Chapter 12

CHAPTER12

“My Lord?” Bridget whispered into the air as she reached the library.

She knew she should not be here at this time of night, that she shouldn’t have agreed to Lord Ramsbury’s request, but she couldn’t help it. Whether it was her curiosity to know what his next lesson would be, or just her longing for his company, his excitement, she was no longer sure.

“My Lord?”

“You came,” a voice sounded from the darkness.

Bridget closed the door behind her as she looked around. Lord Ramsbury’s silhouette was sitting by the window of the library. Beside him was a telescope, which he had evidently been using to look at the stars.

“I thought my lesson was to be in the art of seduction, not stargazing.”

“Marveling at something beautiful,” he whispered. “Hmm. I can see the crossover.”

Bridget was rather glad of the darkness and the fact he hadn’t bothered to light a candle, for she felt her face flush with heat.

“Would you like to learn something more from me?” he asked, his voice deepening.

“Did you doubt it?”

She thought of the way their feet had brushed under the card table again just minutes ago, how their ankles had locked together, their thighs brushing too. They were lucky that the parlor had been so dark with only a few candles lit tonight. There was something naughty about having done it when Lord Burnington had also been sitting at the card table, but she couldn’t doubt herself.

“Come. Look at the stars for a minute.”

Bridget let her eyes adjust to the darkness a little more before creeping toward the telescope, avoiding tripping over the stools and the rug. When she reached the window, she stopped before the telescope that poked through the mostly drawn curtains.

In the small gap that was left between the curtains, a glimmer of moonlight shone through, offering just a shaft of pale light, though it did little to help her see.

Bending down, she placed her eyes against the narrow ends of the telescope. A myriad of stars appeared before her in the darkness, all glittering like fine gemstones. There was something so peaceful about the image that she didn’t at first notice Lord Ramsbury had moved until she felt his hand on her waist.

She slowly stood straight, no longer looking through the telescope. His hand stayed on her waist as if he was testing the waters but not wishing to push it.

“What can you teach me?” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

“That sensation we talked about before. How a man and a woman can be together without crossing every boundary. How you can indulge in the excitement of one another—the thrill.”

Bridget grew breathless at his description, desperate for the taste of the thrill. She even licked her lips as she slowly turned around to face him. In the darkness, she could just trace the outline of his jaw, but nothing more.

“Do you wish for instruction?” Lord Ramsbury whispered, moving his head toward hers and hovering his lips over hers.

It was a temptation, a taunt, a promise of something, but she had to say yes first.

She swallowed and leaned toward him. “Yes, I do,” she said, a hair’s breadth from his lips.

Her breath was sweet on his lips, and Lord Ramsbury could no longer hold back. He closed the distance between them and kissed her.

It started as a slow kiss, a mere press of their lips together, but as his hand slid across her waist to her back, he drew her in further so that her body was pressed against his own. She could feel the hardness of his chest, the strength of muscles there as she placed her hands on the hard planes. He wasn’t wearing his tailcoat, for her hands found his waistcoat straight away.

He angled his head to hers, deepening the kiss as he had shown her before. Bridget gasped at the sensation of his tongue meeting her own. The now-familiar heat spread through her, yet she was not prepared for what he did next.

Seth’s grasp shifted. His hand moved to her hip, and his other hand came down to join it, resting on her other hip. The heat took over so strongly that her fingers curled around the edges of his waistcoat, making her do things without really thinking about it.

He backed her up. While it had started slow, their movements became quick and erratic. They nearly knocked over the telescope as he urged her toward the rococo settee at the side of the room, where he had been sitting when she had first entered. She ended up kneeling on it, still trying to maintain their kiss for as long as possible.

He bent over her, his hands shifting from her hips to her skirt. Slowly, he drew the skirt up.

When the material teased her skin, making her tremble with excitement, she broke their kiss, leaning back to stare at his shadowed face.

“Sit on the very edge of the settee,” Lord Ramsbury instructed her, his voice soft.

Bridget rather liked the idea of him giving her commands. It was playful in this secluded spot, their own special secret.

She did as he asked, perching on the very edge, as he kneeled down before her. He reached beneath her skirt, not quite lifting it all the way, and his hands found her thighs.

One of his hands toyed with the top of her stocking, pulling at the ribbon that held it tight until it was completely loose. His other hand trailed up her thigh higher still, taunting her with light touches of his fingers on her bare skin.

Her breathing grew labored, her chest rising and falling so fast that she could almost feel her breasts straining against her corset.

“Now, do not move,” he pleaded.

Once more, she nodded.

