The Marriage Lesson (26 page)

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Authors: Victoria Alexander

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: The Marriage Lesson
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Chapter 17

. . . that Leopard is indeed as cunning and clever as his namesake. He is, as well, charming and exciting and far too enticing. I am drawn toward him like a leaf in a current. There is something in his nature that is both frightening and irresistible.

He is not the kind of man one considers for a match and perhaps that is the strength of his appeal. Still, if I am not to wed, then would it be so wrong to taste the forbidden fruits he offers?

As for Lord W, in spite of my efforts, he is always in my thoughts. And in my dreams . . . 

 

The Absolutely True Adventures of a Country Miss in London

Marianne plucked the note from its perch in the branches of the round boxwood maze and smiled. What kind of adventure did Thomas have in mind now?

After the Ride, she’d returned to her room, bathed and napped, to awaken to find a note slipped under
her door. It was unsigned, but there was no question as to who it was from. Who but Thomas would couch an invitation in such poetic terms? At least
treasure
and
pleasure
rhymed.

“Thomas?” she called, unfolding the note. It contained nothing more than the drawing of an arrow. Obviously, she was to enter the maze. The adventure had begun.

She drew a deep breath and stepped inside. To her right was a solid hedge wall. She turned to the left and followed the greenery to a bend to the right and back to the left. Again there was no choice. She continued through the tall leafy passageway and her confidence built. The maze wasn’t nearly as difficult as Thomas had said. Why, she doubted she’d run across even one body. She ignored an entry leading deeper into the structure and continued forward until the corridor ended at a wall.

She swiveled and retraced her steps, this time taking the entry she’d passed before. She stepped through the next opening, this, too, leading deeper into the maze. Perhaps that was the secret? Simply take whatever route led toward the heart of the puzzle.

She drew a deep breath and continued, rather more cautiously than before. It was a bit unnerving, this not knowing where she was headed. Worse, at the moment, she had no idea how to get out. She hit a wall with walkways branching out in either direction and paused.

“Thomas?”

No answer. What if he wasn’t here? If she hadn’t gotten his note in time? If he’d waited for her and decided she wasn’t coming? The idea of someone lost
forever in the high, leafy passages did not seem so far-fetched after all.

She took the turn to the right, then stopped and went back to the left. A few feet from the entry, an ivory ribbon lay in the center of the path, leading farther into the maze.

She laughed with relief and picked it up. She followed it around one curve, then the next, gathering the ribbon in her hand as she went. The rounded walkways grew tighter until she reached a point where the ribbon was tied in a halfhearted bow on an iron gate.

She pushed it open, stepped cautiously into the center of the maze and gasped with delight.

It was indeed a room of sorts, with high boxwood walls and the sky above for a ceiling. Wide benches were evenly spaced around the perimeter. In the middle was a small, wrought-iron, linen-covered table and two chairs. She stepped closer. A vase with freshly cut flowers sat beside an open bottle of champagne and two filled glasses. It was a setting straight from a romantic tale.

A tale of seduction.

The gate clanked shut behind her and she spun around.

Thomas leaned against the gate, a wicked grin on his face. “I thought you’d never get here.”

“And now that I am?” Delicious anticipation washed through her.

“Welcome to adventure.” He was casually dressed in a soft linen shirt, open at the throat, and well-worn breeches. He looked like she imagined a pirate or a highwayman would appear, right down to the gleam in his eye.

“What if I do not wish to partake of the particular kind of adventure you have in store?”

“You will.” He turned the key in the lock on the gate. “Besides, I have no intention of letting you go until you agree to marry me.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. “Come, now, Thomas, I cannot—”

Before she could say another word, he pulled her into his arms. His lips met hers and she reveled in his embrace, familiar desire rising up within her. He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her again and again until she thought she’d swoon from sheer pleasure.

“Say you’ll marry me,” he whispered against her lips.

Say you love me.
“Never,” she murmured.

“Very well.” Without warning he released her and moved to the table. “Then would you care for some champagne?”

