In The Prince's Bed (28 page)

“Must we?” His blood—and something else—was already rising again.

“You know we must. Mama will come looking for me soon.”

“Good, we’ll stay here until she findsus. Then you’ll be thoroughly compromised.” He tipped her face up to his. “You know you have to marry me now, sweetheart.”

When delight sparked in her eyes, he realized a tiny part of her had still feared he wanted only seduction. Trying not to let it bother him, he added, “In fact, we’ll be marrying as soon as possible.”

“Will we?” she teased.

“Yes, we will,” he said firmly.

With a minxish smile, she slid off his lap and stood, stretching like a cat. When she caught him staring at her pert breasts, she blushed and jerked up the chemise to cover her. But not before he’d glimpsed her smooth white belly and the patch of fiery red hair between her thighs… the thighs she’d wrapped around him with an instinctive knowledge of lovemaking as old as Eve. His cock stirred once more, especially when she swept her own glance down his body to fix on the growing erection he couldn’t hide.

Still clutching the chemise to her chest, she approached and bent to touch her finger to the swollen tip of his cock. He tugged the chemise out of her grip so he could seize her breast in his mouth to tongue the rapidly tightening tip.

Just as he wondered if he could toss her back down on the bench and make love to her again, she stepped back, forcing him to relinquish his hold on her breast. His breath coming heavily, he watched her shimmy into her chemise.

Then she smiled. “You know,
The Rake’s Rhetorick
has pictures, too.”

He went painfully hard. “What kind of pictures?”

“Naughty ones. Of rakes with women.” She gestured to his rock-hard cock. “A couple of the pictures even show a man’s… er… staff.”

He could only imagine what a book like that would show as an “average” male member. “I really will have to burn that thing,” he grumbled as he rose and reached for her. Laughing, she brushed his hands away. “I thought the pictures were exaggerations, but apparently men really do look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you, all long and hard and…” Her gaze grew sultry as she closed her hand around his erection.

“Firm.”

He dragged in a breath. He’d known she had a reckless streak, but who would have guessed that loosing it would turn her into such a delightful wanton?

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A wanton he couldn’t wait to bed again.

With a growl, he caught her to him. “That does it— now I’ll have to remind you what my ‘staff’ is for.”

He bent his head to suck her neck, and she arched her back, pressing her soft, thinly clad breasts against him.

Before thrusting him away and marching off to look for her gown. He scowled after her. “Not so fast, senhora.” He walked up and tried to snatch it from her hand. “Now that you’ve got my staff firm—”

“—you aren’t apt to forget whom you’re marrying.” Eyes twinkling, she danced away, taking her gown with her.

Blast the woman for using his own words against him. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to the bench. “As if I can forget that when all I think about is you naked,” he grumbled.

Her musical laugh only annoyed him further. “Good. Keep that thought in your mind until we’re married.”

“To hell with waiting until we’re married. I want to make love to you now.”

When he headed for her once more, she smiled and tossed his drawers at him. “You can’t, and you know it. So get dressed, before we’re discovered.”

Which would put a quick end to this torture. With a sly smile, he sidled toward her, his drawers in his hand. “One kiss, that’s all I want. To hold me until our wedding night.”

She eyed him askance. “Do you think you can stop with a kiss?”

Of course he couldn’t. Neither could she. That was the point. “Why don’t we find out?”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She darted around behind the short wall separating the orange trees from the sitting area. “I do
not
intend to be found naked in your arms, no matter how appealing you find the idea at the moment.”

He groaned. “Blast you for your sense of propriety. I thought I’d coaxed it out of you.”

“Not yet.” She slipped into her gown with another teasing smile. “But you’re welcome to keep trying.
After
we’re married.”

He opened his mouth to tell her that he intended to keep her in bed for a week after they married, but loud noises coming from the garden kept him silent.

“Are you sure you saw her out here?” came the unmistakably loud voice of Mrs. Merivale. He couldn’t hear the answer, but he didn’t need to. Though it sounded as if the intruders were still far off, they’d soon reach the orangery. And judging from Katherine’s panicked expression, she wasn’t eager to be caught like this.

