An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) Page 14

  Iris swallowed. She rarely touched herself, and then only in the privacy of her bedchamber had she ever dared truly explore her body. The idea of Louth knowing what she did alone titillated, but she was afraid too. What if she was caught? Oh, how she would blush then and embarrass herself.

  She adjusted her hands a little higher in her lap and pressed down over her sex as he asked. A small tremor of desire fluttered between her legs and she gasped. There, that ought to be enough. “Satisfied?”

  “Not yet, but you will be first.” He reached over the side of his chair and she was surprised to find him holding an embroidery hoop before him. “What do you think of Whitney’s work?”

  She winced. The work was poorly done, uneven and lumpy stitches, but she shouldn’t really say so out loud or to him. “I was embroidering a cushion for Esme with similar colors.”

  “She started this when she arrived to pass the time, I think, but her heart really isn’t in it. She loves to paint above all else.” He held the piece over her lap and she grabbed the left side while he held the other.

  The hoop touched her thighs. “Press down again between your legs and rub yourself. No one can see what you do. I want you good and wet for later.”

  Warmth gushed from her at his brazen words. She pressed down a little harder, pushing her skirts between her thighs and rubbing her fingers in an awkward manner to stimulate herself. It wasn’t much, but her behavior, and his scrutiny, excited her unbearably.

  “That’s it,” Louth rumbled with obvious approval. He pointed to the design. “This is thistle and holly, correct?”

  How could he talk of embroidery at a time like this? “Yes, I think holly is very appropriate, given the townhouse name.”

  He was silent a long moment, but his gaze flickered to her secret activity between her legs. “I doubt this is meant as a gift.”

  She nodded at Whitney, glad of the distraction. “Perhaps it is a small token of appreciation for all you have done for her.”

  He smiled wickedly. “I’m going to keep you in my bed all night when you’re mine.”

  She trembled at the idea, wishing for the privacy of a bedchamber now. Everything they had done so far had been done in rooms best meant for conversation rather than pleasure. She would like nothing better than to spend the whole night with him. She was learning so much about desire and her body’s need for touch. She truly was wicked.

  He slid his fingers down the embroidery and behind the shield of the hoop; he touched her thigh and then covered her fingers.

  Under the pressure of his hand, the thrill grew torturous. If not for her friend’s and Whitney’s presence, she would climb onto his lap and beg him to slide inside her body. Her eyes fluttered closed as her sex clenched at the very idea. Anticipation made her breath churn, her body throb. She wished to spread her legs here and now and have Louth’s fingers teasing her to completion. Only his touch on her bare sex would settle the anxiety in her heart that she could keep his interest after the truth was known.

  “Not yet,” he murmured. “Come back to me.”

  His touch trailed away as Esme and Whitney laughed together. Iris snapped her eyes open and withdrew her hand from where she’d been pressing. She’d been on the verge of exploding in this very room without a thought to the consequences of being discovered.

  Esme faced her a moment later. “Do excuse us, my dear. I simply must inspect Miss Crewe’s latest work of art and I believe it is upstairs.”

  The pair departed immediately, leaving her with flaming-hot cheeks and unfulfilled need.

  Louth stood, crossed to the doorway, and quietly closed up the room. He shook his head and grinned. “Continue,” he whispered.

  She shivered at the heat in his eyes. “Without you?”

  Surely tonight he wanted her body to ease his own passions? It might be the very last chance she had.

  He knelt at her feet. When he lifted her skirts slowly up her legs, her body quaked in anticipation of his touch. He lifted a brow as her hands fluttered at her waist but when she boldly lowered them to her sex, he grinned widely. “Yes.”

  She pushed her palm lower over her abdomen and slid her fingers through her curls as he had done before. Her sex was so wet with need she was embarrassed, but when Lord Louth unbuttoned his falls and took himself in hand, she lost any shyness. She teased the aching bud at the apex of her thighs, and slid her fingers down again into her wet heat. He eased closer and set the tip of his erection against her slit, so warm and hard he took her breath away. While she fondled herself, he teased. The friction of his erection against her body made her restless and even more needful.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered as she stretched her fingers to stroke him once.

