Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (261 page)

70

The Viscount Claims His Bride

prizes. 'The day he raced with the local viscount in the three legged race and took third on St Day.' She looked at him with a wealth of meaning in her eyes. 'Old wives say there's a lot of good in a man who has such joy in children, Val.'

That did it. He'd been wanting her all day and not just because of how lovely she looked in her habit or the graceful way she'd moved, but because of her easy way with the children, the way everything at the simple fair had pleased her, the way she made people feel good about themselves when they were with her, even him. That had always been her gift and he loved her for it.

Valerian drew her round the back of a wide tree.

What he intended was meant to be private, out of sight of children and families.

'What are you doing?'

whispered,

picking up on his need for secrecy.

'I want to

you,' Valerian confessed, his eyes

falling on her lips. 'I've wanted to kiss you all day.'

His tone was playful. He felt like a young boy with his

miss. He bent to

her and all boyishness

faded. There was no mistaking that he was all man with a grown man's urges. At the brush of her lips, he felt himself go hard, passion and want surging through him in an irrevocable tide of longing. He'd held himself in check since that day in the giving her time to accept him again. But his grip on those reins was starting to slip.

gave a little moan of pleasure and pressed against him, a hand going to his hard length where it jutted against his buckskin trousers. Her

Scott

palm found the sensitive head of his manhood through the fabric and she gently rubbed her hand over it.

Valerian groaned, deepening his kiss, desperation to have her flooding him. He wanted to rip off all his clothes and lie naked in the grass with her.

'We must have more than this, Philippa. I don't think I can survive on

alone much longer.'

'Nor me,' she breathed, her eyes full of a pure desire that shook him to his core. This was not the calculated gaze of a woman who wanted him solely for his looks and bedroom skills. He'd seen that assessing gaze far too often in his years abroad.

wanted him

body and soul, heart and mind, perfection with imperfection,

he'd never felt more complete in his life.

'Tonight,' he whispered,

the

of her

neck.

'Tonight,' she affirmed.

The rest of the day held a heady tension for him, the activities of the fair acting as a form of exquisite foreplay, knowing that each hour moved him closer to the moment he craved.

Reluctantly, he gave into Philippa's cajoling and joined in the knife-throwing competition. He won easily, to which

remarked, 'I had no idea

you could throw a knife like that.' He shrugged and said nothing.

The paper lanterns were lit, surrounding a squared-off space for dancing. Shadows lengthened.

Night was coming. Valerian felt his anticipation ratchet up another notch. They'd be expected to

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The Viscount Claims His Bride

dance, of course. It would be wrong to leave before the dancing was underway and he found he wanted to dance. Tonight it would be all country dances and polkas,

and scoots in the Cornish fashion. It would be thirsty work. The taverner had already set up

of ale on the perimeter.

He and

led off the first dance, a rowdy,

hand-clapping country dance.

danced the

next polka with the greengrocer's son and Valerian took to the sidelines to watch. Her hair had come loose and she'd given up any attempt of putting it back in place. Now, it hung in a heavy chestnut sheet down her back, flying behind her as she and her

partner took a

She threw him a joyous smile as

they passed and he smiled back.

'She's a wonderful woman,

the vicar's

wife said at his side, following his gaze. 'Should I be so bold as to set aside a date at St for you?'

Valerian chuckled, his confidence high. 'I have hopes in that direction.' If he had his way, he'd her tomorrow. That being an impossibility, he'd like to marry her at the summer's end, after the hubbub of the London Season.

The dance ended and he went to claim

for his turn. She was light in his arms. If he hadn't known what awaited him at the end of his evening, he might have been convinced to dance with her all night. But he did know. They'd both pledged it and, from the look in her eyes, she knew it too. There was no reason to wait any longer.

The dance ended and he leaned towards her to whisper one simple word. 'Home.'

Chapter Thirteen

shivered on the threshold of Roseland. Her anticipation had grown to a fever pitch on the short ride home in the dark.

was beside her, lighting

a candelabrum left on the entry table, taking her hand, leading her up the stairs to the master's chambers.

Inside, he set the brace of candles on a small table and turned to her. He held up his hand. It trembled in the candlelight. 'See how you affect me?' His voice was husky. 'I want to please you so badly. I've thought of nothing but this for longer than you can know. Most of my adult life, really.'

smiled at his confession. She went to him, slowly removing the cravat wound about his neck. 'I

They'd come close to this on a few

occasions, reckless with hot youth. Her hands moved down to his shirt. She unbuttoned the shirt and pushed it back, his shoulders flexing to push it off.

She ran her hands down the length of his chest, exploring the sculpted torso and the sensation of