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When she reached down to feel the hard length of him through his breeches, Alessandro groaned. Encouraged, Mélisande began to unbutton his flap. As soon as he was free, she grasped him firmly, chuckling wickedly at his grunt of pleasure as she ran her hand up and down his smooth cock.
He again claimed her lips, freeing his hands to quickly gather up the skirts of her gown. Backing up until he bumped against the edge of the settee, he then sat, pulling her down to straddle him. Reaching between them, he stroked and played until the flesh was dewed. Then, at his silent urging, she lifted so that he could guide himself to her slick entrance.
Eagerly, she sank down, uttering a low moan into his mouth at the pleasant ache and sudden tightness as his thick, hot shaft filled her.
Shifting his hands to her waist, Alessandro slowly raised her up.
When she slid back down, the sweetness of it was incomparable. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Mélisande rode him slowly, feeling the bowstring grow taut within her. Tighter and tighter it wound, until it snapped in an explosion of bliss.
He swallowed her outcry as she peaked. A few more thrusts of her hips, and she felt his release shudder through him. Falling back against the cushions, he pulled her down with him to rest against his shoulder.
It was only a moment before the reality of the situation flooded Mélisande’s awareness.
The servant might return to see if they needed more tea.
Charlotte sometimes forgot to knock.
That door could open at any moment.
“Alessandro, we cannot be seen!” she hissed, jerking upright.
Separating hurriedly, they worked to right their appearances and ensure there was no visible evidence of their lovemaking.
Mélisande’s hands shook as she straightened her skirts. It was impossible for her to look at this man and not desire him. Her lack of self-discipline was frightening. Even now, knowing the risk, she wanted to be back in his arms. It dawned on her as she marked his steady hands and relaxed manner that this little interlude was nothing more to him than a mere reenactment of something he’d done countless times. What’s more, he had nothing to lose.
Whereas I...
If they were caught, she knew he would simply return to Italy. But she would be publicly disgraced. Should she ever decide she wanted to marry, it would be almost impossible to do so after such a scandal, even with her fortune. Certainly, no respectable gentleman would ever consider it.
She could not simply defy convention and take a series of lovers, either. Men, though they claimed otherwise, were just as bad as her fellow sex when it came to gossip, boasting of their conquests among their peers. She’d overheard plenty of ribald jests and references made to the betting book at White’s.
Women with a reputation were a curiosity, too. People loved to speculate about them and ferret out the juicy details of their lives. There were plenty of those, if one knew where to look. Everyone knew her mother was French, and her affaire with Louis was no secret in Versailles.
Isabelle Compton’s life prior to her marriage was not a topic Mélisande wished discussed.
She should end this now and tell him that tonight would be their last night together. But even as she thought the words, she knew she could not speak them.
I need an excuse, something to help me distance myself. Anything, any—
A light knock sounded at the door, and they both started.
A pair of curious grey-blue eyes peeked through the opening. “I thought I heard voices in the hall earlier,” said Charlotte with a sunny smile. “David mentioned yesterday that he might come for tea this afternoon.” The excitement faded from her eyes as she realized he was not in the room.
Mélisande noted she was rather artfully en deshabillé. Earlier that morning, she’d been dressed impeccably; now, however, several errant curls strayed about her face, her lips were very red—likely from the stain of some berry, and the bosom of her bodice had been laced far too tightly, pushing her breasts up high for display.
Clearly, it was time for a chat.
Taking a seat, Charlotte helped herself to tea and began talking about the nuptial plans.
After a few moments, Mélisande ceased to pay attention, her thoughts instead slipping back in time. Blushing, she glanced at Alessandro, only to discover him staring back at her. One corner of his mouth lifted a fraction, and she knew he must be thinking the same thing.
“Melly?”
Her attention shifted back to Charlotte. Embarrassed to be caught without a response to whatever it was she’d been asked, she stammered an apology. “I’m afraid I must have been woolgathering. What was it you wanted to know?”
Charlotte’s blue eyes sparkled with merriment. “I asked your opinion regarding the use of autumn leaves and berries for decorations. Winifred suggested it when I told her about your wedding plans.”
“Ah. Well,” replied Mélisande, her chest constricting at the thought of this ceremony that would never happen. “I suppose it would be easy enough to gather leaves and such, and I’m sure it would look quite charming. It’ll be a simple affair, in any case.”
