Page 32 of Ruby in the Rough (Heiress #4)
Two days later…
C hristian pulled Cordelia behind the heavy drapes in the secluded passageway at Lord and Lady Austen’s ball. He silenced her giggle with a searing kiss, hauling her against him and drinking every delicious sound that she made.
His body, hard and eager, would not be denied and he turned her about, her back pressing to his chest. He reached for the bodice of her gown, wanting to feel her, touch her sweet flesh.
“You feel so good.”
She moaned as he clasped one breast, teasing her through her silk gown, rolling his thumb and forefinger around her nipple.
“We’ll have to be quick.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her words breathless.
He ripped his falls open, and his engorged cock sprung free. He reached down, hoisting up her gown as she leaned against the wall for support. She undulated against him like a wanton minx and the blood in his veins turned molten.
“Christian.”
He could hear the need in her words. He surged against her sweet, wet flesh and thrust hard, taking her with a severity that made his head spin. She gasped, reached back to hold him, and he thrust again, wanting to sate the sweet ache that rarely left him when he was near his wife.
She’d captured not only his heart, but his soul, and he could not get enough of her. He reached around with one hand, teasing her little nubbin, rolling her sex with slow, rhythmic strokes.
She murmured her delight, her words mumbled and undecipherable, but he understood. Knew what she wanted, and he would give her everything that she wished. He pressed on, continued to take her, to tease and stroke. She was so moist, and there was little doubt she would soon shatter in his hold.
He leaned in close to her ear, relishing the sound of her breathlessness. “Don’t scream too loud, duchess. The guests are but a hallway away.”
“Mmm, I do not care,” she answered. “Christian, harder.”
He did as she bade, and his balls tightened. He was close and would not last much longer. He increased his teasing, and closed his eyes as the first, strong tremors of her release clutched his cock and drew his own release forward.
“Oh yes, Cordelia,” he moaned, riding through his own pleasure as he stroked hers to the very end.
“Christian,” she gasped, “Do not stop.”
He did not. He continued until they were both spent, their breathless gasps mingling in the confined space. His attention moved to the gardens, and he hoped they were shadowed enough that no one taking the air outside had seen them.
Not that he cared too much what the ton thought, but Cordelia did and that was all that mattered.
He pulled out and shuffled her gown back down before righting his own clothes. She slumped against the wall, watching him with an amused grin on her face. “Perhaps it would be best that you didn’t attend every event that I do, not if you’re unable to behave yourself, Your Grace.”
He tightened his cravat and peeked out into the passageway, finding the space free of people, he pulled her out of the window alcove. “I disagree. I’ve found a new way to enjoy them and I’m quite unwilling to forgo life’s little pleasures.”
“You’re incorrigible.” She slipped her arm about his and he drew her close as they started back toward the ballroom. “I cannot believe the Season is ending. Only a month left and then we’ll leave London. How quickly the time has gone.”
“True,” he agreed as they walked back into the ballroom. “Your sister Lady Isabella is alone, should we go stand with her?”
“Yes, of course.”
They came to Isabella’s side and seeing a footman nearby, Christian summoned him for wine, before passing both Cordelia and Lady Isabella a glass each.
He allowed the ladies to speak, and stood behind them, catching a word here and there before a hand clapped him on the shoulder with force. “Walpole, I heard congratulations are in order. I’m sorry that I missed the wedding, my brother Benedict tells me it was a lovely day.”
Christian turned to find Lord Whitmore at his side, his jovial friend like a ghost he’d not seen in over two years. “Whitmore, you’re back.” He clasped his friend’s hand and shook it. “It is good to see you back in England. We did not get word that you were to return.”
“I thought it time, but traveled before my letters,” Whitmore’s gaze dipped to Cordelia before moving on to Isabella. “Lady Isabella…” The marquess cleared his throat, smiling a little. “And tell me, are you too now married? I have much to catch up on.”
“Whitmore, let me introduce you to my wife, the Duchess of Walpole, and her sister, Lady Isabella, whom you seem already acquainted with.” And if Christian wasn’t mistaken, a little surprised to see.
“A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace, and good to see you again, Lady Isabella. I’ve missed our sparring.”
Ahh, so there was a history between the two. His attention snapped to Cordelia, who was looking between Isabella and the marquess with interest before meeting his. She waggled her brows, and his heart tumbled all over again.
He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless, right here and now. He refrained, of course, society would never approve.
“A shame, my lord,” he heard Lady Isabella say, her tone nonplussed. “I have not missed you at all.”
If there was one thing Chrisian could sense it was a lie, he’d tried long enough to ignore the truth of what was happening between him and Cordelia and could sense it on others without fail.
“Care to dance, Your Grace?” he asked his wife, holding out his hand.
“That sounds lovely, Duke.” She slipped her gloved hand into his and he led her out onto the dance floor. “Maybe your sister’s Season is not at an end, but the beginning.”
Cordelia glanced back at the couple still standing where they left them. “I do believe Isabella was a little shocked and you never see her so.” She paused as he pulled her into his arms for a country dance. “I think you may be right.”
“I think I may be right too.” And before he could think better of it, he leaned in quickly and stole a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips before straightening.
A pretty rosy hue spread across her cheeks. “I love you too, you rogue.”