"See?"

Penelope walked several paces in front of Beckett in the hallway. He allowed her to get further ahead of him on the way back to their chambers because he did not think it wise for him to be within any confined space with Penelope at the moment. He had barely survived their horse ride.

Their surveillance of the estate had not resulted in much. Unless a family or two of squirrels were considered suspicious, they had indeed come up short.

Beckett could not decide how to feel about it. He knew he should be disappointed; continuing lack of evidence of Lawton's treason meant he had to stay longer in Southampton.

But...disappointment was not the emotion running through his veins at this moment.

"See what, my lady?"

Penelope scowled over her shoulder at his refusal to use her given name. He considered it payback for her use of Colonel earlier.

"See how I am adept at riding? I am a perfectly capable woman, Colonel." Walking into her bedchamber, she emphasized his title in a way that annoyed him. Damn her. "Perhaps one day you shall let me show you more."

So many words came out of her mouth that Beckett wished she hadn't said. Starting adept at riding and ending with show you more. His blood heated past the point of boiling.

Though he knew it was unwise, he stepped after her into the chamber and leveled Penelope with a stare. "Believe me, Lady Hutton. I should love for you to show me all the ways in which you are capable."

Admittedly he had been thinking about it for days.

He had been thinking a great deal about what might have happened if he hadn't left Penelope that night. She hadn't wanted him to. What she wanted was for him to take off her dress.

Fuck, he wanted to take off her dress. Right now, he longed to peel that goddamn riding habit off her skin.

Her eyes lit up with the invitation that he'd muttered. "Is that so?" she questioned. "You would love it?"

The moment sat between them, heavy, as Beckett deliberated. He should lie, but watching Penelope's face fall would likely kill off a tiny part of him. It was why he'd chased after her through the manor and given her exactly what she desired. He hated how soft he was becoming, hated how it was her fault.

Penelope grabbed onto the bedpost as she waited for Beckett's response. She breathed deeply, and he could almost feel the push and pull of it. The room stilled. Her eyes stayed on his, steady but hooded. Lust-filled.

Beckett stared back, and there was no doubt of what she could likely see in his gaze.

Lying would be futile.

"I would love it," he admitted, his voice like gravel. "I would love for you to show me."

The shift in the air was immediate, and Beckett knew he was in trouble. Because if Penelope kissed him right now, he would not be able to fight it. He'd welcome it.

And that is precisely what she did. She flattened Beckett to the door this time, closing it with force, and he simply let her do it. Her small hands had more power than he could have imagined in immobilizing him. And then, God help him, she kissed him.

Her lips were smooth and heavenly. Beckett sank his fingers into her hair and held her in place, kissing her back. He explored her mouth thoroughly, trying to memorize her lips. Christ, he'd been dreaming about this for too long. Since the other night, yes. But even before that.

"I would be delighted to show you," she murmured between the pressing of their lips. Her mouth drifted lower, brushing over Beckett's jaw. When she got to his neck, he began untying his cravat for her, not wanting anything to impede her progress. This wasn't something he'd gotten the chance to feel last time—her lips on him. And he was in awe of it.

Penelope seemed to appreciate that he removed his necktie, so Beckett did the same thing with several layers until he stood in his muslin shirt, half unbuttoned. Penelope pressed kisses to his chest, which rose and fell heavily beneath her mouth.

"Penelope."

His brain was only half working, but he knew he should get her attention. This was—this was too much.

"Beckett," she breathed, and it was wistful and light. Dreamy. Soft, like her. He longed to fall asleep to the sound of her voice one day.

"We cannot do this," he muttered.

"We are already doing it," Penelope said with a smile, looking up at him beneath her lashes.

When she started to unbutton his trousers, he grabbed her wrist.

"Penelope," he rasped.

"Let me show you," she whispered, her eyes just as wild as he felt. "Unless...you want me to stop."

Closing his eyes, Beckett searched for some kind of restraint.

"Want?" he repeated, his voice scratchy. "No, I could never want that."

What he wanted had nothing to do with it.

"Don't stop," he whispered, knowing this would damn him.

With his admission, Penelope pressed a palm over the strain in his trousers, and all Beckett could do was groan and knock his head back against the door.

"I want this," he added. "But you do not need to prove anything. I know you are capable, Penelope. In many ways."

It was true. He had seen for weeks now just how capable Penelope was—from her ability to ride to shoot to host parties to run an entire estate by herself.

Telling her so was his last-ditch effort to resist. He looked down his body, studying how she kneeled before him.

Penelope replied by smirking. She was enjoying herself far too much. "To be honest, this has nothing to do with that."

Considering her response, Beckett let her undo his trousers and watched them slide down. Her eyes widened when they landed on his cock, which was hard and waiting for her. But then they glittered with confidence and a determination that he could scarcely believe. Heat and desire bloomed within her expression.

Beckett did not stop her when she trailed a tentative finger over him, but he held a breath. And he certainly did not stop her when she pulled him into her hot, wet mouth.

