An Invitation to Scandal (11 page)

“You’re already indicated you do not need my help. Either way, I caution you to reconsider what you are doing. It will come to naught.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you are on the wrong path. Confronting Lord Roxton will do you no good. The man is a cad of the first order. He has done despicable things. He is not worthy of your time, or your trouble. He certainly is not worth risking your reputation over.”

He spoke so forcefully, Abigail sensed he had a close association with Lord Roxton, one that had not ended well. It could mean only one thing.

She had found herself a true ally.

“If you know Lord Roxton, and if you have been the recipient of his special brand of deceit, then you must understand I cannot let this slight pass. He will get what is coming to him.”

She had moved closer to him as she spoke. It had not been intentional. Not until her body rested lightly against his did she realize she had done it. She should be shocked, yet everything about it felt natural, as did the longing for more.

“Can I ask one more favor?”

He stared down at her, his mouth turned downward at the corners, his intense eyes unfathomable. “You may.”

Beyond the music room, the sound of a lively tune filtered up the hallway, mixed with the din of conversation. She wondered if anyone had missed her yet. Her mother had been deep in conversation. Likely it would be a little while before she realized Abigail had not yet returned. She had time. The question was, did she have the courage?

“Will you kiss me once more?”

Chapter Seven

Her reckless request bordered on madness, but Abigail could not resist. She had been unable to get his kiss out of her mind. He had stirred in her such desires she could barely go more than a minute without some part of her mind or body reminiscing about that one perfect moment.

Once married to Lord Tarrington, this part of her life would be over before it began. Was it so wrong she wished to experience the sensations this mystery man provoked in her just one more time? A muscle in his jaw twitched and the hands around her waist tightened, pulling her into him a little more until the hard contours of his body could be felt through the layers of her skirts.

“I do not have that right.” The words were strained, as if speaking them caused him great discomfort.

“I am giving you that right,” she said. “Did you not feel something when we kissed before?”

For a fleeting moment, she thought he would deny it, but he didn’t. Closing his eyes, he answered her with a curt nod.

She rushed ahead before he could speak, before he could talk sense into her, because in truth what she asked was nonsensical in so many ways, yet in one way, in the only way that counted, it made perfect sense.

“If you were in my situation, forced to marry an old man who would never love you, would you not want to grab a brief moment of happiness, of pleasure, before time ran out and you were consigned to a life without it? Is a kiss so much to ask for?”

He shook his head, lifting one hand to her lips. She trembled beneath the light touch of his calloused finger, letting the shivers course through her body and awaken it to possibility. To hope.

“Shall I give you a kiss to remember then?” His voice grew husky, its roughness making her insides heat.

“Please.”

His mouth descended upon hers, his touch tentative as their lips met. She could feel his restraint in the tightening of his muscles. She wanted to toss off her mask, hating the barrier between them, but she dared not. Though she had the sense if she did, he would keep her secret. How foolish to put such trust in a man she had met only once before, who she knew nothing about, but her heart told her she could. Of course, her heart had also told her she could trust Lord Roxton, once upon a time. The sobering thought gave her pause, not enough to dampen the heat his touch inflamed within her, but enough to keep her mask in place. Besides, the thin layer of silk that made up his mask lay flush to his skin and allowed him to easily maneuver around hers with little effort.

He teased her mouth with small butterfly kisses creating in her a need that made her keen for more. She wanted to give herself over to him. She wanted—oh devil take it!—she wanted him to peel away every last layer of clothing and cover her body with those kisses. The very thought of such decadence flushed her with a need she could not control and when he deepened their kiss, encompassing her in his arms, she did not object. Nor did she voice any concern when he guided her backward with his body until the edge of a small table bumped her from behind.

Desire roared through her like a tempest and assaulted her body and mind with wants and needs until she was helpless to stop it, even if she wanted to. Which, she quickly discovered, she did not.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

Her heart pumped, but she did as he bade, relinquishing control for the sake of pleasure. Oh and she knew there would be pleasure. Already her body sang from his nearness, the sound of his voice, the strength of his hands around her waist.

“Keep them closed,” he instructed.

She nodded, forcing herself to comply, even as his hand reached downward and the hem of her skirt began to rise. His body shifted and she sensed he had knelt down in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t care about his answer, nor did he offer one, as his hand slid upward over her silk stockings, up her calf, over her knee, until his touch teased the edge of her garter. The sensation of his bare skin grazing hers sent shivers through her and a deep ache pooled between her thighs.

“Oh!” The word released on a rush of breath.

How could a touch be so seductive? But it was. His hand touching a part of her body only she had touched. Warm flesh against warm flesh. His hands inched further upward, continuing their sensual journey. They brushed over her hips and began to move inward. Abigail held her breath, part of her wishing with all her might his hand would dispel the ache. How, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She only knew he could.

And that she desperately wanted him to.

But the other part of her, the sensible part that had been trained year upon year to behave properly, to not give into temptation and desire, that part wanted her to run away. It was too much.

Temptation and desire proved too strong, rooting her to the spot. When the ties of her drawers loosened and he tugged them gently over her hips until they caught on her garters, she did not stop him. She did not run away, or demand he release her.

Abigail trembled, her body shaking from a mix of nervousness and desire. It was all so wrong, yet nothing had ever felt more right. She needed to stop this. She needed to—

“Do you want me to kiss you now?” he asked. She opened her eyes to find him looking up at her from where he knelt upon the ground.

“Oh yes,” she breathed. She craved his mouth. That intoxicating mouth that could send her mind reeling and her body singing.

“Very well then.”

While she had indeed desired a kiss, the one she received was far removed from what she had been expecting. She had never had a man this close to her before, in this manner, and certainly not with his mouth so near her…well, needless to say, this was an uncommon occurrence.

