Page 20 of The Valentine Skates
When he climbed back onto the high seat on the sleigh, both Lili and Emily beamed bright, but strained, smiles his way. “All right, my lovelies, tell me what’s wrong.”
Lili went first. “I’m afraid Emily is a little tired from all the excitement and the cold. Nothing so wrong that a warm cup of cocoa and a blanket by the fire with Tiber can’t fix.”
He took back the reins from his groom and flicked a small whip once young Jemmy had climbed into the wagon with the rest of his men. The work horses started up slowly, huffing a bit and straining against their traces as the heavy Yule logs began to slide through the snow behind the wagon.
Once the wagon had moved away toward the manor, Frederick made a clicking noise with his tongue and the sleigh horses sprang into a trot. He guided them in a few, wide, fast circles until Emily giggled, and then he settled them into an easy trot back home.
Lili murmured a low hum of pleasure and raised her leg higher until Frederick caught her foot and kissed the small indentation just above her delicate ankle bone where he knew exactly how to lick and kiss his way up her calf until she shook with pleasure and begged him to make love to her.
Every time she sneaked into his bed chamber in the middle of the night, he vowed he’d make her leave until they were legally joined and no one could tear them apart. But each time she climbed with stealth onto his bed and took his cock into her mouth while he still slept, his body had other ideas.
On the nights she appeared, time seemed to slow with each act of love becoming more urgent and heated. This night, the stakes were higher than ever. Wembledon literally overflowed with some of the biggest gossips in Mayfair who’d been invited to the Christmas house party. All it would take would be for one of them to be prowling the halls of Wembledon and encounter Lili when she returned. That would be the end of everything they’d worked so hard toward for the last month.
Once they’d pleasured each other for the third time, he sat up against the pillows and pulled her with him, using his longer arm length to keep her sensual hands and lips at bay.
When she turned as if to suckle him again, he pulled her hard against his chest and tipped up her chin to force her to listen. “You have to marry me. This mad game we play every night is not going to end well. Someone will catch you out when you sneak back and forth between Wembledon and Weyford. Or God forbid, you might be accosted some night and I won’t be there to protect you.”
Her only answer was to dodge his hands and plant a sensuous kiss on one of his nipples.
He pushed her away sharply. “Devil have it—what if Emily were to have a bad dream and catch you creeping through the halls of Weyford?”
She squirmed to a cross-legged position directly in front of him in the dark of his bed. “Then I would suggest that since tomorrow is the farewell masquerade, you will have to make an honest woman of me in front of all those respectable denizens of the ton.” She placed a soft finger over his lips. “I must warn you, though, that once we announce our engagement, you will be stuck with me for eternity. I’ve reached the limit of scandals that one woman is allowed in polite English society. I’ll never be able to get away with crying off.”
He didn’t answer because by that time he’d dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to where she sat cross-legged. He itched to see how she tasted that way and how long it would take to make her fall apart and call his name when he thrust his tongue inside her.
Chapter Thirteen
Twelfth Night Masquerade
January 5, 1821
Wembledon, Surrey
Frederick whirledLili past Howick and Mrs. Withers in time to the musicians’ fast-paced waltz. She’d begged her mother to allow the scandalous dance for the masquerade, since the costumes allowed her the freedom she’d never had before to enjoy dancing in the arms of the man she loved.
Of course, no one would even blink, because Frederick was disguised as a very tall sheep, and she as his shepherdess, complete with a ridiculous frippery of a ruffled dress, matching hose and a shepherd’s hook. She couldn’t resist giving him an occasional push with the long staff on their way across the cavernous Howick ballroom toward the refreshments lining the long tables at the rear of the dancing area.
“It’s damnably hot in here. How much longer do we have to keep these masks covering our heads?”
“Midnight, my love.” She gave a short hiccupping laugh at his discomfiture. “Midnight.”
“Why? What happens at midnight?”
“That’s when I unveil my furry hero, and my brother will announce our engagement.”
“How much longer? I can’t even get to my pocket watch inside this hairy prison.”
“Another hour. That’s all. Surely you can survive that long?”
He was silent for a few long moments before finally tilting his furry mask to the side as if he were considering a weighty question, which would look dignified, if only he were not disguised as one of his own contrary rams.
“I’ll survive only if you stop prodding me with that stick…and, I don’t have to dance one of those interminable waltzes again where I have to spin like a top.”
“Done. I’ll pour you a glass of Cook’s rum punch, and we’ll find a quiet corner where we can sit while I feed you cake and help you drink the punch.”
They had no more than settled in to a pair of chairs near a secluded corner when a reveler dressed as a vicar approached them. Saints above—hewasthe vicar. Emily’s grandfather blocked any possible escape and bent low toward Frederick.
“The two of you think you can avoid shame by hiding beneath those ridiculous costumes.” He fairly hissed in disdain. “Frederick, you’re a disgrace. Have you forgotten who you are? Your responsibilities to my granddaughter? Whereisthe poor girl? I suppose you’ve left her in the care of that simpleton nanny.”