She tasted like ambrosia. Or the rarest brandy. Sinful and heady. Intoxicating. He wanted to drink from her until he could drink no more. Until he’d emptied her of whatever it was that fueled his hunger.
When he bit her plump, lower lip, Lauren moaned and opened her mouth further so his tongue could sweep inside. She still trembled, and Theodore moved her away from the window, wrapping his free arm around her waist and keeping her jaw cradled in the palm of his hand.
She’d been such a responsive creature before, so many months ago, leaning into his touch and eagerly accepting his kisses during their stolen moments. He was glad to see that at least had not changed.
He could not be gentle now, although he did try. In a restrained frenzy of possessiveness, he showed her how terribly he’d missed her. Showed her how desperately he still wanted her and how ironclad his resolve was.
When he finally drew back, Lauren’s grey eyes were stormy and dark. Her features mirrored his own need, her skin flushed with warmth, her fingers clutching his forearm as though needing something solid to steady herself.
“I’ve two weeks to convince you this is where you are meant to be, Lauren. Here, in my arms. Where I can kiss you any time I desire, wherever and however I want.” Theodore traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue, pushing past the seam of her lips until she parted them with a little sound of frustrated yearning.
“Hawthorne…” Lauren whispered.
“Use my name as you did once before. Don’t treat this like a random social call. Do you understand me?” He ravished her mouth until she was panting. “Do you. Understand. Me?”
Her breath hitched at his unyielding tone, but she complied. “Theo.”
Theodore could not deny the jolt of lust that electrified him when she said his name in a quivering sigh. His forehead dropped forward until it touched hers. “I want to devour you until I’ve gorged myself. Until I can’t possibly take any more of you. But the truth is, I will never have my fill, Lauren. I want all of you.”
Pressing one last heated kiss on her mouth, Theodore allowed her to sink back from him. His arms felt empty without her warmth.
“Now, come. Let’s see you settled into your room so my conquest of your heart may begin in earnest.”
Hours later, Theodore watched Lauren during supper. She was doing a fine job of avoiding him, and he suspected she’d engaged Penelope in making sure she was not seated anywhere near him.
He would allow that distance for now. After all, his presence here was unexpected. It probably felt as though she’d been ambushed. To be truthful, he was shocked upon arriving at Settleton the day before and learning Lauren would also be attending the house party.
The past year and a half had been brutal. His own father’s death and the steps taken to rebuild the family fortune had drained him. Not to mention the guilt he’d suffered when Lauren discovered the foundation of their relationship.
He had hated hiding it from her. During their brief engagement, he debated telling Lauren the truth. He wanted to tell her how he went along with his father’s wishes in the beginning for the sake of his mother. Would Lauren understand how desperately the earl wanted to ensure the wellbeing of his loved ones before his death? Even if it meant deceiving the one chosen as his bride?
Did she have any idea how frantic her own father was to protect his only child?
Lauren’s musical laughter drifted from the opposite end of the table. She appeared vastly amused by something Lord Gregory Sanderson just said. She leaned toward him until the pink silk of her gown brushed his arm.
Theodore’s hand clenched around the crystal goblet of wine. For a brief moment, he wanted to stalk down there, punch the other man in the mouth, and carry Lauren Georgianna Kendall out of the room. Preferably tossed over his shoulder.
“You are in danger of crushing that goblet, Hawthorne,” Penelope murmured.
Theodore’s gaze snapped to their hostess. She raised her own glass in a subtle toast, and he forced his fingers to relax.
“My apologies,” he said with a faint smile.
“Is it too late to beg forgiveness for my part in this bizarre espionage?” Penelope’s eyebrow rose slightly. “I would not blame you if you were angry with me. Lauren certainly is.”
“No need. Whatever the reason, I’m glad she and I are here together. I hope to rectify matters between us… if she will allow me to do so.”
“Lauren has always been stubborn.” Penelope took a sip of her wine. “Even as a child, she stood her ground when we played games and someone bent the rules or cheated, and heaven help the person who thought they could make her do something she did not want to do. She has the constitution of a mule.”
From the opposite side of the room, Penelope regarded Lauren for a long moment then admitted slowly, “It was both of your mothers’ idea that I invite the two of you here. They are determined to see you together for your own good. I only agreed I would extend the invitation. You’ll understand that I can take no further part in deceiving my cousin.”
“I found it puzzling I received an invite,” Theodore acknowledged.
“Did you hesitate in accepting?”
“No. Nor am I surprised my mother is involved in the plotting,” he replied dryly. “She adores Lauren and fears, unless I marry her, any hope for grandchildren may be lost forever.”
“You came, Hawthorne, hoping she would be here, and so she is. It is up to you now.” Penelope nodded in Lauren’s direction. “You have two weeks to change my cousin’s mind.”
“And I intend to do just that.”
“How, precisely?”
Theodore flashed Penelope a wide grin. “With an ungodly amount of mistletoe.” He did not mention he carried a bit of the greenery within his inner coat pocket. A good plan of action meant being prepared at all times. Especially with his surprisingly independent fiancée.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s a private matter between Lauren and myself. The only favor I ask of you is making sure the stuff is hung everywhere whilst we are here. You will not tell her of her mother’s subterfuge.”
Penelope looked unsure before nodding her agreement. “As you wish, Hawthorne.”
“Thank you, Penelope. Every time Lauren turns a corner, I want a reason to kiss her, and the mistletoe will provide that until she is fully mine.”
When Lauren retired for the evening, Theodore made his excuses as well. He followed her from the East Drawing Room, where the others remained playing whist. Her frown of exasperation was ignored.
“Your persistence continues,” she said when he fell into step alongside her.
“Just making up for lost months.”
“Hmm.”
“How is your mother?” Theodore asked diplomatically. “Well, I hope?”
“She is. I hope yours is the same?” Her response was polite, as he expected.
“It seems both ladies are doing better than we could have possibly imagined.” Theodore sighed, thoughtfully rubbing his chin as Lauren drew up short in the grand foyer.
Gripping the newel cap of the staircase, Lauren half turned. “What do you mean?”
“It is of no matter.”