Wallflower (Old Maids' Club, Book 1) (22 page)

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He couldn’t have answered her question
even if he had wanted to. Noah stood there, staring at Lady Tabitha
as if she were a fountain and he a man dying of thirst. He wanted
to drink from her. He wanted to taste her sweetness and bask in her
radiance.

He wanted to kiss her. Needed
to.

There seemed no way to stop himself,
not when she looked up at him with eyes harboring the power of a
storm cloud deep within their depths and luscious lips quivering
beneath his gaze. Not when she smelled like warm peaches and woman,
with just a hint of spice. Not when the heat of her body pulled him
closer, threatening to overwhelm him and destroy any ability to
think he once owned.

She took in a sharp breath of air. Her
overfilled lungs pushed her bosom up until it almost met his chest
as he lowered his head. And then his lips were on hers, and hers
yielded to him, and he was lost.

Her lips were soft and full and moist.
Noah started out trying to be tender with her, but she kissed him
back and he couldn’t contain his fervor. He fisted one hand in the
curls at the nape of her neck and placed the other at her waist,
pulling her closer until nothing remained between them aside from
their clothing. Her breasts, full and firm, pressed into his ribs,
and it took everything he had within him not to tear back the
bodice of her gown and bury his face in the lush valley between
them.

She whimpered softly and took hold of
his lapels with both hands, pulling herself higher, closer, rising
up to the tips of her toes to meet him. That was all the invitation
he needed. Noah tilted her head to the side and parted her lips
with his tongue, and he delved into the enthralling moist heat she
offered.

Lady Tabitha did not kiss like a
maiden; there no hesitancy, no bungling indecision or tenuous
pecking. She joined his tongue with her own, stroking with an
enthusiasm that sent a shock straight between his legs. His
erection was pressing into her stomach—surely she felt him
pulsating against her.

Noah’s hands moved as if of their own
accord, sliding down her sleek arms and up the silky fabric
covering her sides. His thumbs rested just below her breasts for a
moment before he slipped them higher until he could cup her breasts
in his palms. The tips hardened beneath his touch; she moaned into
his mouth when he squeezed gently. He left her mouth to trail
kisses along the hollow of her cheeks, down the incline of her
neck, along the length of her collarbone.

Her breaths came in shallow, ragged
surges as he skimmed his tongue to the hollow between her breasts.
“Oh. Oh, my,” she said on a sigh. Noah kneaded the flesh in his
hands through the slippery silk fabric. Then suddenly she jolted to
attention, pulling away from him and leaving him bereft. “Stop.
Stop that immediately,” she hissed. Her eyes grew wide, and she
jerked her head to the side with a finger held to her
lips.

Footsteps clicked and echoed in the
vast, empty hall coming from the direction she had indicated. Noah
backed away and straightened his lapels. His cravat had somehow
come loose, but there was no chance he could correct that without
his valet’s assistance. Lady Tabitha smoothed her hands over her
gown and fussed with her hair—a task he doubted her ability to
correct without a maid’s assistance. He’d done significant damage
to her coiffure.

The footsteps came to a halt, but
there was still no sign of anyone else in the hallway with them.
Noah kept as still as he could, so as not to make any undue sound.
He wanted to marry Lady Tabitha, certainly. But he had no intention
of trapping her into a marriage or forcing her hand. He wanted her
to agree to it. He wanted her to want it. After experiencing the
degree of ardor with which she returned his kiss, he finally
thought she might. After a few moments, the steps sounded again,
heading back in the opposite direction. Noah released the breath he
had held pent in his chest.

“
You should go,” Lady
Tabitha said. She took another step back, until she was stopped by
the wall. The flickering light from a torchiere overhead glinted
against eyes that were nearly black, and the sheen covering her
rapidly rising and falling bosom shimmered like the lake outside
his suite of rooms in Haverthwaite at night. “Now. Before someone
else comes upon us.”

