A Dangerous Love (28 page)

“Wait a minute!” Rosalind wrenched her arm from Griff’s hold and moved closer to Daniel. “I believe I have some say in this matter, and I’m not staying anywhere with you alone, Griff Brennan.”

Brennan? Well, that was one consolation—Daniel hadn’t told her about the masquerade. It would have sorely ruined Griff’s own plans for breaking the truth to her. “I only want to talk to you, Rosalind.”

Daniel fixed his penetrating gaze on Griff. “To talk, is it? Are you going to tell her then?”

Griff knew what he was asking. He gave a terse nod.

“You don’t want me—”

“No,” he said sharply.

“Very well.” Daniel stared down into Rosalind’s face with a tender look that tore through Griff’s gut. “Stay here, m’lady, and hear the man out. It’s important.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Yes, you do.” He patted Rosalind’s hand, then added, “It’ll be all right, I promise. A woman’s got three parts, too, you know, though hers are made up differently. Just make sure you use all of yours when you listen to what the man has to say.”

She raised an eyebrow. “All of them? I believe there’s one I’d best keep firmly in check.”

“Weeell…” He bent down, whispered some
thing in her ear that made her blush violently, then tipped his hat and strolled off, laughing.

That blush sorely rankled. “What did he say?” Griff bit out as soon as Daniel was out of earshot.

With a coy toss of her pretty head, she glided to the swing and resumed her seat on it. “It’s private. Surely you don’t expect to know everything that goes on between me and my fiancé merely because you work for the man.”

Me and my fiancé
. Must the woman try so hard to drive him mad? Much more of this, and he’d be acting exactly as she’d criticized him for two nights ago.

How could he not when she looked so damnably fetching in that gown? Her color of choice today was a vibrant citrine orange that made him think of brightly wrapped candies only found in sweets stores. He wanted to unwrap it and suck it until it melted…in his mouth, his hands, his…

He bit back another curse. He had to stop thinking with his cock, or he’d never get through this discussion without ravishing her.

As if she knew the dangerous direction of his thoughts, she blithely walked her swing back in preparation for launching it. But before she could do so, he stepped in front and grabbed the ropes on either side to prevent her.

“Get out of my way, Griff,” she ordered with that imperious lift of her chin that always enchanted him.

“First, tell me what Dan—…what Knighton whispered to you. And while you’re at it, what was all that nonsense about parts?” She blushed again. Under any other circumstances, he would have found it intoxicating. Now it merely fueled his reckless temper. “Well?”

“I thought
you
were supposed to be telling
me
things.”

“I am. I will.” He released the ropes of the swing,
but only to grab her around the waist and lift her fully onto it. The motion parted her legs just enough to allow him to press forward between them, pushing her and the swing back and up. Now she was trapped on it with her legs straddling his waist and her face at his eye level. “First I want to know what Knighton said to you. Tell me what he whispered to make you blush.”

She let go of the ropes to push him, but quickly grabbed them again when she began losing her balance. “Blast it, Griff, let me down!”

“Not until you tell me what he said.”

“Why should I?”

She glared at him, and instantly the line from
Much Ado about Nothing
, “Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,” came to mind. By God, Shakespeare would have written ten more plays if he’d ever met
this
Rosalind.

He shook the swing a little. “Haven’t you ever heard that it’s impolite to talk about someone behind his back?”

“It’s also impolite to spy on a person, but that didn’t stop you.” A gloating smile turned up her vixen’s mouth. “Though I do think you saw more than you wanted.”

“Tease me, will you?” He pushed her higher. “Do you think that’s wise, considering where I’ve got you? You forget that your gentleman fiancé has left you out here alone with me. And your teasing has roused more than my temper.”

He was looking up at her, but with her breasts at eye level, he couldn’t stop himself from bringing his gaze down to where the two halves of her robin-front gown met at a point low enough to reveal a generous amount of bosom beneath the lace fichu.

“I know what you’re thinking, you scoundrel, and I shall not let you—”

He buried his face in that sweet hollow, pressing an openmouthed kiss to her skin through the lace.

