Chapter 13

Letty thought her heart might burst.

Vander was kissing her. It was actually happening. The moment she had spent an embarrassing number of hours dreaming about was finally here.

And she knew he wasn't kissing her for the usual reasons—desire, affection, love. He was doing her a favor. He was kissing her because when it came to kissing, she was inept. Which was slightly humiliating.

But in that pregnant moment when he had asked what she wanted, she hadn't hesitated. If this was her only opportunity to kiss the man she'd loved for half her life, she was going to seize it.

Vander's kiss was completely different from those she'd experienced with Bertie and Lord Throckmorton. His kiss was neither wet nor dry.

Vander's kiss was molten.

Not that Letty knew so much about kisses, but it didn't feel like Vander was kissing her as a favor. It felt like he really wanted her. She decided she was going to pretend it was true.

Vander sucked her bottom lip between his and she gasped. This was all the opening he needed to caress her lips with his tongue. It felt so beautiful that her body began to tremble.

Well. That wasn't quite true. She'd already been trembling, but her body began trembling harder, and she began to feel lightheaded to the point that she had to grab onto his shoulders for purchase. Vander wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest, and oh—that was better. Or maybe it was worse. She couldn't seem to make up her mind.

On the one hand, it was better in that his body pressing up against hers felt delicious, but it was much, much worse for her sense of vertigo.

He was doing something wonderful with his tongue, using it to caress hers in a way that made her knees wobble, and she thought that perhaps she should try to return the favor. Her attempts felt clumsy, but Vander gave an encouraging growl, which made her feel better about them.

There was one thing she had always wanted to do, and it occurred to her that this would probably be her one and only chance to try it. So, she slid her hands up from his shoulders and threaded her fingers into his hair. And oh! It was every bit as thick and silky as it looked. She couldn't help but run her fingers through it, and he groaned as she grazed his scalp with her nails.

He tore his lips from hers, and the sound of disappointment that emerged unbidden from her lips was slightly pathetic. But her disappointment didn't last long, because Vander promptly began kissing his way across her cheek, pausing at her ear before descending to her neck. And—merciful heavens—that felt every bit as good as it had when he was kissing her lips! Her back arched and she made a whimpering sound, and she could feel him smile against her neck for just an instant before he continued his journey south.

As his lips were moving down, his hands were moving up. She felt his thumb graze the lower swell of her breast. Suddenly she felt overheated in the chilly night air, and her nipples were throbbing against her stays. Vander's progress had slowed, and he was pressing hot kisses into the tender skin just above the neckline of her gown. Her fingers were still tangled in his hair, and she was wondering whether he would think her a hussy if she were to press his head lower when the sound of feminine laughter drifted across the night air.

Vander's head snapped up, and they both turned toward the arched door that was the only way in or out of the walled rose garden. Now two voices were distinguishable, a man's and a woman's, as well as the crunch of footsteps upon gravel.

Someone was coming. Someone was coming, and they were trapped within the walled garden, and Letty was about to be ruined.

Moving with the swift grace of a panther, Vander scooped her up in his arms, carrying her against his chest as he plunged knee-deep into the flowerbeds. Emerging into the strip of grass on the other side, he stepped behind a trellis as he set her down, pressing her as deep into the shadows as he could. He hastily flipped up the collar on his black evening coat to hide his white shirt, then unbuttoned it. "Here," he hissed, pulling the front flaps open, "put your arms inside."

His coat was certainly less conspicuous than Letty's yellow dress, so she hastily complied. His body was warm in the cool night air, and something about their position, his forehead pressed against her temple, her fingers stroking over the silk panel on the back of his waistcoat, felt so right, it was all she could do not to sigh aloud.

Her face was buried in his shoulder, so she couldn't see who the man and woman were, but she heard the crunch of their footsteps upon the graveled path. "It's so beautiful," the feminine voice exclaimed.

The footsteps stopped beneath the trellis behind which they hid. Letty could hear Vander's heartbeat thundering beneath her ear, and her pulse was flying just as fast.

"It is," the man replied. "But there's an even better spot, a gazebo." The footsteps resumed, heading back toward the arched door. "It's just a little farther down…"

The footsteps grew softer and the voices more muffled, until Letty was certain they had left the rose garden.

"Come," Vander whispered. "We should get you back to the party before we're discovered."

He scooped her up again and carried her through the flowerbed. They hastily straightened their clothing, then jogged hand-in-hand along the graveled path to the foot of the stone steps.

"Stay here," Vander whispered, then hurried up the stairs. He returned seconds later. "It's clear. We left the ballroom together, and we'll return together. If anyone asks, we've been on the balcony the whole time."

Letty nodded and accepted his arm. They climbed the steps and went through the French doors that led back into the ballroom.

She had to stop short to keep from ploughing into Lord Throckmorton.

"Lady Leticia, there you are. Your brother said you had stepped out onto the balcony with Mr. Beauclerk."

Vander's arm turned to stone beneath her hand. Letty glanced up at him and found his gaze fixed upon the far wall.

Lord Throckmorton did not seem to notice anything amiss. "I believe the next dance is mine."

He was probably right. Letty had no idea. Her interlude with Vander in the garden had wiped every other thought from her brain.

She accepted the baron's proffered arm. He turned to Vander. "Oh, and Beauclerk—Lord Trundley wanted to speak to you. He's over in the corner, talking to Lord Dormer."

Vander's eyes were darting all over the ballroom. "Oh, I… I don't have time to speak to him tonight, I have to, uh…" Straightening, he bowed over Letty's hand. "Lady Leticia, it has been a pleasure. Make my excuses to my mother, won't you?"

He spun on his heel, and Letty watched his dark head weave through the crowd and go out the ballroom doors.