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A tremor shook him as she did so. Remotely, she registered an uncomfortable lump against her belly, but chose to ignore it in favor of the sensations running riot through her. A dull ache had begun to throb down low, accompanied by a strange sense of emptiness. It was like hunger, only more acute and infinitely more difficult to assuage.
Obeying her body’s demands, her hands rose from where she braced them on his chest to draw his head down and deepen the contact between them at every point possible. Her breath caught as her breasts were crushed against the hardness of his chest, as something that wasn’t quite pain streaked down to settle in the secret place between her legs. She wriggled, stretching upward and resettling herself against the hard lump below.
With an agonized groan, he molded her body against his own and buried his face in the curve of her neck.
All the air in her lungs seemed to vanish. Head spinning, she closed her eyes and steadied herself for a moment, clinging to him in shuddering stillness, never wanting it to end.
It wasn’t enough.
“I consent,” the words tumbled out. Clutching his hair, she reunited their lips again, giving back in full measure what she’d taken. Nothing mattered but this, this heady rush of pleasure. “I consent,” she again whispered against his mouth.
She felt him smile just before he gently pulled back. “You will have no regrets, Eden,” he murmured.
Already she was regretting having let him up for air.
“I’ll speak with your father tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? “Should we not—” His hand massaged the small of her back, turning the flesh there molten. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to concentrate. “Should we not go on as we are for a little while longer, at least?”
“I see no point in delaying the inevitable.” The desire in his dark eyes held her prisoner. “To do so would only invite trouble. Eden, though you may not know it, what we have just now experienced is not very common.”
She knew it—this was not her first kiss. One had been barely tolerable. The other had elicited overwhelming revulsion. None but his had caused this madness of want.
“This kind of desire only grows more potent with time,” he said with surety. “An official courtship will protect you from harmful gossip.”
He was right. If anyone caught them in a compromising situation—like the one she was in at the moment, standing here in his arms no doubt looking thoroughly ravished—she’d be well and truly ruined. No amount of denial or claims of innocence would avail her. Courtship was a shield against being labeled a woman of loose morals.
“Very well. I’ll prepare him as best I can.” Papa would be shocked at how quickly it had happened. Shyness overtook her, and she suddenly couldn’t bear to meet Tavistoke’s gaze. “We had better rejoin the others.”
Her thoughts raced as they made their way back to the orchard gate. Panic warred with triumph. What had possessed her to allow him to take such liberties? To enter into an understanding with a man she hardly knew? A man she’d suspected only moments before of being
in love with another woman?
A naughty little voice inside whispered he’d denied being in love with Lady Montgomery. She wanted to believe him. That little voice also whispered she was as guilty of giving in to desire as any hedonistic wanton.
Lust. That was what had swayed her in the end.
Every beat of her heart was echoed by a corresponding throb between her legs, where everything felt swollen and damp. Her breasts ached in such a way as to make her acutely aware of them. In fact, her entire body seemed painfully awake. Never before had she been in such a state. It both fascinated and frightened her.
As for the man who’d elicited this turbulent reaction, she knew only that she wanted him to do it again. But propriety dictated she never indulge in such thoughts and especially not act upon them.
One step and I could be in his arms again…
Even in her inexperience, Eden knew she’d be unable to stop the natural progression from kissing to…whatever it was unmarried people did to bring about a scandal. She had to resist. If she were to give in to the sinful urgings of her body, he would think her a light-skirts and lose interest.
Part of an old rhyme she’d heard in the powder room during her debut Season popped into her thoughts:
Down the primrose path doth trip the lightly winged feet
Of maids and ladies of morals loose whose favor cads do treat
Who with their lovers bold do dare to taste forbidden fruit
Without the shield and virtue of an earnest gentleman’s suit
Eden barely refrained from bursting into giggles. Never had the primrose path tempted her until today! Fortunately for her, her “bold lover” seemed determined to walk the straight and narrow. Her gaze slid over him. She was to be courted, truly courted, by none other than the infamous Lord Percival Falloure, Marquess of Tavistoke—The Terror of the Ton. Percy.
Logic quashed her giddy joy. Wait until he proves himself by speaking with Papa.
