11. A Carriage Ride

A CARRIAGE RIDE

J eremy didn’t care that he was revisiting trouble when he drew her onto his lap. But having her weight settle atop him felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“Is it because of the vase?” he teased. “Because I’ll have you know I’ve already located a replica that was made right here in London.”

“You did? You are teasing me.” But she was smiling now, sliding her hand up his chest and then onto his shoulder.

“You always give me reason to smile, did you know that?” Jeremy leaned his mouth very close to hers and then, tempted by the uptilt of her lips, closed the distance completely.

She welcomed his kiss with a soft sigh.

“Forgive me?” he asked.

“Always,” she breathed in answer.

At first, the kiss was a tender dance of memories, apologies, and forgiveness. But when she wound her other hand around his neck and arched into him, Jeremy’s heart raced, and he unbuttoned her coat with one hand while his other clutched her tightly against him.

“Jeremy.” Her whispered sighs ignited an almost unnatural desire to please her.

With her coat unfastened, Jeremy dipped his hand inside and cupped her breast over the fabric of her gown.

His fingertips located the tops of her stays, and he trailed them along the edge. She was a lady. If he had any honor at all, he would have asked for her hand the day he’d kissed her in the warehouse, and then again at Heart Place.

If he had any honor at all, he would have begged her to be his wife the day she’d come to Galewick Manor after he’d stormed out of his meeting with her brothers.

Honor wasn’t the simple concept he’d always believed it to be. Because the loyalty a man felt wasn’t limited to one person. And if it was, it could become a trap.

Is that what honoring his brother’s memory had become?

Lydia moved to twist around on him, just as she had before, but this time, he held her in check.

“But…”

Jeremy cut off her delicate protest easily enough. “Let me,” he whispered against her lips. “I want to touch you.”

His hand abandoned her breast so he could gather her skirts in his fist, edging the hem up past her knee to where her stocking ended—stockings held in place by silk ribbons wrapped around each perfect thigh. He was glad the curtains on the window had been left open, allowing enough light from the moon to filter inside so he could fully appreciate those perfect thighs. Plump, pale, and tender. The blood thrumming through his veins felt like fire.

“I want to taste you.” Everywhere . He plucked at one of the ribbons, and then dipped his hand between her legs, brushing the back of his fingers over skin that was more delicate than a butterfly’s wings.

Her gaze, occasionally reflecting flashes of the moonlight, didn’t waver from his. It was so very like her, not to shy away from her feelings or to question something that felt so natural and right.

He skimmed up that soft skin to caress the petals at her opening. “You like this?” His own breathing sounded loud in his ears. She was wet and slick and willing.

“Yes.” So straightforward. “I want…”

“What?”

“More.”

Jeremy took only a moment to fondle her seam before extending his finger inside. “Like that?”

She licked her lips and nodded.

He didn’t know what excited him more, touching her like this, or watching her while he did so. As he moved in and out, and then stretched her with a second finger, her breaths turned into gasps, and all the while, she gazed at him trustingly.

It felt more intimate than anything he’d ever done.

He drew lazy circles around velvety flesh and then explored higher.

“Jeremy!” she surrendered, closing her eyes and dropping her head backward.

There was so much wonder about her. Jeremy drank in the graceful length of her neck, her breasts heaving, the tip of her tongue as it reached just beyond the pearls of her teeth.

The carriage was turning, and the light from one of the street lanterns gave him a glimpse of his arm reaching between her legs. The sight amplified the throbbing in his cock, and he closed his eyes, willing her to reach around and?—

He never quite finished that thought when the springs on the carriage suddenly sent the two of them flying.

His driver jerked the vehicle but had failed to avoid the large rut hidden by the darkness.

Holding Lydia on his lap, and both hands, er, occupied, Jeremy barely managed to cushion her fall as both of them were thrown to the floor.

The carriage came to a halt, and here they were again, him fully clothed and entirely too aroused for the circumstances. Or perhaps it was understandable.

Because once again she was straddling him, each leg bent at the knee along his hips and her center pressing down in such a way that was certain to lead to far greater improprieties.

“Pardon my driving, my lord! My apologies to the lady. Is everyone all right back there?” Lydia heard the driver’s voice through the sliding door, but when she went to speak, nothing came out.

“I believe so, Phillips. Are you hurt, Lydia?” Jeremy’s voice sounded even as his body vibrated beneath her.

“No. No. I’m fine.” At least her voice was functioning again.

“Would you like me to turn for Heart Place now, my lord?”

Lydia went to move, but Jeremy’s hands held fast to her hips. “Not quite yet. I’ll let you know.”

