“Don’t call him that,” Miranda snapped. “He’s a lovely person and a gentleman.”
Of course, the fact that she was the only woman he’d ever lain with could be used to argue that he most certainly was not a whore. However, Miranda wouldn’t betray Roger’s confidence that way, not even to her dearest friends.
“See?” Mary said to Joan with a coy grin. “Besotted.”
“Fine,” Miranda relented with a sigh. “I like him very much. There, are you satisfied?”
“Seems to me you are the one who is satisfied,” Joan quipped. “I foresee a long and diverting affair. I am glad for you, Miranda.”
“How long do you intend to let this go on?” Maud asked. “I thought the purpose of this … liaison was to satisfy your curiosity about the Gentleman Courtesans agency. You have done that. If this goes on much longer, you are sure to be found out.”
“Oh, pish,” said Mary. “There are at least half a dozen affairs taking place under my roof right now. I daresay no one is in a position to judge Miranda.”
“Only if she doesn’t get caught,” Maud retorted. “You know how sanctimonious the ton can be. It doesn’t matter what any of them are doing behind closed doors. If your secrets are aired publicly, you’ll be ostracized, and you know it.”
Miranda hated to admit that Maud was right, but they both knew very well how easily a woman’s good name could be ruined. Her status as a widow offered her the ability to act as she pleased, but with discretion. If anyone found out about her connection to Roger, he would go unscathed; she would not. Despite knowing this, Miranda experienced a visceral reaction to Maud’s claim. It lay on the tip of her tongue to insist she didn’t care whether they were found out. She was happy, and had Roger to thank for that. Instead of worrying over getting caught, her thoughts veered more toward grappling with what would happen once their affair came to an end. Did it have to end?
A lump lodged itself in her throat at the thought. In such a brief time, she had come to enjoy and even crave his presence beside her while she slept. Through the duration of this house party, she had lived for his smiles and the glances that spoke more than words ever could. It didn’t help matters that he had been so wonderful with Ursula, or that he’d expressed his desire to have children of his own. Roger wasn’t an experienced seducer, nor had he had much practice using his charm to woo a woman. And yet, he had wooed her so completely it was laughable. Here she was, the experienced party in their relationship—the one sophisticated and worldly enough to hire a courtesan to warm her bed. Yet, she was losing her heart like the silliest and most naïve of schoolroom chits.
“We have been careful,” she said, keeping her other thoughts to herself. “There is nothing to worry about.”
Turning her gaze back to her cards, Maud gave her head a little shake. “I do hope you’re right, Miranda.”
Roger held tighter to Miranda’s hand as they trotted down the garden path, the hedges of the maze closing them away from the world. Laughter bubbled in this throat, tangling with the little giggles emitting from the woman holding up her skirts to keep up with his long strides. In the past, he would have considered running off with a woman during a dinner party the height of madness. He would have been too afraid that being caught would reflect poorly upon Emily. He would have been too afraid to even muster up a flirtation with a woman, let alone sneak away from the party just for a taste of one.
But that was exactly what he was doing tonight, and it felt bloody good. The frigid night air barely registered on his skin, because he was burning up from the inside and desperate to get Miranda alone. She had been tempting him all evening with lingering looks and sly smiles. The bodice of her evening gown showcased her bosom to perfection, making him hunger to taste her—so much so that every course of their meal had been bland by comparison. The suggestion of dancing had been made after dinner, and the party adjourned to the largest drawing room overlooking the garden.
He and Miranda had been drawn to one another from opposite sides of the room like the tide to the pull of the moon. Skirting the perimeter of the room, he’d encountered her near the French doors leading the way outside. It dawned on him that just on the other side was the spot they’d first met. How different things were between them now—how different he was than the man he’d been less than a fortnight ago.
They’d slipped through the doors unseen and taken off running hand in hand, the light and noise of the party fading away behind them. Now alone in the darkened garden, they were free from the prying eyes of others.
Deciding they had gone far enough into the maze, Roger halted and spun, causing Miranda to crash into his chest with a shocked laugh. He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her tighter against him, seeking her lips with a desperate hunger only she could satiate. The world around them spun and tilted as they shared a ravenous kiss—a torrent of lips and tongue and teeth. Roger ran his hands down Miranda’s body, squeezing her breasts, cupping her buttocks and kneading the soft, pliant flesh.
His cock stood to attention with frightening urgency, as if he hadn’t just had her at dawn before leaving her bedchamber. He wanted to believe his insatiability had everything to do with the novelty of the experience. Now he’d tasted of pleasure he couldn’t seem to get enough. Only, he knew very well that wasn’t the only reason he was distracted, off-balance, and completely unlike his usual self.
It was Miranda. It was this woman, her smiles, her kisses, her acceptance of who he was. He’d never known anything like it, and had begun to despair that once she was finished with him, he might never feel it again. The desperation caused by that thought made Roger increase the pressure of his lips, plunge his tongue deeper into her mouth, and try to make the moment last for as long as possible. They had only just begun, and Roger intended to keep her happy with him so she had no cause to end their arrangement. Hell, if she decided his services could no longer be afforded, he would happily perform them at no cost. Anything to be near her, to finally feel close to someone and experience affection.
Miranda wrenched her mouth from his, panting and gasping for air as she gazed up at him. Her eyes were shadowed, but the moonlight illuminated her reddened, kiss-swollen lips.
“This is madness,” she whispered, then issued a disbelieving laugh. “I cannot believe we are doing this.”
With a low murmur of need, Roger bent to kiss her neck. Miranda’s head fell back as he nipped his way down to her collarbone.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked while kissing the flesh exposed by the low neckline of her gown.
She moaned, sagging against the hedgerow as he licked and nibbled, his fingers working the fastenings along her back. “No … God, no. Please don’t stop.”
Her gown began to sag, and a few tugs on the strings of her stays allowed her breasts to fall free. Miranda gasped, her bared skin breaking out in goose bumps and her nipples furling taut in the cold air. Roger took one into his mouth, reveling in the sharp cry she made at the first touch of his tongue. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she held him to her bosom, back arching as she offered herself up to him. He gripped fistfuls of her skirts and began drawing them up while teasing her nipples with playful bites and circling licks of his tongue.