you mean to invite her to your home, so that you might play a duet?’ she teased.
‘More likely I would be inclined to bend her over the stool for her impudence, and love her until she was more agreeable.’ His voice was husky, and he pulled her close, kissing her hard until his anger began to dissipate.
She opened her mouth, and let him convince her, marvelling at how little effort it took him to arouse her. A word or two, a kiss, a touch. And she wanted to be his. She pulled away, slow, almost drowsy, and murmured back at him. ‘You presume too much, my lord. Do you think you can force all women to submit to your every wish?’
‘Not all women,’ he whispered back. ‘Just you. Because you do not want chaste duets in the drawing room any more than I want to play a pianoforte. We are physical creatures, you and I. Not made to sit tamely to the side while the rest of the world dances.’
Emily had never thought of herself in that way before. But it was true. She was happier walking his land, visiting cottages and farms, meeting the stock and the people than she would have been sitting with her needlework in the drawing room, waiting for her husband to favour her with a visit. And when he talked to her, rough and low as he was doing now, she felt like a sybarite. The things he suggested made her flush with eagerness and not embarrassment. Instead, she focused her mind on more innocent pursuits. ‘If there is music, you would rather dance than play, my lord?’
He considered. ‘I have never tried. There has been scant little music in my life, these last few years.’ He swept her into his arms as though he heard a waltz and spun her once, bumping her into a chair.
She felt him hesitate, gripped his hand tighter and said, ‘A moment, please.’ Then she released him, righted the furniture and pulled him into the doorway of the salon. ‘Now try again.’
He began more slowly this time, and they took a few steps without incident. ‘I will lead,’ he said, ‘but you must guide me.’ He turned her again.
They were nearing a table now. ‘Left. No. Right.’ The turning had confused her for a moment, and they moved past it, rocking the china ornaments upon it, but not breaking them. ‘Now straight back for a bit. And turn again, another right. And there is a circuit of the room.’
He gave her a final flourish and her silk skirts sighed about her legs, and then settled.
Adrian nodded, as though satisfied with their success, and then dismissed it as unimportant. ‘Of course, there is no orchestra to keep the beat. And we did not have to navigate a room full of people.’
‘Dancers with all their sight cannot manage as well as you have done. It seems I cannot escape a rout without crushed toes and bumped elbows. And I am sure you would find a dance, with lines and patterns, to be easier. A drunken idiot can manage the Sir Roger de Coverley.’
‘Thank you for your confidence in me,’ he murmured sarcastically. ‘But dancing in a crowded room would not be quite so pleasant as holding my partner close like this when we are alone.’ He had her now, in his arms, swaying as though he still heard a tune. But they were far too close to be waltzing, their bodies rubbing together until she could feel them both becoming aroused.
‘I do not think what we are doing now can be called dancing,’ she said a little breathlessly, brushing her breasts against the front of his coat and feeling the roughness of the net bodice against her nipples.
‘What would you call it, then?’ he asked. His hands bunched in her skirt, pressing their hips together, but his lips brushed lightly against hers.
‘I think you are trying to seduce me again.’
One of his hands found the pocket slit in the side of her skirt, and reached inside to press his palm against the bare skin of her leg. ‘Am I likely to be successful?’
She rubbed her cheek against his. ‘I think you might be.’ She swayed against him, letting him urge her closer, slipping one of her legs between his and drawing her foot up the inside of his calf. He caught her leg between his, tightening his muscles, and she felt the now-familiar rush of feeling, knowing he was close to her, knowing what would come next between them.
She rubbed herself against him with a little moan, and he pushed her back against the edge of a desk, getting some distance between their bodies to put a hand down the loose bodice of her gown. ‘You are a most welcoming woman, my dear. Bare under your dress again tonight. I think, if I had a mind to, you would let me take you here.’
‘Yes,’ she said with a groan, thinking how wonderful it would be if he would lose control.
‘I could just hoist up your skirt …’
‘Yes …’ He was kissing her, short sharp bites on her lips, down her throat.
‘Undo a few buttons …’
‘Yes …’ One hand, tight upon her breast, the other in her skirt, squeezing her leg.
‘And I could be inside of you, before anyone was the wiser.’ He was holding her body a tantalising inch from his. And she pressed herself down onto his thigh.
‘Show me,’ she whispered back and pushed her hands between the buttons of his vest, searching to touch skin and not clothing.
‘Wait.’ He laughed. ‘Wait. There is time. We do not need to rush. Let me take you into the bedroom.’
But if they took their time, he would be careful. And while it would be wonderful, it would not be what she truly wanted. ‘No. Here, now. Quickly.’ She kissed him, deep and wet, pushing her tongue into his mouth, sucking his back into hers.
And for a moment, he stopped resisting her and pulled her hips forwards, wrapping a hand around them to lock her sex to his, grinding against her through their clothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself onto her toes, making it easier to join with him.
Then he pulled his lips from hers and gave a shaky sigh. ‘No, my sweet. Let us go lie down and treat each other properly.’
‘And suppose I do not wish you to be proper?’ she said. ‘Suppose I wish you to be rough with me, and finish with me quickly and carelessly, in a public room, because you cannot stand to wait?’ She ran her leg up between his thighs until she could feel his manhood and pressed hard against it, rubbing her knee against him until he groaned.
Then he unwrapped her arms from his body, trying to part them. ‘You do not understand,’ he said. ‘It is not that you do not tempt me.’
‘Then give me what I want,’ she demanded and lifted her own skirt to bare herself, pressing her naked sex against the front of his trousers, so close to him that she wanted to weep with frustration.
Without thinking, he swore and his mouth covered hers again, and his hand fumbled to open his trousers, pushing the cloth away until they were skin to skin. He parted from her, just enough to mutter, ‘Lean back, just a bit.’ And now he was resting between her legs, rubbing himself gently against her and peppering her lips with desperate little kisses. ‘Just for a moment. Just a taste of you. I will be careful. I promise.’
She smiled, trembling, waiting for the delicious shock of sensation that would soon come. ‘You do not have to be careful with me. Never with me. I am yours, Adrian. I love you.’
And then
