She looked across the dimly lit stairwell and waited, but he said nothing. A muscle ticked on the side of his jaw.
“On occasion he’s left me waiting and, worse still, wanting. He hasn’t always kept his word.” She watched him closely.
“The cad.” He seemed to reconcile his emotions, whatever they might have been. “A foolish fellow if ever I heard of one. I’m certain I could never recommend him to you and maintain a clear conscience.”
“I see.” Her fingers itched, caught in the silk of her wrapper. How she wished she could reach out and smooth her touch across his cheek. “And yet he causes my heart to beat so fast, I fear no one else will ever affect me in the same manner.”
“Is that so?” His voice was no more than a murmur, his expression too complex to decipher. Time stretched with inconceivable impatience, until at last he finished what he meant to say. “Be assured the gentleman wants only what’s best for you, Caroline.”
Chapter Sixteen
Would his night be composed of nothing but unexpected surprises? Albeit discovering Caroline sneaking down the backstairs in her night clothes was a revelation more than an imposition.
At first glance he’d assumed an overindulgence in brandy had taken hold of his brain. But no, she appeared before him like the best part of a dream, the part when one wishes never to wake.
Hadn’t he avowed earlier to find a willing female and lose himself in meaningless release to escape his desire for the lady? His mind struggled for clarity. He couldn’t very well run toward the same woman he wished to escape. One didn’t slack untamed longing for a forbidden debutante with another taste of her lips. Lust was a bloody inconvenience.
Still, he hadn’t planned to seek her out, but then there she was and suddenly everything became much more interesting. And why did he discourage the gentlemen she named when he had previously offered to assist her? He supposed, in some capacity, one could consider his opinion that same assistance. It certainly wasn’t jealousy or some other ridiculous emotion. He didn’t become jealous. One needed to take life seriously to experience the emotion. One needed to care.
He forced distance between them and leaned against the opposite wall. She’d looked startled when he first happened upon her, but now she appeared as lovely and intriguing as he always seemed to find her.
Something about Caroline soothed his restless soul, and for a jaded man such as he, a man with too many knots to untangle, she posed a danger indeed.
He intended to bid her goodnight and continue up the stairwell, but when he opened his mouth different words came out. “You bewitch me, Caroline.”
She didn’t reply, and in that silence, as the words hung in the air, he admired the glow of candlelight on her skin and the pearly sheen it lent to her pale silk wrapper. He noticed the way her hair spilled over her shoulders, down her back, and wondered what she wore to sleep. Something ethereal and lovely, no doubt. Arousal sharpened to painful need. His fingers itched to touch her and, agitated in their uselessness, he clenched his coat in frustration before folding it through the balustrade to free his hands.
“I should let you go,” she whispered in a confiding tone.
The words were easy to misinterpret if he allowed himself the foolishness of the task, but why search for meaning in what was likely a careless turn of phrase?
Besides, her expression betrayed her and lacked true conviction.
“And here I am already looking forward to seeing you again.” One side of his mouth curled upward. “Good night, Caroline. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
She bit her bottom lip before she replied, “Have you no other advice for me, Jonathan?”
It was her use of his name that gave him pause, regardless he’d already requested she use it. And too, the attention she brought to that lower lip, all plump temptation and deserving of another bite. His, alone.
He stopped one step below her, her mouth perfectly aligned with his. They stood that way quietly and he imagined it was so their hearts could synchronize their beat and their breathing could even before he gathered her into his arms.
He knew it was wrong.
She was a young idealistic debutante in want of a staid husband and secure future, and he had nothing to offer on either account.
But it was only a kiss.
One kiss in the dark.
One kiss.
Just one.
* * * *
Caroline went into his arms, her will no fortress against the delicious desire pulsing through her veins, strong and insistent she take haven in his strength, just as when he’d lived so vividly in her thoughts earlier this evening. She promised herself it would be but a minute’s respite. Only one minute. Nothing more.
But when he gathered her close in his embrace, his hands firm through the thin silk of her wrapper, the heated pressure enough to reach her skin through her night rail, she knew that promise was nothing more than foolish placation.
His lips crushed down on hers before she’d released her gasp, his hungry kiss met with equaled ambition. His mouth fit perfectly to hers, his beard like rough velvet against her cheek. Sensation wove a languid path through her, and she melted against him. He growled his pleasure, a rumble low in his throat that somehow rippled against her as much as him. And it was as though he lit a fuse to her fantasy, every secret desire and naughty dream come to life. She wanted to thread her fingers through the thick glossy waves of his hair, experience the heat of his broad chest pressed to her bare breasts, know the taste and feel of his muscular body.
He angled her head to deepen the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers and she opened to him, allowing him to taste and explore, to stroke deep. Her body tingled from the inside out, some unknown coil of intense awareness unfurling in her lower belly to create sensitivity everywhere he touched. The tips of her breasts ached as they rubbed against warm silk, and she restlessly clenched her thighs, shamelessly aware she grew damp. She inhaled again, wanting to know the scent of him better, aware all too soon she would need to break their kiss. Things couldn’t go further than they had already.
