Page 20 of The Secret Love of a Gentleman (The Marlow Family Secrets #3)

Rob leaned back against the squabs of the carriage, intensely aware of the heat radiating from Caro’s thigh, so close to his.

They shared a kiss…

He had not danced with anyone other than Caro and Mary; he did not like to in case Caro needed him. But that meant he watched her for the entire evening. He was addicted now.

Weeks ago, Uncle Robert asked what Rob’s weakness was. Perhaps it is Caro.

When they reached home, Drew handed Mary and Caro down and offered Caro his arm to walk into the house.

Rob followed, speaking with Mary.

‘I shall retire immediately, if you do not mind?’ Caro said to them all.

‘I will too,’ Mary said.

‘Then I shall retire as well,’ Drew stated.

‘Goodnight, then,’ Rob responded. He was not tired.

He kissed Mary’s cheek as Caro climbed the stairs, and nodded at Drew, then looked at the lone footman, who had waited up for them.

‘I am going to the drawing room and I can look after myself. You may retire.’ He picked up a candelabra and took it with him.

In the drawing room, he stripped off his coat and his waistcoat and set them over the back of a chair, then pulled off his cravat and poured himself a glass of whisky before occupying the most comfortable armchair.

He shut his eyes and let his head fall back.

His blood hummed. Even now, the thought of their kiss made his groin heavy. He was thirsty, but not for the liquor, or any other liquid. It was a thirst to learn more, to find out how things might feel with Caro. He had always deferred to his morals. Always.

But God! I am tempted.

Would she be horrified if she knew what he thought?

He lifted his head, opened his eyes and sipped the whisky, seeking to regain the reins on his desires.

He had never found it hard before. He had been tempted by a barmaid or two, but it was reasonably easy to remind himself of all the reasons to say no.

With Caro it was more than a visceral physical need, it was a close connection that had come from friendship and progressed to…

What? He did not even know what this was, all he knew was he wanted to behave in a way that was nothing to do with friendship.

When they waltzed, he felt the muscle in Caro’s back shifting with her movements, and his mind had imagined the touch of her smaller hand and her lips on his skin.

The door swung open. He looked up, he thought the servants were in bed.

It was his phantom.

‘Caro.’

An apparition in a silk, deep red robe and pure white cotton nightdress walked across the room. Her hair hung in a plait across her shoulder, brushing across her full bosom. His gaze dropped to her bare toes, peeking from beneath the hem of her nightdress.

Desire lanced through his groin. Lust. An emotion Harry spoke about, that Rob had never felt until tonight. Now he understood why it was easy to reject the flirting barmaids.

‘Caro?’

He rose, half expecting her to be a figure of his imagination. He had drunk more than usual tonight.

‘Rob.’ She came closer. ‘I could not sleep and I heard you tell the footman you would be here. Thank you.’ She gave him a smile that lifted her features beyond beauty.

A few weeks ago, he had pondered on how a smile might lift her beauty. Now she had laughed and danced, and he knew.

‘That is what I wanted to say. Thank you for helping me.’

‘It is yourself you must thank. You found the courage.’

‘But I would not have done so without your persuasion.’

Her jet-black pupils were wide, and the hazel rims glittered in the candlelight.

He stepped forward, he could not help himself. His hand lifted and self-discipline deserted him. ‘Caro.’

She stepped forward, the cotton and silk drifting about her, then his hands were at her waist and hers on his shoulders, and their lips touched. The kiss began as a spark and progressed to a fire, whisky burning in his blood and lust clasping at his groin.

He broke the kiss. ‘You should go back to your room. I am in my cups, I do not trust myself.’

‘Why? I trust you.’

He shook his head. ‘Caro, go back upstairs, please. I am feeling weak tonight.’ His words urged her to go and yet his whisky-guided hands drew her closer, so her body pressed against his .

‘I trust you,’ she said again in a quieter voice.

This time, undoubtedly, the lead came from him. His tongue pressed into her mouth in a firm bold stroke as his hand slipped to the curve of her lower back, where it had rested when they danced for the first time.

