Never Miss a Chance (19 page)

She leaned back against him.  Her bottom pressed against his
cock and she heard him groan.  She knew he was as anxious as she.  The honor
which had prompted him to offer for her had no place in this embrace.  It was
about man and woman, driven by need and something much deeper.  At least it was
for her.

His hands drew back, but before she could protest, she felt
him undoing her gown, kissing her neck as he went.  First her gown fell, then
her corset and finally her chemise.  She somehow had the strength to break away
from him, then turn to look at the man who was driving her wild.

She’d never seen him as lost to passion as he was at that
moment.  Breathing heavily, he was as far from his usual urbane self as it was
possible to be.  His eyes devoured her, and everywhere his gaze landed, she
felt heat.

“Take your clothes off,” she said, wondering how she found
the breath to speak.

He nodded slightly, then tore off his jacket and waistcoat,
as she removed her slippers and stockings.  She watched as he took his shirt
off, marveling at his bare chest.  He undid the placket of his breeches and her
breath hitched as his hard cock jutted outward.

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed.  Not by the thought of making
love to him, but by what she would be forced to do when it was all over.  She
turned toward the lake, then started walking.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a raspy voice.

She kept walking, but looked back at him.

“For a swim.”

She felt him come after her even before she saw the flicker
of motion.  She laughed as she ran ahead to the lake, then waded in and began
swimming.  The cool water felt refreshing on the hot summer night.  He soon
caught up to her, then pulled her into his arms.  His lips came down on hers
possessively.  There was no hesitation.  No sign of the polite gentleman.  All
she felt was hunger and passion.  His arms pressed her to him as his muscular
legs entwined with hers as they worked to stay afloat.

He lifted her enough to bring a breast to his mouth.  He
suckled her nipple, sending sensation all the way through her.  Nothing about
this was gentle, but she knew she was safe.  She could spend a lifetime in his
arms and know nothing but the passion which would keep her warm on the coldest
of nights.  And more importantly, kindle the joy in her heart.

He moved one hand down her body, then slid a finger into
her.  Her muscles immediately gripped.

“Oh, love,” said Marcus with a groan.  “You’re so tight.  So
wet.  So mine.”

Any thought he had of stopping was long gone.  He had to
make her his.  Tonight.  He pulled his finger out, then moved the head of his cock
to her opening.  He rubbed back and forth until neither could stand the tension
any longer.  He pressed in for half an inch, then slid out again.  He repeated
the motion over and over in an agonizingly slow rhythm, trying to stretch her,
trying to ease his way in.

She had her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms at his
shoulders.  And as much as she wanted to look down to see how they fit
together, she was unable to look away from the eyes that were locked on hers. 
It was a memory she’d keep with her always.

He lifted her in his arms, then began wading back to shore. 
He carried her out of the water, then laid her down on the grassy bank.

He covered her with his body.  A wall of muscle.  The man
she loved.  He’d lost none of the urgency as he spread her legs with his
thigh.  “My love,” he whispered, “I’m afraid this will hurt.  I’ll be as gentle
as I can, although God only knows how I’ll be able to keep myself in check.”

“I don’t want you to hold back, Marcus,” she said as she
kissed him.  “Please….take me.  I want to be yours tonight.”

At the words, Riverton’s last bit of sanity fled.  With one
hand under her bottom, he guided the head of his cock to her creamy opening. 
As gently as possible, he pressed into her.  His cock was swollen harder than
he’d ever known it, and she was incredibly tight.  Even as wet as she was, he
could feel her tense as he slowly pressed further in.

He kissed her.  And as he tangled his tongue with hers, he
breached her maidenhead.  He felt her flinch, then stilled and cursed himself
for causing her pain.  But at that moment, buried so deeply in the woman he
loved, he knew this had been predestined since the time their souls had formed.

His thoughts were interrupted by Lizzie clearing her
throat.  “Marcus,” she whispered.  “This has been most fascinating.  But
there’s more, is there not?”

He smiled, kissed her once again, then began to move
slowly.  Inch by inch, in and out.  Setting a rhythm she had no problem
following.  They lost themselves in each other. 

Riverton wanted to make it last for hours, but knew he was too
close to the edge.  He moved his hand between them, pressing Lizzie where she
was most sensitive.  She immediately came for him, issuing a most gratifying
cry.  Moments later, Riverton followed her over the edge. 

