Lisette (6 page)

Her senses were responsive to him. Her skin
was aware of the stirrings inside her—that attraction, and a potent
disquiet. Her mouth watered.

Peeking at her hand on the chair back, the
backs of her fingers against his shirt below his broad shoulders,
Lisette felt the urge to lift them and allow her fingertips to feel
that skin through the thin garment.

At some point—Lisette did slowly uncurl them
and subtly let them touch. When Marston stilled she knew he was
aware of it.

To cover her boldness, she said with forced
lightness, “Play that one next.” leaning up again to point to the
card.

He leaned his torso her way, showing her the
card she could already see. She discerned he did it deliberately to
make them nearer to each other. “That one?”

“Yes.” She whispered.

He played the card, but Monty won that
set.

Haven and Juliette arose to fetch the cart
they had had brought in with pastry and refreshment. They were over
there talking about husbands, and Monty and Deme were having a
conversation.

Lisette scooted up more, to shuffle for
Elisha. She could feel his gaze hot on her neck and face and at the
point she set the deck down for him to deal, she peeked at him.

He was waiting for it apparently, and
murmured, “I fear I am as yet skilled in… the nuances, I depend
upon you to guide me in the right direction.”

No woman of Lisette’s love of excitement and
familiarity with sophisticated flirtation could miss the meaning.
Nor could she pass up the offer to participate in quite another
game. “I shall endeavor to do so, Marston. It would please me above
all things to have a hand in your—newly acquired skills.”

The others came back and he dealt the cards.
Lisette observed though during the game, when she spoke in his ear,
her hand would subtly brush his strong back. Her nipples had a
tingling itch and grew harder when he deliberately let his cheek
graze her lips at another point. From that point, they found subtle
ways to brush each other’s skin. He more or less caressed her lips
now with his cheek. On more than one occasion, Marston dropped his
hand from the table and though it looked as if it rested on his
thigh, it was touching her knee.

Lisette was aware of the others, the game,
but was soon too caught up in her senses to care who won. She felt
it was the same for Marston.

After that set Monty suggested, “Ladies, will
you excuse us to enjoy our cheroots and brandy?”

Lisette arose also, needing to make use of
the retiring room.

“Marston?”

“I’ll join you directly,” he said with a half
grin.

With Juliette and Haven across the room, the
others gone, he looked up and uttered, “Would you mind handing me
my jacket.” He nodded to where it lay across a chair back.

“Not at all.” When Lisette brought it to him,
she watched him unfold his tall frame, using a smooth motion so
that the jacket over his arm and hid his groin. She took everything
in, the tension in his hard face, glitter in his eyes, and had seen
that distended outline in his snug fitting trousers.

Lisette glanced up.

Their eyes held a brief moment before he went
to join the men, and she up the stairs.

In the bathing closet, Lisette relieved
herself and washed her hands. Then with fresh water, she dampened a
cloth and raised her hair to pat the back of her neck with it.
Seeing the sparkling of her aqua eyes, the slight full look to her
lips, and her flushed cheeks, she felt not relief but another
lightening quick surge of pleasure at their play arousing him.

Setting the cloth down on the pan, she raised
her hand to the low square bodice of her gown, letting it rest
there and feeling her heart racing. Moistening her lips, Lisette
eased her fingers downward in the bodice, edging past the silk
neckline of her camisole until she touched her hard-distended
nipple.

Closing her eyes, she felt it and with the
other pressed a hand to her sex when the warmth and tingles
increased. Opening her eyes, she wafted a long breath and removed
her hand from the pocket of material. Yes, many things about being
a woman were exciting.

Smoothing a hand over her tied back hair, she
left the chamber, not hearing the others until she entered the
parlor once more. The men were not back, as yet, and Juliette and
Haven were in a corner admiring some piece of art the duchess had
sent Juliette.

Going over to the windows, she noticed a hard
black rain had started. Touching her finger to the chilly pane, she
was able to see her reflection and that of the room when the men
entered. Lisette observed the way Marston casually laid his jacket
back over the chair, and saw Deme and Monty join their wives, and
heard a new conversation start.

