Page 86 of The Dangerous Lord

Now, that he’d intended to be seductive. She mustn’t let the conversation wander in that direction. “If I’d had time,” she said, trying to sound irritated, “I could have had one made that was more fashionable. But you were in such a dratted hurry to have your bargain sealed.” She blurted out the words, frantic to say something, anything, that might anger him enough to drop her hand.

Apparently, that wasn’t it, for his grip on her merely shifted so that his thumb could stroke across her wrist. She could feel the sensuous touch even through her gloves. “I compromised you, remember? We had to move swiftly to preserve your reputation.”

“Yes, and to gain possession of any heir you’d sired. You paid quite dearly for that heir of yours.”

That didn’t work either. As if he knew why she goaded him, he chuckled, then released her hand, but only to draw off his gloves with slow movements that turned her insides to mush.

She swallowed and added, “Well, you may find you got the worst of the bargain.”

He tossed the gloves aside. “How so?”

“Papa’s debts are rather substantial, my brothers are likely to eat you into the poor house, and I myself may decide it’s time to indulge my taste for luxuries heretofore inaccessible to me.”

With a laugh, he settled back against the padded seat and took her gloved hands in his. He turned one over and lifted it to press a kiss into her curving palm. “You may indulge yourself to your heart’s content, querida. When you and your father’s trustee discussed the terms of the marriage settlement yesterday, I’m sure he told you of the generous allowance I’m providing you and your brothers.”

“Yes.” In truth, she had more “pin money” per annum than she could spend in a lifetime. Lifting her face to his, she grumbled, “I don’t see how you can possibly get your money’s worth out of me.”

She cursed her unthinking tongue when desire flared in his gaze. “It would have been a bargain at thrice the price,” he said, his voice thick with need.

Oh, no. She knew what that look meant, knew what it signaled. Yet like a fool she stared transfixed as he bent his head with infinite slowness toward her. By the time his mouth covered hers, warm, firm, and scented with wine, she ached for it. The knowledge that he was her husband now, that this was not only accepted, but expected, further eroded her will, softening her, making her relent so gradually she didn’t recognize it as relenting until too late.

He took his time, leisurely partaking of her mouth, first with softly caressing lips and then with tender strokes of his tongue. But when she lifted her hands to cup his cheeks, he hauled her onto his lap so he could plunder her mouth in earnest. The kiss was no longer tender or gentle. It was the explosion of all his hunger and hers, mouths seeking pleasure with unashamed enthusiasm.

One of his hands slid her gown and petticoats up her legs until they cleared the tops of her garters. Then he was finding the aching place between her legs and sliding his thumb inside the slit in her drawers to tease the soft flesh into a hard little kernel. She shifted half-consciously to allow him better access, and he took full advantage of it, slipping a finger deep inside her slick passage. He stroked her with such boldness, it wrung a shocked gasp from her that he swallowed with his kiss.

It felt so wanton to indulge in these caresses when only a curtain and a sheet of glass separated them from the rest of London. That thought in itself excited her beyond reason. And she wasn’t the only one excited. His arousal swelled beneath her bottom as surely as her own arousal throbbed between her thighs.

She wouldn’t even have noticed the carriage halting if he hadn’t abruptly stopped kissing and caressing her. Even after he drew back, her head still spun giddily.

Then he gazed down at her, and his mouth—his teasing, wicked mouth—curved into a smile. “I’ll have my heir by Martinmas next,” he reminded her in a whisper. “Or sooner.”

As the reminder sank in and his eyes gleamed with triumph, all her pleasure vanished. Drat him, drat him, drat him! He already had her sitting on his lap like some tart with his hand up her skirts! How could she have let him win so easily?

“Let go of me,” she whispered, unable to think of any witty rejoinder to hide her mortification.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He had the audacity to thumb her tight little nodule of flesh again.

She yanked his hand out from beneath her skirts. “Yes. We’re here. It’s time to go inside.”

“We could head straight on to Chesterley—it’s a good two-hour drive, plenty of time for ... private enjoyments. I’m perfectly willing to forego Sara’s breakfast⁠—”

“Well, I’m not,” she snapped, wriggling from his lap. “I’ve had nothing to eat since dawn, and I must have sustenance, my lord.”

“I can give you sustenance, querida,” he whispered as she reached for the door.

Frantic to be free of him, she shoved it open. “Man doth not live by bed alone,” she quipped before stepping nimbly from the carriage without waiting for him to hand her out. “Nor doth woman.”

He grinned as he followed her out. “Very well. I can wait until later.”

“There will be no ‘later,’” she murmured as much to him as to herself. “Next time, I’ll be better prepared.”

Then refusing the arm he offered, she hurried up the entrance steps, her anger increasing when she glanced back to see him tugging on his gloves. The gloves he’d deliberately removed so he could fondle her. He’d done that on purpose, drat him, to prove he could seduce her whenever he liked. Ooh, she should have expected that from him. He saw her refusal to bed him as a challenge, and Ian never backed down from a challenge.

Well, he was in for a surprise. This time he’d made her angry enough to resist him. Let him try that little seduction again later. He would not like the result.

Ian congratulated himself as he regarded his new bride’s stiff back from behind. It had been ridiculously easy to prove she couldn’t resist her own passions. He probably shouldn’t have taunted her there at the end, but how could he not gloat when she’d turned to pure butter in his hands a mere hour after promising to forbid him her bed.

His little hypocrite, that’s what she was. And he would enjoy peeling away her hypocrisy when he peeled her gown from her later.