An Improper Seduction (3 page)

“Very pleased, I am sure, Lady Angeline.” He smiled at her with a knowing, provocative look.

Geoffrey reached for her hand and took it to his lips. His gaze fixed on hers, he saw her recognition of the deep scratches on the back of his hand. Scratches she had put there only a short time before.

Lady Angeline blanched, then fire flared in her eyes. She tugged gently to pull her hand away. At first, he did not relinquish it. He wondered if she would make a scene right there.

Finally, he released her hand.

Angeline swallowed hard, choosing not to give the game away. Surely this was not the time to let her father in on the tale. She cast her gaze disdainfully over her molester, taking in the broad shoulders that narrowed to his waist and hips. She noticed his dark, nearly black, hair that held a hint of red whenever the light hit it in just the right way. He had high cheekbones and an incredibly strong chin. Then her scrutiny met dark green, deep-set eyes under thick brows framed by long lashes. An unfathomable flicker in his gaze teased her, as if he knew something she did not.

Ignoring the tightness that returned to her stomach, she composed herself once again and smiled a little too brightly. “My lord,” she said, not wanting to make the meeting the slightest bit pleasant for their guest.

Angus continued, “Geoffrey Chisholm has taken up the estates of Colburn Park since his cousin’s death, my dear. Since the estates are entailed, it is his good fortune and ours he should take up the mantle.”

“Indeed,” said Angeline coolly. “How very nice for you, Lord Colburn. I do hope you will get the estates and all of its properties under control in the very near future. Surely the country bores you and you would rather the entertainments of London.”

She gave the marquess a scornful, knowing look. She would never forget his deep, resonant voice. She knew it was he who had pounced upon her. She swore it would echo through her forever. And the feel of him. She blushed every time she thought of those unbidden moments of intimacy.

Geoffrey returned her glare with a smile and a smirk of his very own. “My lady, I assure you, all things in my hands are under my control. And, I am learning the country has delights I have yet to truly sample.”

The unmitigated gall of the man,
Angeline thought to herself. She couldn’t stand his presence for another second. With that, she turned back to her father. “I am going out to the garden now, Papa. I shall see you in a little while. Perhaps for tea.”

“Lord Colburn is staying for the midday meal, my dear. I had hoped you would join us,” requested her father.

“Nonsense, Papa. You will be all ajabber about estates, cattle, and crops. I have no interest in those things. Enjoy your lunch. Lord Colburn,” Angeline nodded her head as she turned toward him, making it clear she was headed for the door.

Geoffrey was too quick for her. He grasped her hand in his yet again and brought it back to his lips. The fragrances of lavender and sage filled his head—flowers from the meadow. He bent his head to place a kiss upon her fingers but, as he did so, opened his lips to run his tongue over the soft knuckles in his grasp.

He heard her stifle a gasp. He lifted his head as her seafoam green eyes flew to his, the fury in them igniting the air between them.

“Sir.”

She said the single syllable with icicles dripping from it.

As Lady Angeline vacated the library, Geoffrey and Angus returned to their discussion.

“You can see what I mean,” stated Angus plainly. “Cool as a cucumber. Quite possibly the Ice Maiden herself.”

“Oh, I doubt that, Angus. I am most sure she just needs the handling of the right man to bring her round to seeing the way things should be.”

“So do you think you are that man, Geoffrey? Would you be willing to make a go of her?” his host asked with a wily gleam in his eye.

“I just might be, my friend. But only time will tell this tale.”

Just then the butler announced luncheon. The two gentlemen retired to the dining room.

Angeline went out to the garden hoping for distraction. Try as she might, she could not get Lord Colburn and her disquieting feelings out of her mind. Her backside still tingled where the hardness of his manhood had pressed against her. Her stomach had a warm, tight feeling in it that only intensified whenever she remembered the events that had occurred. In her limited experience, no other man had made her feel like this.

Given the chance, could every man do this to a woman? Why in the world did she feel this way? How much more was there to experience? Would she ever have the opportunity? The desire?

With luncheon completed, Geoffrey said adieu to his host, then sought his nemesis among her flowers. It was time to take control of the situation, to move things along further and faster. When his gaze fell upon her, he remained screened by the foliage to watch her work.

She knew what she was about, snipping a dead blossom here, pulling a weed there, cutting a brilliant bloom and placing it in her basket. The more he saw of her, the more he was drawn into her spell. Or maybe he should think it was her web, as she would not be an easy project.