“
But that affected you as
much as it affected me. I’ve compromised you. I can’t just leave
you—”

She shoved him back. “I don’t have the
patience for your damned chivalry. Go.” She turned and headed in
the opposite direction.

Noah couldn’t let her go. “Wait,” he
called out. She came to a stop but didn’t turn. “We need to talk
about this. Will you dance with me tonight?”

Shaking her head, Lady Tabitha said
softly, “I can’t. My dance card is full.”

He had been afraid of that. “Can I
call on you tomorrow then?”

She nodded and then hurried on her
way. At least she had agreed to that. Now he just had to somehow
relieve the nuisance in his pants.

Chapter
Twelve

Try as she might, Tabitha could not
expunge that blasted kiss from her mind. As fate would have it, the
memory of the kiss remained at the forefront of her mind throughout
the entire afternoon the day after the ball, despite the fact that
her drawing room was filled with suitors and their flowery
offerings.

It didn’t help matters any that Lord
Devonport joined these very same suitors with an armful of flowers,
himself.

Nor did the fact that he continued to
look on her with doleful eyes as she offered equal attention to
each of the gentlemen present.

Lords Villiers, Fairweather, and
Brackly were all in attendance. In his absence, Lord Kinloss had
sent a bouquet and a note informing her of his deep lament that he
could not call upon her in person today, but hoped to do so later
in the week.

Lord Devonport’s presence in itself
was a point of contention within her mind, despite the fact that
she’d agreed to allow his visit. She had requested he cease his
pursuit before that, yet clearly he had no intention of doing
so.

Tabitha was certain that, yet again,
Toby had instigated their interaction last night. After she’d left
Lord Devonport in the hall and found the retiring room, she
discovered there was no tear in her gown at all. Nothing was amiss,
save her mussed coiffure and her missing judgment. After fixing her
hair and waiting there for several moments for Jo’s arrival, she
knew she’d been tricked. Jo wasn’t coming.

Toby had sent her off on her own and
then sent Lord Devonport after her. She wouldn’t be surprised if it
had been Toby’s footsteps they’d heard in the hall, coming to be
sure that Lord Devonport had caught her.

It was enough to drive a lady to
distraction.

So much activity had come and gone
through the front doors of Shelton Hall that even Father had
stopped in to the drawing room for a moment. At that time, four
gentlemen suitors surrounded Tabitha alongside so many flowers she
thought she might find her death from sneezing. Owen and Toby stood
watch over the proceedings from near the window, talking in hushed
tones (with Toby glowering over at all the men in the room—all of
them aside from Lord Devonport, at least). Elaine fussed about,
making sure all the flowers were in vases and all the gentlemen had
everything they could wish for (most especially her
brother).

Father could not conceal his glee; the
smile upon his face brightened his graying features in a manner
Tabitha had not seen since before her mother had died, stretching
all the way to his eyes and beyond.

For that, at least, she was glad. For
herself, however...well, she was assuredly a trifle bit
incredulous. Only a week ago, she’d been stunned by having two
callers. Now she didn’t know what to do with them all. If not for
Elaine’s calming presence, Tabitha wasn’t certain what she would
have done.

But she had to remember,
while this might not have been the outcome she had expected, her
experiment of the previous night had proven successful. Tabitha had
been herself. She’d behaved as she would if she were alone with her
two closest cousins, instead of surrounded by half the
ton
. Now she would
simply have to continue along that path and see what would
happen.

“
More tea, Lord Villiers?”
Elaine asked sweetly. He nodded and held out his cup. Her intense
blue eyes—the same shade of eyes she shared with her
brother—sparkled as she leaned over to pour, then moved on to the
next gentleman, clearing Tabitha’s line of sight to Lord Devonport,
himself.

His eyes held a glimmer, too, but
they’d taken on that darker, more intense shade she’d seen before.
As recently as last night, as a matter of fact. A tingle of
awareness shot up her spine when he lifted the corners of his mouth
in a knowing smile.

