Regency Society. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘I am afraid I must. Should I give you any clue to my identity, you would know me immediately. And this evening will end quite differently than I wish it to.’
‘And how do you wish it to end?’ he coaxed.
‘In my bed.’
‘Really?’ He had not expected her to be so very blunt about a thing that they both knew to be true. ‘And if you were to tell me your name?’
‘Then it would be a significant stumbling block to that. It might give you reason to be angry with me, or to discover a distaste or a hesitance that you do not have now. It would change everything.’
So she was likely the wife of some friend of his. And she thought him honourable enough not to cuckold a chum. ‘Perhaps that is true.’ Or perhaps it wasn’t. His character did not bear close scrutiny at this time.
She sighed. ‘I would much prefer to have you think me a stranger, and to kiss me as you did last night, as though you had no thought for anything but the moment, and for me. As though you enjoyed it.’
‘I did enjoy it,’ he said. ‘And apparently so did you if you are willing to go to such great lengths to do it again.’
‘It was very nice,’ she said politely. ‘And unlike anything I have previously experienced.’
Should he discover that she was the wife of an old friend, he might be unwilling to continue. But he would have to hunt the man down and give him a lecture on the care and tending of his lady. Considering the state of his own marriage, the idea that he would give advice to anyone was laughable.
‘It pains me to hear you say such. There was nothing so unusual in the way I kissed you. You have been sorely neglected. And I would be honoured to rectify such a grievous error, if you will allow me to. Lips as sweet as yours are made to be kissed hard and often.’
She gave a loud sigh that ended in a little squeak of annoyance, as though she had thought herself too sensible to be swayed by his words. ‘Not quite yet, I think. We should eat. Dinner has been laid for us in the next room and I would not wish it to get cold.’
‘Allow me.’ He took her hand in the crook of his arm, wondering what he was meant to do next. Pride was all well and good, but what did it save him, if he did not know where to lead her?
She sensed his dilemma. ‘The door is in front of you. And a little to the right.’
‘Thank you.’ He walked forwards, and she let him guide her. He half wished that they’d cross the threshold and find themselves in a bedroom. Then he could rid himself of the tension that was building in him. But, no. He could smell a meal somewhere nearby. She showed no hesitation, so he walked forwards into the blur in front of him, putting his hand out nonchalantly to feel for the table that he was sure must lay before them.
There it was. His fingers touched the corner and a linen cloth. He led her to what he hoped was an acceptable chair and worked his way to the other side, finding his seat and taking it and running his hand over the plate in front of him to familiarise himself with the setting.
Now the tension in him was of an entirely different sort. Suppose he spilled his wine, or dropped the meat into his lap without noticing? Suppose, dear God, she served him soup? If he made a fool of himself, he might never have the chance to know her better.
Adrian listened for the approach of the servant, and sniffed the food he was served. Was it fish? Or perhaps lamb. There was rosemary there, he was sure. And fresh peas, for there was the smell of mint. Problematic, for they would roll across the plate, if he was not careful. Better to flatten them with the fork than to chase them about the plate.
There was a faint laugh from the other side of the table, and his head snapped up. ‘What is it?’
‘You are glaring at your plate as though it is an enemy. And you seem to have forgotten me entirely. I am trying to decide whether to be amused or insulted by it.’
‘I apologise. It is just that, meals can be a difficult time for me.’
‘Do you require assistance?’
‘That will not be necessary.’ It humiliated him to display his weakness so clearly, and he longed to end the game they were playing and lie with her. Once their bodies touched, she could see how little this mattered.
But she had ignored him, for he could hear her drawing her chair closer to his. ‘I said I did not need your help.’ His tone was sharper than he had intended.
But it did not seem to bother her, for her response was placid enough. ‘That is a pity. For it might be quite pleasant for both of us.’
He started as she touched his mouth with her finger, resting the tip on the centre of his lower lip, almost as though it were a kiss.
He touched his tongue to it and tasted wine. She had dipped her finger into the glass.
He reached out, very carefully, to his own glass, dipping a finger in the contents, and then following the sound of her voice to try to touch her lip.
She laughed again, catching his hand and bringing it the last few inches to her mouth to kiss it clean. At the touch of her tongue, his own mouth went so dry he could hardly speak.
‘You see?’ she whispered. ‘It might not be so bad to accept my help.’
‘But I would not want to grow used to being hand fed, no matter how attractive the hands might be.’
She laughed. ‘My hands might be ugly for all you know. And my face as well.’
He pulled his hand away from her lips, clasping her fingers in his. Then he turned it over, stroking the fingers, rubbing his thumb along the palm, over the back, circling the wrist. The fingers were long, the nails short, the skin soft. He held it to his cheek. ‘The hand is lovely, as is the woman. You will never convince me otherwise.’
She sighed in response and he could feel her lean towards him as the pressure of her hand increased. ‘You flatter, sir. But you do it well.’
‘And you tempt. I am utterly captivated.’ Which was not so much flattery as truth. He was hard for her, and they had not even begun to eat. But while he could not change his body’s reaction, control of the evening was returning to him, and with it, he relaxed and focused on his ultimate goal. ‘Before we go further, am I to be your only company tonight?’
‘Of course.’ She seemed surprised that he would ask. Surely that was a good sign.
‘Then I take it that you still have not found your husband? Or have you found him, and are punishing him for leading you into last night’s danger?’
She gave a little hiss of surprise and snatched her hand away. ‘I did not betray my husband. It was he who left me. I have not seen him in some time. And I suspect he would make sport of my search for him, just as you do.’
‘I am sorry. I did not mean to remind you of unhappiness. I only wished to ascertain that we would be alone for the whole evening.’ To cover the awkward moment, he went back to his meal. As unobtrusively as possible, he touched the food on his plate to learn its location, then wiped his fingers on the napkin and reached for a knife to cut the chop he had found. He could hear the scrape of her cutlery as she began to eat as well.
Then she spoke. ‘We need have no fear of interruption. This is not actually my home. It was let so that I might entertain in private. And tonight I am expecting no one else.’
So she had ample funds, and took scrupulous care of her reputation. He could not help trying to guess her identity from the clues she was giving him. ‘Have you brought many admirers here?’
‘There have been no others. Only you.’
His pulse quickened.
‘Do not think that I have not had offers,’ she added, as though she did not wish him to think her unworthy of masculine attention. ‘But they know that I am married. And that I will not