Twenty
He hadn’t meant to come here, but when he realized the route he’d taken, it was too late to change.
Lady Chesterfield’s home loomed just ahead, and the temptation of seeing Miss Ramsey was much too difficult to ignore.
Berating himself with every step, he continued toward the home. He’d simply glance through the windows and ascertain if she’d returned in good health. Then he’d be about his business, with her none the wiser.
He dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby lamp-post. It snorted and tossed its head as if to tell Avery how foolish he appeared.
“I know, lad,” Avery said in a low voice as he patted the horse’s neck. “I’ll return in but a moment.”
The afternoon shadows were growing longer, and Avery moved carefully to avoid being seen. This time of day was not the most active for the servants of the household, but there was sure to be someone about.
Each window he peered into revealed nothing more than empty furniture and the odd maid or footman.
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window on the west side of the house. It was apparently the drawing room, and Lady Chesterfield sat alone, having tea as she wrote at a small table beside the settee.
Why was Miss Ramsey not there? His tension grew.
Surely she’d returned from her ride with the duke by now. Had one of Prachett’s men accosted her?
He crept around the back of the house, careful to give the servant’s entrance a wide berth. A small garden lay before him, its plantings beginning to burgeon with life.
He’d just risen to look through another window when a sound caught his ear.
“Pawpaw, what am I supposed to do?”
He whirled without a sound, kneeling behind a holly bush. He was careful of the leaves this time. Leaning to the side, he found the source of the voice.
Leah was there, her back to him as she sat on an old stump. Her attention was focused on something in her lap.
Relief flooded him. She was here, and she was alone.
He’d remain a moment longer until he could verify her well-being, then he’d take his leave without her knowledge. He hoped.
“Maybe Mrs. Knightsbridge was wrong about all this.”
She sighed, tilting her head skyward. A yellow curl kissed her cheek as it swayed with her movement. His breath caught as she was silhouetted in the sun’s dying glow.
Had there ever been a woman so lovely, so perfect?
Without conscious thought, he was suddenly moving toward her, abandoning his hiding place. The inner voice that had kept him from seeking out her touch was silenced as if it had never existed. He only knew that he had to kiss her, and kiss her now, before she was lost to him forever.
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The sound of his footsteps on the path grabbed her attention, and she looked up, surprise on her face. Her beautiful blue eyes were confused— and then excited.
“Avery,” she said, rising and turning to him. A small portrait was gripped in her hand, and he caught a glimpse of an old man with Leah’s eyes standing by a strange carriage. She must have been speaking to the portrait.
“Leah,” he breathed, and without another thought he pulled her into his arms. Stiffening with surprise, she froze at first, but then melted into him, her softness against his hardness fitting perfectly. Her soft lips parted on a breath, and he drew her in, deep into his lungs.
His tongue traced the soft edge of her lower lip, and he groaned deep in his chest at the sweet taste of her.
His body stirred, his hands roaming the planes of her back, then lower to cup her buttocks. Blood surged to his groin as she returned his kisses, sucking on his tongue and tangling her fingers in his hair. He pressed his hips into hers.
She writhed, as if she couldn’t get close enough. His hand caressed up the curve of her waist to settle just beneath one of her breasts, its hardened nipple practically begging to be touched.
Leah erased any moment of doubt, pressing his hand against her breast. He released her mouth, but only to let his kisses trail down the column of her throat. She tilted her head back in abandon.
“Avery,” she whispered, hitching a leg over his hip.
God, her core pressed against his erection now, so hot it almost burned. “I want you.”
The words were exactly what he wanted— no,
needed— to hear.
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He nipped at the tender flesh of her neck, wanting to mark her, claim her like an animal would. Her mewl of passion only spurred him on. Dipping his head, he trailed kisses down the delicate curve of her shoulder, to the neckline of her lovely blue gown.