off if she refused to elope? Could she talk sense into him and make him see reason?
"I am quite serious Miss Chambers. If you love me you will go with me tonight. I will wait in the church graveyard for you at midnight." Something about meeting in a graveyard to embark on their lifelong journey together sent waves of foreboding through her.
"And if I do not?" She had to ask even though she knew the answer already.
"Then I will assume you wish to cry off. My heart will break, but it will mend." He looked away, catching a small tear with his hand. Her heart swelled. How could she resist him? Even in his yellow canary jacket and navy pants, ornamented with flashy diamond buttons and gold embroidery, and topped off with a snow white shirt and perfectly starched cravat, Mr. Parker was everything she dreamed about in a husband. Witty and charming and handsome, he made her feel special and important.
"What about my family? Running off and depriving them of our special day will break their hearts. How could we do that to them?"
"I realize they will not be happy, but they do love you, and they will forgive you. They may not forgive me, but they will forgive you. They will understand when they realize we had no choice."
"How can you be so sure?" Her sins of late were mounting up and choking her. How would running off to Gretna Green with her betrothed, a man approved of by her family, compare to entangling herself in a compromising position with Lord William. She shuddered to think of the repercussions if someone had found them embracing, kissing, touching. Shame crept up her neck and burned her cheeks like the hell fires of eternity.
"I can only be sure of our love. Pack a bag and meet me tonight. I will wait for you by the Prescott family crypt." He rose, took her chin in his hand, kissed her briefly, then he turned and left.
What was she going to do?
***
Lord William did not know whether he should turn her out or lift her over his shoulder and carry her to his bed. He needed relief in such a way that his bed tempted him. Maybe he should lock the door to the drawing room and take her here. For her audacity to show herself at his home, he should lift her skirts, bend her over, and pump into her until she screamed. Except her bottom is not the one he wanted to see and touch. No, another bottom came to mind. Bloody hell!
He pasted a smile on his face. "Lady Quartermane, what do I own the honor of this visit to my home?"
She stood and breezed over to him, placed her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly. Her lips were soft, but they did not taste like raspberries and cream. He thought of mint tea. He sniffed. She smelled and tasted like mint. It reminded him of the sprigs he chewed on each morning to freshen his breath. He broke the kiss and reached up to remove her hands from his person. He lifted a brow in question and waited.
"William, darling, I missed you since our time in London. I was passing by on the way to a house party and thought to stop in and visit with you."
Her creamy breasts spilled over her burgundy gown. A long curl of dark black hair fell from her coiffure to the tempting center of her décolletage. Her lips were painted red and a touch of rouge heightened her cheekbones. Large black eyes and long dark eyelashes batted at him, offering herself up for his pleasure.
He should consider her a godsend, a wicked little nymph to please him and relieve him, to take his mind off his true and most sinful desires. He knew she could not cure him of this affliction, but perhaps, she could make him forget for just a little while. He needed to forget a certain pair of bright green eyes. This is the reason he cut his visit short and returned home. Lady Quartermane offered him the perfect opportunity.
He turned and locked the door. She purred like a kitten who just polished off a bowl of cream. She started to come for him, but he took her and
"I am quite serious Miss Chambers. If you love me you will go with me tonight. I will wait in the church graveyard for you at midnight." Something about meeting in a graveyard to embark on their lifelong journey together sent waves of foreboding through her.
"And if I do not?" She had to ask even though she knew the answer already.
"Then I will assume you wish to cry off. My heart will break, but it will mend." He looked away, catching a small tear with his hand. Her heart swelled. How could she resist him? Even in his yellow canary jacket and navy pants, ornamented with flashy diamond buttons and gold embroidery, and topped off with a snow white shirt and perfectly starched cravat, Mr. Parker was everything she dreamed about in a husband. Witty and charming and handsome, he made her feel special and important.
"What about my family? Running off and depriving them of our special day will break their hearts. How could we do that to them?"
"I realize they will not be happy, but they do love you, and they will forgive you. They may not forgive me, but they will forgive you. They will understand when they realize we had no choice."
"How can you be so sure?" Her sins of late were mounting up and choking her. How would running off to Gretna Green with her betrothed, a man approved of by her family, compare to entangling herself in a compromising position with Lord William. She shuddered to think of the repercussions if someone had found them embracing, kissing, touching. Shame crept up her neck and burned her cheeks like the hell fires of eternity.
"I can only be sure of our love. Pack a bag and meet me tonight. I will wait for you by the Prescott family crypt." He rose, took her chin in his hand, kissed her briefly, then he turned and left.
What was she going to do?
***
Lord William did not know whether he should turn her out or lift her over his shoulder and carry her to his bed. He needed relief in such a way that his bed tempted him. Maybe he should lock the door to the drawing room and take her here. For her audacity to show herself at his home, he should lift her skirts, bend her over, and pump into her until she screamed. Except her bottom is not the one he wanted to see and touch. No, another bottom came to mind. Bloody hell!
He pasted a smile on his face. "Lady Quartermane, what do I own the honor of this visit to my home?"
She stood and breezed over to him, placed her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly. Her lips were soft, but they did not taste like raspberries and cream. He thought of mint tea. He sniffed. She smelled and tasted like mint. It reminded him of the sprigs he chewed on each morning to freshen his breath. He broke the kiss and reached up to remove her hands from his person. He lifted a brow in question and waited.
"William, darling, I missed you since our time in London. I was passing by on the way to a house party and thought to stop in and visit with you."
Her creamy breasts spilled over her burgundy gown. A long curl of dark black hair fell from her coiffure to the tempting center of her décolletage. Her lips were painted red and a touch of rouge heightened her cheekbones. Large black eyes and long dark eyelashes batted at him, offering herself up for his pleasure.
He should consider her a godsend, a wicked little nymph to please him and relieve him, to take his mind off his true and most sinful desires. He knew she could not cure him of this affliction, but perhaps, she could make him forget for just a little while. He needed to forget a certain pair of bright green eyes. This is the reason he cut his visit short and returned home. Lady Quartermane offered him the perfect opportunity.
He turned and locked the door. She purred like a kitten who just polished off a bowl of cream. She started to come for him, but he took her and
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