The Viscount had seen her, and was walking
over to join her. She watched him arrive via that reflection. When
stopped, he was standing behind her. His height and breadth were
emphasized, or rather; her pettiness was—since her head was even
within his breastbone. He made all appearance of watching the rain,
but was eyeing her reflection as well. They did that for an
extended time. Lisette realized he could see her breasts rising and
falling—likely had noted her nipples were pressing against the
bodice.

At some juncture, they both heard Monty say,
“No, you may as well stay over. The weather is quite foul. I gather
that Haven and Juliette are going to talk weddings and marriage.
We’re to be your witnesses, ole man, so I suppose you had best
decide if you are having the ceremony in Wheatstone chapel or
where.”

As Haven was accepting, when Deme called out,
“Would you mind, Lisette—”

“No. of course not. You don’t want Haven out
in this storm.”

Haven moaned. “If you two don’t stop coddling
me, this will be the last child I bare.”

“Never say so love.” Deme cried. “You do so
love how we get them.”

There followed chuckling, intimate jesting,
from and between, the couples.

It was soon apparent they were done playing
cards. Lisette turned and looked up at Marston. “Excuse me; I’ll
help them right the room.”

He stepped aside his gaze raking her bodice.
“You seem chilled. Would you like my jacket?’

She grinned. “Chilled? Not at all, Marston,
quite the opposite.”

“Elisha,” his soft deep voice insisted.

She nodded but went on to help assist a maid
who came for the cart.

Lamps were turned down and the couples
settled into what seemed like intimate chatting, sharing something
only, those who were or soon to be wed, who were lovers, would.

It unintentionally left Lisette and Marston
feeling on the outside, yet Lisette was certainly having carnal
thoughts when she eyed the Viscount—and suspected his were not
exactly pure either.

“Chess?” she asked at one point.

He seemed relieved and nodded, releasing a
sigh as he stood.

Upon learning their intent, Monty insisted,
“It is already set up in the study. We shall only distract you—and
you’ll need your wits with Lisette.” He laughed. “If we retire,
just ask the servants for whatever you need.”

“Coffee.” Lisette asked and the request was
sent. She avoided raised brows from Haven and Juliette when she
followed Marston in the study.

She heard Deme say, “No need of a chaperone
with Lisette, she carries a dirk in her garter.”

She appreciated the Viscount’s quick wit when
he returned, “Unfortunately, I shall never feel its prick.”

From the laughter of the others, they enjoyed
it too.

The chess set was a lovely one of jade and
ebony pieces. The table was just back from the fire in the
comfortable room, a chamber saved from been gaping, considering its
size, by the manner in which it was divvied into library,
billiards, desk, and sitting areas.

“Thank you.” She grinned at the maid who left
a cart with pot and two cups by the table they sat at.

The table was small, only large enough to
hold the carved chessboard. The chairs they drew up were winged,
because though she may have chosen one of the Queen Anne’s, she
knew his size would not bear one.

He poured their coffee. She watched him,
watched the firelight on his pristine shirt, his hair, his jaw. He
handed hers, she took it, and while he got his, she eyed the round
shape of his muscled thighs, already having admired his carved
backside.

He sat then, knees slightly apart and while
drinking; his one hand was on the scrolled arm of the chair.

She raised her gaze and drank, their eyes
holding before he lowered the cup. No effort was made to start a
game. The tension was there. The awareness was strong—and growing
more so.

“I noticed that you enjoy sport and games,”
he supplied.

“Yes. They add excitement to life, don’t you
think?”

His lashes dipped slightly. “I regret I have
not had much opportunity to form such an opinion.”

“You’re an only child?”

“No.” Something flashed in his eyes before he
murmured, “Marston’s are—strictly raised.” Then he offered, “I’d
prefer not to waste this opportunity we have, Lisette. Or rather I
have.” His mouth curved. “I am sure I would like to have no other
tutor in whatever sport you choose.”

