Page 9 of My Lady Rake

The next Saturdayafternoon found them sitting in the grass at a park, once again listening to a live musical performance, but this time it was a three-piece brass band. St. Ervan had Verity tucked beside his legs on a tartan blanket, their picnic basket sitting to one side with most of its contents eaten. The scent of her hair distracted him from any of the people around them.

“St. Ervan?” Verity’s voice caught his attention.

“Hmm?” He shifted slightly so he could see her face.

“I asked if you wanted to come to dinner at my friend’s home next Tuesday.”

“Sorry. Yes. Is this someone I’m likely to know?”

“Possibly. Mr. and Mrs. Walter Turner.”

“Hmm. I don’t believe I know them.” Her head was close to his, her face glowing in the sunlight since she’d removed her bonnet at some point. He planted a kiss on her cheek and looked back toward the wooden gazebo where the band played. Sitting this close to her was torture. Every time he was with her, he had to remind himself why they were waiting to make love. What he hadn’t done was ask himself why it mattered with this woman, where it hadn’t with the rest.

He ignored the thought.

His legs were stiff by the time the band wound down, and he felt every one of his forty years when he stood and straightened. All the aches were forgotten when he pulled Verity into his arms. Her lips, full and pouting, begged to be kissed.

So he did just that.

Cupping her curvaceous bottom, he almost ground his hips against her before remembering they were in a public park. Letting his disappointment out in a sigh, he took her hand and led her to his carriage, leaving the picnic for his groom to pack.

As they settled into his carriage, Verity caught his gaze. “St. Ervan, come with me to my house.”

His erection jumped at her request. He studied her, reading what he could in the light streaming through the windows. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “There’s no more reason to wait.”

“Okay.” He had to look out the window to keep from kissing her right then.

“And I don’t think I can wait any longer.” She reached over and stroked her fingertips up his thigh.

He groaned. How quickly could they get home?

Traffic made progress slow, but they eventually reached her town house and exited the carriage.

“Come in,” she said when she opened the door.

Her housekeeper appeared and took her reticule and spencer. Verity told her they wouldn’t need anything from her, then led St. Ervan into the drawing room. “Can I get you anything to drink? Wine, brandy?”

“Wine would be nice, thank you.”

Taking two glasses from the shelf above the crystal liquor bottles in the corner, she set them on the table and took the wine out of the small rack to one side. She nodded toward the couch. “Have a seat.”

He strolled around the room, stopping before a black lacquer cabinet. The doors were painted with a Chinese scene in delicate red, white and gold strokes. “You have interesting taste in furniture.”

“Not terribly interesting. That belonged to my mother-in-law. I haven’t made an effort to replace anything now that—now that I live alone.” She handed him a glass and sat on the settee.

In a matter of moments, something changed in Verity as he watched her. Her shoulders rolled back as if coming to a decision. She strode across the room, set her glass on a table, and pulled him toward her. “Come here.” Her hands slid over his shoulders and tugged him down while she stretched to kiss him.

Her need shoved aside the last of his restraint. Starving for her, he captured her mouth, feasted on the wine on her lips. It wasn’t enough. He gave his hands free rein to explore, unable to satisfy the urge to know all of her. He curved his hand over her buttocks and squeezed the tense flesh. She melted against him, her tongue tangling with his.

Verity’s hands dropped to his waistcoat, fingers slipping between two buttons, teasing their way between the neckline of his shirt and his neckcloth, to touch his skin. He burned where she stroked, then her fingers moved away to unbutton his waistcoat and tug his shirt from his trousers.

He pulled his arms free of his coat sleeves, waistcoat, and finally the shirt itself, tossing them aside, and grabbed the hem of her gown and shift. Refusing to get caught in the rush, he lifted the fabric slowly and stopped as soon as her breasts appeared. He bent and sucked one deeply into his mouth, his tongue kneading the hard bud.

Her gasp went straight to his throbbing arousal.

Lifting his head, he lowered himself to the couch, parting Verity’s legs so she could straddle his lap. He grasped her thighs, feeling her tension. Her skin was so smooth, like silk beneath his hands as his thumbs glided up toward the juncture of her legs. This could go on for hours as far as he was concerned, this getting to know her body.