Studying the dancers on
the floor, a strange sensation rippled against the
back of her neck. Her skin tingled as if a
feather were brushing across her skin. With a
quick jerk of her hand, she touched the back of her
neck.
Her fingers
found nothing unexpected. With a slight turn, she looked over her
shoulder and saw him. He was leaning against a white column, the sleek
line of his body enhanced by the black tails he wore. Every bit the
indolent rake, jade eyes sparkled with laughter as his gaze danced over
her. Startled, she stood mesmerized by the riveting look. The moment
he moved toward her, she panicked. Oh dear lord, the man is going to
speak to me in public. Ophelia reached behind her, her hand
searching for Patience’s arm, but found only warm air. Frantic, she
stood frozen, unable to flee. As she waited for him to stop in front of
her, astonishment whipped through her as he continued past her with a
slight nod of his head.
Gathering her
wits, she stared after him as he moved through the crowded room until he
disappeared from view. Flummoxed by his behavior, she tightened her
grip on the fan she held. He’d ignored her. With a sharp snap of her
wrist, she flicked open the accessory to beat the air in front of her
with ferocity. Why did she care that he’d ignored her? After all, his
attentions in public were the last thing she wanted--especially given
the fact he was no doubt as much a wastrel as her own father. She had
little use for such noblemen.
Nevertheless, a small seed of pique teased her vanity. Ophelia inhaled
a deep breath, releasing it slowly as she eased the fierce motion of her
fan. If anything, the man’s discretion had saved her from curious looks
and whispers. Her reputation was still intact, at least for the moment.
“Some
refreshment, miss?”
She glanced
at the servant holding a tray of champagne flutes and shook her head.
“No, thank you.”
“I can
recommend the glass closest you as one with an intriguing flavor, miss.”
The unusual
reply struck her as odd, and she looked down at the tray to see a small
sliver of parchment tucked under the glass. A tremor ran through her as
she reached for the drink, while discreetly pulling the note into the
palm of her hand. Without another word, the servant continued on his
way.
There was no
need to unfold the small piece of paper. Only one person would be bold
enough to send her a note in such a way. Sipping her drink, the vellum
tickled the palm of her skin in a manner similar to the way the earl had
touched her the night before. Eager to read the note, she made her way
to the ladies room. Once inside, she pretended to fuss with her hair
until the room was empty.
Her fingers
trembled as she unfolded the missive. Staring down at the bold script,
her heart leapt at the words.
Meet me outside on the patio. C.
She bit her
lip as she reread the words. Expectation skidded through her and made
her breathing erratic. What did he want? And why was she so eager to
find out? The voice of reason tried to restrain her, but there was
something about the note that pulled at her, insisting she do as the
earl asked.
Without
further contemplation, she hurried out into the hall and back toward the
ballroom. In the hallway outside the crowded room, she noticed a lovely
pair of French doors leading out onto the patio. She did not hesitate,
but quietly slid out into the sultry summer night. A small breeze
stirred the air, cooling her warm skin. The brick lined walkway
overlooked a garden lit by a full moon. Tree branches threw their large
shadows over the ground in the manner of a lover’s embrace.
No
longer in the brightly lit safety of the house, she hesitated. Meeting
the earl like this was madness. She was already taking far too many
risks as it was by offering to become the man’s lover. There was no
need to risk public humiliation as well before she escaped to Sheffield
Park in a month’s time. About to retreat back the way she had come, her
neck tingled with the sensation she’d experienced earlier. She started
to turn, but strong hands stopped her. The hard strength of his chest
pressed into her back, his fingers caressing her bare shoulders with a
lover’s touch. Heart pounding, she realized her breathing was once more
as erratic as her pulse.
“Good
evening, temptress.” The husky sound of his voice caressed her as if he
had pressed his lips to her skin.
“I…
I’m not a temptress.”
