An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) (18 page)

“I do.” He stood and returned to Barker where he was cooling his heels in the hall. “Helena and I have had a discussion about her situation. If you’d be so good as to follow me and show me what you’ve suggested, I can be on my way. I don’t wish to be late when I’m hosting my own dinner party tonight.”

Barker nodded but the moment he crossed the drawing room doorway, he froze, gaping at Helena like a starving man would look at a banquet. His gaze swept over the lush woman and two bright spots tinged his cheeks. At a guess, Helena hadn’t dressed this way for his prior visit.

Martin snapped his fingers before the man’s face. “Barker, pay attention, man,” he hissed.

“If she’d been dressed like that when she threw the vase I would have welcomed the pain.” He swallowed hard, adjusted his cravat and then moved to set his papers over a nearby table.

Martin met Helena’s gaze and saw a satisfied smile now graced her lips. She knew the affect she had on men, even if it had failed to work on him. If she ever turned her seductive skills on Barker, he’d be putty in her hands.

Martin picked up the first of his papers and scanned the sheet. Barker’s notes were thorough and to the point. Helena was living well beyond her means and the only way to delay the creditors was to curb all impulsive spending. He glanced at his man of business to show his approval of the fellow’s findings but Barker’s attention was again glued to Helena Ward’s lush figure.

He coughed to gain his attention. “Barker, do you remember what you said to me outside about avoiding women? Keep that firmly in mind when dealing with her or you might end up footing her bills out of your own pocket.”

Fourteen

“Did I mention how lovely you look, Iris,” Louth whispered as he took a place at her side on the settee after dinner.

“Yes,” she replied. “Several times, I believe.”

They’d enjoyed a lovely dinner together but all Iris could think about was Talbot’s men lurking on the street outside. She’d seen them. They were waiting for her to open a window to Lord Louth’s home so Talbot could steal from him too.

She glanced around the exquisite drawing room. Esme was engaged in conversation with Whitney, continuing a heated discussion begun at dinner. The pair couldn’t agree who was the most fashionable gentleman in London at present—Lord Ettington or Lord Acton.

“Well, it’s as true now as the first mention,” Louth insisted. “I’m glad you could come at short notice.”

She bit her lip as she waited for him to mention the trouble she was in because of Talbot. Meriwether had promised to speak to him and spare her the pain of confession but so far Louth had said nothing on the subject. “You are very kind.”

He leaned close. “Am I boring you tonight?”

Her eyes widened and she spun to face him. “Of course not. It is a little difficult today to pay attention under the circumstances.”

He appeared puzzled. “How so?”

His expression was open and friendly. He did not appear a man who’d just learned an unpleasant truth about his future bride. Her heart sank. She’d enjoyed a wonderful evening believing herself forgiven for her part in the robberies but Meriwether must not have found the time to mention her troubles to the earl yet. She scrambled for a sufficient response that would make sense. “You are an attractive man, and the things we’ve done together. I…”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“No, but shouldn’t I be?” She shook her head. She craved the reassurance of his touch despite the fact they were not alone. She rubbed her temple. “I do not understand myself anymore.”

“There is nothing to worry about. The best pleasure is mutual and equally distracting.” He smiled warmly. “If given the opportunity, I would have already dragged you into my arms. I wanted to kiss you as soon as you arrived. Holding back is difficult.”

“I agree.” Her tension eased a bit. If they were equally afflicted by desire then her situation wasn’t quite so bad, but her problems with Talbot were always in the back of her mind. Louth had been more attentive to her tonight than he’d ever been, drawing her into his conversations, and smiling at her so warmly her pulse quickened every time.

She would give anything to feel his arms wrap around her. To know he would understand how conflicted she was. The brief interlude on the rug in Esme’s home yesterday had proved what a very wicked woman she could be. She wanted more of that, more of his undeniably large proportions in her hand.

Louth smiled and warmth spread all over her body in a disconcerting rush. “That fichu covering your bosom is entirely too modest for my taste and I will insist you be rid of them the moment we wed.”

She glanced down at the white scrap of lace covering her upper chest as her breasts grew heavy at his mention of them. She’d pinned the lace as high as she could to cover a bruise that proved troublesome to hide with cosmetics. “I thought you would approve.”

The look he sent her suggested she should know better. “You didn’t used to wear one until recently.”

“Well, I’ll be a wife now rather than a mistress.” She blushed and lifted a hand to her face as her skin heated. “I thought I should play the part.”

“So I’m to be denied a delightful view just so you might be an unnecessarily modest wife.” He glanced sideways. “I truly don’t mind what you wear, so long as I am the only one enjoying the hidden parts.”

She gripped the settee cushion as her blush grew hot enough that she wished for a fan. While she had been intimate with him, they had never truly spoken of it in company. She clasped her hands in her lap and kept her gaze on her friends. “I would prefer to be the only one seeing your private parts, too.”

“I can agree to that very easily.” His skin darkened. “In fact, I can assure you I’ll be the most faithful of husbands. Home before my bedtime every night.”

She frowned, skeptical of such a claim. No gentleman kept to a bedtime. London was for pleasure. “You’re teasing me?”

“I am a little about the bedtime, but I’ll never stray, I promise. Too many people never keep their promises though.” He shifted closer. “Press your hands down into your lap a little harder until you feel yourself stir.”

“Stir?”

“Until your sex clenches at the anticipation of my touch between your legs.”

Her lips parted in shock at his suggestion but her body reacted with a rush of moisture between her legs. He couldn’t mean to do it here and now. “But there are other people in the room with us.”

“A little danger can add to the excitement and spur pleasure to greater heights, especially in a crowded room. Imagine finding your release in a ballroom. Press down now.”

