The Unlikely Lady (23 page)

“Yes,” she breathed.

*   *   *

That was all Garrett needed to hear. He pulled Jane's arms above her head and wrapped the cravat around them, securing them at the wrist. Then he wove the top of the material around the settee's open wooden arm. He made a tight knot. He'd never been so thankful for his army training before. He might not be a sailor, but damned if this knot wasn't good enough for his purposes.

Jane's eyes sparkled, but a hint of apprehension lurked in them. He didn't want her to have any doubts.

He kissed her temple. “If you want me to stop, just say so.”

“It depends,” she breathed, her gorgeous chest rising and falling. Garrett couldn't look away. He wanted her naked and writhing beneath him. But tonight he'd settle for caressing those gorgeous breasts.

“On what?” he answered, his voice muffled as he kissed the tops of both.

“On what you intend to do with me.”

His mouth met hers again in a fierce tangle. Then he pulled away and his gruff voice sounded in her ear. “I intend to make you come.”

Jane closed her eyes. “You … you do?”

“Yes. Do you know what that means?”

All she could do was nod. “I've…” She bit her lip. “I'm very well read.” She turned to the side.

“Let me assure you,” he said, as his fingers made quick work of the buttons on the back of her gown. “This is one thing that's
much
better to experience than to read about.”

Jane twisted to help him unbutton the gown. He pulled it down to her waist. Her stays and chemise were all that remained between the two of them. “I'm quite sorry for this,” he said, just before he pulled something from his boot.

“For wh—”

The quick flash of a blade before her eyes told Jane he had a knife. He sliced her stays down the middle in one quick maneuver. She sucked in her breath, hard. How had he done that so quickly and effortlessly? Were rakes trained in this manner? Impressive, to be sure.

Still bracing himself on one elbow, he peeled away the remnants of the stays and then slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, he cut the straps of her chemise, first off one shoulder, then the other. His finger traced the line of the fabric where it hovered just over the tips of her nipples. She shuddered.

“Garrett, please.”

The knife dropped to the carpet with a soft thud. His hot mouth fell to the exposed skin above the shift. “That's right. Say my name. Beg me.”

*   *   *

Jane closed her eyes and arched into his hot mouth. This was the most erotic thing that had ever happened to her. Not that bluestocking spinsters had much occasion for erotic things to happen to them, but suffice it to say she was glad she'd asked this man to meet her in the upstairs drawing room tonight.

“Garrett, please,” she whimpered, closing her eyes, feeling every touch, every kiss, every lick with every bit of her soul.

His lips moved lower, nudging the fabric away from her breast. Jane gasped. His wet mouth covered her nipple and … sucked. Oh, God. Yes! She clenched her jaw and twisted her head to the side. The pleasure was exquisite. So good. So, so good.

His mouth and teeth tugged at her while his hand came up to play with the other peak of her breast through the fabric of her shift. Somehow the soft scratch of the fabric with his thumb flicking back and forth made her mad with wanting. “Please,” she begged.

“Please what?” he murmured against her scorching skin.

“My other breast.”

His smile burned against her. “What do you want, Jane?” He moved his mouth an inch, two. “Do you want my mouth here?” He flicked his thumb against her sensitive nipple again.

“Yes. Please. Now.” She tugged at the bonds that held her hands above her head. He gave her what she wanted. His mouth scorched across her nipple and Jane closed her eyes and moaned.

Why was this so incredible? Who knew that being trussed up like a hare while the most handsome man in the world did amazingly sensual things to your body was this much fun? None of her books had taught her
that
.

But she wanted to touch him, wanted to run her fingers through his dark hair, pull his mouth up to hers, wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, kiss him again.

His mouth tugged again and again on her breast. His thumb flicked achingly back and forth against her other nipple. She moaned again and strained against the bonds.

“Easy,” he said hotly against the soft flesh of her breast. “We've barely got started yet.”

Her breath left her body in a whoosh. Her eyes rolled back in her head. “Barely even—” Her breath was a rush of heat and lust.

“That's right.” His grin was positively wicked.

One hand left her breast while his hot, wet mouth still tugged at the other.

She shuddered as his free hand moved down, down, down, outlining her legs beneath her silvery skirts. He found the bottom of the fabric and flipped it up, his hand moving slowly back up her leg, along her stockings, only this time it skimmed along the hot skin of her inner thigh.

A tremor racked Jane's body.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
He was going to touch her.
There.

His hand slowed as it made its way unerringly toward the juncture between her thighs.

She tugged against her bonds again, but it didn't matter. She wouldn't have stopped him even if she could have. It was delicious torture to be unable to touch him. Instead, she mentally begged him to find just the right spot.

And he did. Oh, God, he did. His finger stroked against her once, twice, before settling between the slick folds and finding the—sweet Jesus—
exact
right spot. Jane bit her lip. Her hips arched off the settee.

His mouth never ceased its gentle assault on her nipple and a pressure built between her legs. Ecstasy shot down from her breast, making the exquisite torture worse, much worse.

His finger slowed, then stopped.

“No,” Jane cried out.

Then the tip of his finger touched that perfect spot again, the one that made her eyes roll back in her head. “Yes, Garrett, yes,” she breathed.

“Yes, what?” he murmured against her breast, nipping at her skin.

“Yes,
please.
”

His finger circled that spot, again and again, while her hips rocked in a rhythm she was completely helpless to stop. She strained against the bonds that held her wrists, her teeth clenched, her eyes closed.

“God, Jane, you're so hot. So hot and wet and—” He groaned. His erection pressed tightly against her outer thigh. She wanted to rip her bonds away and reach for him, feel him, stroke him. But the circling of his finger couldn't be denied. She arched her back again, pressing her breast more fully into his demanding mouth.