For a moment she could only stare. Frustration gripped her and she struggled to catch her breath. “Why on earth did you stop?”

“I was thirsty.” He grinned, waved away a bee hovering over the champagne, picked up a glass and held it out to her.

“You are annoying.” It wasn’t enough that his merest touch drove her mad with need. No, now he wanted to play some silly game under the guise of adventure. Well, she wasn’t in the mood to play.

She snatched the goblet from him. The champagne sloshed onto her hand. She ignored it and drained the wine. “Now—” she set the glass back on the table with a firm smack—“I wish to leave.”

“Why?” He sipped thoughtfully. “You’ve just arrived.”

“I find this adventure is not to my liking.” Abruptly she realized the idea of adventure of any kind was growing weary.

“But it has only just begun.”

“Fine.” She huffed a defeated breath. He refilled her glass. She picked it up and took a healthy swallow. She liked champagne nearly as much as she liked brandy. “What do you have in mind?”

“First, I’m going to relieve you of that dress.”

“Oh?”

“There is nothing quite like the unconfined feel of being completely undressed out-of-doors.” He took another drink and set his glass on the table. “Of making love beneath the heavens.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on a nearby bench.

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Wait and see.” He circled the table to stand behind her, then ran his fingers lightly up and down her arms. “Surprise, my dear Marianne, is the very essence of adventure.”

He reached in front of her and deftly removed her spectacles, tossing them lightly onto a chair. He lifted her hand to his mouth and licked the dried champagne. She shivered, all annoyance vanishing with his touch. Perhaps she was in the mood to play after all.

He kissed the back of her neck, trailing his lips to the edge of her gown, then fumbled with the tapes of her dress. It loosened about her.

“Thomas, what if someone happens upon us here?”

He nudged the sleeves down and bared her shoulders. “No one will.” He pushed her gown and the shift
beneath it lower, and she freed her arms from the sleeves. “Those who take part in the Ride typically spend the hours afterwards recovering in their rooms. Besides, even should someone manage to make their way to the center, the gate is now locked from within and the hedges nicely muffle any voices, making recognition nearly impossible.”

A lovely illicit feeling shivered through her. She leaned back against him and closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body behind her. “Are you sure?”

His hands skimmed down her sides, gown and shift falling to a puddle at her feet, leaving her clad only in stockings and shoes. “Almost positive.”

He was right about being unclothed out-of-doors. Surrounded by the hedges, with only the vast blue sky overhead and the cool air teasing her skin, she’d never felt as free and unfettered, like a woodland sprite dancing in the fields. Of course, she wasn’t quite dancing. Yet.

“The danger of discovery, Marianne—it’s part and parcel of adventure.”

His hands trailed over her stomach and pulled her to mold against him. She could feel his arousal, solid and hot, through his breeches, pressing against her backside. His hands moved upward to cup her breasts and she raised her arm to drape it across his neck. His fingers teased her nipples and they hardened beneath his skillful touch. Her breath grew ragged.

“Do you know what I’m doing now?” His lips whispered against her skin.

“I dearly hope so.” The words were little more than a sigh.

He nuzzled the curve between neck and shoulder,
then gently pushed her head forward to taste the base of her neck. His hands slipped to her sides and his mouth trailed lower, sliding down her spine in a slow, sensuous journey. She held her breath in an agony of waiting.

She heard him drop to his knees. He kissed the small of her back and his hands danced down her hips and her legs to the tops of her stockings, then around and, slowly, agonizingly slowly, crept upward. She arched her back and folded her arms over her head and stared up at the sky. She was moist with wanting and waiting and couldn’t so much as breathe.

His hands reached the curls between her thighs and his fingers parted her flesh.

“Thomas.” She shuddered, wondering if indeed she would die with yearning.

His fingers grazed over her and she gasped with the exquisite sensation. His lips caressed her backside and his fingers slipped inside her and out in an ever increasing rhythm and she moaned with the pleasure of it.

Abruptly, he stopped and stood up, quickly turning her around to face him. Impatiently, he swept champagne, glasses and flowers from the tabletop.