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Very well, he would preserve her proprieties. For now.

They dressed swiftly, their hands moving in a silent frenzy. He laced up her corset and fastened her gown; she helped him tie his cravat. Thank God he’d already looked rumpled when he’d arrived, so his disordered attire wouldn’t rouse more comment.

Her appearance was more likely to do so, but between the two of them, they managed to get her looking presentable. Thankfully, by the time the voices neared them, he was already helping her with her hair.

She’d just put the last pin in place when the orangery door opened and a brace of candles was thrust inside, followed by their hostess and Mrs. Merivale.

As Lady Purefoy swept the candles in an arc over the room, Alec spotted
The Rake’s Rhetorick
lying on the floor. He stepped in front of it just before the light hit it. Seconds later, he and Katherine were fully illuminated.

Mrs. Merivale looked disappointed to find them fully clothed and standing respectably apart, but that didn’t halt her purpose. “My lord! How dare you—”

“Good evening, ladies,” Alec put in swiftly. “You’re just in time. Miss Merivale has finally agreed to be my bride.”

The two women blinked. Then everything changed.

Smiling broadly, Mrs. Merivale hurried forward to hug her daughter. “Oh, my angel, I’m so happy for you. How wonderful to have it settled at last!”

Lady Purefoy’s shock turned to smug self-congratulation. “Didn’t I tell you, Totty?” the baroness said to Mrs. Merivale. “I knew his lordship would never enter my house dressed so shamefully without good purpose. And to have the match assured at my party! What a coup!”

As if she’d had a blasted thing to do with it, Alec thought wryly. “Forgive me, Lady Purefoy, for bursting in with such a lack of ceremony, but I couldn’t wait another minute to ask Miss Merivale to marry me.”

Taking Katherine’s hand, Alec gazed down into her smiling face.

“No apology needed.” Lady Purefoy winked at Mrs. Merivale. “We matrons aren’t so old as to forget how impetuous young gentlemen in love can be.”

The two women laughed, but Katherine went still and her smile faltered. Alec bit back a curse. He’d asked her—
commanded
her to marry him—without once saying the words of love any young woman wanted to hear from her intended.

Then again, hadn’t she said she didn’t believe in love? This was a marriage between two people who desired each other, nothing more. Surely she must realize that, and if she didn’t, it was better to make it clear before she began nurturing such feelings for him.

Before he started to
want
her nurturing them. No, he wouldn’t spend his life like his mother, yearning for what he couldn’t have. He could desire Katherine, yes. Enjoy her company, certainly. But crave her love?

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That way lay disaster.

“I’m afraid we must all return to the ballroom,” Lady Purefoy said, “before people start to talk about what’s going on out here.”

“Of course,” Alec said. “Besides, I want to dance with my betrothed.”

The two women exchanged knowing glances, then headed for the door. As soon as their backs were turned, Katherine bent to retrieve that blasted book. He’d hoped she hadn’t seen it, but no such luck. When she started to shove it into her reticule, he grabbed it. “I’ll hold on to this,” he murmured as he slid it into his frock coat pocket.

She raised both eyebrows. “Why?”

“You said it has naughty pictures, didn’t you?”

“Alec—” she began in a warning tone.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Taking her arm, he led her toward the door. “I’ll give it back to you as soon as we’re married. Until then, I don’t want anything reminding you of your previous objections to my suit.”

“Now see here, my arrogant Lord Iversley, I will not—”

“Are you two coming?” Mrs. Merivale poked her head back into the orangery to ask. “We have a betrothal to announce.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he teased, “why do you dawdle?” He laughed when Katherine scowled first at him, then her mother.

And when Mrs. Merivale stood there and watched until they followed her out, he decided he might like having a pushy mother-in-law. Especially when she was so clearly on
his
side.

Katherine had never been the belle of the ball or even known how one rose to that lofty status. Now she knew. A woman need only have an attractive and highly desirable earl propose marriage. Because once the news swept through Lady Purefoy’s guests, Katherine suddenly became the most popular person there.