Tabitha turned to Lord Brackly. “Your
brother has once again been called to his duties with the Life
Guards, you say?” His eyes widened and he swallowed a sip of his
steaming tea rather too hastily. He coughed violently and she
thought he must have scalded his tongue. “Does he think battle with
France is imminent, as General Lord Wellington seems to
believe?”

“
I could not say what my
brother thinks, Lady Tabitha,” Lord Brackly replied. “Tell me, have
you seen the Elgin marbles?”

The abrupt change of subject bowled
her over. She fought to school her features. “No, I’ve not had that
pleasure.” The gentlemen surrounding her began to murmur amongst
themselves about the marbles and their grace and beauty, debating
their level of deterioration and the legality of their presence in
England. All of the gentlemen except Lord Devonport, at
least.

“
I think,” he said above
the general hubbub, looking straight at Tabitha, “Wellington is as
good a judge of what Old Boney will do as anyone in the world right
now. He’s been fighting the man as long as anyone. And now that the
Congress of Vienna has declared Bonaparte an outlaw, he will not go
quietly. Frankly, the idea that they could keep him locked up on
Elba seems a bit outlandish to me, but no one asked for my input on
that particular score.”

Lords Brackly, Villiers, and
Fairweather looked over at Lord Devonport as if he’d grown three
heads during the course of his speech.

“
Would you say then, my
lord,” Tabitha asked, “that the call for our men to return to their
posts is a sign of looming battle?”

Lord Villiers cleared his throat. “I
first saw the friezes three years ago, myself,” he said loud enough
that the entire room would hear every word.

“
Yes, I would,” Lord
Devonport said above Villiers’s attempt to turn the subject again,
ignoring the man’s scandalized glare. He stood, and his voice
carried throughout the room even better than when he was seated.
His standing also served to call Tabitha’s attention to the taut
fabric of his breeches over his thighs, and how tightly they hugged
to him. Good Lord. She needed to stop looking at him and thinking
about him entirely. “Before the year is out, I’m sure. Indeed, I
would expect it within a few months’ time at the
latest.”

“
Lord Devonport!” Lord
Fairweather cut in. “I hardly think battles and war are appropriate
conversational subjects at the moment. There are ladies present,
sir.”

“
I’m quite aware of that
fact, Fairweather,” Lord Devonport said. He glowered in the
viscount’s direction, then spread his gaze to Tabitha’s other
callers. “In case you weren’t aware, Lady Raynesford happens to be
my sister, so I know quite well that she is hardly one to be
surprised or offended by discussion of the events taking place in
the world. And as my sister has been married to Lady Tabitha’s
brother for several years now, I happen to know that Lady Tabitha
is highly intelligent and informed, and enjoys discussing more than
just art, weather, fashions, and the latest ballroom scandals.
Indeed, discussing sculptures, several of which are of nude men,
such as you three have been, might be more invasive to these
ladies’ tender sensibilities, I should think.”

Almost despite herself, Tabitha felt a
flutter of longing flicker through her veins. This, more than
anything, made Lord Devonport appealing to her. His insistence on
treating her as a clever and sensible woman, and not as a brainless
twit shouldn’t make him appear more handsome, should it? Blast it
all, why did he have this effect upon her? She wanted to make him
crazy with need for her, not the other way around. She didn’t want
him to have such power over her emotions as this.

Owen nodded from his position near the
window. “Well said, Devonport.”

Well said, indeed. Tabitha inclined
her head in Lord Devonport’s direction and he gave a small nod. The
Lords Fairweather, Villiers, and Brackly each looked sufficiently
admonished, but eventually began to speak again. The conversation
turned from the wars to an impending issue facing the House of
Lords and other subjects of weight, then eventually to theater and
opera and other subjects of lighter fare.

Tabitha enjoyed herself immensely. She
loved being able to have an intelligent conversation with a man (or
with several, as the case may be), without having to resort to the
fluff that was generally accepted for ladies.