Page 31 of A Sporting Chance (The Chances #8)

There were books, yes, but books about archery.

Books about the history of archery, of archery around the world, of the technique of famous archers and the stance that amateurs could ape.

There were notes about archery scattered all over a console table—from one glance, Kathleen guessed that Leopold had been noting down his success rates.

And there, on the wall beside the cabinet of arrows, was—

“My word.”

It was difficult to have any other reaction. The painting was truly spectacular; clearly, the Chance family had commissioned one of the greats, because the landscape was truly beautiful, rendered so exquisitely that Kathleen rather thought she could step into it, should she so wish.

But it wasn’t the landscape that had taken her breath away. No, it was the figure in the foreground, before the Grecian temple.

He was an archer. He was tall and handsome, with hair that appeared to blow in a slight breeze. He was holding a bow and arrow so naturally, so elegantly, it was as though he had born to it.

It was also, most unmistakably, Leopold.

“Ah,” said Leopold.

“What a magnificent painting,” Kathleen murmured, stepping up to it and placing an almost shaking hand on the frame. “You… You look otherworldly.”

“My cousin painted it. She was desperate for a model and I eventually gave in. Well, my mother volunteered me. Voluntold , as she put it,” said Leopold hastily, speaking at a normal volume. Evidently, no one could hear them from here. “It’s daft. I wouldn’t allow my mother to hang it downstairs.”

“But you look incredible.” She could hardly understand why he would not want such evidence of his handsome features and his talent with the bow downstairs. “And you said your cousin painted it? He is very talented.”

“She.”

She .

And for some reason, that gentle correction whirled a rush of panic in Kathleen.

She. A lady artist, someone who clearly had to paint family members, not strangers or models, because otherwise there would be a scandal—and here she was, standing in the bedchamber of a gentleman to whom she was not married!

True, she would be…but that did not excuse this behavior!

This was the Chance family. Anything that occurred with them was instant gossip fodder, and she would be that fodder if she was found here.

Was she truly about to make the very same mistake her sister had?

“I should go.”

The three words slipped from Kathleen’s mouth as she stepped to the door, skirts swishing, dread pouring through her veins, but she was unable to open it.

That was because Leopold had his hand against the door.

“Leopold—”

“Look, I can understand why you would want to leave,” he said hurriedly, “but—”

“Are you truly going to keep me prisoner here?”

Just one moment’s look in his eyes told her the truth.

Leopold swiftly removed his hand from the door.

“I didn’t mean—I know this invites scandal.

But I love you, I want to marry you—I will marry you.

And waiting to experience the most delectable joy, the most intimate connection, merely because of a piece of paper and twenty minutes inside a church… ”

Kathleen swallowed. There was such hunger in Leopold’s face, though it was not a possessive hunger, but a fierce one. One that demonstrated he knew precisely what he wanted.

And he wanted her.

Leopold reached out and moved the handle, opening the door a few inches.

“You can go. Of course you can go. But I want you to stay. I want to kiss you all over and worship you for the beautiful woman you are. I want to put my hands on you, and pleasure you, and show you the smallest glimpse of what being my wife will be. And if you don’t want that now, I will understand.

And I will still marry you. The pleasure can wait—I will wait for you. ”

Kathleen’s breath shortened.

It was perhaps the most incredible thing anyone had ever said to her. And he had given her the choice.

Well. It was hardly a choice, was it?

Slamming the door shut with one hand and grasping Leopold’s lapel with the other, she gave in to the longing that had been cresting her desires for so long.

And he responded. In truth, it appeared he had only just been able to hold himself back from tugging her into a tight embrace.

His kisses were fire pouring down onto her lips, but they did not remain there for long.

Kathleen gasped as Leopold’s lips trailed to her ear, pressing heat onto a place that made her quiver, before descending.

The descent led to an ascent in carnal delight pouring through her, flickers of bliss quivering through her limbs.

Oh, it was hardly possible that she was still standing, yet his strong arm around her waist prevented her from falling as Leopold teased molten kisses almost the hem of her gown.

Only when Kathleen whimpered, pulling him closer, did he laugh and carefully place an almost reverential kiss on her décolletage.

His kisses did not remain reverential for long. Kathleen moaned and wove her fingers in his hair as Leopold lavished devotion in the form of teasing kisses and nibbles over the swell of her breast.

“Leopold…”

Kathleen had not intended to moan his name, but that did not seem to matter. It was tugged from her lips because of what his hands were now doing. Cupping her buttocks with one, the other was doing something noticeably odd with her skirts.

Her skirts?

Almost too late did she realize what he intended and Kathleen’s eyes widened as Leopold’s hand disappeared under her skirts. Her knee, her thigh, her—

“Leopold!”

He halted, lifting his panting head, which appeared muzzy with desire, and grinned. “Did you want me to stop?”

Kathleen opened her mouth, closed it again, then managed, “But—But I didn’t think this was how it was done.”

“You’re going to like this,” he said with such confidence, it was difficult to even consider arguing with him. “And if you don’t, I’ll stop. I promise. Just give it a sporting chance.”

It was impossible not to smile at such a request, most ridiculously put. “You are a fool. You do know that, don’t you?”

Leopold’s lopsided grin caused the ache between her legs to ripple. “Only with you. Ready?”

Kathleen nodded, though precisely what she was supposed to be ready for, she did not know.

His right hand was right by her secret place, her warmth surely now tangible to him, yet he did not appear disgusted or dismayed.

Indeed, his ribcage was shortening, his pupils dilated, and his lips returning once more to her neck.

When he whispered, low, urgent, desperate, Kathleen closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation of his breath on her neck and his fingers slowly brushing over her curls.

“You see, my love, when an archer knows precisely the target that he wants to hit, he does not always aim directly for it.”

