Kissed at Midnight Page 15

  “You can do this, Ivy.”

  She nodded quickly and her lips gave a little quiver. He released her hands, knowing he had to let her go. She would go in through the rear of the house whilst he would go in the front to go through the receiving line. Master and servant once again. But not for long. Soon she would be the toast of the town and he’d have to let her go for good.

  The carriage door was pulled open by the groom and he stepped out then helped her down. Plenty of other guests were arriving so he didn’t dare press a kiss to her hand again or even give into temptation and kiss those full lips.

  Carriages rolled up to the front steps of the Palladian-style building, crunching the gravel beneath their wheels. Ladies and gentlemen in fine evening attire alighted from them. The glow from the torches lining the road and the front of the house glinted off silks and satins and jewels.

  Nothing about their situation would allow him to bend down and offer her some comfort by way of a kiss but the idea teased in his mind. He took her arm, head held high and led her around the side of the house to the rear entrance.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed.

  “Go in here,” he said. “The housekeeper is expecting you.” But before she could turn, he placed a hand on her shoulder and pressed a finger under her chin to lift her gaze to his. “I’m proud of you, Ivy.” He skimmed his lips over hers, once, twice, a third time, somehow managing not to deepen it. “Now go.”

  August glanced around at the sound of voices not far from them and gave her a little push of encouragement. She nodded, that succulent lip tucked under her teeth, and hurried into the rear entrance.

  He made his way to the front of the house and to the receiving line, pausing to speak with the duke and accept some compliments about the success of the tunnel. The ballroom glistened with splendour. In fact, everything glistened. It made him wince. From the chandeliers to the gleaming mirrors to the gold-framed pictures. Underfoot the tiles shined so brightly, he feared he would be able to see up every lady’s skirt tonight.

  Though he passed the evening by dancing with many of the ladies there and found himself embroiled in several lively discussions of politics, his mind refused to stray from one thing. Or more accurately, one person. His stomach had wound itself in knots and was refusing to unravel no matter what he did to try to forget she’d be performing shortly.

  And if all went well, she would leave him. Perhaps he ought to pay more attention to the women at the gathering and truly pay homage to the idea of finding a wife.

  Soon enough, the time came for her performance. The duke did a fine job of introducing her as this wonderful, undiscovered talent. The ladies’ eyes gleamed with anticipation and when Ivy entered the room and took her position at the front, August noted more than a few gentlemen’s expressions lit up. He wanted to tear every single interested smile from their faces.

  Ivy offered her thanks to the duke and turned her gaze to the audience. She seemed calm. No sign of nerves yet. Inwardly, he willed her on. She could do it. Come on, Ivy.

  The first piano chords struck up and he waited for her rich voice to fill the room. Except it didn’t. His palms grew clammy and he tried to get her to meet his gaze but he was too far back and it was likely she couldn’t see him. August pushed past the crowd, whose murmurs were slowly filling the huge ballroom. He slipped around the side and tried to get her attention.

  “Come on, Ivy,” he murmured under his breath.

  From where he was, he saw the panic filling her gaze. The piano player stopped and started again. Her breasts moved rapidly against her gown and she swayed slightly. Panic surged through him and he forced aside a rotund gentleman and then a gaggle of ladies and several other gentlemen until he was nearly at her side. She swayed again and the piano music came to an abrupt halt as she folded to one side.

  He caught her as she went down, her head only inches from the floor. His heart beat a sick tattoo in his chest. August bundled her against his chest and pushed his way through the crowds. A few cries from overwrought women made his lips curl in annoyance. His only interest was getting Ivy out of here and safe.

  He carved a path through the crowd, snapping at a few who were slow to move until he spilled out of the front door and down the steps. It took him mere moments to get her bundled into the carriage. He barked his address at the driver and settled her across his lap.

  Lifting her chin, he noted the bluish tinge to her lips. She was breathing but her breaths were fast and panicked. Her eyes were at half-mast and she struggled to murmur something to him.

