Lily (Flower Trilogy) (16 page)

Rain pattered on the roof far above. “I love you,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he returned, his voice filled with husky wonder. Until now, he’d never realized that love could make him whole. Never realized a part of him had been missing.

She filled that gap, making him complete. And now he wanted to show her how very grateful he was that she’d come into his life to make that incredible difference.

He shrugged out of his surcoat before easing her back on the pallet, snuggling his body over hers. When he kissed her again, she released a blissful sigh. He kissed her mouth and her forehead and her throat, trailing his lips over her soft, fragrant skin. The scent of lilies. For the past few weeks, just a whiff of that scent had sent his pulses to racing, and now he could hardly fathom that he was here all alone in a summerhouse with his sweet Lily.

Well, almost alone. Midkiss, he cracked open one eye to find three creatures watching. As though daring him, Lady pecked at more bread and then took flight, landing right on his head.

He jerked up, breaking the kiss and sending the bird fluttering to a bench. “Do you think we could put them outside?”

“Hmm?” Lily’s lids fluttered open, the blue of her eyes hazy, dreamy.

“Your animals.” He swept them with an uneasy glance.

“Could we not just . . . lock them outside for a while?”

She blinked. “’Tis raining. They’ll get wet.”

“They’re animals, for God’s sake. So what if they get wet?” But she looked determined, so he added, “Never mind.” Maybe if he closed his eyes he could ignore the fact that they were there. He did that and went back to kissing Lily.

She felt so warm against him, and soft, her curves melding to his body, her mouth tasting so
right
. He wished he could kiss her forever.

Or at least his head wished he could kiss her forever.

Other parts were telling him that would never be enough.

“When shall we be married?” he asked when next he came up for air.

Looking flushed and a little bit flustered, Lily levered herself back to a sitting position. “Violet and Ford were wed two weeks after they became betrothed, and—”

“Two weeks?” Still lying on his side, Rand leaned up on an elbow. He propped his head on one hand and reached to play with a lock of her hair. “’Twill not be easy, but I suppose I can survive that long.”

“That long?” She smiled. “Mum has been complaining about that rushed wedding ever since. She wishes to make a proper job of it this time. Six months, she said—”

“Six months! I cannot wait six months.”

She smiled. “Neither can I. That is why I talked her into six weeks.”

“Oh. I suppose six weeks is survivable.”

“It will pass quickly enough. I’ll be busy with wedding plans, and you with your house. We’ll be married before Michaelmas term starts in mid-October. And hopefully in the meantime Rose will come around . . .” Her voice trailed off sadly.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

She took a minute to answer, a minute during which he held his breath. “No,” she said finally. “Not really.”

The words had come too slowly, too reluctantly.

Rand’s heart hitched. “Lily—”

“I am
not
having second thoughts,” she repeated and then launched herself at him, knocking him back to the pallet as she crushed her mouth to his.

He kissed her and laughed, sheer joy mixed with relief.

But something inside him had shifted. All at once, even more than he wanted to show her how grateful he was that she’d come into his life, he wanted to make her his.

Permanently.

Six weeks suddenly seemed a long, long time.

With a wistful sigh, he pulled away before things could go any further. Lily’s little sound of frustrated disappointment matched his own feelings all too well. He sat up and reached for another strawberry. “Does she always hiccup so much?” he asked, indicating the cat.

“No. Or at least she didn’t used to. ’Tis odd the way she’s been doing that lately.” She pulled off one shoe, then reached beneath her skirts to untie a garter.

Rand blinked. “What are you doing?”

She rolled down the stocking. “Do you usually wear shoes to picnic?”

“I don’t usually picnic,” he said dryly. He’d allowed little time for idleness in his life. As her other shoe and stocking came off, he swallowed hard. “You’re not going to take anything else off, are you?”

“No,” she said quickly; then her eyes glittered. “Unless you want me to.”

Oh, he wanted her to, all right. He forced a laugh.

“Your mother should not have left us here alone.”

“Perhaps not.” Her lashes lowered over her eyes, then raised slowly, revealing a steadfast blue gaze that pierced him to his soul. “But I am glad for it,” she added in a breathy whisper.