“He… He doesn’t?” Kathleen whimpered.

“Sometimes he goes…near it.”

It was all she could do not to cry out as Leopold drifted a finger along her crease. The sudden spasm of boiling pleasure was almost as unexpected as it was welcome.

Kathleen gripped his shoulders, her knees weak. “Leopold—”

“And then he examines the target,” he murmured, pressing a kiss on her neck. “Just to make sure it’s the target he wants.”

A finger—a single finger of his had somehow slipped inside her and despite the pain Kathleen had expected, there was nothing but soaring hedonism. His fingertip had brushed past a nub within her that when touched had shot a bolt of unadulterated ecstasy through her.

It was over just as instantly as it had begun, but the stroking within her continued and it felt most delightful.

Kathleen gasped, trying to think of something to say, something to contribute, but it was all she could do to stay upright.

“And when an archer knows precisely where the target is, he…practices,” Leopold murmured.

She could not help but whimper with sensual bliss as he slipped a second finger into her, delving deeper, stroking her, caressing her and causing such waves of satisfaction that she was hardly sure how she was still upright.

And still that first finger danced so delicately close to her nub, his target, that she wanted to weep. “Please…please, Leopold—”

“You want me to hit the target?”

“Please—”

“I’ll encircle it first,” he murmured, lowering his head to her breasts and licking, teasing, kissing through the soon damp fabric of her gown as one finger stroked inside her and the other slowly, slowly, slowly circled the aching nub that demanded relief.

Relief, it appeared, he would not give.

There was a pressure building inside her that Kathleen did not understand but knew only Leopold could release, and she could have sobbed as she clung to him and abandoned herself to the pleasure—and yet it was not enough.

“Leopold, now, now!”

“Here comes the arrow.”

It was like blowing apart from the inside out. Somehow, his tongue had meandered below the hem of her gown and had found a nipple, and as he brought it into his mouth and tugged, his fingers within her finally pressed hard and swirled around that precious nub.

Kathleen cried out, not caring who could hear her, not caring if the whole world knew that Leopold Chance was pleasuring her.

Her body roared, arching against him, quivering with unanticipated decadence, and as the pieces of her finally slowed and softened and Leopold brought his fingers out of her, she opened her eyes to stare in wonderment at this man. This man who could do anything.

He could certainly do anything he wished to her.

“That… That was…”

Leopold hummed, evidently delighted that he had given her such exquisite ecstasy. “There’s more.”

Unquestionably, there was more. There had to be more. Kathleen was aware they had not done what she had expected two people to do together, but…more? More pleasure?

Her knees managing to hold her, Kathleen accepted Leopold’s kisses as he slowly undid the ties of her gown, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor.

She had not worn a corset this evening, having re-dressed herself quickly after initially heading to bed.

Stays, stockings, all were slowly and lovingly removed by the man she adored.

What was most impressive, however, was how he managed to do so and remove most of his own clothes as well. When Kathleen blinked, coming to herself, it was to see that Leopold had divested himself of jacket, waistcoat, shirt, and boots.

Naught but his trousers stood between her nude body and his own.

She watched him swallow, his throat bobbing, and felt her body tingling. This may not have been entirely new to him, but this moment was—this sharing of himself. Of themselves, with each other.

Slowly, without taking her eyes from his own, Kathleen lifted her chemise with trembling fingers over her head. Though the eye contact was lost for but a moment, it was a relief to restore it.

It almost helped her to forget that she was now naked.

Leopold’s eyes were wide and he almost fell over as he rapidly pulled his trousers off and stood before her.

Kathleen stared.

Well . It wasn’t as though she had never known what was beneath a man’s trousers. She’d been to the British Museum, after all. They had a whole heap of naked statues, not that Angela had approved of them visiting.

But this was… Well. So much… more .

“I love you,” he whispered.

And the moment of shock was gone, replaced with nothing but affection. Kathleen reached out and took his hand, surprising herself in her boldness as she led Leopold to his own bed. “And I love you.”

They ended up in a tangle of quivering limbs, touching and tasting and kissing to the point where she hardly knew where she ended and Leopold began. Somehow, he twisted her onto her back while he remained nestled between her knees and—

“Oh!”

Kathleen arched her back, expecting pain but feeling nothing but pleasure as Leopold speared into her, his manhood thrusting true into her very core.

It was a reminder of the elation she had felt as his fingers had entered her, but this was deeper, and darker, and all the more delicious.

“Kathleen? I have not hurt you, have I?”

She looked up to see Leopold’s concern and could have kissed him—would have done, in fact, if she had been able to reach him.

“You are not injured?”

When she spoke, it was in a strangled voice. “I soon will be, if you do not bring me to ecstasy again!”

And it was laughter and kisses that Leopold rained down as he moved into her arms, leaning on an elbow as he withdrew almost all his manhood then thrust forward, an arrow unleased from a steady bow again and again and again, and Kathleen whimpered as the waves began to build.

His kisses, his touch, the safety of their love, their affection for each other, and the knowledge that such heights of bliss would soon be reached—it was all too much.

Kathleen clung to Leopold’s shoulders. “It’s happening again, it’s—oh—oh, Leopold!”

And her body spasmed, clinging to him, keeping him as tight and as deep as possible, and he swore as his body twitched, the careful and measured movements becoming frantic and faster, until he was pouring himself into her and Kathleen could do nothing but hold on for dear life.

Then Leopold collapsed into her waiting arms.

“Kathleen,” he moaned, nuzzling his head on her neck. “Oh… Oh, Kathleen…”

She held him, knowing this moment was just as much a part of becoming one as all the rest. And when she pressed a kiss against his cheek Leopold lifted his head and met her lips, and it was everything. He was everything. This would be every part of their future.

Their future together.