The Unlikely Lady (Playful Brides #3)(56)

When she finally pushed open the door to the upstairs drawing room, she breathed a sigh of relief. Garrett was waiting for her on the settee in the middle of the room. He faced the portrait they’d pretended to look at the other night. A brace of candles on the mantelpiece illuminated one side of his handsome face. Jane was suddenly shy to be back here, remembering what they’d done on that settee.

Be bold. Wasn’t that Lucy’s favorite saying? Jane had become quite bold indeed. And she was about to become even bolder.

She opened her reticule, pulled out a key, and locked the door.

“What do you have there?” Garrett called, his voice warm.

“The key.” She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a positively flirtatious look—one she was not certain she’d heretofore had in her.

He whistled, his eyebrows lifted. “The key?”

“Yes. I came prepared this time. We don’t want anyone walking in on us, do we? I asked a footman for it earlier. I gave him a guinea for his trouble.”

“Not Mrs. Langford’s footman, I hope.”

“Certainly not.”

She sauntered over to Garrett—as well as one could saunter when one’s ankle was doing poorly. She felt more feminine than she ever had in her life. Feminine and romantic. The gown was lovely, the room was cast in shadows, the man was handsome and dashing and … she wanted to kiss him. The thought made her shiver.

“How did you get away from your mother?” He took her hand and helped her to sit next to him.

“I told her my ankle was hurting and I needed to prop it upon pillows. Mama said she’d send a servant to check on me, but Lucy volunteered.”

“What about Mrs. Bunbury?” he asked, his mouth quirking into a sensual grin.

Jane laughed. “Don’t worry. My chaperone is rubbish. Believe me, we’ll be completely safe from her.”

Garrett’s lips twisted into a beautiful smile. “I suppose we cannot expect too much out of her in that she doesn’t exist.”

He slid across the velvet seat until his thigh touched Jane’s. “You look absolutely stunning in that gown,” he breathed. His warm breath caressed her neck. She shuddered.

“Thank you.”

“I may like it better than the blue one and I hardly thought that possible.”

“Thank you.” Her good leg shook furiously beneath the silvery folds, but she refused to pluck. Be bold. Be brave.

She took a shaky breath. “What should we talk about? Portraits?”

His hand moved to her shoulder. He lightly stroked the column of her neck with one finger. Jane closed her eyes. She couldn’t think. His touch did funny things to her insides.

“Seeing as how you’ve locked the door,” he whispered. “I was thinking of something else.”

“Something … el—else?”

“A lesson.”

A shiver chased its way down her spine. She opened her eyes again and focused them on him. “A lesson?”

“Yes.” His lips hovered near her ear. “You like to learn new things, do you not?”

She turned her head. Their mouths were only inches apart. She watched his lips. “I do. But what can you teach me?”

His other hand came up to rub her opposite shoulder. “Ah, you may think you know everything, but believe me when I tell you there is a thing or two that a supposed rake could show you.”

Her breath came in short pants. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

Her head tipped back. “By all means, then, show me.”

He carefully reached behind her ear and unhooked the wire bar of her spectacles. Facing her, he put his other hand behind her opposite ear and pushed that one up too. He carefully pulled the spectacles away from her face. For a moment, Jane felt naked, vulnerable.

He set the spectacles on the table in front of the settee and turned back to face her. His thumb rubbed across the underside of her eye.

“I like your freckles,” he said.

Her throat went dry. “Oh, they’re just—”

“Charming,” he finished.

“I thought you said something about teaching me a lesson?”

“So I did.” He pulled her to him, his mouth capturing hers. His lips slanted over hers, and his tongue plunged inside. Jane fiercely wrapped her arms around his neck. He quickly maneuvered them so she lay on the settee and he was on top of her, kissing her, pressing his hardness against her softness.

He braced himself on one elbow and, using one hand, untied his cravat, uncoiled it quickly, and ripped it from around his neck.

“What are you going to do with that?” she whispered against his rough cheek.

“Tie you to the settee.”

Jane’s eyes flared. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She’d never heard of anything like that, but she was intrigued. More than intrigued. Ooh, perhaps a rake did have a few lessons to share after all. She met his eyes in a challenge. They’d turned a dark, mossy green. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He’d arched a brow. “Wouldn’t I? Try me.” Clutching the rumpled cravat in his fist, he stared her in the eye. “Say the word.”

“What word?” Her breath was a heavy pant against his firm chin. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her excitement.