Her garden bonnet was askew, letting tendrils of her red-gold hair fall to frame her face. Her garden gloves were soiled, as was her gown where she had knelt in the dirt to divest the earth of some wayward plant, which threatened the happiness of one of her prized shrubs. Periodically a light tune came to him on the warm spring breeze. She was humming a country ballad as she moved confidently round her garden like a beautiful butterfly sampling the nectar of the blooms.

He would like to sample her nectar, right here, right now. But he doubted Angus would appreciate such an action no matter how much he wished to marry her off. His groin tightened with desire just thinking once more about the feel of her firm derrière against his sex.

He made his decision right then. If he must marry, and of course he must to get a legitimate heir, he determined to have her as bed partner and wife. She would do quite nicely with her woman’s ways and woman’s figure, rounded in all the right places. Soft in all the right places. And a face to look upon that made one think of the angels for whom she was named.

She surely must have a stubborn temperament to have made it through two London Seasons and another twelve years without some lascivious rake or peer in his dotage ensnaring her and reining in her headstrong ways.

He would take a different path to get her. No proper courting for this one. He doubted that would work any better now than it had over the past years. A more unusual approach would be needed. And he was just the man for the endeavor.

Geoffrey enjoyed his view of her, but when she once again bent to pull a weed, his aching shaft could take no more. Surely she had the most perfect arse nature had ever created. And she kept presenting it to his eyes with complete indiscretion.

Did she not know what that could do to a man? He felt like a stag in rut. He best face her now and be gone before things got out of hand. He wanted her too much to spoil the future with a few inappropriate advances in the present.

Angeline stifled her curiosity and her overheated thoughts while she trod about her garden. She would not let that miscreant arouse her ire again, she assured herself. She would not let him invade her sanctuary and comfortable life. He had no right and she had no interest.

Did she?

Moments later, she sensed a presence behind her. Then someone cleared his throat. She stood up straight as a ramrod. She had once again been bending over. How could she?

How could he?

“Lady Angeline,” Geoffrey began, “I will be off shortly.” He would for sure if he didn’t get his rampant sex away from her immediately. “I thought it best to come to say goodbye. And, before I take my leave, I thought I should tell you your father has given me leave to court you.”

Angeline turned upon her heel, her eyes blazing, the seafoam depths now a raging sea, wrath plain upon her angelic face. “I think not, my lord. I have no desire for your attentions,” she said with scorn. “You shall only be wasting my time and yours in such a fruitless endeavor. Leave me be. I do not wish to be the center of your marital goals. Surely there is some other woman who would be easier met to satisfy your needs.”

“There is no one else I wish to assuage my needs, my lady,” Geoffrey assured her as his rod twitched within his trousers. “And to attain your interests ours will not be a proper English courting.”

Throwing caution to the wind and taking the bold path, Geoffrey lowered his voiced and asked, “Tell me, my lady, have you ever felt the pleasures of a man? Have you ever swelled under the feelings of desire?”

The heat and color rose to Angeline’s face so quickly Geoffrey could not help but see it.

“That is none of your affair, sir. What I have or have not felt is no one’s business but my own. Your questions are most improper.”

Geoffrey moved a few steps closer, putting him less than a foot from her. He could easily reach out now to stroke her hair, her breasts, to raise her skirts from over her sensual derrière. “I thought not, based upon our little encounter this morning. My dear Angeline. . .”

“I gave you no leave to call me by my Christian name,” she spat out at him. “Please desist from these efforts and leave me be.”

Eyes still glaring, she refused to give him the satisfaction of backing off. She remained rooted in place before him, her cheeks an explosion of red color.

“Lady Angeline,” he went on, ignoring her reprimand, “let me be blunt. Do you truly wish to die a virgin? Do you have no thought to leave this plane having some knowledge of the secrets held between a man and a woman?” he quietly demanded. Only inches from her face, her lips, pink and full, enticed him to take them with his own.

Angeline was startled and appalled by his inquiry. “That is no business or concern to you, my lord.” But the heat was pooling in her abdomen.

What was it like to feel such things with a man?

“Ah, but it is, my lady, because I choose to be the one to teach you the pleasures between the sexes. You may never marry, me nor anyone else, but you shall not go to your grave pristine and untutored. You shall know the very meaning of passion and desire.”

His eyes were heavy-lidded and held a glint of knowledge she knew she wished to share. But she would not. Especially not with this. . .this. . .rake.

“And you think you are the one to show me?” Angeline scorned him once again. “How very arrogant you are, my lord. I could choose any man I wish to give me such knowledge.”

