How to Entice an Earl (21 page)

But the ache she felt demanded more. “I need you,” she gasped, lifting her hips in time with his fingers. “Please,” she begged. “Please.”

To her relief, she felt him lift his head, his soft hair tickling her belly. “As you wish,” he said roughly, kissing his way up her body to her mouth, where she tasted herself.

Sliding a hand down his back to grasp his buttocks, she was impatient to feel him inside her.

Mindless with need, Maddie felt him grasp her by the knees and push them up to her chest. The position left her completely open to him, and as she tilted her pelvis upward she was relieved to feel his hardness against her exposed thigh.

“Is this what you need?” Christian asked, pressing into her with a slowness that was devastating. Once, twice, Maddie felt her body clench around him, as if pulling him into the heart of her. Fully seated, Christian gave a slight groan as he kissed her, then began to move. His thrusts sure and controlled and not at all what Maddie wanted. Unable to move her body to angle into his movements, she lifted up to kiss him. “Let go,” she whispered against his mouth. “Let go of your control and feel me.”

Christian stopped moving. He looked into her eyes, and with a quick kiss, he unleashed whatever had been holding him back. His powerful arms bracketed her, holding his weight off her while he allowed himself to slide into her with the full force of his passion. Again and again he drove into her; hard, strong, and unrelenting. Her body alive with the delicious friction between their bodies, Maddie held on to him for dear life, taking each and every inch of him into her.

Finally, it was too much for them both. Christian’s movements became wild, erratic, and Maddie felt herself hurtling toward the bliss she knew they both wanted. Needed. Crying out, she felt her body pulse around him as she lost herself. At the same time, she felt his back bow and he gave a guttural cry, spilling himself into her and lowering his body onto hers.

They lay panting together for several seconds as they got their bearings.

“Did it again,” he muttered against her neck. “Sorry.” Pushing himself to his arms, he kissed her gently and then turned onto his back, pulling her with him so that she lay atop him.

“Better?” he asked, squinting into her slitted eyes.

She tucked her head under his chin. “I suppose,” she said. Then promptly fell asleep.

Much later, Maddie watched as Christian rose from the bed and dressed hastily, tying his cravat in a casual fashion that would have Deveril
tsk
ing.

“I’ll be by in the morning to talk to your father,” he said, kissing her one last time. “Don’t marry anyone else in the meantime.”

“You are an absurd man,” she said, shaking her head as she sat up in the bed, clutching the sheet to her bosom.

As she watched, he slipped out of the window and stepped out onto the trellis beyond.

“But I’m your absurd man,” he said, disappearing down the side of the house.

“Yes, you are,” Maddie said to the open window.

Twelve

It was nearly noon when Christian strode into White’s, in search of coffee and perhaps a bit of low-key conversation. He had arrived home before dawn, but just barely. And after so much time spent with Maddie, he found that his mind was filled with thoughts of her. And so was his body, which was not sated despite the activities in her bed last night. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. He’d never found himself in the position of aching for a woman he’d already had. It was a new experience for him, and since he planned to marry her as soon as humanly possible, it boded well for their future together.

But before he could face Maddie’s father, he needed strong coffee, and perhaps a bit of advice from his friends. He was pleased to find Winterson ensconced in a corner with a pot of coffee and a tableful of newspapers.

“Good morning, old chap,” he said, lowering himself to a chair opposite his friend.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” Winterson, a dark brow raised in suspicion, looked up from his newspaper. “You look as if you didn’t sleep at all. But you’re whistling. Odd, that.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Christian indicated to the waiter that he would like coffee as well. “Can a man not be in a good mood without prompting suspicion? If so, you will have to turn your eagle eye upon yourself, for I believe you have been in an annoyingly good mood for weeks now.”

The duke leaned back in his chair and surveyed his friend. “Interesting,” he said finally, then picked up his paper and continued reading.

They were silent as Christian waited for his coffee, and to see if his friend would extrapolate upon his one-word pronouncement. But after a prolonged silence, in which Winterson continued to read silently, he could stand it no more. “What the devil is that supposed to mean? ‘Interesting.’”

