Once Upon a Scandal (14 page)

“It’s a force of habit. I will work hard to overcome it.”

“I’m afraid it won’t be enough, my dear. We haven’t the time before you go to London. You need a rudimentary understanding of the mechanics, and a man to introduce you to them. It’s vitally important to your disguise.”

It took her a moment to comprehend the statement, only the fraction of another to be horrified. She was hardly the sort to fling herself at the nearest footman, after all. And she could admit to herself, but no one else, that there was only one man she wanted to kiss. Foolish girl.

“I understand your point, but honestly, I can’t.” Her voice was a desperate whisper. “There must be another way.”

“Jane, you’ve nothing at all to fear. Tell me, did you ever take dance instruction?”

She nodded mutely. She’d excelled at those lessons. She loved to dance.

“Well, this will be very much like learning the opening movements of a quadrille. You step together and then apart. But of course in this case, your lips, instead of your feet, are doing the dancing.”

“That is a ridiculous image,” she said, unable to will away a small smile. “And a scandalous one.”

Sophia chuckled. “A further example of your innocence, my dear. A kiss is an exploration. And if one is lucky, it can be the prelude to a wonderful adventure.”

“Shouldn’t it also mean something? I never dreamed I’d have to sacrifice my first kiss for the sake of a cause. To bolster a disguise.”

“We all have to make sacrifices for our country.” Sophia walked towards the bell pull. “And from the look of things, Marworth will be happy to oblige.”

• • •

“You want me to do what?” Benjamin exclaimed. And it humiliated Jane, the vehemence of his response. His eyes swept hers, as if he couldn’t believe she’d agreed to such a scheme, before flashing back at Sophia.

“It’s a simple enough request,” the countess replied. “Jane has never been kissed. She will need to know how it’s done. Where the hands might go. The angle of the chin … ”

“Can you not be more euphemistic?” Jane asked, cringing. “If only to save me some measure of embarrassment?” Her toes had curled in her slippers, trying to find purchase on the floor beneath her. She’d once read of wood-eating bugs, native to tropical areas. She’d have welcomed them now, in a circle chewing beneath her feet, if only to hasten her escape. Especially with Benjamin clearly struggling for his response.

“It is the dream, of course … of any man. To … ah … have that honor. To find such a woman … Lord, I’m making a mess of this.” His eyes were beseeching. “Surely, this should not be forced upon you. You’ve been waiting, no doubt, for the right man.” Obviously, he was trying to refuse her gently.

To think she’d believed, that night in the hall, that he’d wanted to kiss her. And today. Smoky eyes indeed! If she had a stick, she’d likely hit him with it, because she felt like lashing out. It was immeasurably preferable to running from the room in tears.

But instead, she took a deep breath, falling back on her instinct for rigid self-control. “It’s all right, Lord Marworth. I understand. Lady Marchmain merely thought it would be a good idea. I honestly don’t think such a situation will arise. I’m quite good at deflecting a man’s attentions.” Which, of course, was a lie. There’d never been the need.

“Really, Benjamin,” Sophia said. “I hadn’t expected you to act like a child just off his leading strings. Can you not see the wisdom of this? Unless Lillianne endured a loveless marriage to an elderly and impotent man, she would have had some experience at kissing.”

“Pasqual wasn’t elderly,” Jane cut in defensively. “He was in the prime of his life, only thirty years old, when he was thrown from his horse and trampled.” And she’d just been reduced to blurring the lines between fiction and reality. “I’m sorry,” she finished lamely.

“No, Jane,” Benjamin said, taking a step towards her. “In the middle of an awkward conversation, you remembered your role. It’s what I need you to do. It was marvelous.”

When she flushed with unexpected pleasure at his praise, she wanted to scream at herself. This really was the most untenable situation. “I’ll ask Jonas. Or perhaps Pierre, because I assume the French have a different technique than the English, and if any of our targets tries to steal a kiss, that’s what they’ll be expecting.”

“No,” he blurted out, just as she was turning to leave. “Please don’t do that. It’s a dreadful idea.”

“Actually, Benjamin,” Sophia observed, “it’s a sound theory. I wish I’d thought of it beforehand. We wouldn’t have needed to bother you.”

