This time when she looked up into his shadowed face, she realized he was smiling slightly, a piercingly sensual smile that sent a rush of heated awareness through her. She could feel the tension in his leg changing in some indefinable fashion and she found herself running her palm along the inside of his thigh.
He lifted a hand and drew his slightly rough fingertip slowly down the line of her throat to the nape of her neck. Victoria held her breath, sensing he was going to kiss her. She’d learned to recognize that glittering gaze. She’d seen it on the occasions when she’d stood with him in her aunt’s garden after an evening’s escapade. The anticipation alone was enough to set fire to her senses.
“Lucas?”
“Tell me, Vicky, do you like my good-night kisses?”
“I …” The words seemed to get caught in her throat. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“One of the things I like about you, my dear, is that you can be so delightfully honest at the most interesting times.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and then his hand tightened on the back of her head, urging her close. “I wonder if you have any idea of how it affects me.”
She went to him willingly, tumbling across his lap as the coach swayed and jounced. With a soft little sigh of pleasure she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her face for his kiss. There was no doubt about it, she thought, her appetite for this sort of thing had been well and truly whetted by those previous kisses in the garden.
Lucas’s mouth came down on hers, his tongue sliding along the edge of her lower lip, seeking admittance.
Eager now for the heat and excitement she always found in his good-night embraces, Victoria nestled closer. His arms were strong and hard around her, and when his hand moved to the buttons of her waistcoat, she made no move to resist.
All the pent-up excitement of the evening was flowing through her and this was the most thrilling moment of all. Victoria barely felt her cravat being loosened, but when his fingertips glided down her throat, she tightened her arms around his neck.
Lucas laughed softly against her mouth as his fingers went lower to part her waistcoat and shirt. “There is something rather strange about unfastening men’s clothes on you, sweetheart.”
Victoria could not respond because he was suddenly cupping her bare breast in his hand. She gasped instead and went taut. Then, instead of protesting, as she knew she ought, Victoria turned her hot face into his shoulder and clutched him tightly.
“Do you like the feel of my hand on you, Vicky?”
She nodded jerkily. “Yes.” She could feel her nipple tighten under the touch of his thumb.
“So honest. Can you feel what you’re doing to me?”
She could. He was growing hard beneath her buttocks. His thighs parted slightly, making her even more aware of the solid shape of his manhood beneath the tight breeches.
“Lucas, your poor leg.”
“I assure you it is not paining me in the least right now.”
“We must stop.”
“Do you really want me to stop touching you?” Lucas whispered.
“Please don’t ask me such a question.” Breathlessly she dug her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders and strained against his hand. She was growing hotter and she could feel a warm dampness between her legs.
As if he, too, knew about the moist heat between her thighs, Lucas moved his hands down to the fastenings of her breeches. Victoria completely lost her voice just when she knew she should be raising it to its loudest level in a fierce demand for him to halt. Instead she was suddenly fascinated with the masculine scent of his body and the sensual tension in him. Her fingers clenched and unclenched on his shoulders.
“You are damp and ready for me, aren’t you?” Lucas slid his hand inside the open breeches and found her secret warmth. “Your body is already preparing its welcome.”
“Lucas.”
“Do not be embarrassed, my sweet. I am glad to know you want me as much as I want you. When the time comes, we are going to deal very well with each other.”
Dazed, she managed to lift her head long enough to look up at him. “When the time comes?”
“Not tonight. I would much prefer a bed instead of a carriage seat for our first time together. And I want all the time in the world, not the few minutes we have left before we reach your home.”
“Lucas, we must stop. We must.” He had never touched her like this and she did not know how to handle her own emotions. A delicious sense of eagerness was gripping her.
“Are you sure you want to stop, little one? You feel so good, darling.” His mouth was on hers again and then on her throat as his fingers slipped lower, parting soft petals to seek out the tiny bud of desire. “So damned good. And you want me. Say it, Vicky. Give me the words at least.”
Victoria sucked in her breath as the wondrous sensations made her tremble in need. She wanted to tell him again that he must cease touching her so intimately, but she knew she could not. Not yet, at any rate. She wanted more of this exotic feeling and she sensed that only Lucas could provide her with what she desired.
“The words, sweetheart. Is that so much to ask?” His voice was gentle, coaxing, intimate. “All I’m asking is for you to tell me what you are feeling. Does this feel good?”
“Yes, oh, Lucas, yes.” She squeezed her eyes shut so she would not have to meet the gleaming satisfaction she knew she would find in his intent gaze. She twisted helplessly against his probing hand.
“Keep talking to me, sweetheart. Keep telling me how you feel when I touch you like this.” He slid one finger gently into her warmth.
She cried out and muffled the sound against the fabric of his jacket.
“And this …”
She flinched and suddenly she could not get enough of his long, sensitive fingers. She lifted her hips, silently pleading for more but not knowing what it was she sought. “Lucas, do that again. Please touch me again.”
“Like this, my sweet?” His fingers worked magic in the hot, damp area between her legs. “God, you are beautiful, Vicky. You respond to me as though you had been made for me.”