“Aren’t you?” His hands were now resting against her waist. The warmth
of his palms seeped through her clothing to burn her skin. “Your body
says otherwise.”
“I don’t know
what you mean.”
“Then let me
show you.”
His
breath whispered against her bare shoulder with the heat of a small fire
as his lips grazed the side of her neck. The touch pulled a gasp of
surprised delight from her. A second later, his fingers lightly trailed
across her throat.
“You tempt
me, Ophelia,” he whispered the words, as he feathered kisses across her
shoulders. “I’m impatient to know the color of your nipples. Are they
a flush pink or a dusky rose?”
She
gasped, “My lord--”
“Tell me
their color, Ophelia.” The deep command scraped across her skin,
puckering it with small bumps. She swallowed the knot in her throat.
“I think you
would… would call them dusky rose.” Sweet Lord. She couldn’t believe
she was talking this way with a man. Especially this man, one of
London’s most notorious rakes. She trembled as his finger ran along the
edge of her bodice in a leisurely fashion.
“I intend to
suck on those dusky rose nipples, Ophelia.”
“Oh.”
Her
breasts swelled in her bodice. They were heavy and the tips were hard.
The stiff peaks pushed achingly against her bodice. Her breathing
increased, while she struggled with the wanton sensations stirring in
her belly. The thought of his mouth on her was the most wicked notion
she’d ever had, but she wanted it. She wanted him to suck on her. A
tremor ran through her at the image.
“I see the
idea of my sucking on you excites you.”
“I… ye… no.”
“Don’t waver,
Ophelia.”
“I… yes,” she
breathed with a reluctant sigh.
With a
quick movement, he turned her to face him. She met his startling
green-eyed gaze, her heart slamming into her breast. Holding her close
to him, he traced the line of her bodice again. As he did so, her body
longed for him to push aside her clothing and touch her. To reach her
nipples and suckle her. Oh God, she was insane for acting like this.
If someone were to come out onto the patio, she’d be ruined.
“Dear
heaven, I’ve never… I don’t….”
“Don’t
think--feel.”
His
mouth singed the top of her breasts as a spicy fragrance filled her
nostrils. It tickled her senses in a way that urged her to forget every
moral lesson she’d ever learned. The aroma of his scent stirred her,
but she was unprepared for the way his tongue suddenly slid into the
valley of her breasts. Fire exploded inside her and her body cried its
frustrations at the trappings she wore.
A
quiet moan broke past her lips as she shuddered with an emotion she
didn’t recognize. It heated her, encouraging her to give herself up to
the pleasure that slid through her as his mouth danced lightly across
her skin. Firm lips nipped playfully at her skin, pulling another soft
moan from her.
Sweet
heaven, she wanted-- no, she could never label this as want, this was a
craving. A sharp need. She hungered for the touch of his mouth against
her aching breasts and any other part of her body he might wish to
explore. Beyond thinking, she did as he’d ordered. She felt.
The
warmth of him seeped through her clothing until she was consumed with
the essence of him. It filled her, heating her body until a shudder
ripped through her. Lost in an eddy of passion, her head fell back so
her throat was openly exposed to his caresses. She gasped as the rough
tip of his tongue grazed her sensitive skin just above her bodice. His
touch left behind a wet heat that stirred and roiled an answering fire
inside her.
Flames
licked their way through her veins until she burned not only on the
outside but the inside as well. Clinging to the solid strength of him,
she eagerly met his kiss as his tongue danced its way into her mouth. He
teased, excited her with his sinful caress. Dear Lord, had she lost her
mind? This was beyond ruinous behavior. Need ripped through her making
her reject the idea of propriety. She didn’t want to be proper. She
wanted to be wicked.
An instant
later, he broke the kiss and turned her away from him, cradling her
against his hard chest. The leisurely caress of his hands withdrew
until he was barely touching her shoulders. In a primal display, his
teeth scraped across her skin in a seductive manner.
“Until
midnight, temptress.”
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