His Forbidden Debutante (20 page)

Pure sensual abandon. There was no other way to describe the expression on her face. He watched as her lids fell closed, creased and twitched, reacting to each deliberate rub issued with elegant skill. She grew restless, seeking something and not knowing how to achieve it. He smiled and stroked more purposely, placing his thumb across her centre as he dipped his finger into her core. She gasped, delight and shock, a murmur of contented satisfaction fast to follow.

Offering pleasure became excruciating torment. How long could he last? To touch and tease, prepare, when all he wanted was to drive into her, bury deep and claim the woman he’d come to love, a woman who possessed his heart, mind and soul, who would someday become his wife.

He couldn’t stop now. He wanted, he loved, and no matter his brain hummed with urgent warning, he needed Lavinia. With insistent rhythm he worked his fingers to seduce and taunt, and all the while she melted beneath his touch, dissolving in pursuit of elusive gratification. He urged her further, stroked, rubbed with intention, knowing he tested the boundaries of his own thin restraint.

And then, with a plea that was more composed moan, she shuddered, her climax all-consuming as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her. He watched and savoured, a private voyeur, so stiff his cock ached, yet unwilling to impose on her bliss.

She must have sensed his confliction, aware as she seemed to be, and she stilled, twisting on the counterpane to face him, kissing him on the mouth in distraction as her fingers found the buttons of his trousers. It proved his undoing. Again, his undoing.

He took her mouth, swallowed her gasp of surprise and pushed her hands away. With deft accuracy he opened his falls, but the little minx persisted, sliding her hand down the length of his taut shaft, erasing all thought with a bold stroke of erotic invitation. His mind blanked when she touched his cock. His breathing seized. She didn’t know what to do, yet that sweet ignorance made her caresses all the more erotic. Quick to learn, she moved her hand up, then down, his grunt of appreciation spurring her to repeat the motion, more purposeful and tight. His muscles tensed, his eyes half-lidded, the pleasure too great to withstand much longer, yet she continued, determined in her task.

‘Shall I kiss you there, too?’

The mattress dipped and he felt her move closer, his eyes clenched against sensation. When her hair feathered against his ribs, he lost the battle she’d waged. Unable to stop the intense, consuming pleasure, he rolled aside and pulsed hot and hard, recovering his shirt from the mattress at the last moment.

Chapter Sixteen

‘I never experienced anything like that before. My legs were strong and weak at the same time and, inside, everything collided as if I was beginning and ending at the precise moment you touched me.’ She offered a slight smile as she viewed him within his embrace. ‘I don’t know how to describe it differently. I’ve always managed to express my feelings, but now I must sound foolish.’

‘Not at all. Your letters conveyed a personal depth of sense and emotion that never failed to touch my heart. I sought to do the same.’ He searched her face before settling his gaze on her drowsy expression. ‘It’s growing late, Livie. As much as I’ve dreamed of you in my arms and in my bed, you can’t fall asleep here.’

‘Oh, I could, quite easily, but I won’t.’ She sat up in one swift movement, a shake of her head sending ribbons of silken hair over her shoulders in a casual toss that could only be habit.

‘I love you, Livie.’ He bared his soul and she remained silent. An unconscionable quiet invaded the room until, at last, she answered.

‘Do you? Or do you love the idea of me? Words on paper? A safe romantic notion?’

Each word was a slice to his heart, though she spoke them in barely a whisper. ‘No. You couldn’t be more wrong.’ Her expression had changed along with her cautious enquiries, and with the haze of passion cleared, truth pressed in on them both.

‘One day.’ The words were composed despair spoken in a resolute vow.

‘Wrong again. Not someday. Not one day. Right now.’ He meant to reassure.

‘No, you have one day.’ Her eyes met his with honest challenge. ‘One day to prove every word you confess now, otherwise I will have no choice but to believe you untrue.’

He waited, absorbed her ultimatum and accepted it as definite.

‘Then send me a letter when you’ve accomplished the task. It will be received with the greatest anticipation.’ She canted her head to the side and looked at him with honest adoration. ‘I’ll gather my things.’ She slid from the mattress, all at once determined. ‘I hope I don’t need to wait overlong for a hackney.’