  He shushed her and silently urged the driver to move faster. Once they reached the house, he’d tear that dress from her and get her laid down. Thankfully the streets were clear and it didn’t take long.

  As soon as he’d paid the driver, he hauled her out of the carriage and carried her up the stairs to the front door. Within minutes, he had her in his bedroom and began tearing at the tiny hooks on the back of her gown.

  He didn’t get far. She pushed him away and drew in a ragged breath as she slumped against the bed. Tears spilled down her cheeks and they tore at his chest. He lay beside her and tried to slip his hands around her back to begin undoing her gown again but she was having none of it.

  “No, August,” she said between gasps.

  “You swooned. You’re struggling to breathe.”

  “I’m-I’m fine.” She tried to curl up but he didn’t let her. He smoothed back her hair from her face and noted her lips no longer had that awful colour but that her chest still rose and fell heavily. “I’m j-just crying.” A sob bubbled out of her mouth and he fought the urge to smile softly.

  Even crying, she was beautiful, and he couldn’t help be relieved she wasn’t about to swoon on him again.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  August studied her tear-stained cheeks and looked into her glossy brown eyes. “Why are you sorry?”

  “I let you down. I made a fool of you.”

  “You did no such thing.”

  “I’m so sorry, August. I was meant to make your life easier but instead I’ve complicated it.”

  He skimmed away an escaping tear with his thumb and rested his palm against her damp cheek. “Whatever do you mean, you daft girl?”

  “I have been pressuring you, throwing myself at you. You must think me so w-w-wanton. I knew you did not want me but still I tried.”

  She drew in a long, unladylike sniffle and turned her head away from him. He clasped her chin and turned her to face him. “I always wanted you,” he said forcefully. “Always. Don’t ever say that. You’ve done wonders with Elsie and, in truth, you have done a lot for me.”

  “I suppose I shall have to give up on singing,” she said with a sigh.

  “You shall not,” August said vehemently, lifting her chin so she had no choice but to look up at his handsome features.

  “Ivy, you’ll sing in front of an audience. You must. A voice like yours has to be shared.”

  “But we tried. I do not know what else to do now.”

  “Practice, my sweets. We will keep on practicing.”

  “I feel just fine when you are there by my side or watching me but when I stood in front of that crowd, I could not see you, and I was so lost.”

  He nodded. “I could tell. Perhaps then, we shall have to make sure you can always see me. But let us start small. I was a fool to push you into such a performance.”

  “Not at all. You believed in me, August. No one else ever has.”

  “I’ll always believe in you.”

  Lips parted, her gaze searched his. Somewhere deep down, a long pang of desire and something more started up. He was falling—over the edge and completely lost. She’d finally done it. Broken him, pushed him. There was no going back now and he didn’t even care.

  He brought his lips down to hers and tasted salt. Then he slipped his tongue into her mouth and it was pure Ivy. Utter decadence. If there was anything that tasted better than Ivy, he’d never had it.<
br />
  August drew back briefly to run his gaze over her features. While he studied the still damp curve of her cheek and her spiked eyelashes, he waited for the usual heavy weight of guilt. But nothing came. Only raw, fiery need pulsed through his veins. That, and a burgeoning sense of protectiveness. An almost primal need to claim her and shield her from all the hurts in the world.

  Not that Ivy would let him. She was no wilting flower. She belonged in the limelight, and he would have to help her achieve that. His heart began to pound with greater intensity as he noted the pure trust in her gaze. One might call her naive, but there was something more to Ivy’s artlessness. It was not simply blind trust that drove her on but an ability to see good in places where others could not. It was how she had survived so long on her own, he suspected.

  And she saw something in him, whatever that was. She twined her fingers into his hair, urging him down upon her. He stole one last glance at her exquisite features before sealing his mouth across hers again. By all rights he should feel worn, jaded, even old perhaps, after looking upon her youthful face with her wide, trusting eyes, but instead he felt renewed, refreshed, as though she fed into him.

