pair of grays were clearly eager to be on their way as they stomped their feet and tossed their heads.
With one hand holding the reins, Finn leaned down with his free hand to help her up onto her seat then cover her with a thick traveling blanket.
“Good morning, my beautiful betrothed,” he said with a grin, albeit a slightly hesitant one, as he clicked the reins to move away from Hanover Square. “Did you sleep well?”
A blush heated her cheeks. “Not overly. I ended up reading a few more chapters of A Wicked Comte.”
“Ah. Which part are you up to?”
“The princess is giving herself a sponge bath after being…anointed.”
Finn burst out laughing as he skillfully navigated the curricle around a cart loaded with fruits and vegetables. “A delicate turn of phrase for such a bawdy event.”
“Speaking of bawdy events…where are we going?”
“I do have somewhere in mind, but I wanted to make sure you still wish to try things. Last night was rather a lot, and I certainly wouldn’t hold you to a promise made on a freezing balcony late at night.”
“Oh, I definitely want to try things,” said Pippa, deliberately covering his hand with hers. “Under this delightfully thick blanket.”
He sucked in a breath. “We’ll go to Hyde Park, then. Not many people at this hour, and plenty of secluded spots under the trees. I can put up the cover as well.”
It wasn’t far to Hyde Park, but it seemed like everyone in London had decided to travel.
Pippa squirm
ed on the seat. “How much further?”
“Not long. I’ll find somewhere private where we can see others approaching.”
Soon they had the perfect place. Finn jumped down and hitched the horses to a tree branch, then gave them a scoop of oats each from a small wooden bucket. When he climbed back onto the curricle, he pulled the black leather cover up and secured it, creating a cozy half-cocoon.
Perfect for wicked deeds on a cold winter’s day.
“So,” said Pippa. “How and what? Because I must admit that although I greatly enjoyed the kissing last night, I would really, really like an orgasm.”
Finn quirked an eyebrow. “Only if you ask nicely.”
Oh.
Pure excitement fizzed in her blood. “Pretty please may I have an orgasm, Lord Knighton? My very own betrothed?”
“Take your bonnet off and sit on my lap, Pippet,” he said gruffly. “One leg either side.”
Soon she sat balanced on his hard thighs, her back against his chest and his arms around her, with the blanket covering them both. How odd that in this position, in a curricle seat high up off the ground, she felt completely safe. “Now what?”
“I’m going to lift up your gown and touch you. But you must say if you don’t like it or want to stop.”
“I will,” she replied firmly. “Now do attend to my clitoris. It is feeling sad and lonely and underappreciated.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest. “Can’t have that.”
In no time at all, Finn’s nimble fingers rucked up her gown and began drawing circles on the silken skin of her inner thigh.
Pippa whimpered as the circle leisurely—far, far too leisurely—approached her throbbing pussy. “Don’t tease.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
His fingertips continued to torment her, and she leaned back further, spread her thighs wider, so he might have easier access to her slick center. But Finn was in no hurry, the terrible man. No, he merely petted the crisp hair of her bush, then trailed up to stroke the skin just above her mound.
THE BEST MARQUESS: Wickedly Wed #2 Page 9