Intolerable, page 17
“I’ve been thinking about it too, and I believe it would be better if you didn’t mention me. Your father and Lucien are so against me courting you, let alone marrying you, that I fear it will cause an upset. Three years gives us time to change their minds.”
“That’s actually rather brilliant. Three years from now, my father will be delighted to accept any proposal.” She smiled then grimaced as she realized how that sounded. “Sorry, that wasn’t meant to insult you.”
“I know.” He hesitated, his features stretched taut. “It’s not that I don’t love you…” His voice faltered.
Her pulse sped as joy swelled in her chest. “I know you’re afraid and that you made a promise to your father.”
“Yes, but those are my troubles, not yours.”
She put her hand against his jaw. “Well, I don’t want anyone else, so you can either turn me away and definitely break my heart or you can agree to my plan.”
“And potentially break your heart anyway,” he whispered, the anguish in his voice tearing at her.
“You won’t. And I will spend the next three years reminding you—in every way that I can.” She stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his. “Please tell me we don’t have to stay apart. I don’t think I could bear it.”
“Neither could I.” He kissed her again, and Cassandra lost herself in his embrace for several minutes, wondering how it was that anything could feel this spectacular. Her desire for him was a heavy, welcome weight, making the most private parts of her sing with want.
Once again, he left her mouth as his lips and tongue mapped a path along her jaw and neck, down to her collarbone then to the skin just above her bodice. He cupped her breast, and she drew in a sharp breath.
“I should mention that our…connection has not gone unnoticed.”
“Your sister-in-law and Evie did catch us kissing.” He’d paused only long enough to speak and now his mouth was once again dancing rapturous attention over her flesh.
“Aside from that, Prudence has noticed the singular way in which we regard each other. She’s more observant than most, but I wonder if we should make an effort to avoid each other publicly.”
“That will be difficult. I will miss you terribly.” There was a longing in his voice as if they were already apart.
She slipped her hand to the back of his head, thrusting her fingers into his hair. “We’ll just have to find ways to spend time together that isn’t at a ball or strolling through Hyde Park. Like we are right now.”
“We should probably return to the ball,” he said with a tinge of disappointment.
She could see that he was torn. Clasping his head and neck, she dragged him down for a blazing kiss, commanding him with her lips and tongue. When she was finished, she looked up into his eyes with dark, insistent need. “I’d prefer to take advantage of this stolen moment. There’s no telling how many we’ll have in the next three years.”
“So domineering,” he said with a tsk, his eyes glittering with desire. “I like it.” He led her to a chaise that was pushed up against the wall.
Sitting down with her, he gently caressed her face. “Let me make sure I understand this plan of yours. We’re going to stop talking to each other in public?”
He reached down and found the hem of her dress. Cassandra held her breath as the fabric skimmed up her legs.
She somehow managed to answer his question. “Not entirely. Just no dancing or promenading.”
“How disappointing.” He settled her gown above her knees while he kissed behind her ear. His hand moved up along her thigh, his touch gentle and arousing as his fingertips skimmed over her bare flesh.
“No flirting, either, I suppose.” She was surprised she could still speak. Her entire body was tingling with sensation.
“That will be difficult.” He pressed against her inner thigh, silently urging her to part her legs. She opened herself as she clutched his upper arm, which was wrapped around her waist. “But if I know I can see you like this once in a while, I think I can manage. Do you want me to continue, Cassandra?”
“Yes.” She’d pleasured herself, but it had felt completely different than this. His touch was light and enticing. It was as if her body was awakening for the first time.
He kissed her as his hand reached her sex, his fingers stroking and teasing. The need inside her built, heat unfurling, beneath his relentless attention.
Clasping the back of her head, he pulled it back, his fingers tangling in her hair. He kissed down her arched neck, his teeth nipping at her flesh, making her cry out. She slapped her hand over her mouth and tried not to whimper as he slipped his finger into her sex. A desperate need exploded within her.
“God, I want to remove your gown,” he muttered against her, his tongue dipping into the crease between her breasts. “Another time, perhaps.”
His hand worked with exquisite precision, alternating between her clitoris, that most tender part, and her sheath. Every stroke and thrust drove her closer to the brink. Pleasure built until she felt as if she stood on top of the world.
He kissed up her neck, next to her ear then whispered, “Come, Cass. Do you know how to do that? Come.” He speared into her, his thumb working her outer flesh. She pitched over the pinnacle into rapturous oblivion.
As he took her hand away from her mouth, she realized she’d kept it there. Now he replaced it with his lips, kissing her as she floated back to herself from wherever she’d gone.
His hand had continued its ministrations during her orgasm, but now he withdrew, gently tugging her gown back over her legs. Then he did the most outrageous thing. He put his fingers into his mouth—the ones that had been inside her—and sucked. His gaze locked with hers, and she could not look away from his scandalous behavior.
“Ruark!”
He slipped his fingers from his mouth and grinned. “You taste divine. Next time, I’ll be more direct when I savor you.” He licked his lips, and the pulse of heat between her legs that she thought he’d satisfied roared back.
“Mayhap I’ll be the one to do the savoring,” she said with a saucy smile.