Perhaps he knew the same. In the next instant he pulled his mouth from hers, though he kept their faces aligned, his breathing as heavy as hers.
“What you do to me. What to do with you.”
His mouth was only a whisper away, his words indecently seductive, and she reveled in them. To know she affected him so made her heartbeat thunder in her chest.
She searched his face. His eyes flashed molten velvet, but he allowed no time for her to answer, or think, for that matter, before he captured her mouth again. This time his kiss wooed and tempted. Gone was the rash impatience of their first embrace, and instead, this kiss promised decadent pleasure and forbidden indulgence.
He tasted as he appeared. Powerful and virile, terribly handsome. Though she doubted any of her observations made sense. His fingers pressed through the flimsy silk of her wrapper, clasping her back with tight insistence, reminding she wore next to nothing. The hair on his forearm rubbed in sensual suggestion against her wrist as he released his hold to clasp her chin, tilt it slightly, and murmur his approval. Then he licked into her again, the heat of his tongue, stroke after stroke, coaxing her to join with him. The very idea sent another sharp pang of longing humming through her body.
It was wrong in so many ways to allow these liberties, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop him, the pleasure too new and intense. Her pulse skittered with an irregular beat and she clung to his upper arms, the flex of hard muscle beneath further tinder to her desire. She fell further from grace, lost to a kiss composed of contradiction, strong enough to make her weak, enveloped in warmth that caused her to shiver, an offer of safety which threatened illicit danger. Yet her stomach rioted, her emotions awhirl, as a tremor of decadent pleasure swept through her so acutely it left her powerless to object.
He
moved his hands to her waist, bracketed on either side as if to hold her firmly in place. Then he slid one palm over her ribcage, higher, until he skimmed over her breast, the few thin layers of silk no barrier to the heated strength of his touch.
“Caroline,” he murmured against her mouth, and deepened the kiss with matched sensual pressure as he cupped her breast. He held her that way, his palm against her heartbeat, and she trembled beneath his caress. “You’re so very precious.”
It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, but then she couldn’t think straight for the scandalous liberties she allowed him with her body. Still, she didn’t stop him.
He kissed his way across her cheek, near her ear, where his hot exhale tickled a riot of gooseflesh beneath her clothing. He continued his exploration and offered a teasing nip to her neck, an enticing lick to her clavicle.
His breath was hot against her skin, and she leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes closed tight as his mouth traveled lower, somehow finding skin where she’d believed her wrapper kept her covered. Temptation and desire tunneled through her, settling low in an unfamiliar ache. She had no idea what he planned. The exquisite manner of each touch assured it could be altogether wicked. But no, not here in a stairwell where they might be discovered. At least, that was the lie she accepted without question.
He took her breast into his mouth, silk and all, wet from the stroke of his tongue as he held the tip with his teeth and suckled. She trembled, the sensation too intense to bear. A whimper of consent and surrender escaped. A sound of encouragement, dare he stop when it felt so very good. She’d never experienced such powerful pleasure.
Was this how one fell in love? Was this turbulent rush of emotion what she yearned for all along? Or was she making a serious mistake, allowing what might be nothing more than a convenient indiscretion to a man as unscrupulous and jaded as the Earl of Lindsey was reputed to be?
She couldn’t say.
She hardly knew him.
And yet somehow, she did.
“Jonathan.” She drew a tight breath and he broke away, leaning in to do the same.
“Yes, Caroline?”
She’d heard her name voiced countless times, but for some unnamed reason when he said it, the word sounded special.
He traced a fingertip over the tip of her breast, sheathed in damp silk, and she shuddered, that same tight coil of longing an echo through her lower half.
“I shouldn’t be here with you.” Her hushed whisper was both admonishment and guilty pleasure, an excited revelation concealed as misdeed.
“But you are.” He answered as matter of fact. “It’s only a kiss.”
His words were the exact tonic needed, and she pulled from his embrace and backed to the wall. Pity he thought so little of it. Of her. “Yes. Only a kiss.”
Heat stole up her neck to her cheeks, and she was thankful the stairwell remained dark. She’d be every kind of fool to believe their embrace meant more to him than a casual dalliance. She couldn’t bring herself to continue their intimate interlude even though her body sang with the glory of his caresses. “Good night, my lord.”
“And you, Caroline.” He slipped past her shoulder and up the stairwell, the echo of his boots on the shallow treads in rhythm to her thundering heart.
* * * *
Dawn broke with unrelenting sunlight, brilliant and unapologetic as it streamed down from the heavens to dry the morning dew. It was the perfect day for a fox hunt, and the back lawns were crowded with riders and horses, grooms and servants, all in chaotic disorder as they arranged for the sport.
Lord Henley had cultivated an outstanding reputation for hosting the annual event and, as expected, no matter the change in date, every gentleman worth his snuff was out in his finest attire at the ready to prove his horsemanship and superior ability. The ladies were ornamentations. Little more than decorations, really. At least, that’s how Caroline viewed her attendance. Females weren’t allowed to ride or participate in any manner. Instead they were instructed to cheer, tie ribbons to the manes of their beau’s horse, or wait patiently for a group of riders to pass. At the day’s end, it was considered the highest honor to be presented with the foxtail, but Caroline wanted no part of the cruel ritual. The fox was obscenely outnumbered by the horsemen and overpowered by the hounds running it to ground. While she enjoyed the atmosphere and opportunity to mix with the ton’s most select members, she disliked how a striking animal would be harmed for the sake of masculine boasting privileges.
