As a youth he’d been punished for not answering at the table or not joining in a discussion. Sullen, his father had labeled him. Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy.
Beth’s eyes were tight. “My dear Ian, then we are birds of a feather. Mrs. Barrington had to teach me how to behave in society from the ground up, and I still don’t understand all the rules. For instance, do you know it is considered vulgar to eat ices with a spoon? One must use a fork, which seems rather ridiculous. The most difficult is to leave a few morsels of food on the plate, so as not to seem overzealous in eating. I had so many hungry days in my youth that I consider this beyond perplexing.”
Ian let her words wash over him without bothering to follow them. He liked her voice, smooth and cool, like the mountain stream he fished from in the wilds of Scotland. “You call me Ian now,” he said.
She blinked. “Do I?”
“You’ve said it five times since I arrived.”
“You see? I do consider us friends.”
Friends. He wanted so much more than that.
Beth gave him a glance from under her lashes. “Ian, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
He waited, but she took a step back, toying with the silver ring on her left hand He knew jewels well enough to see that the ring was cheap, the one stone in it the merest chip.
Someone poor had given it to her, but she’d kept it with care. She’d returned Mather’s diamond ring without hesitation, but this one was precious to her.
“Ian, I wonder if perhaps . . .”
Ian focused his attention on her words with difficulty. He’d rather listen to her flowing voice, watch the rise and fall of her br**sts, study the movement of her lips. “Since you seem to like me a little,” she said, “I wonder whether you would be interested . . . in having a liaison with me.”
The last words came out in a rush, and lan’s attention snapped to her.
“Have carnal relations, I mean,” Beth continued. “On occasion, when we mutually agree.”
Chapter Seven
Pleasure bubbled through Ian’s tension. “Carnal relations,” he repeated.
“Yes,” she said, her voice shy. “If it would interest you.”
If it would interest me?
“You mean bed,” he said bluntly.
Her blush deepened, her fingers twisting the ring around and around. “Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Not like a mistress, you understand, but just two people enjoying... that side of life. We like each other well enough, and I don’t foresee that I will marry again. Mather frightened me off that, goodness knows. But perhaps we can be . . . lovers, at least while we are in Paris. I’m babbling, I know, but I can’t help myself.”
Did she know how beautiful she was? Her cheeks were flame red, her look both defiant and uncertain. He gazed into her eyes for one fleeting instant and said, “Yes.”
Beth let out a breath that turned to a shaky laugh. “Thank you for not leaving in disgust.”
Disgust? What man could be disgusted with a lady with eyes like hers, who’d just stammered out that she wanted to be his paramour?
Ian took a step back to have a full view of her. She wore a simple frock of mauve broadcloth, the overskirt pleated, the underskirt soft ruffles. A row of buttons shaped like blackberries marched up her bodice to her chin. The damn collar was too high, closing her off instead of exposing her lovely neck.
“We will start now,” he said.
She jumped. “Right now?”
“Before you have second thoughts.”
Beth pressed fingers to her mouth, as though trying to stop her smile. “Very well, what did you have in mind?” “Unbutton your frock.” He came to her and touched the button at the hollow of her throat. He wanted to take it between his teeth and see if it truly tasted of blackberries. “Down to there.”
“Only that?”
“For now.”
She gave him a surprised look but began to undo her buttons. Her pale throat came into view, the hollow damp with perspiration. It was a beautiful throat, long and slender, unmarred.
Ian slid his hands around her waist. She looked up at him, lips parted, but he didn’t kiss her. He gently pushed open the placket, then leaned down and kissed her neck. “Ian.”
“Shh.”
He licked the hollow of her throat, then pulled her soft skin between his teeth.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a love bite.”
“A love—“
Ian bit down, and Beth inhaled sharply. He suckled, keeping it tender. He tasted the salt of her skin, felt her pulse flutter beneath his lips.
Strip for me, he wanted to say. He wanted to see his Beth with her skirts up, her fingers untying the waistband of her pantalets. He wanted her to pull the pantalets down so he could see her triangle of hair glistening with moisture. His already hard erection gave a throb.
He wondered if her ni**les would taste the same as her neck. He wanted to unbutton the bodice and remove the damned corset so he could feast on her br**sts. He wanted to open his mouth over one, grip the other with his hand.
Go slowly with her. Savor this.
Ian raised his head. He let his gaze brush hers, catching a flash of blue before he lowered it to the safety of her lips again.
Very kissable lips. The bottom one curved slightly, as though she liked to smile; the top one was ever so slightly bowed. Her eyes were half closed, her hair mussed, a dark mark on her throat where he’d suckled her.
“Your turn now,” he said.
Ian slid off his frock coat, pulled off his tie and collar.
Beth watched him intently as he bared his throat. She approached him tentatively, keeping her gaze fastened to his neck. Her curls ticked his chin as she leaned into him, her balled hands resting on his shoulders. Her lips touched his throat, warm and firm. Then he felt the tiny prick of her teeth.
He couldn’t stifle his groan as she caught a fold of his skin. The slight pain as she began to suckle made him want to spill his seed. Lay her on the floor, part her legs, send it inside her. Never since he’d been seventeen years old and first excited by the attentions of a rosy-cheeked maid had he come so close to losing control.
He wanted to open his shirt all the way and have Beth apply her mouth to his ni**les. Then let her sink down to her knees to take his staff into her clever mouth and practice giving him love bites there.
Have carnal relations, she’d said in her sweet voice. On occasion, when we mutually agree.
Oh, yes, there would be many occasions, and he would make certain they always agreed.