His Favorite Mistress (21 page)

She laid her palm against his cheek, his skin warm and roughed by a light growth of evening whiskers. “I am certain. I know if I asked you to stop, you would, whether you wished to do so or not.”

His gaze met hers. “And do you wish me to stop?”

“No,” she whispered, with a wicked little smile.

He laughed, but just as quickly his humor turned to a growl as his hold upon her tightened. With a muffled curse, he captured her lips again, kissing her with a raw, unstoppable possession that demanded her full participation.

She gave it, doing her best to match him, to please him as he was pleasing her. Torrid delight swam in her blood, her body engulfed with a longing she was helpless to resist—not that she in any way wished to resist, each moment being better than the last. Her mind grew hazy when he covered one of her breasts with his palm, his agile fingers gliding across her silk-covered flesh with an adept skill that sent sparks bursting like firework rockets along her nerve endings. Her nipples peaked, growing taut and aching.

“Too much?” he murmured in a husky tone as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses to her neck and cheek.

“N-no,” she said on a broken sigh.

His hand moved again, thrilling her as he slipped his fingers beneath the bodice of her gown to stroke her naked flesh. Trembling, she bit her lip to hold back a quavering moan, but he wouldn’t allow her to stay silent, capturing her mouth again to draw out the sound. Growling in obvious appreciation, he drank down her response, savoring their kiss as though she were a particularly fine draught of champagne. And heaven help her, she did feel giddy, drunk on a surfeit of sensual euphoria that left her wondering if the earth was actually spinning around her.

Curving her over his arm, he scattered velvety kisses across the bare, quivering tops of her breasts, while his hand roamed downward to explore. Completely enraptured, she didn’t immediately notice as he inched up the material of her skirt. Her blood sizzled, though, when his hand glided over her knee and across the length of her naked thigh, liquid heat pooling between her legs in a way that made her want to twitch with embarrassment. A powerful ache rose in her feminine core, along with an emptiness that begged to be assuaged. The world melted away, narrowing down to nothing more than the glorious sensation of his touch and a desperate anticipation to find out where his hand might travel next.

Like a carefree adventurer, his fingers roamed up one thigh and across to the other, learning each contour and angle of her limbs with a thoroughness that bordered on torture. Applying the wide, warm surface of his palm, he caressed her bare belly, her stomach dipping inward in equal measures of surprise and elation as he inched upward as far as her stays would allow him to go.

Her nipples tightened into sharp points, the ache between her thighs growing more intense. Then, like a blessed rain in a desert, his mouth captured hers again, taking her with a drugging, seductive hunger that made her want to weep for its beauty. His hand glided low to gently part her legs. A moment later, she gasped, the sound muffled against his lips as his fingers brushed the curls of her femininity to caress the moist, wet heat she knew must be gathered there.

For an instant, she tensed, her earlier embarrassment returning. But he seemed to find nothing amiss, giving a rumbling male hum of appreciation low in his throat as he stroked her in the most intimate of ways. Amazement arced through her again when he slid a finger inside her, her inner folds clenching around him like a glove.

Gasping for air, she broke their kiss and buried her face against the linen of his cravat. Clinging, she sank her nails into his coat sleeve, while his hand urged her to spread her legs wider. She obeyed, incapable of denying him anything at this point.
And why would I want to?
she wondered.
Not when his every movement brings me pleasure the likes of which I’ve never dreamt possible.

For a brief moment he withdrew his touch, a cry of complaint coming to her lips before he returned, tenderly easing two fingers inside her this time. Her hips bucked as he stroked, slow and deep and strong, building a need she didn’t fully comprehend, driving an unfamiliar hunger that begged to be fed. Then he did something with his thumb that drove her mad, her mind going blank as an explosion of pure, unadulterated bliss burst like a fireball through her body. Shaking, half incoherent, she let him take her mouth in a rough kiss, grateful to him for muffling the harsh cry of pleasure his touch had wrung from her throat.

Her heart thundered in her ears, Tony’s scent and touch surrounding her as she let him tangle his tongue with her own. Only then did she become aware that he was shaking too, his shoulders taut, his own need obvious, his arousal pressed rigidly against her hip.

Suddenly the coach gave a jolt and stopped. With her emotions still scattered, the cessation of movement made little sense—at least not at first. Tony seemed to comprehend well enough, though, muttering a small curse before he gently withdrew his hand and reached to toss her skirts back into place. After easing her off his lap onto the seat beside him, he levered himself up to place a couple of feet of space between them.

And not a moment too soon, she realized, as one of the footmen opened the coach door just a few seconds later.

Mercy!

She shot a glance at Tony, knowing her eyes must be wide and her expression vulnerable. “H–how do I look?” she asked, keeping her voice low so only he could hear. “Am I presentable?”

His gaze swept over her, his eyes heavy-lidded with latent desire. Leaning forward, he brushed his fingertips over one sleeve, giving the garment a subtle adjustment. “You are magnificent, Gabriella,” he whispered. “Never fear. No one but the two of us shall ever know.”

A reassuring warmth spread through her, along with a wish that he might kiss her again. After tonight, she realized she would want no other man—her passion was reserved exclusively for him. But she knew he could not touch her, at least not now, in spite of the reciprocal awareness shining in his gaze.

Taking an additional minute to compose herself, she allowed Tony to step out of the coach and help her down. Martin was waiting at the Pendragons’ townhouse door, candlelight spilling outward from the interior. Taking her arm, Tony led her forward.

“Miss St. George is weary,” he told the butler as they entered the foyer. “Pray have her maid attend her.”

“Immediately, Your Grace.”

“Well then,” Tony said as the man moved away. “It would seem you are in safe hands, so I shall bid you good night.”

