Imagine what he could reach from there. With his hands…his lips…his tongue.
He brought his arm up and her heart panged. He held two books.
She sighed, refusing to consider whether relief or disappointment prompted her heavy exhale.
William seemed oblivious to her agitation and wild thoughts as he rested the books on his raised thigh.
“I come bearing gifts. I hope these shall help reinstate me in your good graces…?” His gaze beseeched her, all puppy cuteness.
She shifted her gaze to the books, avoiding his pleading look. Staring at them, she didn’t see the titles at first. Instead, her brain rioted. Books had been favorite and frequent gifts between her and Charles. William’s ability to hone in on her preferences so quickly once again astonished her. Were the books to gratify her? Or did he hope for ties or other discipline for his intrusion? Then an insidious thought.
DoIwish these to please me, or…?
He drew the lower one out—it was more of a handbound pamphlet—and held them side by side. “Have you read either of these?”
His question drew her away from her musings of reward versus punishment. She tilted her head and read the titles.The Canterbury Taleswas bound in leather, and the pamphlet wasThe Heroides(Epistulae Heroidum). She had heard of Ovid, but not that work. One of her salon friends, who was more a Bluestocking than she was, had raved aboutThe Canterbury Tales, but she had not read either.
Shaking her head, she looked up at him. “No, William, I haven’t. I should love to borrow either one, if I may?”
“Absolutely not, Mistress. These are for you to keep. As I said, gifts.” He pushed them toward her.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t…” She trailed off. Ladies did not accept expensive books from men who were courting, much less younger men they barely knew whom they were trying to discourage. Yet she wanted these desperately. Stroking the gold heart once, she struggled to resist, as she’d never thought to find another man who would give gifts tailored for the intellectual pursuits she loved.
He turned his head to one side then the other, making a show of scanning the garden.
She glanced around, trying to see what he was searching for.
“What society does not know will not hurt society,” he said with a grin, laying them on the bench next to her, his arm brushing her skirted leg.
She sucked in a small breath, and he turned from the books to look at her, his face suddenly quite close. She licked dry lips, and his gaze followed the movement, heat flaring in his eyes.
Moving slowly, he pulled his arm away from the bench and books, trailing the back of it along her leg. Her nostrils flared as she sucked air, feeling unexpectedly lightheaded.
His eyelids lowered.
“Now, I shall ask again, Mistress. How else can I make up for my uninvited visit?”
Chapter Nine
William watched her intently, starting to recognize her subtle signs of arousal. He had never cared to learn those about a woman before.
Girls were available and willing, even eager, if he was interested, but his few early encounters had not excited him enough for him to pursue further trysts. He’d had a crush on a house mother once, but she was happily married, and he was rational enough even at fifteen to realize that it was in large part a combination of teenage lust and missing his mother. He had beaten it out of himself with his hand wrapped around his cock as many times as he could get away with in a group home. As had most of the boys, for that matter.
But this creature, this goddess, was a real, full-formed woman whom he could talk to and touch, and he was no longer a lad. He and Charlotte shared a number of interests, from reading everything they could to investing to running complex households and holdings. Their conversations were far more engaging than those with the half-formed simpering misses at balls. He had no idea how he’d find time around his responsibilities and his return to university after Michaelmas, but he yearned to get to know her better. Beyond that, he was wildly attracted to her like no one before, and wanted to learn everything she could teach him in the bedroom.
Now he watched her reaction to his signature question, noting her accelerated breathing, her wide eyes. Dropping his hand to his side, he inched his back knee closer and placed the other on the ground beside it to sit back on his haunches. His fingers rested close to her slipper, and he slid them over to play along the top of her foot.
Gasping, she straightened, her back arching a bit, drawing his gaze to the smooth mounds pushing at the scooped neckline of her periwinkle floral-patterned dress.
Her nipples poked through. They had not been like that when he first entered the garden. “Are you chilled, Mistress?”
“No.”
Hmm. He brought up his favorite memory: her spread on the bed. Her nipples had been hard little points then too, making him suspect ’twas excitement rather than cold. He could work with that, especially as she had not yet dismissed him as he’d feared.
He grew bolder, snaking his fingers around her ankle below her skirt. She arched further, which had the added benefit of pushing her breasts at him, whether she was aware of the action or not.
“Mistress…” His voice rumbled out of him, full of gravel. He checked the windows of her home, glad she faced away from them. He would not want to embarrass her in front of her staff. If he had thought about it, he would guess she chose it for the angle of the sun, but he was beyond rational thought. He could only wait on her next move.
