"Hmm. And no one mentioned there being something on the stairs?"
Clarissa shook her head, then realized he couldn't see and said, "No."
Adrian pondered, then asked, "What about the time you were almost run down by a carriage?"
"Oh." Clarissa sighed at the memory and then quickly explained. "I was bored to tears and heard Cook mention she was going to market. I wanted to pick out some fruit, so I went with her. She took my arm to walk me there. We stopped at a vegetable stall at the edge, and she let go of me to look at the vegetables. She let go of me for only a moment, but that was all it took. A heartbeat later someone bumped into me. I was not expecting it, and was startled off balance. My foot twisted on the cobblestones and I fell
forward onto my knees; then I heard a great commotion and glanced up to see a huge blur kicking out above me. A carriage had been coming. But the driver managed to stop just short of me, and the horses were apparently rearing." Her expression solemn, Clarissa added, "I was really very lucky. I have always been very lucky, I guess."
"Who was it that bumped into you?" Adrian asked.
She shook her head. "I do not know. Cook came rushing over and asked if I was all right, then started yelling at the driver because he was yelling at me, and then she hustled me home for Joan to change me and clean up my scrapes and went back to the market alone." She scowled. "I never did get my fruit."
"Hmm." He was silent for a moment. "Clarissa, earlier tonight, did you actually see this letter I supposedly sent you?"
She was sure he'd leaned closer on the bed. Clarissa could feel his breath on her ear, and it made her shiver. Clearing her throat, she answered, "Of course I saw it. The boy insisted he was to give it only to me. Joan had to fetch me from the ball to accept it."
"Did you read it?" he asked.
"No," Clarissa admitted, beginning to frown. "I could not read it properly. Joan had to read it for me."
Adrian considered that, then asked, "Do you still have the letter this boy supposedly brought?"
"Supposedly?" Clarissa asked. 'You keep saying that, but I saw the letter, Adrian. There is one."
'Yes, but you could not read it."
"Joan did." When he remained silent, Clarissa frowned. "What on earth are you thinking?"
"I do not know," Adrian admitted on a sigh. "Ffoulkes and Joan were nearby and the first to reach
you when you fell, and Cook was with you at the market. Yet no one seems to have bothered to find out what you tripped over, or who pushed you into the street."
"Bumped me. I was not pushed," Clarissa corrected. "And both times everyone was too busy ensuring I was all right to look into these things. I did not think of it either. And goodness, I am sure the staff hates me for all the accidents I have caused and all the times I unintentionally stepped on their toes or hit them with something without meaning to, but surely you are not suggesting my father's entire household wants me dead?"
"No. No, of course not," Adrian said quickly, then sighed. "Can you please just light a candle and find the letter?"
Clarissa hesitated, a little snort of laughter slipping out. "As if light would help me."
Shaking her head, she slid out of bed and began to make her way to her dressing table. Clarissa kept her hands out before her as she moved carefully forward, but still she found the table by stubbing her toe on one leg of it. Wincing, she bit back a curse not dissimilar to those Adrian had supplied earlier, and lowered her hands to find the tabletop. She had a vague recollection of Joan setting the letter on her dressing table once they'd reached the room. It must be here some-- Ah, Clarissa thought as her hand brushed against paper. Picking it up, she turned to head back to the bed.
Light suddenly erupted in the room. Clarissa froze halfway to the bed and blinked in it. Apparently Adrian had found the candle at her bedside. While she stood blinking, he turned from the table and moved to her. Clarissa held out the letter and waited as he read it.
"Well?" she asked finally, when enough time had passed for him to have read it.
"It says what you said it did, but 'tis not my handwriting," he explained. Then he muttered, "Of course it isn't; I knew I had not sent it."
"But then who did?" she asked. "The only people who know about us are your cousin and my maid . . . and Prudhomme."
"Prudhomme does know? You are sure of this?" Adrian asked sharply.
"Aye. He was walking in the gardens with Lydia the night you presented me with that picnic. They saw us kissing at the salon doors," Clarissa admitted. "So Lydia knows as well."
