Kissed at Midnight (13 page)

“I have become a close
companion to the duchess,” she clarified.

Inwardly, he groaned. She’d
been hoping for the chance to tell him all and his obvious surprise had given
her that chance.

“I did not know.”

“Well, my late husband was a
friend of the duke and naturally when he passed, Her Grace took an interest.
Now I am to help. Is that not exciting?”

He stared at her for some
time, his gaze straying up to the bobbing feathers of her hat. Did he seem the
sort to be excited by gatherings? By the arrangement of flowers or the planning
of meals? Mrs Pepperwhite really didn’t understand him one jot.

Ivy did though. She knew to
leave him in peace when he was working and that frivolities did little for him.
She knew not to discuss insipid subjects but that when she was passionate about
something, he would become interested. They so rarely did small talk.

“Very exciting,” he replied
drolly.

“We are going to have a
large orchestra and a famous singer. A Miss Labelle is coming all the way from
France.”

His jaw began to hurt as he
clenched it tightly shut. Did everything have to make him think of Ivy? He
imagined her singing to a crowd at the duke’s home and everyone marvelling at
her voice and beauty. Then he imagined stealing her away and keeping her to
himself so that only he got to marvel in it. Jealousy at this fictitious moment
burned through him and made his necktie tight.

“That is fascinating, Mrs
Pepperwhite, but if you will excuse me...”

“I hope you shall save me a
dance,” she said, her voice reaching an octave that it really shouldn’t as he
made to walk away.

Dear God, the desperation in
her tone was enough to make his insides shrivel. If he paused to think about
it, he might feel pity for her but her dismissive attitude towards Ivy had
increased his dislike towards her and pity couldn’t work through it. Besides which
the woman was rich enough. She’d be snapped up by some enterprising man before
long and he’d be tolerating her sniping instead of him. He almost looked
forward to that day.

“Of course I will,” he
replied for politeness sakes. “Good day, Mrs Pepperwhite.”

For the second time that
day, he found himself escaping a woman. Between Ivy, Mrs Pepperwhite and Elsie,
the fairest sex was certainly intent on throwing him off that bridge. If only
one particular woman did not make that fall look so tempting.

August laid there for several moments, his heart beating
like a drum in his chest. He drew in several breaths and eyed the dark
surroundings of his bedroom. It was dark, almost pitch black thanks to the
heavy curtains, but his instincts told him it had to be around three in the
morning. What had awoken him at three in the morning? Was it Elsie?

He tried to stifle his
ragged breaths and listen. Strands of his dreams filtered back to him as he
waited in the darkness. He realised he was hard and his skin was clammy. Smirking
at himself, he gave up listening and relaxed against the feather pillow.

She wanted him. How was a
man meant to function when the woman he wanted was mere footsteps away? It was
a mighty fine job two doors separated them. He snorted to himself. Two doors,
what would that do? There were no locks on them. He ought to have one installed
on hers. Or better yet on his. Have her lock it from the outside and only
unleash him in the light of day when it was safe.

No, that idea was terrible
too. She’d never be safe and he couldn’t trust her to lock it. The damned
inquisitive chit was intent on pushing him until he cracked and took everything
he wanted from her.

He swiped a hand across his
damp brow. Even a day of working in the library had done nothing to diminish
his need for her. Instead he’d recalled every touch of her body and the way she
begged for him to kiss her. And then her honest admissions earlier that day...

For Christ sake’s what was a
man to do?

August jolted upright as a
thump sounded. There, that was what had awoken him. Footsteps. Was she sleep-walking
again or merely seeing to Elsie? He hadn’t heard the baby cry and Elsie was
becoming much better at sleeping through the night.

He bunched a hand around his
bedding, his muscles tight. Go to her or stay in his bed? Give in and see her
in her chemise, her hair wild around her head or lie in his cold, empty bed?
Follow temptation or retain control? He knew what he would normally choose, but
Ivy had a way of turning the world on its head and making forbidden fruit so
sweet that even he could not resist.

The door handle rattled and
his heart nearly jumped out of his throat. It seemed she’d made the decision
for him. Was she coming to seduce him? To beg him? He lay there, stiff as a
board—in many places, he admitted with a grim smile to himself—as the door
opened.

Soft footfalls announced her
entry into his room. She left the door ajar, perhaps so they could hear Elsie
though that child’s cry could echo through the most solid of walls. It meant
the small amount of light from the hallway window slipped past her and
silhouetted her form. Billowing cotton, wild hair.

