The smile faded from her lips, and she swallowed. “A gentleman wouldn’t make such a threat.”
“A lady wouldn’t press her luck, as you are clearly determined to do.”
More than anything, he wanted the taste of her on his tongue, in his blood, her scent pumping through his veins. He released her wrists and shifted his weight off her, then flicked his chin in the direction of the chaise lounge. “Sit down.”
“And if I refuse?”
“You knew what you risked by coming here, Miss Weatherfield. Sit down or leave.”
Perhaps he was wrong to push her, but he was angry that she’d seen something he’d worked so hard to keep concealed. His obsessions, the rituals he was compelled to perform, couldn’t be revealed to society. If anyone discovered the truth, his business ventures, his seat in Parliament, his sister’s marriage prospects…everything he’d worked so hard to build would be threatened.
She didn’t hesitate, which astonished him. Not even the obligatory three-second pause, which women of breeding were wont to take. With a challenging look in her eye, she moved to the chaise lounge and sat down, perched on the edge of the cushion. Prim and proper in her pale pink morning dress and white slippers.
“You must think I’m mad.”
“Yes, completely.” She didn’t even flinch. “And don’t attempt to deny it. No man cares so obsessively about the state of his breeches. No sane man, that is. And as for the lock on the door, well, what sane man is ever that thorough? None, I tell you.” She lifted her hands. “So there it is. You are a paradox of complexities.”
She was blunt. He liked that.
“I was uncivil last night.”
She tapped a finger against her chin, contemplatively. “You need not fear on that score, Your Grace. I will see that you suffer for it—I do have my duties to uphold as a lady, after all. What credit would I be to my sex if I did not see you sufficiently disciplined?”
Impertinent little minx. His lips twisted, imagining all the different ways he wanted to discipline her. Tilting forward, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her close, his lips hovering just inches from hers. She stiffened against him, her hands flattening against his chest to push him away, but she didn’t.
He pulled away. “Lean back.”
She blinked up at him, her lips plump, ripe, her cheeks flushed. “Why?”
He shook his head and brushed a thumb across her cheek, absorbing the silky softness of her skin. She was perfection. “You will do as I say, or leave. The choice is yours.”
Chapter Four
She was going to hell. That was the long and short of it, the plain, unadorned truth of the entire matter. And God help her, she didn’t care a whit. There was just something about Nicholas Montgomery that tugged at her soul and refused to let go.
Drawing in a strengthening breath, she leaned back, not at all relaxed as she attempted to appear. “Well,” she said. “What is it you plan to do with me?”
He keeled and flashed a wicked grin, then pulled her foot onto his lap. Tugging her slipper off, he caressed the arch of her foot. Strong, powerful hands kneaded her toes, and she instantly started to relax, her muscles unclenched, and the tension slowly eased.
After several long moments, he placed her foot on his shoulder, his hand skimming boldly up the curve of her calf. His touch was gentle, feather-light, and it sent tingles of pleasure rushing through her.
“From the moment I saw you, I wanted to possess you,” he said in a barely-there whisper that trickled down her spine and spread like fire through her veins. “I wanted to spread your thighs and watch you come.”
Oh, yes, he was wicked, indeed. His words had the most unsettling effect on her body. Everywhere he touched, she burned, ached, and tingled all at once, and she found herself wanting more. So much more.
She shifted as his hand traveled up, gathering her skirts around her hips. Gently, he rolled her white silk stockings down, one by one, exposing her calves to his hungry gaze.
Embarrassment swamped her. No one except her maid had ever seen her unclothed, and his intense scrutiny made her want to squirm.
“Christ, you are so beautiful,” he said.
Leaning down, he kissed his way up her calf, to the inside of her thigh, making her shiver. Then he kissed the very center of her, sliding his tongue along the seam of her sex. “Oh,” she said, her body curving off the chaise lounge. “What on earth are you—?”
Her words were cut off the moment he slid his tongue inside her. A rush of heedless pleasure washed over her on the first thrust of his tongue. Sweet mother in heaven, she hadn’t any idea, truly! Threading her fingers through his thick hair, she tugged him closer. Her hips arched, then lowered, and then arched again with each rhythmic stroke.