Legendary Lover (8 page)

77

pair
of lovers, understanding the lady's reputation was best preserved with complete privacy. But she and Molly had a well-disposed little coz once the marquis's carriage had departed, both ladies pleased with their part in the reconciliation.

ZC/
O
 
YOU
  
THINK
  
WE
  
SHOULD
  
DO
 
THIS?"
  
VENUS

had
been having second thoughts as the carriage bowled along the streets of London. "I'm not altogether sure anymore."

They sat on opposite seats in the luxurious interior, the marquis having chosen to sit across from her when he'd entered the vehicle. Indicating
his own
level of reserve.

Instead of answering her question, he ambiguously said, "I need a drink." Reaching under the seat, he opened a compartment filled with bottles set in a sturdy padded rack.

Venus took in the array of liquors, as well as his non-answer. "You wouldn't want to run out."

"I travel to my country home on the spur of the minute occasionally."

"And it's a long drive?"

"Would you rather I not drink?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"About changing your mind?" He nodded.

"Well?" She leaned back against the black leather upholstery, her eyes holding a sharply interrogatory look.

"That's why I need a drink," he murmured, inserting a small corkscrew into a brandy bottle. "I'm also racked with indecision."

₇
8

"Drinking helps?"

"It postpones a decision.
Helpful in a way."
He of'
fered
her the
opened bottle. "Would you like some brandy?"

"Do you have anything else?"

His gaze came up as though she'd cracked a whip in the air and then he broke into a grin. "You see how unnerved I am. I'm susceptible to the most benign double entendre. But to answer your question, I have a variety of wines— a damned good claret for one, and some
Rhenish
wines that taste as though the sun is glowing in your mouth."

"You've convinced me—"

That hard-eyed gaze again pinning her to the carriage seat.

"The
Rhenish
wine, if you please," she went on, finding it suddenly titillating that she could stir such trepidation in a man of his finesse.

"Keep it up, darling," he murmured, a husky resonance in his voice, "and we might not reach the bed at my rustic folly."

"Feeling better, now that you're back on familiar ground?"

"Are you?" Taking out a bottle of wine and a small silver cup, he began uncorking the bottle.

"Yes. Don't ask me why."

"Gladly."

"You'd rather not talk about our—"

"No." Anything prefaced by
our
terrified him immensely. Handing her the filled silver cup, he said, in lieu of facing his feelings, "Do you fish?"

"Not often, but I have with my brother."

"I fish a lot."

79

He could have said "I decorate ladies' boudoirs," and she wouldn't have been more surprised.
Although, on second thought, he did perform that office in his own special way.
"I wouldn't have suspected," she pleasantly remarked, taking a sip of her wine.

"My father's gamekeeper taught me. I spent more time with him than I did with my father. A decided advantage, if you knew my father."

"He was difficult?"

"Luckily he died young."

Apparently she wasn't going to hear any further details, so she said, polite and conversational, "What kind of fish do you prefer catching?"

"Brown trout."

"With wet lures or dry lures?"

His gaze came alive in a distinctly enchanting way— a young boy's open, warm gaze.
"Wet ones.
Which do you like?"

She never would have thought talk of fishing lures could be so agreeable, so gratifying and sweetly sensual. He was a completely different man as he described his particular favorites, the special flies he tied himself; his practiced charm was replaced by an artless candor that touched her.

"We'll go fishing afterward," he murmured, leaning over to replenish the wine in her cup, the heat of his smile warming her entire body.

"Or we could go before," she teased.

"Not likely." He wasn't sure suddenly whether he could wait until the river.

"Don't I have anything to say about it?"

"No."

The single word strummed and rippled through her

8o

with
such delectable intensity, she wondered how she could have ever debated her carnal interest in him. "Am I supposed to just submit?"

His dark gaze slowly traveled down her body. "As I recall, you weren't particularly meek."

"The way I'm feeling right now, I'm wondering if you can keep up."

His low chuckle warmed his eyes. "It would be damned pleasant to try." He quickly glanced out the window.

"How much farther?" she asked, understanding his intent as though their minds were one.

"How long can you wait?"

"I'm not entirely sure. When will we reach your folly?"

"Nor for another half hour at least."

She groaned.

"There's no need to wait."

She exhaled softly, shocked at her sudden avid lust. "I don't suppose you have—"

"No, but I don't need them. Did I ever come in you last night?"

He hadn't. He'd been scrupulously trustworthy after the two condoms had been used. But habitual caution impelled her. "I don't know . . ."

"I could find some in the next village."

"Thank you, I'd be more comfortable."

"Certainly," he politely replied.

But she couldn't wait, and by the time they reached the next village, she was seated on his lap facing him, his erection buried deep inside her, and with her climax peaking, she took no notice of the storefronts flashing by.

8i

"I don't know what's come over me," she whispered moments later, lounging on the seat beside him, the remnants of her orgasm a pink sunset on the fringes of her consciousness. "I'm completely without judgment, utterly rash, senseless in my ravenous desires. Tell me everything will be all right."

