as Luc's sisters and Fiona, and Minerva and Louise to keep Georgina company, young Lord Kirkpatrick and two of his friends had been invited, along with Reggie, and Amelia's brother Simon. And three of their cousins, Heather, Eliza, and Angelica, together with a few of their friends.
The carriages rolled up, the occupants joined them on the shady terrace, and the picnic party swelled to a sizable group, full of laughing, chattering good cheer.
Luc viewed the gathering with mixed feelings. He was thankful his two youngest sisters, Portia and Penelope, had remained at home in Rutlandshire. They hadn't come to London with the family primarily because of the cost; after his recent windfall, he'd toyed with the idea of sending for them, but at fourteen and thirteen, they were supposed to be attending their lessons. Penelope would be, her nose buried in some tome, but on a day like this, Portia would be out with his prize pack of hounds. If they'd been here, at this party, he'd have been forced to keep a strict eye on them both — and endure their incessant and often pointed teasing. Just as well those two sharp-eyed nuisances were safely far away.
'Luc?'
Amelia's voice drew him back to Merton; he blinked, and saw her silhouetted against the glare of the sunlight washing over the lawns. She was wearing a thin muslin gown, perfect for the warm day; the bright light behind her turned the fabric translucent, revealing the shapely curve of one breast, the indentation of her waist made all the more definite by the delectable swell of her hips, followed by the long, slender lines of her legs.
He had to draw breath before he succeeded in dragging his gaze back up to her face. She tilted her head, studying him, a light smile on her lips. She gestured with a plate. 'Come and eat.'
With a nod, he got to his feet — slowly — using the instant to shackle his hunger, sudden, rampant, unexpectedly vital. He hadn't realized it had grown to this extent, to the point where its spurs had real bite, driving him to seize.
He joined her; to her right lay the open doors to a dining parlor where a feast was spread. Many of the company were filling their plates, chattering incessantly; others, plates in their hands, were heading out to the chairs and tables assembled on the lawn.
Relieving Amelia of the plate, he met her gaze, blue eyes wondering. With his other hand, he caught her fingers, raised them and pressed his lips to the tips. Let her, but only her, see the real nature of his hunger in his eyes.
Hers widened. Before she could say anything, he lowered her hand, and turned her to the table. 'So what's the most delectable delight?'
Her lips twitched, but she calmly informed him the stuffed vine leaves were particularly good.
They filled their plates, then joined the others on the lawns. The next hour sped by in easy converse. Good company, excellent food, fine wine, and a bright summer day; there were no jealousies or tensions in the group — they all relaxed and enjoyed the occasion.
Eventually, their appetite for food sated, the younger crew — all bar the older ladies, Luc, Amelia, and Reggie — decided on an expedition to the nearby river. A walk through the gardens joined a country path to the riverbank; Simon, Heather, Eliza, and Angelica all knew the way. The party rose in a flurry of pastel muslin flounces and frilled parasols, the young gentlemen eagerly assisting.
'No need to rush,' Louise advised them. 'We've hours before we need to leave.'
Smiling, Minerva nodded her own permission.
Most set off in close file through the gardens; Heather and Eliza descended on Reggie.
'Do come along — we want to hear all about Lady Moffat's wig.'
'Did it really fly off at Ascot?'
Always ready to gossip, Reggie allowed himself to be led away.
Luc raised a brow at Amelia. 'Shall we?'
She raised a brow back, a speculative gleam in her eye. 'I suspect we should, don't you?'
He rose and drew out her chair. Neither of them had any intention of walking as far as the river, yet with every evidence of reluctantly doing their duty and watching over their juniors — who in this company needed no watching — they ambled, side by side, in the group's wake.
They left the lawns behind; when the gardens hid the house from view, Luc paused on a crest in the walk. Ahead, the others straggled in groups of three and four, stretching away toward the golden fields and the distant green ribbon of the river.
Simon's voice reached them; he and Angelica were debating the likelihood of again meeting a family of fierce ducks encountered on their last visit.
Luc glanced at Amelia, waiting beside him. 'Do you want to see the river, complete with ducks?'
Her lips curved. 'I've seen it all before.'
'In that case, which way is the orchard? Maybe we can identify the tree I fell out of on my last visit?'
She waved to another path, leading to the left a little way along. 'At the very least, the plums will be ripe.'
He stepped off the main walk in her wake. 'It isn't plums I'm thinking of tasting.'
She threw him a haughty, challenging glance, and forged on.
He smiled, and followed.
The orchard was a seducer's delight — large old trees heavily in leaf surrounded by a high stone wall, it was far enough from the house to ensure privacy, uphill and far enough from the path to the river to make it highly unlikely any of the others would come that way.
Once beneath the trees, they were all but invisible to anyone outside the orchard. Amelia had been right; the plums were ripe. Reaching up, Luc plucked a plump one. He saw Amelia glance his way; he handed it to her, then searched and found another for himself.
'Hmm — delicious.'
He looked at Amelia as he bit in; she was right again — the sun-warmed fruit was heavenly. Eyes closed in appreciation, she swallowed; red plum juice stained her lips.
Opening her eyes, she took another bite. The juice overran her lip, one drop trickling down from the corner.
He reached out and caught the drop on his fingertip. She blinked, focused — then leaned forward and took the tip of his finger between her lips, and sucked lightly.
His lungs — all of him — seized; for one instant, he was blind. Then he blinked, hauled in a breath, managed to lower his hand — and saw, beyond her, the orchard's crowning glory, at least for their purpose.
A small summerhouse, it had clearly been placed in the center of the orchard to capitalize on the privacy. The orchard was on a slope, so the summerhouse had views over the distant fields and river, but the trees all around ensured no one could see in.
Many of Merton's villas had been built by gentlemen for their mistresses; Luc was only too ready to exploit someone else's good planning, especially as he doubted he could keep his hands off his fair companion for much longer, and although the grass beneath the trees grew lush and thick, and little fruit had thus far fallen, grass stains on a lady's gown was a telltale sign.
He gestured to the summerhouse. He didn't have to say anything — she was as eager as he. Turning, she led the way. Lifting her skirts, she climbed the three shallow steps, then smiled and went forward, swinging around to sit on the heavily padded sofa placed to enjoy the view.
She looked up at him, a gentle curve to her lips, a questioning, challenging lift to her brows. He paused in the archway for only a second, then strolled forward and joined her.
Not as she'd been expecting. He didn't sit beside her, but placed one knee on the cushions, leaned over her and, one hand framing her face, tipping it up, set his lips to hers.
He was in no mood for polite playing, for pretending to a distance that no longer existed between them. One thing their shared kisses over the past five days had wrought was the dropping of certain barriers; her lips, and she, were his whenever he wished. He knew it; so did she.
She responded ardently, as she always did. Her lips parted beneath his, inviting him in, welcoming and warm. She tasted of plum, rich and sweet; he plundered and drank, easing down to the cushions, his hip beside hers.
Her arms twining about his neck, she leaned back against the cushioned arm, back against the arm he slid around her. They were both hungry, frustratingly starved; there was no reason they couldn't now feast.
For long moments they did simply that, appeasing the appetites evoked but left unfulfilled through the