Setting her cup down, she scrapped her teeth
over her lip before looking over him, half excited by the prospect,
but not having a real plan in her head—and taking a close enough
look at his dark craggy face to assure herself that he could be
trusted.

She began, “You seem like a man who strictly
adheres to rules, Marston.”

“Elisha.”

She nodded “Elisha, then. As you have
doubtless observed, the Wimberly clan does when it matters. But if
we’re speaking of enjoying oneself, then that requires not only
impulse but imagination.”

He was listening closely.

Lisette leaned up and made a move on the
board.

He leaned up too, and countered it, but also
brushed her hand with his. Their faces were close. Lisette was
aware of him coming closer still.

He was a breath away and she boldly let her
tongue brush his lips lightly. They tasted delightful, supple and
soft.

His lips parted slightly while he met that
teasing with his own.

After running hers along the fullness of his
lower lip, she pulled back, and made another move on the board.

He countered. So it went for some time, each
time they leaned up, met, stroked tongues, tasting lips, breathing
terse and warm, and more rapidly as the play went on.

Her body fully aroused, becoming more so by
his surprising sensuality, Lisette offered no resistance when he
cupped the back of her head and their partly open lips were
touching.

Irregular breaths came with an ultra-slow
easing of their tongues into each other’s mouths. Once fully
tasting, she made the first move to taste him.

He countered.

Time—became insignificant.

Her hand cupped his nape. Moving her head
while her tongue sensually found the secrets of his mouth, Lisette
moaned when Marston took that invitation. Flames licked her
insides. She was dizzy.

He sucked his lean cheeks in and caught her
tongue.

They parted. Lips open now, and panting
breaths obvious. His sooty lashes half shielded his silver eyes—yet
nothing could hide the aroused glitter.

She looked down at the board and made a move,
and lost her knight to him.

Lisette laughed breathless. “Were I not
enjoying the distraction, I would be a more challenging
opponent.”

“You’re the most challenging woman I’ve ever
met.” He sat back and his hands resting on his hard thighs whilst
he visually scanned over her.

She made another move. “When did you meet my
mother?”

“I knew of her.” He looked down and moved his
piece. “But I spoke to her after I had seen you at the Salon.”

Her brow rose. “I’m surprise you went there.
It doesn’t seem like a place you’d frequent.”

“It was my first time. I had gone with Mr.
Smith.”

She watched his face, sensing there was more
than he was admitting. “I have gone for years. One thing that I
enjoy is watching people, lovers mostly.”

“A voyeur, are you?”

“No. I’m not that rude.” She laughed. “I was
speaking of body language and looks, that sort of thing. Though, I
suppose if one were a voyeur, it would be harmless so long as the
person or people they watched were of consent.”

He stared at her. “I suppose you are
right.”

When they made their moves this time, both on
the board, and with their lips. From that point kisses were
sometimes closed mouthed, soft touches of lips—but the tension was
just the opposite—hot and taut, in her body. In his. In their eyes,
when they parted.

Fortunately, for them, they were at the game
when Monty opened the door.

“We are retiring. You shall be at the end of
the hall, Lisette. And Marston, you know your way, by now.”

* * * *

Elisha was surprised when Lisette stood and
told him. “We shall retire also. We can finish the game another
time.”

Disappointed at the abrupt end to their
intimate game, he quipped, “She is losing anyway.” And Monty
laughed.

“See yourselves up or ring for the
housekeeper.”

“No need.” He heard Lisette say.

The door was left open. Though Monty left, a
maid came to take the cart; thus he was prevented from saying
anything or asking—because of that.

As discreet as he could, Elisha hid the
painfully aroused state of his body, and made it to the parlor to
collect his jacket, to shield the evident state of his cock.
Everyone was saying their goodnights, and lamps were being
adjusted. A waft of air rippled over his shirt. His hard nipples
felt it.

Going through mental exercises to ease the
tension in his muscle and skin, he said all the proper things,
taking up the rear as the couples holding hands as they progressed
up the staircase.