Brent, knowing he’d be lucky if Lillian ever spoke to him again after this fiasco, mouthed an apology. Thankfully, she smiled and laid her open palm on his cheek. Christ he loved her. That thought caught him by surprise, and his face no doubt showed his shock, as she raised a brow in silent question. Turning his mouth to nuzzle her palm and give the centre a tiny lick, he gave her a reassuring smile before pasting a neutral expression on his face and dropping his forehead to rest on hers. He was in love with Lady Lillian Armstrong and probably had been for quite some time, though he’d been too absorbed with his growing daughter, and too pig-headed about maintaining their seclusion, that he’d ignored everything else, including why he’d been as excited as a child at Christmas when he anticipated one of Lillian’s visits, and why he’d been so wretched after she left.
Uncaring of the antics outside their door, he pulled Lillian into his arms and kissed her the way a man in love kisses his darling. After a momentary hesitation, Lillian’s hands slid around his neck and she lifted on her toes to prolong their kisses, slow slides of their mating lips followed by a litany of hungry open-mouthed joinings. Predictably, his erection rose again and prodded her belly, despite his willing it into subsidence. Having her feminine curves molded to his leaner length was incredibly erotic, though he silently cursed himself for starting something he couldn’t finish in a wardrobe. When Lillian tilted her hips and rubbed against his erection, his knees almost gave way and his mind grappled for ways he could make love to her in a cupboard. The paneling might collapse and the cupboard would certainly rock on its legs if he took her against a wall, but the ache in his cock was getting harder and harder to ignore and soon he’d be tempted to throw open the door and find another room and damn the consequences.
For himself, he was past caring if he was seen at a courtesan’s ball, even stark naked, but he’d never risk Lillian’s reputation. The only garment within reach was a silk robe covered in pink and purple cabbage roses and with a frilled neckline but, deciding that beggars couldn’t be choosy, he shoved his arms into the sleeves and tied the belt at his waist. Lillian was so amused that she clamped two hands over her mouth to stop giggles from escaping, but he gave a what-else-can-I-do shrug and pretended his masculinity remained intact, despite the feminine gilding. Thankfully, Lillian seemed composed, which was in direct contrast to his own distress, emotional and physical, at not managing their time together better.
Counting backwards from a hundred usually calmed him and had taken the edge of the anger and frustration he’d suffered during the last months of his marriage, so he closed his eyes and focused on counting.
One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven—
‘Bloody hell,’ Brent yelled.
Lillian had wrapped a hand around his cock, while massaging his balls with her other hand. The wardrobe’s door flew open and four faces peered inside.
CHAPTER FOUR
LILLIAN SCREAMED. Brent pushed her firmly behind him and she burrowed behind his broad back and pulled the scarf across her face.
He addressed the occupants of the room as if it was an every day occurrence to hide in a cupboard at an orgy. ‘Hello Browning, and Browning’s guests,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Having a nice foursome?’
Before Lillian had dipped her head, she’d glimpsed the faces of their four onlookers. Faces that showed emotions ranging from utter amusement from their host, Browning, curiosity from his male cohort, and easy acceptance from the two half-naked prostitutes. Perhaps for them cupboard sex was normal. The thought made her giggle again and she tried to poke her head out from behind Brent’s silk clad bottom to see what Browning would do with them, but Brent reached behind him and pushed her head down again.
‘Glad you’re enjoying yourself, Mallory.’ Browning’s amusement sounded in his voice, and she sensed that he was attempting to shift Brent aside so he could get a look at her face. ‘Didn’t think naked romps were your cup of tea these days, old boy.’ Brent placed a hand on either side of the doorway and planted his feet so their discoverers couldn’t push past him. ‘Heard you’d become a recluse, Mallory.’
She felt Brent give one of his shrugs, but knew he was faking his careless attitude for her sake. Her neighbor was an extraordinary man and a true gentleman, one of the very few titled men who followed the old rules of honor and the protection of women. Somehow though, he had to save him from any more embarrassment as his mother would double her efforts to see him wed if she heard that Brent had attended an event whose primary purpose was the securing of mistresses. The poor man didn’t deserve to suffer for her impulsive actions. If she’d stayed at home and pretended to mourn her repulsive husband, Brent wouldn’t have been caught wearing women’s clothing.
As if he’d read her mind, Browning said, ‘Love that robe, Mallory. The pink roses match the blush on your cheeks perfectly.’
‘Stifle it, Browning, and get out of here so my companion and I can redress and leave.’
‘Oh, I don’t think we’ll let you off that easily, will we?’
Lillian heard his companions murmur and chuckle and wondered what Browning had in mind. Whatever he planned, she and Brent were sure to be the focus of his jokes.