Why Lords Lose Their Hearts Page 10

  Before Vyse could continue, or Archer could attempt once more to make him stop talking or leave, another voice sounded from the doorway, and to Perdita’s extreme discomfort Lord Dunthorp elbowed his way past the onlookers. “My dear duchess,” he exclaimed, so loudly that Perdita suspected they’d heard him on the front steps of the house. “Pray tell me you are unharmed by this ruffian! First the attack yesterday in the park and now this! It’s not to be borne.” He knelt before her and took both her hands in his own.

  Perdita kept from snatching them away by sheer dint of will. But every fiber of her being wanted Dunthorp to get away from her. Now.

  At the mention of the attack in the park, the room erupted with conversation as everyone who had been too well bred to ask about what they’d all devoured in this morning’s papers took the opportunity afforded them by Dunthorp to have their curiosity satisfied.

  Vyse, no longer the center of attention, and likely overcome by drink, slumped against the wall, and was escorted from the room by two other gentlemen who were either friends of his, or saw his removal as a good deed.

  “You must have been terrified,” Lady Gowan said from the French doors.

  “Have they caught the ruffian yet?” Lord Goodnight demanded, his walruslike mustache communicating his worry.

  “Could it have been the ghost of your husband?” whispered old Lady Moreton, who was known to hold séances fortnightly. “If it was a violent death his spirit could be unsettled.”

  When Archer stopped just behind where Dunthorp knelt clasping her hands, Perdita nearly wept with relief. Perhaps she would have to rethink the idea of marrying Dunthorp, she thought, wishing he would back up. He’d clearly had onions for supper and the smell was making her nauseous.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord,” Archer said in that tone Perdita knew meant he was not to be gainsaid. “But I think it would be best for Her Grace to leave.” When Dunthorp made no move to get out of the way, Archer added, “Sooner rather than later.”

  Still the other man ignored him, saying to Perdita, “I knew something like this would happen as soon as I learned you were coming tonight.”

  “How could you possibly have known?” Perdita asked, wondering if she’d mentioned it in conversation sometime earlier in the week.

  “I called at your house this evening shortly before the dinner hour,” he said calmly. He’d been trying to wangle a dinner invitation, she thought with annoyance. “As I was concerned about your health after yesterday’s—”

  Perdita cut him off, “My lord, as you can see, I am well. And I agree with Lord Archer that we should leave now. I no longer wish to be here and endure being the center of attention.”

  “Of course we must leave,” Dunthorp said indulgently. “If Lord Archer would just have my coach pulled around, we can be gone at once.”

  Behind him, Archer raised a brow and Perdita returned the look with widened eyes. Clearly Dunthorp was ascribing more importance to their relationship than she was. “Lord Dunthorp,” she said firmly, “I should like to return home with my own party. Thank you all the same.”

  But to her surprise, Dunthorp would not take no for an answer. She could see that Archer was losing patience, but thankfully, Con stepped forward and addressed the kneeling man. “Dunthorp, old fellow. I should like to talk to you about putting in some protection measures at Ormond House. The duke has asked me to do so and I thought since you are clearly concerned about Her Grace’s safety, you might wish to discuss it with me.”

  Clearly liking this line of thought, Dunthorp rose. “Of course. An excellent notion.” Turning to Perdita, he said, “I will exchange a few words with Lord Coniston before we go. I won’t be but a few minutes.”

  When he turned he saw Archer was still standing there, and his brow furrowed. “I thought I asked you to have my carriage brought round.”

  Archer didn’t blink. “I’m afraid you’ve confused me with one of the servants, Dunthorp. I am the son of a duke. A younger son to be sure, but fetching carriages is not something I do. Especially when it goes against the wishes of a lady.”

  Dunthorp stood up straighter, though he was still half a head shorter than Archer. Perdita rather thought Archer made Dunthorp look much worse by comparison. “Now see here,” he began, before Con slipped an arm around his shoulders and led him away. Perdita could hear him saying, “Now, personally, I think armed guards are the way to go, but Ormond disagrees. Where do you stand on the issue?”

