French Angel

VIII. Chapter eight

"How is it, that whenever I seek you out nowadays, you seem to be alone, my angel?" Richard murmured into her ear from behind. Angélique's face heated to the point, where she thought she had come down with a fever.

Although; Angélique was out of her wits that evening, she would not let Richard know he was the cause. No, she held her head higher and let a mocking smile slowly bloom on her lips.

"Mayhap, my Lord, you seek me out in the most unfortunate of moments?" Her tone light, but Richard noted the mockery in it. His little angel was with no doubt, making fun of him for always coming to her right after he arrives. And calling him 'my Lord' was only adding to it.

"May I say, I would strongly advise against sneaking up on a lady." Angélique turned to Richard and narrowed her eyes threateningly. "Certain parts of your body might be..." she paused for the dramatic effect. "damaged per se as a consequence of doing so." Angélique had self-satisfied, cat-looking smirk adorning her delicious lips.

"I shall heed this advice in the future then, my wise Lady." Richard bowed low in his waist to her. Then as he was righting himself, he took hold of Angélique's gloved hand and rose it to his lips.

Angélique gasped as he laid his hot lips on her covered hand. Memories from earlier that day came rushing back. She remembered his soft lips as they met hers. His conquering tongue slithering into her mouth. The intimate play of their mouths, tongues, hands, and bodies.

She wanted to feel him against her. But this time, clothed as on the day they were born, skin meeting skin. She wanted to touch, caress, discover, and kiss every inch of his body. Her muscles in her belly contracted, leaving her wanting.

Richard noted as his angel's breath quickened. He knew how the simple, innocent touch affected her. Because he was right there with her. A shiver ran down his spine, his muscles flexed, as if he were preparing for thrusting into her cave – the one he yet had not the pleasure of uncovering and claiming.

"Richard," Angélique breathed, moaned out. The intensity of her need made her knees shake, and tears of frustration come into her eyes. She wanted – no, yearned for him. After all this time they had kept their distance, but after having the taste of each other, they could not get enough.

For Richard, this was just as new as for Angélique. She gave him more pleasure than any woman in his entire life – and he only had a lick of the whole scope of ice cream. He peered at his little witching angel. It was a wonder, for she came into his life the very moment his struggles became almost too much to bear.

"I know, my angel, I know." Richard said under his breath gently. They were both in pain, longing for release, but leaving now would create a scandal of the century. And his angel did not deserve any of that.

'Tonight is the night.' Richard thought to himself in need of comfort. For he would either lose her or win her. For good. There would be no way back after tonight. And Richard wanted Angélique to have the final say.

He did not want her to make a decision in a heap of a need and desire, only to later come to regret it. With a newly restored resolution, Richard swept his angel on the dancefloor.

*

Two ladies watched them with one eye while the other was observing whereabouts of a certain apathetic person who held the power to destroy all their plans. One turned to the other, and muttered behind her fan, "observe, and step in, if there seems to be too much fire." The second lady nodded her head. After all, she was the one who came up with the ingenious idea.

*

"Let me take you home, my angel," Richard mumbled in her ear as they floated over the dancefloor. It has been hours since they started with Champagne, talking, and dancing. It did not escape Richard's attention that the ton was already talking about them, and the impropriety of dancing with one dance partner the entire night, not to mention it happened every single gathering.