Page 27 of An Earl Like You (Games Earls Play #6)
Chapter
Fourteen
H er eyes were the deep blue of a thousand oceans at once, the morning sun behind her lighting up her fair hair like a golden halo, and it was everything Cass could do not to fall to his knees for her.
But Hattie was no angel, and neither was she the child from his memories. She was a living, breathing woman, one who needed to be kissed.
Often, and only by him.
But not yet, when everything remained unresolved between them still, and not here in the middle of Lady Fosberry’s rose garden, not when her ladyship or Hattie’s sisters might come searching for them at any moment.
He sucked a frantic breath into his lungs, his heart dancing wildly behind his ribs, and waited for her to decide his fate.
“I lied to you, Cass. I didn’t come to London for the lecture or for Sir Joseph, or for the season.” She took a step toward him and rested her hands on his chest, over his heart. “I came here for you.”
He’d guessed it, but to hear the words from her lips was everything he’d ever needed. “Thank you, Hattie.”
If she hadn’t been so close, with the honeysuckle scent of her hair teasing his senses and the warm drift of her breath against his cheek, he might have been able to keep from touching her.
But resistance was impossible in the face of such temptation, and logic and reason were no match for such overwhelming desire.
“I love you, Hattie.” He brushed a golden tendril of her hair away from her cheek, his lips hovering over hers. “I’m yours, heart and soul. I’ve always been yours.”
“Oh, Cass. I love you, too.” She curled her fingers into his waistcoat, her blue eyes soft as she gazed up at him. “I thought…when you stopped writing to me, I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“No.” He brushed his fingers over her lower lip, closing his eyes at the soft whimper that escaped her. “Never, Hattie.”
“I…” She swallowed, her gaze dropping to his lips. “I missed you, Cass. When you left Kent, and every year afterwards, I missed you so much.”
His hand drifted from the rosy silkiness of her lips to the white column of her neck and throat, his control slipping with every inch of her skin sliding under his fingertips.
He wanted her, more than he ever thought he could want anyone, and for this one stolen moment, they were alone, and she was gazing up him at with sleepy blue eyes, as if she were waiting for him to kiss her…
One kiss. One kiss only, and then they’d go in search of Lady Fosberry.
Her lips parted, her kiss a gift for him alone. He took her mouth gently in a sweet, chaste kiss, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was ever enough with her.
“Hattie.” He dropped an open-mouthed kiss behind her ear before trailing his lips lower, his tongue slipping out to taste the soft skin of her neck and teasing the fragrant hollow at the base of her throat.
“Oh, my. That’s…it feels…” A soft, pleading sound left her throat as she twined her arms around the back of his neck, her fingers toying with his hair. “It makes me feel all shivery.”
He chuckled, his lips brushing her earlobe. “Shivery is good, isn’t it?”
“Yes, very good.” She grasped his shoulders, her head falling back and hectic color blooming in her cheeks as he pressed another lingering kiss behind her ear.
“Look at me, Hattie.” He caught her chin in a gentle grip and turned her face up to his, gazing down into blue eyes so wide and trusting he was overwhelmed with a tenderness that made his throat ache. “Let me see you.”
She cast him a shy glance from under her lashes, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and God, he wanted to touch her everywhere, to stroke every inch of her soft skin until she was aching for him, writhing for him, her slender body taut in his arms. He wanted to pull every pin from her hair until those thick curls spilled into his hands like a golden waterfall.
He wanted to see her, to learn every alluring curve and hollow of her, to lay her across the smooth silken sheets of his big bed, kiss her sweet pink nipples and taste the damp folds of skin between her legs until she was crying out for him, her hips undulating against his mouth as he brought her to climax.
He wanted to take her, here and now among the roses, their heady scent clouding his head and Hattie’s cries echoing in his ears. She’d fall apart for him so sweetly, his name on her lips as she reached her peak with her hips moving in rhythm against his.
She was so soft, her mouth so soft and hot and open for him…
Just one more kiss. A final stolen kiss, then he’d take her back to the house.
He dropped damp kisses down the side of her neck until she was trembling for him, her eyelids heavy and her lips parted on a gasp, and it wasn’t enough—no matter how much he had of her it would never be enough.
“We should return to the house, Hattie.” Now, before he forgot he was meant to be a gentleman. “Lady Fosberry will be wondering where?—”
She sank her fingers into his hair and gave a sharp little tug.
