Page 49 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Chapter 10
Paulette’s heartsparked with a hot rush of blood. His lips, his hands—she felt herself falling, wanting, pressing closer. His tongue touched her lips and she parted for him, letting him in. And his hands, oh his hands, they were touching her bottom like they had that first day, sending the fire into her center.
She felt the ripple of muscle in his shoulders and slid her hands higher, fingering the hair at his neck. She’d started all this, aiming for his cheek and kissing his neck, where the hard pulse under soft skin had driven her wild. She pressed herself closer and matched what he did, twining her tongue with his.
His hands gripped her harder and levered her up, pushing at her skirts until her warm female part smashed against something quite hard, and shocked pleasure surged through her. This was…He was…
She squeaked as he shuffled them over and her back touched the wall. His hands smoothed her legs, and cool air swirled. He brought her closer, tighter, his hard place rubbing up more shivers of pleasure.
Soft kisses moved over her cheek, down her neck and her bosom, and further, over the edge of her bodice. He took her nipple through layers of fabric and suckled.
She felt the jolt all the way to her privates, a hot, coursing lava melting her inside. She heard panting, hers, and a low grumble, his.
And the creak of a door latch.
Mr. Gibson froze, and the next moment she was standing and he was putting her dress in order.
She blinked. Her eyes had adjusted, but there was still not enough light to truly see, and no light had poured from an open bedchamber door.
There’d been no need to stop. No one would have seen them.
“To bed with you, love,” he said, his voice shaky. He pressed his lips to hers briefly. “Leave everything to me.”
When her bedchamber door closed on him, she leaned against it and hugged herself.
If anyone had peered out of one of the bedchambers, they would have seen nothing. It was too dark. She was achy and itchy, and all warm inside. They could have kept on.
Still…it had been her second compromising situation of the evening. Mr. Gibson had rescued her from Agruen—who surely would have tried to assault her—only to take liberties with her himself, liberties that if discovered would result in her being locked up in that small hut Shaldon had planned for them, with a man who would hate her for trapping him into marriage.
And she didn’t want that. Though she wouldn’t mind being kissed by Mr. Gibson again, because he certainly knew what he was about.
She touched the wet spot on her bodice and felt the tight bud he had created through the fabric.
And he had called herlove.
“I’m right sorry, Polly,” Mabel whispered nearby. “It was me opening the door.”
She closed her eyes. “Relight the candle, Mabel.”
Mabel shuffled about. “Oh my, he is a strong one.”
“Let it be, Mabel.”
The tinder sparked and started to glow, and the candle wick flamed, revealing Mabel’s broad grin. The maid came closer with the light and looked her over.
“If he tumbles you, you must make him marry you. You could do much with four thousand a year.”
She should never have told Mabel about the bequest. “Just help me out of this.”
Mabel stripped the dress off of her and looked at the bodice. “I’m not sure that wet spot won’t stain.” She was still grinning. “You’ve been gone quite a while. Their ladyships went off to bed ages ago.”
“And how do you know? Where were you, hmm? Out in the stables perhaps.”
Mabel smiled again, and then laughed.
“It’s not funny, Mabel. You must be careful of your reputation also. And perhaps you could see about that stain. I’ll need that dress for London.”
“Oh, aye.”
