A Lady's Guide to Improper Behavior (17 page)

“It’s not true,” she finally rasped. “And you’re mean to attempt to try to distract me from your story by telling me mine.”

“It’s not a distraction.” He sat heavily in the chair by the window. “Your guilt gives you something in common with me, but it’s an illusion. I’d rather have you run now than later. Because India
was
my fault.”

That stopped the additional protest Theresa had been about to make. “You think after you tell me what happened to you, I’ll realize we have nothing in common after all?”

He avoided her searching gaze. “I just…you don’t need to keep punishing yourself, Tess.”

“And you do?”

“I’ve recently been called a liar and an incompetent coward. Fifteen men have only me to speak for them. I intend to do so. And it won’t be pleasant.”

The door rattled. “Colonel? The maid’s looking for Miss Tess,” Lackaby called.

Tolly looked at her. He expected her to leave, she realized. A few days ago she would have done so. Today, though, Bartholomew James seemed to be
saying precisely what she’d wanted—needed—to hear for years.

She turned around and opened the door. “Please tell Sally to wait for me in the kitchen.”

“I can do that. There’s, ah, a lack of a chaperon in here. Should I, ah, come in? I don’t embroider, but I could polish boots.”

But she didn’t want a chaperon. Neither of them could speak as freely as they had been with a chaperon present. Theresa frowned. “I will give you five pounds if you will find somewhere out of the way to polish boots and tell everyone later that you were in here.”

The valet grinned at her. “Would an hour suffice?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

He bent down and picked up the pair of boots sitting just inside the door. “Be good to him, miss,” he whispered. “The next few weeks won’t be.”

She closed and latched the door again, then joined Tolly by the window. “You’d best begin telling me your tale,” she said, sitting in the chair opposite him. “We only have an hour.”

Unexpectedly, he snorted. “You arranged for us to be alone for an hour, and you want to spend the time talking?”

“I want to know what happened.”

Pushing upright, he put his hands on either arm of her chair and leaned over her. “The problem with that, sweet Theresa, is that when I’m close to you, I can’t seem to think of anything but you.” He kissed her, tilting her chin up and molding his mouth to hers until she moaned.

She reached up, sliding her arms around his neck.
Just as he said, when they were together, everything else fell away. Even the realization that he was
still
not telling her what she wanted to know—even that didn’t matter. Not when they had only an hour.

Using the chair’s arms, Tolly muscled himself down onto his good knee, the other leg bent only slightly and angled to one side. It still looked like it hurt. Leaning forward, she followed him down so that their faces were nearly level.

“If you stay, Tess, you will not be able to put this chapter into any booklet on proper behavior.”

Theresa touched his face. “Today I’m trying out a new path,” she breathed, shivering all over. “A bit of impropriety.”

He untied the ribbon at the waist of her gown. “A great deal of impropriety.” Sitting back just a little, he curled a loose strand of her light-colored hair around his finger. “You make me feel human again, Tess. Alive. And you’re safe with me. I swear it.” Slowly he drew her in for another kiss. “I promise it, and I don’t generally make promises any longer.”

“You make me feel alive, Tolly,” she whispered back. That was it; when she set eyes on him, when she chatted with him, her heart beat faster, she smiled more easily, even her steps felt lighter. And it had been at least thirteen years since she’d felt so…carefree.

When Alexander had kissed her—well, she couldn’t even remember what it had felt like. But it hadn’t felt like this. Bartholomew slid his hands slowly up her legs, her skirt lifting beneath his fingers.

“Tolly?” she said in a breathless voice that didn’t much sound like her at all.

His palm brushed the inside of her knee. “Yes?”

“If I asked you to stop, would you?”

Amber eyes gazed at her from only inches away. “I’ll tell you what. You come down here with me, and I’ll leave stopping up to you.”

With that he sat down, scooting backward on the floor midway between the chair and the bed. Then, still watching her, he untied his cravat and cast it aside, then one by one opened the buttons of his waistcoat.

Theresa couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Everywhere his fingers went, her mind followed, imagining that it was her touching him and undressing him.
It could be, stupid
. All she needed to do was sink down onto the floor. What the devil was she waiting for? After all, he couldn’t very well chase her down if she decided to run.