Perhaps that was why she did not cry out when he disappeared beneath her skirts. Or refuse him when his hands gently guided her legs apart. She remained silent when his lips placed a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh, so close to where she ached. So close to where a pulsing need had grown into a roaring desire she could no longer control or deny.

His mouth pressed against the nest of soft curls at the juncture of her thighs. Heat spiraled through and up and around until it permeated every aspect of her being and left nothing untouched.

Sinful. It had to be, but she did not stop him. She couldn’t. She needed release, and she needed him to be the one to release her.

The tip of his tongue flicked out and slid along her opening, now slick with the desire coursing through her. She gasped and her hands gripped his broad shoulders beneath her skirts.

“No, you mustn’t—”

But he did. Had it not been for the grip she had on his shoulders or his hands cupping her bare bottom, she would have collapsed to the ground. Her legs shook. No, her whole body shook.

He kissed her again, teasing with his lips and his tongue, deeply, wantonly. She could not stand it. She perched on the brink of something cataclysmic and though she could not understand it, she did not want to run from it. Rather she wanted to run to it, fully, completely.

He did not remove his mouth this time. Instead he pulled her closer, shifted position until her legs spread wider, giving him more access. It proved her undoing.

His mouth, his tongue, his fingers. The sensations built inside of her until she could no longer contain them. It rushed upon her like a crescendo and pulled her under.

Abigail bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out, but she was too far gone in the sensations rolling over her to know if she succeeded.

She had no recollection of time, or how long it took before her faculties returned. But when they did, she realized, with such clarity, she had just experienced passion.

And she wanted more.

Nicholas pressed his mouth against her one last time, taking one final taste before he reached down and pulled her drawers back up, tying them in place.

He could not believe he had allowed himself to get this carried away. Guilt clawed at him. Had he not done enough to this family that he now must debauch Miss Laytham as well?

That she had been the one to request the kiss mattered not, as the kiss he gave her was a far cry from what she asked for, or expected.

He had broken the promise he had made to himself.

And he had done it in the worst possible way.

He should tell her the truth, reveal his identity, but he knew to do so would only make things worse. If she knew who had given her the passion she craved it would destroy any happy memory she had hoped to create.

She would despise him even more. And she would never forgive herself.

Nicholas could not add to the gravity of the situation by allowing that.

No, he would bear the weight of this on his own shoulders. He would not see her again, at least not like this. The mystery man of her romantic fantasies would disappear, and hopefully she would be satisfied with the pleasure and passion she’d experienced this night and not seek it out again.

“I have never…” She did not finish her sentence, but merely stared at him with half-sated desire still simmering in her blue eyes.

“I am glad it pleased you,” he said, wishing things could be different. That he was different. What might their courtship have led to had it not been abruptly ended by Lord Glenmor’s refusal of his suit? Would they have married? Would they have had a life filled with these moments?

“Pleased me?” She smiled. “It more than pleased me.” She moved closer and rested her weight against his chest. His arms automatically encircled her. She fit perfectly, more so than he had ever experienced. The thought had not occurred to him before. But he thought about it now, and it disturbed him almost as much as his behavior. He wanted to hold her there forever, keep her safe, and be the only one who ever touched her.

But that could never happen. He must let her go. Now, before he lost the will to do so.

She peered up at him. “Is it horrible I do not feel ashamed? I know I should. But…” she words trailed away.

He reached up and straightened her mask. “You did nothing to be ashamed of. It is I who should be ashamed. You asked for a simple kiss and I…I took it too far.”

“No, don’t say you regret it.” She pulled away slightly and placed a gloved hand over his lips. Pristine white. The color of innocence.

His heart lurched. How close he had come to allowing his base instincts to take him further. To ruin her forever. What was wrong with him? Even at his worst he’d had better control over his passion and desires than this. Was it because she was the forbidden fruit? The one woman he could never truly have?

“I must leave London,” he told her, before the words deserted him.

“L-leave? Why?”

His mind worked feverishly. He had to put an end to this once and for all. “Family business. It is difficult to say when I will return.”

“I could wait—”

“You will be married,” he reminded her, then wished he had tempered his words when he saw the crestfallen expression pull her lips downward. “Forgive me. I do not mean to be so blunt. But this—” His hand touched her mouth. “It can be nothing more than what it is right now. A pleasant, pleasurable interlude. As you said, you must marry this other man, and I…I too have commitments elsewhere.”

“Will I never see you again?”

He shook his head. “Not like this.”

She took a step back, her disappointment a living, palpable thing. He longed to reach out and kiss her one last time, but he did not dare. He thought she might argue with him, but instead she straightened her shoulders and drew in a deep breath, pressing her breasts upward against the strain of her stays.

“I should go.” She looked around her, as if noticing her surroundings for the first time. “Mama will be wondering where I’ve gone off to.”

Nicholas nodded. He could not escort her back. It would raise too many questions. He must make his excuses to his mother and Miss Caldwell, then leave the party immediately.

Her voice turned businesslike. “You will still point out Lord Roxton to me?”

He had to admire her strength. Most women would be reduced to a sobbing mess by now, given the situation. Or use begging and threats to change his mind. What had happened in Miss Laytham’s life to give her this core of dignity that would not allow her to resort to such measures? Surely, the scandal had intensified it, but he had witnessed it before. It was in the way she carried herself, the way she spoke her mind regardless of what others thought. It was one of the things that attracted him most to her. It saddened him they’d never had the time to delve further into their pasts, to reveal their secrets and desires before Lord Glenmor had put an end to his attentions and she had not fought her uncle’s decision.