A Gentleman Never Tells(61)
“I do believe you are right. Kissing is much better than reading poetry.”
Lord Brentwood chuckled, and with all thoughts of verse fading from her mind, Gabrielle slipped her arms inside his coat and around his waist. His body was warm and inviting. She drew him closer to her. There was something decidedly rebellious and thrilling about being in his arms and kissing him in the bright light of sunshine, and suddenly she was aware of nothing but the ecstasy she felt in his arms.
His hand found the ribbon under her chin and he untied it. He gently pulled the bonnet off and set it aside. She felt his fingers at her throat as he pulled on the bow of her short velvet cape and let it fall away from her shoulders. With ease, he unfastened her velvet pelisse and opened it, exposing her scooped-neck carriage dress. His lips left hers and kissed their way down the column of her throat to the part of her chest that was exposed by the neckline of her dress. The touch of his warm lips on her cool skin excited her.
He rested his open palm on her breast over her heart, and she wondered if he could feel the constant pounding that sounded like a loud drum in her ears. She knew what she was allowing him to do was beyond the pale, but she had discarded all caution and reasoning the moment his lips met hers. She had no inclination to stop him until, in the distance, she heard the sound of carriage wheels.
Startled, she tried to pull out of his arms.
“Wait,” he whispered.
Without letting go of her, Lord Brentwood leaned forward and carefully peeked around the trunk of the tree directly in front of them.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he whispered, brushing aside her concern and scooting even closer to her. “The carriage is far away and not coming in this direction. I can see around the tree and I will keep watch. I will not let anyone catch me kissing you.”
When he looked down at her, she touched the side of his mouth again and said, “Didn’t it hurt to kiss me so passionately?”
He smiled and outlined her lips with the tip of his finger. “It didn’t hurt at all.” He placed his lips on hers again and whispered against them, “Your mouth is so soft, sweet, and gentle, it could never hurt me to kiss you.”
Her mouth opened and met his once more. She didn’t know why, but she felt an inexplicable feeling of urgency. His kisses bruised over hers hungrily, and she matched his furor. His arms wrapped tightly around her back, crushing her to him. Her tongue filled his mouth, and it pleased her when she heard him swallow soft gasps of pleasure.
His hand skimmed over her breasts, causing her breathing to be erratic. There were the sounds of men talking in the distance, and Gabrielle stiffened in his arms once again. Lord Brentwood looked up and leaned forward.
He gazed down at her and, with the pad of his finger, drew a line from her lips down to the hollow of her throat, and let his finger rest there. “We are safe here, Gabrie.”
She took in a deep, relaxing breath and settled more comfortably against his legs. She smiled her pleasure at being so close to him and so free to be able to enjoy all the wonderful sensations he created inside her with just a touch and a kiss.
“That’s the second time you’ve called me Gabrie.”
He nodded as his hands moved over her breasts, up to her face, where his fingers drew circles and patterns around her lips, on her cheeks, down her neck, and over to her earlobe, where he softly caressed it. She could hardly concentrate on what she wanted to say for the wonder of all she was feeling.
“My family nickname is Gabby,” she finally got out.
His eyes and forehead formed into a frown as his fingers trickled down to her chest and rested on her breast again. “And I think it’s fine for them to call you Gabby, but I like Gabrie, and that is what I will start calling you.”
“It would be forward of you to do that in front of anyone, my lord.”
“Indeed, but I think I like being forward. I want you to call me Brent. I don’t want to hear you say ‘my lord’ to me anymore.”
“That’s extremely improper, and I know my father wouldn’t approve of that, and certainly not of the kisses and intimate caresses we are sharing now.”
He smiled and bent his head toward hers. “No, he wouldn’t approve, but right now I don’t want you proper. I don’t care about what the duke thinks. I am Brent, you are Gabrie, and we are going to kiss. Understand?”
No matter how delicious his kisses were making her feel, she had the presence of mind to know that enjoying his embrace was not part of her plan to convince him she would not be an acceptable wife for him. She had to do something to break the spell of desire he’d cast over her.