If Samantha had any sense left in her body, she would shove Mr. Kendall off her immediately and send him away. As it was, he had kissed her completely senseless, and she could hardly remember her own name just then. Good heavens! His mouth, his hands, the hardness of his body against hers—it was a sensation like she’d never felt before in her entire life. Though she certainly hoped this wasn’t the last time she’d feel it.
Just now, his mouth was toying with her nipple while his hand caressed the sensitive flesh of her side. At once she wondered how far things might go and if she should stop him. She might have done if she felt any reservations at all, but in this moment, she had none. Her only thought was that she never wanted this to end.
“I can stop if you want me to,” Mr. Kendall—Chad—said, as if reading her thoughts. Though, by the sound of his voice, it wouldn’t be a terribly easy thing for him to do.
She grabbed him about the neck and pulled his lips to hers. She kissed him like a blasted wanton, and then said, “Never. I never, ever want you to stop.”
And with that, he kissed her more thoroughly, more deeply than she ever imagined she could be kissed, all while divesting himself of his trousers. Sam wanted to see more of him, and so she tugged and pulled at his cravat until it loosened enough to remove it from around his neck. The shirt was next, finally leaving him bare to her. Sam had never seen a man without a shirt—not even her brothers—and the sight was more than arousing. It was intoxicating. Her eyes couldn’t get their fill of him. She rather thought that if she had to choose only one man to look at for the rest of her life, Chad would be the one she’d most like for the position. All long and lean with finely sculpted muscles rippling down his arms and his torso, his chest hard and firm with a fine dusting of hair that matched what was on his head.
Sam reached up to touch the springy curls and then splayed her hand across his chest. “Goodness,” she breathed. This was madness, and she’d be ruined before it was all over—goodness, she was practically ruined already! Yet, she couldn’t find the will to stop it.
When he pressed himself to her again, she could feel his manhood against her belly, and it ignited something fierce and desperate within her. She knew all about that part of a man’s anatomy, but she’d always thought it rather odd, bizarre. And yet, with it pressing against her, it seemed there was only one, natural thing to do with it, and she wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against her ear, but it was clear he’d never be able to. And she didn’t want him to.
“I won’t,” she moaned back, and that must have been all he needed to hear, for he lifted up a bit and moved so he teased at her opening. “My God!” It was pleasure like she’d never known.
Everything felt wet and so slick as he inched his way inside of her, stretching her and pleasuring her until—
She winced as he filled her to the hilt. The pain was a bit sharp and shocking, but only for a moment, and then she needed more. She needed to know what it was she was reaching for. This unknown treasure that seemed so close and yet just out of reach.
He pressed and retreated, pulling back until he was almost out of her completely, before forging forth again. Over and over he did this, driving her to the brink of madness, and then, just when she thought this could go on forever—and in some ways wished it would—he pressed against her, moving only slightly back and forth. Finding the part of her that would make her shatter.
She cried out with the release, with the sheer ecstasy of it all. Her mind oblivious to all but the blinding pleasure that coursed through her body. And then, when he tensed and pulled her more tightly against him, grunting and growling with his own release, it felt as if another wave of delirium washed over her.
They both calmed and then his body relaxed atop her, warm and comforting, and purely right, even if what they’d just done was far from pure or right.
“May I ask you a question?” she ventured into the silence.
“Mmm?” was his muffled response.
“Is that the first time you’ve ever made love to a woman with orange hair?”
His head popped up to see if she was joking or not, and Sam burst into giggles at the look of shock on his face. When he saw she was only teasing, he too began to laugh.
“You are quite the little vixen, aren’t you?” he said, and then he set about to tickling her on her sensitive parts.
“Don’t!” she squealed, laughing and thinking how very wonderful this moment was.
That was, until there came a knock at the door.
“Samantha?”
Sam gasped as the panic settled into her belly. “It’s my mother!” she hissed, at which point Chad disappeared over the edge of the bed, stealing the counterpane and throwing it over himself. “Yes, Mother?” she called back, trying to sound as normal as possible while wondering where Chad’s clothes and boots had ended up.
If Mother found him there, they’d have to be married. There would be no way out of it. Not that Sam wanted out, but she didn’t know anything about him. Did he have enough money to care for them both? Did he want to have children? Of course, that seemed like a silly question now, since she could most certainly already be in the family way after this evening.
But just as important, what would her family say? They’d always made it very clear that they wanted advantageous matches for their daughters. Would she be ostracized if she married a mere mister? The thought of never seeing her family again weighed heavily alongside marrying a man she was quite possibly in love with.
Mother peeked through the door. “Are you not asleep yet?” she asked.
“I was just about when you knocked.” She pulled the bedclothes up to her neck.
“You will freeze to death without your counterpane,” Mother said, marching to the bed.
With every step she took, Sam panicked just a little more. “I’m hot!” she cried, praying to stop the woman in her tracks. “I threw it off just a few minutes ago. The fire is rather robust this evening.”
Mother shook her head as if she couldn’t understand how she could be warm, and indeed, she was warm for an entirely different reason than she’d given.
“Your hair is still orange,” she pointed out as she sat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side of where Chad lay suffocating beneath the counterpane. “I cannot believe you allowed that woman to sell you that silly potion. You should have known better. And now we must hope it washes out before the season begins. If I thought your natural color was a deterrent for gentlemen, well…let us hope someone cares more about your dowry than your hair color.”
It was the same speech she’d already received several times over the last two days, so it didn’t sting quite as much as it had the first time. Not that it was surprising, but one hoped that one’s mother might have a little sympathy and understanding now and again. But not Lady Widcombe. Never Lady Widcombe.
“Well,” she stood to her full height again and smoothed her gown. “I shall let you sleep. Goodnight, Samantha.”
“Goodnight, Mother,” Sam mumbled back, and then breathed the greatest sigh of relief she’d ever released when the door to her chamber shut behind her mother. Then she scrambled to the edge of the bed and looked over. “Chad? Are you still alive?” she whispered.
The counterpane went flying to reveal a very naked, very red, and very sweaty Chad Kendall. Sam’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle her giggle.
“I am so very sorry,” she said, and then sobered when he stood to his feet, his body, in all its glory, mere inches from her.
“You think it’s funny, do you?”
She came to her knees. “I think I’m glad she came in when she did and not a minute earlier.”
“Indeed.”
He took a step toward her and then gathered her against him. He was hard again, and she was throbbing, aching to know him a second time. He bent his head to kiss her and the world started to swirl.
“I should go,” he whispered, pulling away. “And tomorrow, I shall ask for your hand.” Sam opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I’ll not let you spend any longer with a woman who treats you as she does.” He glanced disdainfully toward the door, and her heart swelled.
“You are kind,” she said softly. “But it’s not so bad. I’m used to it by now.”
“Used to it or not, I’m asking for your hand.”
“But you heard her—”
“Loud and clear. Besides,” he glanced at her belly as he pulled his pants on and tucked his shirt into them, “you could be carrying my babe.” Then he leaned over and kissed her one last time before removing himself from her room.