Free Rendezvous by Amanda Quick

gown.
    "My lord—" The words were a bare whisper on her lips.
    "Harry," he corrected again, kissing the rosy nipple he had been caressing with his thumb. Slowly he drew the rose silk up the length of her legs to her knees, revealing her delicately striped stockings.
    "Harry, please, I must tell you something. Something important. I would not have you wed me and then feel yourself deceived."
    He went very still as an icy fire seized his gut. "What is it you would have me know, Augusta? Have you lain with some other man?"
    She blinked, uncomprehending for an instant. And then her cheeks were suffused with a warm blush. "Good heavens, no, my lord. That is not what I wanted to talk about at all."
    "Excellent." Harry smiled faintly as relief and exultation shot through him. Of course she had not been with anyone else. All his instincts had told him that weeks ago. Still, it was good to have it confirmed. One less problem to concern him, he thought, not without some satisfaction. There was no lover from the past with which to contend. Augusta would belong to him completely.
    "The thing is, Harry," Augusta continued very earnestly, "I fear I will make you a very bad wife. I tried to explain to you the other night when you found me in Enfield's library that I do not consider myself bound by the normal strictures of Society. You must remember I am a Northumberland Ballinger. I am not at all angelic in the manner of my cousin. I care not for the proprieties and you have made it quite clear that you want a very proper sort of wife."
    Harry inched the hem of her gown up a little higher on her legs. His fingers found the incredible softness of her inner thighs. "I think that with a little instruction you will make me a very proper sort of wife."
    "I am not at all certain of that, sir," she said, sounding desperate. "It is very hard to change one's temperament, you know."
    "I am not asking you to do that."
    "You are not?" she searched his face anxiously. "You actually like me the way I am?"
    "Very much." He kissed her shoulder. "There are, perhaps, one or two areas of concern to be addressed. But I am convinced that everything will work out and that you will make me an excellent countess."
    "I see." She bit her lip and clamped her legs together. "Harry, do you love me?"
    He sighed and stilled the movement of his hand on the inside of her thigh. "Augusta, I am aware that many modern young ladies such as yourself believe love is some mystical, unique sensation that descends like magic without any rational process or explanation. But I hold a different opinion entirely."
    "Of course." The disappointment in her eyes was clear. "I expect you do not believe in love at all, do you, my lord? You are a scholar, after all. A student of Aristotle and Plato and all those other terribly logical types. I must warn you, sir, that too much rational, logical thinking can seriously rot the brain."
    "I shall bear that in mind." He kissed her breast, delighting in the texture of her skin. God, she felt good. He could not remember the last time he had wanted a woman the way he wanted this one tonight.
    He was impatient now. His body was throbbing with desire and the faint, pungent scent of Augusta's arousal was enthralling him.
She wanted him
. Deliberately he urged her legs apart again and eased his fingers into her damp heat.
    Augusta cried out in shock and clutched at him. Her eyes widened with amazement. "
Harry
."
    "Do you like that, Augusta?" He trailed small kisses over her breast as he stroked his fingers across the soft plump petals that guarded her most intimate secrets.
    "I am not sure," she managed on a strangled gasp. "It feels quite strange. I do not know if—"
    The tall clock in the corner chimed the hour. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over Harry. He came to his senses with a sudden start.
    "Good God. What the devil am I doing?" Harry sat up abruptly and yanked Augusta's gown down to her ankles. "Look at the time. Lady