“I am sure you could, my lady. But I am here now and I have the experience and knowledge needed to make it a most pleasant affair for you. Why should you trifle with a man who would lack the very finesse you need to show you the error of your ways?”

His right eyebrow lifted. The man was incorrigible.

“I doubt there is any error in my ways, my lord. It is you, you randy rake, who presumes all persons are in rut because you are.” Still irate, Angeline glared green fire while her mind reeled over the thoughts of all he knew and she did not. What was it like to lay with a man? To feel him fill her? To feel passion and desire?

“Randy I might be, Lady Angeline, but it is your blessing. Lessons will begin tomorrow night. . .at midnight. You must know the cottage by the lake on my estate. It is not far from here. I will see you there at the stroke of twelve. You will learn what it is you are willing to forego for the rest of your days. Then, if you still wish to do so, you will have my blessings and I will let you be.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, he swiftly turned away stalking out of the garden as if he were the master of his race.

Angeline remained behind, utterly speechless, her cheeks still aflame, her body still yearning. His face had been so close to hers she had thought he would kiss her.

Had she hoped he would do so? She had been kissed before but it had been quite some time since her last experience and it had not given her delight.

Certainly it had raised no desire in her.

What was it about this particular man that seemed to set every cell in her body on alert? He caused her such distress, such heat, such frustration.

“I will not meet you, my lord. Your offer is most improper,” she assured the local wildlife. “There is nothing you can teach me I wish to know.” But in her mind, she wondered further about desire and passion.

What did this man know she did not, would not, if she refused his offer?

Did she really wish to die a virgin?

Was it not a riskless task she could learn what she wished, then retreat from the field to live in serenity? He told her he would let her be.

What did passion really feel like?

Could she trust him at his word?

Chapter 3

Through the next day and a half, a battle raged within Angeline.

One minute, she would go to grasp all the sexual knowledge and passion she could, to use him as he would wish to use her.

The next, she would let the rogue, who was now haunting her dreams with his hard, manly body and fierce, green eyes rot in hell.

One minute, she was filled with heat and desire and the memories of his hot, brazen sex against her sheathed backside while the next, she was cursing him as the devil with his highhanded, arrogant ways.

At half past eleven, Angeline was ensconced in her bed, her cotton night rail buttoned fully to her chin, her down-filled duvet cloaking her in weight and warmth. The lamps were out, the fire still glowed upon the grate, and the moon, now rapidly waning, shed the glow of pale light across her bedchamber floor.

She tossed and turned in the bedclothes. Would she never get to sleep? Could she not divest her mind of the rake and his temptations? No wonder Adam and Eve lost the garden—curiosity was the most motivating, frustrating condition.

She jumped from her bed to don her clothes, throwing on the first things that came to hand, a dress and shoes only. Quickly putting her braided hair into a bun, she dashed from the room, irate. Determined to put this wicked man in his place, she fled in the direction of the cottage.

Her way over the fields and through the trees was well known. She had traveled it many times as a child when she went to play with Ronald by the lake. It was in that very cottage, at the age of nine, she received her first kiss. Ronald had placed a chaste kiss upon her lips. She had grown red with rage, slapped his face, and run away. He had come to her home later to apologize. From that day to his death, he had never kissed her again, though he had courted her on and off for years and asked her to marry him at least three times. She had always declined. As sweet as he was, there was no fire there for her. She had never known if she had generated a fire for him. And now he was dead. And she was heading for that same cottage to meet a man who would never be so courteous, so respectful, as Ronald.

She would give him a piece of her mind and go home. Surely that would purge the confusion of emotions battling within her.

At midnight, Geoffrey stood in the small room that was the first floor of the cottage. His staff had spent the day cleaning away the dust and decay of years. He had a large, comfortable bed, two small wing chairs, a table and two side chairs, a bureau stocked with linens, and a washstand with a basin installed for their comfort and convenience. He had the finest linens placed upon the bed; down filled the mattress; flowers scented the room. He was ready for her. Would she come?

Not five minutes later, there came a pounding at the door, no ladylike knock. The Tempest had arrived and in fine fettle, too.

Strolling leisurely to the door, his manhood already saluting his interests, Geoffrey opened the portal. Bowing graciously, he swept the space before him with his hand while inviting her in. “Welcome, my Lady Angeline. Do come in. All is ready for you.”
Not the least of which is I
, he thought to himself, working hard to retain his self-control.

Angeline swept into the room. “I am not staying. I have only come to tell you this plan of yours is absurd. I see no purpose to it. I am not some foolish schoolgirl you can sweep off her feet to use as you see fit.” She came to the blazing fire to warm her hands. It was still chill in the evenings at this point in spring. The heat felt good upon her hands and her face.

“I am so glad you have arrived, my lady. Let me take your cloak.”

Geoffrey moved toward her, ignoring her denials.

Suddenly he was right behind her. She could feel the mass of him, the heat of him, in every part of her body. And desire pooled once again in her stomach. A tightness arose, calling to her, telling her she needed something, was missing something.

What did this man do that made her so agitated?

Lord Colburn placed his hands upon her shoulders, tugging gently on the cloak, which held fast at first, then fell away into his hands. “It’s warm here, Lady Angeline. I made sure of it. You will not need the cloak,” he crooned into her ear.

His voice was rich, deep, resonant, molten seduction.

Angeline felt the vibration in her heart, the desire in her stomach. There was so much she wanted to know.

Yet again she asked herself—did she really wish to die a virgin, never knowing the fullness of life?

Geoffrey whispered into her ear, “I am so glad you came. All is prepared for our lesson. You shall not regret for a moment all that will take place here.”

His hot breath was like a kiss, causing the hair on her nape to stand on end. She felt the heat rush up to her face. Her body ached. She knew she should not be here, that danger lay in this path if she sustained it. She turned round in a whirl to face her would-be seducer.

“I am not staying, my lord. This is not proper for a woman of my station. I only came to assure you your efforts are futile. I have no wish to change my ways, no less to learn any of yours. I will be greatly in your debt if you will, in the future, leave me to my own occupations.” Angeline looked up to see the depth and heat of his jade green eyes.

“As you wish, Angeline,” he murmured, then placed his lips upon hers, brushing them softly back and forth, inviting her reaction.

But she did not pull away. She only tensed her body to withstand the coming onslaught.

As if sensing her defiance, he pressed his lips to hers more firmly.

His lips were so warm, so soft. Her body was tingling again, everywhere. But she knew this should not, could not be. She put her hands upon his chest, fingers splayed across the massive, muscled bulk, and pushed hard against him. But, he made no retreat. Instead he opened his mouth slightly. His tongue caressed her lips ever so gently, sending a shiver down her spine, causing her to gasp.

Lord Colburn gently pushed his hot, wet tongue into her mouth as if to taste the essence of her. Her body tensed against him but he did not desist; instead, he tangled his tongue with hers, starting the lesson he had promised: This is how we kiss. This is what I do. This is what you do in return.

All thoughts flew from Angeline’s head as she felt and tasted the man who held her. Strong arms embraced her gently, sweetly but firmly. She could not have gotten loose.

Did she even want to?

The kisses of the men in London had not felt like this. The kisses of the local gentry had not moved her like this. She had been kissed before, she was sure of it, but now she realized she had never been
kissed
before.

His tongue tantalized her, enticed her, melted her resolve. Then his lips were gone only to be placed upon her jawline, her forehead. When he brushed them gently against her ear, she thought she would go mad. Then he placed his arm round the small of her back and arched her over it as he moved to the warmth of her virgin neck.

Angeline groaned with the feel of it, with the heat of it, with the desire that was now pulsing everywhere within her. This must stop, she thought languidly. But she could not gain control of a single muscle to put her mental musings into physical action.

His hand was at her throat now, easing the buttons from their moorings. The kisses followed the expanse of skin that was released. His other palm was firm against her buttocks, squeezing gently, arousing, inciting.

“You feel so wonderful, Angeline. You smell of flowers and woman. Your skin is like silk, warm silk. I want you, Angeline. I want all of you. I want you to feel a passion you never knew existed. I want to feel your passion and I want you to feel mine.”

His words were soft and husky in her ear.

The onslaught continued, his breath hot as his words whispered against her neck, over the crest of her breast. Angeline groaned, “No, my lord, you shouldn’t.”

She protested weakly as his hand came up to cup the soft orb. He grasped it firmly. Angeline arched into the heat and strength of his hand. Her moan was low. “My lord, I should take my leave.”

“Geoffrey,” he corrected her. “You cannot go yet; your first lesson is not over.”

More buttons slipped free, then he parted the front of her bodice and turned her toward the light of the fire. “Let me see, Angeline. Let me see these breasts I have imagined for more than twenty-four hours.” With tender care, he pushed her gown from her shoulders, freeing her from her restraints. “Your breasts are beautiful, Angeline,” he attested as he placed a strong palm against the firm, warm, mound of flesh. “So ripe, so lush, so begging for my touch.”

