Taffeta & Hotspur

He frowned as he made an attempt to stop it, but as he looked at her full breasts, nipples hard and probing the soft material of her gown, his hard-on began to pulse. Hell and fire!

This had to stop—she was a veritable schoolgirl, and then as she turned fully to him with her aunt’s introductions, he saw her face. Hell and fire is right. She is stunning!

Her gray eyes were bright with amusement, her nose pert, her lips full and rosy, and he wanted to take her into his arms and drive his tongue into her mouth and…

“I am very pleased to meet you.” His tone was reserved.

She laughed. “Are you? You don’t look very pleased. In fact, you are wearing a scowl,” Taffy said, her merriment charming.

He chuckled in spite of himself, “Am I?” He gave her a false smile. He had to set her apart, to display he wasn’t interested. “Is that better?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Try again when you mean it,” said Taffy, turning her back to him and plopping herself on the sofa with his aunt.

“Tarrant surprised me with a visit when he arrived yesterday. I was just about to tell him you, Seth, and Nigel were coming for luncheon today when you arrived.”

“Oh, is that why he is all dark and gloomy?” Taffy teased. “Thought he would have you all to himself? Well, we won’t intrude too long…” She smiled up at Tarrant sweetly.

He was again taken by surprise. She was at least refreshingly direct, and then he scowled and turned away from her to enter into conversation with the two young gentlemen who were in a lively discussion at his back.

Taffy entered their discussion about politics, and before long, he found he was actually enjoying himself. Their ideas were innovative, youthful, naïve at times, but definitely interesting. He had never met a woman interested in such matters before. His aunt appeared totally at sea and got to her feet, telling them she would see about getting things ready in the dining room.

Taffy was off the sofa and standing with them, wagging her finger at her brother with good humor, laughing, pointing out references from the Chronicle, quoting members of Parliament, and fascinating him.

He was taken aback by her, sure he should not be conversing with such a young chit in such a fashion and yet…

Her style had caught his interest, and the next thing he knew, he was watching the way she moved. Her walk was a series of bounces—so full of life, and her body looked so damned provocative. There was something in her every step displaying she was happy to be alive, and yet, she was graceful and feminine. She was new, shiny and bright … but he knew better than to fall victim to such charms. She seemed to glide in a whirlwind of unconscious high spirits and displayed sweet affection when his aunt had remarked something amusing. She hugged his aunt affectionately and placed a kiss upon her white cheek.

“Don’t squeeze me so, child,” cried Lady Watson with a laugh. “I’m too old and will, in all likelihood, crack.” She took Taffy’s hand. “Now … in with you … time to eat.”

“Is it true they call you the Hotspur…?” Seth asked as they walked toward the dining room.

His uncle exclaimed in a shocked accent, “Seth!”

“What?” He took to blushing.

Tarrant laughed out loud and bowed his head. “The same, sir,” he said as he noted from the corner of his eye Lady Taffeta was studying him rather openly. It was not a surprising circumstance. He had achieved over the years an education in the arts of the female. He had been subjected to maids of many admirable qualities and had suffered more than he cared to remember from their missish airs and coy flirtations. He knew he was a marriage prize. He knew, but it had not always been so. It had not been true when his oldest brother had still been alive with both the title and most of the fortune. He had only been the second son and had been in love with a beautiful woman, but she had wanted more … more than the second son.

He understood the game, and he loathed its intricacies and its inherent dishonesty.

They reached the dining room, took their seats, and Taffeta asked him across the table, “That black of yours, the stud we saw when we came up the drive, is magnificent. I don’t think he was here when we were last,” she said and then turned to his aunt, “Was he, Lizzie dear?”

“Absurd child, what would I do with such a beast? His name is Demon, and he belongs to Tarrant here,” answered Lady Watson. “His lordship is considered quite a horseman, and we believe Demon will let no other on his back.”

“A Corinthian is what his lordship is.” Taffy’s brother stuck in and then receded into a deprecatory cough. “Or so I have heard…”

Taffy turned her bright gray, interested gaze back to Lord

Tarrant. “So then, are you saying Demon is the very devil to handle, my lord?” Her eyes twinkled at him, and once again he was mesmerized by her.

“That he is, in fact it’s how he got his name.” He discovered that against his will, she had drawn a smile from him. He had meant to ignore her to the point of rudeness.

Lady Watson’s pug, at this point, managed to push open the dining room door, which had not been totally closed. He stopped at the threshold, surveying the assembled group, and with a screeching series of barks, ran over, and dove into Lady Taffeta’s lap.

She petted the dog with a laugh, saying, “Do stop it, you vicious, adorable little thing. There now, go sit by Lizzie … there is a good boy.”

~*~

With this, Taffy returned her attention to her companions and discovered Nigel and her brother had engaged Tarrant in conversation, and she used the time to better peruse him.