It had been an experience beyond any he’d ever known
previously.  He was in awe of where they’d go from there.

*                    *                    *

The knock at the door caught Tara unaware.  She quickly put
away her notebook, then reached for the knife she always kept close, even
though it was most likely the maid Lord Riverton had so kindly assigned to
her.  How he was related to his mother and sisters, she hadn’t a clue.  The man
was the only decent one in the lot.

She opened the door to see a pile of freshly laundered
undergarments.  But they weren’t being delivered by the maid.  They were in the
hands of Lord Arthur Kellington.

“Returned, as promised,” he said, as he simultaneously
deposited the clothing into her arms, stepped into the room and shut the door
behind him.  “And in much better condition than when I found them.  It looked
like you’d been rolling around in the mud, my dear.  And while that conjures up
any number of delightful visions, it can’t possibly make your maid’s life any
easier, can it?  Oh, but I forgot.  Your maid didn’t accompany you.  And where
did she go again?”

“Get out of my room,” she said, even as she felt the tiniest
bit close to swooning by having Arthur in her bed chamber.  And she never
swooned.

“Is that any way to treat your most trusted confidant?”

“You are not my confidant, my lord, nor can I imagine any
circumstances in which you’d be terribly trustworthy.”

“Then you have a limited imagination.  But fear not – I have
enough for the both of us.  However, what I’d truly like to know is who you are
really and why you’re trying to conceal a knife in your hand.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Tara placed the knife on the
dresser, then stalled for time by slowly putting away her undergarments.

“May I help with that?” asked Arthur.  “I’ve always wanted
to get into a lady’s drawers.”

At her fuming look, he innocently pointed to the dresser and
its drawers.

She somehow stifled a smile.  “I am Tara Rennard, a distant
relation of Lord Riverton and his family.”

“Then you have aged exceptionally well, since the only
female Rennard I could find in the family Bible would be in her late 60s.”

“The Bible must not have been updated.”

“That is, of course, one theory.  In this case it’s not the
right one, but it nevertheless qualifies as a theory.  But fear not, the Bible
is secreted away in my room, safe from Charlotte’s prying eyes.”  He turned
serious, as he looked around the bed chamber.  “But if you have come to rob the
place or otherwise wreak havoc, I’m afraid I’ll have to make your deception
known to Riverton.  He is a good friend to my family and will soon marry my
sister.  I cannot allow you to importune him.”

Tara took a deep breath and considered her options, well
aware of Arthur’s intent gaze on her.  He had the appearance of a
ton
rake who wandered aimlessly through life, but she was beginning to realize that
wasn’t the real Arthur.

And, in other circumstances, she would’ve liked to have
known the man beneath the veneer.

Finally, she spoke.  “I’m looking for something.”

“That’s obvious.  But the question is what do you seek?”

“A treasure map.”

Judging by his look of surprise, he hadn’t expected to hear that. 
“Somehow I don’t remember pirates ever sailing on Riverton’s lake.”

“It wasn’t a pirate.  It was a common thief.  My mother’s
aunt used to tell us stories about a treasure that had been stolen from my
great-great-grandfather.   The thief had a partner who double-crossed him.  As
the man closed in on him, the thief hid the treasure away, then left a map
leading to it.”

“And you believe he left the map in Riverton’s lake.”

“I don’t know for sure.  But my family has been searching
for the map for generations.  I recently acquired some old letters written by
the thief which alluded to a lake in Kent.  I thought perhaps he might’ve
hidden the map here.”

“So you invented the story about being a family connection.”

“Yes.”  He could tell she was genuinely conflicted about
it.  “I don’t mean any harm.  I just want to recover what belongs to my family.”

“Why not simply tell them what you seek?”

“Perhaps I would have, if Lord Riverton had been at home
when I arrived.  But, well, I’d heard stories of his mother and sisters.  I
didn’t think they’d be the type to let me look for the map, then simply take it
away.”

“They definitely would’ve let you search for the map.  But
you’re right about the taking away portion.  How do I know what you’re telling
me is true?”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I’m afraid not.  I don’t trust easily.  It’s a bad habit of
mine.”

“One of many, I’m sure.  You’re a gamester, are you not?”

He nodded.

“Then you doubtless have the ability to read people.  You
tell me if I’m being truthful.”  She closed the distance between them, then
looked up at him. 

