“That’s a brilliant solution,” Mia said with relief. “Charlie will never go to London, and they needn’t encounter each other.”
Vander’s brows drew together. “Why would you say that? Of course, Charlie will visit the townhouse. But believe me, Nottle will never say an untoward word about your nephew again, upstairs or downstairs. He knows full well that he will leave without a letter of recommendation if I hear a whisper.”
“Excellent!” Mia said, giving him a beaming smile. “I try to surround Charlie with positive influences at all times. He can learn about the world’s cruelties when he’s older.”
“‘When he’s older,’” Vander echoed. “How much older?”
“Twenty, perhaps? As long as I can possibly shield him. And now he has you as well!”
“No, he hasn’t,” Vander said flatly.
Mia’s heart fell to her feet. Vander was forced into marriage; he was hardly likely to take on the role of guardian with any sort of enthusiasm. “Of course, I understand. If you’ll excuse me, Duke, I shall return to the house.”
“You haven’t understood me.”
“Yes, I have,” she said. “Do you think that you’re the first who found Charlie too much of a burden?”
“I only meant that I will not join you in coddling your nephew.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “I understand. I’ll return to the house now.” She had had all the marital conversation she could put up with. Besides, she could feel the heat of his leg through the skirts of her riding habit and it muddled her brain.
With one swift movement, Vander dropped both his and her reins, caught her around the waist, lifted her from her sidesaddle, and pulled her up and over until she was seated in front of him.
Mia gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He looked at her silently, and then his mouth came to hers, the kiss open-mouthed, as if they were speaking to each other. Her right side was plastered against Vander’s chest and he had one of his hands tangled in her hair, and his tongue . . .
Feeling swept through her body, crashing into her like a thunderstorm.
The way two tongues met . . . it was carnal. She had clutched his coat, certain she was about to fall; now her fingers curled into thick, soft hair.
Another moment, and parts of her body were hotter than others. A sound like a growl came from Vander’s throat. Mia responded as if a piece of silk were being drawn across her naked body.
She pressed even closer and Vander’s grasp tightened. Mia melted against him as if she had no bones. As if he could do whatever he wished to her.
Then he stopped. “Any interest in requesting one of those allotted nights?” he asked, his eyes impenetrable.
It took her a moment but she croaked, “Request? Don’t you mean that I should beg for a night? Never.”
With one swift movement, he deposited her back in her saddle. It was lucky that Lancelot’s back was broad, because she might have toppled straight off the other side. Her knees felt wobbly.
No matter how wonderfully Vander kissed, there was nothing particularly interesting about him.
If she told herself that enough times, she might come to believe it. She looked up at Vander again, and opened her mouth to say as much, but somehow everything had changed again.
When he had tossed her back onto Lancelot’s back, her skirt had caught around her knees, and now her legs—clad in pale pink silk stockings—were exposed right up to her thighs, and creamy flesh above that. Vander’s eyes were smoldering, as if he wanted not just to kiss her, but to do something truly scandalous. Heat surged up her middle as she pulled her skirts back down.
“Hello, hello!” A deep voice broke the moment as effectively as a rock might smash a window. “Who have we here? Well, if it isn’t the newlyweds, having a little tête-à-tête.”
“Hello, Chuffy,” Mia said, managing a smile.
The muscle was working in Vander’s jaw again. Mia felt a perverse stab of satisfaction.