The women around him talked as if nothing was amiss. Yet someone was dragging her fingers along his leg, feeling his thigh through his trousers. Maddie must have been responsible. She was the closest, other than Miss Hartwell, who did not seem the type to act so boldly with a stranger. Not to mention it would require her to reach over him, which was not as easily done.
Then, just for an instant, the hard edge of a metal prong, like the ones on a large stone setting, brushed his leg.
The ducal betrothal ring.
Those fingers belonged to Maddie. He was absolutely certain of it.
A light sweat broke out on his skin, heat rushing through his entire body as her exploration continued. He allowed it, reveling in the knowledge that she wished to caress him. Hell, he’d encourage her. In fact, she could keep going until she reached his cock, which was growing stiff and eager for the attention.
“Is something wrong?” Maddie whispered.
“Not a dashed thing,” he said quietly. “Keep going.”
The touch was delicate but it seemed as if every nerve in his body was centered in that one place. His chest heaved, nostrils flaring as he pulled in air, the rest of him perfectly still while the fingers lingered and bedeviled him. Teased and tested the shape of his thigh.
“You are worrying me,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
How could she not know?
Leaning over, he put his lips near the shell of her ear. “Higher.”
The fingers skimmed upward, onto his inner thigh.
Fuck.
His head dropped back, thumping against the wall, and he struggled not to move, not to roll his hips or push into that seeking hand. His skin crawled with anticipation, turning both hot and cold at the same time, desire burning him alive. Was she enjoying this, too? Because he might actually break down and cry if she pulled her hand away.
Miss Hartwell began speaking to him again, asking about his time in Paris. Had he been to the restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower? Had he met many artists and writers? What was the Folies-Bergère like? Harrison answered as best he could, each sentence a trek through quicksand. Mostly he grunted one- or two-word responses, praying that was enough to avoid drawing any attention to his lower half.
Higher and higher went the swirling, tempting fingertips, doing everything possible to drive him out of his mind. A tempest raged inside him, this burning need for Maddie that he’d tried to control for years, and with her fingers creeping ever so closer to his groin, he feared he might lose his grip on his restraint. Would she stop? Or would she stroke him, feel the hard ridges of his cock and soft weight of his balls through his clothing?
He groaned and tried to cover it with a cough.
“What is going on?” Maddie hissed.
He hadn’t known her to be a clever liar, but those questioning fingers had to belong to her. He felt it deep in his bones. There was no other plausible explanation. If he believed another guest was responsible, he would have put a stop to it from the start.
No, this was most assuredly Maddie, and he craved her caresses like his next breath.
The lack of stimulating conversation must have frustrated Miss Hartwell because she turned to the young woman on her other side and struck up a chat. The fingers on his thigh stilled, unsure, and he waited, blood rushing in his ears, while time slowed to a halt.
Her lips hovered near the shell of his right ear. “Shall I remove my hand?”
Fuck. His words from earlier.
He angled toward her, close enough so that only Maddie could hear. “Don’t you dare.”
The touch grew bolder, a voyage of discovery. Attention was paid to the crease of his thigh, the fingers ever so lightly smoothing the cloth there. He gripped the edge of the bench, and his nails dug into the wood like a man hanging on to his sanity. God, yes. Keep going. Just a bit to the left.
Then she danced away, moving closer to his knee again, and he slumped in the seat, disappointed. He couldn’t help but offer instruction. “Wrong direction,” he crooned in her ear. “Tease me, Mads.”
Her fingers flattened along his thigh and slid upward, lighter than he preferred but somehow perfect because it was Maddie. His balls ached and his groin was heavy with need, every cell in his body straining to remain still and quiet. Would she stroke his cock? If she did, he might spend in his trousers.
The door flew open, startling everyone, and Harrison blinked into the light. The hand had already disappeared from his thigh by the time he saw Kit in the entryway.
“There’s been a slight mishap,” Kit announced. “Miss Lusk has turned her ankle, so we’re calling an end to the game.”
The ladies each expressed their sympathy for Miss Lusk, talking among themselves as they filed out the door. Harrison remained seated, rude as it was, in an effort to hide the erection in his trousers. When Maddie rose and started to follow everyone to the exit, he clasped her wrist, stopping her.
She cast a frown down at him. Her skin was flushed, but he wasn’t sure if it was from touching him or the heat inside the room. She said, “I must go and check on Alice.”
Was she serious?
“Wait a moment.” The last of the guests departed and the two of them were alone. “What about just now?”
She huffed in annoyance, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “Harrison, I don’t have time for this.”
Fair enough. He would rather have her alone for this discussion, anyway. “Meet me in the gazebo at half past midnight.”
She started to open her mouth—to protest, no doubt—so he held up a hand and came to his feet. “Tonight, Maddie. Be there.” He moved closer and dipped his head. “Or else I’ll come find you.”
Flustered from the changing room, Maddie stepped outside and slipped her hat on her head. What had come over her in there? It was like his presence in that tiny room had stolen her reason, scattered her thoughts. She’d been brazen. Daring. A selfish woman who’d behaved recklessly, with little regard to the serious consequences that could result.
Now everything was different, like the heavens had been flipped upside down. The sun felt cold on her skin, the soft breeze like needles.
Yet she couldn’t begin to stop and contemplate what it all meant, not when one of her friends had been injured.
Kit gave her a secretive glance, one that said he was aware of what had transpired in that tiny room, but that was impossible. No one could have any idea because Maddie wasn’t certain herself.
The tent was quiet, with everyone huddled in one corner around a woman in a chair. “What happened?” Maddie asked.
Alice was seated, her foot propped on another chair. “Forgive me for ruining the game, Miss Webster.” Misery shone in her troubled gaze. “There was a hole in the grass and I overlooked it. My ankle’s turned.”
“No apologies necessary.” Maddie clasped Alice’s hand. “I feel awful that you’ve been hurt.”
“It appears to be a mild twist,” Daddy said. “We sent for the doctor just to be sure.”
“Thank you, Mr. Webster,” Alice’s mother said, her lips thin and white with anger. “We are sorry for the inconvenience. Alice is too clumsy for her own good.”
Before Maddie could stick up for Alice, Nellie spoke. “Clumsy had nothing to do with it, Mrs. Lusk. There was a giant hole in the lawn. Anyone might have stepped in it.”