Or what indeed?
Miss Sutton was staring at him with such brazen defiance, awaiting his response, that for a moment, Garrick could not summon a reply. But the minx had been about to refer to the unfortunate effect kissing her had wreaked upon his cock. And that part of him had already come back to life the moment he had seen her standing on the other side of the private entrance to The Garden of Flora. He hardly required further incentive to want her, damn the fortune-hunting chit, despite all the reason and common sense he possessed.
He was painfully aware of her scent, her nearness, the specks of gold shimmering in her hazel eyes. Of those glorious lashes and all that stunning auburn hair which had formerly been shielded by her bonnet.
In the course of his carrying her to the rose room, the chapeau must have fallen somewhere to the floor. He wished it had not, for those lustrous locks gleamed in the light of the lamps, mocking him, calling for him to pull it free of hairpins and allow it to hang soft and heavy as a curtain down her back. His fingers itched to touch her. His mouth tingled with the memory of hers beneath it.
She had not been wrong to chastise him, even if it was not done for a woman in her position to take a stand against a man like him. He was every bit as guilty as she was, having kissed his brother’s betrothed. And thus he remained, standing here in a bawdy house, lusting after her, longing to touch her again.
Knowing he must not.
Fingers aching with the need.
He tamped down a fresh swell of perverse desire. “Enough,” he managed curtly, speaking to himself as much as to her. “Cease your argument, madam. It is most unbecoming in a lady.”
“But I’m not a lady, Lord Lordly,” she said, her voice low and husky. Almost intimate. “And I don’t give a damn if you consider my words unbecoming. I came here to find Aidan, and you’re distracting me from my course. One can’t help but to wonder why. Have you decided against telling him about our kiss for fear you’ll incite your brother’s wrath? Are you worried he will be outraged to know your mouth was on his future wife’s? That you kissed me as if you wanted me in your bed beneath you?”
Curse the jade.
Her words had what was no doubt their intended effect, producing not just a tide of anger rising to the surface, but a hailstorm of need as well. His reaction was as despicable as it was instant. He could not seem to keep himself from thinking about her in his bed. Beneath him, just as she had taunted. Her soft, lush curves melting against his body, thighs parting for him to settle between, thrusting his cock deep into the inviting heat of her cunny as she arched her back and moaned his name.
My God, man. What have you become?
He loathed himself.
But his cock was suddenly thick and hard, pressing against the fall of his trousers. An attraction to the forbidden was nothing new to Garrick, but how unfair it was to be a servant to the whim of his own desires with this woman in particular, of all the fairer sex. She could not be more wrong—beneath him in class, manners, betrothed to his brother, a cunning fortune-hunter all too eager for a title. Far too similar to Veronica.
Unfortunately, he could not seem to relay that missive to his prick.
He forced a confident, cool smile. It was one he used often and which served him well whenever he wished to remind those present that he was the heir to the Duke of Dryden, and that he was one of the most powerful arbiters of polite society.
Against his better judgment, Garrick leaned toward her. “Take care, my greedy little fortune hunter. It sounds to me as if you are speaking of your own feverish longings rather than mine. Never fear, madam. Do not think yourself the first. I am well accustomed to women who set their caps at me.”
It was true. Half the chits in London swooned if he so much as gazed in their direction across a ballroom. All the bucks wanted to be him. The ladies wanted to marry him. The widows and the unsatisfied wives wanted him in their bedchambers.
Her gaze narrowed. “The only thing I would like to set at you is my fist. I’ve already done so once. Don’t think I’ll not give you another poke. A nice, sound basting is what you need, my lord. Bring a scant hint of sense into that knowledge box of yours.”
Something snapped inside him.
Patience, sanity, outrage? He could not say. The string had rent, whatever it was, and the twain ends would never again meet. A shift happened. And then his hands were moving. Reaching for her. Finding the deliciously feminine curves of her waist beneath her pelisse and gown, pulling her nearer.
She came willingly, her hands on his chest, soft and hesitant as butterflies. There was no rejection, no effort made to push him away or escape. His head dipped, mouth seeking hers as if it were the most natural act, as if it were inevitable.
And inevitable it was.
His senses were aflame. The touch of her lips to his ignited a conflagration. God, her mouth felt good. Silken and hot and delicious. Why? Why should this woman, above any other, affect him thus? Her lips opened, and he forgot to care. He cupped her face, angling her head so he could deepen the kiss, and licked into her mouth. The delicate whimper of surrender that left her was enough to make him almost dizzied with lust. Their tongues moved together, and he could not suppress his groan of raw need.
He was so damned hard, the fit of his trousers making his cockstand almost painful. But he liked it. He liked the way she made him feel. Desperate and greedy and sinful and powerful all at once. He would give in for this moment. Perhaps another.
His fingers were moving of their own accord, finding those hated hairpins that were keeping her locks in such a careful, plain chignon and plucking them away. Ping, ping, ping. They rained upon the rose carpets.
Roses, yes.
Reality intruded. He was at The Garden of Flora where each private chamber possessed a floral theme. Sophie was circumspect; she would guard a man’s secret with her life, for her trustworthiness was her livelihood. The rest of the staff as well knew to keep the habits of their patrons quiet. Still, he could not afford to ruin himself here in such fashion. He needed to remember the reason he had come to begin with.
Two reasons, in truth.
The first had been to determine if his brother was present. The second had been to distract himself from the very persistent, wholly unwanted longings which had been plaguing him for days.
The longings that kept him from stopping now.
Just a moment more.
Another kiss.
Their mouths moved in feverish unison, teeth nipping, tongues tangling. It was raw and furious, anger mixed with undiluted lust. And he had never experienced anything quite so exquisite.
He wanted to consume her, to mark her, to bring her to her knees, to conquer and claim her. And then he wanted her to conquer and claim him in return. This passionate creature would never be happy as his brother’s wife. She would make Aidan’s life a misery.
Perhaps Garrick ought to take a mistress after all.
No! What was wrong with him? He was stronger than his desires.
He tore his mouth from Miss Sutton’s and straightened to his full height, irritated at the raggedness of his breathing, the erratic beats of his heart, the longing still filling him with desire.
They stood there together, hands still on each other’s bodies, gazes locked.