When his coffee arrived, he absently took a large mouthful and swore as the hot liquid singed his tongue. Lowering the paper to stare at his friend, Winterson raised his brows in inquiry. “Just what it usually means,” he said. “I find it interesting that you came into White’s this morning, without having slept, your cravat a mess, your shirt rumpled, and rumors abounding about how you spent last evening.”

A peal of warning sounded in Christian’s chest. “What rumors?” he asked, his good mood waning.

“What rumors, he asks,” Winterson said, shaking his head in exasperation. “The rumors that you kissed Lady Madeline Essex in Lady Emily Fielding’s drawing room last night. Which, I might add, has been corroborated by three people in attendance at her little card party.”

Damn it. “I had hoped that our engagement would quash the rumors before they even made the rounds.”

“So,” Winterson said with deceptive calm, “the rumors are true and you plan to marry her?”

“Yes,” Christian responded, not fooled by his friend’s calm demeanor. As a male relative—even by marriage—of Maddie, Winterson would not hestitate to protect her reputation. Even if that meant crossing swords with his best friend. “And, of course. Have no doubt on that score.”

The duke’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he grinned. “I am happy to hear it. I must admit that when Cecily first suggested the idea to me I thought she was cracked.”

“What does Cecily know of it?” Christian demanded. “I didn’t know for sure myself until last night.”

“She is a woman, Gresham. Their minds leap from acquaintance to marriage in the space of a moment. Even the ones whose minds are also filled with ancient languages and such.”

Christian thrust a hand into his carefully arranged locks. “I dislike being the object of such scrutiny,” he said, feeling harassed. “If I’d known she was watching us so closely I might never have…” He paused, rethinking the wisdom of admitting last night’s encounter
after
Lady Emily’s soiree to his friend. “Never mind.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Winterson said reassuringly, “Deveril was quite convinced that she wouldn’t have you. In fact, let me know when you plan to announce the engagement. I want to be the one to tell him. He owes me a pony!”

Christian’s mouth dropped open. “He bet against me? The bastard!”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Gresh,” the duke said, leaning back in his chair. “Deveril’s view of you is colored by the less than crisp nature of your shirt points.”

“But yours is not?” the other man demanded wryly.

Winterson shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t so sure you’d manage the thing, either. But I reckoned Cecily would reward me for having faith in my friend.

“Which,” he continued with a wink, “she did.”

Christian shook his head in disgust. “I cannot believe that I have nursed such—”

“I believe the saying is ‘vipers in the bosom,’” Winterson offered helpfully.

“Vipers in my bosom,” Christian agreed, sipping his coffee. “I can only imagine what mischief you would have got up to if it were a love match.”

This erased Winterson’s grin. “You mean it isn’t a love match?”

“Hardly,” Christian replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I am fond of her, of course. And we are compatible in … other ways.” He didn’t feel right discussing what he’d shared with Maddie last night. It was private. Between them. “I think we will rub along tolerably together.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Winterson frowned. “I know it’s not always fashionable, but there is something intoxicating about being married to a woman you love.”

Since Winterson had married, Christian had seen a change in his friend. And it was one for the better. The duke seemed more settled. More grounded. And happy in a way Christian had never seen him. But it was hardly possible for everyone to replicate the Duke and Duchess of Winterson’s happiness.

“The circumstances that brought about your marriage are not so different from mine with Maddie” he said, treading carefully.

The duke paused, his frown deepening. “What circumstances?” he asked silkily.

Christian felt his face color. “Just that it started as a hastily arranged affair,” he said, hastening to add, “As ours will be. That’s all I mean.”

“Are you saying you compromised the girl more thoroughly than with a kiss, Christian?”

Damn. Winterson hadn’t called him by his given name since Eton at least.

Still, he would not allow the other man to cow him. He was hardly Maddie’s father. And though he appreciated his friend’s protectiveness, he was the one who would be looking after Madeline from now on.