  To Perdita’s relief, Dunthorp forgot his annoyance with Archer in the onslaught of pride brought on by Con’s trust.

  “You’ve got a problem there,” Georgina said from beside her. “I thought I was going to have to use my pistol.”

  “Good God,” Archer said, gaping. “You carry it with you to routs?”

  “One never knows when someone will need to be shot,” Georgie said with a shrug. “I think I’ll go see where Con took Lord Dumbthorp.”

  Perdita giggled at the wordplay, and then saw that she was about to be accosted by a very large lady whose avid expression marked her as someone who wished to discuss something with her that she’d find unpleasant. Perdita wasn’t sure what, but she didn’t want to find out. “Get me out of this place,” she told Archer, who took her arm and protected her from all importunity as they made their way to retrieve their cloaks and wait for the carriage.

  Ten

  The ride back to Ormond House was blessedly swift, despite the number of other vehicles making their exodus from Elphinstone House.

  Everyone headed up to bed, and though he’d exchanged a look with Perdita, he wasn’t quite sure whether what they’d planned earlier in the day was still on after what had happened at the Elphinstones’.

  Still, when he knocked on her bedchamber door once everyone at Ormond House was abed, Perdita opened it almost before his knuckles hit the wood.

  “Hurry,” she whispered, shooing him in. “You weren’t seen, were you?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” he responded, as she shut the door behind him. He turned to look at her—really look—and he caught his breath as he saw how beautiful she was. She’d donned a nearly transparent gown that left very little to the imagination when it came to her lithe curves. He could see the shadow of her nipples through the thin fabric as well as the hint of triangle at the juncture of her thighs.

  It was the most sensual garment he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Seeing the direction of his gaze, Perdita crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry about the gown. I’ve never engaged in an affair before. I wanted to be alluring for you. Though I’m not sure alluring is something I can do.”

  “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your gown,” Archer said, hoping his eyes conveyed that as well as his words. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than you in that gown, Perdita. In fact, I think I should like to have a painting of it to keep in my bedchamber.”

  “Really?” The words came out in a whisper as he crossed to stand before her. “I thought it was perhaps a bit too…”

  “It’s not a bit too anything,” he assured her, caressing her face. “You are beautiful, my dear. You don’t need a thin nightrail to tell me that, but I am a man, after all. If I were immune to what that silk does for you I think I’d have to be dead.”

  “Really?” she asked in a surprised voice, stepping into the circle of his arms.

  “Really,” he said on a whisper as he kissed her. Softly, oh so softly, he moved his mouth on hers, kissing and lightly sucking as she opened her mouth and let him in. Perdita answered the first thrust of his tongue with a lick of her own.

  “Why am I nearly naked, when you are still almost fully clothed?” Perdita asked as he brought his lips down over her chin. Her hands moved restlessly over the lawn of his shirt. “It’s not quite fair, sir.”

  “I’ll disrobe just as soon as I do this one thing,” he said against her skin. He was intoxicated by the smell, the feel, the taste of her. As he kissed down her chest, he f
elt her fingers in his hair. And when he bent to suckle her through the thin fabric of her gown, she made a sound that sent all of his blood southward.

  “Oh, that. That’s divine,” she said in a low voice that thrummed in his belly. And when he lightly pulled at her nipple the hands in his hair pulled him closer. “Archer, my God.”

  “No,” he whispered, “just a man.” Kissing his way back up to her mouth, he bent slightly and slid his right hand beneath her knees. “I think this would be much more comfortable on a soft surface,” he said as he lifted her into his arms.

  Surprised, Perdita made a little squeak. “I could have walked, you know,” she said in a faint voice. “But this is much nicer.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” he said, lowering her onto the large bed, which had been turned down earlier. He leaned down to kiss her again, craving the warmth of her mouth, her skin.