  “I am. We are. There are as many ways to make love as there are days in the year, but we have little time alone so this moment must do.” He pushed into her, not breaching her but making her anticipate the feel of him. The pressure of his size hastened her touch on her sex and before too long, her legs were wide apart and she was lost.

  She arched at the strangeness and the sharp longing to be one with him. As he slid along her wet sex, her hand fell aside. His cock was soft as silk against her bud and she began to tremble uncontrollably. He clamped one hand over her mouth as her body shattered and she came apart just from imagining him sliding inside her.

  She fought for breath and lost, staring at the wonderful man who’d claimed her for his bride and brought such feeling into her life. He’d been correct. She’d never understood what making love to him would be truly like. She’d never imagined she could crave his attention so badly. Could love him so easily for bringing her ease without taking.

  And tomorrow she’d have to hurt him.

  She reached for him as he climaxed. His seed splattered her palm as he groaned darkly. He bowed his head low and drew in heavy, uneven breaths. Iris examined her hand, but he grabbed her and wiped his seed away. “I apologize for the mess.” His expression grew troubled.

  “Don’t,” she whispered. “I like what we do together far too much to protest about a little soiling. Besides, it’s nice to have proof you’re as affected by me as I am you.”

  He lowered his face and licked along her slit, tasting her with unhurried enthusiasm. “More,” he whispered and then kissed her there.

  The touch of his mouth after such a release startled her but as he lapped at her, she grew accustomed to the sensations and found herself growing warm again. “If marriage to you will be as pleasurable as even one day a year, I would be a fool to refuse you.”

  He pressed a lingering kiss to her sex then pulled her skirts over her knees. “Have you denied me?”

  She smiled. “Well, I haven’t been properly asked to marry you yet, so how could I.”

  His head shot up and he blinked at her. “Tell me if you have some idea of where I can find your father so I can.”

  She touched his face gently and steadied herself for the lie. “I don’t know where he is right now.”

  Louth climbed to his feet slowly, redressed and, after a quick glance at her to make sure she was relatively decent, unlocked the drawing room door. “No man should be this hard to find.”

  Iris stood, adjusting her skirts and then moving to check her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. Not a hair out of place but a slight flush to her cheeks. She hardly looked like a wanton girl, but then again, she didn’t look like a thieves’ accomplice either.

  “Would you care for a sherry?”

  “No, thank you.” The moment Louth turned his back to set the decanter down, she eased to the side, peeking through the nearest uncovered window. All seemed quiet outside, but she had no doubt Talbot’s men were still watching the house. She couldn’t allow an innocent man to be harmed. The window was already locked, and the head of a new nail revealed both window frames had been joined together. She breathed a sigh of relief that Louth had taken extra precautions to protect his home. Short of breaking the glass panes, the wind
ow couldn’t be opened easily. She resumed her inspection of the exotic fire screen. “This is so beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like it.” He drew close and pressed against her back, his head close to hers. His voice dropped to a seductive tease. “Would you like a tour of the rest of the house before we seek out my cousin and Lady Heathcote?”

  “I should like that very much.” She curled her arm about his and strolled through the lower rooms, memorizing the layout for her future dreams. No matter what Meriwether promised, there was always the lingering worry that she’d go to prison along with Talbot. No matter what happened, she would always remember this house, and the man who’d tried to protect her.

  Fifteen

  Whitney was still at breakfast when Martin found her the next morning, her head bowed over the paper and the tip of her fork pressed to her lips. For a change there was no oil paint under her nails. She seemed so fascinated by what she was reading that she didn’t notice his presence at first. “Any news?”

  “Nothing so far about further robberies,” she said as she turned the page. She pointed to his place setting and a pair of letters. “There are, however, several personal letters for your attention.”

