Earl of Sussex (Wicked Lords of London 0.50)

Her mother had been so busy, she hadn’t even noticed that Tabbie had snuck off to the library, nor had her mother realized that Luke had joined her behind said plant. Not that she intended to enlighten her mother, but really.

Nor was her mother aware that Tabbie wasn’t listening. At least until her mother mentioned Luke. “I suppose you’ve managed to capture the attention of the Earl of Sussex, though his interest is almost upsetting. Such intensity. Perhaps I should speak to your father. Sussex leaves today and these sorts of visits often end without a contract. It wouldn’t be unusual—”

Tabbie stood, interrupting her mother. This was her opportunity. If she and her mother rejected Luke’s suit then her father would surely crumble. “If not Sussex, then who?”

Her mother blinked up at her. “Lord Crummell, of course.” Her mother gave her a gentle smile. “He’s rather smitten with you and unlike Sussex, he is a kind and personable man.”

This should be excellent news, but the corners of her mouth turned down. Thoughts of marrying Crummell filled her with…dull dread. While he did seem perfectly nice, he was boring, not all that sharp, and not particularly manly. He’d never understand her the way Luke did. Nor would Crummell inspire the same feelings. If he kissed the way he danced, then her life would be passionless.

But was that better than the alternative? Luke was exciting, intelligent, and exhilarating, but likely to break her heart.

Her mother blinked at her again, clearly expecting some sort of response. “Forgive me, Mama. I need to think all of this over. Can we discuss this again later?”

Her mother gave her a genuine smile. “An excellent idea. A lady should take her time with such decisions. I’m glad to see you exercising some feminine restraint.”

Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head at the words. Restraint was the last thing she practiced when with Luke. But with a nod, she swept out of her mother’s room.

She needed quiet to sift through her swirling thoughts. She made her way to her own suite of rooms. Entering quickly, she locked the door behind her, not wishing to be disturbed.

Her breathing was ragged as she leaned her forehead against the wood door. Luke frightened her but Crummell might just frighten her more. Not in the same way. She’d likely be bored to death.

“What’s wrong?” a deep rich voice spoke from just behind her.

She jumped and made to scream, but a hand covered her mouth, another snaking around her waist. The solid mass of a man pressing against her back. His touch was gentle and she heard him chuckle. Of course it was Luke’s voice. Who else would think to enter her room uninvited? Her hands came up to his to move them away from her mouth. “What are you doing in here?”

“I needed to speak with you before I return to London,” he rasped as his hand brushed down her neck to rest on her collarbone.

Her nerves jumped for an entirely different reason. He’d be in London, alone, with all those beautiful ladies. “If you get caught in here, there is no escaping the marriage noose.”

“I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to escape.”

“And I thought I made it clear that I was still deciding and you made it clear that you would allow me to do so.” Irritation bubbled inside her and she turned in his arms to tell him just that.

But looking at him made productive conversation so difficult. Especially when Luke dipped his head to capture her lips. She was breathless by the time he lifted it again. “No one will find us, love. I promise.”

“What are you doing here?” she repeated.

“I thought I told you already.” One of his eyebrows shifted up as he brushed his thumb across her puffy lips.

“Obviously, I found your answer insufficient,” she attempted to huff, but it came out breathy.

He searched her eyes, his own soft. “Since trust seems to be our biggest obstacle, I feared you would worry over our separation. I wanted to assure you, privately, that there is no need to fret. I will not so much as look at another woman until I see you on Friday.”

She took a breath. Much as she appreciated his words, they did little to quell her real fears and her questions tumbled out. “What is happening Friday? What about after Friday? How would I even know you kept your promise?”

His lips covered hers in a breathless kiss that made her forget the rest of the questions bubbling inside which was likely his intent. Then he slowly raised his head. “Friday is the masquerade ball. You will be in attendance and I will make sure to be as well. Only you can decide if you can trust me this week and the weeks that follow. But I swear to you, Tabbie, if you choose to be my wife, there will be no other.”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she looked up at him. She wanted to believe him, more than anything. But the seed of doubt that had been planted would not wash away. “I want to believe…” she whispered.

He kissed her a third time, pressing her back to the door. Then his lips began blazing a trail down her neck, over her collarbone.

She was so focused on the feel of his lips that she nearly missed his hands bunching up her skirts so that they rose above her knees to her thighs.

His voice was gruff as he kissed the valley between her breasts. “Let me show you what else I can give you.” And then he dropped to his knees, his head disappearing under layers of fabric.

“What…what…are you…doing?” she gasped. But his fingers had parted her pantaloons, and slipping them in the slit of the fabric, he brushed her folds. Her hips jerked and her knees started to buckle but he used his broad shoulders to prop her up. Stroking her more deeply, she felt him open her up as his tongue touched her most intimate place.

She lost the ability to think or reason as the pleasure built inside her. His tongue caressed her over and over until she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out. Her legs refused to support her entirely as she trembled and clenched with the need building inside.