Page 122 of The Earl's Bluestocking Bride
Yes, it had ended up being convenient in terms of attempting to combat the rumors, but she’d still never have planned a ball without encouragement from Mrs. Hart and Andrew.
Amelia turned to the duke. “Thank you for standing by me, Your Grace.”
He bowed. “I will happily be your second whenever the role requires filling.” His lips twitched. “Although I’d rather we avoid any duels. My wife would have my head if I were injured.”
She laughed. “I don’t intend on challenging Miss Giles to pistols at dawn, so I think you’re safe on that front.”
“We will bid you adieu,” Andrew said. “Ashford, I knowhow much you dislike these affairs. Please don’t feel any need to linger on our account. We very much appreciate you making the effort to be here.”
The duke inclined his head, and from his expression, she didn’t think it would be long before he excused himself.
Andrew escorted Amelia back to the entrance. This time, fewer people paid them attention, although they did have to avoid a few wandering hands as guests tried to stop them for a quick word.
When they stood in the doorway, Andrew took Amelia by the hips and pulled her close. Her breath caught, and the back of her neck prickled with awareness. No one ever behaved so intimately in the public setting of a ball.
“May I?” he asked, curving his hand around between her shoulder blades and tipping her backward.
“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes locked on his.
He kissed her.
Right there, in front of everyone.
Their lips parted, and he swallowed up her gasp and deepened the kiss. His tongue swept along hers.
How perfectly scandalous.
Someone whistled, and they broke apart. Her cheeks were burning, and she knew she must be bright red, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret the kiss. Now all of these people knew he desired her. They would see that the Earl and Countess of Longley were married and very much in love.
It was heady.
Her mind was in a daze as Andrew led her out of the ballroom and into the corridor. He started to guide her toward the staircase, but a wicked idea occurred to her, and she stopped him.
“What is it, my love?” he asked.
With a mischievous grin, she glanced toward his office. “This dress might be rather difficult to get out of, and I find myself too impatient to wait.”
“I’m intrigued.” He drew her knuckles to his lips. “What are you suggesting?”
She looked around and, certain they were alone, whispered, “You and me in your office.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You won’t be uncomfortable?”
She hesitated. “You’ll lock the door?”
She loved the idea of being intimate with him while so many of their peers mingled nearby, none the wiser, but she didn’t actually want anyone to walk in on them.
“Of course. If that’s what you want?”
Her shoulders relaxed. “It is.”
Decision made, they hurried to the office. She entered first, and he pushed her against the door. It clicked shut, and he turned the key, pinning her body against the wood.
Her breath came in short bursts. For some reason, the feeling of his powerful frame trapping her in place lit something up inside her. She angled her hips, seeking friction. He pushed his erection against her, sending a delicious zap of pleasure along her nerve endings.
He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, his lips skimming along the sensitive skin. She shivered.
“So sweet,” he murmured before biting lightly into the flesh.
