Lily (Flower Trilogy) (20 page)

Despite Rand’s effective attempts to distract her, Lily didn’t miss the admiration in Kit’s voice. Or the touch of longing. “Have you seen the Theatre of Marcellus?”

“No.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I aspire to study the great buildings on the Continent, but I’m afraid I’m hopeless with foreign languages. I have nightmares of never finding my way home.”

“Rose has an excellent head for languages,” Lily offered.

Her sister swung to glare at her. If looks could kill, Lily thought, she’d be deader than the sculptured heads on the railing around the building.

“What is that?” Chrystabel asked, pointing to something behind them in a transparent attempt to smooth things over.

“The Tower of the Five Orders,” Kit said enthusiastically. “’Tis the most unusual structure in all of Oxford.”

He led them through an archway, a short tunnel through a plain building, and into an open quadrangle.

The buildings surrounding it were more imposing than the austere exterior would suggest. Many doors gave entrance, each with a Latin inscription in gold letters on a blue background.

Rose turned slowly, translating them all. “Grammar and history, logic, rhetoric. Music, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy. Philosophy.” And at the far end, “School of Medicine, School of Law, School of Theology.”

“Those three are the superior schools,” Rand explained. “Before attending any of those, one must pass each of the other schools first and receive his Master of Arts.”

Kit wandered closer to Rose again. “You
are
good at languages.”

She shrugged, but looked pleased. Kit was making inroads, Lily thought. Flattery was one sure way to Rose’s heart.

He cleared his throat, turning to their mother. “You asked about the tower.” They all turned to look at it, a wondrous sight in the otherwise rather sobering surroundings. “The Five Orders display the different styles of classical architecture, distinguished by differing columns, bases, and pedestals. From the bottom to the top, oldest to newest, we have Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and Composite.”

Rose looked more interested than Lily would have expected. “Who is sitting up there?”

“The statue? King James. Can you see that he’s holding a book? The Bodleian Library is behind you—it receives a copy of every new book ever published. As for the rest of the building . . .”

Lily listened with half an ear as everyone gathered around to hear Kit talk about the Gothic carving and pinnacles. Bells began ringing from the various towers of Oxford’s many colleges, their chimes all different but harmonious. A beautiful sound. A sound she looked forward to hearing day after day, night after night, when she lived here with Rand, alone in their lovely, brand-new house.

For both their sakes, she hoped they would.

As though sensing her thoughts, he moved closer and took her hand, and excitement churned in the pit of her stomach. Although it was growing dark, it would still be hours before he could come to her. She wished she could kiss him again right now.

Goodness, ’twas fortunate her family was here in this otherwise empty quadrangle, or else she feared she might shove him to the grass and start ripping off his clothes.

One day in Rand’s arms and she was turning into a shameless wanton!

“Lie still,” Rose muttered.MMMMMNMMMMMM

“I’m just getting comfortable.” Lily rolled onto her stomach and rearranged her pillow. She wished she were sharing this bed with Rand instead of her sister. But they’d arrived back at the inn to find a very apologetic proprietor. Apparently one of his clerks had miscalculated and rented out one too many rooms, leaving one too few for Lily’s family. The most logical pairing, of course, was Rose and Lily together . . . and Rand certainly wouldn’t be able to join her here. Nor could she join him—not without creating a scandal when Rose saw her leave.

Her body throbbed with newfound lust. She’d never imagined how it would feel to want a man, to wait all day, anticipating the night . . . and then end up aching and alone.

’Twas torture. She couldn’t wait to be married. She flipped onto her back and sighed. At the foot of the bed, Beatrix sat up and meowed.

“Lily, will you
please
lie still?”

“All right. I’m sorry.” She had to stop thinking about Rand. It had been a long time since she’d shared a bed with one of her sisters—since Violet had lived at home and the three of them had spent nights sharing their secrets. She had a whole lifetime ahead of her with Rand, and this night with Rose should be fun. Perhaps they could regain some of the closeness they’d recently lost.

“Kit is very nicely put together, is he not?” she asked into the darkness.

“He’s handsome enough,” Rose admitted in a vast understatement. “’Tis unfortunate he’s not titled.”