"I suspected Prudhomme knew," Adrian murmured, lifting his head. Clarissa knew he was looking at her. She was suddenly terribly aware that she stood in nothing but her nightgown. Clarissa could almost feel his gaze moving over her, and a little shiver trailed through her in reaction. She had the sudden urge to cross her arms over her chest, but resisted.
The silence drew out a long time; then Adrian spoke, his voice husky as he announced, "Clarissa, I am going to kiss you."
She breathed in, excitement rushing through her at the announcement, only to have it drain away when he recanted. "No. I am not."
"You are not?" Clarissa asked. Disappointment took the place of the anticipation coursing through her.
"This is all terribly improper." Adrian sounded distressed.
"But I should like you to kiss me," Clarissa admitted with a frown.
"Oh, please do not say that." Adrian almost groaned. "I am trying to be a gentleman."
"Do gentlemen not kiss ladies?" she asked with a small smile, then reminded him, 'You kissed me at Prudhomme's ball."
'Yes, but that was different," he assured her.
"Why?"
'You were not half-dressed and in your bedchamber."
"I could dress."
A soft laugh slipped from his lips, and Adrian suddenly leaned forward. Clarissa went still, her heart briefly stopping; then she melted into him as his lips moved across hers.
It seemed the heat and excitement of her response had not been because of the small bit of wine she'd had the night of Prudhomme's ball. She felt that same wild excitement now, and hadn't had a drop to drink.
Clarissa's body seemed to know just what to do, and molded itself to Adrian. Her hands crept around his neck to hold him close, and then his tongue intruded as it had before. This time she wasn't surprised by its sudden appearance. Instead of stiffening, she went weak in the knees, and would have slid to the ground if not for his arms tight around her.
Clarissa sighed into his mouth, moaning with pleasure. And in the next moment she gave a startled gasp as Adrian scooped her up and moved to sit on the end of the bed.
"I should not be doing this," he murmured against her cheek as he broke the kiss and let his lips travel to her neck and ear.
"No, we should not," Clarissa agreed, her hands sliding over his shoulders and upper chest as she tilted her head to give him better access.
"I am not showing you the proper respect." His words were breathed with regret, and Clarissa shuddered as tingles ran through her body, rushing all the way down to her toes. At that moment, respect seemed highly overrated. Certainly if this was disrespect, she seemed to like it. Perhaps she wasn't a proper lady after all.
"Tell me to stop," Adrian murmured, kissing the length of her throat.
Clarissa opened her mouth, then gasped as one of his hands closed over her breast.
"Oh," she breathed, arching into his touch. "Maybe ... maybe in a .. . Ohh." She sighed as he kneaded the soft flesh through her gown, and her body was assaulted by waves of alien sensation. Her muscles were all flexing and curling with excitement, and heat was pooling in her lower body. This was amazing.
"Maybe what?" Adrian asked, sounding a little out of breath.
"Maybe you should kiss me again," Clarissa gasped--though she was sure that hadn't been what she'd intended to say at all.
A growl slid from Adrian's lips, then they covered hers, and Clarissa slid her hands into
his hair, unable to keep from knotting them there as she opened her lips to receive him. Her body had suddenly come alive in a way that she'd never experienced. Whole parts of it, which she'd hardly been aware of, or had neglected as unseemly to notice, were making their presence known as she kissed him back.
Inexperienced as she was, there was the fear at the
back of Clarissa's mind that she didn't really have a clue what she was doing and might be doing it poorly or wrong; but that was eased when Adrian groaned at the back of his throat and his kiss became even more heated, more demanding. She must be doing something right--or at least passably--to elicit such a reaction, she decided vaguely, then felt the mattress against her back and realized he'd laid her down.
"Just a little," Adrian panted as he broke away again.
'Yes," Clarissa gasped, though she hadn't a clue what she was agreeing to. She didn't really care, so long as these feelings didn't stop.
"Just a little kissing and touching, and then I shall stop--I promise," Adrian said, and Clarissa understood what he meant and thought it a fine idea. Except for the stopping part. Clarissa didn't want this to ever end. She'd never felt so wonderful, so alive.