“It’s not a bother,” he said, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “And I do see the logic in all of this. I just don’t want you, Jane, to feel pressured in any way. A first kiss is something special. It should not be a lesson.”

“Isn’t it always something of a lesson?” she asked before she could stop herself. “It’s a new experience, after all.”

“I suppose when you put it in that light ... ” His eyes locked on to hers, forcing the air in her lungs from her body. “If you really think it will help … ”

“Very good, then,” Sophia said, clapping her hands together. “I’m so glad this problem will be addressed. I’ll leave the two of you alone for a short while, and then we’ll all enjoy a spot of brandy.” She smiled at Benjamin. “I warned you might need it.”

God help her. This would likely be the most embarrassing moment of her life. But also the most exciting.

Curst be the impious hand that would dare to violate the unblemished form of Chastity!—
Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women

It had been so easy to tell himself the countess was right. Jane needed a lesson in seduction to be convincing in her role. She was an utter innocent after all, and there was no such thing as a virginal widow. A lingering embrace—nothing more—would give her an air of experience, yet another layer for her disguise. And couched in those terms, a kiss between them was practically noble.

But he was fooling himself, because he wanted her. He’d wanted her from the moment he’d found her in that study, tossing books into the fire. He’d tried to deny it, but slowly, insidiously, that want had become a craving.

How was he to demonstrate the mechanics of a kiss and not give in to his desire to do so much more? Jane was staring at him expectantly, even if there was more than a little shyness there. She didn’t understand a kiss between them would change everything. She didn’t know his hands were clenched at his sides, his heartbeats skipping over themselves. So he simply stood there, saying nothing. Hoping the moment would pass, and they’d both come to their senses. Hoping with equal fervor they would not.

“This is rather awkward.”

“Not at all,” he said, praying humor would mask his turmoil. “I’m approached for this sort of thing all the time. My reputed expertise, you see.”

“I don’t doubt it.” And there was something in her voice. If he didn’t know better, he might have called it jealousy.

“I am joking, you know.” Her eyes grew wider with each step he took toward her. Did she realize how expressive they were? She was undoubtedly nervous, but curious too. When they were mere inches apart, close enough that her face was almost nestled against his chest, he stopped. “You will need to do one thing for this to work.”

“What’s that?” she asked, speaking into the folds of his jacket.

“You will need to look up.”

She did, and something hot uncoiled inside him. Because her face was flushed, and her breathing had quickened, and those magnificent breasts were pressed against him.

“There are several types of kisses, Jane,” he said, his voice raspy now. “A light peck on the cheek. A quick meeting of lips. Both are expressions of affection or friendship. For the sake of our task, I will show you one quite a bit different.”

The eagerness with which she nodded was almost funny, but he didn’t feel like laughing. He felt like driving her back against a wall and losing himself in her. But he could not. He would not. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” he ordered. And up they went, her touch light as butterfly wings, landing far short of his shoulders.

“You’re too tall.”

“I’m afraid it can’t be helped.” He put his hands then at her waist and nearly groaned, because her gown was a filmy thing, and she wore no stays, and it was almost like touching skin to skin. She was so delicate. The weight of his desire alone could crush her. “Perhaps it is you who is too short,” he said, because he needed the distraction of sound. Something to calm the blood rushing to his loins at an alarming rate.

“I’m afraid that can’t be helped either,” she said with a soft smile.

It was that smile that stilled him. Shy but willing. And he knew it instinctively. She would give, and he would take. Lesson be damned. A better man would step away and end all of this before it began.

Something must have shown in his face, because she lowered her hands, and those expressive eyes looked down. “It’s all right if you’d rather not do this,” she said. “You weren’t really given a choice.”

She’d mistaken his hesitation for disinterest. So even though this was a terrible idea, one he would no doubt regret profoundly, he put a hand beneath her chin and gently lifted her head to face him once more. “Never doubt you are desirable,” he said, cupping her cheeks with both hands. “I want to kiss you more than you can possibly imagine.” And then he brought his mouth to hers.