Confused, he dressed in a silent mechanical hurry, ignoring the meticulous care Strickler had worked tirelessly to ingrain, and finished by shoving his cravat into his right trouser pocket. Lavinia had accomplished more with far less effort.

When they were reassembled, he watched her burrow through her valise and remove an alternate set of slippers explained away with five words.

‘I travel with several pair.’

But he couldn’t allow her to leave without further conversation. Not after what they’d shared and what he intended for their future.

‘I shall call on you tomorrow when I return to London.’ His words were tentative at best.

She shook her head emphatically. ‘Do not, please. You mustn’t do that.’

At her continued silence, he inclined his head in wait of explanation.

‘I believe you, Randolph. Every word you whispered while I lay in your arms, but you cannot pay call until you settle the situation with Miss Allington. You do understand, don’t you?’ She paused for a breath that seemed to settle her words. ‘Dashwood is alerted to the predicament and between my maddening behaviour last night and spontaneous trip to Essex today, I’m certain the entire household will be in high dudgeon when I return. It will be a wonder if anyone trusts my word again.’

Impressed by her level-headed stratagem, he offered a wooden nod before he checked the hallway for clearance. She allowed a brief kiss to her cheek and swept from his room to leave him baffled, befuddled and deeply in loving want of her company, much like prior to their meeting, only worse for having tasted her charms.

Lavinia settled against the leather seat in the hackney and released a shuddering breath. Walking away from Randolph with a forced grin and specious attitude of bravado was the most difficult thing she’d ever accomplished, and considering her past efforts to relearn how to walk and regain her life’s balance, she’d overcome surmountable struggle for the comparison.

Yet it had to be done. He was promised to another and she would never be his, not completely, not in loyal, honest dedication, until he initiated a resolution. Their relationship lay in wait of his actions; but only temporarily. She would not spend any more days brooding for the man if he proved untrue.

She’d expressed the same in economical language as she’d departed, not wishing to lead or explain. Each minute, hour and day come to pass would predict their future.

Of course, she needed to deal with the present at present. The subject made for pensive consideration all the way back home, despite she may have napped for a small part of the journey.

When the hackney pulled to the curb, within seconds she gathered her things and exited, scurrying up the slates leading to the wrought-iron fence which circled Kirby Park in a safe haven, separate from the unpredictable life of London. She hurried further onto property, up the front porch where the door whipped open before she’d managed the brick-laid steps.

‘Livie.’ Wilhelmina’s stern exclamation broke the silence, her face creased with lines of concern. ‘I don’t know if I should hug you or wring your neck.’ Her toes nearly clipped the heels of Livie’s slippers as she followed into the hall. ‘Where have you been? What have you done?’

Thinking better than to cause additional attention, Livie moved with brisk purpose towards the front receiving room and, once inside, sister in tow, she closed the door and confronted the problem. Whimsy’s face pinched in an expression of barely restrained patience.

‘I needed to discover the truth about something. Nothing more, nothing less, and now I’ve returned no worse the wear, so let’s not burden the issue with a huge discussion.’ She took a seat in the yew-wood Windsor chair near the hearth. The fire existed as a low burn, the final embers of the day. It hissed a sigh of equal discomfiture which somehow consoled, similar to the warm remembrance of Randolph’s embrace. She smiled without thinking the better of it.

‘Livie.’ Wilhelmina moved to stand before her. ‘I was worried sick. You left before sunrise with only a brief note of explanation, one that I didn’t discover until well after breakfast. Since that time, I’ve worn the carpet thin with my pacing and barely managed to keep all of this from Aunt Kate.’ She waved her arm towards the stairs in an emphatic gesture of frustration. ‘Do you have any idea how difficult it was to prevent Dash from sending men in search of you? He’s convinced you’re angry with him after a conversation you shared last evening, yet he wouldn’t elaborate, and insisted I speak to you directly. Yet you left after you promised no more impetuous behaviour. The whole day has become a mixture of worry and anticipation. What were you thinking with this foolish escapade?’

The final question drew her attention from the flames. ‘I recall several unchaperoned adventures and risky endeavours before you married Dash. Never once did I fault or criticise you. A loyal sister should trust my judgement and believe in my ability to make smart decisions.’