Heaven help him.

Penelope fisted the base of his length, holding it tight while she mouthed his head, and Beckett swore he saw stars. There were so many warning bells in the back of his head, reminders of why this was wrong, but he was too far gone to care. This was the most wonderful feeling in the world, and he didn't have it in him to pull away.

Penelope was right; she was more than capable.

He caressed her hair and then tangled his fingers in it, using his grip to help her set a consistent pace. Penelope's head bobbed as she looked up at him coyly. Her lips curved in a grin, even while around his cock.

God, this sight. Beckett would never forget this sight. A marchioness, a daughter of a duke, on her knees for him. Not that he cared about titles or rank, but there was something spectacular about seeing his prim Penelope with her mouth stuffed full. She always did what she wanted, didn't she? And right now, what she wanted....was him.

Hell.

"Penelope," he groaned, trying not to think about where the devil she had learned to do this.

He tipped his hips out slightly, urging even more into her mouth. And she took it so well.

"I'm going to—" He choked on his attempt at breathing. "Darling, I'm not going to last."

Too good, too blissful.

She sucked him harder, and he took that response as permission. Beckett's vision shuttered as he tried to muffle his cries while releasing into Penelope's mouth. His entire body spasmed with the pure pleasure of it. It was an explosion of perfection like nothing he'd ever felt.

Jesus Christ, he couldn't believe...he couldn't believe a single part of that had happened.

"I expect I'll go to hell for letting you do that," he said through his panting, "and I couldn't care less."

She drew her lip in between her teeth, biting down. It was a sheepish but prideful look. Beckett lifted her up by placing a single finger beneath her chin. And then, when she was standing, he nodded behind her.

"Bed, Lady Hutton."

She hummed with excitement as she slowly took backward steps, Beckett following within a pace. Eventually, she hit the foot of the mattress, and he tipped her back onto it with a push of his finger.

"I sure as hell hope you did not learn to do that because another man forced it upon you," he said through gritted teeth. He doubted it was common practice for gentlewomen to go around sucking men's cocks. "I would have never asked you to do that."

"I told you when we first met," she said, a smirk sliding into place. "I read a great deal."

The relief and exasperation that spread throughout Beckett's body were unbelievable. He tugged up his trousers, keeping his focus on her as he tied them again.

"Well, thank God for that," he breathed, and her grin widened. "Now it is my turn."

Penelope's expression suddenly turned shy, and he wondered if perhaps this was not one of those things that she had read of. Regardless, he planned to take his turn in pleasuring her. Penelope watched him carefully as he pushed up her skirts and slipped off her drawers. She helped him by lifting her hips, eyes shining.

Beckett did not dare take off any more clothes than was necessary. The last thing he needed was to fuel his desperation more than he already had. Instead he assisted Penelope in spreading her legs for him and took in the sight of her, all wet and glistening for him. Christ. He felt himself respond, hardening again. How could he not when she looked like that?

"I am going to touch you," he said, rolling up his sleeves as he stood before Penelope on the bed.

She nodded, eyes pleading for him to do just that. But when Beckett dropped to his knees before her, he caught a glimpse of her gaze widening with shock before she disappeared from view.

"I have been dreaming about this," he admitted gruffly.

"About touching me?"

Penelope gasped as he stroked a finger through her wetness. And then he plunged inside her like the other night, enjoying how she clenched around him.

"About tasting you," he groaned before bending down and taking Penelope's pussy into his mouth.

She cried out, arching her back to give up more of herself. And he took it. God, he took it. Even knowing this would only increase his need for her even more.

"Oh, Beckett."

Her hands found his air, tugging on it. But it did not feel like she was asking him to stop. It very much felt like she was egging him on further. Which was good since Beckett was already dreading the moment when she released, and he would have to stop dragging his tongue along her folds, licking her where she longed for it the most, all while thrusting inside her with his fingers.

When she groaned loudly, Beckett picked up his pace. He flattened his tongue once over her clitoris before fluttering the tip of it repeatedly. Penelope bucked her hips up into his face, but Beckett held them down to the bed, wanting badly to continue without interruptions. He would give this to her because, hell, she asked for it.

Penelope's cries when she finally released were muffled, and he realized she must have used a pillow to block the sound. And it was likely wise considering how intensely she convulsed beneath him, rolling through her climax wave after wave.

Only when Beckett was confident that she'd worked through all of it did he pull away, lifting his head.

Penelope stared up at him with wide eyes, panting, pillow beside her.

"No...no one has ever done that before," she confessed.

"That is because you've been wasting your time with gentlemen, Penelope." Beckett smirked, putting his hands on his hips. "Which I am not."

He stood, taking special care to lick his lips while watching Penelope attempt to take deep breaths as she sprawled before him.

"I believe you have a picnic to prepare for, my lady," he said with a bow of his head.

Penelope groaned.

Beckett smiled broadly.