He followed and knocked on the ceiling. The carriage rolled into motion as he joined her on the cushioned bench. The seat was cramped and his thigh brushed hers. A wave of arousal made her head swim.
She waited for him to seize her.
He didn’t move.
Eventually she slid back her hood and turned to him. He studied her with an unreadable expression. It wasn’t his usual lazy sensuality or even the rapacious light she’d seen in the summerhouse.
For a long, breathless moment, they stared at each other. As if they sized up an enemy.
She didn’t consciously move and she didn’t notice him shift. Suddenly they clung to each other and his mouth crashed down on hers with a passion so powerful, it rattled the doors of heaven.
Chapter Eighteen
Rain beat down, pounding on the roof with a thunder that vied with the thunder in Ranelaw’s heart. The world shrank to the shadowy, lurching carriage and the hunger raging between him and this remarkable woman. Moments flowed into a shimmering continuity. He struggled to linger but it was impossible. Time slipped from his eager hands even as he entered eternity.
Eventually, reluctantly, he raised his head and stared at Antonia. In the dimness, she was flushed and her lips were red and full. Breathless tension twisted between them.
Very slowly she opened her eyes. She looked as dazed as he felt. As if that kiss swept her into a new world.
His breathing ragged, he shoved her cape aside and slipped his hand inside her bodice. She wore something wispy and pale with a blessedly low-cut bodice. Undressing her would be like opening a wonderful present. As his hand curled around her breast, she released a constricted moan.
His thumb flicked her beaded nipple. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted, giving him a glimpse of white teeth and the honeyed darkness within.
“I want you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the vehicle’s creak.
He firmed his hold on her breast and nipped at her lips, teasing her with his tongue. She growled and grabbed his head with an abandon that knocked his hat into the well between the seats. He dived into another devouring kiss, then pressed feverish kisses to her neck.
Clumsily she pushed aside his greatcoat and tugged at his clothes. Pleasure shuddered through him as she stroked his bare back. She must have removed her gloves after entering the carriage. In his urgency, he hadn’t noticed.
Groaning, he grabbed her wandering hand and pressed it to the front of his trousers. As his cock swelled hard and greedy against her palm, she gasped. Closing his eyes, he drowned in hot sensation. Since Surrey, every cell had ached for her. Tonight finally he’d sate that excruciating craving.
“Yes,” he hissed as her fingers curled to caress him.
He hooked one hand under her buttocks, squeezing her through her skirts. It was torture to venture so close to her center, but he recognized the limits of his control. If he touched her sex, he’d take her here, now, in this carriage.
After last time, he’d sworn he wouldn’t fall on her like a starving lion. He’d explore paradise inch by inch, not in one headlong rush. Everything in Surrey had been so mad and passionate, he couldn’t separate details from the explosive whole. Tonight he wanted to store away each shining second.
“Nicholas,” she whispered, trailing her lips down his throat. She stroked his cock, building the pressure. His resolution faded.
“Mmm?”
She kissed along his jaw and up to his ear. Butterfly kisses. He’d insist she kissed him properly, if the phantom touch of her mouth wasn’t so incendiary.
“Nicholas, we have to stop.” Her words held a lovely hint of laughter. “The carriage isn’t moving.”
“I’m in no fit state to pay attention to carriages,” he growled, grabbing her by the waist and tipping her against the bench.
She watched him with a sweet confusion that made his blood swirl with desire. “If your coachman opens the door, he’ll blush.”
“He knows better than to open the door.” Ranelaw nuzzled her throat. She was delectable, rich and female, with that fresh scent he’d never identified. Except as essence of Antonia. “What’s that perfume you’re wearing?”
“I like it when you do that.” She arched like a cat seeking a petting. He had a sudden vivid memory of the dragon chaperone. Who knew this wealth of sensuality lay concealed under that starchy exterior?
“Perfume?”
“I’m not wearing perfume.” She insinuated her hands under his shirt once more and ran them up and down his back.
“Don’t be absurd. You always wear it.”