Her mouth opened wider and her hands told him she was willing as they combed into his hair, and her body pressed against him.

His blood pulsed, heavy in his veins and hard in his groin.

The hunger of lust begged him to be as close to her as he could be.

She broke the kiss. ‘Rob.’ Her fingers combed his fringe from his forehead.

He did not understand this, and his conscience cried out, but when she pulled his lips back to hers he did not heed the thoughts that screamed, stop!

His palms cupped her bottom, his fingertips sinking into soft flesh through the thin fabrics of her robe and nightdress, and he held her stomach and pelvis against his erection.

‘Caro?’ He breathed her name into her mouth, perhaps asking permission, he hardly knew; he had never done this.

His breathing became more rapid as his hand came to her breast. It filled his palm from heel to fingertips, the weight of it resting heavily.

Giddy from lust and the whisky in his blood, his fingers tightened and kneaded her flesh.

Her nipple firmed, pressing into his palm.

Damn it. Damn conscience and morality.

He broke the kiss to look at what he was doing, his gaze settling on the hollow in her clavicle, where her pulse flickered.

He had watched that flicker numerous times tonight.

The amber cross hung a couple of inches below, it lifted and lowered with her breaths.

His thumb touched where her pulse flickered.

The pace increased. He slid her robe off her shoulders, and she relaxed her arms so it slithered to the floor.

Next, he released the small buttons at the front of her nightdress, while she stood still, allowing the intimacy.

Then his fingertips slid beneath the cotton and touched her flesh.

She was warm, soft, and the peak of her firm nipple was like velvet. She shivered when his thumb brushed across it.

God help me. With other women his honour was as strong as iron, not with Caro.

She is my vice.

Her fingers pressed at the back of his head, urging him to bend.

Temptation flared through his blood as though she had knocked over the lantern that carried the fire burning in their kiss, and now the flaming oil flowed beneath his skin.

He lowered his head and lifted her breast to his mouth, discovering the textures of her nipple and skin with his lips, teeth and tongue. His tongue cradled her nipple and he sucked, while her hands reached down and pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers.

It was as though a fever burned between them. He was not alone in his addiction.

Her fingers touched his skin. No other woman had touched him beneath his clothes. He straightened up to kiss her once more, his tongue pressing into her mouth as his hand kneaded her breast and hers swept across his back underneath his shirt.

A soft sound of pleasure seeped from her mouth into his.

Every nerve, every sinew in his body ached to do much more than they were. He wished to press her back, lay her down and lift her nightdress. His hands returned to her buttocks, holding her against him and crushing her soft breasts against his chest .

She broke the kiss. ‘Rob.’ Her voice asked for everything his instinct wanted.

I have not run that mad.

He released her instantly, as though his hands had been scorched, and swallowed back the lump of longing in his throat. He refused to regret what they had done, but it could not go further. He covered her breast, and with shaking, clumsy fingers resecured the buttons.

‘Why did you stop?’ Her expression, and her voice, spoke of fear.

She had voiced her fear of rejection earlier.

He was not rejecting her, only saving her from himself.

His palms braced her head, covering her ears, holding her so she could not run and would look at him. ‘I should not be touching you, I have drunk too much to make the right choice. The kiss, earlier… I am sorry… This should not have happened.’

She stepped back, slipping free from his hands, her skin reddening. Then she turned and fled.

‘Caro.’

The mists of lust swept away and left Caro in an instant. ‘ This should not have happened… ’

Caro was still blushing, even though she was in the dark, alone, as she climbed the stairs.

When she walked downstairs, she told herself it was only to say thank you. Truthfully she wanted Rob to make love to her. The night was so wonderful, she wanted to end it by feeling even closer to him, sharing her happiness and enjoying the experiences of a marriage bed.

‘Caro,’ Rob called quietly from below. ‘Caro. ’

It was mortifying, to be rejected when she offered him her body.

‘Caro, come back.’

Her bare feet brushed on the stair carpet as she hurried up the last few steps, then she ran to her room.