Page 12 of The Lady (Daughters of Dishonour #3)

A whirlwind seemed to be the only right way of describing what Philip was feeling.

Every kiss and every touch convinced him that this was precisely what Flora and he should be doing.

Yet there was such turmoil all around him—everything he had planned out, in an attempt to make his life neat and ordered, nagged and twisted at the back of his mind was gone…

until she kissed him again. Her tongue curiously explored his mouth, all velvety temptation and he knew nothing that felt this wondrous could ever be entirely bad.

Most of Flora’s clothes had already been pulled off her and discarded, and in the light from the handful of candles by the bedside, he caught glimpses of her beautiful body.

Lithe and elegant, her slim frame was as graceful as he’d always imagined.

He was strangely pleased to note the beauty mark by her left breast and the curve to her stomach—pieces of her body that cemented her as something real and not merely an imagined being.

Seeing her blush, he pulled the many blankets up and over them, as if they would huddle under these protective layers and hide themselves away from the real world forever.

Slowly, he kissed his way from her inflamed cheeks, down past the hollow in the base of her throat, tasting salt and warmth and the faint enduring scent of jasmine about her.

“Tell me what pleases you.” His voice was deeper, huskier than he could remember it being in quite some time.

His trail of kisses led him to her breasts, administering to each in turn with as much attention and care as if he never meant to leave them.

It was gratifying to hear the little mews and witness the wriggly innocently sensuous movements of Flora’s hips as he led her down an erotic pathway, learning all the while, what caused her delight.

Slowly he dipped lower, tasting, licking, and kissing his way down to the proud weave of curls at her sex.

His finger dipped in first, parting her wet flesh, feeling the lush dampness coat his skin of his knuckles and fingers.

The smell of her was just as intoxicating as the rest of Flora, all-absorbing, luring him closer, tempting him to have a taste, to linger, and to try.

As his lips parted her sensual, pink-tipped ones, he felt triumphant to hear the low mewing noise increase. Flora’s hands flexed and tightened in his hair, pulling and holding him close.

With tentative, seductive kisses he started to savour the rich taste of her core.

Exploring her deeply, encouraging her to gasp and cling to him as his right hand moved to easily find its way into her narrow shaft, stroking in and out before lifting and playing with her hidden pearl.

As his mouth nuzzled against that little jewel, Flora rewarded him by shuddering.

Her body shifted, tensed, and she shouted out a half moan, half command of encouragement.

It was the sweetest sound Philip could ever remember hearing.

Breathy, earnest, and eager—how they had sought to ignore the pull between them, but it existed, nonetheless.

He had divested himself of his trousers during the last few minutes, and when he crawled back up, their gazes level, he stared into her grey eyes and hoped she was as ready emotionally as she was physically.

“Flora?” There was a note of pleading, of need, of affection in his voice as he kissed his way over her pale skin. Tasting as much as he could of Flora.

“Between Elsie and Margot, not to mention some of my married friends, I know what to expect.” Her hand slipped between them, alighting on his member and guided him closer.

As he nudged inside her, Flora’s hands lifted and grasped tightly onto his shoulders, holding on to him.

It was not just the sensation of entering her, inch by inch, that excited him, but the trust she put into her fingers as they gripped him and the unfocused look in her eyes of growing awareness as she watched him.

She was a marvel, and he was blessed beyond belief to hold her so.

“Some women can experience pain, but not all, not if they are ready. Is that…” He could not find the right words to ask her or to check, but it did not seem he had to because she was already nodding.

“It is most perplexing but nice, good, better than—” There was a hitch to her voice that made him smile. When Philip laughed at her response, the movement caused the momentary smile to alter as sensation rippled through her.

“I am supposed to move,” he said against her lips, starting slowly to rock deep within her.

The seductive movement sent shivers through his frame.

The tension was deepening and gripping his body, in a way that threatened his control.

Tested him as he secured his hands above her head and rocked into Flora, watching her dazzled reaction grow more animated as the feelings latched on to her.