“Stop that…” she protested, then groaned when he reached for the fancy ribbon used to hold the gown closed in front.

He’d meant only to demonstrate that he had the upper hand, so to speak. He hadn’t come here to seduce her; he’d come to present the truth logically and then convince her to marry him.

But faced with temptations too potent to ignore—their solitary location, the encroaching of dusk, and most of all, her luscious body trapped in his arms—he abandoned all reason and prudence. Only desire remained.

Feeling it pound in his head, his blood, his cock, he untied the ribbon, then unpinned her fichu and tossed it to the ground.

“Griff, don’t…blast you…” she sputtered as he peeled open her bodice. He made short work of her chemise ribbons and had her chemise open and her breasts bared to his hungry gaze in the space of seconds. Her hands left the ropes to stop him, but he grabbed them and closed them back in place, holding them still.

Her breath came fast and hard, almost as fast and hard as his. He nuzzled one breast, drinking in her rosewater scent, relishing the soft, smooth skin fairly begging him to lavish caresses all over it. Then he kissed her delicious female flesh.

“You bloody—” She broke off with a gasp as he took the plump nipple in his mouth. “Oh…don’t…dear God…ohhhhh, Griff…”

He sucked it fervently, laving the hard nub, teasing it with his teeth until she uttered a low, intoxicating sigh. He released one of her hands to caress her other breast, but she didn’t let go of the swing. If
anything, she pressed the weight of her breasts into his avid mouth and fingers.

“Yes, my sweet, yes,” he murmured against her nipple. He wanted her willing, hot, and eager, the way he knew she could be, and by God he’d stay here all evening pleasuring her if that’s what it took.

Though he doubted he’d last that long. Pleasuring her was already driving him insane. He needed to be inside her, to make her his. That way she could never refuse him, could she?

Yes, he thought as he sucked at each of her pebbled nipples in turn, that was his new plan. Make her his, forever.

Her skirts were already hitched up because of her straddling him, but he shoved them up further, then slid his hands beneath them and up along her hose, past her garters to the strips of smooth thigh at the top. No drawers. By God, the woman never wore drawers, and as always that made him frantic with need. He prayed she never adopted the new fashion, though it would mean him walking around in a perpetual state of arousal at the thought of her always bare and open beneath her skirts.

“Griff…I’ll…I’ll tell you…” she choked out. “I’ll tell you what…Mr. Knighton…said…”

“I don’t care what he said anymore.” He found her darling cleft and fondled it with his thumb. She made some aching sound of pleasure low in her throat that sent lust thundering through his veins.

Slowly he rubbed the slick skin, then slid a finger inside her. By God, she was wet for him already, wet and hot and so damned tight. All he had to do was lower her a little to have her right there open and waiting for his cock.

Through the thick jumble of thoughts crying,
need to be…inside her…now
, he reminded himself she was a virgin. She required coaxing.

“Hold on, darling,” he muttered. He pushed forward, lifting the swing higher until he could hook her legs over his shoulders. Shoving her skirts up past her thighs, he caught his breath at the sight of her so sweetly displayed. He had to taste her. Oh, God, he had to taste her.

Rosalind didn’t know whether to be shocked or thrilled when he put his head between her thighs. Though her bottom was still braced against the upheld swing and her legs on his shoulders further secured her to him, she felt decidedly off-balance floating five feet off the ground.

Then his mouth kissed her
there
, and her insides went off-balance, too.

She’d never imagined such a debauchery. Its very outrageousness roused her, titillated her…delighted her. Especially once he used his tongue. Sweet Lord in heaven, this was too good not to be the worst sin in the world.

“Griff, you…should not—”

His answer was to drive his tongue deep inside her as he’d done with his finger. Dear God, what was this…how could he…oh, yes…yes…

She grew insensible of anything but the thrust of his tongue inside her. It lit up her insides, ignited them into flame. Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes and let the wild fury build in her as it had before in his bedchamber, her senses acutely aware of his every motion, her thighs gripping his head, her body feeling as if it floated around him while his tongue teased and taunted and made her insane.

