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He slid one of his hands down, dragging her dress and crinkling petticoats up as he stroked along her stocking-clad leg past her garter. He then wrapped his fingers around her bare thigh. The need that tore through him was a savage, demanding, relentless ache. His palm found the inside of her thigh, stroked, caressed, as he savored the feeling of her softness.
James fiercely reminded himself she had been through hell, a genteel lady who’d come to him for protection and he would not take advantage of her innocent sensuality. Not when enough men in her life had disappointed her.
She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I have never felt anything as beautiful as when you kissed me.”
The softly whispered words cut through his heart and left him bleeding, vulnerable, and he did not like the need and uncertainty pouring through him. It felt like everything had change.
“Verity, I—”
With a choked sob of need, she thrust her fingers through his hair, lifting his face to her as she lowered hers to meet his lips. Her fists knotted in his hair, on his shoulders, at the small of his back as she became the ravisher and he the seduced. James fell under her spell, willingly, and it was he who became enslaved to the driving demands of her kisses which bespoke innocence and a wild, burgeoning passion.
A girl of less strength of character might have succumbed to seduction, burning in wild passion, without thoughts of consequences. But not his Verity. Another choked sob came from her and she shimmied off his lap to sit beside him. He braced for her to jump from the chaise and perhaps call him every deserving name in the book—a wicked seducer, a despoiler of innocents, a disgraceful libertine. She did neither, and an emotion he would never be able to quantify rose in his chest like a storm when she leaned to the side and rested her head against his shoulder.
“Will this brief moment of madness ruin our friendship?” she murmured huskily.
And somewhere inside he hurt, though he could not explain it in full. How happy he would have been if she had demanded that he paid a visit to her brother and did the honorable thing. For he would marry her…in a heartbeat. Would she resent him if he took the choice from her and called upon her brother?
A brief moment of madness. If he respected her and the choices she wanted to make for her life, he would have to chalk up their soul-shattering kisses to a moment of madness and nothing more. It was clear that was what she wanted. His stomach twisted in tight, painful knots. “Nothing could ruin our friendship.” It is too precious. “We must simply ensure this…madness does not happen again.”
She made no reply and he did not require one from her. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before he stood. Without question she followed him as he led her outside and into the carriage. Verity did not question it when he hauled himself inside the coach and sat on the squabs opposite to her. James escorted her home, and they did so in silence. And when the coachman opened the carriage door and assisted her down, he watched as she disappeared into the safe haven of her home.
It was early yet, just midnight, perhaps he could visit the club or even White’s. Yet James did neither. He went home, climbed into his bed, and dreamt of Lady Verity.
Three days had passed since Verity had been seared with desire, her world upended, her expectations of passion shattered and reshaped, by a kiss. She had not been able to stop thinking about the feel and taste of Lord Maschelly’s mouth upon hers. For the dozenth time, she pressed trembling fingers to her lips and closed her eyes. She could still feel him there, a ghos
t determined to haunt her with wicked memories of passion and possibilities. Even when the marquess had kissed her before he had revealed himself a vile brute, she had never felt anything beyond mild frustration and annoyance for she had not found pleasure in his embrace.
Not so with James. There had only been desire. And most distressing of all…I want you to kiss me again. Did that make her a wanton…a tart? It had been a similar recklessness which had caused her to trust a blackguard and he had attacked her. What if—?
No! Something fierce and unexpected welled inside of Verity. I shall not blame myself for his vile actions anymore. And the earl would never force himself on her. The man had honor, and a kindness that was unmatched in anyone she knew.
But what did it mean that she wanted to kiss him again, perhaps even do more?
She sucked in a sharp breath, do more? Oh, I am being a silly, silly miss!
The door to the earl’s townhouse opened unexpectedly, and the butler stared down at her with a baffled frown on his face. Verity blushed for she had been standing outside for at least five minutes, lost in thoughts and indecision. The butler possibly had been aware she stood outside, dreading seeing the earl after their encounter. Verity felt vexed she was already blushing and she had not seen James as yet. It was a pity she could not retain her veil for the duration of today’s lesson.
“My lady, please come inside.”
She took a steady breath and stepped inside.
“May I take your coat my lady?”
With a nod, she unbuttoned her pelisse and handed it to Fenton.
“The ballroom has been prepared, if you will come this way, my lady.”
She hesitated. “And is the earl in the ballroom?”
“No, milady. He is in the library. I will inform him you have arrived after I’ve escorted you.”
“Thank you, Fenton,” she said with a smile. “I will inform the earl I’ve arrived. Please do not trouble yourself.” Verity could never abide waiting whenever she was overly anxious.
At the library, she knocked once, then opened the door and proceeded inside. James stood by the fireplace, dressed as a distinguished gentleman. Even the cravat seemed perfectly tied. He held a drink in his hand, and his face held an air of serious contemplation.
“A shilling for your thoughts, my lord,” she said, trying to ignore the flutter of heat low in her stomach.
He leveled his regard on her. “You are wearing a dress.”
