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She was then going to marry that duke.
She couldn’t really believe either. It was like something out of a dream. The fact that it was another clear, moonlit night added to the surreal quality of what she was doing as they crossed a smooth, silvered lawn to a path which plunged them into the darkness of a shrubbery.
This path was wide enough that the branches didn’t snag at her hair or her clothes, the way they’d done when he’d led her to the house. Though she was still in almost as much turmoil. That time she’d been worried someone might catch them and accuse them of trespassing. Again. This time she just felt...downright naughty. As well as slightly stunned that she was actually doing this. She wasn’t the kind of girl who sneaked out into the night to have assignations with men. Not even men she was going to marry. Not that there had been any others. Because she’d always sworn she wouldn’t marry anyone. Or at least that was the way she had been thinking ever since Aunt Charity had started trying to matchmake for her.
She shook her head as her thoughts got into a tangle as dense as the shrubbery through which Gregory was leading her.
But it wasn’t long before the shrubbery gave way to another lawn, in the centre of which stood a low brick building with a thatched roof. It looked like a tiny one-roomed cottage.
‘The summer house,’ said Gregory, setting his hand to the door latch.
‘A very substantial summer house,’ she observed, eyeing the casement windows and the solid oak door.
‘Well, it needs to protect the ladies who wish to take the air in summer from the weather we typically get in these parts,’ he said, putting his shoulder to the door when it refused to budge. ‘Ah...’ He sighed in relief as it gave inward, scraping across the somewhat unevenly flagged floor.
She peered inside as he pushed the door wider. There was enough moonlight filtering in for her to be able to pick out a couple of upholstered chairs set under one of the windows, and a table with some straight-backed chairs under another. But what really caught her eye was a little brick arched fireplace, in a nook directly opposite the door.
They were certainly not going to be cold in here overnight. Not once she’d lit the fire, which would only take a minute or two. She found a tinderbox and candles on the mantel shelf, dry kindling in the grate, and plenty of logs in a box on the hearth.
‘You see, Prudence?’ Gregory came up behind her as she set one of the candlesticks back on the mantel after touching the flame to the kindling, and put his arms round her waist. ‘I couldn’t manage without you. Not even so far as to the summer house in my own grounds.’
‘You have servants to light your fires,’ she said, pulling his hands away so she could kneel down on the quilt which he’d spread out on the hearthrug.
‘Nobody lights my fires the way you do,’ he growled, dropping to his knees beside her.
He draped one arm round her shoulder. It slid to her waist as she leaned forward to peer into the grate and check the kindling. She tried to ignore the way he was stroking her bottom. But it wasn’t easy. The flames that licked over the twigs when the paper caught fire were no less greedy than the sensations his hands were stoking in her body. Soon she could no longer be bothered with what was going on in the grate and she knelt back on her heels, turned to him, and lifted her face hopefully.
‘Am I allowed to kiss you now, then?’ he asked. ‘Not too busy with more practical matters?’
He didn’t wait for her answer but began to nuzzle at the sensitive spot just below her ear. It sent a shiver right down her spine. A delicious shiver of longing.
‘Now, where were we...?’ he murmured, placing a kiss on her jaw.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Right about here...’ She sighed, sliding her arms round his neck and kissing him back. He caught her hard into his chest. Then they surged together, kissing and running their hands over each other as though neither could quite believe this was really happening at last.
And soon that wasn’t enough. She just had to tear his shirt from his breeches so she could get at bare skin. Which was all the encouragement he needed to start plucking at the ties at the back of her gown. He undid them with a dexterity clearly gained from frequent practice.
But she didn’t care.
‘Oh, yes,’ she panted when he tumbled her down onto the quilt. ‘Oh, God...oh, Gregory,’ she moaned as he pulled the front of her bodice down. ‘Oh, yes, push that out of the way.’ She gasped. And gasped again as he closed his mouth over her breast. She plunged her fingers into his hair once more as he sucked, and licked, and nipped at her.
