“I have something I must confess.”
“There is no need for you to confess anything, Your Grace,” she said into the wind. “If you have come to voice your regret over what transpired at the stream, there is no need.” It pained her to know he found her so unacceptable.
His lips twisted in annoyance. “You’ve no idea what I wish to say.”
“Stop scowling at me. I grow weary of it.” Her heart had only begun to sort through her muddled feelings for Granby, and here he was, stomping about in his arrogant way, determined to undermine her progress. “The incident is forgotten. We shall never speak of it or endure an awkward walk again. You may continue to dislike me. I shall return the favor.”
The grass whipped about as Granby sat next to her with a grunt. He looked as if he wished to strangle her with his cravat. Which was expertly tied.
“Stop looking at my cravat,” he growled, “to see if it meets with your approval.”
“I was only going to say it is a lovely hue.”
“Like tepid bathwater,” he snapped, before stretching his long body out in the grass beside her.
They lay there together, only mere inches separating them, staring at the sky for the longest time until Romy’s hand crawled across to his, her fingers gently caressing the crease of his thumb.
“Andromeda.” Her name choked out of him. He rolled to his side and brought her wrist to his mouth, pressing his lips against her pulse. Dark eyes flashed across her face with the sheen of brushed velvet.
The merest touch emboldened her. Brazenly, she pulled his mouth down to hers, thinking only of being close to him. The confusion spiraling inside her settled as a sense of contentment enveloped her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Romy notched her body against the hard length of his.
Granby gave a sharp, ragged breath, the wall of ice around him shattering enough to leave small fissures for Romy to crawl through.
His palm brushed against one breast with a groan, cupping the underside, squeezing gently until her nipple peaked.
“Christ. You aren’t wearing a corset.” He pulled away from her lips.
“No, I—” Romy almost told him she’d designed several day dresses specifically so she wouldn’thaveto be constrained by a corset. It was difficult to walk or try to picnic in one, let alone lay in the grass to be kissed by a large male. “You see—”
“I don’t care.” His mouth fell on hers, ferocious and urgent, cutting off the rest of her explanation.
Romy was falling, surrendering to the intoxication of Granby. His mouth ravaged hers, exploring her with his lips and tongue while the low hum between her thighs spread across her entire body. She could even feel it in the tips of her toes. All Romy wanted was to be closer to him, her hips tilting upward, offering herself to Granby.
His hand left her breast, moving with purpose down her skirts, tracing the outline of her legs beneath the layers of fabric. When his hand reached her ankle, his fingers tightened.
The pulsing of her body robbed every other coherent thought from her mind, including the fact that the remainder of the house party was roaming about a stone circle some distance away. She struggled to press her lower body closer to his, desperate to ease the growing ache inside her.
Granby threw a leg over her, stilling her movements. “No,” he whispered.
The hand climbed up inside her skirts.
“Granby.” Her breath hitched as the warmth of his fingers touched her knee. “You’ve avoided me for days.” Her head fell back with a sigh at the gentle caress her thigh received. “Don’t you think—”
He ignored her, his mouth catching hers once more while his hand continued its journey, pausing to stroke the skin of her inner thigh. He paused there, waiting.
Romy’s legs fell apart, permission for him to go further, gasping as the tip of his forefinger trailed along the opening of her underthings. Moisture spilled, encouraged by his touch, welcoming his exploration of her flesh. A voice at the back of her mind screamed that anyone could come upon them. She’d be ruined or worse.
A moan left her as his finger dragged along her slit, sliding through her now wet flesh.
“Someday,” he murmured against her lips, “I’ll kiss you here.” His finger teased at the small bit of flesh which ached for him.
The very thought of him doing such a thing sent another rush of moisture between her thighs. Romy twisted, forcing herself more fully against his questing fingers as Granby gently teased at her flesh, sinking two fingers deep inside her. His thumb brushed softly back and forth, the fingers thrusting inside her until she lay panting beneath him.
He tore his lips from hers, cupping the side of her cheek, dark eyes burning against her skin. His thumb pressed down, breaking a damn of sensation free inside her.
Romy arched back, a cry leaving her mouth before Granby’s lips met hers again to swallow the sound. She was floating in a cloud of bliss inspired by clever fingers and the yearning of her own heart.
Granby pressed a kiss to her temple. “Beautiful, beautiful.”