“Thomas, what are you—”

“Quiet.” His voice was harsh with desire. He met her lips with his and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He picked her up and set her on the edge of the table, spreading her legs on either side of him, and lowered her backward until she was lying on the white linen. Like a sacrificial offering to the sky above. Or a feast for the gods of the heavens. Or for a man.

Thomas’s lips trailed down her neck to the valley between her breasts. He suckled one, then the next. Her hands grabbed at the linen on the table. His mouth moved lower and caressed the flat of her stomach, and lower still. She tensed with apprehension. Or anticipation.

He pushed her legs wider and dipped his head between them and she stilled.

“Thomas?”

“Do you want to know what I’m doing now?” he growled softly.

“I don’t think so.”

A moment later, she didn’t care. He teased and toyed with lips and teeth and tongue, and delight cascaded through her body. Her world narrowed. She existed only in the feel of his mouth on her. In the throbbing pleasure coursing through her. In the ever-tightening spiral of tension within.

She clutched at his shoulders and without warning her body exploded beneath him in a glorious burst of sheer sensation. Her back arched and she jerked and uttered a short scream.

At once he stood and shucked off his breeches.

She panted for breath. “Thomas, you’ve never . . .  that is, I never . . .  I mean . . . ”

“I love it when you sputter.”

He pulled her upright to balance on the edge of the table and wrapped her legs around him. He cupped her buttocks, pulled her tight against him and entered her in one swift, easy thrust. He filled her and she pushed against him, needing him deeper and deeper within her. They moved together faster and faster and the wrought-iron table rocked beneath them. Once
more, delirious anticipation built inside her. Growing, yearning toward release.

Until at last, when she thought she could know no greater joy, no greater delirium, her body again erupted in release. He clamped his mouth over hers and she screamed into it and felt his own release throb through her. His groan echoed deep in her throat.

She buried her head in his chest and clung to him for a long moment. Finally, he lowered her back to lie on the table, braced one hand on either side of her and grinned down at her. She gazed up at him with a satisfied smile and traced a line down the center of his chest.

“That was most intriguing, Thomas. You’ve never done that before.”

“I was saving it.” He laughed. Then abruptly his eyes widened. He yelped and jerked back. “Yow!”

She propped herself up on her elbows. “Whatever is the matter now?”

“Bloody hell, I’ve been stung!” He twisted and turned trying to see over his shoulder.

“Stung?” She sat up. “You mean by a bee?”

“No, by a blasted hawk,” he snapped. “Of course by a bee.”

“Let me see.”

“I will not,” he said, his level of indignation far more appropriate to a man in formal attire than one completely naked.

“Come, now, Thomas.” She stifled a grin. “Turn around.”

“Very well.” He huffed and presented his backside to her. She’d never seen it in such excellent light before and she couldn’t help but admire the firm, well-
shaped buttocks. Not unlike the marble statues at the British Museum. Of course, they weren’t marred by a large, red welt.

“Oh dear.” She prodded the edge of the reddened area gently and he sucked in a sharp breath. She winced in sympathy. “Sorry. It does look rather nasty.”

“It feels rather nasty.”

“Still, it doesn’t seem to be swelling abnormally. All you need is a good poultice . . . ” She slid off the table and looked around for her clothes.

“Oh?” He turned and raised a brow suggestively. “And just who is going to apply it?”

She picked up her dress and shook her shift free. “I’m certain your valet—”

“If I had a wife,” he said pointedly.

“If you had a wife, she would probably be a nice, proper woman who would never agree to an adventure like this. Therefore you would not be in this position in the first place and would never have a bee sting on your bottom.” She pulled her shift on over her head.

“What are you doing?” He frowned.

“I’m getting dressed.” She slipped into her gown, turned her back to him and lifted her hair off her neck. “Would you help me?”

“I most certainly will not.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Why not?”

“The adventure isn’t over.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back against him. She relaxed in the warmth of his embrace. “I have no intention of letting something as minor as a bee sting deter me and no intention of allowing you to leave.”

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