How ridiculous. She’d been in London for weeks— weeks, mind you! But until she’d met Alec, the only men other than Sydney asking her to dance had been Sydney’s poet friends and the occasional squinty-eyed old gentleman. Between her “unfortunate hair,” Mama’s gushing, and Papa’s reputation as a wild-living squire, she hadn’t stood a chance.

She was her same old self, but now she couldn’t beat the men off. Although judging from how Alec frowned at her present partner—a handsome, if somewhat dull-witted viscount—Alec wished
he
could. She smothered a laugh. He was trapped in an extended conversation with Mama, while Katherine danced with yet another respectable gentleman. Hah! That’s what he got for stealing the
Rhetorick
.
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He exacted his own revenge soon enough, however, when the viscount brought her back. As they approached, Alec skimmed his smoldering gaze down her body, resting it briefly on her breasts, then her belly, and finally the place between her thighs that he’d conquered so shamelessly earlier. Thank goodness the viscount was too busy chattering to notice. Alec’s look was so blatantly sensual, she could hardly manage a response to the viscount’s commentary on the dance. Undressing her with his eyes, indeed—he was
seducing
her with his eyes, curse him. Most effectively, too. By the time she and the viscount reached Alec and her mother, Katherine wanted to throw herself at her future husband and beg him to take her again right there. She didn’t even notice when the viscount left.

With a pantherish smile, Alec stepped close. “Shall I fetch you some punch, Miss Merivale? You look a bit… warm.”

She just had time to raise an eyebrow before Mama answered. “Oh, yes, do fetchusboth some punch. I swear I’m going quite hoarse from discussing your impending
mesalliance
.”

Alec covered his laugh with a cough, but Katherine could only sigh. One of these days her mother would be the death of her. “Mama, please say you haven’t been telling all and sundry that ours is a ‘bad match.’

”

“What? Indeed not! A perfect
mesalliance
—that’s what I was just saying to Lady Winthrop. Though I confess she looked oddly startled to hear it.”

Katherine wanted to drop through the floor in mortification, but Alec’s eyes twinkled madly. “Never mind Lady Winthrop, madam. On my way to get the punch, I’ll be sure to… er… explain the matter more thoroughly to her.”

As he strode off, his shoulders shaking with laughter, Mama said, “He’s such a nice man, don’t you think?”

“Tolerant, too,” Katherine said, suppressing a smile.

“You’ve made me so happy, dear. I knew when he walked in tonight that he’d forgiven you.”

She frowned. “For what, pray tell?”

“For all that business of delaying the announcement so you could talk to Sir Sydney first.” Her mother scowled at something past her. “And speaking of Sir Sydney, he’s headed this way.”

That was all the warning Katherine got before Sydney was upon them, looking dignified and vulnerable and a little sad.

He bowed to them both. “I came to give you my felicitations. I hope you and Iversley will be very happy together, Kit.”

Katherine recognized the olive branch for what it was. “Thank you.”

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“I’m certain Mother would give you her felicitations, too, if she were here.”

Mama scowled at him. “Do be sure to tell your mother exactly whom my girl is marrying. Katherine may be beneath a baronet, but apparently she’s quite high enough for an earl.”

Sydney flushed a dark red.

“Mama, please—” Katherine began.

“No, my dear,” her mother interrupted, “it needs to be said. Lady Lovelace is too high in the instep, if you ask me. And it’s time she knew it. Furthermore—”

“Excuse me, Mama, but I need a word with Sydney alone.” Ignoring propriety, Katherine tugged Sydney off with her.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she murmured, “I’m sorry about that. You know Mama—she speaks any thought that comes into her head.”

“And yet Iversley doesn’t seem to mind it.”

Oddly enough, that was true. “I think Lord Iversley finds Mama amusing.”

“Ah. He seems to find a great many things amusing, doesn’t he?”

She smiled, ignoring the insult implicit in his words. “Perhaps it’s time I had some amusement in my life.”

Sydney cast her an earnest glance. “I meant what I said about wanting you to be happy. I hope you’ll still consider me your friend.”