Rand was finding it hard to breathe. He sipped more champagne and watched her stretch her bare feet out before her, fluffing her skirts over her legs and allowing him a glimpse of slim ankles.

’Twas innocent, he was sure. But innocently seductive.

She wiggled her pretty toes. “Oh, that feels so much better.” Leaning forward, she smiled. “Let me help you with your boots.”

Not sure he could stand her help, he tugged them off before she had a chance. She smiled, knowingly, as though she were aware of her own allure and his resulting discomfort.

Perhaps Lily was not as innocent as he’d thought.

“Have a nun’s biscuit,” she said. “They’re my favorites.” She handed him one of the thin, round treats.

“You look hungry.”

He was, but not for almonds and lemon. A nun’s biscuit, of all things . . . just what he needed, a vision of chaste nuns while the woman he loved was tempting him to sin.

He bit into the sweet, crisp biscuit, then stiffened when she reached to wipe stray crumbs from his mouth before replacing her fingers with her lips.

Lily’s mouth was sweeter than any biscuit he’d ever tasted. ’Twas all he could do to keep from tearing her gown off then and there. As it was, he found himself drawing her down to lie with him again on the pallet.

Or maybe she drew him down. He wasn’t sure. And lost in the moment, in the pleasure of her mouth on his, he really didn’t care. For several long, heady minutes, there was only he and Lily and the incredible wonder of two people made for one another.

Until he felt sandpaper rubbing his toes. “What the devil—”

She laughed, a sound of pure merriment that drowned out the rain. “Beatrix, stop licking Rand’s feet.” Leaning on one elbow, she held up a bite of cheese, and the cat wandered over to take it with its delicate pink tongue.

At least it
looked
delicate. “I thought it would feel wet,” he said. “And soft.”

“Has a cat never licked you?” Lily laughed again.

“Beatrix seemed to find you so delicious, I am tempted to taste your toes myself.”

That
would be his undoing. Just imagining that scenario made the aforementioned toes—and other parts of him—prickle with awareness.

He sat up and shoved the rest of the nun’s biscuit into his mouth, and then, for good measure, started humming a distracting tune.

Only it wasn’t nearly distracting enough.

Lily smiled to herself. That song again. She’d almost worked out how to play it, and she looked forward to the surprise. But not right now.

Now she only wanted more kisses.

Rain beat on the roof above and blended with the tune that wafted from Rand’s throat. The sounds combined to make a rhythm that went right through her, mirroring the excitement that thrummed through her body.

Despite the wetness outside, the summerhouse was warm and snug. Candles flickered all around them like stars, seemingly working magic. Although, in all honesty, she wasn’t quite sure whether this cozy wonderland was Rand’s doing or her mother’s, the romantic ambience worked on her all the same.

Or maybe it was just Rand. Ever since he’d first touched her, she’d burned for more. For everything. For weeks she’d denied it, but now they were going to be wed.

Everything had happened so fast. Only yesterday she’d thought of Rand as Rose’s, but now, miraculously, he was hers. And she wanted him with a fierceness she’d never even imagined. A fierceness that completely took her by surprise.

Six weeks. It seemed like forever. She moved closer again and pressed her lips to his.

The humming stopped. “Oh, Lily,” Rand said, but the words were almost a groan. She worried for a moment that he was angry, but he didn’t seem angry. He didn’t push her away. Instead, he curved one hand around the nape of her neck and deepened the kiss. The lips that had been soft and gentle earlier were urgent now, more fervent. He kissed her until she felt breathless, senseless, his mouth trailing down to play in the sensitive hollow of her throat.

His lips felt so good against her skin. His tongue drew warm circles on her flesh, moving lower, delving closer to the cleavage revealed by her low neckline. Her heart raced faster as new sensations rippled through her, not only where his mouth teased her, but other places, too. An ache was building inside her, a most strange and wondrous feeling.

Wishing to make him feel the same way, she reached to unknot his white cravat.

Rand lifted his head. “You cannot do that,” he murmured.

“Yes, I can.” The lace-edged fabric came untied, and she started drawing it from his neck. “I want to do to you the same thing you’re doing to me. I want to make you feel—”

“You
cannot
.”