Oh, dear God—this was why people warned virgins that these naughty things were wrong and sinful and bad. If they didn’t, there’d scarce be a virgin over sixteen left in England.

She wanted to release the swing and clutch him tighter, but feared it would overbalance them both.
And the last thing she wanted right now was to make him stop. No, he mustn’t stop…Sin or no, she wanted to have…this…

Abruptly he
did
stop, and only after she’d opened her eyes did she realize she’d released the swing to clutch his head and the board was sliding out from under her bottom. He caught her as her legs slid off his shoulders. Locking his heated gaze with hers, he let her body slip down him with aching slowness.

A smile gilded his face. “I think we’d best move to the blanket. I doubt either of us is limber enough to make love on the swing. Besides, I want to touch and kiss every inch of you. I want you naked.”

Sanity began to penetrate her dazed senses. “Oh, but we can’t—”

“Please, Rosalind.” His smile vanished, replaced by a look of such haunting longing it made her shiver. “Let me make love to you, my darling. I need to make love to you. I need you. Goddamn it, I…”

He trailed off, and she remembered what Mr. Knighton had said about Griff not being able to speak the needs of his heart. But if Griff said he needed her, said he wanted to make
love
, surely that implied some deep feeling. After all, the first time he’d threatened to seduce her, he’d spoken of bedding her.

She glanced around the clearing, still well lit, though the sun had fallen behind the trees. “But here? Where anyone could—”

“If I could get you to my bedchamber without getting caught, I would, but I’m taking no chances. They’re less likely to discover us here than there. And if someone does stumble upon us, it’ll merely ensure that you marry me sooner rather than later. Because you are going to marry me, you know.”

His confident smile made her want to clout him. “You, sir, are entirely too sure of your—”

He stopped up her mouth with the first kiss he’d
given her on the lips in two days, and dear God, what a kiss. Sweet, aching, possessive…the way any decent kiss should be. It rapidly became more, however. His hands roamed her body with the proprietary confidence of a lover, tearing off her bonnet, shaking pins from her hair, sliding down her neck to shove her gown off her shoulders.

Then he had his hands inside her open chemise and was kneading her breasts and thumbing her nipples into hard, aching knots. She couldn’t muster an ounce of protest. All thoughts of defying him scattered into the dusky evening sky with his every caress.

For two days, she’d wanted this, and yes, needed it, needed him. She didn’t know why this curst man, of all men, made her feel whole, but he did. He spoke to the wildness in her that chafed under so many restraints. He understood her as no one ever had. And he cared for her. He might not say it, but he did. She was sure of it.

If he hadn’t already asked her to marry him, she might resist his seductions out of fear for the future, but he
had
asked her and he
did
want her. At the moment, that was all the reassurance she needed.

Still kissing her with lavish excess, he scooped her up and carried her the few feet to where the blanket was spread on the earth. He set her down on it without breaking the kiss, as if fearing she might change her mind.

But she was beyond changing her mind. And when he began stripping off her gown, she started at once on his waistcoat buttons. He froze and stopped kissing her, but only in order to undress her more quickly. When she jerked at his coat lapels, he shrugged the coat off and then the waistcoat she’d unbuttoned. The rest of his clothes and his boots swiftly followed, leaving him wearing noth
ing but drawers full to bursting with his hardened flesh.

She scarcely had time to notice, however, before he ran his hands down her corset and said thickly, “Turn around, my sweet.”

She obeyed with some trepidation—not at the thought of his taking off all her clothes, though.
That
gave her a treacherous thrill. But he’d never seen her without her corset, and she wasn’t exactly…well…trim. He mightn’t want her quite so much if he saw her abundant figure totally bared.

Her heart pounded as he worked at loosening her corset laces. Out here in the open, she felt painfully exposed, though the trees formed a welcoming shield and the time of the day—dinnertime—virtually ensured that no one would be outside on the estate. She wished the sun had already set, however. Then he couldn’t see her quite so well.

By the time he’d peeled the hated corset off her and tossed it aside, she’d braced herself for his disappointment. He dragged her chemise over her head and let it float to the ground. Her stockings and boots were last to go, leaving her totally naked, still with her back to him.