Regency Rogues: Stolen Sins: Forbidden Nights with the Viscount (Hadley's Hellions) / Stolen Encounters with the Duchess (Hadley's Hellions)

Yet another loss.

Steeling herself for the uncomfortable interview to come, she walked down to the parlour to await Giles Hadley.

She was pacing restlessly when he arrived, some fifteen minutes later. After a knock at the door, a puzzled footman showed him in, and he came over to take her hand and kiss it. ‘I’m afraid the groom forgot to leave the gate unlocked,’ he said, squeezing her fingers. ‘I had to bang and shout before I attracted attention, and he let me in and took my horse. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.’

He looked down at her face as he said that, and his smile faded. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing in concern. ‘What happened?’

She pulled her hand free, the nausea returning with her nervousness. ‘Nothing—except I’m an idiot. I’m very sorry, Mr Hadley—’

‘Giles. I think it’s past time for you to call me Giles, don’t you?’

Ignoring that, she began again. ‘I’m very sorry, and I know I’m acting like a perfect ninny, but…but I’m going to have to rescind my offer. I…I can’t do this.’

‘I see.’ He took a step back, studying her face. ‘You…no longer want me?’

‘No, that’s not it at all! Surely you know how much I want you—I promise you, I’ve never before in my life propositioned a gentleman! It was entirely the unprecedented strength of the attraction between us that drove me to it. That, and the bitter knowledge that the intimacy that brings such joy is precious, and often fleeting, meant to be seized and appreciated while we can. But I can’t risk it.’

Too agitated to remain still, she took to pacing the room, looking back at him as she spoke. ‘I’ll be indelicately blunt. Unlike most matrons who indulge in a tryst, I don’t have a husband who could cover up any…unfortunate consequences. I couldn’t bear to shame my father, and it would kill me to bear a child that I had to give up and could never acknowledge. And before you say anything, neither would I want to drag you into “doing the honourable thing”—forcing us into a marriage neither of us is prepared for.’

Sighing, she came back to stand beside him and looked up to meet his sombre gaze. ‘Yes, I still want—more than you can imagine. But for so many compelling reasons, I cannot have. I am so sorry.’ She swallowed hard, fighting back the humiliation of tears. ‘I…hope you will not think too badly of me.’

She tried to look away, but he took her chin and tilted it back to face him. To her surprise, his expression seemed…tender, rather than aggrieved. ‘I don’t think badly of you at all. Rather the opposite! After what my mother suffered, I understand only too well the penalty imposed upon a woman for a dalliance that a man enjoys with no risk of retribution. To deny what one so strongly desires, in order to not shame family or harm innocents, is an honourable act. But a carte blanche doesn’t have to be completely blank. One can write a few rules upon it.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Do you not?’ At her puzzled look, he laughed softly. ‘As I’m sure you know, there are many delightful ways to pleasure other than the…consummation that could put you at risk.’

She thought of how, after a long time apart, Robbie had been able to bring her to her peak with just a kiss, while he stroked and fondled. How at any time, his mouth and fingers could tease her closer and closer to that summit, close enough that she might have reached completion, even had he not claimed her.

But what of his pleasure? ‘Do you mean you could be satisfied with…less than full possession?’

In answer, he bent down and captured her mouth. Her lips acutely sensitive after her hasty journey from arousal to frustration to excitement to disappointment, Maggie moaned, his lips coaxing her immediately to response.

‘You see,’ he murmured, breaking the kiss. ‘So many delightful roads to pleasure. If a sensible caution is all that holds you back, you need resist no longer.’

‘But what if I…want more?’ she asked, by no means sure that, under the mind-numbing drug of passion, she’d have the will to restrain herself.

He chuckled again. ‘I’ll just have to refuse you. For protection’s sake, I shall retain the most essential part of my clothing. But do not worry, my sweet. I shall very much enjoy removing all of yours.’

It was a dangerous, outrageous suggestion—but she so wanted to believe it possible. The consequences for failure, however, would be dire.