Lily turned over again to search her sister’s face in the dim light from the fire. “He’s a famous architect. Goodness, he gets commissions from the King himself! I imagine he can afford to live in a grand style. Why should it matter that he’s not titled?”

“Of course it matters.” Rose averted her gaze, staring up at the old oak beams in the ceiling. “Violet is a viscountess, and you—soon you’ll be a countess and eventually a marchioness. Why should I settle for less?”

“If you love a man, ’tis not settling.”

“Well, I’m not in love with Kit, am I? I’ve barely met the man, and I’ve no intention of getting to know him better when he’s not what I want.” Rose rolled away, presenting Lily with her back. “Go to sleep. You have a journey early in the morning.”

End of discussion. Lily imagined she could feel Rose’s cold calculation, rolling off of her in waves. So much for growing closer.

Deprived of conversation, Lily’s thoughts drifted back to Rand. Over the next quarter hour, she tossed and turned, trying to ignore her body’s cravings and failing utterly.

“Go to him,” Rose finally said.

“Wh-what?”

“Go to him. I’ll not tell Father or Mum or anyone else.

Just go, so I can get some sleep.”

“Rose, I—”

“I’ll never like the fact that you won him, but ’tis a fact nonetheless. Go, Lily.”

“I—” She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. But it wasn’t as though Rand were in the adjacent room. “I’d have to walk outdoors alone in the dark of the night.

’Tisn’t safe.”

Her sister snorted. “ ’Tis fifty feet down an alley.

Should anyone approach you, Beatrix will draw blood with her claws, Jasper will nip off the poor soul’s toes, and Lady will peck out his eyes. Just go.”

Lily didn’t have to be told again. Nerves scrambling, she slid from the bed and began throwing on her clothes.

“Thank you, Rose.”

“You’d do the same for me.”

“Thank you anyway.” The Ashcroft siblings had always stuck together, but Rose’s willingness to cover for her said louder than any words that Lily was well on her way to being forgiven.

She was relieved. And grateful.

But mostly, she was on fire.

“Lily?” Obviously shocked to find her on his doorstep, Rand opened the door wider, then blinked as her three animal friends scampered past him.

Lily stood on the steps, shivering in the chilly night air but enjoying her surprise. The expression on Rand’s face was priceless. The rest of him looked delicious, his hair tousled from sleep, his body wrapped in a dark brown brocade dressing gown tied loosely around his waist.

She wanted her hands on that body. “May I come in?”

“Oh. Of course.” Holding a candle with one hand, he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and drew her inside, then shut the door, eyeing the assorted creatures.

“How the devil did they get to Oxford?”

“I told you, they follow me.”

“They follow you,” he repeated dryly, as though that explained nothing at all. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I missed you.” She moved closer and slipped her arms beneath the silk dressing gown. It was her turn to be surprised when she felt naught but bare skin. She skimmed her hands over his back, smiling to herself when he bobbled the candle. “I came to talk about tomorrow. Your father—”

He hushed her with a quick kiss. “I don’t even want to think about the old goat, let alone talk about him.”

“I was jesting.” She molded her body against his, feeling altogether wicked and wonderful. The house smelled of new wood and paint, and Rand smelled of warmth and temptation. “Since you couldn’t come to my bed, I decided to come to yours.”

His eyes widened. “Well, then,” he said, his voice turning velvet-smooth as he gazed down at her, “shall we go up to it?”

She suddenly realized what she’d said. How forward that must have sounded. Rose would say something like that and hold up her head, but Lily had just shocked herself speechless.

The look on her face must have amused him, because his lips twitched as he drew her hands from under his dressing gown, one by one, then raised the candle and motioned her toward the stairs.

Her cheeks burning, she preceded him up the steps.

“I cannot believe you’re here,” he said from behind her matter-of-factly, as though she hadn’t just proved herself a wanton.

“Rose told me to come.”

“Rose?”

“Rose. She couldn’t stand my tossing and turning.”

Lily paused on the bedchamber’s threshold, staring at Rand’s bed and suddenly not feeling wanton at all. There was a big difference between sliding into passion in a summerhouse and showing up on a man’s doorstep in the middle of the night.