Irresistible.

He waited for her hands upon
him and summoned the words in his dry throat to send her away. Apparently his
tongue had become glued to the top of his mouth because sound refused to come
out.

She lifted the blankets and
a rush of cool air slipped across his bare legs. At least he wasn’t sleeping
fully naked, though the nightshirt wouldn’t protect her from much. His arousal
currently pressed hard against the cotton, straining for release.

“Ivy,” he managed to croak
out, but she ignored him and slid in next to him. The cool air was replaced
with a warm, supple body. He groaned. “Ivy, return to your bed. I’m not doing
this.”

And yet she continued to
ignore him. Damn her stubbornness. She was determined to turn him into a
lunatic. An arm wrapped about his waist, then she nuzzled into his neck. He
waited for more. A touch to his bare cock perhaps or a kiss to his jaw but
nothing came. Instead her soft breaths whispered over the bristle on his chin,
increasing his need until he was nothing but a raging ball of lust.

What sort of torture was
this?

“Ivy, go back to bed,” he
rasped.

No response. He peered at
the top of her motionless head. He couldn’t help but chuckle. She had been
sleep-walking, not coming here to seduce him. If only that knowledge took the
edge off his need.

Still, regardless of how
much he needed to be buried inside her, he certainly wouldn’t take advantage of
a sleeping woman. He tried to ease out from underneath her but she was
surprisingly heavy.

And warm. So warm.

Soft too. Oh God, so soft.
Her hair smelled like roses and the faint scent of violets seemed to increase
as her body grew warmer against his. If they weren’t careful, they were going
to combust with the amount of heat gathering under his blankets.

His arm grew stiff and he
had no choice but to shift and curl it around her. At least that was what he
told himself. If he didn’t, he’d wake up to find it had dropped off from lack
of circulation. That was the only reason he cradled her in his arms, and it had
nothing to do with how much he’d missed having a woman in his bed. It had
certainly been too long.

Not that this was just any
woman. This was Ivy.

His employee. He shook his
head, wiping the word from his mind for a moment.

This was Ivy—radiant,
beautiful, fascinating Ivy. The woman who tested his every constraint and broke
through his control with a mere touch.

He’d have to send her back
to her bed.

She nuzzled her face into
his neck. Had any of the women he’d bedded
nuzzled
him? August couldn’t
recall. They’d been brief affairs of mutual pleasure.

Then she sighed. A deep,
long sigh of contentment. The sound enveloped his heart and made it skip a few
beats. She felt safe in his arms and he would do nothing to ruin that. He’d
help her back to bed in a moment.

Letting his eyes close, he
focused on the supple warmth of her and her steady breaths. First he would take
a moment to enjoy this. He couldn’t recall ever just embracing a woman. It was
a heady sensation indeed.

He wouldn’t let himself stay
like this for long. Just a few more minutes...

***

“Oh dear.” Ivy lifted her head away from the cotton
covered form of August. How had she ended up here? Had she been sleep-walking
again?

She pondered his arm around
her for a moment and gazed down at him. As much as she had dreamed of moments
like this with him, she’d never intended to sneak into his bedroom. Had he
awoken or had he slept through it and this was just how they had ended up,
wrapped around each other?

Skimming her gaze over his
stubbled jaw, she stared at the hint of dark hair at the collar of his shirt.
Her fingers prickled at the memory of feeling that crisp hair. And then at
feeling more than that. How would he react if she slipped a hand down and
touched him there properly this time?

August seemed determined to
put their relationship back to a master-employee status. But how could they go
back when she had seen what she had? When the memories of him calling her name
and taking his pleasure burned in her brain?

 He still wanted her,
surely? He couldn’t deny it, even if he didn’t know she had watched him. What
harm would it do? She never intended to marry or live a respectable life. She
might gain fame and fortune if she followed her chosen path but there would
still be those who saw her as nothing more than a whore. How unfair it was that
male singers never had to tolerate such scrutiny and disparagement.

Ivy allowed herself to relax
into his hold once more. What if it never happened again? What if she never
found a man who sparked such an interest? Her mother would almost certainly
call her a whore for wanting more from her master but she didn’t believe what
was between them was as sordid as the sort of thing whores partook in. After
all, he respected her. He’d proven that by his refusal to sully her.

