“God, yes,” he murmured, as if her response spurred him on. Testing it, she repeated the process and was rewarded with a moan from him.
His ministrations increased until stars formed before her eyes. The muscles deep in her abdomen tightened, tension built within her, and she tried to pull away, but placing a hand on her belly, he held her still. Suddenly weightless, she would have floated to the ceiling if not for the firm hold he had on her, or perhaps the death grip she had on the bed. Then her limbs seized, her eyelids lowered, and she began to tremble. Only as the tremors eased and she returned to a more natural state did he pull away. He stroked her thighs, helping to calm her before easing her dress down her legs.
When she opened her eyes, he lay beside her, staring at her with an odd light in his eyes. “So, will we suit?”
Unable to face him, she draped an arm over her face and said, “Holy hell, we will suit.”
Chapter Five
Andrew stood in the entry hall of Miranda’s aunt’s townhome. Though it was not in the fashionable part of London, no one would think less of the living quarters where she resided. Yet, to say her Aunt Sarah had been put out by his appearance would have been an understatement. He, of course, still needed to put together who had knowledge about the betrothal agreement. He damned well needed to get to the bottom of what was going on. Heads would be rolling.
Not that it mattered. The evening before had proven to both he and Miranda that marriage would be the most prudent course of action.
For the first time in his life, he understood chivalry. He might have had a full-blown cockstand for much of the night, but he had done nothing about it. As his future countess slept the sleep of the sated, he’d laid next to her, watching and marveling at the turn his life had taken in a few short hours. He had instructed that his carriage, empty at the time, sit in front of her house early in the morning, then be taken away shortly afterward—a ruse to make any early bird believe he had simply come calling and taken Miranda for a ride, once a believable amount of time had passed.
He and Miranda had then arrived at her home at a decent hour that would make any neighbors believe she had left for a morning stroll with a suitor. Returning to her steps in the arms of her betrothed might have raised an eyebrow, or, in the case of Sarah, two, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no way she could maneuver the steps on her own.
Left to cool his heels in the front hall since arriving over a half hour earlier, he wondered how long Sarah would allow her spite to overrule her good breeding, and how much his virginal lady had told her.
“Madame will see you now,” the liveried footman announced, waving toward the stairs and up to the first floor of the house. “Second room on the right.”
“Thank you.” Andrew climbed the dark, wood-paneled staircase to the sitting room. Tapping lightly, he waited only a second before opening the door.
Sarah glared, but, too well-bred to do more than that, she curtsied prettily before bowing her head. “Milord.”
“Madame.” He nodded his head before turning his attention to Miranda, currently ensconced on a chaise lounge in the corner by the window, with her elevated ankle under a blanket. He winked, reveling in the blush that quickly covered her cheeks. “Miranda.”
“Andrew,” she whispered, a secretive smile forming on her lips.
“Milord, please be seated.” Sarah indicated the chair next to Miranda. “I have ordered some tea.”
“Thank you, tea is much appreciated.” Feeling he had given her the respect due, he turned his attention to Miranda. “How is your ankle, my dear?”
“Much better, milor…Andrew. Thank you for inquiring.”
Clearing her throat, Sarah commanded his attention. Once she had grown past her dislike of him, he thought they may become great friends. He liked her already. “My niece filled me in on a few items. She tells me though you tended to her injury all evening, you didn’t take her maidenhead.”
“Sarah!” Miranda sat straight, disrupting the pillows around her on the chaise.
Andrew raised his hand to calm her, picking up one frilly lace pillow, which had fallen to the floor. As she was literally surrounded by pillows he had no idea where to place it and finally gave up, placing it on the window seat behind him. “She is correct. I didn’t take advantage of the situation,” he replied. Even though I wanted to.
Sarah nodded with approval. “She also informs me you were not aware of the betrothal agreement.”
“I was not.”
She leveled her keen brown gaze on him. “How can this be so?”
“I wish I knew, exactly—”