All's Fair in Love and Seduction

Chapter Two

Elizabeth spun around so quickly she lost her footing and stumbled headlong—well actually breast-first if she was striving for accuracy—into the hard wall of a male chest. Large hands shot out to steady her, his hold firm yet gentle on her arms. Elizabeth snatched her hands away from his chest and took a hasty step back.

Surely, fate would not be so cruel…? She peered up and encountered the arresting blue-green eyes of Lord Creswell.

Fate had a most unfortunate sense of humor.

“My lord, you frightened me.” Surprise may have caused her to stumble but it was the man who left her breathless.

And it wasn’t just his masculine beauty; she’d like to think she wasn’t that shallow. No, it was more than that. He had an aura of confidence about him—some might say arrogance—that drew women with the same pull the sun exerted on the Earth.

“I’m sorry. Please accept my apologies,” he said, all politesse and unimpeachable decorum. But his hooded gaze and the way his mouth twitched at the corners told her he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry a’tall.

Elizabeth had no doubt the viscount knew it was he she’d been searching for. He’d heard her. Heat flooded her face. She could only imagine what he thought of her.

Her mother had also warned that her impetuous nature would one day land her in a heap of trouble. Trouble of this sort must follow the viscount about like a starving mongrel in search of table scraps.

Truly, if she had a mite bit of sense where he was concerned, she would return inside now that her curiosity had been quenched. She’d seen him, spoken to him, touched him even; that should be enough. And if she were lucky, he’d never discover she was a member of the same Smith family his father had paid one thousand pounds to quiet her parents’ cries for his brother to redress her sister's honor.

“I-I didn’t expect to find anyone out here.” Elizabeth nearly groaned in dismay at such an obvious lie. At affairs such as this, gardens weren’t merely a floral feast for the eyes but also provided a haven for lovers seeking privacy from the crush, and tall and dense foliage proved the perfect shield to share a kiss and other such intimacies.

Lord Creswell continued to study her with slumberous eyes. Silence dragged along at a tortuous pace and with every second that ticked by, Elizabeth’s discomfort climbed. She wished he would say something.

Finally, he smiled a slow devilish grin, his gaze drifting from her face to her neckline before dipping lower. He paused there, lingering long enough to offend—if a woman would be offended by the lustful stare of a handsome man. Slowly, he lifted his regard back to hers. “And I hoped you were looking for me.”

A wave of arousal, the likes of which Elizabeth had never known, washed over her. She went from warm to burning hot in the span of seconds.

“I came out for some air.” Her voice was breathy and uneven.

Liar. The silent rejoinder was brutally swift and damning.

The word remained unspoken but was there in his too knowing eyes and the soft laugh that rumbled from his throat.

“How utterly remarkable as I too came out for…air. I think it would be prudent if we took air together. Would that please you, Miss Smith?” He advanced a step. He now stood close enough for her to make out dark stubble beginning to shadow his jaw. His shoulders blocked the gaslight illuminating the terrace.

Did he truly believe she would take air with a man she’d only just met?

But of course he did, and she could hardly blame him given her actions. There were names for women like that.

Elizabeth Ann Smith?

No, despite what he thought or how it might appear, she was not that type of woman even if the temptation to throw off the rigid strictures of society acted upon her like a virulent disease.

Elizabeth affected an airy sophisticated laugh, attempting to hide what she prayed wasn't too obvious; that she was unaccustomed to the kind of flirtatious banter he no doubt excelled at. “My lord, we are taking air together.”

“No, not yet but I’m sure we will soon.” This time his tone did not tease. His expression sobered as he eyed her mouth with more than avid interest.

Elizabeth felt as if a fire had been ignited inside her. However, the other part of her, the daughter of Richard Smith with his rigid moral code and God-fearing ways felt compelled to say something. Indeed, something that would convey a bit of umbrage at his cheek. A young lady in her position would not be aroused by such provocation. In fact, she would be quite outraged. They were strangers after all.

“My lord,” she began, “I really must take—”

“Derek. Lord Derek Creswell. But then I’m certain you know precisely who I am. And I would like to know you, Miss Elizabeth Smith.” The velvet smoothness of his voice strummed her senses like the premier virtuoso of seduction.

Elizabeth’s mouth snapped closed.

He knew her name. More importantly, he had inquired about her.

Swallowing was made all the more difficult with the complete obstruction of her throat. Her heart began to beat double time.

He watched her as if he liked nothing better than to have his wicked way with her. Her nipples peaked and the place between her thighs grew moist in her own wicked response. But no matter how tempting the offer in his eyes, she could not encourage him. A union between them was impossible.

A small step backward began her retreat as her mind strived for clarity, focus and sound reason. She could not permit this.

“You came here looking for me.”

His statement stopped her in her tracks and her mouth opened to launch a reflexive denial. A blatant lie.

He countered by taking several steps forward, forcing her behind the towering hedgerow lest he run her over with his powerful body. He stood inches from her. Her eyes were level with the top silver button of his waistcoat. They were now out of sight should any of the guests venture onto the terrace. Elizabeth tipped her head back to look into his face.

“Miss Smith, let us be honest with each other, shall we?” How he managed to coax and command in the same breath, she didn’t know but his tone did both. “I have watched you…watch me…for many weeks now. You want this as much as I do.” His silky voice not for the weak or faint of heart. Ladies who easily succumbed to the vapors would have been a puddle at his feet by now.