  Any further foolish thoughts that might have him checking himself into the nearest asylum were dampened by the press of her breasts again his chest. She rubbed herself eagerly against him. He imagined her tight nipples straining against her corset, pictured closing his mouth about them.

  Silk crinkled beneath him as she worked on hooking a leg over him. Were it not for all her petticoats, he would be able to feel the sweet warmth of her through the fabric of his trousers. That thought urged his hand to her thigh and up over her stocking to feel the small expanse of smooth skin hidden under all those layers.

  And there he touched her, as no other man had. That primitive heat rose in his chest again. No one else had received this honour, only him. No other man had dug his fingers into the flesh of her thighs and heard her gasp.

  “Want you,” he said, trailing his lips down her neck. “So badly.”

  “Want you too. August, I... I ache for you.”

  Bloody hell, how her words made his blood boil. He pushed her skirts higher and eased himself between her legs only to remember this was Ivy—not some courtesan or experienced widow. The slightest jolt of guilt hit him but was swiftly smothered when she hooked her arms around his hips. She might not be experienced but she was doing a damn good job of seeming it. Ivy rocked up into him and his vision went a little white. A feral groan escaped him.

  Nevertheless, he would retain enough control to do it properly. She needed him, wanted him and, Goddamn it, he couldn’t hold off any longer. He couldn’t let her go unfulfilled nor push her away and have her thinking he did not ache for her every moment they were together.

  And even when they were apart really. She was like a sunbeam of light into his life. He wanted to lose himself in her and experience the pure radiance that was Ivy up close.

  “Let me up, Ivy,” he said against the column of her throat.

  “No.” She gripped his neck tighter. “You’ll leave me.”

  “Never.”

  The word came out more vehemently than he meant it to and he couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. She would leave him eventually, but would he ever leave her? He had strong suspicions that if she let him, he’d keep her forever.

  Her legs unhooked slowly from around him and he drew back to gaze down at her. “I want to take you, Ivy. Lord help me, I can’t resist you any longer. You understand what this means for you?”

  “Yes.” She reached for him but he didn’t allow her to pull him back down. With the slight distance between them he had an almost tangible hold on his senses. “August, please.”

  August pressed back her chocolate hair from her face and looked into her eyes to search for doubt. There was none. And knowing Ivy, she wouldn’t regret this. He might, but she never would. She didn’t waste time on regret or doubt, whereas he wasted too much.

  Decision made, he drew her up to sitting with his hands on her shoulders and urged her around on the bed. He found the laces of the gown and set to work on them.

  “Bugger it,” he cursed as the complicated ties confounded him. His clumsy rough fingers caught on the silk and reminded him of the differences between them. Age, upbringing, character. Hell, even some noble blood ran through her veins. He might be wealthy but he didn’t have a drop of noble blood in him.

  But when he managed to push the purple silk from her back and caught sight of the lacing of her corset—the cream, textured fabric providing a stark contrast against her dusky skin—only a pounding need thrummed through his mind.

  August eased the top of the gown down to her waist then set to work on the corset. More curse words abound, he freed her from the contraption and drew it away, leaving her only in her undergarments. She stood then to remove the rest and August forgot to breathe. Forgot to do anything apart from sit and gape as a wave of uncertainty came across her face.

  “August?” A hand lingered on the low-cut strap of her chemise and he stared at the hand for many moments, willing it to move. Come on, just a little lower. Two silly little straps gone and then he’d have a view of her perfect breasts.

  He swallowed and dragged his gaze back to hers as he realised she was waiting for a response. “Yes?”

  “Am I doing something wrong?”

  “Wrong?”

  “Why are you staring?”