Iris swallowed. She rarely touched herself, and then only in the privacy of her bedchamber had she ever dared truly explore her body. The idea of Louth knowing what she did alone titillated, but she was afraid too. What if she was caught? Oh, how she would blush then and embarrass herself.

She adjusted her hands a little higher in her lap and pressed down over her sex as he asked. A small tremor of desire fluttered between her legs and she gasped. There, that ought to be enough. “Satisfied?”

“Not yet, but you will be first.” He reached over the side of his chair and she was surprised to find him holding an embroidery hoop before him. “What do you think of Whitney’s work?”

She winced. The work was poorly done, uneven and lumpy stitches, but she shouldn’t really say so out loud or to him. “I was embroidering a cushion for Esme with similar colors.”

“She started this when she arrived to pass the time, I think, but her heart really isn’t in it. She loves to paint above all else.” He held the piece over her lap and she grabbed the left side while he held the other.

The hoop touched her thighs. “Press down again between your legs and rub yourself. No one can see what you do. I want you good and wet for later.”

Warmth gushed from her at his brazen words. She pressed down a little harder, pushing her skirts between her thighs and rubbing her fingers in an awkward manner to stimulate herself. It wasn’t much, but her behavior, and his scrutiny, excited her unbearably.

“That’s it,” Louth rumbled with obvious approval. He pointed to the design. “This is thistle and holly, correct?”

How could he talk of embroidery at a time like this? “Yes, I think holly is very appropriate, given the townhouse name.”

He was silent a long moment, but his gaze flickered to her secret activity between her legs. “I doubt this is meant as a gift.”

She nodded at Whitney, glad of the distraction. “Perhaps it is a small token of appreciation for all you have done for her.”

He smiled wickedly. “I’m going to keep you in my bed all night when you’re mine.”

She trembled at the idea, wishing for the privacy of a bedchamber now. Everything they had done so far had been done in rooms best meant for conversation rather than pleasure. She would like nothing better than to spend the whole night with him. She was learning so much about desire and her body’s need for touch. She truly was wicked.

He slid his fingers down the embroidery and behind the shield of the hoop; he touched her thigh and then covered her fingers.

Under the pressure of his hand, the thrill grew torturous. If not for her friend’s and Whitney’s presence, she would climb onto his lap and beg him to slide inside her body. Her eyes fluttered closed as her sex clenched at the very idea. Anticipation made her breath churn, her body throb. She wished to spread her legs here and now and have Louth’s fingers teasing her to completion. Only his touch on her bare sex would settle the anxiety in her heart that she could keep his interest after the truth was known.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Come back to me.”

His touch trailed away as Esme and Whitney laughed together. Iris snapped her eyes open and withdrew her hand from where she’d been pressing. She’d been on the verge of exploding in this very room without a thought to the consequences of being discovered.

Esme faced her a moment later. “Do excuse us, my dear. I simply must inspect Miss Crewe’s latest work of art and I believe it is upstairs.”

The pair departed immediately, leaving her with flaming-hot cheeks and unfulfilled need.

Louth stood, crossed to the doorway, and quietly closed up the room. He shook his head and grinned. “Continue,” he whispered.

She shivered at the heat in his eyes. “Without you?”

Surely tonight he wanted her body to ease his own passions? It might be the very last chance she had.

He knelt at her feet. When he lifted her skirts slowly up her legs, her body quaked in anticipation of his touch. He lifted a brow as her hands fluttered at her waist but when she boldly lowered them to her sex, he grinned widely. “Yes.”

She pushed her palm lower over her abdomen and slid her fingers through her curls as he had done before. Her sex was so wet with need she was embarrassed, but when Lord Louth unbuttoned his falls and took himself in hand, she lost any shyness. She teased the aching bud at the apex of her thighs, and slid her fingers down again into her wet heat. He eased closer and set the tip of his erection against her slit, so warm and hard he took her breath away. While she fondled herself, he teased. The friction of his erection against her body made her restless and even more needful.

“Make love to me,” she whispered as she stretched her fingers to stroke him once.

“I am. We are. There are as many ways to make love as there are days in the year, but we have little time alone so this moment must do.” He pushed into her, not breaching her but making her anticipate the feel of him. The pressure of his size hastened her touch on her sex and before too long, her legs were wide apart and she was lost.

She arched at the strangeness and the sharp longing to be one with him. As he slid along her wet sex, her hand fell aside. His cock was soft as silk against her bud and she began to tremble uncontrollably. He clamped one hand over her mouth as her body shattered and she came apart just from imagining him sliding inside her.

She fought for breath and lost, staring at the wonderful man who’d claimed her for his bride and brought such feeling into her life. He’d been correct. She’d never understood what making love to him would be truly like. She’d never imagined she could crave his attention so badly. Could love him so easily for bringing her ease without taking.

And tomorrow she’d have to hurt him.

She reached for him as he climaxed. His seed splattered her palm as he groaned darkly. He bowed his head low and drew in heavy, uneven breaths. Iris examined her hand, but he grabbed her and wiped his seed away. “I apologize for the mess.” His expression grew troubled.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “I like what we do together far too much to protest about a little soiling. Besides, it’s nice to have proof you’re as affected by me as I am you.”

He lowered his face and licked along her slit, tasting her with unhurried enthusiasm. “More,” he whispered and then kissed her there.

The touch of his mouth after such a release startled her but as he lapped at her, she grew accustomed to the sensations and found herself growing warm again. “If marriage to you will be as pleasurable as even one day a year, I would be a fool to refuse you.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to her sex then pulled her skirts over her knees. “Have you denied me?”