hands, Lottie tried without success to stifle a fit of giggles.
More performances followed...bawdy songs and dances, comic verse, even a display of acrobatic tumbling and juggling. The hour grew late, the corners of the tavern became shadowy, and in the relaxed atmosphere, more than a few couples began to indulge in some indiscreet fondling and kissing. Lottie knew that she should have been shocked, but the gin punch had made her sleepy and thickheaded. She discovered that she was sitting on Nick's lap, her legs tucked between his, and that the only reason she was able to sit upright was the fact that his arms were around her.
'Oh, dear,' she said, staring into her nearly empty cup. 'Did I drink all of that?'
Nick took the cup from her and set it on the table. 'I'm afraid so.'
'Only you could undo my years of training at Maidstone's in one evening,' she said, making him grin.
His gaze lowered to her mouth, and he traced the edge of her jaw with his fingertip. 'Are you completely corrupted now? No? Then let's go home, and I'll finish the job.'
Feeling unsteady and very warm, Lottie giggled as he guided her through the tavern. 'The floor is uneven,' she told him, leaning hard against his side.
'It's not the floor, sweetheart, it's your feet.'
Pondering that, Lottie glanced from his amused face to her own feet. 'They do feel as if they've been put on the wrong legs.'
Nick shook his head, his blue eyes gleaming with laughter. 'You have no tolerance for gin, do you? Here, let me carry you.'
'No, I don't wish to be a spectacle,' she protested as he lifted her against his chest and carried her out to the street. Catching sight of them, a waiting footman hurried to the end of the street, where their carriage waited in a long row.
'You'll be more of a spectacle if you fall on your face,' Nick replied.
'I'm not that far gone,' Lottie protested. However, his arms were so solid and his shoulder so inviting that she snuggled against him with a sigh. The slightly musky scent of his skin mingled with the crisp smell of starch from his necktie, a blend so alluring that she inched closer to inhale deeply.
Nick stopped by the side of the street. His head turned, his shaven cheek brushing hers and making her skin tingle. 'What are you doing?'
'Your smell...' she said dreamily. 'It's wonderful. I noticed it the first time we met, when you nearly knocked me off the wall.'
A laugh stirred in his throat. 'I saved you from falling, you mean.'
Intrigued by the scratchy texture of his skin, Lottie pressed her lips beneath his jaw. She felt him swallow hard, the movement rippling against her mouth. It was the first time she had ever made an advance to him, and the small gesture was surprisingly effective. He stood there holding her tightly, his chest rising and falling in increasingly labored breaths. Intrigued by the notion that she could arouse him so easily, Lottie tugged at the knot of his necktie and kissed the side of his throat.
'Don't, Lottie.'
She drew the tip of her fingernail over the hair-roughened skin, scraping delicately.
'Lottie...' he tried again. Whatever he had intended to say was forgotten as she kissed his ear and took the lobe between her teeth in a soft bite.
The carriage stopped before them, and the footman busied himself with setting out the removable step. Schooling his features into a blank mask, Nick thrust Lottie inside the carriage and climbed in after her.
As soon as the door closed, he hauled her into his lap and tugged roughly at the front of her gown. She reached up to play with his hair, tangling her fingers in the thick sable locks. Unlacing the top of her corset, he eased one breast out and fastened his mouth over the soft nipple. The teasing suction caused her to arch against him with a whimper of pleasure. His hands delved frantically beneath her skirts, slipping past masses of broadcloth and linen to find the damp slit of her drawers. His hand was too large to slip inside the undergarment, and he ripped it with an ease that made her gasp. Her thighs spread in helpless welcome, and her vision blurred as one long finger eased inside her. Cradled in his lap, with his hand working gently between her legs, she felt her inner muscles begin to tighten rhythmically.
A groan escaped him, and he pulled her hips over his, fumbling roughly with the front of his trousers. 'You're so wet...I can't wait, Lottie, let me...sit in my lap, and put your legs...oh, God, yes, right there...'
She straddled him willingly, sucking in her breath as he penetrated her, his hands urging her hips down until he had buried himself to the hilt. He was deliciously hard and thick inside her, holding still while the motion of the carriage jostled their bodies together. Surreptitiously Lottie rubbed the aching peak of her sex against him, feeling waves of heat rising from the place they were joined. One of his hands passed gently over her upper back.
Lottie gasped as a vigorous jolt of the carriage wheels impelled him farther inside her. 'We don't have long,' she managed to say against his throat. 'The tavern is very close to home.'
Nick responded with a tortured groan. 'The next time I'll make the driver take us around the whole of London...twice.' He slid his thumb to the top of her wet sex and flicked it with soft, rapid strokes, building her pleasure rapidly until she curled against him with a sob, overwhelmed by explosive sensation. Hitching his hips upward in desperate thrusts, he growled and buried his face in the curve of her neck, his passion reaching a blinding culmination.
They both breathed in long gasps, while their naked flesh was locked together beneath the layers of disheveled clothing. 'It's never enough,' Nick said gruffly, his hand cupping over her soft buttocks, holding her firmly against him. 'It feels too good to stop.'
Lottie understood what he was attempting to express. The unquenchable need between them was more than mere physical craving. She found a satisfaction in being together that went far beyond the joining of their bodies. Until this moment, however, she hadn't known that he felt it too...and she wondered if he was as afraid to acknowledge the feeling as she was.
CHAPTER 11
London was so vastly different from the serenity of Hampshire that Lottie could scarcely believe it was in the same country. It was a world of high fashion and endless amusements, with a sharp juxtaposition of poverty and wealth, and crime-ridden alleys tucked behind the streets of prosperous markets and shops. There was the area past Temple Bar called the City, and the west side, referred to as 'town,' and an abundance of gardens, walks, concert halls, and shops featuring luxuries that she could never have imagined.
As the second week of their marriage began, Nick seemed to find it amusing to indulge Lottie as if she were a child he was bent on spoiling. He took her to a confectioner's shop at Berkeley Square and bought her an ice made of pureed chestnuts mixed liberally with candied cherries. Afterward they proceeded to Bond Street, where he purchased her a selection of French powders and scented waters, and a dozen pairs of embroidered silk stockings. Lottie tried to stop him from buying a fortune's worth of white gloves and handkerchiefs from the linen-draper's, and she objected strongly to a pair of pink silk shoes with gold tassels that would have cost a full month's tuition at Maidstone's. However, Nick ignored her protests as he continued to purchase whatever caught his fancy. Their final stop was at a tea shop, where he ordered a half-dozen exotic teas in beautiful jars, bearing intriguing names such as 'gunpowder,' 'congou,' or 'souchong.'
Envisioning the mountain of packages that would be delivered later that day to the house on Betterton, Lottie begged him to desist. 'I need nothing else,' she said firmly, 'and I refuse to set foot in one more shop. There is no reason for such immoderation.'
'Yes, there is,' Nick replied, escorting her to their waiting carriage, piled high with parcels and boxes.
'Oh? What is it?'
He responded with a maddening smile. Surely he didn't think that he was purchasing her sexual favors, as she had been more than acquiescent in that regard. Perhaps he simply wanted her to feel obligated to him? But why?
Life with Nick Gentry was turning out to be quite puzzling, consisting of moments of searing closeness interspersed with small reminders that they were still complete strangers in most regards. She did not understand why Nick left her bed every night after making love to her, never allowing himself to drift to sleep beside her. After everything else they had shared, that seemed harmless enough. But he refused her awkward invitations to stay,
