His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen #4)(18)
He stroked his fingers over her nape, and some of her desperation eased. Her first forays into a deeper kiss were tentative, and in his response, Hessian assured her that she could take her time and linger over her discoveries.
As he lingered over his.
Lily used no padding, no excesses of corsetry. She might be wearing a double chemise or jumps instead of stays, her shape was so genuinely evident beneath his hands. Her shoulders, back and arms were sturdy, and the thought of her legs wrapped around Hessian’s flanks…
He eased out of the kiss, but not out of the embrace.
“Why did you stop?” Lily’s question was adorably disgruntled.
“I don’t pretend to know much about children, but I have younger siblings. Worth’s greatest talent growing up was coming upon me when I was most in need of solitude. The children would not abandon us here for long, and I was growing…”
He shifted his hips, enough that Lily would feel the results of their intimacies—a rousing salute to pleasures too long ignored.
“You’re…? From kissing me?”
Lily was delighted with herself, and Hessian was delighted with her too. “I hope you are similarly carried away, else I shall have to reconsider my technique.”
She patted his lapel and stepped aside, studying the shelves to the right. According to Hessian’s organizational scheme, she’d become fascinated with etymological treatises.
“I wanted to kiss you,” she said, taking down a slender red volume.
Hess wanted to nuzzle the place where her neck and shoulder joined. She’d smell good there—good there too—like flowers and mischief. He stared hard at the molding, except smirking Cupids were not the stuff of regained self-control.
“I account myself singularly well favored to have been the recipient of your overtures.”
Lily opened the book, which was written in French. “Does that mean you liked kissing me?”
In the garden, somebody shrieked, a happy noise that suggested happy relationships were blossoming all over the property. And yet, Lily’s question had been genuine rather than coy.
“I like you, Lily Ferguson. For a first effort, I liked our kiss. You needn’t fret that I’ll take you to task for a pleasure about which we both grew enthusiastic.”
“This book on insects is easier to translate than your lordly pronouncements. What do you mean for a first effort you liked our kiss?”
In bed, Lily would be fearless. She wouldn’t ask for what she wanted, she’d demand it and give as good as she got.
Hessian risked repositioning a curl that lay against her neck. “I mean, I’m out of practice. I suspect you are too.”
She paced off, book in hand. “I’m not in the habit of accosting men to kiss them, or for any other purpose. Yesterday surprised me.”
He wanted to chase after her, to get his hands on her, touch her hair, her clothes, her bare skin, and put her hands on him. In defense of his ability to hold a conversation, he withdrew to the hearth and propped an elbow on the mantel.
“You aren’t fond of surprises. Neither am I.” And yet, as the sharp edge of desire faded, heat lingered. Hessian was awake in a way he hadn’t been before Lily had kissed him. His senses were keener, his imagination focused on matters other than correspondence, social invitations, and Daisy’s concerns.
“Surprises can be good,” Lily said, running her finger down a page of French. “You took me in your arms yesterday, so Lady Humplewit wouldn’t see me. You smell of goodness. I can’t think when you put your arms around me.”
Hessian could think—of beds, pillows, naked limbs, and pleasure. “Sometimes, to abandon reason for a moment is a relief. I’d forgotten that. You never used to be able to stand even the sight of a bug, and now the subject appears to fascinate you.”
He’d forgotten so much that was good and sweet.
Lily snapped the book closed. Her stillness vibrated with more unpredictable, interesting questions—and with anxiety?
“I wasn’t able to abide the sight of a bug?”
“I was raised with only one sister, but I suspect few girls enjoy insects. I’m glad you kissed me.” Hessian hoped that was what she needed to hear, because it was the truth. “I enjoyed kissing you. I’ve grown duller than I realized, which was dull indeed, and content in my dullness. Lily, I thank you for… for your interest. You needn’t worry that I’ll develop expectations or spread tales. For a moment, a butterfly lit on my windowsill, and she must be allowed to flutter off and be about her business, if that’s what she wishes. A gentleman never presumes on a lady’s favor.”
Good God, he was making a hash out of what was meant to be a compliment.
Lily clutched the book with a curious desperation. “A butterfly, my lord?”
My lord was not good, but if Hessian took her in his arms again, then the sofa before the hearth would become the scene of a debauch. If Lily were to lie back against the pillows, then Hessian could brace himself—
He studied the spiral staircase, but even those curves were fraught. “My point, madam, is that a stolen moment needn’t become the basis for any worries on your part. I’m not Lady Humplewit, to take advantage of another’s trust.”
Lily turned her back to him, which was no damned help at all. Some of her hair was in a soft, twisty bun, and some of it curled over her shoulder, a perfect metaphor for Hessian’s emotional state. He was half pleased and half embarrassed to have taken liberties with a lady’s person.