As he gazed down at her clear blue eyes, her full lips and
the wisps of fiery hair that refused to be contained, he knew she wasn’t being
completely honest, but he was equally certain she posed no danger to Riverton’s
family.  Despite the knife on the dresser.

“What about the Marleys?” he asked.  “Are they in on this,
too?”

Her face shuttered before she turned away.

“The Marleys are almost certainly as they seem.  They’re no
concern of mine.”

Again, he knew she wasn’t being completely truthful, but had
no real evidence on which to base his claim.  “Well, Miss Rennard – or whatever
your name is – your secrets are safe with me.  You’ll note I referred to
‘secrets’ in the plural, since I’m sure there are more than one.  I will,
however, be watching.  And if you attempt to hurt anyone in this household,
you’ll most definitely regret it.  Now I must wish you good night.  It’s time
for me to go back to my bed chamber and bar the door.  Charlotte can be most
persistent.”

Then he slipped out of her room, leaving Tara equal parts
worried and intrigued.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“You are as utterly useless as teats on a bull,” said Edith
to Stalford, as they met in a clearing in the woods the next morning at the
indecently early hour of nine of the o’clock.  Edith had sent him the summons
two hours earlier, awakening him from a most pleasant dream involving two opera
dancers and an obscene amount of winnings at the gaming tables.  Stalford had
been tempted to ignore the message, but had no doubt Edith would awaken him
even earlier the next day or place snakes in his bed or come up with some other
torture like making him listen to more of those dreadful Italian arias from the
night before.  Besides, however unpleasant the conversation would be, at least
with Edith, things were always interesting.

An odd realization, that.

Stalford raised a brow.  “Most ladies do not use the word
‘teats’ in polite conversation.”

“I think you’ll find, Stalford, that I’m not like ‘most
ladies.’  Nor do I care to be.”

“I had already gathered as much.”

Stalford eyed the woman who’d become such a thorn in his
side.  There was nothing of the timid, insipid miss about her.  She was quite
unlike the other ladies of the
ton
, from the use of salty language to
the total lack of dissembling when they conversed.  Edith was a devious one,
but oddly, in her interactions with him she’d been refreshingly honest.  An
attribute he normally had little use for.  She made no effort to cover up the
less savory parts of her personality.  He wasn’t even sure she possessed a
sweet side.  She had a goal and would do anything to achieve it.  As a
politician, he admired that drive.  If she’d been born a man, she most likely
would be Prime Minister by now.  It was a chilling and surprisingly erotic
thought.

She even looked palatable today.  Her
modiste
had a
talent for emphasizing Edith’s strengths.  Her bosom was well displayed, even
if it was smaller than his usual taste.  But for some reason it worked on her. 
Something about the cut of her gown brought out the generous swell of her
hips.  For a fleeting moment, Stalford wondered what it would be like to grab
onto those hips as he plunged his cock deep inside her. 

Physically, her sister Charlotte was much more his type. 
Full-breasted, long legged.  She’d made her availability for dalliance known to
him the previous night, as she’d cornered him in the garden when he’d gone out
to have a smoke and relieve himself on the specially bred Riverton Rose.  She’d
caught up to him on the smoking portion of the journey, then grabbed his cock
and told him to visit her chamber.  She’d also made it clear that while her
matrimonial sights were still placed at a marquess level and above, there was a
possibility she might consent to marry him if enough groveling were involved. 
She didn’t specify the amount, but Stalford assumed it would be rather a lot. 

Stalford had been tempted to take her up on the offer of her
bed.  It was a rare occasion indeed when he passed up the chance to have sex
with a lady as superficially lovely as Charlotte.  But for some reason he’d
turned her down, only to have her question his manhood loud enough for a nearby
footman to hear.

Now he was in a secluded area with the plain sister, who’d
most likely laugh him off the estate if he made a move.  Not that he was
thinking of making one, of course.  She was really a most unpleasant chit,
despite the dowry.

“What in God’s name are you thinking about, Stalford?” she
asked.  “You look like a simpleton denied a treat at the fair.”

“Pardon me, Edith.  I was lost in thought.  Pray repeat what
you were saying.  I can only assume it was something brimming with the milk of
human kindness.”

“What are you doing to separate my brother from Elizabeth?”

“I was hoping to act the gentleman…”

“Yes, ‘act’ being the operative word.”