Cass groaned, his hips shooting forward at the delicious twinge of pain. Dear God, did she know what she was doing to him? She was driving him mad with her sweet, innocent caresses, the seductive press of her body against his.
“Hattie, we can’t?—”
“Shhh. We’ll return to Lady Fosberry soon. Soon, Cass, but not yet.”
He let out a defeated groan and nuzzled his face into the fragrant hollow of her shoulder, the faint hint of honeysuckle making him dizzy with desire. He would die if he didn’t kiss her again.
Just one more kiss…
He caught her face in his hands, their breath mingling as he lowered his mouth to hers. The instant their lips touched the smoldering spark between them caught alight, and he tugged her closer, his arms closing around her waist.
It might have gone too far—it would certainly have gone too far if the crunch of carriage wheels coming up Lady Fosberry’s drive hadn’t penetrated his fogged brain.
Carriage wheels? Who would be visiting Lady Fosberry now? It was much too early in the day for callers, with the sun only having crested the horizon several hours earlier.
But there was indeed a carriage on the drive despite the early hour, a fine, navy blue one with gold fittings and shiny black wheels, and it was moving at such a brisk pace, the horse’s hooves had kicked up a thick cloud of dust behind it.
“Oh, dear God.” Hattie was watching the carriage’s approach with wide eyes. “For pity’s sake! Of all the hours in the day he might have arrived, why did it have to be right now ?”
“Hattie?” Cass didn’t recognize the carriage, but he’d caught a glimpse of a crest on the door. “Who is it?”
The carriage reached the top of the drive and came to a screeching halt in the circle at the bottom of the steps that led to the front door.
One of the carriage doors flew open before the driver had a chance to descend from the box, and a tall gentleman in a handsome black greatcoat leaped out, a walking stick clutched rather threateningly in his gloved hand.
There was something familiar about him. Cass had seen this man before, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d?—
“Lord Windham!” The deep voice carried across the drive. “Be so good as to unhand my sister this instant, if you please! What do you mean, mauling her in the middle of Lady Fosberry’s rose garden?”
His sister ? “Er, Hattie, is that?—”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Hattie blanched as the man stalked across the drive toward the garden gate, every inch of him quivering with fury. “My brother Johnathan has arrived in London at last.”
“Let me see if I have this straight.” Johnathan paced to one end of the drawing room, paused, then marched back in the other direction, the heavy thud of his boots punctuating every word. “No sooner did?—”
“Perhaps it would be best if you put your walking stick down, Lord Melrose,” Lady Fosberry suggested calmly. “You wouldn’t want to accidentally strike someone with it.”
“Or not so accidentally,” Sarah muttered under her breath, stealing a glance at Cass.
Johnathan ignored them and resumed his pacing. “No sooner did Emmeline and I leave for Oxfordshire than the three of you absconded to London without a word to anyone. Do I have that right?”
Hattie glanced at her sisters, but Margaret and Sarah were both staring down at their hands as if they’d never seen anything as fascinating as their own fingers.
But it had been her idea to come to London, so perhaps it was only fair that she accept the brunt of Johnathan’s wrath. “In a manner of speaking, yes, although I must say I think the word abscond puts it in a much uglier light than?—”
“Imagine my shock when I ran into Lady Peregrine in Oxfordshire, and she told me what a delight it was to have met my charming sisters at Lady Featherington’s garden party in London.”
“Lady Farthingale’s garden party,” Sarah corrected. “Her name is Lady Farthingale.”
“She may as well be Lady Rattletrap for all the difference it makes!” Johnathan threw his hands in the air. “I kept insisting to Lady Peregrine that she must be mistaken, that my sisters were in Kent until at last it dawned on me that perhaps you weren’t in Kent, after all!”
“Oh, dear.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “How terribly embarrassing for you.”
“Embarrassing?” Johnathan pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I didn’t have the least idea my own sisters were in London!”
“Now, my lord,” Lady Fosberry began in a soothing tone. “It’s not as bad as you make it out to be.”
“No? Forgive me, my lady, but I find it troubling indeed that my sisters left Melrose House without my permission! Without my knowledge, even! What in God’s name were you thinking?”
“It’s not as if we were here in London alone,” Margaret said. “Lady Fosberry has been taking very good care of us this entire?—”
“That’s another thing! You had no business involving Lady Fosberry in this wild scheme of yours!”