Her conflict must have been written on her face, for he said, ‘Shall we try?’ Dropping her hand, he went to the hearth and plucked a poker from the fireplace. ‘If I should forget my resolve, use this.’

‘What if I forget?’

‘When you are satisfied, there will be nothing to forget.’

A tremor went through her at the thought. ‘And what of your…satisfaction?’

His eyes lit, the smouldering blue light irresistible. ‘I can show you the ways. Shall I? Now?’

He bent and kissed her again, unabashedly seductive, his tongue insinuating itself into her mouth, stroking, teasing, advancing and withdrawing. Dizzy, she clung to him, pressing against him, taking the kiss deeper, until they were both panting for breath.

She would burn to a cinder if she didn’t have this. ‘Now,’ she said. Knocking the poker aside, she took his hand and led him to her bedchamber.

Once inside the room, she pulled him to her. Angling her head up, she wrapped her his arms around neck and brought her lips to his for another sweet, drugging kiss meant to banish every possibility of misgivings or regret. But as they stumbled towards the bed, she realised muzzily that she wasn’t sure what should happen next, if the usual progression from kissing to completion was to be avoided.

Uncertain, she halted, and broke the kiss. His breathing ragged, he looked down at her, ran a finger gently over her cheek. ‘What is it? More doubts?’

‘Just…I’m not sure what to do…now.’ She waved towards the bed. ‘Perhaps better not to go there?’

‘How about here?’ He urged her to the end of the bed, sat her down and took a step back. ‘Now, you tell me what you want.’

‘What I want?’ she repeated stupidly.

‘Yes. How do I pleasure you best, my sweet lady?’

At the idea of boldly stating aloud how she wanted him to make love to her, she flushed scarlet. ‘I d-don’t know if I can,’ she stuttered, need warring with embarrassment. ‘I’ve…never done this before.’

He must have sensed she was on the brink of another panicked retreat, for he said quickly, ‘Let me imagine, then. If I do something you don’t want, just stop me.’

Before she could stutter out a reply, he sat beside her, wrapped his arms around her and leaned her back against him. Acutely sensitive to his touch, she jumped with surprise when, instead of the more intimate caress she anticipated, he began to massage her shoulders.

It felt heavenly, though, so good it quieted, for the moment, the shrill voice of passion that wanted more. After a moment, with a sigh, she relaxed against him, leaning back into the soothing ministration of his hands.

‘Yes, relax, my sweet,’ he murmured against her ear. ‘This is for you, only for you. At your pace, according to your desires. Only yours.’

Like water dripping off a roof after rain, she felt doubt and tension slide away, one small drip at a time, until at last she was emptied of all worry. As those turbulent emotions exited, need moved in to fill the space, until her whole body was smouldering in slow, sweet arousal.

As if sensing she was ready for more, he bent down to nuzzle her neck, then sucked and nipped his way towards her ear. She shuddered as he reached the sensitive spot below the lobe, then licked and suckled the edge. ‘Do you like that?’ his whisper rasped in her ear.

‘Yes,’ she breathed, squirming to turn so she might meet his lips.

But gently, holding her in place, he massaged from her shoulder down her arms and under, stroking along her ribs. With a whimper, she arched her back, straining to bring his caressing fingers up to her breasts.

Seeming to understand, he halted, lifting his hands up to cup her breasts. A long shuddering sigh escaped her as he rubbed his thumbs over each peaked nipple.

‘Do you want this?’ he whispered.

‘Yes!’

‘Tell me,’ he urged. ‘Tell me what you want.’

‘I want you to…to caress my breasts,’ she got out, finding it easier this time to voice the need.

She felt his hardness surge against her, and she realised, in a little flash of awe and gratification, that it aroused him to hear her say the words aloud. Emboldened by the knowledge, she said, ‘I want to feel your hands on my naked breasts.’

Ah, once again she felt that delicious hardness press more firmly against her as he bent to place a long, nibbling kiss on the nape of her neck. ‘Gladly.’