Page 63 of Unmasking a Wicked Marquess
“One minute more,” he begged. “We hardly have any time to be alone together at the moment.”
“I know.” She reached up one hand from the mallet and latched it around his waistcoat, pulling him down.
He didn’t have time to speak. He only had time to feel. He kissed her swiftly, moulding his lips to hers and tangling their tongues together. Such heat shot through them that they both started making sounds in their kiss. When he pulled back, just a hair’s breadth, she was panting.
“I wish you didn’t have to stop,” she whimpered.
“As do I.”
Something cracked nearby. It was as if someone else was walking through the woods.
Juliet dropped the mallet, and the stick fell on her toe.
“Ow!” She leaned against the trunk of the tree, gasping in pain.
“Ooh, that looked painful.” He caught the mallet handle and discarded it to the side, chuckling as she looked at him with an accusatory glare.
“Why are you laughing?” she said wildly. “Now that fool of a man will be trying to take my arm even more than before.”
“Then I shall have to make sure he has no chance to.”
“And how do you plan to do that, Edward?” she asked in sudden alarm as he took hold of her. Sweeping one arm around her waist and the other under her knees, he lifted her into the air.
Such a blush raced across her cheeks that he thought of the moment she had found release on their shared blanket, how she had moaned his name and bitten her lip at that final moment of pleasure.
“Do not look at me like that,” she said with a sudden giggle.
“Then place your arms around my neck, and I shall assist you back to the lawn.”
“What will the others say?” she hissed in panic as he walked away with her, happily leaving the mallet and the ball behind.
“Let them talk,” he urged, “I am not staying away from you, Juliet. Not anymore.” Such a smile took over her face that he wished he had taken the opportunity, after all, to ask her to marry him, but they could not possibly stay in the trees for much longer now without drawing attention.
As they appeared out of the cover of the trees together and he carried her across the lawn, more than one pair of eyes turned to look at them.
Mr Pensky was most put out, shifting and fidgeting with his overly laced cuffs. Violet and Viscount Brandon started whispering quite excitedly, and on the terrace where tea had been set up, more whispers had begun.
“How gallant!” the Duchess of Darby called happily as Edward, still carrying Juliet, walked towards them.
“I could probably walk, Edward,” she whispered up at him, though hardly fidgeted as if she wanted to be put down.
“Give me the excuse to have you in my arms for a minute longer,” he murmured, smiling at her.
When they reached the terrace, people gathered around, asking what had happened. Edward placed Juliet down in a chair as he looked across the terrace.
Philip had such a tight hold on Amelia’s arm as he watched Edward that she was actually batting him off her, saying he did not know the power of his own grip when he was startled. Lord Clarence, in contrast, stood perfectly still and at a distance, his expression such a baffling one that Edward found it completely unreadable.
“I am quite well, I assure you,” Juliet was saying to her mother and others who had gathered. “I managed to injure myself foolishly with the mallet, and fortunately, Lord Ashton was there to assist.”
“A kindness indeed,” Lady Clarence said swiftly, sitting down on Juliet’s other side. She sent what Edward rather hoped was an approving glance his way as he stood behind Juliet.
He’d lost any intention for secrecy now. Let him state some presence around Juliet, and then he might at least be able to drive away Mr Pensky’s insufferable attention towards her. It did not take much to provoke a response, however. The Duchess of Darby’s carrying voice could be heard as she attempted to whisper to others around her.
“Am I the only one who has noticed some intimacy between Lady Juliet and Lord Ashton? Perhaps the families are not so set against one another as we once thought.”
***
Meet me at the nursery at three o’clock.
