Sinfully Delectable (Regency Four Book 2)

by Virginia Taylor

  Della frowned. Yes, she knew Eden needed a steadying influence. He was always rushing off after one thing or another. Hebe wasn’t right for him because she was the same, always hither and thither, always finding a new project, or another person to help. Although Della was like her father in temperament, she shared her mother’s self-sufficiency. “If I should jilt him, I’ll be able to sit in the music room and compose music,” she said obstinately.

  “I suspect you would be allowed to compose music if you were Eden’s wife, too. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a bit. He has a surfeit of females in his life who are perfectly capable of running his household. And besides that—Eden.”

  “What do you mean, Eden?”

  “I don’t know how you could possibly resist him.”

  Della stared in amazement. She could resist being tied to a man forever, but if her single state ever became irksome, she would certainly consider taking Eden, dear personable Eden, as her lover.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Silence reigned in Eden’s enormous house now that all his relatives had gone. The weather being fine and sunny, his sisters and mother had decided to take a walk to the local village where they regularly occupied the locals with gossip, or events meant to improve their daily lives. Without the company of anyone, Eden could entertain himself quite nicely, but he had decided that he would like to absorb himself in Della, instead.

  Consequently, he had a horse saddled and rode over to her house. If she married him, he would have four females in his life, instead of three. Three meant one always had to be in the middle, like his sister Lucy who hated being the middle of three children. He tried to make up for being older by telling her she was the oldest girl, but that had only worked when she was a small child. She was now a young lady, expecting to make her debut next season.

  Four was a better number. However, when his sisters eventually found husbands, the numbers would change, and change again when he married and his mother moved to the dower house. Thinking of marriage brought him back to Della, whom he hoped would get so used to his company that she would realize she would rather marry him than anyone else.

  His horse clipped into the Hayden’s stable yard and pulled up near the water trough. A groom knowing whom Eden meant to see, grinned and directed him to the orchard. He took the path through the trees, certain Della would be sitting on her favorite branch, the meeting of two, which formed a comfortable seat for someone whose seat was not overlarge. Della’s was as neat as her whole figure, and curvaceous like the rest of her. Her chin had a nice angle and her cheekbones followed the same line. When she laughed, the shape of her eyes and mouth matched.

  If he drew a series of curves and angles, he could follow the perfect design of Della. He could also do the same with his gestures, although he was thinking more about the perfect globes of her breasts and the delightful handfuls of her rump, which he had barely gathered in his palms before she had reproved him during the last time they had been in the orchard together.

  The flash of blue showed his destination was correct, but not her position. She lay on the grassy path between the rows of trees, staring up at the sky. “Good morning,” he called, because he wouldn’t want to sneak up on her unaware. She could accidentally punch him somewhere painful.

  “Oh, you have time for me now, do you?” she answered, her voice cool, glancing at him and then back at the rustling leaves overhead.

  He stood over her, removing his hat. “A few minutes.”

  “If you don’t move out of the way, I’ll push you because you’re shading me, and I’m trying to relax in the sunshine.”

  “Right. I’ll sit in the sunshine with you.” His breath shortened. If he sat on the grass beside her, perhaps he could take her into his arms. She hadn’t objected any other time and had instead appeared to be rather keen to be held. Whether she would like to be held by him in a compromising position, he would soon find out.

  He stripped off his gloves and tossed them with his hat to the base of the nearest tree, bent his legs, and squashed the tiny chamomile daisies as he sat beside Della. She stared across at him with the expression of a mule asked to carry an extra load. “Are you in love with Hebe?” she said, her eyes a slit against the sunlight wavering through the leaves.

  “No.” His voice took on an amount of hurt innocence, mainly unfeigned. “Is that the sort of question a betrothed asks her betrothed?” Leaning forward, he rested his arms across his lifted knees, and glanced back at her.

  “I have no idea. This is the first time I have been betrothed. Are you in love with your mistress?”

  Since he would dismiss his mistress as soon as Rumbold worked out her settlement, he could afford to look offended. “Men don’t love their mistresses. It’s not done.”

  “So, you’re not in love with anyone?”

  He shrugged. “The one doesn’t necessarily follow the other.”

  “Unless you can say positively, yes or no, you shouldn’t have any objection to kissing me.”

  “Mentally, no. Morally, I’m not so sure.”

  “Do you have to break down everything logically? Or can you have a moment of madness?”

  “And you’re asking this because ... ?”

  “Sometimes an insecure woman needs to be kissed.”

  “I can’t fault that. I don’t really mind kissing you, Della, but have you noticed that you are lying down.”

  “You’ll have to lie down beside me then, won’t you?”

  “Do you remember what happened to me the last time I held you?”

  “I remember what happened to me. You decided not to kiss me. If you weren’t so utterly beautiful, I’m sure you wouldn’t get away with half the things you do.”

  “You can’t call me beautiful, Della. I’m too manly.”

  She laughed. Her face turned into curves and sparkles.