Her breath came in short, shallow pants as the pressure between her legs built. “Oh, God. God,” she cried, twisting her hips away, but Garrett followed their movements with his finger. He didn't allow her to break their contact.

“Garrett, I can't—” She bit her lip, her head turning fitfully from side to side.

“Yes you can,” he whispered huskily against her neck. The stubble along his tight jawline was abrasive against the softness of the top of her breasts and that was driving her slowly mad too.

His finger continued its relentless assault, again, again. “Garrett!” she called, just before she spiraled into oblivion, a feeling unlike any she'd ever known consuming her body.

*   *   *

When Jane finally surfaced from her haze, she realized that Garrett had pulled down her skirts and was tenderly unwrapping the cravat from around her wrists. They were a bit sore, but deliciously so. He rubbed them individually and carefully pulled her hands back down to her sides. He gathered one of her hands in his, brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. He was still breathing heavily. He pressed his slick forehead to hers.

She reached for his hips, wanting to feel his erection, but he pulled her hand away, pinning it over her head again. “No,” he said huskily. He kissed her again fiercely. “Not unless you want me to take you tonight, right here on this settee.”

Truthfully, she'd considered it for a moment. If him taking her on this settee was anything like what he'd just done to her, she was definitely interested. But that would complicate things. Complicate them a great deal. Instead, she kissed him back. The man had just given her the most amazing moments of her life. A kiss in return seemed inadequate.

“That was … incredible.” The word seemed insufficient, even to her own ears.

“I'm obsessed with your perfume,” he murmured. His breathing was still hot and heavy in her ear. He kissed her there, running his tongue along her earlobe, and she bucked beneath him again. Gooseflesh covered her neck and arms. Oh, what this man did to her.

“So?” he asked, nuzzling beneath her ear.

“So?” she echoed, barely able to discern his words with his mouth still on her skin.

“What do you think?”

Her eyes were still closed, but she had to smile at that. She took a long, shuddering breath. “You're right,
so
much better than reading a book.”

“And?” he prompted.

“And it seems rakes
can
teach bluestockings a thing or two.”

She felt his answering smile against the skin of her neck.

“Furthermore,” she added, clearing her throat self-consciously. “I think we're going to need to do
that
again.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I'm not entirely certain I caught all the nuances in that first lesson. I may need remedial work.”

He captured her mouth with his again. “Happy to be your tutor.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Jane sat next to Lucy in the second row of the quaint, stone village church for the wedding of Lady Cassandra Monroe to Julian Swift, Earl of Swifdon. The weather was glorious—cool and bright—for the ceremony that was held at ten o'clock in the morning. The vicar stood in front of the crowded pews, his white vestments gleaming and a broad smile on his face. No doubt his little church hadn't seen this much excitement since Cass's own parents had wed.

“She looks breathtaking,” Lucy whispered to Jane, tears in her eyes. “Look at me, I'm crying already.”

“She does look beautiful,” Jane replied in a whisper. Indeed, Cass was magnificent in a glorious white and silver-beaded gown with a long train and a matching veil. “Thank heavens, the red spot on her nose disappeared.”

“Yes, quite courteous of it, was it not?” Lucy said with a laugh.

Julian looked every bit the handsome soldier turned earl in his dashing military dress uniform.

Cass's mother, Lady Moreland, sat in the front row. The woman nearly convulsed in a fit of joyous tears while her husband tried to comfort her.

“At least she'll stop hating me,” Lucy whispered to Jane from where they sat in the row behind the Morelands. “I may have married a duke, but the Swifdon title is far older and more prestigious than Claringdon's. That must be why she's crying.”

“I resent that,” Derek said from beside his wife. Lucy elbowed him.

Jane gave Lucy a warning look but couldn't entirely stop her smile.

“What did your mother say when you told her Mrs. Bunbury had to leave this morning?” Lucy whispered.

“Shhh,” Jane countered. Her mother was sitting just two spots away, on the other side of her father. Jane lowered her voice even further. “I told her Mrs. Bunbury had been overcome with a fit of heat yesterday and had compounded that error by eating something that did not agree with her.” Jane smiled slyly. “She's well on her way to London by now.”

Lucy pressed her lips together and nodded. She, too, kept her voice especially low. “I'm ever so glad to hear it.”

Derek eyed the two ladies skeptically and shook his head.

It was true. Now that Mrs. Bunbury had been dispatched, Jane was happily free of her first and biggest problem. Her second problem, Mrs. Langford, remained of course, but that woman didn't frighten her. Now that Jane knew what the widow was capable of, she intended to stay well away from her. After tomorrow, when all of the houseguests returned to London, doing so would be quite simple. Mrs. Langford might have declared her intentions toward Garrett, but if there was any doubt as to where Garrett's affections lay, he'd proven them to Jane last night.

Jane took a deep breath and concentrated on watching Cass and Julian standing up at the altar together declaring their love for each other. It was beautiful, truly. The smile on the faces of both the bride and the groom declared to the entire assembly how deeply in love they were. Lucy was crying. Even big, strong war hero Derek looked a bit choked up. Jane had never been one to cry. Her stiff upper lip was something of which she was particularly proud, but listening to Cass and Julian take their wedding vows did tug at her heart.

The vicar's voice boomed through the church. “Julian Nicholas James Swift, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Jane caught her breath. The back of her throat burned. She'd never experienced anything like it during a wedding. Lucy made a sobbing noise and Derek patted his wife's knee.

Julian's eyes shone with love and pride. “I will,” he intoned.

The vicar turned to Cass. “Cassandra Elizabeth Louisa Monroe, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”