“Very good, my lord.” The small door slid closed then, and after a moment, with a gentle lurch, they were on the move again.

With no way to keep her balance, Lydia fell forward, dropping her hands onto Jeremy’s shoulders. “You are my prisoner now,” she teased. Of course, he could escape if he wanted to.

She knew he did not.

“Do you trust me, Lydia?”

Her eyes were adjusted to the darkness on the floor now, and she could almost make out his features. “Of course, I do,” she answered softly. Despite everything, she would always trust him with her life.

But his next words gave her pause.

“Walk forward on your knees.” He was still holding her hips but was now urging her to move. “Grab the straps by the window.” She already knew he was aroused by their position, in fact, she was becoming quite educated as to this particular phenomenon. Then why? “And hold onto them tightly.”

He was gathering her skirts again, pushing them up and urging her higher, toward his...

But if she kept inching forward like this…

His hands on her bare thighs kept her moving, and then lifted her.

If the rocking of the carriage hadn’t sent her hands suddenly grasping for the straps, the sensation of Jeremy’s whiskers along her inner thigh would have done so.

Gripping them, she went to pull herself up.

“Trust me?” His words drifted up from beneath her skirts at the same time the heat of his breath warmed the place between her legs.

Where she knew she was wet from moments before.

“I do but— Ah… ah…” She squeezed the leather straps when intense pleasure shocked her into acquiescence. “You shouldn’t! Oh, good heavens! Jeremy!” She nearly melted when she felt his jaw graze over her apex followed by a hot, wet stroke of his tongue.

Except he chose that moment to pause. “Shall I continue?” His voice vibrated her insides intimately.

“Um… Please?” This.

It felt too good.

He couldn’t stop now. She would die. She would simply die!

He chuckled beneath her, and Lydia jumped.

“Come back here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” With the side of her face pressed against the cool glass of the window, she was determined not to fall apart. He’d said he wanted to taste her, but she’d had no idea he’d meant—she simply had had no idea.

The same feelings she’d had when they broke the vase were building steadily again. And then not so steadily. Because with each stroke and thrust he made below her, she pictured him there. His tongue. The whiskers along his jaw. The image itself was enough?—

“Yessssss!” Hot and cold lightning shot through her veins. The leather slipped through her fingers as sharp pleasure took hold and she all but collapsed, trying to move off him while mumbling an incoherent apology.

“I’ve got you, love,” he answered beneath her skirts, adding something that sounded like, “and I’m never letting you go.” But she couldn’t be certain.

When she finally discovered her muscles again, she squirmed, and he assisted her down to lay beside him.

The carriage wasn’t all that wide, forcing him to bend his legs up and her to lay half on top of his chest, one leg thrown over his waist.

She wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable. Not even when he turned to claim her mouth, and she tasted herself in his kiss. Being with him was… It was wonderful.

“That was… unexpected.” She had to say something. They couldn’t roll around Mayfair all night, after all.

“I’ve been imagining that for three days now.”

“You haven’t!”

“Planned this very scenario.”

He’d provided her with glimpses of this side of himself before—with a dry joke or a secret grin. And each time, she’d tumbled even deeper into love.

Trouble was, now that she’d experienced him this way, she wasn’t at all certain she could ever let go again. And yet she might not have a choice.

He might love her, but would it be enough for him to get over whatever had caused him to push her away to begin with?

“Sleepy?” He held her tucked against him in a way that partially dispelled some of her concerns.

“Hmm…” Lydia hummed in contentment, memorizing his cedary scent so she could summon it when they were apart. “You must be exhausted though.”

He laughed. “It was a good day. But I suppose I ought to take you home.” He shifted both of them off the floor and onto the bench and kissed the top of her head. “Allow me to correct that. Today was much better than good. It was practically perfect.”

Lydia wondered if her maid would think she looked like the cat who ate the canary when she came in. Feeling daring, she reached her hand across to his lap.

“I know precisely what you need.”

When he grasped her wrist and stilled her hand over his straining member, she realized she’d guessed rightly.

“We’ll have time enough in the future to… ahem, address my situation properly. In the meantime—” Jeremy turned and caught her up in an almost desperate embrace just as the carriage pulled to a stop outside of Heart Place. Knowing they had only a few moments before the footman would open the door, he pulled back, breathing heavily.

“I have mountains of work waiting for me tomorrow,” he all but growled. “But I miss you already.”

“It can wait a day, can it not?”

“Minx.” He brushed the side of her mouth with his thumb. “Come with me to visit the warehouse in the afternoon?”

Even shrouded in darkness, there was no missing the light of hope in his eyes.

“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate.