Authors: Kathryne Kennedy
My Unfair Lady (40 page)
Summer shivered.
Byron stifled a groan. He knew she acted without thought, innocent of what such a simple action as letting her hair down might do to him. But it made her look wanton, brought up images of her mouth parted in ecstasy, that golden brown hair spread wildly around her face, until he couldn't resist the temptation of coiling it in his hands…
He shifted where he sat, trying to ease the pressure of his ever-hardening erection. He had to take control of the situation if it killed him. He reached across the small table, smoothing the hair off her shoulders, caressing it back off her face. "There. It looked a mess. Now, what did you want to see me about?"
Summer had to fight the urge to turn her face into his palm, and when one of his hands traced a path down her neck and stopped at the neckline of her gown, she had to force away the awareness of her body's reaction to the fire in his fingers. She stared fixedly at his other hand, which came to rest casually on the tabletop, and admired the strength of it, the length of his fingers.
And the fingers of his other hand, the hand she chose to ignore, curled over her neckline, the same way he would hook his thumbs into the pockets of his coat. She could detect no burning desire in his touch and silently cursed.
Hadn't he asked her a question? Oh yes… "I asked you here to, um… thank you." Summer breathed a sigh of relief. "That's right. Thank you for finding my mother's family. Um. How did you manage that, anyway?"
She couldn't help it. Her nipple seemed to have a mind of its own; she could actually feel it jumping at his fingers. It took just a twist of her body to brush it against them, and she almost groaned aloud in relief. When she glanced at his face, her heart plummeted. Those crystal blue eyes stared back at her with indifference, that handsome face gave no indication that he felt anything at all from the touch of her nipple against his fingers.
Summer narrowed her eyes and twisted again. A burst of wetness spread between her legs, but the man sat like a statue.
Byron couldn't move. The swelling in his pants had become quite uncomfortable. He'd swept his fingers across her breasts more than once, and the girl hadn't even blinked. She'd even had the presence of mind to ask him something, and it took his soggy brain several minutes to process it and come up with an answer.
"His Royal Highness had you investigated." There, he'd managed a reply. Byron scooted his chair closer into the table, until the edge of it creased the front of his silk vest. He brushed his leg between hers, slowly pushed outward, spreading her legs beneath the table. He took a sip of his tea to distract his body's response to the thought of what he was doing, and laid the cup in the saucer with careful precision.
Then he felt her bare toes against his calf and raised his eyebrows at her.
Summer couldn't look at him anymore. She kept thinking about how his lips tasted, how his tongue felt. She stared out the window and spread her legs as far apart as humanly possible beneath that table. Surely the accidental brush of his own leg made him aware that she'd spread open to him? While trying to ignore the jolt of fire that ripped through her body when her nipple brushed his fingers again, she wiggled out of her slippers and ran her foot up the leg of his pants.
"He didn't think I was good enough for you, did he?"
"What?" Byron couldn't remember what they'd been talking about. The feel of her toes against his leg occupied all his thought processes at the moment.
"Your prince. That's why he had me investigated."
"Oh, that. It wouldn't have mattered what he thought, anyway. I'm just glad he found your family for you."
"Are you?" Summer reached over and tugged at his cravat. "I'm just trying to make you more comfortable."
"Ah."
"Monte's family is overjoyed at the prospect of a marriage with me now." Summer slowly pulled the cloth away from his neck, wishing she were that piece of silk. The man acted as if undressing him at table were nothing out of the ordinary, that her toes curling into his calf had no effect on him whatsoever.
While she was being driven to distraction.
"So, are you?"
Summer reached across the table and ran her hands over the sides of his neck, curled her fingers into that soft blond hair. "Am I what?" She traced her fingertip over his lips, loving the feel of the tiny cleft in his lower one. He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just opened his mouth and captured her finger inside and suckled. She felt the pres sure of it between her legs and snatched back her hand. The itch had become unbearable, and she squirmed against the seat cushion, no longer able to separate her mind from her body, because it had started to scream at her for relief. Seducing this man was hurting her.
Byron released his hold on her neckline and gripped both her shoulders. "Are you going to marry him?"
"Oh." Summer panted. "No, no. Who cares about him?"
Byron smiled. "Not I." He slid his hands down her shoulders, pulling at the light material, making the neckline of her gown sag even lower. He spread his fingers over her soft skin and realized through a fog that something hard had grazed his leg. Summer's knife. She wore her knife. The pressure of his erection was nothing compared to the throbbing he instantly felt. It was as if that part of him had a life of its own, and he'd never, ever, felt anything like that before.
"I'm just as good as you are," she blurted. "And I can't take it anymore!"
Byron looked up with alarm at the sudden anger in Summer's voice. What had he done? He was supposed to seduce her, not make her hate him. He'd made a mess of it, all because he couldn't control the reactions of his own body. Or the ignorant words out of his own mouth. "Huh?"
"I lied," snapped Summer, her itch now unbear able. "I didn't ask you here to th-thank you. I asked you here to… to…"
"To what?" he growled, more angry with himself than he could have ever imagined.
"To seduce you! And you don't even have the decency to… be seduced!"
Byron froze. He didn't know whether to laugh or shake her. "I also sent you a note. I found it still under your door."
Summer blinked at him.
"I asked to see you. So that
I
could seduce
you
." And he took his arm and swept it across the table, scattering dishes and tea and lace doilies across the floor. And he stood.
I
could seduce
you
." And he took his arm and swept it across the table, scattering dishes and tea and lace doilies across the floor. And he stood.
Summer gasped at the sight of him. His erection bulged through his pants; she could see it clearly outlined, even the curve where she knew he was most sensitive, where she'd run her tongue…
She opened her mouth, and something like a squeak came out of her throat.
Byron reached across the table and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her out of her chair, bringing his mouth to her own with a gentleness that belied his actions. He didn't so much kiss her as consume her, his lips hot and his tongue insistent. Summer let him swallow her whole and still longed for more.
Somehow the table was no longer between them.
He lifted her up and set her bottom on that small table, raking her skirts up around her waist, pushing down her neckline until her breasts sprang free. He gave them all the attention that Summer had craved, licking and suckling until she started to moan with the pleasure of it. He rested his hands on her silk drawers, and she could feel the heat of them branding her lower thighs, and then moving upward, until his thumbs brushed against the slit in the fabric, and he let out a groan of pure delight.
Summer reached forward and unbuttoned his pants, pulled him out none too gently, grateful that she no longer had to pretend indifference.
Byron pulled her bottom toward him, glad that the table was so low. He plunged inside of her and came with an explosion that rocked him to the soles of his feet. He hadn't done that since he was a boy, but no matter, for he knew it was just the beginning, that he'd stay rock-hard for a long, long time. So he didn't pause a beat but continued his rhythm, more aware of her pleasure now than his own. And completely unashamed of his initial selfishness, because the woman knew she'd driven him to it.
Summer held on to his shoulders and begged him for more. She wrapped her legs around his back and squeezed, drawing him deeper, filling her body and soul and heart with the strength of this man. And came with the sound of his name on her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and saw the chaise over his shoulder and smiled. She needn't have worried, not with Byron.
Byron held her in his arms, kept himself inside of her, a feeling unlike any he had ever known washing over him. This small, graceful woman had become his entire world, and he'd gladly give his life for her. It was frightening and empowering, all at the same time.
"Did you mean it, Summer? When you said you were worthy of me?"
She continued to hold him tightly to her, and her voice spoke at his ear. "Certainly. Now the question is whether you're worthy of
me
."
me
."
Byron frowned, gently pulled her away so he could look into her eyes. He refused to allow her to let anything come between them ever again. "Of course not. Will you marry me anyway?"
Summer felt herself drowning in the softness of his gaze. Where had that snobbish, arrogant man gone to? She watched the way one golden brow quirked upward, the curve of his lips that might be considered a sneer by someone who didn't know him as well as she did. Oh yes, the Duke of Monchester was still every bit as arrogant as he always appeared to be. But not to her, never again. All she had to do was look into his eyes to see beyond the surface to the real man inside.
"Of course I'll marry you."
Byron nodded, as if he never doubted her answer. Inwardly, he sighed with profound relief. "Then I'd prefer you to be on something softer."
She blinked those amber-colored eyes at him. "You mean… again?"
He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the other door in the room, which he assumed was her bedroom. Byron held her with one arm while he turned the door handle.
"I really should warn you…" started Summer. But she spoke too late. The door swung open, and the room erupted with flying fur. Moo-moo sprang from the bed back to her curtain when the cat caught sight of the stranger. Lefty barked furiously, jumping on the bedding in his lopsided way. Sweetie took one look at Byron and ducked his head back under the bed.
"What is that?"
Summer saw him staring at Sweetie's hind end.
"It's a dog."
"That's not a dog; it's a small pony."
Summer shushed her critters.
Byron sighed. "Lionel is going to be ecstatic. Don't you adopt any normal pets?"
"Only if they need me."
Byron set her down, watched her calm her animals,
his eyes glowing with love. Then he stepped forward and introduced himself to the rest of his new family.
***
The next morning, Byron shook his son awake.
Sleepy blue eyes blinked up at him. "Did she like your kisses, Father?"
"Yes. Now hurry and get up; we have a wedding to go to."
"Capital!" said Lionel, bouncing out of bed. "Can we take her home, then?"
Byron nodded, poured cold water into the basin, and slapped it on his face. He'd had very little sleep last night and couldn't help the grin of satisfaction that followed the thought. "Her and the rest of the family."
"Who, her new grandmother?"
"No, although I think with time they'll come to visit. I meant the rest of her 'critters.'"
"She's got more?" Lionel couldn't help but miss India, Chi-chi, and Rosey. And since he'd had to leave Hunter in London, he'd felt terribly lonely in America whenever his father couldn't be with him. The thought of new companions made him think that the voyage back home wouldn't be as awful.
Byron dried his face with a cloth and peered at his son from over the edge. "She's got a three-legged dog, another with four legs, but the size of a pony, and a mad cat that climbs curtains for comfort."
He watched his son's face light up with joy. "I'm dreadfully glad you got Summer back, Father! Our life will never be boring again, will it?"
"No, son, I'm afraid it won't," Byron replied, his own heart flooding with joy.
And it will never be
lonely again,
he silently added as he brushed off his best top hat.
And it will never be
lonely again,
he silently added as he brushed off his best top hat.
Acknowledgments
A special thank-you to Dominique Raccah and Deborah Werksman of Sourcebooks, whose enthu siasm and support put this book into reader's hands.
About the Author
Kathryne Kennedy
is a multipublished, award winning author of magical romances. She's lived in Guam, Okinawa, and several states in the U.S., and currently lives in Arizona with her wonderful family—which includes two very tiny Chihuahuas. She welcomes readers to visit her website, where she has ongoing contests, at
www.KathryneKennedy.com.
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