He had thought the words had remained inside his head, but apparently, he had spoken aloud.
“Everything about you is altogether wrong for me,” he continued, his hands coming to her elbows so gently he wasn’t even sure she noticed. He traced the lines of her face with his eyes — the delicate nose, defined cheekbones, plump bottom lip. “When the time comes for me to find a wife, I require a woman who is demure, gentle, agreeable, and, of course, attractive. You are none of those things.”
She brought a hand up, and for a moment he feared she would slap him again, but instead she put it on his chest and began to push away. “You know exactly how to charm a woman,” she said sarcastically, though he could hear the hurt in her tone. “I agree with you on all you say, but that is not exactly something you actually tell a lady, despite how you may feel about her.”
“You are not attractive,” he said, ignoring her and not letting go. “You are enchantingly breathtaking. You are so contrary and yet…”
With that, he crushed his lips onto hers, taking what he had been desiring since he had first kissed her in the Holderness gardens. She was as delicious as he remembered, and he could still taste the cream on her lips from the dessert the family and guests had just shared.
He tugged her against him, felt the lusciousness of her bosom press against his chest, and he groaned into her mouth, which she had already opened to him. The passionate barbs they had hurled at one another became ardor of another sort as they poured everything out into one another. All the anger, the frustration, the longing they could not ignore flowed between them, and his arms wrapped around her in an effort to pull her even closer.
This was a woman. Not those silly, flippant girls who said what he wanted to hear, who fluttered their fans in the air ever so prettily. No, Lady Phoebe Winters was none of those things, nor was she the type of woman he should seriously consider as a wife. But none of those other women who fit the list of attributes of a future marchioness called to him like Phoebe. His body was betraying him, he told himself. That was all. But as her arms snaked around his neck and her fiery passion overwhelmed him, he had to admit to himself that it was not just his body. It was his soul.
They were in the middle of his study, and he slowly began to move her backward toward the settee across from the chairs. It wasn’t exactly built for comfort — and not at all for romantic trysts — but it would do. For what, however, he had no idea.
He laid her down upon it, and she grasped the lapels of his jacket as she tugged him toward her. Her hands became lost as they roved over him, and as she dissembled his no longer immaculate cravat. His hand, which until now had simply been framing her head, dug into those silky tresses that so called to him. Her hair was fine, yet there were masses of it, now trailing over her shoulders, her collarbones, and the bosom that was straining at the lace of her bodice.
It was only fair that he free it.
He loosened her gown down her shoulder, one of her breasts falling out of the satin material and into his hand. This was better than he could have ever imagined. He brushed his thumb over her nipple and she arched up into him, her breath coming in short pants now in his ear as he kissed his way down her neck, over her delicate, soft skin, searching for her other breast, which he now released from its confines. As his mouth came over it, she moaned deeply in his ear.
When he heard her murmur, “Lord Berkley,” he shook his head.
He came up for a moment to whisper, “Jeffrey.”
She repeated his name, and when he heard it slide from her lips, a sense of satisfaction overcame him. He reached down a hand between them, hunting for the hem of her skirts, but he stilled when a knock came at the door.
“My lord?” came the muffled voice of his butler.
“One moment!” he called out, willing his voice to steady as he jumped off Lady Phoebe and began to straighten his clothing.
“Your mother is asking of your whereabouts, my lord,” Harper continued through the door. “The party is in the first drawing room when you are available to rejoin them.”
“Thank you, Harper,” he said. “I am seeing to some urgent business, but I will return shortly.”
“Very well, my lord,” Harper replied, and Jeffrey sighed when he heard his footsteps retreating down the corridor.
He wiped his brow on his sleeve, as he turned back to Lady Phoebe.
“Phoebe, I—”
He cut off short as he found that in the few moments his attention had wavered, she had replaced her bodice in its proper position and was now re-arranging that beautiful hair as best she could, angrily sticking pins back in to secure it.
“Lady Phoebe,” he said cautiously, clearing his throat. “My apologies if I became … caught up in the moment.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she retorted, standing, though she certainly seemed perturbed. “I was as ‘caught up in the moment,’ as you say, as you were.”
“Very well,” he said, finding his cravat on the floor, and he clumsily attempted to arrange it in its proper place. She was much more adept at dressing herself than he, who had become far too reliant on his valet. But he couldn’t exactly call the man to his study to re-dress him after this.
“Here,” she said, rolling her eyes at his clumsy attempts. “Allow me.”
She swiftly pleated the cravat, folding down the creases as expertly as his own valet. He looked at her, astonished.
“How did you know to do that?”
“My father often became caught up in his hobbies and neglected his personal care,” she explained. “My mother and I became accustomed to ensuring he was respectable enough for polite company, as it were.”
She turned away from him, running her hands over her dress once more to ensure all was proper. When she spun back around, he had to say she had recovered remarkably well, though nothing could hide her plump, thoroughly kissed lips, nor the pink stain that covered her cheeks. Apparently the unflappable Lady Phoebe could be flustered, after all.
“Well,” she asked, “shall we go?”
He simply nodded and escorted her out the door. She had better not think they were finished here. Far from it.