yess…” She put her hands on his hips and pulled him closer still. “When…ohh…when…will…we…”
“Hmm?” He moved to lave the other nipple. She arched back, giving him more room to explore, pressing her hips even tighter against his.
“Don’t…stop.” Her hands pressed into his buttocks. She twisted against him. Could he bring her to satisfaction just by fondling her breasts? It was a challenge he was happy to undertake.
“Robbie…what are you doing?”
The last word came out in a squeal.
“Shh.” He had never felt so powerful, so alive. “Not so loud. We don’t want to attract attention.” Thankfully, Felicity must have moved on. If she heard them, found them…well, if he wasn’t more careful, Lizzie was going to find herself chained to him for life.
“I don’t mind.”
“Hmm? What don’t you mind?”
“I don’t mind if we attract attention.”
“Lizzie, sweetheart…the scandal.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes glowing. “There won’t be a scandal, Robbie.”
“There won’t?” She must be more drunk with lust than she’d been with ratafia the night before. Her face was flushed, her hair was coming out of its pins, and her breasts…her breasts were completely, beautifully exposed. He traced a circle around one nipple and watched it pucker in response. “You look rather scandalous to me.”
She rubbed against him. “I feel very scandalous.” She ran her hands up his waistcoat. He watched her pink tongue moisten her lips and bent to capture that tongue again.
She giggled and pulled back before his mouth touched hers. “There won’t be any scandal because we’re betrothed.”
He felt the blood drain from his face. He felt limp—everywhere. He couldn’t wed Lizzie. She was passionate. She would want children. She would not want a useless excuse for a man.
Despair, all too familiar, choked him.
“Aren’t we betrothed?”
He hated seeing that lost look in her eyes, but he would hate more the disgust and pity he would see on their wedding night when he had to admit he was incapable of consummating their union.
He tried to smile, tried to sound blasé.
“I’m sorry—did I propose?”
The sting of her hand hitting his cheek actually felt good.
Chapter Four
She hated him.
Lizzie strode up the path to the house. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She was afraid she would do both if anyone spoke to her.
“You don’t look happy.”
It was Meg.
“I’m not.”
“What happened?”
Lizzie shrugged and kept moving. It was quite impossible to get any words past the huge lump in her throat.
Meg fell into step beside her. “Did you see Robbie?”
Lizzie nodded.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. She most definitely did not want to talk about it. She lengthened her stride.
Unfortunately, Meg lengthened hers as well.
“Surely he proposed?”
“Gaa.”
“He didn’t? How could he not have?”
Excellent question. How could he not have? He should never have taken such liberties with her person if he were not going to offer for her immediately. Ha! Immediately? He should have offered for and married her before he touched her in such a way. He had had his hands on…Her breasts throbbed in memory. Her breasts and…She flushed and bit her lip. She would not think about the other part of her that throbbed.
And it was not just his hands! His mouth. His tongue.
She swallowed a moan. Oh, lud—she would go mad. She was so angry. That was it. Anger was making her stomach feel so peculiar. Achy. Shivery.
She was so angry she was panting.
She had to get to her room.
“Are you all right, Lizzie?”
“I…I really need…to be alone, Meg.”
“Oh, Lizzie.”
The sympathy in Meg’s voice stabbed through her.
She would not cry. Not now. Felicity, Charlotte—anyone could see her. She would not give them the satisfaction of witnessing her distress.
She walked even faster.
Meg must have decided she needed solitude, because by the time she reached her room, she was alone. She shuddered with relief as she shut her door—and then she shuddered into tears.
What had happened in the shrubbery?
She ran her hands up over her stomach to her breasts. She wanted to strip off her clothes and touch her own skin. Something was definitely wrong with her. It was not only anger that pulsed deep inside her. It was something else, something dark and bewildering.
What had Robbie done to her? His kisses had caused this problem. Each touch of his lips, of his hands, had wound something inside her tighter and tighter like a spring, until…until what? She didn’t know.
She really did feel like screaming.
If she had only waited, if she had kept her tongue between her teeth—she shivered—between his teeth—she felt certain he would have done something, taken her to some point of release, and she wouldn’t feel so…upset.
She went to the window and leaned her forehead against the glass. She looked out over Lord Tynweith’s estate, but she saw only the shaded bower.
Why hadn’t he offered for her? Certainly Lady Bea had expected him to do so. What would the older woman say when Lizzie had to tell her she was not betrothed?
Dear God, she had thrown herself at the man, literally. Well, technically she’d tripped, but that made no difference. A proper lady would have pushed herself away the moment her person encountered a hard, muscled male form.
Very hard. Very muscled. Very male.
He had felt so good. And when he’d wrapped his arms around her, she had felt as if she had come home.
She drew