“Might I continue?”  At Edith’s grudging nod, he did.  “I
shall court her and listen to her plans for changing the world until I want to
cram knitting needles into my ears to avoid hearing any more drivel about the
injustice of it all.  As if I gave a shite.  And I believe I can use that word
without offending your delicate sensibilities?”

“You’re going to have to do a great deal more than that if
you want her to break things off with Riverton,” said Edith.  “Today’s
Times
contains an announcement of your betrothal to Elizabeth.  I’m certain Lynwood
will make haste in coming here once he sees it, so you have only a limited
amount of time to make that fantasy a reality.”

Stalford looked at her dumb-founded.  “You placed an
announcement in the
Times
?” 

“Of course I did, just as I arranged for the insufferable Lady
Nicholls and the pain in the arse Melissa to be stranded on the road Riverton
would take to come home.  I couldn’t very well leave things in your moronic
hands, could I?  Of every useless, good-for-nothing….”

Whatever else Edith was about to say was lost as Stalford’s
lips came crashing down on hers.  After a shocked moment, she pulled back. 
They were both trying to catch their breath.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“To shut you up, Edith.”  Then he pulled her to him again
and there was nothing soft or easy about the embrace.  Just two people
devouring each other in a kiss.  She reached for his hand, then placed it on
her breast.  He grabbed her other hand and pressed it onto his cock.  He was
pleased to hear her gasp as she felt just how hard he was.

She pulled him to the ground and they rolled on the soft
pine needles, each fighting the other for supremacy.  He’d never been one to
seduce virgins because there was too great of a chance of it leading to the
dueling field.  But with Edith, he’d make an exception.  He knew things were
moving fast and he needed to slow down at least a little to keep from hurting
the chit physically.  But before he could even think of tempering his
movements, he was flat on his back and Edith was straddling him.

She was also releasing the placket of his breeches.  Without
thinking, he pulled Edith’s gown up, feeling her strong thighs that gripped his
hips.   His erection sprang forth and Edith squeezed his cock, then began to stroke.
 The head was inches away from her curls.  But he needed to pull back.  He
needed to prepare her.

“Edith,” he could barely get the word out.  She was stroking
his cock like a courtesan and he was in danger of embarrassing himself.  “This
could hurt….”

Edith positioned herself over him then plunged down until he
was deeply seated in her.  He almost spilled his seed.  Nothing had ever felt
as good as Edith on top while he was deep inside. 

She paused and met his eyes.   “You didn’t think I was a virgin,
did you?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“Imbecile,” she said as she swooped down and bit his
shoulder harder than one might expect, then began riding him.

All thoughts of going easy fled Stalford’s mind.  The harder
he thrust, the more wanton she became.  He gripped her hips so hard, surely he
must be leaving bruises.  But even as he eased his hold, her hands came down to
make him grip harder.  Each of his upward thrusts was met with the tightening
of her inner muscles.  She was wet and frantic in her need.  She was nothing
like the self-conscious women of the
ton
, so carefully calculated in
their every movement even in bed.  Edith was wild and on the cusp of coming,
which was good, since Stalford was very, very near the edge.

He reached up and squeezed a breast, and that was all it
took for Edith to come – which brought on his climax.  It was explosive, with
the contractions of her sheath milking him dry.  At long last, the pulsing
stopped and Edith collapsed on him.  He found himself stroking her back and
kissing her temple.

After a moment, a realization struck.  “Edith, you didn’t
allow me to pull out.  There’s a possibility I may have got you with child.”

Edith pulled back enough to look in his eyes.  “Before I
came here I used a sponge soaked in vinegar.  You have heard of such a thing,
haven’t you?  With as often as you rut, I should hate to think of a world
littered with Stalford bastards, bringing down the intelligence of the next
generation of milk maids and footmen.”

Without ceremony, she got off him and began putting herself
to rights, leaving him with the oddest sense of loss.

“Edith,” he said to her turned back.  “I should like to think
that any bastard of mine would rise at least to underbutler status.  But how
did you know I would kiss you and it would lead to this?”

“Because, my lord,” she said as she prepared to take her
leave.  “If you hadn’t, I would have.  I expect Lynwood here on the morrow.  Do
what you must to become affianced.”

He looked at her, at a loss for what to say.

Edith raised her chin.  “Is there something you wish to add?”

