Luck Is No Lady(61)
The tenuous moment was interrupted as several voices drifted out into the night from the ballroom. They would not be alone on the terrace for long. Before Emma could turn her head to see who was stepping outside, Roderick took her hand in his.
“We have not finished this conversation,” he muttered beneath his breath as he led her from the private alcove and down the stairs into the darkened garden.
Emma did not resist.
She was filled with a near desperate yearning for him, an unrelenting desire to prove herself more than a sensible spinster, to revel in the excitement of not knowing where he would take her or how it all might end.
Hand in hand, they sped down the garden path, turning first this way, then that, until they came upon an arbor tucked along the high stone wall. Honeysuckle flourished there, and its sweet perfume filled the air. Roderick drew her with him until they stood against the wall where only tiny bits of light from the house filtered through the foliage. He urged her back until her shoulders met the rough stone, following her until his body held her there.
Emma tipped her chin to look up into his shadowed face. “I thought you wanted to talk,” she challenged in a breathless whisper.
“This first.” He lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was consuming and fierce. His palms flattened against the wall on either side of her head as he leaned into her. She loved the solid weight of him pressing her back, shortening her breath, holding her secure as her legs went weak. She wrapped her arms around him. The layers of evening wear muted, but did not completely eliminate, the heat of his body and the taut lines of muscle along his spine.
Emma tangled her tongue with his, not caring that they were not far from hundreds of partygoers, concealed only by the foliage surrounding them. Should someone else seek to enjoy the private solace of the garden, they could easily be discovered.
In that moment, she had no concern beyond the amazing wealth of feelings she experienced in Roderick’s arms. The rush of blood through her veins, the heat blooming deep in her center, the stark need that had her fisting her hands in his coat.
He stepped into her, his feet braced on either side of hers so she could feel the strength of his thighs. Lowering his hands, he grasped her hips and lifted his mouth from hers. Emma looked up at him with her breath moving swiftly through her parted lips. She really hoped he wasn’t stopping. She would give anything for him to keep kissing her right then.
The night shadows kept her from being able to read the expression on his face, but the strong line of his jaw did not bode well.
“I seem destined to play the cad with you.”
His voice was rough and deep. Emma hoped it was because he was feeling the same relentless craving she was feeling.
She lifted her hands to slide her fingers around the back of his neck. “I do not mind,” she murmured as she rose up on her toes and pressed her breasts to his chest. His hands tightened around her waist, but he did not resist. She brought her mouth within a breath of his and demanded softly, “Kiss me again.”
He did not comply right away, and a delicious tension swirled in the spaces between them.
“You make a dangerous request,” he replied darkly.
“Perhaps,” she whispered, “and tomorrow I am sure to question my sense. But right now, I cannot bring myself to care. I want you more than I have wanted anything in my life.”
His response was a low growl from the depth of his throat. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him.
The faint glow of the moon reflected a flash of possession in his gaze the instant before he took her mouth with a hunger that stole her breath. Her entire being hummed with new and wonderful sensations. And when he shifted again to press his hard, muscled thigh between her legs, heat pooled low in her body. She wanted to push against him, to feel more of him there. And then he grasped her buttocks in his hands and pulled her hips toward him. Her thighs parted around his and he leaned hard into her to press intimately to her center.
The contact sent her senses spinning and she turned her head to gasp for a breath. He made another low sound as he took the opportunity to blaze a trail of kisses down the side of her neck to the softness of her breasts where they strained over the edge of her bodice. Keeping one arm wrapped around her low hips to hold her firmly against him, he lifted his hand to palm her breast. She did not realize how much she ached for his attention there until she felt the pressure of his fingers gently kneading.
His adept ministrations intensified the sensation consuming her, until they swirled with delicate focus to where she rested so heavily, so wonderfully on his thigh. She moved her hips against him, and the change in pressure sent a spear of pleasure through her core. A quiet moan escaped from her throat as her limbs tensed.