She stopped, stunned by the vehemence of his words, the steely gray of his eyes. “Why?” she breathed.

“Because if you do,” he said very slowly, “I fear I may not be able to keep from doing more.”

Was that all? She smiled as the cravat slid free.

“Lily—”

“Rand.” Her mouth felt suddenly dry, and she licked her lips. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared he could hear it above the rain and her own harsh breathing. Rising to her knees to face him, she caught his silvery gaze.

“I want you to do more. I want
you
,” she clarified, echoing his words from weeks earlier.

Now she really knew what he’d meant.

His smile looked painfully forced. “You’re going to have me. We’re going to have each other. In six weeks.”

“I want you
now
.” As her fingers went to loosen the lacing at his neck, she watched his eyes widen in shock.

She’d never felt like this before—like a wanton, truth be told. And she was every bit as shocked as he—shocked not only at her boldness, but at the desire that raged through her, sweeping clear her resistance and all her inhibitions. She’d never imagined feeling free enough to offer herself to a man.

But then, she’d never before been in love.

He just stared, dumbfounded, while she opened the placket of his shirt and put her mouth to his skin as he had to hers, tasting him, faintly salty and musky, a heady flavor that was his alone.

“Lily.” He raised her face and touched a finger to her chin, looking wistful . . . until his gaze was drawn by the motion of Jasper hopping from the bench to the pallet, his bushy red tail flicking up and down.

Rand swallowed hard, then sighed. “Even your menagerie disapproves.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“You’re truly bent on seducing me, aren’t you? No matter what your animals think.”

“They’re not thinking, Rand. They’re just watching.”

She felt a shudder run through him. “I don’t like it.”

Under other circumstances, she might have laughed.

“The animals watching?”

“Yes.” He gave her a light kiss; then his face set in determined lines. “Your parents wouldn’t like it, either.”

“The animals watching?” she repeated, nonplussed.

“Yes. I mean, no.” He looked deliciously flustered. “I mean they wouldn’t like
this
.” He yanked her against him and kissed her again, hard.

She let herself slide into the demanding caress. He plundered her mouth, tasting of strawberries and champagne and Rand. When at last he let her go, she found herself trembling with ill-contained desire.

“My parents kiss all the time,” she informed him shakily. “They would certainly like it. As a matter of fact, Mum told all us girls we should make sure to kiss a man before we marry him. To ascertain we’re well matched in that area. And she’s an accomplished matchmaker, so I’m sure she knows of what she speaks.”

Despite everything, Rand’s lips quirked in a half smile.

“’Tisn’t the kissing they’d not approve. ’Tis what it will lead to should you insist on going any further. Your parents certainly wouldn’t like that.”

He obviously didn’t know her parents. “Violet was born six months after they wed. And she wasn’t a small baby.”

“What?” His forehead furrowed in confusion.

“They didn’t wait, Rand. And I don’t see why we should, either.” She watched his jaw drop open as she continued. “We’ll be married in six weeks . . . but I want you now.”

He shut his eyes momentarily. “If you say that enough times, I’ll be forced to believe you.”

“How many times?” she wondered. “Will five or six more do? A dozen? I want you now, I want you now, I want—”

He silenced her with another kiss, a kiss so fierce she wondered if perhaps he’d given in. But when he drew back, he gazed at her, gauging her—and gauging his own power to resist as well, she guessed.

Then slowly his fingers moved to unfasten her stomacher, and her heart soared, sure she had won. She wanted this. She burned for him. And besides all that, if they made love now, then later, on her wedding night, she wouldn’t have to worry about—

“Are you certain?” he asked, his voice low and earnest, his eyes more intense than ever she’d seen them, his fingers fumbling on the stomacher’s tabs. He glanced down, then dropped his hands. “I’m undressing you, and you’re not stopping me.”

“No.” She took his hands and brought them back to the stiff embroidered garment. “I’m not.”

His hands didn’t move, just rested lightly against her front. Her pulse skittered. Beneath his fingertips, her breasts felt firm and overly sensitive.

A silence stretched between them. His expression steadied and grew serious. “You do know what you’re asking?”