“Please.” She could barely speak as she arched her hips and writhed again beneath his touch. “I don’t know … I can’t … Please.”
“Yes. I know. I will. Just give yourself up to it, darling. Do you want me?” he asked again.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes.” And then she was beyond thought, beyond speech. Something tight and vibrant that lay coiled within her suddenly released itself without warning, reverberating through her body until she was shivering. The small convulsions made her tremble from head to toe, but she was not cold, nor did she know any fear. She had never felt so joyously alive in her life.
And then she collapsed in an exhausted little heap against Lucas’s hard chest.
“So beautiful. Such a sweet, hot passion.” Lucas dropped light, reassuring kisses all over her face and throat as he withdrew his hand from between her thighs and hastily refastened her breeches. “I will go out of my mind waiting for you. But I do not think you will make me wait too long, will you, sweetheart? You would not be so cruel.”
Victoria hesitated until she could breathe normally before lifting her head away from his shoulder. The carriage was already slowing. She looked up at him, still dazed. He was smiling faintly, a warm, knowing expression in his eyes.
“That was …” She licked her lips and tried again. “That was very strange.”
“Think of it as an experiment in natural history.”
“An experiment?” In spite of her odd mood, the laughter welled up inside her, revitalizing her and flushing away some of the sensual lethargy that had held her in thrall. “You are utterly impossible, my lord.”
“Not at all.” His smile was gentle, but there was a disturbing heat in his eyes. “The things I want to do with you are all quite possible. Some may be improbable, but not impossible.”
She was staring wordlessly into his eyes when she suddenly became aware that the carr
iage had stopped. She gave herself a small shake and her fingers flew to her untied cravat. “Good heavens, we’re here. I must get out or the coachman will think we’ve fallen asleep.”
She scrambled about the carriage, collecting her walking stick and coat. As she pushed open the door she realized that Lucas was moving far more cautiously than usual. She frowned at him as she jumped down. “Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Oh, dear, your leg.”
“It is not my leg that is bothering me.” He stepped down beside her and adjusted his coat with great care.
“Then what is it, Lucas?” Victoria prodded.
“Nothing you can do anything about tonight, but rest assured I will look forward to you resolving the problem in the near future.” He rapped on the side of the coachman’s seat with his stick. “Be so good as to wait a few minutes. I shall return shortly.”
The coachman tipped his hat with a bored air and reached for the flask he kept under his box.
“But Lucas, what is it? What is the matter?” Victoria asked again as they hurried around the corner and through an alley to the garden wall.
“Think back on all your studies of natural history, particularly the details of reproduction among the male of the species and I’m sure the answer will come to you.”
“Oh dear.” She swallowed, aware that her face was burning. She was not precisely certain what he meant, but she was at last getting an inkling of the probable source of his discomfort. “Heavens. I had no idea. Are you, uh, very uncomfortable, my lord?”
“Don’t look so contrite,” he said with a quick, fleeting grin. “I am well pleased with the results of the experiment. They were worth any minor discomfort I am now experiencing.” He gave her an assist up the garden wall. “And I did offer myself in the spirit of intellectual inquiry, did I not?”
“I do wish you would stop talking about the whole thing as an experiment.” Victoria dropped down into the fragrant, shadowed garden and stood back as he lowered himself down beside her.
“I think it will be easier for you to think of it that way for a while.” He kissed her nose and stood back. “Good night, Victoria. Sleep well.”
She stood watching for a moment as he vanished back over the wall and then, reluctantly, she turned toward the conservatory door. She abruptly longed for the privacy of her room so that she could think about what was happening between her and Lucas.
The feelings he was arousing in her were startling in their intensity and a little frightening. For a few minutes there in the coach she knew she had surrendered a large measure of her self-control to him. She had put herself literally in his hands and he had shown her the power of her own body.
She frowned in thought as she approached the conservatory door. She must not let matters get out of control. She had to be careful. But Lucas was so different from any other man she had ever met. It was becoming increasingly difficult to think logically about him. More and more she was reacting on the basis of emotion, and that, she knew, was dangerous.
Damn it, she thought resentfully, it simply was not fair that a widow such as Isabel Rycott was free to indulge in a discreet romantic liaison while a dedicated spinster was not granted the same privilege. At least not a spinster who was only twenty-four. Perhaps in another ten years she would be able to behave as she wished, but who wanted to wait ten years to discover the mysteries Lucas was now revealing to her?
And who knew where Lucas would be ten years from now, Victoria thought in sullen disgust. He would undoubtedly be off in the country, attending to his estates, a wife, and several children.
It simply was not fair.
Victoria knew now that if she was ever going to experiment with this particular aspect of natural history, she wanted that experiment to take place with Lucas. Perhaps she should do as he said and regard this entire matter from a scientific point of view.
She was mulling over the pros and cons of that angle when she spotted the white silk neck scarf fluttering from the handle of the conservatory door.
One of the servants must have left it here when he or she went into the garden to collect herbs for supper, she thought. But surely she would have noticed it earlier when she had left the house to meet Lucas.
