Page 54 of Midnight with the Marquess (The St. Clairs 2)

“That means you have. At least with Merrifield. You were gone a long time from the ballroom.”

She sniffed. “Merrifield is a gentleman.”

“Merrifield is a rutting bastard who’s been sniffing around you all week.”

Rachel sucked in a quick breath. “You go too far, Merrick.”

“Or not far enough,” he replied evenly.

She felt good in his arms. Where she was meant to be. Their lessons had ended. It was time he separated the so-called tutoring sessions from their real lives. He definitely wanted Rachel St. Clair in his. Maybe he’d kept her too much at a distance, passionate during their lessons and then cool apart from them. He realized that he’d never given her any indication of how he felt toward her. Perhaps, she pushed him away because she had those same feelings, too, and doubted he reciprocated them.

It was time to act upon them. Now.

The music finished playing. Evan gazed deeply into her eyes.

“We must talk.” He left no room for refusal.

He wove through the couples on the dance floor. There would be chaos now as others looked for those they’d come with, saying their goodnights to the earl and either going to their carriages or their bedchambers upstairs. Someone might see them if they headed toward the schoolroom. He couldn’t take that chance.

Instead, he swept Rachel out the doors and down the steps of the terrace. As they crossed the wide expanse of lawn, she tried to slow him.

“Where are we going?” she demanded.

“Somewhere quiet. Where we can talk without others listening.”

Somewhat mollified, she began walking again.

They reached the gardens, where two lanterns burned, one on each side of the entrance. Evan snatched one and took her down the path. He remembered how fond she’d been of Fairfield’s gazebo and had mentioned sitting in it late at night or early in the morning, inhaling the intoxicating blossoms that surrounded the structure.

When they reached it, he stepped inside and pulled her along. Setting the lantern on the ground in front of them, he tugged on her so they sat side by side on a bench.

Immediately, she crossed her arms in front of her. “What is so important, Lord Merrick, that you needed to drag me all the way out to the gardens to discuss it?”

She was being prickly. Evan decided words would never disarm her.

He would show her instead of tell her how he felt about her. How he didn’t want a day without her in it. As a man hardened by war, he couldn’t use pretty words of love because he still was uncertain if that’s what he felt for her or not.

But he needed her as much as he’d show her that she needed him.

His hand went to the nape of her neck to hold her firmly in place. The other stroked her cheek gently. Rachel’s eyes widened. Evan lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly. More kisses followed, each one longer than before, beating back her resistance. He sensed the moment it crumbled and coaxed her lips apart.

She tasted like warm sunshine and everything good in life. She tasted like Rachel.

His arm went around her, his hand running up and down the length of her back. He took his time, not wanting to rush her, gradually drawing her in until he heard one of those little sighs that made his heart quicken. With that, he pulled her into his lap and deepened the kiss. She wasn’t an active participant yet but he knew that would come. Her resolve was fading. And then it shattered and Rachel was kissing him with abandon. Her fingers pushed into his hair and tightened in it, as if she would never let go. Her tongue warred with his as they both sought to dominate the other. Evan tightened his arms about her, promising himself to never let her go.

They kissed until he couldn’t breathe unless it was a breath he stole from her. He tore his lips from hers and then nipped at them, licking as he went to soothe her. He kissed the long column of her throat and then the sweet spot where her neck and shoulder joined. Her sigh carried in the night air. His hand cupped her breast, squeezing lightly as he felt it swell. He dragged the pad of his thumb back and forth across her nipple, causing her to whimper. Her fingers tugged on his hair, pushing his head toward her breast and he knew what she desired.

Evan pushed the material covering her breasts down and caught sight of the swell of them. His tongue traced that swell as Rachel’s fingers kneaded his scalp and his hands kneaded her breasts. Her bottom squirmed against him, causing his manhood to spring to life. He returned to kissing her mouth as one hand slipped under the hem of her dress and glided along the satin of her calf. Her fingers relaxed and then she wound her arms about his neck, kissing him wildly, with a passion he’d never known from any woman.

His fingers danced up her leg. He stopped just shy of the curls protecting her womanly core.

She broke the kiss, her eyes glazed with need. “Please,” she whispered, and then kissed along his jaw.

Hot desire ran through him and he captured her lips again with his as his finger teased the seam of her sex. Rachel moaned as he entered her with two fingers, stroking her, enflaming her. She moved against him, sounds of want coming from the back of her throat. He would satisfy her in every way he could. Physically, they were perfectly matched. She would see the evidence of that tonight—and then he would ask her to become his wife.

Evan toyed with her, teasing with both lips and fingers, withdrawing and claiming her, over and over, until Rachel writhed against him. He sensed her orgasm nearing and caressed her deeply. She shattered in his arms, crying out her pleasure, his kiss muffling it as best as he could. Her pleasure was his one mission in life and Evan knew he had exceeded her expectations. She collapsed against him, her lips parting from his as she placed her cheek against his chest. He stroked her once more, wishing he could fully take her, but knowing that time would soon come.

Suddenly, a voice cried out, “What in bloody hell are you doing to my sister?”

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