Page 48 of An Extraordinary Lord

He dropped his sword with a clatter and shoved both hands deep into her hair. Leaning back against the wall, he held her head still as he began to pulse between her lips in small, controlled thrusts.

In response, she slid her hands behind him to clasp both of his buttocks and squeeze with each hard suck. Her cheeks hollowed with every great pull, with every attempt to take him as deep into her mouth as possible.

He shook violently as he fought for control. His fingers dug into her scalp, and his thrusts came faster now as he moved between her lips. He couldn’t stop the growls and groans that spilled from him.

She moaned as she experienced her own shudder of joy.

“Veronica,” he uttered hoarsely in warning, giving her one last chance to stop.

But she didn’t pull away. He jerked his hips, and when release fired through him and he gushed into her mouth, she drank him in. He slumped back against the wall to gasp for breath, but even then, she didn’t release him until she’d claimed every drop.

Finally, she pulled back and let his flaccid length slide slowly through her lips.

He sank bonelessly down the wall to the floor, knees bent and shoulders slumped, as residual pleasure undulated through him.

Slowly, Veronica rose to her full height and stood in front of him like a goddess at whose feet he was worshipping. Fitting. Because this dark angel had certainly brought him to his knees.

“Veronica,” he whispered breathlessly. His sex-fogged brain was unable to put words to the sensations spinning through him, all his doubts and troubled thoughts warring with the elation she’d just given him. “What we just did…”

His voice trailed off into the shadows. For the life of him, he had no idea what to say, unable to admit that tonight was the most amazing encounter he’d ever had with a woman that hadn’t ended with him inside her. That he wanted nothing more than to forget who she was and why fate had brought them together.

But he couldn’t. The past could never be forgotten.

His voice ached with grief and regret as he rasped out the truth that both of them knew in their hearts. “That can never happen again.”

Thirteen

“And just wait until you see the gardens! They’ll simply take your breath away!”

Veronica smiled at the exuberant young woman sitting across from her in the carriage. Mrs. Claudia Trousdale, the woman Merritt had chosen to accompany her to the ball.

He’d sent her a note telling her that he’d taken care of all the arrangements, that she was to dress for the evening at Le Château Noir and wait for a carriage to arrive to take her to Carlton House. She’d done as asked, but she hadn’t expected such a luxurious town coach and beautiful team of matching horses to whisk her away like Cinderella to the ball. Or the young woman who waited inside who would serve as her guide through the evening’s perils.

Claudia introduced herself before Veronica even had the chance to sit down, insisted Veronica call her by her first name, and then barely paused for breath during the short ride to Carlton House as she crammed in as much information as possible about what Veronica could expect from the evening. Most of it, though, was simply gushing about how exquisite the royal house was and why the party was being thrown. And names. Lots and lots of names and titles that simply flitted right over her head.

“And of course, as soon as we arrive, I’ll introduce you to my brother, Marcus, and his wife.” Claudia paused only long enough to glance outside the window. The flickering gas lamps that lined the drive confirmed they’d finally wound their way into the long line of carriages that snaked slowly toward the front of the grand building, despite the bells in the nearby church now striking only eight o’clock. “But perhaps you know them already—Marcus and Danielle Braddock, Duke and Duchess of Hampton?”

Veronica stifled an amused laugh and replied casually, “No, I don’t believe I do.” As if she were in any position to know a duke and duchess! And not just any duke, either, but the man second only to Wellington in being England’s greatest hero in the wars. “The general is your brother?”

Claudia craned her neck for a better view toward the front portico to gauge how far they were from arriving. “Yes. And I love him dearly.” The carriage’s progress had now stalled completely. She frowned as if contemplating if they should leave the carriage and make a run for it on foot. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t times when I want to send him back to France.”

Veronica smiled. She liked Claudia. A great deal.

“Marcus often forgets that he’s no longer a general and tries to order the Braddock women around.” She slid Veronica a long-suffering look. “It never goes well for him.”

Veronica’s lips twisted. “I can imagine.”

“Merritt served under him in the army, you know. In the Coldstream Guards. Merritt and Brandon Pearce and Clayton Elliott—they’re all like family to us. Which was why I was so happy to do this favor for him tonight and accompany you.”

Her chest panged at the mention of Merritt’s name. She hadn’t seen him since the riot, although thank God she hadn’t, because she had no idea what she would say when she finally did.I hope you don’t mind that I went mad, dropped to my knees, and…

“To attend this celebration in particular,” Claudia rambled on, “to welcome Prince Gorchakov and Count Wittgenstein to England—and all the other foreign nobles in attendance, too—oh, this is going to be the event of the year!”

Or how shamelessly I enjoyed it and very much want to do it again.

“Everyone will be talking about it right through the holidays and into the next Parliament.”

You’ve gotten under my skin, and I have to find a way to push you out before you destroy me.