She startled when he went down on one knee. “Lady Susan Crompton, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
He’d uttered no words of love, but she couldn’t deny her feelings for him. What was the alternative? A life without sparring with Griff Halliwell. The bleak prospect tightened her throat. Perhaps in time… “I accept,” she whispered.
Grinning from ear to ear, he rose from his knees, his lips pursed ready to kiss her. They startled when a light tap at the door heralded Jenkinson’s arrival. The butler’s mouth fell open when he espied the compromising scene, but he recovered quickly. “Would you like tea served, my lady?”
The tongue wagging would soon begin in the servants’ quarters, but Griff came to the rescue. “Please inform the staff that Lady Susan and I are engaged to be married.”
Jenkinson’s wide eyes betrayed his surprise—most of the servants surely never expected their bluestocking mistress to marry—but the butler’s smile was genuine. “May I humbly express my congratulations to you both, my lord.”
“You may,” Griff replied, “and we’d like to be left undisturbed until we ring for you.”
Susan couldn’t see Griff’s face but, judging by the glint of amusement in Jenkinson’s eyes, she suspected some message understood only by males of the species passed between the two men.
Her suspicions were proven correct when Griff launched himself at her before the door had even clicked closed.
Elated to discover this beautiful man evidently found her attractive, she surrendered to his kiss, happily suckling his tongue as wanton cravings rampaged through her body.
*
The rational sideof Griff’s brain insisted on an explanation.What in blazes had he done? Had he actually asked Susan to marry him? Was he mad?
However, reason stood no chance against the craving to taste this feisty woman, to touch every part of her tempting body, to make her his. If the only way to have her was for them to wed, then so be it. He’d be obliged to marry sooner or later.
His heart acknowledged there was more to it than simple expediency. He admitted inwardly he’d been happy during the two weeks they’d spent together at Clifton Heights—happier than he’d been in many a year. With Susan in residence, the house had felt like a home again.
Swept along on a river of thoughts and emotions, he savored the growled response of the woman beneath him on the settee when he cupped her breast and played with the rigid nipple.
The tantalizing aroma of female arousal stole up his nostrils. It was humbling that a woman who mistrusted men wanted him. Susan wasn’t a person to give her love lightly. Nor was she the sort a man could betray—strangely, he was contentedly comfortable with the prospect of fidelity.
He wanted Susan more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life, but he might alienate her if he attempted to take her on the settee in her drawing room. That kind of behavior belonged to the old Griff. “I want you, Susan,” he rasped, lost in the gray depths full of longing. “This isn’t the time or place to make you mine, but let me pleasure you.”
*
Susan’s life hadbeen full of pleasing things. Campaigning against slavery brought righteous satisfaction. She loved reading, both novels and weighty tomes. She relished intelligent conversations with friends and family over a good cup of tea. Emma’s children were a source of delight. Even Patsy’s poodles could sometimes be counted on to brighten a dull day. She lived in a comfortable house, refurbished and modernized after the fire. Orion was a newly discovered passion.
She lacked for nothing. Or she’d thought so, until Griff Halliwell came into her life. His kiss gave rise to previously unknown sexual cravings. His deep voice promising pleasure thrummed through her body. She’d always been proud of being a woman who wanted more out of life than society was often willing to give. Now, life had brought her a man who would teach her what being a woman was really all about.
She lay on the settee, intoxicated by the desire in his emerald gaze. He wanted her—Susan the unlovable bluestocking held power over a man. All her life, she’d resented male domination—but giving herself to Griff wouldn’t mean surrender. It would complete her.
She knew a moment’s hesitation when he knelt beside the settee and pushed her skirts up to reveal her pantaloons.
“Trust me,” he whispered. “You’ll enjoy it.”
He was right. She had to trust him if they were to be married. “I want you to touch me,” she replied in a sultry voice she barely recognized.
Smiling, he took her hand and placed it on his most intimate maleness. Masculine heat penetrated the wool of his breeches. Desire blossomed inside her, causing an embarrassing gush of liquid just as he gently, almost reverently, pushed her skirts to her hips.
She was mortified. He couldn’t fail to notice the moisture when he spread her legs, parted the tops of her pantaloons and gazed at a part of her body she’d never seen.
She stopped breathing when he lowered his head and swiped his tongue over a very sensitive spot. His member pulsed beneath her hand.
“You’re delicious,” he growled, “so very wet for me.”
“I didn’t know…” she tried, awed by the sight of his head between her legs.
“Let me show you,” he replied. “Lay back and relax.”
She obeyed, though relaxing was out of the question when he lapped like a cat laps up cream. He purred, the vibration of his lips only adding to the sensual delights running rampant through her body.