Page 65 of An Innocent Bride for the Duke

“Do not be afraid,” he said in a low voice. “You are safe with me, Louisa. We shall have a few minutes of privacy here, at least.”

Louisa pressed her face into his neck and breathed in the smell of his skin, her blood rushing in her veins as though his cologne was some powerful and volatile medicinal compound. How did he have this effect on her? It only seemed to be growing stronger.

In the shadow of the bushes, Benedict set Louisa on her feet and immediately enfolded her in his arms. As she breathed his name, he kissed her, gently but at length, his hand caressing her hair, already partly fallen from their vigorous riding.

“Louisa,” Benedict said her name softly, gazing on her face with an intensity of longing that melted her very core. “Do you know how beautiful you are? Do you know how much I want you?”

Standing on her toes Louisa reached up to draw down his lips to hers again and kissed him in response. Benedict’s tongue sought hers and one of his hands cupped her breast in the form-fitting riding habit which covered her tightly to the neck.

“How can it be wrong to kiss you?” Louisa gasped between their kisses. “It feels too right to ever be wrong. Oh, kiss me again, Benedict!”

“Kissing leads to other pleasures,” her told her, although complying repeatedly with her demand, “and other pleasures… have consequences…. That is the real danger… of kissing.”

“But we can kiss without…consequences,” thought Louisa aloud, assuming that he was referring to the risk of getting her with child. “Can’t we? As long as we do not get carried away.”

“You have great faith in my self-control, Louisa,” Benedict laughed, despite the hunger of his seeking lips and caressive hands. “Far more than I have myself. That night in the library, I would have claimed you fully, if you had allowed me. You could have gone to the altar carrying my child.”

“Yes, I do have faith in you,” Louisa admitted, his words thrilling as much as shocking her, and certainly not warning her off. “You have never taken advantage of how little experience I have. I do not believe you would.”

“You do not believe that all men are wicked lustful beasts, do you?” asked Benedict, his expression such a compelling mixture of desire and tenderness as Louisa shook her head.

“I believe that what we both feel is natural, not wicked,” Louisa told him, regretting that the riding habit covered so much of her body and fastened so very securely. “I want you to touch me.”

“Yes, exactly,” he exclaimed at her words and then continued to press kisses on her lips, face and neck. “If a beautiful woman… who will soon be mine …wishes for my touch, what harm is really done?”

Louisa sighed and gasped her agreement as Benedict’s hand caressed the shape of her bottom through the riding habit, so close to the secret places that were throbbing almost painfully for him.

“Oh God, Benedict,” she whimpered into his neck, burying her face there again, until he took it in his hands and kissed her lips. “I never knew it could feel like this to be touched by someone.”

“Louisa, can you trust me to show you something very safe and very, very sweet?” Benedict asked, as he peppered her face with small kisses. “While your present attire makes it impossible for me cover your breasts in kisses as I long for, there are other, even greater pleasures I could give you…”

Drawing up one of Louisa’s legs and her skirt with it against his leg, Benedict stroked her stockinged knee and then slid his hand slowly upwards before pausing and looking into her eyes. Aware that she was abandoning long-learned lessons in propriety and proper conduct, Louisa nodded with trembling limbs.

“I trust that you will keep me safe,” she said, as if reciting an article of faith.

“I promise,” Benedict returned, his half-closed eyes glancing down at his hand on her semi-bared leg and his breathing slightly ragged.

“Oh!”

Louisa inhaled sharply and clung to Benedict’s torso as his fingers found and caressed the top of her gartered stocking and then ventured beyond.

“Your skin is like the smoothest, warmest silk,” he murmured into her ear, his tongue flickering there as his hand caressed her thighs and Louisa’s breath caught and strained in her lungs. “When you are mine, I shall kiss every inch of you…”

“Oh Benedict,” she sighed back. “I feel as though I am yours.”

“Yes,” he replied, satisfaction in his voice as he kissed Louisa’s lips again. “So very nearly my wife, Louisa, so very close…”

Louisa gave a sharp cry as his fingertips brushed lightly against the dark-gold curls at the apex of her thighs. Once, twice, three times, and with no more pressure than a butterfly’s wing, accustoming her to his hand in such intimate contact. Still, the sensation of that slight touch was so strong that she might have fallen if not for his strong arms about her.

Then, his fingertips probed further, seeking and finding the slippery, swollen and exquisitely sensitive folds of her womanhood. Louisa did not know how loud her moans would have been if Benedict’s mouth had not borne down upon hers and stopped the sound in her throat. His fingers explored the whole length and condition of her slit as his tongue explored her mouth.

“How lovely you are, Louisa,” Benedict told her with gruff tenderness as he paused in his kisses, his hand continuing its most improper actions between her thighs. “Perfectly ripe and ready for pleasure…”

He gently rubbed the swollen button at the top of Louisa’s slit and something like a rill of starlight seemed to flow through her from his touch.

“Oh, God!” she whispered hoarsely and then lost all speech as one of his fingers actually slid inside her slit, his thumb taking over the task of slowly but repeatedly caressing that throbbing nub of flesh.

“Your womanhood feels like soft, wet velvet,” Benedict told her in low, almost growling tones, “so moist and luscious and inviting…”