She wound her arms about his neck and invited his lips back to hers. She pressed against him, letting her body say that for which she could not yet brave the words to speak. She tossed back her head and let him trail glorious kisses down her neck, allowing the vee of her dressing gown to dip open until it revealed more than it concealed of her naked form beneath.
Brandon groaned against her, bending to lave her breasts with his hot tongue, and she knew the pleasure was mutual. She felt his fingers tremble as his hands rose to push back the robe from her shoulders. She let the silk slither into a pool at her feet and she let his eyes feast upon her utterly exposed body.
Standing before him, naked, knowing where they were headed, was infinitely more intimate than the spontaneous act between them a few nights ago. This was premeditated.
She felt no shame in her nakedness, or any coveting lust in Brandon’s gaze, although it might have been better for her heart if she had. Instead, the look he gave her was full of sincere reverence. At least, in this moment, she was cherished. With that realisation, all barriers vanished.
‘Undress me,’ Brandon commanded in a hoarse voice filled with awe.
Nora knew what he asked. This was the point of no return. If she disrobed him, they would spend the night consummating the relationship in the most intimate, most complete of ways. There could be no excuses of haste and impulsiveness.
This act was deliberate. As such, it could not be brushed off as a game, an experiment, come the morning. This act would serve to seal an unspoken contract between them and it would bring with it binding implications.
She held his gaze as if she could signal with her eyes her understanding and acceptance of the significance of what they were about to do. The intensity of his stare indicated he understood as well. And he accepted.
‘Undress me, Nora,’ he repeated, extending the unwritten contract again. He wanted her and he fully comprehended what the price of wanting her meant.
‘Patience, Brandon.’ Nora smiled, reaching for the placard of buttons on his ruined waistcoat. Now that the decision had been made, she was free, her passions could be hers alone tonight. There would be no worries about manipulation and hidden agendas. Just pleasure.
‘Brandon. I like the sound of that. I haven’t been simply Brandon for a long time.’ His breath caught as she slid back the waistcoat and the panels of his dirty white shirt, thumbing his nipples with her nails.
Her elation increased. He understood! Although it was for entirely different reasons, he too longed to simply be himself, to lay aside the strain of the earldom, of life as a peer of the realm, and to just be.
She bent to suckle him in imitation of his earlier overture. Her hands moved lower to release the fastenings of his trousers. She paused long enough for Brandon to pull off his boots and kick free of his clothes.
Naked and in the obvious throes of full arousal, Brandon held out his hand to her. ‘Come to bed with me, Nora.’
She did not miss the import of his words, all designed to set the rhythm of partnership this night. There would be no leading and following. There would be mutual explorations. They would learn each other’s bodies together with no artifice between them, and at the end of it would be completion.
Chapter Fourteen
The sun had been up for a scant hour when the door to Brandon’s study slammed open and bounced off the mahogany panelling of the wall.
Brandon looked up from the papers spread before him on the desk, startled by the intrusion. Jack filled the room, his elaborate cape swirling about his knees in fair imitation of a whirlwind. ‘What have you done? I’ve been away from your side for a mere twelve hours and now the village is on fire with news of your engagement. I hope you haven’t done anything foolish.’
Brandon leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head while he studied his friend’s chagrin. Calmly, he replied, ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this early in the morning before, Jack. Sit down and settle yourself. You look as if you’ve been up all night.’ Brandon gestured to a chair and rang for coffee.
‘If I’ve been up all night, it’s your fault. I spent the wee hours in the public house, listening to the latest scandal brewing on your behalf. First, there were harrowing tales of The Cat hauling you out of the dinner party up in Cheetham as a hostage. Then Witherspoon and his friends launched into stories of your delectable betrothed who was beside herself with worry over your wounds.’ Jack gave a wry smile. ‘What wounds would those be?’
‘Self-inflicted.’ Brandon held up his cleanly bandaged hand.
‘It didn’t take me long to add up all the bits and deduce that the supposed intended was none other than The Cat. Deuce take it, Brandon, I’ve heard politics make for the most unusual bedfellows, but this is beyond the pale.’
Jack might have gone on with his scolding, but a footman entered with a tray of morning coffee and toast.
Brandon gathered his thoughts against Jack’s attack. Jack was only the first of many visitors who would demand explanations. He’d left Nora sleeping peacefully more than an hour ago in order to organise his defences, beginning with a missive to Manchester’s leading dressmaker.
Jack voiced the most pressing issue facing him as the servants left the room. ‘Now that you’ve got her, what are you going to do with her?’ Jack asked over the rim of his coffee cup.
‘I am going to play out the ruse and present her as my intended. It will buy some time until everything settles down.’ Brandon laid out the plan that had been taking shape in his head. ‘It’s the only way I can think of to get what I want.’
Jack gave a disbelieving guffaw. ‘If it were me voicing those sentiments, I’d know exactly how self-serving that plan was. Humour me, Brandon, and tell me what it is that you want? Somehow I don’t think the answer will be the mill progressing.’
‘I want to keep her safe. If she goes back to The Grange, she’ll try something else just as dangerous as that performance she gave last night at St John’s.’
‘And you worry that you might not be there to rescue her?’ Jack’s flippant tone softened. ‘You can’t keep her, you know that, don’t you? The Cat’s as wild as they come.’
‘Not all of us are as jaded as you, Jack. It’s not a character flaw to be less cynical.’
‘Still, it’s my job as your friend to disabuse you of any foolish notions you might harbour about taming The Cat. It’s what you called me up here for,’ Jack reminded him.
He gave Brandon a half-grin. ‘But I can see my preaching falls on deaf ears. You’ve got that “morning after” glow about you.’ Jack rose and put down his cup. ‘I’ll leave you to play house with your supposed betrothed and let your ruse run its course.’
Brandon drew a deep breath. ‘That’s another thing, Jack. I am not sure I want to see the ruse end.’
‘Well, it has to eventually, unless you actually—’ Jack broke off the sentence. Brandon was rewarded with a view of Jack at his most nonplussed, a feat few accomplished. ‘Are you suggesting you would make the relationship more permanent in nature? Make The Cat your Countess?’ Jack managed to get out when the initial shock passed.
‘Yes, my Countess. I have not forgotten,’ Brandon said placidly. ‘It is time I marry and look to my nursery.’
Jack resumed his seat, scrubbing at his face with his hands. ‘Yes, yes, of course it’s time to spring the parson’s mousetrap and all that. We’re getting no younger, but why couldn’t you find a nice débutante?’
Brandon hooted with disbelief. ‘A nice débutante? Listen to yourself, Jack. I could no more settle for a nice, white-gowned virgin half my age than you could. Just because I must marry to beget