It wasn't until his mouth replaced his hand that Clarissa realized that he'd somehow gotten several buttons of her nightgown undone, and had tugged it off one shoulder to bare her breast. His warm lips closed around her nipple, and Clarissa nearly flew off the bed with surprise at the shocking charge sent through her body.
"Oh," she breathed, her legs shifting restlessly and her hands moving over his head, then shoulders. Then she caught her hands in his waistcoat and tugged. It took a moment for her pleasure-drugged mind to realize that wouldn't work, and she began to push to remove it instead, shoving the garment off his shoulders and down his arms as far as she could. Fortunately, her actions hampered his movements enough that he took over the task and removed the jacket for her.
Clarissa let her hands drift over the soft cloth of his shirt, clenching it in her fingers and dragging upward, eager to touch his naked flesh.
Adrian broke away and said, "No," but the word wasn't very firm-sounding. It was more of a plea. And when he shifted up to kiss her, Clarissa ignored his no and tugged his shirt the rest of the way out of his pants, sliding her hands underneath to move them curiously over the skin of his back.
Adrian groaned into her mouth, tangling his hand in her hair, his kiss becoming more forceful, his tongue thrusting with demand as his body ground against hers, pressing a hardness against the aching need between her legs. Clarissa shuddered in his arms, her nails digging slightly into his flesh as she pushed back, her legs parting of their own volition.
"Oh, God, Clarissa," Adrian breathed, pausing to press little kisses on her eyes, nose, cheek--basically anywhere he could find. "We have to stop."
"Oh, Adrian," Clarissa said, then stiffened and cried out as his hand slid between her legs and pressed her gown against the spot that was now aching so. Her attention was split between the pressure he was applying between her legs, and the kisses he was trailing down her throat and across her collarbone. She was tugging hard on his shirt, twisting it around his upper chest, and knew she was hampering him, but she wanted it off. She wanted to feel him.
"Tell me to stop," Adrian begged, pausing to rip his shirt up over his head before bending to again lick and nip and suckle at her breast.
"Oh," Clarissa gasped, her nails digging into his flesh. Her hips arched and her legs fell apart as he began to rub. "Oh, yes--please do not stop."
Adrian released a chuckle against her breast, and her body pulsed to the vibration. Then he left off and kissed her lips.
His hand slid from between her legs, and Clarissa moaned into his mouth in protest, but she stilled as he caught at her nightgown and began to draw it up until his hand could slip under the hem. Her legs quivered in anticipation as his touch glided up her thigh. They then locked instinctively around him as he reached her center once more, this time with no cloth to impede him.
Clarissa gasped again into his mouth, her body bucking then quaking with building tension and need. His fingers drifted over her damp, tender flesh.
"Just this. I will not make love to you, I promise," Adrian murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. "But I have to touch you and taste you."
'Yes, just touching," Clarissa agreed, ready to allow anything if he just did not stop. Her hands were drifting over his skin, her head twisting on the bed as his mouth trailed down again to find her breast. It stayed there only a moment, however, before he shifted and moved lower.
Clarissa's bliss was startled out of her, and she stiffened up like a board when he suddenly shifted to kneel between her legs, his mouth replacing his hand. Shock and horror were her first reactions, and she grabbed for his head, trying to pull him away.
"I do not.. .You should not... What--Adrian!" she said uncertainly, some of her protest dying away as his tongue, teeth, and mouth moved over her. Her body began to respond, despite her mind's reticence.
Letting go of his head, Clarissa grabbed for the bed, clutching at the sheets in desperation. Her world had
begun to rock. She was vaguely aware that her hips had taken on a mind of their own and were thrusting themselves upward, eagerly meeting his kisses and caresses; then Adrian shifted, forcing her legs still so they couldn't interfere with his actions.
"Oh!" Clarissa stared blindly up at the shadows the candlelight cast overhead, her entire focus on the feelings within her.
"Oh!" She now knew why there were so many babies in the world.
"Oh!" She thought Adrian was the cleverest man in England, perhaps the world.
"Oh!" She suddenly understood the design of the universe.
