Bedding Lord Ned (32 page)

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Authors: Sally MacKenzie

BOOK: Bedding Lord Ned
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She froze, eyes widening. She looked a bit like a frightened rabbit, but she didn't try to pull away or shake off his hold—not that he
was
holding her. His fingers just lay lightly on her gloveless forearm, on her smooth, soft, warm skin.
He couldn't help himself. His fingers moved of their own volition up and down, never straying higher than her elbow—and then finally clasping her hand and bringing it to his lips. Desire burned in him like a fever. “I don't want to go back to our old, comfortable friendship, Ellie,” he said before brushing her knuckles with his mouth.
 
 
Ellie couldn't breathe. The glove she'd been holding dropped from her fingers. She'd felt so many things in such a short time: panic, mortification, shock, and something else. Something dark and confusing.
She'd meant to dash back to the safety of her room, but now ... The touch of Ned's lips flashed like lightning down her arm to lodge in her heart—and an organ somewhat lower in her body. Heat radiated from both locations. She couldn't move. “Y-you don't?”
“No.” His eyes, hot and intent, held hers.
When she'd seen him look at Cicely back before they'd wed, she'd thought she'd seen yearning or even worship in his eyes, and she'd dreamt that one day he'd look at her that way. But this ... this was far more carnal. It made her uncomfortable, as if her skin was too tight and sensitive.
Was this the way a man looked who was bent on seduction?
She swallowed. “What
do
you want?”
“You.” His eyes widened briefly as if the answer surprised him as much as it did her, and then his lips slid into a slow smile.
Definitely seduction. She could think of only one cause for this sudden change in attitude. “Because of my new dress?”
Mama had said on more than one occasion that men were far more influenced by their senses than women. Ellie hadn't believed her, but perhaps she should have.
If she'd worn that other red dress to Ned's and Cicely's betrothal ball,
would
Ned have chosen her instead?
No. There'd been far more to Ned's love for Cicely than just physical attraction.
Could there be more between her and Ned as well?
“The dress is certainly very nice,” Ned was saying as he traced the line of her bodice, making her nipples tighten into shockingly hard peaks. “But it's not the dress that I want.”
But if she couldn't have more—if she couldn't have marriage and happily ever after—would she take seduction?
Of course not! It was wrong. Sinful. Scandalous. Well-bred young ladies—or even old spinsters—didn't participate in such, er, activities ... whatever they were.
But she'd seen Ned's broad chest and shoulders, his muscular arms. She knew they were there under his banyan. And she felt this hot, throbbing
need
.
She'd just resigned herself to being a maiden aunt, so why not a maiden with some experience? No one need know besides Ned; surely he would keep her secret. And while there was a chance their encounter might result in a child—fear and yearning twisted into a tight knot in her heart—one time would not be so dangerous. It had taken her sisters many tries to become enceinte with their first children.
This was Ned, the only man she'd ever loved. Shocking as it was to admit it, she wanted him so badly she was prepared to do anything to have him even just once.
She'd spent years being a quiet, proper woman, and she had years ahead of her playing that same role. This was her one chance to be wildly improper and let her body rule her mind.
Ned bent his head to whisper by her ear. “No, it's not the dress I want, it's the woman in the dress.”
Her need exploded, and the odd, damp place between her legs throbbed to the beat of her heart. The room suddenly felt too warm. Ridiculous! It was February in Greycliffe Castle, for God's sake. She'd wanted her shawl earlier when she'd been hiding under Ned's bed, but now she wanted to shed her lovely dress and her stays and her chemise to be completely, wonderfully naked.
The thought that Ned was virtually naked under his banyan was torturing her. She wanted to see his chest and shoulders again; she wanted to touch him; she wanted to
feel
him, to put her skin against his. She wanted to experience what her sisters had whispered and giggled about all these years while throwing her pitying looks. She might never be able to acknowledge that she knew what they were talking about, but that didn't matter. She would have this memory to hold in her heart for as long as she lived.
It was the last day of the party, and she was feeling reckless. They weren't expected downstairs for a little while. She would do what she wanted just this once.
“And I want you,” she said, reaching for the top clasp on his banyan.
His fingers caught hers—he was frowning. Damn it, Lord Worry—the rational, careful, sensible Ned—had returned. “What are you doing?”
“Isn't it obvious?” She tried to free her hands. “I'm attempting to open these clasps.”
He made an odd sound, something between a laugh and a groan. “Well, yes, but—” An annoyingly determined look settled over his features. “That is not a good idea. You should go back to your room.”
“I don't want to go back to my room.” Blast it, it would help if she had the faintest idea how to seduce someone. At least Ned wasn't dragging her to the door yet.
“What if someone comes in and finds us?”
Fear briefly cleared the lust from her mind. Ned was right. If someone found her here with him, the scandal would be enormous. The duchess would have her thrown out of the castle; Mama would lock her in her room forever. It would be far worse than the last time she'd worn a red dress—
Oh, no. This was not the same at all. “You closed your door, didn't you? I distinctly remember hearing a door shut.”
“Well, yes.”
“So then we're safe. No one will come in without your permission, even the servants, and they are too busy with the guests arriving to bother you anyway.” She smiled. “And if the unthinkable happens, I'll just hide under your bed.” Her smile widened. “I've done it before.”
Ned's grasp had loosened so she was able to jerk her hands free and get the top clasp open before he stopped her again.
