Page 28 of An Earl Like You
He muttered something profane and tore off his glove, and then it was his bare hand on her breast, his palm cupping her, his fingers teasing along the edge of her bodice until—oh heavens—his thumb went right over her nipple. Eliza’s start of shock turned into a shiver of ecstasy as he stroked the hard little nub again. He pulled her hard against him, until his hips met hers and she felt his unmistakable arousal. His mouth was hot and wet against her neck, and dimly Eliza thought that if he asked, she would tear off her dress and give herself to him right here on Lady Thayne’s terrace, in the rain, ten feet away from a ballroom full of people.Thiswas what it meant to want someone with a burning passion. Thank all the saints in heaven she’d got a chance to feel it once in her life...
He released her abruptly, clamping his hands on her elbows as she stumbled forward. He looked a little wild, with his hair mussed and his eyes burning. He quivered with every breath, and Eliza could only stare back. He’d kissed her until her brain melted and her tongue turned to lead. Good heavens, she wished he’d do it again.
“Eliza—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Miss Cross.” A thin line appeared between his brows, as if something confused him. “That went further than I planned,” he finally said, his voice very low and still rough with want.
She could barely give her head a helpless shake, and raise one hand in some futile gesture of forgiveness. A shudder went through him, and he let go of her. He half turned away, scrubbing his bare hand over his face. After a moment he faced her again, but there was something wild and unsettled in his expression. “I should return you to the ballroom. Your father will wonder where you’ve gone.”
Papa. OhLord. Eliza gripped her hands together. Papa would surely know from one glimpse of her face what had happened. She thought he would be pleased—elated, actually—but she didn’t want to hear him point out that he was right and wasn’t she glad for it. This kiss, this devastating, exhilarating, wonderful kiss still felt too fresh and alive on her lips. Papa’s gloating might sour it; he would be thinking of a wedding and grandchildren while she just wanted to revel in the knowledge that the Earl of Hastings found her attractive. He wanted to kiss her. He even wanted to make love to her.
Eliza supposed some fellow might have felt that way about her before, but this was the first time it was a man she wanted to kiss back. A man she wished would fall in love with her, and even make love to her until she expired of bliss.
Hastings bent and retrieved his glove. Eliza smoothed her hair with trembling hands, remembering how he’d torn off that glove to touch her. His gaze fixed on her chest as he rose, and she realized, with mortification, that her dress was askew. She turned her back, but his arms came around her.
“Let me.” His hands steady again, he ran his palms up her bodice to smooth her gown back into place. He took his time, his cheek against her temple, and Eliza tried not to shake like a leaf when his fingers brushed her nipple one last time before his hands drifted to rest on her hips.
He put his mouth next to her ear. “Should I apologize for what happened?”
The tiniest shake of her head.
His lips touched the sensitive skin behind her ear. “May I call on you—just you, not your father?”
Her heart was about to stop. She would faint and slide right through his arms to land in a senseless heap on the ground. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Thank you.” Gently he turned her around. Eliza gazed up at him, wondering if he could tell from looking at her that she was about to fall headlong in love with him. A small smile touched his lips, bemused but reassuring. “Until then, my dear.” He raised her hand and kissed it before very properly offering his arm. “We should return, before your father comes to call me out.”
A shaky laugh burst out of her. If only he knew how desperately Papa longed for her to have a suitor. “I would persuade him against it, my lord.”
He laughed. “I hope I could do that on my own, but I will never refuse your support.” He took her back into the ballroom, which now seemed incredibly loud and hot and crowded. Eliza whisked open her fan and waved it furiously, trying to dispel the blush she could still feel on her face.
The Earl of Hastings had kissed her. Had put his hands on her like a lover would. Had held her against himself as if he wanted to devour her. And then he asked to call on her. There was a chorus of joy thundering in her head, and she barely heard the earl’s words of farewell.
Papa had disappeared, but she soon caught sight of him, at the back of the room, deep in conversation with Mr. Grenville. Eliza made her way to his side, and he gave her a distracted nod. Mr. Grenville looked at her and flashed a knowing smirk, as if he knew what had happened. Eliza blushed all over again. Mr. Grenville was a rogue, and she prayed he wouldn’t say anything to Papa.
She stood quietly beside her father for some time, smiling blindly at the dancers and utterly uncaring of the fact that no one else asked her to dance. Every moment of her waltz, and then that kiss, spooled through her mind as if they were still happening, over and over again.
“I’ve had enough. Shall we go?” Papa’s voice made her jump.
“Oh! If you want to, Papa.” They went through the crowd and sent for the carriage. Eliza didn’t catch even the smallest glimpse of Lord Hastings.
“Did you enjoy the evening?” Papa asked when they were cocooned in the dark coach, heading home.
Eliza smiled to herself. “Yes, Papa. Very much.”
Hugh drifted through the ballroom, speaking to friends and acquaintances without remembering a word of what he’d said. Some commented with surprise on his choice of partner. He’d meant to make a statement, to Eliza and to society, and by God, he’d done it.
The thing was, he really hadn’t meant to do more than kiss her chastely. Just enough to declare his intentions and gauge her reaction. Instead he’d ended up almost ravishing her against the side of the house outside a ballroom filled with people. What was wrong with him?
She’d made him laugh, of course, saying she’d never been well kissed. A charming joke from a spinster. So he’d kissed her again, and somehow between the sensual little moans she made and the way her fingers dug into his shirt as if she wanted to tear it off, he’d gone a bit mad. He’d had her breast in his hand, for Christ’s sake.
The memory made a fine sweat break out on the back of his neck. Plump and firm with a thoroughly aroused nipple. He wanted to taste it. He wanted to strip her bare and lay her down and taste every inch of her, but especially those round tempting breasts. So much for fearing a shy, paralyzed virgin; she might be innocent, but Eliza had pressed against him and kissed him back until he completely forgot that he was pursuing her because of her father’s manipulations.
That thought cooled his blood somewhat. Edward Cross wanted him to court and marry his daughter, did he? Hugh smiled grimly. Cross was about to get exactly what he wanted.
And so was he. Not only Cross’s money, but Eliza herself.
Chapter 12
He went in search of his mother the next morning and found her in her private sitting room, with Edith beside her.