  His chest ached. He needed her, he wanted her, and he was almost sure he could have her. She certainly showed an interest in the physical pleasures, but that didn’t mean that she would necessarily marry him. By ignoring her for a few weeks, he had managed to keep her attention at least, but a man could only ignore Della for so long.

  “Why do men have mistresses?”

  “Because they can, I suppose.”

  “The correct answer is that they have mistresses for making love. Why don’t men make love to their wives instead?”

  “I can’t answer that from personal experience but—”

  “It was not a question but an annoyed comment.”

  He scratched his chin. “I would make love to my wife if I had one. I’ll be perfectly happy to make love to you when we’re married.”

  “I’m not talking about after marriage. I’m talking about now. You show a sign of being interested in me and then you back off. If you want to marry me, you need to prove yourself.”

  “Prove myself in what way?” He lay beside her, rolled over, and lifted onto one elbow, staring cautiously down at her lovely face. Although he wasn’t certain he could be smart for one person, he now had to be smart for two. “Prove that I want to kiss you?”

  “At least that. I think married people do quite a bit of kissing, among other things.”

  He was more concerned about the other things. If he kissed her again, he might be tempted to do so much more. Fortunately, he had never once seen anyone other than Della in the orchard. Therefore, this was the best place to be alone with her, when he wanted to be alone with her, which was usually when he was with her and not alone with her. “Perhaps we could do more kissing.”

  She rolled to face him, offering him a ravishing smile. His heart almost stopped. He collected her into his arms and held her close. “You smell like apples,” he said in a voice that sounded somewhat husky.

  “You smell like hay and the fields, and sunshine. Those are all your colors.” Her eyelashes were thick and black and shaded her expression. She brushed back the annoying lock of his hair that always wanted to fall across his face.

 
The afternoon sun beamed down, warming his body. Small birds flittered among the trees, catching insects. At that moment, he couldn’t imagine anything better than holding the woman he loved in his arms and gazing at her relaxed face. “I think that may be the best compliment I have heard in my life, that I am the color of the things I most enjoy.” He didn’t add the last, which was having her lying beside him.

  “You’re lucky that you have something to enjoy.”

  “What do you enjoy?”

  She took her time thinking and then she said, “Moments like this are enjoyable but far too few. Most of the time I’m frustrated.”

  He thought she might be alluding to the fact that he didn’t plan to be her lover her unless he married her, but when he studied her expression she seemed to be concentrating. “What is frustrating you?”

  “My lack of talent. Winsome draws and paints, Rose sings like an angel, Hebe can do everything because she was trained to be the perfect wife from birth, and all I can do is pick out a few tunes on the piano. I want to write music, but everything I try is flat and dull. Even you noticed that I can’t write music without disrupting your idea of patterns—which I have to say is far better than mine.” She pushed out a sigh. “Although I love being in the country for summer, I’m bored without all the dinners, the routs, the supper dances, and the balls. And this is because I do absolutely nothing, like my mother.”

  Anything he said would sound placating. “You sell yourself short, Della. Your playing is magnificent. If my sisters could pick out a tune on the piano, Mother would be overjoyed. She would also be overjoyed if she thought they would be a great success on the marriage market, like you. Everyone wants to marry you. She can’t work out how I won you.” Fortunately, Della ignored everything but the most important part of his sentence, which was his sisters needing help.

  “Do Lucy and Mary want to play the piano?” She stared at him.

  “Mary does,” he said, sacrificing Mary who likely wouldn’t mind. She worshipped Della. Both his sisters did. “Lucy will be coming out next season and she would be overjoyed if she had someone who has recently experienced a great success in London to advise her about where to go, what to wear, who to meet, and so on.”

  Della’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “Perhaps I could pay a call on your mother this afternoon. The reason why I don’t is that almost no one can motivate my mother to move. It takes me days of coaxing to get her to call on anyone. If she were like Hebe’s mother, she would have had me running a household from the age of ten. She doesn’t even run the house herself. If she didn’t have servants to do everything for her, nothing would be done.”

  He breathed out. “I can see your problem. You need occupation. I can find plenty for a woman of your talents.”

  “Which talents? I only have one.”

  “You have many, but the main one is playing the piano. One of the most attractive traits in a woman is her having interests. When you’re in the city you’re a firefly. When you are in the country you’re a butterfly.”

  She snuggled her face into his jacket. “A butterfly.” A smile crossed her face. “You really are adorable. I always feel better when I’m with you.”

  He placed a soft kiss on her forehead, but she lifted her face, clearly expecting a proper kiss. Unable to resist her ripe berry lips, he lowered his mouth to hers, thinking that he shouldn’t hold her too close or the unmentionable that had happened last time would certainly happen again. She didn’t give him a chance to be careful. Somehow she shifted right into him. His craving, which had been lurking quietly, not annoying anyone, began to grow. If he kept kissing her, his problem would be greater.

  He kept kissing her. Naturally, she noticed the hardness pressing against her belly. She moved her hand to touch him. All the air left his chest as his kiss grew deeper and deeper. Her hand caressed him and he tried to concentrate anywhere but there. She moved her lips and re-kissed him, pushing him slightly. He didn’t quite know what she wanted, but apparently she wanted him on his back. He wanted her on her back, but he wouldn’t be so ungracious as to push her.