Goodness, how wanton she
was. But who could blame her? She let her palm rest on his chest and watched
the rise and fall of it. Every part of him was hard—so at odds with her curvy
body. It fascinated her.

Of their own accord it
seemed, her fingers slipped under the loose collar of his shirt and found the
dark hair there. She swirled a fingertip through the coarse strands then tugged
lightly.

“What the—?”

He jolted awake and she
regretted her curiosity. If she had remained still, she might have enjoyed this
moment a little longer. Now he was likely to send her away.

But then she met his gaze
and saw the darkening of his blue eyes as his pupils widened. His eyes were
still slightly hooded from sleep as he gazed down at her. Her stomach flipped
over with anticipation and she drew up to lean over him, curiosity guiding her
every move. She wanted to see him better, to enjoy the sight of his tousled
hair and rough jaw-line.

Biting down on her bottom
lip, she brought a finger up to trace along the stubble on his chin. Then she
skimmed his bottom lip. A crease formed between his brows and he opened and
closed his eyes as though unable to quite understand who she was and what she
was doing.

His gaze cleared when she
brushed her finger across his bottom lip again and he nipped at the tip, taking
it lightly between his teeth before releasing it.

“What are you doing?” His
voice was gruff and it seemed to drag across her skin in the most beautiful
way, setting her body alight with awareness.

“I don’t know,” she
confessed. “How did I get here?”

“I didn’t bring you here, if
that’s what you mean.”

“Of course you didn’t.” His
hands latched around her arms and his intention to lever her away became clear.
He wouldn’t rid himself of her that easily.

She lowered to press a kiss
to the same places she’d traced. His chin was bristly and rough against her
lips. She remembered that same roughness against her skin and her sex pulsed. When
her mouth met his and lingered on his bottom lip, his hands on her arms
relaxed. Triumph burst through her.

Breasts flat against his
chest, she whispered to him, “I still want you. I’m sorry that I got
frightened, but I’m not scared now.”

His hands tightened again.
“Damn it, Ivy, do you have any idea what you do to a man? Particularly one who
has just awoken?”

“No.” She really did not.

August released her arms and
his hands found her waist. In one easy movement, he had her straddling him.
With only the cotton of their clothing between them, she felt his hard arousal
prodding her stomach.

“That is what you do.”

“Oh dear.”

“Now you see why you should
leave my room with as much haste as you can muster?”

She considered that
hardness. Then she considered the ache between her thighs. She had read and
heard enough to know that a woman could make love to a man this way. It would
be so easy.

“Do not send me away. You’re
a man of honour, August. No one could take that from you. But please do not
make me beg.” Ivy pressed herself against him for emphasis. The ache low down
increased and a short, sharp shock of pleasure rippled through her. Her lips
parted of their own accord and she repeated the movement. “I ache for you.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed
several times and she heard his teeth grind. Eyes still dark, the grip on her
waist tightened and then he moved her again. “I won’t take you,” he told her.
“But I can ease that ache.”

She couldn’t decide whether
to be thrilled or disappointed. As much as she longed to experience
love-making, it was still a daunting prospect when not completely wrapped in a
haze of desire. His reticence meant she couldn’t be wholly enveloped—at least
not while she knew she was still fighting to break through his control.

A control she could not help
admire. Would she have the same restraint in his position? Unlikely. She had
rarely been restrained. Her cold parents failed entirely to understand her and
in some respects that encouraged her to push her boundaries further. Just one
more adventure, just one more outrageous remark and then surely they’d react to
her with something other than indifference?

August rocked her slowly at
first and the gentle pulses of pleasure stirred in her sex. She had created a
crack and she was seeping in like water into a boat. Soon she would fill him...
and hopefully he would fill her. But as much as she wanted to break through and
see the man beneath the control—that tempting one that she had caught glimpses
of—she understood that she would not admire him so much without that aspect of
his personality.

He gazed up at her, his eyes
intense. That look made her chest constrict.
He
noticed her,
he
reacted to her. Under that look, she felt powerful, in control and wanted. It
was as though he had passed her that little sliver of control and she couldn’t
help be grateful for that gift.

Lips parted, breathing
deeply, she gained a rhythm with the help of his hands to her waist. She
gripped the cotton of his nightshirt as the bursts of ecstasy grew until they
were one great wave of sensation. Underneath her, his arousal pulsed against
her tender folds. He kept his jaw tight and his fingers dug into her skin.

Protected, wanted, needed.
She felt all those things and more.