He gently stroked the silk-
stockinged
legs resting on his lap. "Everything will be perfect." He bent to kiss her rosy
cheek, not so sure that
they both hadn't been lost to reason. His orgasmic passions had been so fierce and shattering, he'd been nearly incapable of withdrawing in time. But he had—just barely.

"I'm not sure I like to feel this way. Or else I want to feel this way for the rest of my visit," she murmured, reaching out to touch his cheek.

"Just so long as you know what you want," he teased.

"If only I did. But I feel terribly adolescent, indecisive . . . thinking I do, I don't, now, not now, later, forever . . ."

At the word
forever,
he looked up.

She smiled. "How easily I can alarm you."

His mouth quirked in a grin.
"I forget how different you are."

"Not out to shackle you in marriage, you mean?"

He nodded.
"Among other things."
He began buttoning his trousers.

"I thought you said we had a half hour."

He began unbuttoning what he'd buttoned.

"So accommodating,
Redvers
."

"It's not purely unselfish, darling."

They both took note of his endearment.

She with pleasure—being his darling had distinct advantages.

82

He with a modicum of shock—not at the word so much, but at the way he'd said it.

"Then I think I'll take my shoes off this time," she lightly proclaimed, civilized and cultivated, knowing better than to question an extemporaneous caprice. She began untying the ribbons at her ankles. He assisted, discarding her green kid slippers, sliding her garters and silk stockings off.

Helping her to move over him, he brushed aside her petticoats and skirt. "Once we reach the river, we'll get rid of these cumbersome clothes. I'll take you swimming."

"Will we go fishing, too?" She could feel his arousal gliding into her, filling her.

"Eventually."
He moved a delectably blissful distance.

"How do you know that's the absolute perfect place?" She softly sighed, moving her hips in the faintest of undulations.

"Just lucky," he whispered, though luck had nothing to do with it. He flexed his hips upward again exactly the same way so her small moan warmed his cheek.

"Maybe I won't let you go back to London for a long time," she said in a heated whisper.

"Maybe I won't want to go back to London." He adjusted her minutely, holding her hips and pressing down slightly.

"Oh, my God ..." Her voice trailed away in a delicate whimper.

G§TE
   
HELPED
  
HER
  
DOWN
   
FROM
  
THE
  
CARRIAGE

when
they reached his thatched cottage, and after
es
-

83

corting
her into the parlor, he left to dismiss his driver. Sam usually stayed above the stables when he came to the river, but Venus had indicated she was more comfortable alone, so he obliged. Returning shortly, he found her gazing out the leaded windows.

"I can see why you like it here. The river is beautiful, peaceful. You're quite alone."

"I like it even better now." He came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. "You're the perfect addition to my paradise."

She leaned back against his tall, strong body. "I'm very glad I decided to go to the Exhibition that day."

"The fates were kind to lead me to you.
Even though you refused me."

"The notorious Lord
Redvers
wasn't my type. You turned out to be very different."

He shrugged faintly. "There are certain presumptions in the fashionable world that aren't necessarily correct."

She twisted around in his arms. "You don't deserve your reputation?"

"Not particularly. A bachelor simply elicits a certain degree of gossip."

Although a wealthy, handsome bachelor, adored by women of passion, no doubt merited the gossip. She gazed at him with a more exacting regard, as if she could separate truth from celebrity. The dissolving, golden light from the windows softened the contours of his face, an unobstructed purity of modeling suddenly revealed. "How old are you?" she abruptly inquired.

"Old enough," he pleasantly said.

"A precise
answer
, please." His lashes were extravagantly long, thick, and lacy, like those of a
Botticelli
youth.

»
4

"Twenty-four."

She exhaled with relief. "You looked very young for a moment. I was hoping I'd not miscalculated."

"Miscalculated?"

"Your maturity."

"Are you questioning my maturity?"

"Only in an amorphous, within-the-bounds-of-convention way," she said with a smile.

"Would I be mature enough to invite you into my bedroom?" he roguishly queried. "The view is equally good from there."

"Don't tease. I'd just be uncomfortable if you were very young."

"A little late for that, isn't it?" His eyes were amused. "Would you have gone back to London?"

"Are you really twenty-four?" she quickly asked, his drollery disconcerting.

"Peggy
^w
"l
vouch
for me. But you'll not know for certain, will you, 'til we return. Will it be different fucking me, do you think?" he whispered, leaning down to lick her upper lip. "Come, see my bedroom, and we'll find out." He gently pushed her in its direction.

"I should say no . . ."

"If you could."
He compelled her forward with a hand on her bottom.

"Are you calling me wanton?" She cast a playful glance over her shoulder.

"I certainly hope so." His grin was enchanting. "If mademoiselle would instruct and edify an innocent young man, I promise to be a diligent pupil."

Spinning around, she tried to punch him.

Laughing, he grabbed her fists and, lifting them to his