He groaned. “How am I supposed to ignore you in public when you say such things? Or when you look like you do?” He kissed her again, and she swore she could taste herself on his tongue.
Then he was gone, jumping up from the chaise, and pulling her along with him. He frowned at her head. “Your hair needs a bit of tidying. There has to be a mirror in here.” He left her to search for one.
Cassandra’s heart was just beginning to find its normal rhythm. She smoothed her hand over her skirt and a realization came to her. “You did all of that with your left hand.”
“I’m ambidextrous. Next time I’ll use my right.” He looked back at her over his shoulder and waggled his brows.
“What about you? Don’t you need release?”
“Eureka!” He picked up a small mirror then brought it to her, holding up in front of her so she could smooth her hairstyle back into place. Thankfully, it wasn’t too terrible. “And, no, I don’t need to find release.”
She glanced down and noted the hard outline of his cock. “Your body says otherwise,” she said wryly. “Can’t we fix that?”
“We’ve already been gone too long. When you go—we shouldn’t go back together—I’ll take care of it.”
“How?” She took the mirror from him and set it behind her on the chaise.
“Er, in much the same way I did for you. With my hand.”
She reached for him, her hand cupping the bulge. “With your right or left? Or will you switch? I’m afraid I am only good with my right.”
“Dear God, Cassandra, you’re going to kill me. Please go,” he croaked.
“Are you sure?” She rubbed her palm against him, and his hips pitched forward.
“Yes,” he said tightly. “You need to get back.”
“I’ll go, but first you have to tell me what you’re going to do. You’d better be quick.”
“Fine. I’ll take my cock out.”
“Don’t you have to unbutton your fall first? You’re skipping steps, Ruark.” She began to loosen his buttons.
“Cassandra. You have to go. I am skipping steps because this is driving me to madness.”
She stood on her toes and kissed his jaw. “Tell me.”
“I’ll unbutton my fall, slip my cock from my smallclothes, and then I’ll stroke it. From base to tip. Over and over, moving faster as my need grew.”
“Just as you did with me.” She licked his neck then gently bit his earlobe. “I wish you’d let me help.”
“My God. You are intolerable. In the very best way. Yes, please, take it out.” He sucked in a breath. “It’s not as if this will take long,” he muttered.
She already had him unbuttoned—and had removed her gloves in the process—and it was easy to slide his cock free. She looked down, marveling at the rigid flesh cradled in her palm. “How firmly should I hold it?” she asked softly.
He put his hand over hers and showed her. “Now move. Hurry.”
Placing her other hand on his hip, she began to stroke him, slowly at first as she learned the shape and feel of him.
“Take some moisture from the end,” he ground out, his hips moving as she brought her hand to the tip.
Shockingly, there was wetness. Not much, but enough for her to dampen her fingers.
“Smooth that over the skin. It will help you—” He gasped for she was already doing it and had returned to caressing him. “Glide,” he finished before letting out a deep groan. “Faster, please.”
“Are you close?” she asked, loving the sensation of having the power to give him pleasure.
“Yes. Faster.”
She focused everything on him, moving her hand with rapid, fevered strokes. He tensed in her hand, and he pushed her away.
“I’m going to—” He turned from her and finished what she’d started as liquid spurted from him.
Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a handkerchief which she hurriedly wrapped around his sex. He took it from her with a grateful grimace. “Thank you,” he bit out.
She pivoted, giving him some privacy while he tidied up. “Men are much messier, aren’t they?”
He laughed. “In all things.”
“I tend to agree.”
“Cassandra, that was the single most erotic event of my life. But now you really must go.”
She sighed. “I suppose, but it will be difficult. When will I see you next?”
“First, tell me about Glastonbury. How will you avoid his call?”
“As it happens, I am traveling to Richmond tomorrow for a ball and will stay overnight.”
He’d just finished buttoning his fall. “The Crimshaw ball? I will be there.” His lips slowly spread into an utterly magnificent grin.
Cassandra’s heart turned over. “Then I shall see you there. I’m certain you can maneuver an occasion for us to meet.”
“I shall consider it my primary duty. Just remember, that in public, I shall nearly give you the cut direct.” He bowed elegantly as if they were in the middle of the ballroom and hadn’t just enjoyed each other in a thoroughly carnal fashion.
Ballroom! She needed to get back. Already, she was thinking that she’d tell them she came up here—by herself—instead of going to the retiring room. Because surely Prudence had already gone in search of her.
“You’re right. I must go.” She didn’t even have time to kiss him properly. But they had tomorrow. Blowing him a kiss, she turned and left, floating on air as she made her way down to the ball.
Chapter 15
Last night had been the best sleep Ruark could remember. He would say it was because of his restless sleep of the night before and the exhaustion of fighting—and losing to bloody Glastonbury—but he knew it was because of his encounter with Cassandra in the storage room.
She’d fulfilled dreams he didn’t know he had and given him several new ones. Starting with finding ways to get her alone at the ball tonight, a task that had become slightly more difficult once he’d relented to his mother’s pleas to bring her and Kat to the ball tonight.