“That is none of your affair,” he said, a hint of steel in his tone. “Suffice it to say that we will be married as soon as possible, and that I will endeavor to make the young lady happy.”

The two men stared at one another for a moment, then, nodding his approval, Winterson reached out to cuff Christian on the shoulder.

“Congratulations,” he said. “She’s a fine, if spirited, lady. I wish you every happiness.”

“Thanks,” said Christian wryly. “But what I need is advice on how to approach her father.”

Winterson grinned, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Excellent! As you know I love strategizing.”

Relieved that this first hurdle had been cleared successfully, Christian set himself to the task at hand.

*   *   *

Maddie awoke the next morning with the feeling that something was different, but was unable to place what it was. Then the memories of last night came rushing back, and panicking, she reached down to ensure she’d put her night rail back on since she heard her maid stirring about the room.

“Good morning, Lady Madeline,” her maid, Landers, said, pulling back the curtains. “You’ve got a visitor in the blue sitting room.”

Thinking that Christian must have already spoken to her father, Maddie swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose.

“I hope he hasn’t been waiting long,” she said, moving to her dressing table to pull a brush through her tangled locks.

“Oh, it isn’t a gentleman, my lady,” Landers said, bustling about the room. “It’s a Miss Snowe.”

Maddie paused, the brush halfway through a knot. “Miss Snowe?” she demanded. “Miss Amelia Snowe?”

When the maid assured her that it was indeed Amelia, Maddie debated for a moment whether she should see her. Amelia was hardly a dear friend who would be expected to call. However, the very fact that the other lady had called was remarkable enough that she couldn’t possibly resist receiving her.

Dressed in a pale pink sprig muslin morning gown that she adored—it was important to one’s confidence she’d found of late to wear something one loved when facing a difficult task—Maddie entered the blue sitting room a bare half hour later to find that Landers had been correct. Seated there on Maddie’s favorite chaise for reading was Miss Amelia Snowe.

“Good morning, Miss Snowe,” Maddie said, approaching the other woman as if she were a coiled cobra preparing to strike, and curtsying just enough to be polite. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

Amelia stood and offered her own abbreviated curtsy. “Lady Madeline,” she said, her china-blue eyes narrow with dislike. “I have come on a matter of some delicacy.”

That brought Maddie up short. What could Amelia possibly have to discuss with her that might be called delicate?

Waving for the other girl to continue, Maddie took a seat in a chintz chair opposite the chaise.

Returning to her seat, Miss Snowe said bluntly, “I received an anonymous note this morning informing me of the fact that you and Lord Gresham shared a very public kiss last night at the home of Lady Emily Fielding.”

What the…? Maddie felt her spine stiffen. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I do not know, nor do I care, about the truth or falsity of the matter,” Amelia said with a frown. “What you do with Lord Gresham is your affair.” She colored slightly. “I will admit that I have not harbored the most … friendly of feelings toward you and your cousins. In fact, I have taken you in active dislike. But whoever sent this note to me thinks that I am the sort of person who would spread the type of rumor that could ruin a young lady. I am not pleased that they thought this of me.”

Maddie felt her eyes widen. “You mean to say that you do not intend to spread this tale? Despite your dislike of me?”

She was astonished. Not by Amelia’s declaration that she disliked Maddie and her cousins. That was obvious to anyone. What surprised her was the other young lady’s decision to keep the potentially ruinous bit of gossip about Maddie to herself. Next she’d be cooing at small animals and chucking babies under the chin.

“No,” Amelia said, her lips tight. “Not because I do not think it’s true. But because I do not wish my reputation to be further sullied by the notion that I am an ill-tempered shrew who will stop at nothing to ruin her social enemies.”

When it was stated in that light, Maddie felt the world tilt back to its normal axis. This was the Amelia she’d come to know and despise. She was somewhat relieved. It would have been quite difficult to adapt to the notion of Amelia as a kind, upstanding young lady.

“I suppose thanks are in order?” Maddie said, unsure how to proceed.