Part 28 (2/2)
The difference betwixt women and men is this: if they're in love, one will tell ye what ye want t' hear, the other will do it.
OLD WOMAN NORA FROM LOCH LOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD EVENING.
G regor smiled down at Venetia. ”Mind if I join you? You look quite comfortable there.” And d.a.m.ned s.e.xy, too. He'd plainly seen the outline of her legs through her night rail as she'd held them to the fire, and it almost stopped him in his tracks. By G.o.d, but she had beautiful legs, curvy and sensual. He wanted to trace their length with his hands, rub his cheek over the curve of her hip- His body tightened uncomfortably. Stop thinking like that, or you won't be able to talk.
Her gaze flickered to the balcony doors and back, her brows knitted in confusion. ”My balcony doesn't connect to yours.”
”I jumped.” He grinned at the flash of concern he saw in her eyes. ”At dinner, your grandmother informed me that you'd be moving to the room beside mine. She also mentioned how close my balcony was to yours; so close that even an old lady like herself could leap between the two without the least effort.”
Venetia's cheeks heated and she pulled her nightgown closer. ”Grandmama is anything but subtle.”
”Almost as subtle as your mother.”
”Oh, no! Not Mama, too.”
Gregor paused beside a small table to pick up a silver tray holding a cut crystal decanter and matching gla.s.ses and set it on the table before Venetia. ”Your mother was concerned I might be afraid of heights. She told me that if she were thinking of jumping between the balconies and couldn't bring herself to make the leap, it might be possible to pick the lock on the connecting door with, say, a cravat pin.”
Venetia blushed. ”I'm surprised they aren't in here now, throwing rose petals before you as you walk.”
”I would never countenance petal tossing. Too showy.” He took the chair opposite hers, trying to keep his eyes from wandering, which was d.a.m.nably difficult, as she was wearing the most intriguing night rail. ”How did your grandmother get you to move to this suite?”
”She 'accidentally' spilled tea on my bed.” Venetia sent him a look from under her lashes. ”Gregor, it...it would be best if you would go.”
”Do you wish me to?” He held his breath, not wanting her to see how much her answer meant.
”No.” The word came out in a breath, as if she could no longer hold it. Her gaze traveled over him, lingering on his open s.h.i.+rt. She closed her eyes, then opened them with a rueful smile. ”I'm sorry for staring. It's just that I'm tired and...” She gestured lamely.
He laughed softly at her blush. ”I've never seen you wear so little...or look so lovely.”
Her cheeks were truly flaming now. She crossed her arms over her chest. ”This is Mama's night rail. Mine isn't as revealing.”
”More's the pity.” He wanted to lift her into his lap and sit with her sweetly rounded behind nestled against him. His manhood stirred at the thought. Not yet, he told himself. He'd come to see what could be done to persuade her to marry him. Keep focused, he told himself.
He lifted the decanter and filled a gla.s.s, then handed it to her before pouring one for himself. He took a sip and grimaced.
She sipped a bit herself. ”I've never had such delightful sherry.”
He set his gla.s.s back on the table. ”I prefer my sherry dry.” He let his gaze drift over her delicious form. ”It's my women I like sweet.”
Delicious color raced over her face and neck, and he burned to follow it with his lips.
She took a nervous gulp of the sherry.
Gregor lifted his brows when he saw the empty gla.s.s. ”Would you like some more?”
She nodded thankfully. ”Yes, please.”
He poured her half a gla.s.s.
Venetia frowned. ”There's plenty more in the decanter.”
”I don't wish you to wake up with a headache, which will happen if you keep gulping it down like that.” ”I am not gulping,” she said in a lofty voice. ”I was savoring it quickly. That is a different thing altogether.”
”I see,” he agreed gravely. He could tell from the glitter in her eyes that she was already a bit bosky from the sherry. A true gentleman would have refused to serve her more, but Gregor couldn't help but think that if she was relaxed and warmed by a gla.s.s or two of sherry, she might be more willing to listen to his proposal. He was determined to make it again, only this time, he'd do it right.
He'd realized one thing during the long ride here and that was that Venetia was too important to him for him to merely accept her refusal. ”Very well, then. You may have more.” He filled her gla.s.s to the top. ”But don't blame me if you awaken with a headache.”
Like a rainbow bursting from a storm-dark sky, she smiled. ”Thank you. It's nice that we're talking again.”
It was nice. ”I've missed you.” The words were past his lips before he knew that he'd said them.
”I've missed you, too.” She set the gla.s.s down and leaned forward, the thin night rail stretched over her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. ”Gregor, I don't know what's happened to us, but I want things to return to the way they used to be.” She frowned, her gaze locked with his. ”I don't know if that's possible, but now I wonder if perhaps...”
He lifted his brows. ”Perhaps?”
She took a fortifying drink, her lips moist from the sherry. ”Gregor, I have been thinking that perhaps you had the right idea about exploring this attraction between us.” She met his eyes and whispered, ”It's not going away. I-I find myself thinking about you and...I still want you.”
His hand tightened about his gla.s.s. This was what he'd wanted and hoped for. He sat still, afraid that any movement, any word might ruin this moment, yet his heart thumped against his ribs like a wild animal in a cage.
Still he couldn't help but let his hungry gaze roam over her.
If there was one part of a woman's body that Gregor loved, it was her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He loved them full and rich, creamy white with large, rose-colored areolas. As Venetia leaned forward, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were clearly outlined, her erect nipples pressing against the thin material. Gregor heard her voice and knew he needed to listen, for he was almost certain he agreed with what she was saying. But all he could do was stare at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, wondering...imagining...
Venetia gasped and crossed her arms over her chest, standing uncertainly. ”Gregor, I-”
He grinned. The thin lawn of her night rail was like gauze. Her arms might be covering her lovely b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but the rest of her body was fully outlined for his pleasure.
She was all woman, his Venetia. Her calves were pleasingly plump, just the size to fill a man's hands. Her sweetly curved hips begged to be held, explored, enticing a man to pa.s.sion. Her hair fell in long, sweeping curls around her shoulders, her rounded arms dimpled and womanly. G.o.d, she was beautiful!
She stomped one foot, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bouncing at the movement. ”Gregor, say something! Were you even listening to me?”
Gregor realized she was growing angry with his lack of response. If only she knew how much he was responding to her. Like a banked volcano, he boiled beneath the surface. Any movement might send his thinly held control flying.
”Oh! Never mind!” She whirled away, her night rail s.h.i.+fting at her hips, tugging across her thighs, and lifting at her ankles.
One thought tore through the red mist of l.u.s.t. She was leaving, and he had to stop her.
The next moment, he was standing, cradling her in his arms.
She blinked up at him, shock and uncertainty flas.h.i.+ng across her face, turning her silver eyes to dark gray. ”What-what are you doing?”
He looked into her eyes, and suddenly he knew this was right. That this moment was meant to be. ”I am making your grandmother's dreams come true.”
Excitement and nervousness warred in her eyes as he bent to capture her lips.
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