Page 68 of When the Viscount Seduces
“I will find a way to deal with him,” Lazarus promised, thinking he would again need to consult with his friends. Except, it wasn’t his place to do so. He wasn’t a family member, and he wasn’t her husband. While he was also implicated,his reputation would not suffer as Gwen’s would. A powerful yearning tore through him. “Unless your father plans to put an end to his baseless gossip. He would be better suited,” Lazarus added rather lamely.
“He will not. And it isn’t baseless. Weweremeeting, even if we weren’t actually having a liaison.”
No, but Lazarus would have liked to. Even now, he couldn’t help thinking how much he wanted to back her against the wall and kiss her. He’d raise her skirts and stroke her thigh, then her sex. She’d moan for him, and he’d bring her to a fierce climax. Then he’d lift her so she could wrap her legs around him while he opened his fall and?—
“Lazarus?”
Christ, had she said something? “I’m sorry. I was thinking of ways I’d like to put Eberforce in his place,” he lied.
“I was telling you my father’s plan to respond to Eberforce’s information which Eberforce will surely make public. He may be spreading his rumors this very moment.” She pressed her lips together, and Lazarus hated how this was affecting her. She was supposed to be attracting a husband, and this would be a terrible setback. Because of him—Lazarus’s reputation would fuel Eberforce’s rumor. It would be easy to believe Gwen would be seduced by the rakish Viscount Somerton.
“What is your father’s plan?” Lazarus hoped it would save her from disaster.
“He has written to Markwith to negotiate our marriage settlement.” She sounded as if she’d been sentenced to prison. Or transportation.
Lazarus let that sink in. She wasn’t happy with her father’s plan. Which was to marry one of her very excellent suitors.
But whywouldthat make her happy when this very afternoon, she’d tried to tell Lazarus that she loved him?
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, cupping her face and moving to stand before her so their bodies nearly met.
“I don’t want to marry Markwith,” she said, her voice nearly breaking.
“No, I can’t imagine you do. Nor do I want you to. This is all my fault.” Lazarus stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “I allowed us to grow too close.”
“Nothing you could have done would have changed anything. Unless you’d never rescued me at Almack’s, and I hope you don’t regret that. Your actions that night and ever since have been the greatest things anyone has ever done for me. To think that I was actually the queen of the Phoenix Club ball and attended a literary salon—because of you. You have made dreams I didn’t know I had come true. ” She looked into his eyes, her lips parted. “Please don’t regret any of it.”
“Never.” Lazarus lowered his head and kissed her with a savage intensity that he feared would consume him if he didn’t unleash it. His body sang with passion and hope as he cupped her head and brought one hand down her throat, caressing her warm flesh as she pressed her body into his.
She clasped his neck and returned his kiss with a ferocity that made him tighten his hold on her. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he never wanted to let her go.
He steered her backward into the darkest corner at the base of the stairs that went up, his mouth devouring hers with an ever-increasing lust. He had never wanted to possess anyone the way he did Gwen. She’d completely overtaken his mind, his body, his heart, his very soul.
Kissing along her jaw, he nipped at her earlobe. “Gwen, I am desperate to touch you. May I?”
“Yes, please. Touch me.”
Lazarus clasped her hip as he licked the flesh beneath her ear. “I want to lift your skirt.”
She pulled at the garment herself, and Lazarus skimmed his hand beneath the fabric along the inside of her thigh. She shivered, her flesh pebbling.
“Part your legs, my love,” he whispered, kissing her neck as he stroked her.
Widening her stance, she dug her fingers into his nape. “Yes, touch me,” she breathed.
Gently, he swept his fingertips along her sex. He lifted his head to look at her, but her eyes were closed. “Look at me, Gwen.”
Her dark lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened, though the lids were heavy. Lips parted, her breath was coming fast, echoing his own excitement.
“I should not touch you like this.” His hand barely grazed her as he urged himself to walk away from her.
She slipped one hand inside his coat and pulled at him. “I want you to touch me. I will die if you don’t touch me. Please don’t walk away. What if we never have another moment like this?”
Because she was to marry Markwith. And Lazarus might yet find himself coerced into marrying Miss Worsley. “Then I must tell you that I love you. I may be a rogue, but for the first time in my life, I am a rogue in love. I wish I could erase everything that has come before so that there is only you.”
Her eyes glowed with emotion as her mouth curved up. “I don’t want you to do that because then you wouldn’t be the man you are today—the rogue I love.” She smiled widely then. “Thank you for letting me say it.”
He kissed her hard and fierce. “I couldn’t bear to hear it earlier, for I don’t deserve your love.” If she knew what he was accused of, she would agree. Even if he wasn’t the father of Miss Worsley’s child, the fact that he could have been solidifiedhis rogue status. He would never believe he could be worthy of someone as pure and perfect as Gwen.