  In the end, it didn’t matter because she rolled on top of him, a poor idea, in his opinion, because he only grew harder. She sat over him, her face flushed and her eyes narrowed with desire as she rocked on him. Knowing she would quickly take him to the point of no return if he left her there, he lifted his left leg and rolled to the right, putting her back where she started. “You don’t need to do that, Delly. If you need relief, let me help.”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide. “Relief?” she queried, after pushing out a breath.

  He answered her by lifting up her skirts. She watched him as his petticoat-covered hand found the naked flesh where her stocking garters were tied. Her hand stopped his. “What are you going to do?” She sounded panicked.

  “Will you let me show you?”

  Her eyes met his and she seemed to believe that he wouldn’t hurt her. She placed her hands on her opposite shoulder tips as if entombed.

  He grinned ruefully. “You were simulating your desire on my body. I can do the same with my hand, but better. Perhaps you sometimes do it to yourself?”

  She shook her head, her eyes wide.

  “Lift your right knee and turn toward me.”

  She did. He lifted her leg over him and he slid his fingers to her parting. As yet, she was unprepared, so he slid his fingers in her moisture, finding her pleasure spot, which hardened. “Do you like that?” he asked as he gently used his finger, circling around and around.

  “Almost,” she whispered. “Oh, Lord yes.” She bent her knee up higher, giving him unfettered access and placed her hand on his upper arm. Her mouth found his again, and she kissed him so longingly that he took his time arousing her. She hadn’t reached her peak before she stopped him. “I’m wearing out. It’s wonderful but I can’t do it any longer because I want you inside me.”

  She was so wet he could have slid in, and he wanted to. Lord, how he wanted to. His breeches could barely contain him, but since it would clearly be her first time, he wanted her to have a chance to work up to the moment rather than be drawn in by a furtive coupling. “Not today.”

  “When?”

  He put his hand over his cock and squeezed, trying to concentrate on shrinking. “I’m not so easily had. You’ll need to court me, first.”

  She snuggled her face into his sleeve and made a sound like a giggle. “You do these sinful things to me, and I’m shameless. Yet, you’re so demure no one would believe it of you.”

  “Let’s hope you don’t tell anyone. You would ruin me.” He sat up, staring at the grass in front of him.

  “You know very well that it would only add to your reputation as a madman.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have any reputation.” He lifted his fist to his shoulder tip and flexed a muscle in his arm. “This is what keeps people from discussing me. It will also be what keeps people from discussing you. Now, am I expecting you to pay a visit to my mother this afternoon?”

  “Stay and talk to mama for a while, and I can go back with you.” She sat up and patted her hair.

  “I rode over.”

  “And I shall ride back with you. That way, I won’t need a chaperone to come with me.”

  Since he hadn’t officially been admitted to her house, he grabbed up his hat and gloves, and marched around to the front to knock on the door, while she entered from the library door on the side. The butler had him wait while he found Della in the library. She then told her mother she was riding out with him, and all was right with the world.

  * * * *

  Della tried to appear cool as she followed Eden into his house, but he had heated her to melting point. She had no idea he was so experienced. What he had done to her still made her heart thump. And he’d been so natural about pleasuring her. He was always natural about what she considered to be wicked, for example, her first order to kiss him. He accepted that not everyone was as perfect as he. In fact, he had
no idea how perfect he was, and she had decided while he was making her insides scream for joy, that she wouldn’t find a wife for him until she had experienced enough to keep her happy for the rest of her life, without having to marry anyone.

  She sat in the morning parlor with his mother until his sisters arrived. “I believe you are learning to play the piano,” she said to Mary, a sixteen year-old who did not share her brother’s blonde good looks. She had rather dull colored hair, worn in a plain knot.

  Mary had a smile as wide as Eden’s when he was being deliberately ingenuous. “Yes. I’ve had a few lessons but I’m really not very good. Sometimes, when the rector is teaching the village children their hymns, I go to the church hall and play a few tunes for him, just the simple ones. The children love to sing.”

  “You play the church organ?”

  “No. The piano in the hall, not the church. The piano isn’t as good as ours but it plays in tune, usually.”

  Della had visited the local school, but only on special occasions, like St. George’s day when the children were allowed to celebrate. Her mother would have cook prepare pastries, which Della distributed with her. Clearly, Eden’s young sister had more idea of the local happenings than she, who had been born here. A cloud of guilt hovered around her head. She knew that she, as well as Eden’s sister, should be helping the village children. “It doesn’t sound as though you need me at all.”

  “Need isn’t the same as want, Della,” Eden said, crossing his arms over his manly chest. She loved when he did that. He looked so staunch, so reliable.

  “What could I possibly do that Mary doesn’t?”

  Mary shot a quick glance at Eden before answering Della. “I would love you to come with me and help. When I’m playing, I can’t hear the singing, and I’m honestly not very good at reading music.”