  He picked up the first and recognized the hand immediately. Helena. Since they’d spoken just yesterday, he’d no idea why she’d be writing to him. He’d thought the matter of Barker had been addressed. The other was also from her.

  “Cousin, is there a reason you’re getting love letters from a woman other than the one you’re obviously pursuing?” She scowled at him. “Because I am almost certain you and Miss Hedley made love last night in the drawing room.”

  “They’re not love letters,” he scowled. It annoyed him that Whitney was so observant and outspoken about her uncomfortably correct instincts. “I’m merely helping Mrs. Ward with a problem.”

  He ripped one open to prove it and rose petals dropped onto his plate. The note contained an eloquently worded invitation to a late supper that night. He shoved the note and the remaining unopened one into his coat pocket and swept the rose petals into his hand. He deposited them in a nearby vase. Martin was astonished she had not believed he was involved with another woman and would still pursue him for an affair. He would decline her invitation and any other like it.

  “You’re just like every man.” Whitney sighed. “How tragic. I thought you were different from the others.”

  He glanced up from his plate, scowling. “Whom are you comparing me to?”

  “Why, the men who dabble with decent women and then run off to meet, shall we say, a woman of lesser delicacy. I’m sure Miss Hedley by now believes you to have honorable intentions toward her. As did I and her chaperone, Lady Heathcote, last night, when we left you two alone so you might progress your suit.”

  “I have.” He gritted his teeth at Whitney’s concerns. He was for Iris and no one else. In fact, after receiving and declining Helena’s seduction yesterday, he’d felt rather relieved the days of casual flirtation were far behind him. He knew what he was getting in Iris. A woman who was not afraid to ask for what she wanted most.

  “Mr. Lynton Manning is in Town.” Whitney sipped her tea, watching him over the rim. “I passed him in Bond Street just yesterday and he was so obliging and sweet, as always. Much too handsome for the church. You should ask him to perform your marriage ceremony when you do wed.”

  “I had always intended to.” Martin met his cousin’s gaze and gave up trying to hide his decision from her. “Stop fishing. You’ve won.”

  Her brow rose.

  “Yes, I have asked Miss Hedley to marry me, and yes, she has agreed. As soon as I gain her father’s approval we will be wed, most likely by Manning if he’s agreeable.”

  Whitney’s smile was radiant. “My dear cousin, I couldn’t be more pleased with you than if you’d flouted convention and run off to Scotland.”

  “You’d like a touch of scandal, wouldn’t you?”

  She pressed her hand to her chest, fingers spread wide in mock horror. “I’m crushed by your accusation.”

  He sat at the table and considered his cousin. She was utterly incorrigible. No doubt she would run off to Scotland to wed for the fun of it. “I’m glad you like Iris.”

  “She likes you, and that is all I’d hoped to see from your wife. Once you’re married, I should like very much to paint your portraits. It’s high time the one covering your safe was replaced. Our grandmother’s expression gets on my nerves every time I look at her.”

  He laughed. “Only because she looks as if she knows you’re thinking of wearing her gems. I would like a smaller portrait of Iris for my pocket watch one day, if you will oblige me.”

  And a portrait of his daughter, too. But he couldn’t ask Whitney to paint that. The pair would never meet if he could help it.

  Whitney frowned. “If you’d rather engage a gentleman for the task, with a fine hand for detail, I can recommend several.”

  “After all the coin I’ve spent on paints and canvas?” He snorted and snatched the newssheet from her hands. “I should gain something in return for putting up with you, hoyden.”

  Whitney set her hands to the chair beneath her legs. “About Miss Hedley. Would you like me to return to Holly Park when you marry or remain behind in London so you might have time alone? I can understand if you’d rather me out of the way.”

  He glanced around the paper, astonished by her kind offer. “There’s no need to part company when we marry, although… Miranda mentioned last week that she was thinking of inviting you to stay with her in the country.”

