Page 76 of His Spirited Lady
“It is, thank you. I keep finding reasons to enjoy it.” One was that it would give him an excuse to visit England on a regular basis.
“If you’ll excuse us.” Althorne leaned forward to whisper. “My wife is allergic to cigars. She needs air.”
“The nearest terrace attracts the most smokers,” Richard warned. “Use the library exit.”
The man nodded his thanks as he ushered his wife from the room.
“They are fascinating.” Amelia took Richard’s arm, her betrothal ring glittering against her white skin. “Thea has the countess’s book in the library, and the earl is in trade. I wonder how he managed that.”
“Likely the same way a French-Canadian lumberjack managed to escort the most successful business owner in London.” He led her onto the dance floor. “I am very proud of you. Have I said that?”
“Not it so many words, but we haven’t been alone.”
She tilted her chin so she could meet his gaze, exposing most of her neck in the process. If he followed the curve, it went straight down her cleavage. Thank God he was tall enough to see it and that he was the one dancing with her. “We aren’t alone now either.” It was a reminder to him as much as to her.
“Everyone is alone on a dance floor, Richard.”
He couldn’t hear her say his name without thinking of their night in the library. Holding her in his arms recalled carrying her to her bedroom and the temptation to crawl onto the mattress beside her. He needed to redirect his thoughts before his cock became their threesome in this waltz. “You stood up for yourself quite well today.”
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper,” she sighed. “For someone in an organization to help women advance their stations, Lady Barber isn’t very helpful to younger generations.”
“Oliver and I ran into similar obstacles starting out.” It hadn’t been helped by Oliver’s abysmal French. “We used it to fuel our determination on bad days. And then we invited them all for drinks to celebrate our second groundbreaking.” He looked down into her smile. “Which is along the lines of what you did.” She had also added a few names to her waiting list of buyers.
She’d have to expand before long.
“Foolish girl!” The shout stopped movement on the crowded dance floor so everyone could stare.
At the end of the room, a maid was on her knees scrambling to retrieve ruined food from the floor. An outraged lord leaned over her. “You’d best hope there is no damage…”
Amelia’s hand tightened on his arm as she observed the overwrought tableau, her head tilted as though she were studying another barrel in her bottling room. After a moment, her gaze met his before traveling down his torso to the most troublesome part of his anatomy. After a glance at the floor, she giggled softly. “No wonder Jasper hit him.”
Richard coughed to hide his chuckle, but her obvious glee ruined his efforts. Hand in hand, they hurried from the room. Once on an empty terrace in the cool air, she dissolved into peals of laughter and dragged him with her.
“Who knew poetry could be so naughty?” She wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Limericks generally are.” Richard nudged her into the shadows to prevent discovery, though if the moon hit her hair, they were done for. Because one look at the challenge in her eyes and he was lost.
“There once was a girl from Dumbras.” He skimmed his fingers from her shoulders to her wrists. “Who had an incredible ass.” His hands flexed on her hips. “Not round firm and pink, like you really might think.” He took a handful of her silk-covered behind. “But had long brown ears and ate grass.”
Amelia laughed with her whole body, vibrating against his fingers as her breasts jostled against his chest. “I keep imaging bottoms with ears bouncing around a field.”
And now, so would he. Richard hauled her against him and sealed his lips over hers, kissing her until he was drunk on her happiness. And drunk, hungry people grew ravenous. He tightened his hold and rocked her against him, tormenting his body even as he reveled in her gasp.
“Ow.” She pushed against him enough to get his attention.
He was an arse, and not a happy one bouncing in a field. He released her and stepped back. “I hurt you?”
“It’s not bothersome, but you like to grab the same place every time.” She rubbed her palm over her behind. “Your finger marks will have finger marks.”
The thought of leaving his marks on her body made him harder, hungrier. He was a bastard of the worst kind. “We should go in.”
He let her pull him back into the shadows.
“So if I was on my knees like you were last night,” she whispered.
He was going to have to talk to her cousin about what he’d put in the punch. “No, Amelia.”
“I think I can imagine.” Her knee grazed the inside of his thigh—which meant she had that foot off the ground.
