All the Pleasures of the Season by Lecia Cornwall Read Free Book Online Page B

me to wear it at my wedding.” She rubbed at the tears that were obscuring her vision, hampering her search. “I still have to write to Grandfather and tell him we won’t be at Carrington for Christmas, and—”
    He watched her crumple, dissolve into sobs. He had no idea what she was talking about. He put his hand to her cheek, wiping away the tears, but they fell too fast. He gave up trying to stem the deluge and pulled her into his arms, let her soak his lapels, as they sat on the floor of her sister’s salon and he stared at her pretty bare feet. He shut his eyes and rested his chin on the softness of her hair, breathed her in, felt the soft weight of her body flow against his, fill him.
    â€œKelton noticed the clasp on one of the earrings was loose. He was annoyed that I would be so careless. He offered to get them fixed so I wouldn’t lose them, but this is worse, so much worse. What will Grandfather say?” she sobbed.
    What would Carrington say indeed? Gilbert wondered. The duke was more terrifying than his martial counterpart, Wellington. Both dukes were known for their dislike of fools and wastrels and people stupid enough to let their heritage slip through their fingers.
    â€œI have to tell him,” she said. “I have to tell him everything, and I don’t know what to say,” she sobbed.
    Gilbert had seen the way Carrington had looked at his youngest granddaughter, with love and pride clear in his eyes.
    â€œHe’ll understand,” he said. “He loves you. I daresay he would forgive you almost anything.”
    â€œNot now, not this,” she said.
    He moved so his back was against the settee, and settled her more comfortably in his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder, tucked her hand inside his coat and rested it above his heart, and he shut his eyes at the sweetness of the sensation.
    Comfort, he reminded himself. This was simple comfort. He should not feel arousal, or desire. She was upset about losing a valuable necklace, nervous about her wedding. If he weren’t here, she would be crying on Marianne’s shoulder. His hopeful cock refused to believe that. He shifted so she wouldn’t guess, and she looked up at him, her eyes a summer pond after a storm.
    â€œWould you kiss me, Gilbert?” she asked. “I want to know what it might have been like, if we, um—”
    It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but he couldn’t. Her breath was soft on his mouth, her eyes fixed on his lips. Her breasts rested there as they had last night, but this time he could feel her heart beating against his. She shut her eyes, parted her lips in anticipation, and he was lost. He cursed himself for a fool, praised his incredible luck as his lips touched the incredible softness of hers. He felt her exhalation of breath against his mouth, as if she’d discovered a wonder. She slid her arms up around his neck and kissed him back, clinging. He was surrounded by the scent of her, the softness of her, and he didn’t want to stop.
    He ran his tongue along her bottom lip, tasting the salt of her tears. He cupped her face in his palms, let his thumb caress the tiny birthmark.
    She touched him, too, running her hand over his face as if she were memorizing it. He touched the tip of his tongue to hers, and she gasped, then closed her mouth and sucked, drawing him in. She shifted on his lap, her hips pressed against his, and he felt himself sliding, falling, slipping to the carpet with her on top of him. Her body was pressed full-length against him now, and she could not help but understand, even as a virgin, what she was doing to him. She shifted, brought her hips closer to his, brushing against the jut of his erection. She reached down, closed her hand on him, and sanity hit him like cold water. He sat up, pushed her away, and held her at arm’s length, panting as if he’d been running.
    â€œMiranda, we have to stop,” he said.
    She