He drew up her skirt, bundling it around her hips, so her stocking-clad legs were completely exposed. Though he had already loosened one of her stockings with his fingers, he bent down, and Bridget watched with her lips falling apart as he used his teeth to untie the ribbon of the other one. It fell away as his lips brushed against her bare legs. With both of her stockings loose, Lord Ramsbury grabbed the material and tugged them down.

The shock of the sudden urgency against the painfully slow softness that came before somehow made the thrill greater for Bridget. She could feel a wetness pooling between her legs, and she wondered what he would do next.

He pushed her shoes and stockings away, then took her thighs in his hands and spread her legs. Bridget gasped at the sensation of cold air against her core, which was quickly masked as Lord Ramsbury moved forward, nestling his hips against hers.

She could have sworn that the sensation of wetness grew greater as he slowly rocked his hips against hers. The fact that it was reminiscent of what sex would be like had her breathless, imagining what it could be like.

Would he truly make love to her now, despite saying he was showing her something else? What would it be like? Would she moan his name? Would he cry out hers?

He bent toward her, his face finding the crook of her neck. He kissed a path down her neck and across the opening of her gown, playfully nipping the crests of her breasts as his hips continued to rock against hers.

“Teach me,” Bridget begged, the words tumbling from her lips.

“Every touch, every… tease,” Lord Ramsbury whispered as he nipped her once more, “heightens the pleasure. Never be afraid to touch, Bridget.”

She raised her hands, emboldened by his words. Her hands found his waistcoat, and she reached for the buttons, fumbling to undo them.

“Just so,” he whispered, returning to kissing her neck.

He moved his lips to her earlobe and playfully bit it. It was such a soft yet heightened sensation that Bridget almost stopped pulling at his buttons. When she grew slower, he took things into his own hands, quite literally, and went to help her with the buttons.

When all the buttons were unfastened, together they brushed his waistcoat off his shoulders, looking one another in the eye. She could just make out his green orbs in the darkness now. They seemed hooded as he stared at her.

As the waistcoat dropped to the floor, she reached for his shirt next. The unmistakable sign of his smile grew.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Never be afraid with me.”

Bridget pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the ground too. When his chest was finally bare, she raised a trembling hand and started to explore, feeling increasingly confident with each second that passed. She ran her hands down his chest, marveling at the strong tension marking the center, right down to his abdominal muscles. Above the edge of his trousers, there was a distinctive v shape, one that had her mouth watering as she longed to see beneath.

“My turn to explore,” he whispered in her ear, kissing her once more before he bent down. She was shocked she could no longer touch him and stilled, watching what he was doing. “You wish to be taught what can happen between a man and a woman? Something that simulates the final act of sex?”

“Yes,” she whispered breathily.

“Then let me show you.” He kissed the top of her thigh, shifting her skirt a little more so he could place his lips on her hip next.

Bridget’s hands tightened on the settee cushions behind her as she watched him. She supposed she should have felt embarrassed that her core, the most private part of her body, was exposed to him, but strangely, she didn’t. She just wished to know more, to know what he would do next.

His hand slid under her right thigh, reaching for her buttock. Shocked, she gripped the cushions tighter as he angled her core upward and toward his mouth.

Amazed that the first intimate touch she ever knew from a man was his tongue, Bridget inhaled sharply.

The feel of Lord Ramsbury’s tongue on her core was a pleasure unlike anything she had imagined. It was somehow deeper, all-consuming. A tingling warmth spread through her core and up her chest, just as her toes curled on either side of him.

He grew stronger in his touches. What had begun as fleeting flicks of his tongue became so fervent that he was practically lapping at her. Bridget lifted a hand and bit onto the back of her wrist, trying to stop the breathy moans that were clawing up her throat.

He grew faster now. Each push of his tongue, each lap, drove her to new dizzying heights. She panted, her head falling back on the settee cushions. With her body tipping backward, he moved up a little, his body practically over hers as he continued to pleasure her core.

She had not for one minute imagined that this was what he had been referring to when he had talked about simulating sex. Even her sisters had never talked about such a thing, and she could see why, when the act itself felt so intimate, so overpoweringly thrilling.

Bridget’s legs began to quiver as, abruptly, Lord Ramsbury changed what he was doing. Moving his lips a touch higher, he found a bundle of nerves at the top of her sex and concentrated on it. He drew his hand from her rear and under her thigh, then slipped a finger into her core.

The sudden hardness and pressure had Bridget losing the battle not to make sounds. She moaned, short, stuttered gasps escaping her mouth as her body grew increasingly tight. Lord Ramsbury never stopped, not once. He just continued to pleasure her, increasing the pressure and the speed, until she was a mess.

Bridget practically writhed on the settee, feeling a tightness building in her lower abdomen. She didn’t know what it meant, but for some reason, she felt she should tell him.

“My… My Lord,” she managed to gasp.