Stalford looked at the woman who was so different from the
one he’d just tumbled with.  Then he shook his head.  “Nothing, Edith.  I have
nothing to say.”

“Good,” she said.  She turned and walked away, not giving
him the chance to see the moisture that suddenly obscured her vision. 
Must
be an allergy to the damned trees
, she thought.  She’d have them cut down
straight away.

*                    *                    *

Lizzie hadn’t slept well.  She couldn’t stop thinking of
what she’d shared with Marcus at the lake.  He’d walked her back to the house,
then asked if he could spend the night in her bed.  It had taken every ounce of
courage she possessed to tell him no.  But she knew that if she shared any more
intimacies with him, she’d never be able to let him go.   And he deserved more
from life than the scandals she would bring upon him.  Now she just had to find
a way to break their engagement without letting him know the real reason.

She entered the morning room to find her troubled mind gave
her no appetite.  Of course it didn’t help matters to see the beautiful Miss
Simons delicately picking at a hard-boiled egg and dressed like the King might
drop by. 

“Good morning,” said Miss Simons as Lizzie entered the
room.  “Oh dear, you look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”

Lizzie didn’t think she looked all that wretched, but the
girl was trying to be nice.  She sat at the table, then smiled at Mansfield as
he served her coffee.

“Mansfield,” said Miss Simons.  “Do be so kind as run to the
kitchen to fetch me another egg.  This one seems to be most irregular in its
shell.”

“Of course, miss,” said Mansfield, as he bowed and left for
the kitchen.  But not at a run.

“Lady Elizabeth, I do hope you find Riverton Farms to your
liking,” said Miss Simons as she took a delicate sip of tea.  “Although I
cannot imagine your finding a single fault.  I spent many a happy day here as a
child and the grounds are exquisite.  You must enjoy the wide variety of flora. 
I can name at least three dozen distinct plants on the grounds, although I
confess to only knowing their Latin names, which must be such a bore to those
who don’t speak the language.”

“Yes, I can imagine some would find it less than
scintillating,” said Lizzie, counting herself among them.  “Did you spend a
great deal of time here?”

“Oh, yes.  Our parents were quite close, which threw Marcus
and me together ever so often.  You might say I was his only friend.  I have
certainly always had his best interests at heart.”

“In what way?”

“Well, when it came time for Marcus to choose a wife, I made
it known that I would not be interested.”  Here, Miss Simons blushed a delicate
pink.

That was certainly news to Lizzie and, she suspected, would
be a surprise to both Riverton’s and Miss Simons’s families.  “Why ever not?”

“It had nothing to do with him.  Indeed, I cannot imagine a
better husband.  In fact, it was not that I cared too little.  It was that I
cared too much.  He is destined for great things.  He always has been.  And, as
the daughter of a lowly viscount with no exalted connections, I was hardly the
sort of wife he should choose.  He needed a wife of higher rank, such as
yourself.”

“Surely Riverton would place little emphasis on social
position.”

“But he has, obviously,” said Miss Simons, then put her hand
over her mouth and blushed a bit more when she realized her
faux pas
. 
“That is, I’m sure he holds you in the highest esteem and is most
certainly….intrigued by those treatises you go about penning.  But in my case,
I was concerned by how others might perceive it if he married only a viscount’s
daughter.  It’s no secret that his peers in the House of Lords have high
expectations for him.  I should hate to be the one to bring him low.  And here
is Mansfield with my new egg.  How wonderful.”

“Yes, it’s delightful,” said Lizzie as she thought the
matter over.  Perhaps the answer to her problem with Riverton was seated at the
table, wearing an ethereal shade of pink and tapping at an egg as if it were an
incendiary device.  Miss Simons had, after all, been Marcus’s only friend.  A
friend he hadn’t thought to tell Lizzie about the previous evening.  Perhaps a
match between them would be just the thing.

Because Miss Simons wasn’t the only one to love him too much
to stand in his way.

*                    *                    *

Lady Riverton had decreed the day would be perfect for a
picnic by the lake.  The Earl of Stalford had then added the rather scandalous
suggestion that those who wished to go swimming should do so.  The very last
place Lizzie wanted to go was back to the lake, but at her aunt’s prodding she
had very little recourse other than to accept an old sea bathing costume of
Edith’s – which was several sizes too big – and accompany everyone to the lake.