“I didn’t wear one.” Her gaze fell to the opening of his shirt. “What happened to your coat and cravat?”
“Clothes can be an encumbrance. I was caught unawares.” He pressed his lips lightly to hers, just once, and the surrounding air sparked with a vibrant intensity she’d never known. “Much like now.”
“You’ve not considered kissing me before?”
A weak chuckle escaped him. Even that sounded seductive. “Many times. And with your permission, I will kiss you now. Properly, if I may.”
“You may.” Lydia’s heart thumped so hard in her chest she could hear it pounding in her ears. “Kiss me now before I die from anticipation.”
His arm snaked around her back, strong and protective, and he pulled her to his chest.
“It’s not wise to tempt the devil,” he whispered as he tilted her head back and his mouth found hers.
She expected another chaste kiss, a quick press of the lips, sweet and tender. But by God, she was wrong. Greystone devoured her like a man starved. She swayed with the power of it, clung on to him as the ground dissolved beneath her feet.
Hot and wet, his tongue traced the seam of her lips and penetrated her mouth. Shock gave way to desire. Despite her inexperience, her tongue brushed tentatively against his, but Greystone demanded more. He teased her, coaxed her until, in an explosion of passion, she thrust against him, clutched his shirt, caressed the hard planes of his chest. She couldn’t get enough of him, of his taste, his smell, of the raw, masculine feel of his body.
A moan of pleasure resonated in the back of her throat. And she was lost in it, sinking amid an exhilarating euphoria. Every part of her came alive. Tingles sparked throughout her body. The heaviness in her stomach moved southwards and all she could think of was easing the delicious ache that cried out for his touch.
“Greystone,” she panted as he moved to rain kisses down the column of her throat. The touch of his lips scorched her skin. One hand slid up under her cloak, moving higher in a soothing caress.
“You have bewitched me, Miss Lovell.” His large palm covered her breast. Her nipple peaked, pushed defiantly against the restrictions of the fabric, ached for freedom. “Bewitched me to the point that I can’t stop touching you, can’t stop wanting you.”
“Don’t stop.” The whispered words seemed to come from a place abandoned by sense and logic. She loved it there—in this idyllic haven away from the harsh realities of life.
The devil growled.
Greystone gripped her waist and lifted her to sit on the sacrificial stone. How apt, for she was about to offer herself to him mind and body.
The thought was sobering, until his hands edged under her dress, skimmed her thighs and moved up past the tops of her stockings. And then she wanted to feel him in her intimate place, needed him to bring an end to the inner torment.
He edged higher … so close.
Their ragged breathing filled the air.
Touch me. Do it. Do it now.
She could think of nothing but him—of his teasing touch and captivating kisses.
“Lord Greystone?”
The words echoed in the hazy recesses of her mind as his fingers slipped through the dark curls between her thighs.
“Lord Greystone.”
The voice was clearer this time—French in origin. Indeed, Greystone heard it, too, for he muttered a curse, whipped his hand from under her skirts and straightened her dress. Lydia wanted to cry out at the loss. Her body ached with disappointment, with unsatisfied need.
Greystone adjusted the fall of his breeches and swung around. “Dariell” was all he said as he offered Lydia his hand and assisted her to her feet. “I hope it is important.”
A figure came into view—a man, short and slender. He wore loose-fitting trousers and a tunic top in midnight blue. His hair was long, dark and tied back in a queue, and his whole countenance conveyed an air of mystery.
“Forgive me, monseigneur.” He bowed. “The rest of the men, they have been disposed of. I came to find you, to be certain no more were lingering here in the woods.”
“Thank you, Dariell.” Greystone’s tone conveyed a hint of annoyance. “All is well. I shall return to the manor presently.”
“Of course.” Dariell bowed again, backed out of the circle and disappeared into the night.
A brief silence ensued.