Curious, she lifted the scarf away from the handle. She felt the monogram beneath her fingers but could not read it in the pale moonlight.
Victoria hurried indoors, paused in the conservatory to listen for any sound, and then decided her aunt had probably not yet returned from the Crandalls’ ball. The Crandalls’ affairs were famous for lasting until dawn.
Victoria went upstairs and into her room and immediately lit a candle. Then she held the end of the scarf near the glow of light and deciphered the monogram. It was in the shape of an elaborately worked “W.”
Victoria’s fingers shook as she carefully folded the scarf. She had seen similar monograms before. They had been embroidered on the handkerchiefs and neckcloths of her dead stepfather, Samuel Whitlock.
The morning light poured through the conservatory Windows, illuminating the spectacular spray of Plumeria rubra that Victoria was endeavoring to capture with her watercolors. She frowned at the emerging flower portrait on her easel, knowing her attention was not completely on her work and wondering if she should simply abandon the project. Normally when she was engaged in her sketching or painting, her concentration was complete.
But this morning her thoughts churned, writhed, and danced with memories of her passion in Lucas’s arms the previous night. She had been unable to get the images out of her head although she had spent several fitful hours trying to calm herself. She knew she would turn herself into a candidate for Bedlam if she did not sort out her confusion and make some decisions.
“There you are, Vicky, dear. I have been looking for you.” Cleo Nettleship rounded the corner of the aisle of plants and headed toward her niece. She was wearing a delightful morning dress of pale coral. “Such a lovely day, is it not? I should have known I’d find you out here.” She paused briefly, her attention caught by a small plant on a tray. “Good heavens, did you notice the new American iris we got from Chester last month? It’s blooming beautifully. How exciting. I must remember to tell Lucas.”
Victoria gave a small start and a drop of pink splashed on the page. “Damn.”
“I beg your pardon, dear?”
“Nothing, Aunt Cleo. I just had a small accident with my paint. Do you think Lucas will be interested in the iris?”
“Certainly. Haven’t you noticed how enamored he has become of horticulture? He is learning everything he can about such matters in preparation for taking over his estates. But he is particularly fascinated with the new species of plants that are arriving in this country from America. I imagine that at the rate he’s going, his gardens at Stonevale will one day be a great attraction,” Cleo said.
Victoria concentrated on putting a faint shadow on the pink blossom. “He does seem to have developed a strong interest in the subject, doesn’t he? Does that strike you as odd, Aunt Cleo? The man has been a soldier most of his adult life,”
“I don’t find it in the least odd. Only think of Plimpton and Burney. Two ex-military men who have settled down on their estates and produced magnificent results both in their gardens and in their crop production. Perhaps there is something in the business of gardening and horticulture that appeals to men who have witnessed a great deal of violence and bloodshed.”
Victoria recalled Lucas’s refusal to discuss the cir-cum-stances surrounding the injury of his leg. “I wonder if you might be right about that, Aunt Cleo.”
“Speaking of Lucas, dear.” Cleo paused again to examine another plant that was putting forth shoots.
Victoria caught the slight change in her aunt’s inflection and braced herself. Cleo rarely lectured, but when she did, Victoria had learned to pay attention. For all her scattered scientific interests and her unending social life, Cleo Nettleship was a wise and intelligent woman.
“What about him, Aunt Cleo?”
“I hesitate to say too much, Vicky, dear. You are, after all, a grown woman and you have always given every indication of knowing precisely what you are about. But I must confess I have never known you to spend quite so much time in the company of any one man. Nor have I heard you mention a particular male acquaintance quite as frequently as you seem to mention Stonevale. And one cannot help but notice lately that he seems to be underfoot a great deal of the time.”
Victoria’s fingers tightened around her brush. “I thought you liked Lucas.”
“I do. Very much. That is not the point, Vicky, and I think you know it.” Her aunt spoke gently as she poked a finger into a bedding tray to check for moisture.
“If Lucas seems to be underfoot much of the time, I expect it is because you are constantly inviting him to attend lectures and demonstrations you think will interest him,” Victoria declared defensively.
“True, I have extended a number of invitations and he has always accepted.” Cleo looked thoughtful. “But it is not just at our natural history and horticulture meetings that he appears, is it? Lately he seems to have put in an appearance at nearly every soirée you have attended.”
Victoria swallowed uneasily. “He is a friend of Lady Atherton’s. She has introduced him into her circle.”
Cleo nodded again. “Very true. And Lady Atherton’s circle of acquaintances does include us, does it not? But all the same, I think perhaps you should consider exactly what it is you wish to have happen next, Vicky.”
Victoria set down her brush and looked at her aunt. “Why don’t you come out and tell me what it is that’s worrying you, Aunt Cleo?”
“I am not worried so much, dear, as concerned that you understand your position vis-à-vis the earl. You have always insisted you do not wish to marry.”
Victoria stiffened. “That has always been true and still is.”
Cleo’s face softened as she regarded her niece’s stubborn expression. “Then, Vicky, you have a certain obligation, one might even say your female honor requires that you do not give false hope to your male acquaintances. Do you comprehend what I am trying to say?”