Page 13 of The Lady
“Tell me what it might be and how I might be help? After your kindness in over this matchmaking scheme, I certainly owe you a great deal.” Not that he had any intention of pursuing any of the ladies he had met yesterday. It would not be fair to them when he was feeling so amorous towards the woman before him.
“It is complicated.” She got to her feet and moved away, reaching his desk, her hand landing on his list of requirements. “You decided against a blonde prospective bride?”
“I—”
“Miss Kindred was certainly very pretty, perhaps she tipped your decision.” She remarked casually, lowering the paper and looking up at him directly. “I should not be reading your notes, so it must be my punishment. Is that not the general advice about never prying into private matters? I am sure that is what people are told to do.”
Philip had been about to say he had no objection to her reading any of his notes or correspondence. But then, he saw his mother’s discarded letter and rose to his feet. He did not want the poison of his mother’s vehemence near Lady Flora.
He reached the desk and took up his note and the missive, stuffing them both in his pockets. “Sometimes I simply write down my thoughts without consequence, and it does not mean a thing.”
“I do the same.” Her eyes lifted to his, and there was so much hidden feelings there. An emotion he wished he knew the answer to, so he could ease her worries. “I hope if it is written down it will no longer be plaguing me.” Her eyelids closed, “But I find no relief to my fears.”
“Fears?” He tried to sound as soothing as if she was his patient, but unbidden he brought too much warmth to his question. He reached for her, resisting the urge to embrace her, and settling for taking her elbow. That faint but memorable scent of jasmine lingered now he was close to her, and Philip wanted nothing more than to step nearer still and bask in every delicate detail of Flora.
“I do not wish for my matchmaking to pair you with the wrong woman.” The words tumbled out, “I thought I would find a relief in matching you with someone, or having you pursue a lady. It was born out of a vindictiveness for your decade-ago dismissal of me—I am not some paragon of goodness you see. But I am reaping my just rewards.”
Unable to help himself, Philip chuckled. “I do not believe you a paragon, nor would I want anyone to be.” He leant closer. “How exhausting that would be.”
The tension broke, and Lady Flora smiled. The grin brightened her face, and a dimple appeared in her cheek. “That is true.”
“Perhaps it would be best,” Philip said as the weight of the bundled-up note lay heavily in his trouser pocket. “I should put aside the courting notion or asking you to find me a bride advertising in the newspapers.” He hoped to continue the light teasing note, but it did not land since Lady Flora’s face tightened, and she shook her head.
“I have a better idea. One I have not been able to put aside since last night.”
“Indeed?” Philip asked. It felt pointless. After all, she might parade half the women of England before him, and it might well not matter a jot. They would not have those wise before their years grey eyes that he so admired. They would not have the sweetness of disposition Flora had. There would be no welcoming note of jasmine to greet him. They would not…
“Yes, I have been considering, and I have decided it will not do. None of those women are suitable. For you.”
“Probably not,” Philip said morosely. “I shall have to settle for my numerous affairs with married ladies.”
“Lady Briers told me that none of those rumours are true.”
“And you believe it?”
Lady Flora moved nearer to him, boldly closing the distance until she was before him. “I realised I did not care if it was true or not. It is the past, and what I care about is the future.” She was so close now he could see the paleness of her lashes, the curve of her pinkened lips, and the shades of grey and slate in her eyes. It was torture of the deliciously tempting kind. How much he would like to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, and kissher. “That’s why I have come here today, to say what I should have said earlier. But now I think actions are better than words.”
With decided movements, Lady Flora placed her hands on his shoulders, one twisting amongst the curls at the back of his head, and rose on her tiptoes so only an inch separated them, their lips so near.
Philip was not sure who closed the distance, but their mouths met. The kiss started as a curious pressing of lips, tentative and gentle. Then Philip, driven by desire, affection, and need, pulled her flat against his body as his arms curved around her slim frame. The taste of her mouth was lush and maddening.
As an inelegant tangle of limbs and bodies they staggered backwards and into the nearby squashy armchair. He eagerly pulled Flora on top of his body, his fingers lacing through her hair, tugging loose the blonde strands, luxuriating in the silken finest. They continued to kiss. His tongue insistently rubbed and pressed against the seam of her lips, so when she sighed and her mouth eased, his tongue slipped inside, exploring her. The pressure became intense, all-consuming, as they learnt how the other moved. She filled his senses, and he realised he had been dreaming and hoping for this kiss for over a month, perhaps far longer. He could not remember feeling more excited, pleased alongside the mounting feeling of relief at having Flora in his arms.
When she stretched and let out a little moan, Philip dipped his head and kissed his way along her hairline, tasting her skin, enjoying her wriggling reaction as she fidgeted and gasped.
With a snaking hand, he hugged her close to him as Flora adjusted herself more securely atop of him. When their eyes met, she nodded as his free hand eased between the folds of her green skirt, moving past her chemise and finding the gap in her drawers. His fingers touched against the split in those flimsy undergarments, seeking the warm wetness which seemed to becalling to him. When his fingertip stroked through her curls, Lady Flora gasped against him.
“I never have—” His mouth sought out hers, giving a reassuring kiss.
“We can stop, all you need to do is tell me so.”
“Lud, no I came here for this.”
He kissed her again, so pleased to hear such affirmation from her. His fingers continued stroking with more strength as he learnt what might make her gasp. Or groan. The little mewing noises and kisses she gave him were more illicit and lovely than he could ever have imagined.
“Flora.” Her name slipped from his mouth as her own curious fingers started to slip between the folds of his trousers. Those soft hands running this way and that over his rumpled clothes, exciting him more than his fantasies ever had. There was something about having the live, real, breathing woman in his arms—but it was this woman, Lady Flora, who defied all expectations.
“Ahem,” came an amused little cough, startling them both out of their explorative kisses and touches and forcing them out of the armchair and onto their feet. There in the middle of the study was the handsome form of Philip’s older half-brother, Lord Langley.