“Ellie, you don't know what you're doing.”
She hoped she heard a hint of desperation in his voice. “Then why don't you show me?”
He laughed a bit breathlessly. “That would not be a good idea. Now—”
“Why?” Damn it, Mama—well, perhaps not Mama. That was an unsettling thought. But
someone
should have given her lessons in seduction along with instruction in needlework and household management. Surely this aspect of a man's well-being was as important as having well-kept linens and palatable meals. “Why wouldn't it be a good idea? It seems like an excellent idea to me.”
His chin hardened—that was always a bad sign. Once Ned made up his mind, he was almost impossible to persuade. “It is
not
a good idea. I might do something I'd regret later.”
Oh, hell, maybe the direct approach was best. “Ned, I
want
you to do something you'll regret later—well, I hope you won't regret it, actually, but I'm sure it's the thing that you think you will.” She looked him in the eye. “I want you to take me over to that bed and do whatever it is men do with women in such situations.”
His eyes widened with shock, but she didn't care. This was her best chance. She'd be strong and decisive. If she failed, it wasn't going to be from lack of trying. “And I want you to do it
right now
.”
She took advantage of his momentary surprise to open three more clasps before he stopped her again.
“I can't.” He sounded desperate.
“You
can
.” She not only sounded desperate, she
was
desperate.
He glared at her, but she could see his desire battling his conscience. “You haven't agreed to marry me. I won't do anything unless you do.”
She didn't want to trap him into something he didn't want—well, at least not something as permanent as marriage. “Come, Ned, I'm not that naïve. You don't ask all the women you take to bed to marry you, do you?”
He flushed a brighter red than her dress, and his glare turned to a scowl. “Yes, I do.”
“Oh.” Her mouth dropped open. She shouldn't be shocked—she'd have sworn Ned had never been a rake—but she'd always heard men would climb into bed with any woman who offered them the slightest invitation. So if Ned had never ... that meant Cicely had been the only ...
He stepped away from her, giving her clear passage to leave. “If you'd hoped for a more experienced husband, you will have to keep looking.”
“No, I—”
“I'm sure Mama will be happy to take you to London for the Season.” Ned looked away from her. “You should be able to find plenty of men there who are far more skilled in the amatory arts than I.”
This was ridiculous. Now she had to deal with Ned's bruised male sensibilities. Why would he think she'd want to associate with some unknown libertine?
“Damn it, Ned, at least you've done it more times than I have.” She crossed her arms to keep from shaking him. “Whatever ‘it' is. I do wish you would stop stalling and show me.”
He crossed his arms as well. “Only if you swear you'll marry me.”
She raised her chin. “I'll marry you only if you swear our marriage will not be some dreadful marriage of convenience. I expect to sleep in the same bed as you and to have you fulfill your marital duties regularly.”
Ned frowned. “I'm not sure you should insist on that. You've admitted you don't know what those duties are. You may find you don't like them.”
Did he sound a little worried? Perhaps she should be cautious. “Very well, I won't insist on that point now, but I reserve my right to insist later.” She grinned at him, hoping her nerves weren't glaringly obvious. “If you will get on with it, I should be able to make a decision shortly.”
He didn't grin back. “The first time for a woman can be, ah, somewhat uncomfortable, Ellie.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“When the maidenhead tears, it can hurt.” He cleared his throat. “There can be bleeding.”
This was a bit alarming, but it couldn't be worse than childbirth—not that she would say that to Ned. Rather than making him laugh, it would likely cause him to run from the room. “Very well, consider me warned.” She smiled hopefully at him. “Now will you ruin me?”
That was the wrong thing to say as well. His face got that damn mulish look again.
“No. I don't know what I was thinking. We shall wait until we are married.” He started toward the door to his sitting room. “That's the proper thing to do—that's what your parents and mine expect. We'll announce our engagement tonight, and then I'll get a special license.”
“I don't want to wait.” She grabbed the back of his banyan before he could escape. “I promised to marry you; I thought you promised to ruin me.”
“Ellie.” He turned; she danced out of his reach.
If he took hold of her, her hope of seduction would be over. He'd walk her chastely out of his room and close the door behind her—likely lock it as well. And while she'd have the pleasure of a betrothal announcement at dinner and at the ball, she wanted more. She wanted—needed—something to relieve this odd tension that was so strong it almost made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
She not only didn't want to wait—she couldn't. But how could she get Ned to cooperate?
“Ellie, be reasonable.”
“No.” If Mama was right and men were ruled by their senses, perhaps she could appeal to Ned on that level. He certainly had liked her new dress.
She backed toward his bed, shedding hairpins as she went, watching his eyes follow her hands. His desire was warring with his conscience again—she could see it in his eyes.
“I can't wait, Ned. I've waited so many years already. I fell in love with you when I was nine. You were a boy—you didn't care or even notice. And then you fell in love with Cicely.”
“Ellie.”
She heard the pain in his voice, but she couldn't stop. “Please believe me, Ned. I never wanted anything bad for Cicely. She was my friend, and I mourned her death. But I never stopped loving you—I never stopped
wanting
you.” She pulled out the last hairpin and shook her head. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders to her waist.
“Ever since your year of mourning was over, I kept hoping you'd see me as more than a friend.” She peeled off the one glove she was wearing.

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