Page 53 of A Perfect Gentleman

“Are they? And yet, I’ve had a bit of experience with ‘such feminine items.’ ”

“So you have.” Abby stepped closer, settling her hands on either side of his waist.

“Yes.” He brushed his lips across her cheek. “And they’re a damned nuisance.”

“Hmm.” Abby slid her hand up the front of his waistcoat. “One can only wonder why you continue to deal with them, then.”

“Because . . .” He nipped playfully at the lobe of her ear. “The prize is well worth the trouble.”

She giggled. “Stop.” She looped her arms around his neck in a way that contradicted her words. “We are supposed to be looking for a trunk.”

“Ah, but the trunk will still be here later.” He nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

“So shall we,” Abby pointed out.

“Yes, and hopefully feeling more relaxed.”

“I am feeling quite relaxed now.”

“Are you?” His lips traveled up her neck. “Let me see what I can do about that.”

She tilted her face to receive his kiss, her body melting against his. He knew how she would taste, how she would feel beneath his hands, and he tightened with anticipation. Abigail was pliant and willing—more than willing, he thought, as he curved his hand around the nape of her neck and felt her skin warm under his touch. She shivered, pressing up into him, and he slid his hands down her back, curving over her, enjoying the feel of her rounded derriere without the obstacle of a bustle.

He dug his fingertips into the fleshy cheeks, lifting her up and into his pelvis. She murmured, rubbing herself against him, and he hardened in response. Her untutored, eager reactions never failed to stir him. Graeme lifted his head and looked back down the length of the attic, considering for an instant the prospect of pulling her down on the dusty floor.

“No. Not here,” he decided.

Abigail turned in his arms—and that was a pleasure in itself, for now that rounded bottom was flush against him, and her front was open to his hands’ exploration. “It isn’t the most comfortable of surroundings,” she agreed. “Mmm.” She leaned back into him. “Graeme, if we are not to do this here, you must stop.” But the hand she placed on his roaming hand was more caressing than restraining.

“Yes. You’re right. I’ll stop.” He bent to kiss the side of her neck. “In just a moment.”

She let out a laugh and pulled away, reaching back to take his hand and pull him along with her. “It’s not far to my bedroom.”

“It seems a very long way at the moment.” But he went along amiably, lacing his fingers through hers. It was tantalizing to forestall the pleasure for a bit, to whet his appetite with images of spending the remainder of the afternoon in bed with her.

They left the attic and trotted down the back stairs to the bedroom floor. As they emerged into the corridor, Graeme whisked Abigail into the alcove by the back window, pressing her up against the wall and kissing her thoroughly. She countered by running her nails down his back. He fisted her skirts in his hand, sliding them upward.

“Graeme!” she hissed. “Not here. What if a servant comes out from the back stairs?”

“I’m not sure I care,” he murmured.

“So you say now!” She ducked out from under his arm and turned into the main hall, glancing back at him over her shoulder and laughing. He started after her.

“Graeme! There you are!” Lady Eugenia stood halfway down the corridor.

Abigail let out an undignified “Eek!” and halted abruptly. Graeme took a quick step to the side so that he was behind Abby, his lower half concealed.

“Don’t you dare move,” he murmured, clamping his hand on her waist. His wife began to giggle.

“Where have you been? Siddings has been looking for you.” His grandmother peered at them. “Where is your jacket?”

“What—oh, um, I must have left it in the attic.”

“The attic! Why on earth were you in the attic?”

“Well, um . . .”

“I asked to see it,” Abigail put in, much to Graeme’s relief.