Whimsy went to her knees at the corner of the Windsor chair. Her face softened with some mixture of relief and concern, all previous perplexity absent. ‘I do trust you. You’re smart and clever and far more courageous than I, poised to begin a successful season as society’s darling, and I want nothing to interfere.’ She reached and enveloped Livie’s hands. ‘You must understand I worry terribly. I nearly lost you once. You almost died.’

Livie pulled her hands loose and stood, pivoting to walk a hard line in front of the fireplace fender. ‘And ever since you won’t let me live.’ Aware her voice trembled, she took a steadying breath and continued. ‘When I was bedridden it was easier, wasn’t it? You checked on me in the morning and evening, secured I waited under the counterpane, safe and sound. But now, when I stand on my own and venture into the world, you and Dash wish to wrap me in cotton and keep me in a box like a precious china figurine. I don’t want to be fragile. I want to live. I don’t care if I break. I’ll mend. But I’ll never know how strong I am unless you allow me the freedom to make my own choices.’

No doubt the bold declaration surprised her sister, but Livie didn’t miss the glint of admiration evident in Whimsy’s intense expression as she rose and strode closer. Something changed, eased and transformed, as less than a minute ticked by on the long-case clock.

‘I know you, Livie, better than anyone. You give your heart completely, without thought or expectation. You pledge your love and loyalty with the purest intent. These qualities are admirable and valiant, very brave indeed, considering the state of our world, but knowing all this doesn’t prevent me from wanting to shield you from heartache. It was not so long ago you were avowed and dedicated to a man you’d never met, but had come to know through frequent correspondence. It’s a romantic notion, isn’t it? I’ve worried many a day and night over that predicament and feel relieved you’ve abandoned that infatuation. Still, I find you more spirited than I realised. Perhaps I’ve been too engrossed in the planning of your debut to notice this new-born determination. I accept it, if this quality embodies your true character, but promise me you will never disappear without my knowledge. You owe me more than this lack of consideration. Isn’t that true?’

‘Yes, of course. You have my word.’ She burst with the desire to mention the error in Whimsy’s assumption that her correspondence with Randolph was nothing more than dotty fancy, a young girl’s calf-eyed adoration, but the elucidation would wait for later. So much depended on Randolph’s actions during the next twenty-four hours, it was difficult to focus on anything else. She’d put all her hopes and dreams in his trust and refused to consider were he not to prove as dedicated as this afternoon. Posing the time constraint on his affection was a daring move that threatened to break her heart, yet it had to be said, the only true way to know his intent.

God help her, she would never survive if he disappointed her.

‘You must be exhausted.’ Whimsy nodded as if to confirm the conclusion already decided. ‘Let’s get a good night’s rest so at breakfast we may share every minuscule detail from last evening’s celebration. There’s so much to discuss – the guests, fashion and overall success of your debut. I don’t even know who claimed your dances or caught your eye, but I saw you on the dance floor for every melody. All of my planning over in one evening.’ The mutter followed her out the door and Livie moved with slow steps after.

Randolph climbed from his curricle and unlatched the gate to enter Clipthorne, intent on speaking to Claire. He’d sent a message, more an urgent request to meet, anxious to clear the air and resolve the predicament plaguing his heart. How did one break an engagement without somehow landing in breach of contract, or worse, at the end of a razor-sharp rapier? With wry irony, he surmised Allington, senior or younger, would enjoy skewering him with a sword once the engagement was broken. Would Allington pursue legal recourse despite the consequence of a scandalous and damaging blow to reputation? Especially if Jasper’s suspicions that Allington longed for aristocratic ties proved valid.

The tangle of unanswerable questions brought him to the front door and he followed the butler to the main drawing room where he waited with barely harnessed patience, uneasy and at the same time determined to somehow find a path to conciliation.

Blast, there were only three days until… until nothing, now. Marrying Claire was no longer an option. Truly, it never was. He’d managed to bury his discontent and disguise his intention well, but deep down, when honesty overrode all other considerations, somehow he’d always known he wouldn’t declare vows at the altar with Claire. All his contemplation and indecision had evolved from the deep-seated belief his heart was intended for someone else.