  Whitney stilled. “Go to Twilit Hill?”

  He nodded. “You could paint to your heart’s content. It’s very lovely there and I’m happy to send you along with all the supplies you’d ever need for a comfortable stay.”

  “So you do wish to be rid of me?” She sighed. “As much as I would like to oblige her, Acton lives nearby so that is one strike against the idea of a prolonged visit.”

  “But not his sister, and for that you should be grateful.” He put the paper aside without having read any of it. “Tell me, what exactly is it about Acton that bothers you?”

  Whitney rolled her eyes. “Would you like a list drawn up?”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I find myself uncertain if this has anything to do with his past disagreements with Miranda or something else. Has he been rude to you?”

  Whitney drew in a long breath.

  “He seems to ignore your snippy remarks easily.” He leaned toward her. “And yet you still continue to sting him whenever you meet.”

  Whitney swallowed. “You’ve a fanciful imagination. Are you going to see Miss Hedley today?”

  “Don’t change the subject.” He caught his cousin’s hand in his. Since they rarely touched without the benefit of gloves, he was surprised to find her hand ice cold. He lowered his voice. “Has he done something worse?”

  She shuddered and slipped from his grip. “Why ever would you think I’d encourage that man?”

  “I don’t know but if he’s ever bothered you, I promise I will deal with him.”

  “Don’t you dare.” She shook her head. “Besides, there is nothing to deal with. He’s a disagreeable man with an overly inflated notion of his appeal.”

  He didn’t like her answer but he couldn’t very well force her to be honest with him. “Very well, perhaps the visit to Miranda’s isn’t feasible but do think about it. With the anniversary of her wedding approaching, she’s eager for company. And as for your earlier question, I’ll see Miss Hedley at dinner tonight. Remember to be on time so we are not late for the Ettingtons.”

  “Yes, about that. Given the robberies going on, shouldn’t one of us stay at home just to make certain we are not a target? I’m happy to volunteer to stay behind and keep the lamps lit.”

  “What would you do? Paint their faces until they confessed?” He laughed. “We couldn’t be a target since I’ve not hosted more than an intimate dinner in the past three we
eks. I will not cower at home. I won’t give the thieving bastard the satisfaction of keeping us from going out.”

  ~ * ~

  Iris inched closer to Lord Louth as they entered the Ettington dining room side by side, more than a little afraid of her surroundings. After the elegance of the drawing room, she was rather astounded by the view. “Is there a reason behind Lord Ettington’s collection?”

  She glanced up at the walls of the Grosvenor Square mansion and did her best to hide her dismay. Broadswords and stuffed animal heads lined the walls of the dining room that should have been elegant, considering the marquess’s distinction, but were certainly not.

  Louth laughed softly as he held out a chair for her to sit in. The tips of his fingers slid across her back as she settled in the chair. “A distraction left over from his days as a bachelor. He never wanted female guests to become too comfortable in his home. His wife doesn’t care for them either but hasn’t pressed for their removal. Not yet at any rate.”

  They were positively grisly. She lowered her voice further. “I’m sure his plan worked amazingly well.”

  It was still working. She wasn’t sure how she would manage to eat a bite with the blank accusing stares of those creatures on her as she ate their brethren. However, she did not know which was worse—the stuffed heads or the marquess’s cold regard. His welcome upon her arrival had been decidedly chilling. He knew what she was here to do. Meriwether had relayed Ettington’s agreement that she could leave an east drawing room window unlocked tonight.

  So far, she’d been too terrified to move in that direction and had already missed one obvious opportunity to slip the latch open. She didn’t want to do this to Ettington. She’d never wanted anyone to be stolen from or hurt. But for her father’s safety, in order to catch Talbot in the act so he might be stopped, she had no choice but to go along with Meriwether’s plan. Esme gave an encouraging smile from her spot across the table but it didn’t comfort her in the least.