  She scooted over to make room for him, and Archer climbed up alongside her, propping his head up on his hand. “Perdita,” he said, trying to keep his voice level while his body warred with what his heart and mind told him was necessary before anything more happened between them. “I don’t know what sort of things Gervase…” He paused, searching for the right words. “If he was rough with you,” he said, “or if there is anything from your time with him you find uncomfortable or unsettling, you must tell me. Please. Tonight is for pleasure. Yours is paramount. Mine will happen no matter what, simply by dint of my sex.”

  At his words, her face lost the glow she’d had a moment ago, and he thought perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything. But then she spoke. “You are the sweetest man I’ve ever met, Archer Lisle.” She leaned forward to kiss him softly, and to bring her body flush with his. From head to toe. Archer felt each and every point of connection. “Gervase was rough with me at times,” she continued, her face serious even as she stroked his arm, slid her hand down to clasp her hand with his. “I thought then that I would never, ever want to be with a man again.”

  Archer fought to keep from showing his disappointment.

  “But,” she said, leaning in to kiss his neck, “I have had a great deal of time to think about it. And I’ve…” She ducked her head under his chin, hiding her face, “I’ve found myself watching you, wanting you for some time. And if ever there was a man I could trust to be nothing like Gervase, it’s you.”

  A sigh escaped him as he pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. “My dear girl, I have felt much the same way about you. But I beg you to let me know if anything I do bothers you. All right?”

  “All right,” she said as he pressed his lips against hers again. He stroked into her mouth again and again, allowing his hand to wander down over the silk of her gown as he did so. Inch by inch he slid it up until he could touch the soft skin beneath, and Perdita, not to be outdone, began pulling his shirt from his breeches. When her hand slipped beneath to caress bare skin, Archer hissed a breath in at the sensation of her soft hands on him.

  While she explored his back, he slipped the arm of her nightrail down until her breast was exposed, and went back to it, kissing, sucking, scraping it with his teeth. With each touch Perdita grew more restless, and when he caressed a hand up from her calf to her knee to her thigh, to the place between, she panted a little. “Easy,” he whispered, stroking a finger over her, into her, grateful for her body’s readiness. When he slipped a finger into her, she made a whimpering sound. “Alright?” he asked, though he didn’t remove his hand. “Alright,” she said, nearly breathless, “more than okay.” When he began stroke in and out of her, she grew even more excited, lifting her hips to meet him, and when he added another finger she moaned and continued to move against him.

  Unable to resist, Archer removed his hand, and began to slide down the bed. “What are you doing?” Perdita asked. Her voice was plaintive.

  “Something you’ll like,” he said, parting her knees and sliding first one leg, then the other over his shoulders.

  “Are you…?” She sounded puzzled. “Are you looking at me?”

  “Yes,” he replied, amused. “And then I’m going to taste you.”

  Before she could say anything else, he suited words to action and licked her luxuriantly, and Perdita let out a sound, half moan half sigh. Smiling to himself, Archer savored the scent of her wanting, using his tongue to caress her outer folds, and then stroking up over the sensitive bundle of nerves that brought the most pleasure. As he caressed her, Perdita began to shift her body, lifting her hips in the rhythm he set with his tongue, and soon he brought first one and then two fingers up and pressed them into her as he sucked lightly on her bud. Stroke by stroke, moment by moment, Perdita grew more and more aroused. And by this time Archer was almost painfully hard as he held off on his own pleasure to stoke hers.

  Finally, she hit a point of no return and as he stroked faster and faster into her, and suckled her one last time, she let out a cry and lost herself, her hips jerking uncontrollably until finally, her tremors subsided and she collapsed on the bed, spent.

  * * *

  Perdita had never felt anything more blissful in her life. She’d supposed that Gervase had tried every sort of lovemaking on her. First to woo, then to punish. But she hadn’t known the half of it.

  “What do you call that?” she asked, her voice breathless.

  She heard him chuckle as he kissed her stomach and climbed up to kiss her mouth. She tasted something—herself? It was strangely exciting.

