Page 83 of Three Weeks with a Princess
What she hadn’t expected was his rejection of both those scenarios. What she hadn’t counted on was Jack laying hands on her and staking his claim.
One of those hands swept down over her chest to cup her breast. He swiped a thumb over the nipple, gently teasing it, and her feeble resistance crumbled into dust.
“Hmm, that’s nice.” An utterly satisfied smile raised the corners of his mouth as he flicked his thumb back and forth across the stiffening peak. “Do you think it’s nice, Lia?”
“I . . . yes,” she whispered. Her voice sounded as wobbly as the muscles behind her knees.
“Good,” he growled.
“And you’re sure?” she asked, still doubting. “Really sure?”
Because if he later regretted this she would simply die. Whatever else might happen between them in the future, she wanted this moment to be untouched by guilt—or anything that wasn’t passion or grace or even good, clean lust between two adults who knew exactly what they were doing and why.
He cradled her face between his palms. “Love, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Oh, I . . . well, that’s all right, then.”
His quiet laugh was rueful. “Please trust me, Lia. Trust me as you always have. As you know you can.”
She let his words sink into her heart, because that was where trust lived. “Always, Jack.”
“Thank God.” He swept her into his arms, lifting her high against his chest. “Because your costume is driving me insane. I’ve spent the entire evening trying not to look at your breasts and wanting to murder every man who did look at them.”
She hid her face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m such a trial,” she said, trying not to laugh.
“Oddly, I don’t seem to mind,” he said, “at least not at the moment.”
That brought her head up. “Because you’re going to have your evil way with me?”
“Indeed I am,” he said, sounding remarkably cheerful. He looked cheerful, too, albeit in a lustful way. In fact, he seemed much more like his old self than the man who’d spent months struggling under the burden of too many responsibilities and a life he’d never wanted.
He carried her to the large leather club chair, wincing slightly as he settled her on his lap. When she wriggled a bit to get comfortable on his hard thighs, it drew a slow hiss from between his lips. Although she feared she’d hurt him, his expression suggested the opposite. His gaze was heavy-lidded and sensual as one hand cradled the back of her neck and the other settled comfortably under her breasts.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Are we staying here? I’m sure Lord Stanley and his friends are long gone by now.”
“Don’t remind me of that loutish crew. No, we’re staying here because it’s private and no one will interrupt us.”
She slid her arms around his neck. “That’s all right, I suppose.” She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to lose her virginity sitting up in a chair, but no doubt Jack knew what he was about.
He gave her a sardonic look as he went to work unlacing the crisscrossed ribbons on the front of her bodice. “I’m hardly going to despoil you in a grimy hackney on the way back to Upper Wimpole Street. I cannot imagine a more unromantic setting.”
She crinkled her nose. “And you’re much too big for me to sneak you up to my bedroom, although we could give it a try.”
He pulled the ribbons free and her bodice sagged open, exposing her stays and shift. “The only thing less romantic than making love in a hackney would be doing it with Sir Dominic and Lady Hunter just down the hall.”
“Yes, I imagine that would be rather off-putting.”
Not to mention exceedingly risky. If anyone got wind of what happened tonight, Jack would be compelled to offer for her hand in marriage. Lia had no intention of ever putting him in that untenable situation. Tonight was a moment out of time, a magical interlude in which they could pretend to meet on equal footing, with no obligations weighing them down and no families to disapprove.
She had to blink back tears, knowing it would likely only be this once. But at least, this first time, it would be him, the man she loved. That was a memory and a blessing she would cherish forever.
“Granny was right,” she whispered.
He glanced up, his busy fingers resting on her stays. “Sorry, what?”
She gave him a smile. “Nothing. Carry on, Lord Lendale, and do let me know if there’s anything I can do to assist.”
His laugh was husky and so delicious it made her want to squirm.
