A Regency Lady's Scandal: The Lady Gambles / The Lady Forfeits. Carole Mortimer

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СКАЧАТЬ ‘Do you like this?’ He swept his thumb lightly over that pouting nipple.

      ‘Yes!’ she gasped, shuddering with pleasure.

      ‘This?’ He brought his mouth down to her breast once more, even as he allowed his hand to fall to her ankle and push her gown aside and began a slow caress to her knee.

      ‘Oh, yes!’

      ‘And this?’ Dominic ran his tongue repeatedly over that swollen nipple even as his hand caressed higher still to weave a pattern of seduction along her inner thigh, the heat of her through her drawers, her dampness, telling him of her arousal.

      Nothing in Caro’s life had prepared her to be touched with such intimacy. How could it, when she had never realised that such intimacies existed? Such achingly pleasurable intimacies that she wished would never end.

      ‘I would like you to touch me in the same way, Caro,’ Dominic encouraged gruffly.

      She swallowed hard. ‘I—’ She broke off her instinctive protest as someone rattled the door handle in an effort to open the locked door.

      ‘My lord?’ Drew Butler sounded both disapproving and concerned at this inability to enter his own office.

      Dominic turned his head sharply towards the door. ‘What is it?’

      ‘I need to speak with you immediately, my lord.’ The other man sounded just as irritated as Dominic.

      He scowled his displeasure as Caro took advantage of his distraction to extricate herself from his arms before turning away to begin fastening the buttons of her gown with fingers that were shaking so badly it took her twice as long as it should have done. What had she been thinking? Worse, how much further would she have allowed these intimacies to go if not for Drew’s timely intervention?

      ‘Caro—’

      ‘Mr Butler requires your attention, my lord, not I!’ Caro protested, her cheeks aflame.

      Dominic’s gaze narrowed in concern on her flushed and disconcerted face, knowing, and regretting, being the obvious cause of her discomfort. He had not meant things to go so far as they had. As for demonstrating to Caro how ill equipped she was to withstand the advances of the gentlemen of the ton, Dominic knew full well that he had been the one seriously in danger of overstepping that line! ‘Caro—’

      ‘Mr Butler requires you, my lord,’ she reminded him.

      Dominic stood up impatiently to stride over to the door and unlock it, his expression darkening as the other man’s gaze instantly slid past him to where Caro stood with her back towards the door. Dominic deliberately stepped into the other man’s line of vision. ‘Yes?’

      Speculative blue eyes gazed back at him. ‘There is … something in the main salon I believe you should see.’

      Dominic frowned. ‘Can it not wait?’

      ‘No, my lord, it cannot,’ Drew stated flatly.

      ‘Very well.’ He nodded before turning to speak to Caro. ‘It appears that I have to leave you for a few minutes. If you will be so kind as to wait here for me—’

      ‘No.’

      Dominic’s eyes widened. ‘No?’

      ‘No.’ Caro rallied, still embarrassed by the intimacies she had allowed this man, but determined not to allow that embarrassment to render her helpless. She carefully lifted her cloak and bonnet from the chair she had placed them on earlier. ‘Mr Butler, is Ben available to escort me home now?’

      ‘Yes, he is.’

      ‘I would prefer that you wait for me here, Caro,’ Dominic insisted firmly.

      She met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘And I would prefer that Ben be the one to accompany me to my lodgings.’

      A nerve pulsed beside that savage slash of a scar on Dominic’s left cheek. ‘Why?’

      Caro looked away as she found she could not withstand the probing of that narrowed silver gaze. ‘I would simply prefer his company at this time, my lord.’

      ‘Drew, could you wait outside for a moment, please?’ Dominic did not even wait for the man’s compliance before stepping back into the room and firmly closing the door behind him.

      ‘I have nothing more to say to you, my lord—’

      ‘Dominic.’

      Caro gasped. ‘I beg your pardon?’

      The earl gave a graceful shrug. ‘You did not seem to have any difficulty calling me Dominic a few minutes ago,’ he reminded her wickedly.

      Caro’s cheeks burned with mortification as she recalled the most recent circumstances under which she had called this man by his first name. ‘I do not even wish to think about just now—’

      ‘Do not be so melodramatic,’ Dominic interjected. ‘Or perhaps, on consideration, it is the hideousness of my scars you would rather not dwell upon?’ His voice hardened even as he raised a hand to his scarred cheek.

      ‘I trust I am not so lily-livered, my lord,’ Caro protested indignantly. ‘No doubt you obtained that scar during the wars against Napoleon?’

      ‘Yes.’

      She nodded. ‘Then it would be most ungrateful of me—of any woman—to see your scar as anything less than the result of the act of bravery it undoubtedly was.’

      Dominic was well aware that some women found the scar on his face unsightly, even frightening. He should have known that the feisty Caro was made of sterner stuff. ‘I will endeavour to conclude my business with Butler as quickly as is possible, after which I will be free to escort you home. No, please do not argue with me any further tonight,’ he advised wearily as he saw that familiar light of rebellion enter those sea-green eyes.

      ‘You are altogether too fond of having your own way, sir.’ She frowned her disapproval at him.

      And his efforts to frighten this young woman into leaving London had only succeeded in alarming himself, Dominic recognised frustratedly. ‘And if I once again add the word please?’

      ‘Well?’ she prompted tartly as he added nothing further.

      Dominic found himself openly smiling at her waspishness. ‘Please, Caro, will you wait here for me?’ he said drily.

      Her chin remained proudly high. ‘I will consider the idea whilst you are talking to Mr Butler.’

      Dominic shot her one last exasperated glance before striding purposefully from the room. He forgot everything else, however—kissing and touching Caro, her response to those kisses and caresses, his own lack of control over that situation—the moment he entered the main salon of the club and saw a bloodstained and obviously badly beaten Nathaniel Thorne lying recumbent upon one of the couches there …

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