Laying a gentle hand on her back, he urged her inside.

“I was tossing and turning myself. Couldn’t sleep, so I was puzzling out some old text.” He pushed aside a jumble of papers to set the candle on the desk by the door.

“But Rose?”

“She’s accepting us, Rand.” She still stared at the bed.

The forest green hangings were pulled back, the sheets invitingly rumpled. “She may not be happy about it, but at least she’s coming around. She’s not going to hate me all our days.”

“I’m so glad.”

At the sound of the door slamming shut, she jumped and whirled to face him. “What was that?”

“They’re outside.”

She put a hand to her racing heart. “Who?”

“Your animals.” He grinned. “They cannot come in here. But they’re not out in the rain. There’s no need to worry—”

“You’re impossible.” Now that the bed was out of sight, safely behind her back, she was feeling amorous again. She went closer and raised on her toes for a kiss.

“The animals really don’t care.”

“
I
care.” He kissed her forehead, not her mouth. “This time I don’t want any distractions.” His hands on her shoulders, he slowly backed her up. “This time is going to be different.” He kept going, his thumbs caressing the sides of her neck, inciting a delicious shiver. “This time—”

The backs of her legs bumped into something.

The bed.

“This time,” he concluded, “we’ll do it
my
way.”

’Twas a high four-poster bed with two steps leading up to it. Rand lifted her by the waist and sat her atop the mattress.

She swallowed hard. “
Your
way?”

“My way. Slow and easy . . .”

The way he said that made her suspect there would be nothing easy about it at all.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he began removing her shoes. Slowly. And untying her garters. Slowly.

And rolling down her stockings. Slowly.

Those hot cravings she’d been feeling—the ones that had driven her to run here, the ones that had prompted her to slide her hands under Rand’s robe, to brazenly tell him she’d come to his bed—were returning at an alarming speed.

“Rand?” He looked like he was concentrating very hard, his gray gaze intent on what he was doing, his fingers tracing featherlight patterns on her skin. She quivered. “Do you think you could go a little faster?”

“We did fast yesterday. I told you, I intend to go slow.”

“But why?” He was driving her mad. “If we go fast, maybe we’ll have time to do it twice.”

His hands fell away from her as he burst out laughing.

She crossed her arms, indignant, wondering which upset her more: him laughing at her expense, or the fact that he’d ceased touching her.

Then he smilingly shook his head and said, “God, I love you”—and she wasn’t upset at all.

The laughter still lingered in his eyes. “My sweet Lily.

You seduced me in the summerhouse, but it’s my turn tonight. And if you’re good, we’ll do it twice.”

“If I’m good?”

“If you let me do it my way.”

“His” way was exquisite torture. It took him ages just to remove her clothing, and he managed to graze every bit of her skin along the way. By the time he was finished, there wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t tingling with anticipation.

He finally stood beside the bed and shrugged out of his dressing gown, his body gilded by the dim light of the single candle. He had a runner’s long, sculpted muscles, all shadowed in stark relief.

She could see he was ready to take her, and she was more than ready to be taken. She licked her lips and raised her arms to him, holding her breath when he eased her onto her back and moved over her.

“Lily.” He felt so warm, his weight supported on his elbows, his fingertips dancing on her face. Barely touching, just enough to make her skin tremble in response. “Lily, you make me burn.”

“Rand—”

“Hush.” His lips grazed her ear, lightly, lightly. Pleasure rippled through her, and heat pooled in her middle.

He took an earlobe into his mouth, sucking softly, and the room seemed to spin, rattling her senses.

“Rand—”

“Hush. Be good.” His lips trailed down her neck, a warm swath of sensation. He rolled off of her, next to her, one hand tracing her waist while he bent his head to tease her breasts. ’Twas too much at once, especially when he swirled his tongue around one rosy peak and then bit it gently.

She gasped, feeling it harden in response. Feeling
him
harden against her thigh. She reached down and wrapped her hand around him, eager to find what he felt like . . .

warm velvet over steel. Her heart racing, she moved her fingers experimentally, and his moan made her blood race even faster.