Roses and Flames

Chapter 21

Ambrosia stood for a moment, in indecision when she followed, out of the ballroom and through the halls of the house, to the place she knew he must go. It was dark in the garden, smelling of night blooming flowers and the beginnings of the steel heat that would drive the ton to Bath or the country. They had not bothered to light the yard, so no one straight from the house. But someone who was familiar with it needs no light to find the garden bench under the end. He was there, of course the dim outline against the darker bark of the tree.

She sat down beside him. He did not acknowledge her presence, so they sat in silence for a time, not wanting to spoil the moment. Then he said, “You promised, Ambrose. You promised that it would not come to this if I stayed.”

“You were right, before, when you said we could not waltz.”

If they had, she would have made a fool of herself, clinging to him on the dance floor. If she was in his arms, how could she do else?

He sighed.” You feel it as well, then? I hoped perhaps you had been spared and that the other day, in my rooms, had been an aberration.”

She nodded, wondering if he could see.” If it is not possible to master the feeling then perhaps we should not try.”

He did not move to look at her, sitting as still as he had when she had joined him.” You do not understand, not truly.”

“I understand that there are scant minutes left, before my choice become irrevocable. If there is any reason to change my mind then I will take it.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it hoping that he would feel the urgency.

“You must trust me to know what is best for you,” he said with his best physician’s tone,” And I tell you that there is no reason for you to marry the duke. In fact, I insist that you do.”

“Why do you must keep playing on the role of the tiresome older brother?” she asked with an amazed expression and shake of her head.

“I have not done enough in the recent years,” he replied.” You need someone to talk some sense into you, since it seems that your father cannot do that.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you are just as thick, despite all your fancy education, or if you are joking with me. You know that brotherly wisdom is not what I want from you.”

“What else can I offer?” he sounded so hopeless she wavered between pity and annoyance. It seemed that if she wanted the words of love, she would have to speak them herself.

“Let me put it plainly, since you refuse to. I love Pat. I always will. I wish for you to offer for me. But you are pretending that you do not understand. Please Pat, please. Declare yourself. I will speak to Samuel, and to Father.” She gave his hand another urgent squeeze.

She shifted her body, ever so slightly, towards his and turned so that their faces were only inches apart--- and suddenly they were kissing in a moonlit garden. In an instant, it was as it had been in his rooms.

She tried to remember where she was. And when. There were people waiting for her in the ballroom. And a man who wanted nothing more than to make her his bride.

But she could not stop wanting this man who would make her no promises. There were so many things wrong with the moment that she could hardly enumerate them. So she thought of none of them and opened her mouth.

She could hear the rustle of her own satin gown as he crushed his body to hers and feel the rapid flutter of her tongue in his mouth. He circled to still it, filling her mouth with the taste of him. His hand was at the back of her neck and he hesitated, stroking once, carefully, so as to not disarrange the curls. Then he smoothed over her neck, her shoulders, her throat, and very carefully slipped inside the bodice of her gown.

The man she loved was touching her breast. She caught her breath and then held it, giving him more room to touch her as he kissed. His hand was gentle even as his mouth was not, warm on her skin, his fingertips barely touching the puckering tip as his teeth grazed her lips and his tongue pushed deep, retreated and returned.

If this was what he wanted from her, she would gladly give it. Her legs trembled and her centre was wet, as she knew it would be when the time was right to join a man. If she had the nerve to touch him, as she had in his room. She was sure that he would be hard for her and just eager as she felt.

Her hands were beneath his coat, on his waist. It was improper, but wonderful. She slipped them under the bottom of his waistcoat and could almost feel his ribs underneath the linen of his shirt.

In response, his fingers closed on her n*****s and tugged. She gasped, biting at his lower lip, wanting more. He must give it to her. He simply must. She needed his tongue on her breasts, and his body in hers, so that they might be one in flesh as they had always been in spirit.

Her hands dropped lower, clutching him firmly by the backside. And she pulled herself upwards, forwards, into his lap. And for just a moment, she felt the bulge of him pressing against her through the gown. The trembling seemed to come from inside her now, like an expectant rumbling at the beginning of a storm.

He pulled away from the kiss and then whispered into her ear.” Is this what you want from me?” he thrust her hips against her.

She nodded eagerly, digging her fingers into the muscles of his body and pressing herself against the hardness, praying that this was what he wanted, the one that would make him want to continue.

“Because it is what I want from you,” he said. The hand that caressed her breasts squeezed to the point of pain.” It is what I wanted to have since my first desire. To taste your body with my mouth. To push myself into you. To spill my seed.”

“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes.” Yes. Yes.” She could imagine him there and the moment of helpless surrender when she became his.

“This is what I want,” he whispered, his breath in his ear even hotter than his kiss.” And it has nothing to do with romantic declaration, or a marriage. I want to have you here, right now, in the garden, naked like Eve. I want to use you for my pleasure, without the thought to what is right or good.”

He was making something that would be wonderful sound sordid. But she wanted it all the same.

The hand that had been at her waist pressed her head to his mouth so he might continue to whisper,” I want your body, Ambrose. That is all. I want to ruin you. I want what I want. I do not care if it destroys the both of us. That is why I left six years ago. And that is why I must leave now.”

And then he pushed her away, out of his lap and on to her side of the bench. The night had grown cold. She could feel it against her exposed breasts and the constriction of the bodice and pulled low under them.

“Compose yourself. And then go back into the house and find your betrothed.” His voice was as cold as air, passionless.” As I have told you before, I am not the man for you. Marry the Duke of Mayburry, Ambrose. Please. He will care for you. I cannot. But you must stop this pointless hoping that there will be ever another choice.” He stood then and walked away. Deeper into the garden or back into the house? She was not sure.