  “The technical term is ‘cunnilingus,’” he said with a half-grin. “And you may rest assured that every schoolboy in the nation spends a great deal of time thinking about it.”

  “I liked it very much,” she said with what almost sounded like a purr. When had she learned to purr?

  While they talked Archer divested himself of the rest of his clothes and Perdita did the same. When he turned, Perdita saw just how beautiful a specimen of manhood he was. And there springing up from a nest of gold curls was a very large, very insistent erection.

  He didn’t linger, but climbed up onto the bed, and as he stretched out beside her, Perdita couldn’t stop herself from sliding her hands over the hard muscles of his chest. He was so well made, she thought. She’d always known he was handsome, of course, but without clothes he was somehow more primitive. More animal. The thought made her breath catch in her throat.

  And at just that moment, Archer gripped her by the arms and flipped onto his back bringing her to sit astride him. As they moved, his erection slid against the center of her, sending another pulse of pleasure through her as it did.

  “Oh,” she gasped as Archer’s hands gripped her hips. In this position, she felt powerful. Experimentally she lifted up onto her knees, bringing herself into contact with his member again.

  “Easy,” he said, pulling her back down. “Not yet.” Curiously she watched as he sheathed himself with something, his fingers brushing against her as he did so, stealing the breath from her. He muttered something, and she wanted to ask him to repeat himself, but when he gripped her hips and brought her forward and up she lost her breath again. Perdita lifted up on her knees a bit and guided the tip of him to her opening. Without further conversation, she lowered herself onto him.

  At first, there was some resistance, but when Archer thrust up, she took him in until he was fully seated and they both moaned.

  “You can control things this way,” he said after a silent moment where they both savored the sensation. “Better.”

  And to her great delight, Perdita learned he was right. Using her thigh muscles she set the pace, raising and lowering onto him, while Archer followed the pace she set and thrust upward on her every downstroke. With each movement, Perdita felt needier and needier, wanting more of him, more friction, more motion. As she moved, Archer leaned forward and took her breast into his mouth. To Perdita’s shock the sensation sent a jolt right down to where they were joined. She kissed him, and felt the same overwhelming sensation his mouth on her mound had brought, only
this time it felt stronger. As if they were more fully connected.

  As her excitement built toward a crescendo, she became mindless to what was going on around her, so when Archer flipped her neatly onto her back, she was only annoyed until he began to stroke harder, and faster into her. The increased intensity, and his hot breath on her neck brought her even higher. And when she felt his thumb on her where they were joined, she tipped right over the edge from excitement to ecstasy, her body on fire as she heard Archer’s hoarse shout, and they both were lost to a moment’s oblivion.

  Eleven

  Archer came back to himself with the realization that he’d collapsed on Perdita’s chest like a green boy. “Sorry,” he murmured as he rolled off her. “Be right back,” he said and padded to where he’d left his cravat and with his back to her removed the French letter and wrapped it in the neck cloth. It wouldn’t do for Perdita’s maid to find it among her things. They had enough eyes on them thanks to the threats against her.

  He’d been waiting to have her for such a long time that he’d feared their first encounter would be awkward. They were friends, after all, and when friends became lovers trouble often followed. But Perdita had far surpassed his expectations. Despite what she’d gone through in her marriage, she’d managed to retain a fresh and natural sensuality that made her every touch and response as exciting as if she were a practiced courtesan.

  He’d expected things to be good between them. It was rare that he felt such a spark with a woman—and he wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced a connection as strong as the one with Perdita. This was very different from the lackluster couplings he’d had with other women. Once more he wished like hell that he could persuade her out of her foolish determination to marry someone else. But patience was a skill he’d learned over his career working with the House of Lords, so he would simply rely upon it to help him to either convince her to marry him, or to wait her out.

  When he climbed back into the bed and pulled her against him, Perdita slipped her arm over his chest and said, “I didn’t mind.”