Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,46

her ear, heard her whimpers of ecstasy within every bone and nerve in his body.

The urge to press into her heat plunged him into hot unthinking darkness. Only by force of will did he retain the strength to take it slowly, because he had another driving need: to ensure her climax. Anything less would be unacceptable.

He pressed kisses to the swells of her bosom above her gown, licking at the valley between them.

Her hips undulated against his shaft, sending blood, hot and thick, coursing through him. He pulled at the ribbon at the top of her bodice, untied the bow and pulled the bodice down, revealing the top of a practical linen shift and her stays. He traced the edge of the shift with a fingertip, dipping beneath the fabric to brush a tightly budded nipple.

She drew in a hiss of breath

‘You like that?’ he murmured.

She nodded, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as if she found it too hard to speak.

‘You will like it better, if we remove your gown.’

A look of doubt crossed her face.

He wanted to curse. Had the curate-husband never pleasured her naked? No wonder she seemed almost innocent in her responses. The man had probably never bothered to do more than bring himself release without seeing to hers. Well, she wouldn’t be the only widow he’d introduced to sensual delight.

‘I promise you will be more than satisfied,’ he whispered wickedly in her ear. She shivered.

He smiled.

Rosa had learned some things about the physical relations between a man and a woman since becoming Lady Keswick’s companion. The married ladies in the company had been forthright in their discussions of bedsport among themselves. And in their acknowledgement of enjoyment.

If the thrills invading every part of her body were part of the experience, then she now knew whereof they spoke. Garth’s kisses on her lips were wonderful, but now as he kissed the rise of her breast with his hot mouth, the heat in her blood and the pulses of sweet longing inside her resulted in the most delicious sensations deep inside her body.

She could hardly think while her body felt as if it was on fire. A fire only he could quench.

It wasn’t wrong, this delight of the flesh. Her parents had clearly enjoyed their physical intimacy from the way they’d touched when thinking they were unobserved, and they had always shared a bed. But they’d been married.

They’d loved each other.

Not that love was a necessary component to passion. A married woman was entitled to take her pleasure where she willed as long as she was discreet, according to the women visiting Lady Keswick. Indeed, it seemed almost a point of pride with them.

A single woman would be ruined by such behaviour. Shunned.

Her heart gave a little squeeze for what would never be. Marriage. Family. Love. But very few people found love. Perhaps her sisters wouldn’t reject her when they learned she had done this for their sake, to give them the chance of love, or at least a chance for a happy marriage.

He raised his head from tormenting her breast to look into her face. She keenly felt the loss of his mouth on her sensitised flesh.

He smoothed the hair back from her temples. ‘Are you all right?’

Had he somehow sensed her roiling thoughts? Her inner fears?

He had a beautiful face. Sinister, yes. Even his smile was dark and dangerous, and the angles of his face were so hard they might have been cut with a blade. And yet he could be gentle, too, and fun. She smiled at him. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Only fine?’ he growled, the smile on the lips belying the roughness in his voice. ‘Then I am not at my best tonight.’

A chuckle rose in her throat; daring took hold of her tongue. ‘Then you must try harder.’

His shoulders shook a little, and then he laughed deep in his chest. The rumble set up a pleasant vibration along her skin. ‘Then we must be rid of this gown, my dear sweet Rose.’

Oh, how neatly he turned things to his advantage. A charming rogue. A practised seducer. A rake.

Which was all to her advantage, for no honourable man would let her use her body to buy her way out of her misfortune. Not if he knew her true identity.

Don’t think of that now. The truth would not help her. She must manage with what she had.

She reached up and ran her hands across the breadth of his shoulders, smoothed the gilded flesh of arms sculpted