Mesmerized, Elizabeth stood mute, inhaling his musky scent and fighting the weakness stealing over her limbs and making sawdust of her will.

His head began a slow descent giving her time enough to halt the whole thing before it went too far. “Would you like me to kiss you, Miss Smith?” He spoke softly and his voice lulled.

And for a moment she was lulled into believing that she had some control in this situation. That he had given that back to her.

“I-I do not make it a habit of kissing gentlemen I do not know—I mean a’tall.” She didn’t exactly push him way. She said precisely what a young lady of her rank ought to say but felt no satisfaction in it. Instead, it left her deprived, denied and wanting.

He chuckled softly. “Well there must be a first time for everything.”

The viscount possessed a sensual allure so powerful and intoxicating it rendered her willing and eager to experience everything he offered. She leaned in, pure need driving her. But before the distance between their mouths could be bridged, he halted and pulled slightly back. “I will not take what you will not give freely. What do you want? You only have to tell me,” he coaxed, his breath mingling with hers.

Elizabeth blinked several times before his handsome face came into focus.

Devil take him!

They had been doing perfectly well on the course he had set. Now, fully aware of the folly about to take place, she had no choice but to refuse him.

As if he sensed the turmoil roiling within her, he slid his hands around her waist, strong and possessive, so very familiar as if they hadn’t spoken for the first time just that evening. “Will you deny us both?” With his words, the roughness of his voice and his proximity, her battered resistance collapsed in total defeat. She wanted this just as much if not more than he did; had wanted him in some fashion since she’d first laid eyes on him.

She shook her head and before she could take another wispy breath, his mouth was on hers, claiming her wholly.

Derek Creswell may be a lord by birth and a gentleman in appearances and comportment but his kiss told her there was nothing remotely proper about him. He was carnality at its most sinful.

This was no soft and tentative kiss of new lovers but one so sensual and hot, it reverberated through her right down to the soles of her feet. His tongue traced the softness of her lower lip before plunging inside to coax hers into a delicious love play.

Plowing her fingers through the thick vibrancy of his hair, Elizabeth twined her hands around his neck, and tipped her head back wanting nothing else but to submit and feed the hunger pulsing inside her. Her tongue worried his full bottom lip. A groan of pleasure rumbled from his chest as he took the kiss deeper, drugging her into mindlessness.

He pulled her closer at the same time she pressed for more contact. The hard thrust of his erection prodded heavily against her belly. A rush of moisture pooled between her thighs. Elizabeth briefly broke the kiss and let out a ragged moan. Clutching her backside firmly in his hands, Lord Creswell angled her hips so he could fit his erection where she was wet for him, ached to be filled by him. Pleasure stole her next breath and she gasped, wanting only to push against him without the encumbrance of skirts, petticoats and stays.

The click of a door was the same as spraying cold water on two particularly amorous dogs. They sprang apart, Elizabeth wrenching herself from the warmth of his arms, her breath coming in short halting pants, her body still thrumming with unquenched desire.

A young girl’s tittered laughter filled the air. She was quickly hushed by a male voice and then all went silent but for the click of footsteps on the flagstone, until even that was no more. Fear of discovery made Elizabeth unwilling to chance a glance around their leafy shelter to ensure they were alone. Instead, she peered up at the viscount.

Except for the slight ruffling of his hair where her fingers had played, Lord Creswell did not appear all that affected by the kiss. But a look down revealed his erection straining against his black trousers.

She’d felt that pressed against her but the visual evidence of his arousal heightened her own.

“I should not have permitted you to kiss me like that.”

“Then how should you have permitted me to kiss you?” he asked smiling. “Or perhaps the better question would be where.” His gaze dropped suggestively to her breasts and then drifted lower. And lower still.

Dear Lord, he can’t mean he would ever put his mouth there. The thought should have repulsed her but the heaviness at her center returned anew, growing slick under his heavy-lidded gaze.

“I didn’t mean for you to kiss me a’tall,” she said, her face fiery hot with embarrassment. What she spoke was the truth. She hadn’t followed him out here to encourage much less participate in him taking such liberties. She’d wanted to meet him face-to-face and finally satisfy the curiosity about him she had harbored for six long years.

“Is that so? Well, I look forward to our next…meeting.” He spoke softly and smiled almost gently, as if he was privy to something she was not.

Perhaps thoughts of all the things he wanted—intended to do with her.

Her faced burned. “I should go back. Missy must be wondering where I’ve got to.” She hesitated, waiting but unsure of what. Certainly not to see if he’d try to convince her to remain where they could share more of those mind-drugging kisses. Her wanton response spoke for itself.

“I will not keep you then.” He sketched a bow.

It was for the best.

“It probably would not be wise if we returned together. I will use the entrance on the side. Rutherford keeps that door open for these affairs. If you like, I shall go first.” He lifted his brow in question, now all gallantry and polished composure.

Elizabeth agreed with a little nod and watched as he disappeared, silent and sure-footed, into the moonless night. When she heard the last of his retreat, she turned on her heel, dashed a quick glance around before making her way toward the French doors.

And then another voice emerged from the dark. “Why, Miss Smith, what a surprise.”