Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 2 - Elizabeth Rolls - Страница 45

‘I do agree.’

‘And Stephen Bond?’

‘Stephen is a nice man, but I do not love him. In fact, I had a letter telling him so to post, but was distracted when Riley abducted me.’ Emily gave him an adoring smile. ‘I love you, Mark … so very much, and would be greatly honoured to be your wife.’ She paused, raised a hand to tenderly cup his angular chin. ‘I love you so much more than ever I loved Nicholas …’

‘Prove it,’ Mark demanded, his voice gruff with need.

Emily immediately complied. She went on tiptoe to press her soft warm lips against his. But he wanted more wooing than a coy salute. Gamely she teased him with little nipping kisses until, satisfied, he allowed her tongue to slip into his mouth to tangle with his.

With a guttural sound rasping in his throat, Mark lifted her up so their faces were level and he could fully enjoy her sweet seduction. From instinct, her legs immediately separated, wound about his thighs to clasp him possessively to her. Mark forgot about flirtatious games; he wanted her … His mouth stroked back and forth on soft, willing lips, plundered with savage sensuality until the kiss was so deep their faces were still.

Easily carrying his sensual prize, he strode swiftly to the nearest wall.

With blue watered silk at her back and Mark’s hard powerful body keeping her effortlessly in place, Emily loosened her cloak. With her face still upturned to his and her mouth greedily taking the onslaught of his lips, she felt for her buttons. Unsteady fingers slowly loosened her bodice by touch alone. Mark raised his head, his eyes glowing with desire as he watched her small moving fingers. Deliberately Emily opened her chemise until the sides flapped away from her alabaster skin like small lapels. With her feverish gaze still meshed with his, she pulled down the soft cotton until it framed and supported her naked breasts, raising them close to his mouth.

Mark’s eyes swooped to adore the lush, milky flesh offered up to him. His mouth slowly descended to take her invitingly slack lips in a slow, rewarding kiss that made her squirm delightedly.

Emily arched her back, rotated her hips faster against the rigid heat at his pelvis, wordlessly begging for him to soothe the aching need building within her feminine core.

With his body supporting hers, he used both hands to take his gift. Long, avaricious fingers began to reverentially stroke, pamper, shape the quivering flesh he was preparing to feast on. First one, then the other, blood-red nub thickened, stiffened beneath his skilful tongue as it leisurely trailed torment. When her aching flesh was almost unbearably hot and swollen Emily fought to contain the sob of pleasure tightening her throat. In delirium her head was thrown back, twisted from side to side in wordless denial, but the groan burst from her.

Mark covered her panting mouth with his to stop the feral sound from increasing in volume.

‘Hush …’ he whispered against her bruised lips, his tone throaty and amused. ‘That was loud enough to bring old Cedric running, and he’s deaf as a post.’

Emily tensed, then, in chagrin, her eyes screwed tight shut. The haze of sensuality drugging her was ebbing away and fiery embarrassment taking its place. She was a guest in an aristocrat’s mansion, yet was acting like a dockside harlot. With a subdued shriek of shame she struggled to find her feet and her dignity. She pushed at Mark’s shoulders, wriggled this way and that to try to make him set her down.

Emily’s writhing now drew a guttural noise from Mark. Her attempt to recover her modesty was having the reverse effect to the one intended. His arms tightened about her, subduing her protests whilst his mouth relentlessly pursued hers.

‘Oh … let me go, Mark,’ Emily pleaded in anguish as his lips cornered hers. ‘Do you suppose they heard? What must your brother think of me? Do you think they understood what we … that is … do you think they know what we’re doing?’ She turned to him, grasped his lean, angular jaw, then rushed her soft palms up and down on abrasive skin to hurry his reassurance.

Mark tore his eyes from the delectable sight of her nude bosom heaving just inches from his hungry mouth.

‘What do you think of me?’ Emily wailed softly. His desire had harshly tautened his features and she craved some tender affection from him. Did Mark think she had just proved herself a hussy rather than a fitting wife?

He looked deep into her stormy eyes; touched his lips to hers in a lightly teasing kiss. ‘I’ll show you what I think of you.’ But instead of a renewed seduction, he gently lowered her to the ground. His hands drew together her chemise, her gaping bodice, and painstakingly refastened them. He then slipped a hand to his pocket and withdrew a jeweller’s box. Carefully he prised open the lid and turned towards her his gift. A huge rose-cut diamond caught candle flame and sparked fire. ‘I brought this with me this morning. I didn’t have a chance to give it to you.’

Emily’s sharply indrawn breath caught in her throat. For a moment she was so mesmerised by the magnificent betrothal ring that she forgot to be concerned about his expertise in deftly fastening a lady’s undergarments.

Whilst Emily gazed upon her beautiful gift, Mark gazed upon his. Her dress was crumpled, her blonde locks were tousled and her mouth was beestung from their loving. Humbly he gave thanks for his good fortune that this woman was his.

‘It’s wonderful,’ Emily at last managed to gasp.

‘I wasn’t sure whether you would prefer a different stone. I wasn’t sure what Devlin got you.’

Emily looked into his eyes. ‘A sapphire, and I gave it back without regret,’ she said huskily. ‘This is the most splendid gem I have ever seen.’ She gazed up into his eyes. ‘You’ll never get it back.’

Mark drew forth the platinum shank from its satin nest and slid it on to her betrothal finger. ‘I’d best marry you then … it cost a small fortune.’ He placed a light reverential kiss on her scarlet lips. ‘If you are still unsure what I think of you, Emily Beaumont, let me tell you in words,’ he said huskily. ‘I love and respect you utterly. I want us to be married by special licence tomorrow.’ He smiled ruefully, ‘And I would have told you that even had I not yet sampled what sweet advantages are to be had from taking a wanton bride …’