Page 20 of Diamond of the Season (Heiress #1)
Chapter
Twenty
R osalind sat in the carriage and held on to Lord Issacs as they made their way around the park. The day was clear with a blue sky and not a breath of wind. The park was full to the brim with people taking the air, having picnics, or, like herself, enjoying an outing with a gentleman admirer.
Lord Issacs spoke of many things. The conversation was not at all stilted, although most of the topics pertained to himself, his horses, and his estates. She was almost thankful when he turned the carriage for home, and they headed back toward Grosvenor Square.
The man was a kind gentleman, but unfortunately she did not feel an ounce of excitement when around him. The only time it was amusing was when the duke was nearby and she could tease His Grace that she was on an outing with another man and not himself .
"I do hope we can ride again, Lady Rosalind. I found your company most pleasing, and I hope you did in return."
"That would be most pleasant, my lord.” Although right at this moment Rosalind could not think what else they would speak about. The weather perhaps, or the state of the roads leading into London from Hampshire? “I shall wait eagerly to receive my invitation for another ride about the park,” she said, remaining polite.
"Very good."
Once home, his lordship jumped down before turning to help her alight. Even when she took his hand there was no jolt of awareness, no longing that tore through her and Rosalind could definitely state that his lordship was not for her.
"Good afternoon, my lord," Rosalind said, waving him off as she stood at the door with her maid before heading inside. "I do not think I can bear going out again with Lord Issacs. If I hear any more about him or his horses, I believe I shall know him better than he does."
Her maid laughed and covered her mouth with her hand. "He did indeed speak much on the subject, but perhaps he was merely nervous."
"He could have been, but I did not think the outing would ever end. I do not think I like him any more than a friend."
"Lady Rosalind." The duke's commanding voice startled her and made her jump. Her maid started up the stairs toward her room, leaving them alone in the foyer.
"How did the outing go with Issacs? I hope he was on his best behavior?" the duke asked, watching her keenly.
"He was," she replied, hoping that the boredom creeping into her tone was not noticeable. She cleared her throat and attempted to sound more enthusiastic. "He's very nice and such a gentleman. He wishes to escort me on another outing soon."
"Well, that is good news."
She attempted not to frown but knew she had failed. "I did not think you would find such information pleasing, Your Grace. I did not think you wished me within a foot of the man."
"Well, that was the guardian coming out in me, and nothing else. I do not want to see you ruined before you can make a great match."
Rosalind wanted to stomp her foot. What was it with the duke who ran hot and cold? Why could he not run hot all of the time? He was much more malleable when warm.
"You've said that before, but do not worry, Your Grace." She moved closer to him, ensuring privacy. "I will not allow Lord Issacs the liberties I've allowed you. My reputation in that regard is safe."
She smirked and turned to leave, but before she could move toward the stairs, he clasped her hand and dragged her into the dining room. He slammed the door and pushed her hard against it.
Rosalind gasped, yet her body came alive, burned, and ached almost the moment he touched her. She clasped the lapels of his coat and relished the sight of his wild, uncontrolled gaze that slammed into her and made her feel everything she had ever wished for.
The man teetered on the brink of losing control, and she wanted to push him over that precipice to see what would happen next. His fingers spiked into her hair, lifting her gaze to meet his. He dipped his head so that his lips were but a breath from hers. She could almost taste his sweet lips. She had been dreaming of kissing him again since the moment he left her room, which now seemed like eons ago—far too long between such delectable interludes.
"I cannot think straight when I'm around you," he murmured.
She ran her hand down the lapels of his coat and slipped them around his waist. His body was warm under his jacket, and she could feel the tension as he fought what he desired and what he believed to be honorable. Yet there was nothing dishonorable about desiring a woman, especially her. She wanted so very much for him to kiss her .
Would he already and cease this longing that ripped her in two?
"Then do not think at all, Nathaniel." She pressed herself against him, even though he held her firmly against the wall. Her lower body undulated against his, seeking the release he had given her a taste of the other evening.
Her actions seemed to snap his control, and his body responded, hardening against hers. His hand slipped around her bottom, cupping her cheek, his fingers flexing against her flesh before he wrenched her close.
Rosalind gasped. She could feel everything—his hardness pressed against her like a rod. Truly wanton, Rosalind hooked her leg around his hip and assisted him teasing where they both ached and sought release.
"Damn you, Rosalind." His lips brushed hers, and she sought more of his kiss before he pulled back. He ground his manhood against her sensitive, weeping cunny, and she moaned, her fingers clawing into his back. "The things I want to do to you. If only you knew, you would flee back to Hampshire."
"Or I may not," she whispered, undulating against him, her body not her own, so focused on gaining release and feeling the exquisite sensations of coming apart in his arms. She needed to feel that again. She was desperate for it .
He lifted her fully in his arms, his manhood pressed at her core as he slid against her undergarments and teased her, moving her toward release.
"I need to hear you call my name. I'm going to make you come so hard that you'll never look at another man the same," he declared.
Rosalind was already of that mind, regardless of what they were doing at that moment. She could not imagine undertaking such a thing with anyone else other than Nathaniel. Yet, did he understand what he was saying in the throes of passion? She doubted it, or perhaps he would regret it soon after. But she could be patient, and in time he too might see that they were perfect for each other. They certainly sparked whenever they were near to each other, and that in itself was not always so certain between people.
He rubbed her cunny, teasing her. Moisture pooled between her legs, and she held on, desperate for him and everything he could give her. His manhood seemed to grow larger, and she longed desperately to touch him, to tease him and learn every secret about his person.
But there was no time for that now—not here, at least—but perhaps another time when she could corner him in a private location in the house where they would not be interrupted.
"Nathaniel." The moan tore from her as exquisite sensations trembled through her core and throughout her body. Nathaniel kissed her hard, catching her cry with his lips.
"Rosalind…"
He worked against her, his movements frantic but never quite enough. She held on to him, wringing from his person every ounce of her release, wanting to savor the moment forever. His eyes met hers, heavy with desire and satisfaction. She clasped his jaw, desperate to capture his image in her mind so she could forever remember this moment.
"I do not know what I'm doing with you," he confessed.
Rosalind understood his words and his concerns. He was her guardian—a man destined to see her married to another this Season—and yet, right now, knowing everything about the man in her arms, the man who made her feel so wonderfully alive, he was the only one she had ever wanted.
"We are not doing anything wrong, Nathaniel. We are distantly related, and although you are my guardian, we are of a similar age. I do not care what society thinks, and I do not want your fear of their judgments to ruin what is clearly happening between us," she declared.
"And what is that exactly?" He helped her back onto her feet, and Rosalind adjusted her gown, ensuring everything was as it should be.
"Well, I do not know about you, but I like you very much. I know it is bold of me to say, but I have enjoyed our friendship, and I certainly relish how you make me feel. I want you to make me feel that way more often." She stepped close, brushed her lips against his, and felt tension ripple through him. "Don't be scared of me, Nathaniel. I won't bite. I promise."
He closed his eyes, a pained expression flittering across his handsome face. "Christ, Rosalind." He opened his eyes and held hers. "You're driving me to distraction."
She grinned, savoring that she had managed to provoke him. She longed to drive him to the point where he might agree to be one of her gentlemen admirers and, perhaps, even ask for her hand in marriage.
Nathaniel as her future husband would do very well.