"Oh!" There definitely was a God. "Oh!" Was that smoke she smelled? Frowning, Clarissa blinked her eyes several times, trying to clear away some of the passion clinging stickily to her thoughts and slowing her brain. She inhaled again, deeply, and definitely smelled smoke. Her gaze shot to the candle Adrian had lit, but it seemed fine, one little circle of light in her hazy vision.
It must be my imagination, Clarissa thought vaguely, but she was having trouble thinking at all with Adrian doing what he was doing. Her legs were now trying to wrap themselves around his head, wholly uncaring of what she thought she smelled or where it might be coming from. Clarissa even realized that one of her hands had released the bedsheet and was tangled violently in his hair, urging him on as her body rode his caress.
Afraid she might be hurting him, Clarissa forced herself to release his hair and grabbed at the bed
again, but her hips still kept trying to thrust and twist, though they were helpless to do so against his hold. The tension in her was building to an unbearable level, and Clarissa's body was straining in response, her hands ripping at the sheets, her toes curled under, her head thrashing on the bed, her teeth clenched, wishing for something to bite--then she gasped in another breath and there was no mistaking the scent of smoke.
Clarissa stiffened, her head whipping around, trying to find the source. But before she could she was distracted again, a groan ripping from her throat as Adrian's teeth grazed the nub that appeared to be the center of her excitement. Her body vibrated, the tension pulling tighter, and Clarissa sucked in a breath on a gasp. She gave a choked cough as more smoke tickled her throat.
Trying desperately to think past the excitement and passion assaulting her, Clarissa pushed herself up to peer around the room. Her eyes found the blurred square of the door to her room and stilled. There appeared to be light on the other side, light seeping under the crack at the bottom of the door, and from that light she could see thick black smoke.
Clarissa instinctively reached for Adrian's head to get his attention, but he caught both her hands in his free one, using his weight to hold her legs in place as he continued his assault.
"Adri-- Oh!" Clarissa gasped as he suddenly pushed one finger into her. Her body bucked and clamored for more, begging her t
o shut up.
"Adrian," she gasped with determination. "Fire. Burning."
"I burn for you too," he raised his head long enough to say, then bent once more to the task of driving her crazy.
"No. Oh . . . no." Clarissa tried again and was struggling to free her hands, but he had a firm grip, and her own thrashing just changed the sensations enough that her excitement was peaking again.
Her eyes locked on the light under the door, and on the smoke now billowing in, and she wondered that he couldn't smell it. But then, he was rather busy down where he was. Renewing her efforts, Clarissa managed to drag one hand free of his and immediately caught at his hair, tugging--and not kindly--as she tried to get his attention. Unfortunately, her body really couldn't care less what else was happening; even as she struggled to get him to raise his head, her hips were still thrusting themselves eagerly upward, and she had no doubt he thought her hair-pulling was just excitement.
Groaning deep in her throat, Clarissa fell back on the bed, her head twisting, and she screamed, "Fire!" as the tension finally broke and her body bucked with release. It seemed to go on forever, wave after wave of pleasure riding her, until she was left a quivering, limp mass.
Adrian raised his head, and through die blissful fog that had descended over her mind, Clarissa was aware of his shifting up the bed to lie beside her. He took her boneless body in his arms and held her, pressed a kiss to her forehead, then frowned, sniffed, raised his head, sniffed again and said, "Is that smoke?"
"Yes." Clarissa sighed, a smile feeling permanently affixed to her face. "The house is on fire."
"What?" She found herself suddenly dumped back
onto the bed as Adrian launched himself up and hurried to the door. He tried to open it, frowned, then tried again, using both hands this time, as if that would make a difference. When the door still didn't open, he felt its surface, cursed, and hurried back to the bed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did try," Clarissa said. "I said, 'Fire,' and, 'Burning,' and tried to pull your head away."
"Oh, yes," he said. "I thought you were ... Never mind."
He glanced toward the window, then caught her hand and pulled her off the bed. "Come on; we have to get out of here."
Clarissa stood and nearly crumpled to the floor, but Adrian caught her and frowned. "What's the matter?" he asked.