Nicholas reached out his arms and snagged her, dragging her close to him and shutting off her scream with a deep, searching kiss. Cressida’s stiff form relaxed into him and returned the kiss. Pleasure swam through his veins in an exciting rush. God, he would never get the taste of her out of his head. Not in this lifetime. When eventually he allowed her to breathe, she gasped and then whispered, “Thank God, it is you, Nicholas.”
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he hissed in disbelief. “The marquess or one of his servants could have discovered you just now.”
She hugged him. “Oh, Nicholas, I am so glad it is you.”
“I should wring your neck,” he muttered.
She muffled her laugh against his chest and pulled away. “Where is the painting?”
“In the bedchamber above stairs. I was returning for it.”
Her eyed widened. “Truly?”
“Yes. Now what are you doing here?”
Her throat worked on a visible swallow. “I realized I made a mistake and hastened to your lodgings. You were already gone, and I thought there was no help for it, I had to hurry and steal back the painting before the marquess left his club.”
He was truly dispossessed of an answer for precious moments. “You thought yourself capable of breaking in and entering the man’s home without being discovered?”
“Well, yes,” she said pertly. “Youare the one who stopped me by mere chance. I would have clearly been successful.”
Bloody hell. Nicholas hauled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “What mistake did you realize?” he asked gruffly.
She leaned more into him and softly said, “I could not bear for anyone but you to see me like…to see me like that.”
The feelings that powered through Nicholas robbed him of breath. “Good. It was for the same reason I was returning for the portrait. Now let’s steal it back and get the hell out of here. Wait here for me in the shadows.”
“Yes.”
Nicholas lightly ran up the stairs and picked up the painting and then taking the stairs two at a time ran back down to where Cressida stood waiting for him. Relieved, they headed for the drawing room but heard a key in the front door.
“What rotten luck!” she gasped, her eyes widening.
The window banged shut with the through draught. Then the sound of footsteps in the hall and some shuffling as Linfield hung up his greatcoat and disposed of his beaver hat. Nicholas noticed that the folding wall to the adjoining room was slightly ajar. Putting a finger to his lips, he picked up his painting and took Cressida’s hand, leading her to the other room.
Despite the ruinous situation, her eyes glittered with secret thrill, and he found himself hiding a smile. This woman would fit perfectly with his family, especially his sisters.
They crept away and Nicholas silently helped her through the window, then the painting and finally himself. He grabbed his boots and the picture and fled together down the path to the street. They could hear noises and shouting from behind them, but they did not look back.
Laughter rushed from her, and Nicholas grinned, tightening his fingers on her. On the street a few houses down a carriage stood waiting.
“Hurry, that’s my sister’s carriage,” Cressida said, smiling up at him.
The footman stoically lowered the steps, his expression professionally inscrutable. They bounded inside, and he carefully arranged the wrapped canvas to one side. As the carriage rattled away, Cressida laughed again.
“Should that experience have been so glorious?”
Nicholas hauled her into his lap, and she gasped breathlessly as she tumbled against his chest. He crashed his mouth against her, swallowing her sweet sound of surrender. God, he’d missed her. Only hours ago he had made love to her, yet it felt like a lifetime and also only a few minutes ago. Hunger was a live entity writhing inside his chest.
“Come home with me,” he said against her mouth.
“Oh, I wish to,” she cried, kissing him with urgent motions. “I promised my sister I would return as soon as possible for us to travel together for the ball. I cannot disappoint her so or let her worry!”
They jerked slightly as the carriage hit a rut in the road. That move shoved her more onto his lap and lust fired through his body. Nicholas cupped her cheeks, kissing her deeply, tangling their tongues in an erotic glide of sensual pleasure. His Cressida responded with sweet passion and lustful wickedness darted though him.
Without releasing her mouth from his kisses, Nicholas positioned her atop his lap so that she sat astride him. Then he reached between their bodies and freed his cock from behind his clasp. He glided his fingers up underneath the skirt of her simple dress, luxuriating in the silken feel of her stockings and then supple skin underneath his fingertips.
Cressida moaned, shivering in his embrace, her hips already undulating in instinctive want. She threaded her fingers through his hair, gripping him tightly when he slipped his fingers through her drawers and rubbed his thumb around her clitoris. She rewarded him with a pulse of wetness and a sensual groan.