He lifted his lips, just an inch. “My name is Seth, Bridget. Moan that, not my title. I beg of you.”

“Seth…”

There was something so forbidden about the idea that for some reason, the pleasure grew even greater. She no longer had time to warn him about this tightening feeling, nor to ask what it was. Seth returned his lips to her bud and kissed her hard.

With the pressure of his finger too, Bridget felt that tightening suddenly explode.

Her eyes closed and in the darkness, she saw stars, as if she was staring into the telescope again. Her whole body tingled as if that final overarching feeling of pleasure had ricocheted throughout her entire being.

Seth rode out the wave. He kept sliding his finger in and out of her, prolonging her pleasure, until, finally, the feeling faded.

Bridget’s whole body quivered, unable to stay still, as Seth moved above her and released her. He bent over her on the settee and kissed her forehead. As she caught her breath, his kisses grew faster. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her lips, and her neck once more.

“That was one lesson about what can happen,” he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly.

Bridget suddenly felt a distinct hardness pressing against her core. She flattened her hands to his bare chest, longing to find out more, to have another lesson now, to release him from his trousers.

“Just one lesson?” she whispered. “How many more lessons could you give?”

“There is much to learn,” Seth said with a mischievous chuckle. “But I think that was a good first lesson. Don’t you think?”

“Very much.” She laughed too.

Somehow, the laughter between them made things more intimate than before. Seth bent forward and rested his forehead against her own, and she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him closer.

“Quite a lesson, indeed,” she whispered after a minute or so.

Somewhere in the distant regions of the house, a door banged shut.

Seth jerked upward, his body still half covering hers. “Someone else is heading upstairs,” he whispered.

“She’ll be asleep by now,” Emily’s distinct voice echoed from somewhere in the hallway, followed by her footsteps on the staircase. “Leave it for now, Rachel. Speak to Bridget in the morning.”

“God’s wounds,” Bridget muttered. “They are going to my chamber.”

Seth laughed softly. “Best think of a good reason why you’re not there, then.”

He helped shift her gown down and picked her stockings off the floor. Bridget struggled to stand, her body still dazed and a tingly mess from what Seth had done to her.

She managed to pull the stockings back on, though she couldn’t get one of the ribbons to tighten. Seth did it for her, his hand lingering on her thigh a little too long.

“I’m supposed to be rushing back to my chamber,” she reminded him.

“I cannot help it,” he said with that mischievous smile. “I rather like instructing you.”

She playfully swatted his arm and pulled on her shoes too, just as he reached for his shirt and tugged it overhead.

“I look forward to our next lesson, Bridget.”

Bridget halted before reaching for the door, glancing back at him.

There will be another lesson like this?

She was thrilled by the idea, so much so that she nearly walked back toward him and kissed him right then and there.

What is happening to me?

“Until then. Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Bridget.”

She slipped out of the door.

Trying to seem completely at peace, Bridget moved toward the staircase, blinking at the candlelight that greeted her in the hall. She wiped the silly smile off her face as she thought of what they had done, even as she walked up the stairs.

She kept thinking of how he had touched her, the sensation, how he had moaned too when she had reached that pinnacle of pleasure, how his touch had become harder still as if he had wished for nothing more than to see her reach that edge.

As Bridget reached the landing, her footsteps stilled. She was nervous about crossing to her chamber and talking to Rachel and Emily. Would she be able to hide what she had done? To get rid of this overpowering smile?

Why did I like it so much?

The truth hit Bridget like a thunderbolt. It wasn’t just the idea of physical pleasure or even lust as to why she had liked it so much. Far from it. It was the fact that Lord Ramsbury—Seth, as he had begged her to call him—was the one who had done it. She had wanted him and no other at that moment. If he had even mentioned Lord Burnington’s name to her in that library, she was not sure she would have remembered who the Earl was.

I thought only of Seth. I only wished to think of him.

She walked down the corridor toward her chamber, where she saw Rachel and Emily standing outside her door.

“Ah, there you are,” Rachel huffed and turned toward her. “Where have you been?”

“I needed some fresh air,” Bridget hurried to explain.

“In this weather?” Emily didn’t look convinced as she pointed toward the window beyond which sleet was falling. Her smirk suggested she had an idea of where Bridget may have been, but Rachel was none the wiser and just continued to stare at Bridget.

“I stood out under the cover of the porch. I had a headache, and the fresh air did me good.”

Bridget’s words appeared to make Rachel believe her, at least. As she opened the door and stepped inside, she thought of Seth once more, her gaze darting to the bed as she imagined what it would be like if they had made it up here, instead of just to the library.

Would he have shown her everything? Would he have performed the ultimate act, as he had called it? The mere possibility made her heart flutter in her chest.

Oh, God, when did this happen? When did I start falling for Seth?