jaw dropped. The bear was not a bear at all, but a very large woman. A very large, very enceinte, very naked woman doing some very odd things with her bushy fingers.
Tynweith’s gardener was clearly demented. Well, Tynweith had an odd kick to his gallop as well. Why Lady Beatrice accepted this house party invitation was beyond him.
Felicity was headed his way. He felt a sudden affinity for Odysseus, forced to sail between Scylla and Charybdis. Well, it was clear who the six-headed monster was. And really, he’d be happy to be sucked into a certain whirlpool.
He left the shelter of the obscene bear woman.
“Lizzie.” He kept his voice low. Felicity probably had preternatural hearing. “Walk with me, will you?” He grabbed her elbow and tried to hustle her away from disaster.
“Robbie!” She smiled widely up at him. “Have you been looking for me?”
“Uh…” He smiled back, thinking quickly. Clearly the answer was supposed to be yes. She would not be happy to hear the truth—that he had wanted to sneak past her. “Actually, I didn’t expect to find you here. Didn’t Tynweith discourage you ladies from exploring this garden?”
She shrugged. “I suppose he did. I got a bit lost and wandered in the wrong direction, I guess. But I found you.” She grinned.
God, she was beautiful, especially when she was practically glowing up at him like this. But he couldn’t stand here admiring her. Felicity would find them in a moment. True, Lizzie’s presence would put paid to any compromising plans Felicity might harbor, but he didn’t care to spend any time in that she-devil’s company.
“Yes. Well. Tynweith was correct. This is not an appropriate place for you. Come along.”
Lizzie didn’t move.
“This is a very odd garden. Can you tell me what this topiary is designed to depict? I’ve been studying it for the last five minutes and I cannot puzzle it out.”
“Oh, for—” They were running out of time. He could almost feel Felicity breathing down his neck. He looked at the bush. “It’s a dog.”
“Well, yes, I discerned that. But what’s it doing? What’s that part there?”
“That? That’s, uh, that’s…” Bloody hell! “That’s not something you should be looking at. Now come along.” He tugged on her elbow again, and this time she came with him, though she kept looking back at the lascivious vegetation.
“Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Shh. Felicity is just on the other side of that hedge.”
“Not anymore.”
“Blast!” Sure enough, Felicity was back by the pregnant bear creature. She was looking the other way—perhaps she had not seen them yet. There was a slight break in the foliage just up ahead. “Hurry.”
Robbie dragged Lizzie through a gap in the hedge. She tripped on a root, and he caught her against his chest, holding her tightly and turning so her dress would not draw Felicity’s attention to their hiding place.
They were in a small bower with just enough room for two people to stand close together. Very close together.
Robbie breathed in Lizzie’s light, lemony scent mixed with sunlight and vegetation. Her body was so soft against his. Her breasts. Her thighs. His hands smoothed over her bottom, pulling her toward him. He wanted her close. His palms moved up her sides, slid to her back.
Her arms were now wrapped tightly around his waist, and—God!—her fingers were tracing the curve of his buttocks. Then they slid up under his coat.
He was panting.
“Lizzie.” He put his mouth close to her ear—he couldn’t risk Felicity hearing him, could he? He brushed his face against her hair, sweet and silky. It would be a sin not to taste her throat, he was so close.
She tasted of sun and salt. Soft and feminine.
Lord, did she purr? She tilted her head, giving him room to kiss the spot behind her ear.
Was she panting also?
“Lizzie…”
“Mmm?”
Christ, her lips…they grazed his chin, his cheek, and then her mouth found his.
He was going to die. His head, his heart, his groin were going to explode.
Her lips were so soft. They welcomed him, promising heaven—and he was a dying man, desperate for salvation. He ran his tongue along their seam. She whimpered, opening for him.
He had known Lizzie forever. He had loved her as long. But he had lusted for her only since her come out and never quite like this. This was a mistake, a terrible mistake. He was starting something he could never finish; promising things he could not give.
It made no difference. He could no more stop his plunge into her warm, wet mouth than he could stop breathing.
Actually, he could stop breathing.
But he could not stop kissing Lizzie. Felicity could have marched into this private bower with Lady Beatrice and all the ton—even James, Lizzie’s brother—and he would not have, could not have stopped. She tasted of life, of hope, of all that he wanted and could not have.
His lips left hers and moved down her throat. He loosened the neck of her gown.
“When,” she breathed as he ran his tongue into the crease between her breasts.
“When will…ohh.” She made a breathy little noise as his fingers skimmed over her skin and dipped down to free her breast from her corset.
“When will we…”
His mouth found her nipple. She shuddered.
“Oh, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He grunted. He was incapable of any more coherent response. He flicked her nipple with his tongue, and then had to cover her mouth with his when she squeaked.
God, this was heaven—or as close to heaven as he could ever hope to get. He wanted her naked. He wanted his hands, his mouth, on her from her throat to her ankles. He wanted to see her, to taste every inch of her.
His mouth found the pulse at the base of her throat.
“R-Robbie.”
She was moaning. Good. Could he make her squeak again? He touched her nipple and heard her breath catch.
He could.
“R-Robbie…when…Oh. Oh, do that again.”
She pressed closer. Her belly cradled his hardness. She rubbed against him. Heaven. If only…no, he wouldn’t spoil things by pining for what couldn’t be. He would enjoy the present moment.
It was a very good, a splendid moment.
