Page 14 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
“Owen,” Xenia interjected, placing her hand atop his, stilling his words. “There is nothing to regret. That moment... it was unexpected, but not undesired. If you recall, I incited the entire escapade.”
A soft sigh escaped him as he absorbed her words, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. His features, previously tense with concern, now held a playful mien that matched her mood.
“Tell me then,” he teased, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly grin. “Who was it that left a deeper impression on your heart?”
Xenia bit her lower lip, feigning contemplation. The warmth that crept into her cheeks belied the calm she tried to project. “Oh, Mr. Bishop, a lady mustn’t reveal all her secrets. Where would be the fun in that?”
“Ah, so you keep us both guessing.” He chuckled, his voice carrying the warmth of the assembly hall they had left behind. He leaned in closer, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “Perhaps I should strive harder to tip the scales in my favor.”
“Perhaps,” Xenia whispered back, the single word laden with provocation. Her heart raced, echoing the rhythm of the distant music that filtered through the walls of the assembly hall. The idea that he could do anything better made her damp in certain places.
She gnawed her lower lip as images came to mind. “Owen...”
“Zee,” he responded, his tone rough with need. His lips found hers, capturing her mouth in a kiss that immediately had her remembering their lovemaking. His hands grew bolder as they roamed her body, lifting her gown past her knees, exposing the stockings beneath.
The cool night air brushed against her now-bare thighs, but it did nothing to quell the heat that Owen’s touch ignited. As he kneeled before her, their gazes locked. Xenia saw the hunger in his brow, an echo of the fretful emotions that surged within her own breast.
His fingers trailed over the bare skin above her stockings, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. He cupped her cunny and his thumb began a slow, deliberate dance over the sensitive nub of her pleasure.
“Oh, lord, Owen,” she gasped, her hands clutching at his shoulders for support. Her world narrowed to the sensation of his tongue as he parted her folds and circled the bud with the tip, while his fingers pursued a relentless exploration inside her.
She trembled, quickly on the edge of something wondrous, her mind awash with sensations. Xenia fought to remain silent, knowing the thin veil of night was all that shielded them from discovery. Her efforts came in ragged breaths, each a struggle as his mouth drove her closer to the brink.
And then she was there, quivering around his fingers, her climax washing over her in waves of exquisite relief. She pressed her hand over her mouth to muffle her cries, her eyes squeezing shut as ripples of pleasure coursed through her.
Owen’s grunt of satisfaction vibrated against her flesh, a primal sound that spoke of his triumph in bringing her such ecstasy. He looked up at her, smiling as he gently withdrew his fingers, leaving her to catch her breath in the quiet aftermath of their stolen intimacy.
When he stood, she reached for the fall front of his breeches, but he drew back, his gaze holding hers as he caressed her side, over the curve of her hip, and along the softness of her thigh. The unspoken question hung between them like a charged current. She wanted to please him as he’d just done.
Owen whispered, “We’ll find time—soon. Just us.” His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, soothing yet igniting a new yearning within her chest.
Her lips parted to speak, yet no words came, only a nod. Her fingers grazed the rough stubble along his jaw in a tender acknowledgment of the deep connection that pulsed between them. “Promise me,” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Upon my soul,” he vowed, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist.
With a shared glance that sealed their secret, they straightened their attire, erasing any evidence of their tryst. As they walked back toward the warmth and revelry of the assembly, Xenia’s gait was lighter still, if that could be possible.
As Xenia entered the room beside Owen, she noticed Simon watching from across the crowded space, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Butterflies stirred at the sight of him.
He was frowning as he approached them. “Ah, there you are. I feared the fairies had spirited you away. Did you forget our dance?”
“We merely took in a breath of fresh air,” Xenia replied, feeling as flirtatious as ever. Her gaze flitted to Owen, looking for his reaction to his rival, before she turned back to Simon. “And of course I didn’t forget our dance. The next set is yours.”
CHAPTER NINE
The heat of anger or frustration flooded Simon’s body when Xenia reentered the assembly room, leaning lightly against Owen. Her cheeks were rosy, her breath slightly uneven, judging from the rise and fall of those luscious breasts—signs not missed by any man versed in the language of desire. Simon’s jaw clenched, knowing that Owen had seduced her, and worse, knowing he had no right to complain.
He took in every detail. The way her black hair, earlier neatly coiffed atop her head, now had a few rebellious strands framing her face. How her eyes sparkled with mischief and satisfaction, more than at ordinary times. The curve of her smile, suggesting secrets only she and Owen shared. Each observation was a thorn in Simon’s side, stoking the embers of jealousy into a blazing inferno.
Yet, beneath the jealousy, a deep longing twisted his heart—a yearning not just for Xenia’s body but for her affection, her laughter, her everything. He couldn’t sit back and watch her find happiness with another man.
Was that wrong of him? To wish to interfere with her happiness? He didn’t want to take away her joy, but merely change its source. He longed to be the one who brought joy into her life.
“Xenia,” he called out. She turned, her gaze finding his, and for a moment, time seemed to pause. When she smiled, his breath caught.
“Simon, you’ve decided to grace us with your presence on the dance floor?” She laughed lightly.
“Only if you’ll do me the honor,” he replied, offering his hand with a bow.