She nodded. “Shall I see you tomorrow at the garden party?”

He hesitated for a moment as if he might be reconsidering their planned outing. Then his expression cleared, a smile spreading over his mouth. “I would not miss it for the world. Sweet dreams, my dear.” Taking her hand, he pressed a lingering kiss against her palm.

“Good night,” she murmured, curling her fingers over his touch as he turned to depart.

Yes,
she thought,
I will dream tonight—but all my reveries will be of you and far too passionate to be sweet.

Chapter Eleven

D
ESPITE A FEW
half-hearted attempts, Tony found it nearly impossible to keep his hands off Gabriella over the next two weeks.

At first, he’d told himself he was protecting her. Who better than he to make sure she didn’t again find herself in a precarious situation with an overeager beau? Who more determined than he to ensure she came to no harm? Yet as the days progressed, he knew himself for what he was, a rake always looking for a way to have her to himself—leading her into darkened alcoves and quiet, vacant rooms where they could share kisses and any number of delectable, forbidden caresses without being observed. Still, he was careful to maintain a strict level of control over himself, making a point to never let their love play progress to the point where he lost his head and ended up taking her virginity. Even so, he’d been giving her a bit of an education lately, finding Gabriella an apt and passionately enthusiastic pupil.

Meanwhile, word reached London that the war was over. Napoleon’s final battle had been waged on the muddy fields of Waterloo in mid-June, the Duke of Wellington and his troops dealing the French a final, crushing defeat. Ever since, the city had been rejoicing.

When Gabriella heard there were to be fireworks as part of the victory celebrations, she had insisted Tony escort her. “Oh, but we must go!” she had urged him only a couple of days ago while they were sharing supper at a rout. “There is nothing quite as splendid as a fireworks display. All the sounds and colors lighting up the night sky.”

“All the unwashed masses crammed into too little space, tipsy on drink and primed for mischief,” he countered with a wry quirk of his brow.

“Do not be a curmudgeon, Your Grace,” she had teased. “No one likes a spoilsport, you know.”

“You seem to like me just fine these days,” he’d murmured, enjoying the pink that had blossomed in her cheeks as he’d rubbed his calf against hers beneath the table.

Yet in spite of his supposed opposition to the outing, he’d been unable to deny her.

Arriving less than an hour ago, he and Gabriella had joined the noisy masses of revelers gathered in Green Park for the celebration. Rafe, Julianna, Ethan, Lily, and a few other family members and friends had accompanied them. Hannibal had come along as well—the huge, imposing servant with his glowering expression and piratical bald head precisely what was needed to scare the menace out of any would-be thieves and miscreants.

With night now fallen, the fireworks were expected to begin momentarily. Standing with Gabriella at the rear of their group, Tony used the darkness to his advantage, covering her hand where it lay on his arm. Silently, he stepped a fraction of an inch closer so that their hips all but touched. She shot him a quick glance, her lips curving into a smile before she returned her gaze, and presumably her attention, to the leisurely conversation going on between Rafe, Ethan, and the others.

He tried to focus, but found it nearly impossible with the honeyed scent of her skin teasing his nose. If he had any sense he would put
more
space between them rather than less, but ever since that night in his coach, he couldn’t seem to shake his need to be with her. She was like a drug in his system, his craving for her growing stronger with each and every encounter.

The first round of fireworks exploded in a triple burst of light and noise, interrupting his musings long enough to draw his gaze upward toward the dazzling overhead display. Beside him, Gabriella oohed and ahhed along with the crowd, cheering as each fresh burst of pyrotechnics illuminated the night sky. He smiled as he watched her, far more interested in Gabriella than the light show above.

Suddenly she turned her head and their eyes met, her mouth parting on an indrawn breath he could sense had nothing to do with the jubilation around them. Abruptly he hardened, hunger suffusing his very blood and bone with need. He wanted her, or at least as much of her as he could safely allow himself to have. Clasping her hand, he eased her slowly back so that the two of them disappeared together into the intermittent darkness.

Having been to previous fireworks shows, he knew the display would continue for a few minutes more, giving him enough time to satisfy a measure of his passion, then return her without notice. And if someone did comment, he would simply say he’d taken her to watch the light show from another vista.

Several yards distant, he led her around to the far side of a large tree and pulled her into his arms, his mouth on hers before she had a chance to say a single word. Pressing her back against the tree trunk, he claimed her with an ardent intensity. Gabriella moaned softly and slid her fingers into his hair, caressing his scalp as she kissed him back with undisguised passion.

Cupping her breasts, he stroked her, bringing her nipples to taut peaks. He heard pounding inside his ears, but didn’t know if it came from the explosions going on around him or the ones going off inside his body. Sliding closer, he let her feel his erection, shuddering when she rubbed herself against him in reply, arching forward like a warm little cat wanting to be pet.

And pet her he did, his hands roaming, even as his mouth left hers to dapple kisses over her cheeks and temples before grazing the lean column of her neck. Rolling her head to one side, she sighed as he scattered a line of kisses from her jaw to her collarbone and below.

Another series of pops and whistles sang through the air, together with fresh roars of excitement from the crowd. Drawing a deep breath, he forced himself to break away, the effort a truly wrenching one. “Enough,” he panted in a reprimand to himself. “We’ll be missed if we don’t go back.”

“Oh, must we?” she sighed. “Just one more kiss, hmm?”

Her breathy suggestion shot straight to his groin, the hard ache there urging him not to be so hasty. With a groan, he leaned forward.
One more kiss, as she said,
he mused. One more sweet taste despite the danger and the fact that her touch would only leave him more sexually frustrated than he was already.
I’ll worry about that later,
he decided as his mouth met hers, letting the pleasure take him once again.