  “Trust me, Ivy, you’re doing nothing wrong.” Was that his voice? It sounded so low and dark and gritty, as though he had swallowed coal dust. “You are doing everything so very, very right. Now push down those straps.”

  Her eyes widened briefly but he couldn’t bring himself to care if he’d shocked her. He kept his gaze on those gently vibrating swells of flesh, just waiting to be unleashed. Then she placed one delicate finger under the first strap and slid it down. He watched, transfixed. His heart thrashed in his chest.

  When it was resting just above her elbow, she lifted her other hand to the second strap. He clenched his teeth and the crack reverberated through his head. Damn minx was toying with him. And, God help him, he enjoyed every moment of sweet torture. He had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting at her though. Do it, he wanted to say. Reveal yourself to me. He hadn’t been this eager to see a naked woman since he was a young man.

  But apparently he was a sap for torture as he relished each tiny movement of her fingers. Then the strap was down and the tight fabric of her chemise hung about her breasts. He let out a long hiss of air through his teeth and gripped the bedding beside him.

  Dark curls spilling over her bare shoulders and with one nearly covering one eye, she cocked her head to one side, a tiny smile teasing her lips. Then she allowed a finger to skim across the tops of her breasts along the line of the fabric.

  That was it. He couldn’t do it any longer. In one swift movement he was on his feet and standing in front of her. In another, he had her in his arms and was kissing her like a man possessed.

  Hooking his fingers over the top of her undergarments, he pulled them down with a flourish. August didn’t even take the time to admire her. He needed more first. Both hands to the waist of her drawers, he had them down and pooling around her feet with her dress and petticoats within moments.

  Ivy gasped and her hands came about herself—an attempt to shield herself from his gaze. He pried her hands away from her and looked his fill.

  “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

  He took in those full breasts with their tight dark nipples, down to her waist which was beautifully indented and curved but soft. Her hips were generous and begged for his hands. White stockings elongated her legs and seemed to draw his attention directly to the most intimate part of her.

  “Bloody hell,” he breathed.

  Dropping to his knees, he began to peel down her stockings. He took the time to skim his fingers over the sensitive skin at the back of her knee. Her thighs trembled and the scen
t of arousal imbued the air. Christ, if he had realised quite what she was hiding beneath those garish gowns, he wasn’t sure he would have held out for so long.

  August pushed aside all her garments and removed her stockings completely. Now she was bare to him. She trembled all over, perhaps in apprehension but he knew he’d banish that soon enough. He just had to take one long look and perhaps a taste.

  Hands to her rear, he groaned and was gratified to hear a moan from her in response. He let his breath whisper over the dark curls at the apex of her thighs.

  “August...” His name was but a tremulous sound from her lips.

  Before she could offer any protest, he laved his tongue over her folds, tasting her on his tongue. It was all he could do not to explode then and there. Her hands came to his head, unsure at first, then when he repeated the movement, her fingers gripped his hair. He pressed deeper, harder, searching for that tight nub that would bring her exquisite pleasure. When he found his treasure and nibbled, her legs quaked and she tugged sharply on his hair.

  She could rip his hair out by the roots and leave him completely bald for all he cared. He would not relinquish his prize. Keeping his grip firm on her, he licked, nibbled and kissed until her sweet noises grew into great cries. He only hoped Mrs Cartwright mistook them for Elsie’s cries.

  The grip on his hair tightened further and her knees near buckled when her orgasm overtook her. He tasted it and felt it ripple through her body. Fearing she might collapse, he came quickly to his feet and gripped her to him. She panted against his neck, her body still quaking with the after-effects.

  “Oh, August...”

  He scooped her up quickly and laid her out on the bed. She remained languid, a tiny smile on her lips. Hands relaxed at either side of her head, her hair had almost come completely out of its pins and ribbons and dark curls surrounded her like a wild halo. Even with her dark skin colour, he saw a flush high on her cheeks and the top of her lip sheened slightly. He didn’t think he could get any harder.