Oblivious to Caroline’s defense of the fox’s welfare, her mother stood beside her on the balcony completely enthralled in watch of the goings-on.
Beyond their position, a wrought iron fence edged a gravel path leading to the western field where the fox would be tracked and pursued. At the moment everyone waited, tension and anticipation thick in the air. Lord Henley hadn’t addressed the crowd to signal the start of the event, and in the surround Caroline heard chatter and laughter, savvy speculation, and pretentious braggadocio of every variety.
She had no trouble locating Lindsey and Mills in the fray, her eyes drawn to the earl as if he cast a spell of hypnotic power. As she expected, he looked masterful atop Infinity. Whatever one observed about the sleek Arabian horse could be echoed in the man who served as the animal’s master. Lindsey looked magnificent. Potent and virile. If all the men around him were hounds, Lindsey was the fox. A man who led with innate ease, while the others followed. He was clever, wily, and extraordinary in nature. She smiled, pleased with the image as she continued her perusal.
The earl wore snug buckskin trousers tucked into black top boots that caught the early light in their sheen. His perfectly tailored coat hugged his shoulders and tapered neatly to his trim waist. Last night’s interlude rushed back with startling clarity, her palm pressed against the wall of his chest, the determined thrum of his heartbeat. She shook her head. Still, he cut such a fine figure she found it hard to look away. Her mother noticed, unfortunately.
“Is that Lord Mills talking to the Earl of Lindsey, Caroline?” Her mother strained beyond the intrusive adornments of her velvet-lined bonnet in an effort to see through the crowd moving toward the far field. “I hope you’re encouraging his suit. He’s taken a special liking to you.”
“Do you think so?” Caroline skimmed her fingers across her left collarbone, the same place Lindsey had nipped through her wrapper the night before. Her skin still bore a reddened shadow from his teeth, the slightest rub of whisker burn alive beneath her skin. The secretive sensation fascinated her. It was scandalous and dangerous that she’d allowed him the intimacy, and yet her pulse skittered whenever she relived the moment, as if eagerly suggesting she let it happen again.
“You should pay Lord Mills special attention. My acquaintances suggest he intends to find a wife this season. If he’s in a hurry, he may not be as particular as other gentlemen.” Thankfully, her mother stopped short of expounding on the subject.
Happy for an excuse to stare at Lindsey again, she followed her mother’s line of sight and landed on the two gentlemen in the same spot. Mills had his back to her now, but Lindsey scanned the field until his eyes locked with hers in return. He touched the brim of his top hat and she stifled an immediate smile. Then she cast her gaze down to her gloves, happy she’d chosen the navy-blue riding habit and heeled black boots. When she raised her eyes, he was engaged in conversation with a cluster of young bucks who fawned over Infinity.
A short blast from a trumpet sounded and Lord Henley exited the house on the slates below the terrace where they stood. As host, he would ride out first. The master of foxhounds followed him to the blocks where Lord Henley mounted a dappled grey, its mane woven with bright ribbons.
Caroline and her mother moved to the edge of the balcony for a better view of the proceedings. Once the riders set off, they would join the promenade on the garden path and beyond to a clearin
g where the ladies gathered in wait.
“Lady Caroline.” Lady Henley waved up to them. “Do come down and join us. I’d like to continue our earlier conversation while we await the fanfare. After the men set out, we’ll have a good amount of time before the hunt is called at an end.”
* * * *
Lindsey aligned Infinity beside the other horses at the threshold to the forest near the west of the estate. If he continued through the wood and crossed the rolling hills there, he would reach his property border. Kingswood Manor was his favorite of all the Lindsey holdings, although a few manors and their acreage were tied up in litigious legalities until he produced a trio of paintings and a legitimate heir. His father had created a complicated tangle of demands for the inheritance. Worse yet, Lindsey suspected there were others who waited on his actions. All the while, time clipped past.
This fact needled him further. How dare his father threaten others’ happiness and future solvency by making Lindsey’s legacy so bloody complicated. Capitulation seemed inevitable.
And he now had a bastard brother to contend with. He hadn’t believed his opinion of his father could sink lower. But it had. What further complication would be laid in his path?
An endearing image of Caroline on the balcony chased away his annoyance. How had it come she held power over him? In all his personal relationships, he’d maintained control. He’d decided how far he would proceed with affection and attention. He’d made the unavoidable break when he’d tired of his mistress’ company.
But Caroline was an anomaly. Barely out for the season, young and idealistic, she intrigued him, invading his thoughts whenever he dared allow it.
How prim and proper she’d appeared on the balcony moments before, her navy-blue riding habit a complement to her creamy skin and lovely long hair. The fashionable ensemble hugged her bodice where a hint of frothy lace peeked out from the collar to remind of the unexpected intimacy they’d shared in the stairwell. How far would he have gone? That question remained unanswered.
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