Not that she wanted to run. Tolly lowered one shoulder, then the other, and pulled his coat from his shoulders. A slight smile touching his wicked mouth, he removed his waistcoat, as well.

“Shall I continue?” he asked. “Or would you care to join me?” His gaze stroked boldly down the length of her, then lifted again to her mouth. “Come here, Theresa,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that went all the way through her.

This was the moment. The moment she could choose whether to stay in her safe, bright, proper garden, or climb over the fence to see what life might offer. And over
this
fence there waited a handsome, battle-hardened man who had been creeping into her heart for weeks. Since the moment they’d met.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, Theresa slid
down from the chair and sank onto her knees. “Are we going to be completely naked?”

His lips curved. “Ideally.”

“Then you should have your boots off.” She clasped the heel of his right boot and tugged. It pulled loose, and she set it down aside. “I’ll be careful with the other one.”

Tolly cocked his head, leaning back on his elbows. “I know you will. And I’ll be careful with you, sweet Theresa.”

Of course he would be. She’d never had a single second of hesitation about that. She trusted Bartholomew James. It was the rest of the world and their opinions where she had her doubts.

Pushing against the top of his calf, she pulled the heel of his left boot. With a slight wince that he swiftly hid, Tolly shifted just a little and the boot came free.

“Well done. I told you that you have the makings of a fine valet.” His smile deepened. “Come up here and kiss me.”

Low excitement and arousal coursing through her, she glided up over him as he sank back flat onto the floor. Theresa lowered herself along his chest and touched her mouth to his. Tolly slid his arms around her back and shoulders, pulling her closer still. Slowly she relaxed against him, her world narrowing to where they touched, hips, breasts, and mouth. He felt warm, even through their clothes.

His hands lowered to her bottom and he gently squeezed, in a way that felt very good and very naughty. Then he began pulling the hem of her gown
up toward his hands. Nerves fluttered through her again. “You should be naked first,” she decided.

“Then get to work,” he returned, amusement in his voice. “I can’t do everything.”

“Well, I’ve never done this before, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

He shifted again, taking her hands and placing them on the bottom folds of his fine linen shirt. “And I never thought to do this again.”

That made her hesitate. When they’d first met, he had conducted himself like…like a dead man. He said she made him feel alive. Until now she hadn’t realized that he meant it literally. It was a very powerful feeling. Letting out her breath again, she slipped her hands beneath his shirt and pushed upward, unfurling like a cat as her palms caressed warm, soft skin and hard muscles beneath.

Bartholomew groaned softly, lifting his shoulders a little and raising his arms so she could pull the shirt off over his head. With her hands on either side of his shoulders she sank down to kiss him again. This was absolute heaven, and she wanted more. More, more, more.

“As you wish.”

She hadn’t even realized she’d spoken aloud until he answered her. Tolly fiddled with the front of his trousers, tickling against her stomach, then lifted both her and his hips to shove his trousers down.

“I’m naked now,” he announced, kissing all along the base of her jaw until she felt like nothing but a mass of aroused, lightning-tipped nerves. And she had her gown, her shift, and her shoes on. With a
very handsome, very naked man beneath her. She shifted her hips, feeling the large, hard…thing pressed against her. And she wanted to see him.

Theresa rolled off his right side, her legs tangling in her disheveled skirts. “Oh, my,” she whispered, looking down past his hips.

“Turn around,” he said with a deepening grin, and made a spinning motion with his forefinger. “I don’t want to tear off any buttons.”

Buttons
. Oh, yes, her dress. Reluctantly lifting her gaze, she turned away. Tolly sat up behind her, and as she pulled his trousers the rest of the way off and then slipped off her shoes, he unbuttoned the back of her gown.

Pushing the material forward, he kissed the nape of her neck. “Can you put your hair up on your own?” he asked, his voice not quite steady.

“No. It took Sally twenty minutes to pin it up this morning.” And she’d been so impatient to be gone to James House the entire time.

“Then I won’t take it down,” he breathed, sounding wistful. “This time.”