Geoffrey ran his thumb over her nipple, feeling his groin twitch as Angeline’s skin flushed and her nipples furled from his attentions.

“Geoffrey, you shouldn’t, you mustn’t,” protested Angeline, as she arched to push her breast more firmly into his grasp. “How can it feel so very good?” she murmured.

“There is more, Angeline, so very much more, my angel,” Geoffrey promised her as he bent his head to take the sweet morsel into his mouth. The gasp and moan that met his actions assured him his courting was being received with the greatest of appreciation.

With such encouragement, he taunted the virgin breast. He circled his tongue around the areola, feeling the nipple grow tighter still. He flicked the pink bud with his tongue, only to feel the object of his desire push toward him harder. He tenderly nudged his teeth against the sensitive nub. Another gasp was his reward, along with frantic fingers in his hair pulling and tugging. Then he suckled, gently at first, then more urgently. The woman in his arms melted against him.

He could take her any time; he was sure of it. There was passion in her, more than he had hoped for, more than she knew she even possessed.

Angeline had lost all sense, but her senses were on fire. Her ears heard her own breathing and his, rapid, ragged. Her eyes were closed tightly, but light filled them. She smelled flowers and man and woman. She felt his rigid length against her stomach, throbbing with the need he was not heeding. Instead, he was tending to her, making her feel all these luscious things. Making her body heat until it was molten. Making her lose her breath and not be able to find it. Making her want more and more.

She felt her skirts move, heard them rustle. A warm hand lay upon her leg, her outer thigh. “No, I can’t take it. You must stop. It is too much . . .” she protested with half of her brain and none of her heart.

“We have not yet begun, my angel,” came his assurance in a gruff, raspy voice as Geoffrey moved his hand between her thighs and cupped her mons.

“You are scorching me, Angeline. Who knew you could attain such heat? Are you wet for me? Are you ready?” He slid his fingers between her cleft, finding her dripping, slick and ready.

His cock throbbed with his need and still he ignored it, choosing instead to slide his finger inside her warm, wet passage. He groaned as he felt the delicate flesh tighten around his digit, felt the throb of her need.

“Oh, Angeline, you are so ready for me, you are so hot, so wet, so very ripe for my cock. But,” he said as he gently pulled his finger from her only to slide it over her clitoris, felt her body clench from his casual touch, “this must be enough of a lesson for the first night.”

He placed his hand against her backside to steady her, trailed kisses from her breast back up to her lips. “We cannot go too fast. It might be too much for your delicate sensibilities,” he whispered against her lips. As he steadied her position, he covered her shoulders with her gown, then buttoned her back to a decent state.

Angeline swooned against him. He was going to stop? Now? When she wanted to learn everything there was to teach her? When her body ached for things she could not put into words? He was going to stop now?

“No.” She pushed back into his arms, against the firm wall of his chest. “No, I don’t wish to stop now. My lesson cannot be over yet. There must be more,” she begged in a woozy, raspy voice.

“Yes, my angel.” Geoffrey held her tightly to him, grasping her buttocks with one hand, the back of her neck with the other, pressing his desire into her belly. She felt the heat of him through the layers of fabric between them.

“Yes, there is more, so very much more. But we will not learn of it tonight. Tomorrow night you must come back and we will continue your lessons. Tomorrow night I will show you more. You will feel more. You will feel all of me and I will feel all of you.

“Not tonight. Tomorrow. You must go home now. You will need your rest.” He wrapped her cloak firmly round her shoulders, pale white shoulders he had so recently plied with his kisses, and escorted her to the door. “Good night, my Angeline,” he said gently, passing his lips over hers as he opened the door wide and gently pushed her through it. “Until tomorrow night, my angel.” He gave her another gentle push, then shut the door silently behind her.

Angeline stood there, dazed. Her stumbling feet headed for home, her body still hot all over and damp in a most disturbing place, her mind fractured beyond her ability to gather it. Home she went and cuddled her body into the warmth of her bed, sleeping soundly and late, her dreams filled with a large, strong, green-eyed man.

Geoffrey waited while his inexperienced lover departed, his body aching, his sex taut and throbbing.

Tomorrow night he would ease his need of her and show her what heaven was like on earth. Surely Angel was the proper name for her. He tore off his clothes with abandon, opened the cottage door, and ran to the lake. He dove in, feeling the cold waters caress his heated flesh, his rampant sex. He swore he could hear the water sizzle as it hit him, see it steam as it rolled off his length.