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She looked once more to the floor. Her heart drummed madly, but this was hardly the place to do anything untoward.
“You’ve made an awful mess.”
“He shall be well compensated for the inconvenience.”
Rockwell pulled her to her feet. Though dampness had already begun to form between her thighs, she attempted to put some distance between their bodies and glanced once more at the door, but he did not appear bothered in the least by the setting for his amorous advances.
“Will you not wait until we have arrived at the Chateau, your lordship?” she pleaded in hushed tones as she kept an ear for the sound of footsteps approaching.
“No,” he growled as he leaned in to her. “And you’ve no wish to either.”
She felt her entire body flush. “You are mistaken. This is a most inappropriate place to...”
He circled an arm around her waist. “Miss Herwood, there is nothing appropriate about anything we do.”
His mouth seared where her neck and collar joined. She knew instantly she would lose the battle. Desire flared in her groin. As he kissed her neck, her back arched into him.
She made one final attempt. Was it not shameful that she should give into him so easily?
“The servants will wonder that we are taking so long.”
“Let them wonder,” he replied as he worked his lips and tongue against the soft spot beneath her ear.
The sensation reverberated to her extremities. He lifted her onto the table as he continued his assault about her neck. She moaned. When his mouth finally covered hers, the defeat of her reservations was complete. She allowed herself to succumb to the full weight of his kiss, glorying in the masterful way his tongue danced with hers. Her body reacted as intensely as it had a year ago, perhaps more. Desire, hot and strong, coursed through her veins. She retu
rned his heady kiss, drinking in the heat and wetness of his mouth as if it were her last.
His hand pressed against the small of her back, and she could feel his desire long and hard against her hip. With his other hand, he caressed the whole of her back. Despite her layers of clothing, she marveled at his touch. There was not a part of her body that did not revel in the way he manhandled her. She kept her own motions to a minimum, sure that they would only feel awkward and inexpert compared to his.
He pushed her down and covered her body with his.
“Ah!” she cried when his tongue grazed her inner ear.
She froze at the sound of her own voice. Good heavens, the innkeeper or the servants might have heard.
“We ought to wait...”she began, feeling sheepish.
“Hush.”
With his knee, he urged her legs apart. His hand reached for her skirts.
She stayed his hand and said between heavy breaths, “I’ve not the nerve.”
She could not trust herself to be quiet. Not with the havoc he could wreak upon her.
Sitting back on his haunches, he contemplated her quandary, then began unloosening his cravat.
Distressed that he was choosing to ignore her, she sat up and said more forcefully, “They will hear.”
“Shhh,” he hushed as if calming a babe. “Open your mouth.”
As her impulse was to comply at his direction, she did. He fitted the linen between her lips and wound the fabric around her head thrice before tying the ends behind her. Her heart pounded between her ears. She had never been gagged before, and though she trusted him, the thought of not being able to speak or cry for help was alarming. How was she to tell him to stop? Bad enough the innkeeper might come upon them in a compromising state, but what would the man make of the cravat tied round her mouth?
He must have read the panic in her eyes, for he said, “There will be no need for the safety word. Do you recall what it was?”
She nodded.
He ran a finger along the edge of the linen above her lower lip. “You are quite fetching in my cravat, Miss Herwood.”
