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Gasping his name for a second time did not slow him down, and thank goodness. Gwen would not have known how to ask him to continue, but as Ernest did not cease lifting her hem and delving his right hand underneath her skirts, she did not have to worry about such things.

What she did have to worry about was making such loud noises of whimpering delight that someone investigated the strange sounds in a guest bedchamber that was supposed to be empty.

“You are so beautiful, Gwen,” Ernest murmured as his fingers trailed up her thighs. “So beautiful…”

It was a good thing that she was leaning against the wall, else Gwen would have to slip to the floor and allow the man to—

“Oh, God,” she whimpered, her eyelashes fluttering closed as Ernest’s fingertips brushed along her secret place.

Such intimacy, such connection, such vulnerability: she could never have imagined such a thing. As her moans of delight were quelled by a searing kiss, Gwen arched her back and parted her knees, welcoming the sudden intrusion of his fingers within her.

It was gentle at first, and for that, she was grateful—but when Ernest slipped a second finger into her wet folds and curled to stroke her, a jolting heat of pleasure caused Gwen to grab tightly to the man.

How the hell did he…

And that was when all rational thought ceased, and all Gwen could do was hold on to the man as his wonderful fingers stroked her with a rhythm that was slow yet merciless. Quivering against him and trying not to thrust herself upon him, Gwen mewled at the shock of the building bliss within her, the waves of molten need that were spiraling through her body, and something was building in her, building to a place she had never gone before, and—

“Ernest!”

Her cry was muffled by his swift kiss, desperate and possessive, and Gwen’s body exploded with ecstasy as his clever, clever fingers stroked her to a climax she had never known.

Limbs quivering, mind soaring, she moaned into his mouth all the unexpected elation that the peak brought her, and when it eventually subsided and she could even think about breathing again, Gwen blinked up into the satisfied expression of the man she loved.

“That… That was—”

“That was wonderful,” Ernest said quietly, carefully removing his fingers from her body and then his hand from under her skirts. “I could do that to you each and every day and never tire of it.”

Gwen almost slipped to the carpet at the very thought.

‘Each and every day’?

Was that was marriage was, then? No wonder her sisters had been so eager to wed their husbands… Well, Irene had taken an awfully long time to get to that point, but once she had…

“And now,” Ernest said quietly, the smug look of delight not yet fading from his face, “do you wish to return to the ball?”

Gwen blinked, momentarily not able to comprehend what on earth he had said.

Return…to the ball?

To real life? To the questions and comments of others, to a place where she and Ernest could not be open with their affections yet?

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly, trying desperately to keep her voice low. “No, I want—I want more.”

Well, the man did not have to look so damned pleased. “Am I that good?”

“Yes,” Gwen admittedly with a wry smile, feeling her cheeks burn at the admission. “And I want more, Ernest. More for both of us. I want to hear you cry my name.”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, for Ernest swore under his breath. “Gwen, you don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I think I have a relatively good idea, thanks to a very recent education,” she said dryly. She slipped her hand into his. “Ravish me, Ernest.”

Another curse that she would certainly have to remember for future frustrations. “Gwen, I can’t just take you here on the floor!”

“As delightful as that sounds, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Gwen said with a laugh. “Come on.”

The thing about balls, Gwen had noticed a long time ago, was that they occurred in ballrooms.

It might sound trite, but it was true. All the guests of Lady Romeril were downstairs in the ballroom, making sure to see and be seen, dancing and chattering and eating and drinking, and that meant that no guests were meandering about the corridors, or in the hallway, or climbing the stairs.