When their lips touched, she tensed, understandably skittish. The nervous exhalation of her breath fanned his cheek. So he slipped his hands to the nape of her neck, caressing the soft skin there, kneading gently as he drew her closer, angling his head to take more of her mouth.

So soft and ripe. He focused on her full lower lip, sucking gently to coax her to relax. “Open your mouth,” he whispered. And when she did, her warmth nearly overwhelmed him. His tongue swept in to taste her, and after the slightest hesitancy, she swayed into him, arching her back as he leaned over her, matching his kiss with a natural passion.

He knew himself very well when it came to matters of the body. He had kissed scores of women. Had perfected an ability to enjoy the pleasures they offered while remaining separate and apart. But this was something different. He was spellbound by the feel of her, the softness of her skin, the way her flesh seemed to leap at his touch. He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, curving to her waist, memorizing her contours. And then his arms encircled her, pulling her flush against him, and he nearly shuddered, because it was an exquisite torture to be nestled so close to the heat of her beneath her dress.

When she gasped, he knew he’d frightened her. No doubt she was shocked by the evidence of his arousal. So he forced himself to loosen his hold, only to be awed when she lifted her arms and pulled his lips back to hers. This time, it was her tongue that stole into his mouth, all hesitancy gone, drugging him with her eagerness. A low moan of longing slipped from his throat. He wanted nothing more than to pull her dress off her shoulders, to kiss down the contours of her neck until he reached her breasts. He wanted to take them into his mouth, drawing in their tips, suckling until she cried out with the same desperation he was feeling. He wanted every inch of her body.

Madness. That’s what it was. A sickness that would turn him into a ravening beast if he weren’t careful. It was a surrender he could not afford. Not with this woman. With a restraint he hadn’t known he possessed, he eased away, rubbing the pad of one thumb over her mouth as every instinct railed against the distance between them. “Those are the mechanics of a kiss,” he said, taking a first step back, and then two more, until he nearly tripped over a small side table blocking his retreat.

“So that’s what all the fuss is about,” she said, her eyes still bright with passion, her lips swollen. She would never know the temptation she presented.

But she must have sensed it, because in the next moment, she sped from the room, brushing past Sophia Middleton as she crossed over the threshold.

• • •

She ran as quickly as she could down the hallway, up the backstairs, and through the servants’ quarters to the attic. With a push against the door leading to the roof, she burst into the bright afternoon, her breath coming in pants. Not that she was tired. If she’d been a bird, she could have flown across an ocean. She was teeming with a strange new energy, nearly drunk on it.

Over the course of her life, she’d spent any number of hours—days really—imagining what a proper kiss would feel like. She’d closed her eyes, pressing her fingers to her mouth, pretending they were a man’s lips meeting hers. And if in those daydreams, the lips had belonged to Benjamin Alden, she didn’t feel guilty. It had only made sense to kiss the most handsome man in London.

She knew now her fingers had been a sad substitute, and bony ones at that. Because the reality of his lips on hers had been magic. So gentle at first, nearly reverent, easing past her awkward innocence. But then his tongue had slipped into her mouth, an unexpected intimacy, sparking so many sensations at once. His body had pressed into hers as he wrapped her up in his arms. She’d felt the pounding of his heart and the desire strumming through him, barely leashed. An answering desire, roiling up inside of her, simmered through her veins, urging her to press still closer, to climb inside him if she could. To discover all the mysteries his eyes and his hands hinted at.

It had been rather silly to exit the room as she had, but it had either been that or surrender to a wicked impulse. One that would have asked him to strip her bare so she could feel his mouth trail along her body.

No wonder girls had chaperones with them wherever they went. No wonder men and women could not be trusted alone in the dark. If she’d contemplated such a rash act mere moments into her first kiss, imagine what might have happened if she’d not heard the footfall of Sophia Middleton’s approach.

Just imagine.

Heat swept through her. She was certain now that parts of her body had been made specifically for his touch. The nape of her neck. The tips of her breasts. That secret place at the apex of her legs, which she’d studiously avoided her entire life, because she suspected it had a power she couldn’t define. Each had throbbed with anticipation when she was flush against him, as if they’d been waiting for him forever.