With Flora’s hands still on his shoulders, she started to lift her hips in a mirror of his movements.

The rhythm came and went as they learnt to shift upwards and pulse downwards at the right time.

But it was the laughter that slipped from his mouth which seemed to heighten every joyous sensation, every kiss, and every touch.

How had he not snatched her up before and down a hundred times?

Snaking his hand away from her head and between their bodies, his fingertips sought out the little pearl at the top of her sex.

Stroking it once more, Philip watched in fascination as his body claimed her, and Flora floated free.

Her neck arched back, her bitten lips parted, and a jubilant gasped outcry issued forth from her.

The grip of her nails into his back were sharp for one brief moment as her inner sheath tightened entirely around him, and Philip lost himself inside her.

His own cry joined hers and then blackness claimed him.

It was morning when Philip made himself face what had occurred the night before.

At least in the comforting dark and quiet of the previous evening, it had just been the two of them.

Now in the harsh realities of daytime, as they headed onwards to Langley Manor, he could no longer pretend it was nothing.

Surely, Lady Flora had to consider themselves engaged? The problem was, of course, his mother’s threat.

“I suppose you will want to call on the steward’s wife,” Lady Flora was saying.

It did not help that, since he had torn her chemise yesterday, she was dressed in a green day gown, sans the undergarments, and now all Philip could think of was the pure silk gilding over her bare flesh.

It was very tricky to focus on her words.

“I have forgot the poor woman’s name. But whilst you are there, I should probably make my way to Margot and ensure everything is made ready for our arrival. ”

“Turbot.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“My brother’s steward, he is called Turbot.”

“Is that not a type of fish?”

“I believe so.”

“Unfortunate your mother has not hightailed it with the salmon. That might be less scandalous. A better thought of fish.”

“Indeed.”

“Oh, dear that was a joke. It might have been an especially good one, but I was trying to lighten the mood,” Flora said, leaning closer, “Are you quite yourself, Philip?”

He was a damned cur. That was what he wanted to tell her. He was no better than his brother or mother. Of course, he wanted to do the honourable thing, but should his duty to fix his mother’s affair mean he sacrifice all to mend the dowager’s mistake?

“I am looking forward to reaching the manor house,” Philip said, sounding as stuffy as he possibly could. His punishment should be that he be made to walk the rest of the way, but to his surprise Lady Flora simply nodded.

“Yes, I often feel that way about the Langley Manor. There is something so homely about the place. Which is strange given its size.”

Philip doubted she would feel this way when he finally mounted up the courage to show her his mother’s letter, and how the dowager’s affair was threatening the security and tranquillity of the Manor.

Or would it be better shown first to his brother?

Or even Lady Langley—who might have some feminine advice he had not previously considered.

The letter seemed to fidget where it lay in the confines of his jacket pocket, and not for the first time, Philip cursed his mother for the unfair hand she had dealt him.

Despite this, Lady Flora interlinked her fingers with his and leant on his shoulder seemingly unconcerned by his attitude, and they passed the next few hours in relative silence whilst he tried desperately to think of a suitable answer, that would not involve abandoning the woman he had just made love to.

The lady who’d fairly enthralled him, and who he doubted he would ever be able to forget.

“There we are.” Her voice was low and a touch throaty, and Philip had to look away from Flora to where she was pointing out of the window.

In the distance, he could see along through the trees the shape of his brother’s palatial manor house taking shape.

Its white stone facade glinted majestically, light from the summer sun glistening of the creamy stones, and the grand lake just before the mansion house.

Their carriage carried them onwards down the path until they were before the opulent front steps, surrounded by the jutting sides of the building.

Next to him, Flora straightened and put some needed distance between the two of them. As Philip stepped outside, he was surprised to see Margot emerge onto the front steps, her pregnant stomach proceeding her, in her wake came a harassed young matron, who looked decidedly worse for the wear.