His coach, one of many in an interminable line, arrived at the front door. “This is so exciting!” his mother exclaimed. “I’m so glad we were able to come. Isn’t it wonderful, Kathleen?” She glanced over at Kat who’d been reading a book the entire way.
Kat didn’t look up. “Mmm.”
“I don’t know how you can read that. The lantern can’t possibly provide enough light.”
“She can probably read in the dark, Mother,” Ruark said pleasantly. “She’s quite driven.”
Snapping the book closed, Kat set it on the seat between herself and the side of the coach. “Thank you for recognizing that, Ruark. Are we getting out of the carriage or have I donned this infernal ballgown for naught?”
Their mother pursed her lips at Kat. “I do hope you’ll shed that attitude once we’re inside.”
Kat’s only response was to motion toward the open door with an expectant look.
Ruark jumped down and helped first his mother then his sister from the coach. Once inside, they made their way to the ballroom where the brightness of hundreds of candles and mirrors upon the walls competed with the noise of ballgoers, some of whom, like Cassandra, were fortunate enough to have a room to stay the night. The rest would stay until dawn but then drive back to London with the rising sun.
He could hardly wait to see Cassandra even if he wasn’t supposed to dance with her. Or promenade with her. Or spend time with her at all. As far as people could see. What they did in secret was another matter entirely. He hoped they’d have an opportunity to steal a few minutes.
Even as he wished to spend time with her, a voice in the back of his head warned that he was behaving stupidly, that this scheme to wait three years was beyond foolish. Except it had been her idea to wait. He should have walked away from her, painful as it would have been. It’s not as if he hadn’t done that before.
But this time was different. He hadn’t told any of the others about the promise he’d made to his father. That he’d told Cassandra, and she not only understood but wanted to wait for him, made him think she had to be different, that maybe she could be the one he was meant to love. Forever.
If he could.
The fear that he wouldn’t be able to or that her emotions would change was very real, even if it seemed absurd. He didn’t want to fall out of love with her and if he didn’t push her away, as he had the others, perhaps that would increase the chance that their love would persist.
It was only three years. Unless he broke his vow. If he still loved her in a year, would he feel confident to take the next step toward their future together?
He began to shake. He needed to take this slowly. One day at a time.
As they reached the ballroom, he willed himself to relax and focus on just tonight.
“My goodness, look at all the people,” his mother said with quiet awe. “So many potential husbands.” She gripped Ruark’s arm. “This is splendid. Thank you.”
“So many potential subjects,” Kat murmured from his other side.
Ruark bit back a smile. “Shh. Mother will hear you. You must behave.”
“I will if you will.”
For a moment, Ruark wondered if she knew he was hoping to have an assignation with Cassandra. But how could she? Kat was merely being sarcastic.
They mingled for a while before the music started and Ruark scanned the ballroom for Cassandra. Had she not come? What if Glastonbury had arrived before she’d left, and they were now betrothed? Ruark felt as if he’d been punched repeatedly in the gut.
Looking toward the door, the tension left his frame as he saw Cassandra, beautiful in a vivid dark rose-pink gown. He simply stared at her, his senses reveling in her presence. Then everything around him came to a screeching halt as he realized her father was standing next to her.
What the hell was the duke doing here?
His presence would make seeing Cassandra privately more difficult. Ruark forced the tension from his shoulders. Perhaps that was for the best.
Turning away, he escorted his mother and Kat deeper in the ballroom.
Two glasses of champagne later, he was feeling slightly better. He’d also convinced himself that not being alone with Cassandra was better. For her. She might be content to wait for him, but he couldn’t shake the doubt swirling in his gut. He’d spent nearly his entire life thinking he shouldn’t be ready to wed until he was thirty and that he couldn’t be sure he could love anyone until then. And experience had proved that right.
“I’m so pleased your sister is dancing,” Ruark’s mother said, dragging him from his thoughts.
Kat was currently in the middle of a set with a young, energetic gentleman. She wasn’t the best of dancers, but she was keeping up from what Ruark could see.
“Can we move over to the refreshment table?” his mother asked. “I need something to drink.”
Ruark offered his arm and they strolled to a table with a bowl of probably ratafia. A footman offered his mother a glass, which she accepted and immediately drained.
“Lovely,” she declared, swinging the glass as she spoke. And nearly hitting the Duke of Evesham in the chin.
Cassandra’s father jerked back then narrowed his eyes at Ruark’s mother. Already disinclined to like the duke, Ruark’s hackles rose.
“Please excuse my mother,” Ruark said evenly. “Mother, allow me to introduce the Duke of Evesham. This is my mother, Mrs. Fergus Shaughnessy.”
His mother dropped into a perfect curtsey. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace.”
“Good evening,” the duke said without inflection. His gaze however was tinged with annoyance.
“I beg your pardon,” Ruark’s mother continued. “I didn’t mean to swing my arm like that.” She offered a lighthearted laugh, clearly meant to defuse the tense encounter. Was it really tense, or was that just Ruark’s estimation?
Ruark realized Miss Lancaster was just behind the duke. “Miss Lancaster, you remember my mother?”
“You’ve met?” the duke asked in surprise.