His kisses continued along her shoulders, inch by inch as he bared her skin. She turned and caught his mouth for another kiss, their tongues dancing as she moaned helplessly. “This is very nice,” she breathed.

Bartholomew pulled her arm to turn her back to face him. With his help she freed her arms from the dress, and he lowered it to her waist. “Very nice,” he echoed, brushing the backs of his fingers across the outside of her breasts and then drawing them closer and closer until he dragged his thumbs across her nipples.

She gasped, jumping at the sensation. With a low sound, Tolly shifted her onto his lap. “Up,” he said, pushing her dress down her hips.

Theresa lifted up, and a moment later she was as naked as he was. More naked, because he had a bandage around his left knee. With anyone else she would have been embarrassed—mortified, but Tolly seemed so…fascinated with her that she was too occupied with trying to remember his every touch, his every breath, that the thought didn’t even occur to her except in passing.

“What should I do?” she asked, shivering again as a palm covered her breast.

“Whatever you want. I, for example, intend to do this.” With a glance up at her from beneath his thick eyelashes, he dipped his head, his soft, warm mouth closing over her other breast.

She dug her fingers into his ragged, mahogany-colored hair, throwing her head back as his tongue flicked across her nipple.
Oh, good heavens
. No wonder this wasn’t considered proper behavior. She didn’t feel at all proper. What she did feel was wild and wanton and very, very naughty. If he could put his mouth on her, she supposed she could do the same to him. In a moment, of course. She had no intention of stopping him as he turned his attention to her other breast.

When he went after her mouth again, she pushed against his shoulders. She couldn’t possibly have budged him if he wanted to stay put, but he gave in and lay down flat on his back again. Mostly flat. The very interesting bit in the middle wasn’t at all flat.

She kissed his mouth, then trailed her lips down
his throat as he’d done with her, feeling his pulse and the faint stubble of beard beneath her touch, then the irregular pattern of the scar at the base of his neck. He jumped a little, but she kept kissing him. In a moment she felt him relax again. Now that she had something to compare it to, she could swear that she almost felt as drunk as she had last night—only more euphoric, less weighty. Floating, almost.

“Straddle me,” he growled, lifting up to catch her mouth with his again.

Oh my, oh my
. Shivery and nervous again, she did as he asked, placing her knees on either side of his hips, that interesting part of his she’d most recently discovered brushing the inside of her thighs with a warm insistence that had her panting.

“Tolly.”

He sat up, putting them eye to eye. “I want to do this right for you,” he said, his fingers trailing across her skin as though he couldn’t help touching her. “But I’m a bit hampered at the moment.”

“Are you? I hadn’t noticed.”

“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Bartholomew kissed her again, one hand on her face and the other dipping breathlessly between her legs. “Follow me,” he murmured, drawing her down on him. “And not to make another excuse, but you’ll more than likely enjoy this more every time after this.”

“This is very nice.”

He smiled. “Just don’t yell, or we’re both in trouble.”

Carefully she sank down on him, feeling the tip of his very large member sliding up inside her. The sensation was…indescribable. Why would this make her yell?

Tolly put both hands on her hips. “There are better ways to do this,” he continued, “but I’m bloody well not willing to wait.” Slowly he pressed his hips forward, pulling her down on him at the same time.

She felt resistance, then sharp pain. Before she could yelp, Tolly kissed her, muffling the sound. Theresa doubled her fists, clenching them against his shoulders. He kept very still, and after a moment the pain began to fade, replaced by…“Good God,” she muttered, arching her back.

“Mmm-hmm. Move with me.” Tolly pulled her forward, impaling her more fully. Rocking back and forth, clinging to him, she couldn’t even speak as he filled her and retreated a little, only to return with a rhythm that had her moaning in time.

Holding her around the hips again, he increased his pace, his heated gaze nearly as arousing as his body moving inside hers. The muscles across her abdomen tightened, bringing her closer and closer to the edge of something she couldn’t describe, but abruptly needed desperately. Faster and faster, deeper and deeper, and then she gave way. With a keening groan that didn’t even sound like her everything went white and hot and pulsing all around Bartholomew.