Page 25 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Five

Eve’s heart leapt into a furious rhythm. The hidey-hole was wide enough to accommodate Lord Rushton’s broad shoulders, and long enough for them to squeeze in together. Nothing more. Eve inhaled a breath, then stopped at his hiss of breath.

“Miss Crenshaw, I will ask you not to move,” he whispered.

Her pulse skipped a bit. “I-I do not hear anything. Maybe they did not come into the room.” Please, God, she prayed. But the moment the prayer passed from her lips, a woman squealed on the other side of the panel.

Eve gasped. Lord Rushton clamped a hand over her mouth. He bent slightly and she felt warm breath wash over her temple as he whispered, “Careful.”

She nodded—as much in a fervent plea for him to quit touching her as to indicate her understanding. His hand dropped away. A male voice murmured something in the room and Eve wanted to cry. Someone had chosen this room for an illicit interlude. How long would they stay? If she and Lord Rushton were caught, her father would personally escort them to Gretna Green for a quick marriage. But almost worse than that, the heat that radiated off Lord Rushton threatened to melt her on the spot.

The tension in her back was working its way up her shoulders. She shifted. He seized her hips. She jerked and banged her elbow against the wall. He cursed softly. Her heart hammered harder. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t an untried maiden. What she and Blane had done was far worse than being squeezed into a hiding place the size of a rabbit hole. So why did being wedged in with Lord Rushton have her ready to jump out of her skin? The man’s muffled voice was followed by a woman’s moan.

Eve became suddenly aware of the steely bulge pressing against her belly. Her legs weakened and she felt her knees give way. Lord Rushton jammed an arm behind her and caught her by her buttocks. Eve squeaked and batted at his shoulder. He gave her a shake. She understood the rebuke and buried her face in his chest. The thump of his powerful heart against her chest made her head spin all the faster and she seriously feared she would swoon.

His free arm slid around her shoulders and he stroked her back. Her heartbeat slowed. Despite the pressure of his fingers gripping her buttocks, her panic lowered to a simmer. Then she became aware of his chin resting on her head. The hand beneath her derriere slid upward over the curve of her buttocks in what she almost swore was a caress. A shiver ran up her back. Eve drew in a stuttered breath, and released it when his embrace relaxed. The woman moaned louder and Lord Rushton’s arms tensed. Another moan followed. The man said something indistinguishable.

“More,” came the woman’s hoarse plea.

Eve swallowed against a dry throat. The bulge digging into her stomach seemed to thicken. Was that possible? A grunt sounded from the room. The man? Eve fisted Lord Rushton’s lapel. Her stomach tightened and an ache began to thrum between her legs. The woman grunted—or had it been the man? Eve’s breath quickened, but it seemed Lord Rushton had become a statue. Then he shifted. Eve instinctually lifted her head. Her head brushed his jaw.

Soft female cries filtered into the hidey hole. Lord Rushton moved and Eve realized he was looking down at her. She became aware of a tiny displacement of air near her face, then his lips nuzzled her temple. A languid shiver slid down her spine. He pressed his warm lips against her cheek and she realized he was going to kiss her. As the thought formed, his mouth covered hers.

Eve’s head swam. She was vaguely aware of the woman’s murmured pleas. Lord Rushton touched his tongue to her lips. Eve gave a small gasp of surprise and his tongue slid inside. His hand skimmed down the curve of her buttocks, then his long fingers cupped her bottom again as he flicked his tongue against her tongue. The rhythm was strange…erotic, and she was startled by the thought of his hips thrusting against hers in tandem with his tongue.

He moved his mouth on hers and she couldn’t repress a tentative thrust of her tongue against his. His fingers squeezed her buttocks and she jerked, digging his member deeper into her flesh. He groaned, the sound deep and masculine. Heat coiled in Eve’s stomach and radiated downward. Lord Rushton’s grasp on her derrière tightened as he undulated his hips and rubbed his rod against her.

It hadn’t been like this with Blane. He had made her feel cared for, feminine, but he hadn’t lit a fire that centered—Eve pushed at Lord Rushton’s chest. His mouth froze on hers. Her heart thrummed in unison with the beat that had taken up residence at the intimate point between her thighs. She had to stop, had to think…

Lord Rushton drew back. Eve collapsed against his chest, and he once again rested his chin on her head. They stood, unmoving, until his heartbeat slowed and Eve became aware of the silence in the room beyond. Had the couple departed? She leaned away from the earl and he straightened. She lifted on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his jaw. He shuddered and she froze. Holy God, she couldn’t reach his ear.

“Are they gone?” she whispered.

For a moment he didn’t move and Eve thought perhaps he was listening, but then she realized she was still pressed against his erection. She shifted her hips so that her stomach didn’t touch him. He made an indistinguishable sound, but before Eve could interpret it, he leaned toward the door and a soft click followed, then the panel sprung open. He didn’t move and she knew he was listening this time. He scooted toward the panel and slowly peered around the edge of the door. After a few seconds, he stepped from the secret place and reached to pull her out.

The coals had burned down significantly, but enough light remained for them to maneuver their way to the door. Eve waited while he checked the hallway, then he grasped her hand and didn’t bother to close the door, but strode down the corridor back toward the ballroom. Thankfully, they didn’t encounter anyone and, when they passed the refreshments room, Lord Rushton immediately turned back and led her inside.

He didn’t ask, but placed her in a chair and left her to go to the refreshment’s table. As he picked up two glasses at the table, a woman sidled up alongside him and brushed her hip against his. Eve stared. Good Lord, had the woman actually rubbed against him? He didn’t react, and for an instant Eve thought she was mistaken. Then he turned and said something to the woman Eve couldn’t hear. The woman’s gaze cut to Eve and her cheeks flushed. She yanked her eyes back to him, chin high, and replied. The woman spoke so low, Eve waged no one could hear her, but the flash of anger in her eyes made plain the set down she intended to serve up.

Lord Rushton’s brows shot up in amusement and the woman’s hand balled into a fist at her side. Lord Adkins neared them and she jerked her gaze onto him. She broke into a sudden dazzling smile, and Eve realized it was a ploy to distract him from her flash of anger. Lord Adkins fell straight into her trap and bowed over her hand with a flourish. Her eyes caught on Eve, narrowed, then shifted back onto Lord Adkins as he straightened.

“She looks as if she would like to scratch his eyes out, does she not?”

Eve started at the female voice beside her and swung her gaze onto Lady Dorothy Benson. “I beg your pardon?”

Lady Benson sat on the chair beside hers. “No need to pretend you didn’t see her little tantrum.” Her gaze shifted in the direction of the group. “Louisa does not respond well when a man rebuffs her.”

“I do not know her,” Eve said.

“It is no loss.” She paused, then added, “He is a fine specimen of masculinity.” Lady Benson looked at her. “And you are to marry him.”

Eve stiffened. This was the one thing she had hoped to avoid tonight: direct confrontation with one of Lord Rushton’s lovers. Eve glanced at Lord Rushton, but his attention remained on Lord Adkins.

“You have no cause to be jealous,” Lady Benson said.

“I am not jealous,” Eve blurted.

Amusement danced in her eyes, but she said in an amiable tone, “You are wise.”