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be off then, Lothario. Far be it for me to delay the discovery of your next amour.”
Gerard followed at a safe distance, but doing so was not effective in quelling his lust due to the lamentable fact that he now had an excellent view of Isabel’s gently swaying hips and lush derriere.
The landau ride was a bit better, as the open top helped to dissipate the scent of exotic flowers. And the walk on Bond Street was better than that, since he could no longer think about his errant cock while being gaped and pointed at. Pel walked beside him, chatting merrily, her lovely face shaded by a wide-brimmed straw hat.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You would think I had risen from the dead.”
“In a way, you have. You left without a word, and kept in touch with no one. But I think they are just as interested in the changes to your appearance.”
“My skin is sun-darkened.”
“Yes, it is. I quite like it. Other women will like it, too.”
He glanced down at her in the course of his reply, and realized that from his vantage he had a prime view of her breasts.
“Where is the damned tailor’s?” he growled, frustrated beyond measure.
“You do need a woman,” she said, shaking her head. “Here we are. This is the establishment you listed in your old schedule, is it not?”
The door opened inward with a soft ring of bells, and within moments they were in a private fitting room. He was divested of his clothing, which Pel ordered away with a toss of her hand and a wrinkling of her nose. Gerard stood there in his smalls, and laughed. Until she turned to face him. Then the way she looked at him tightened his throat and choked off his merriment.
“Good heavens,” she breathed, while circling him. Her fingertips brushed lightly across the ridges of his abdomen. He bit back a groan. The entire room smelled like her. Now she was touching him intimately.
The tailor entered, and gaped a moment in surprise. “I believe I will have to take new measurements, my lord.”
Isabel stepped back quickly at the intrusion, her cheeks flushed. The tailor began to work, and she recovered quickly, directing her attention to talking the tradesman into parting with finished garments ordered by another customer.
“Surely, you would not wish His Lordship to leave your establishment in any manner other than suitably attired?” she asked.
“Of course not, Lady Grayson,” came the ready reply. “But these are the closest to finished that I have, and they will not fit His Lordship. But perhaps I could add some extra material here.”
“Yes, and let it out a little more there,” she said, when the tailor pinned the material at his shoulder. “Look how broad he is. You can remove the padding. First and foremost, he must be comfortable.”
Her hand drifted down his back, and Gerard clenched his fists to fight off a shudder. He was anything but comfortable.
“Do you have smalls that will fit him?” she asked, her voice lower and huskier than usual. “This material is too coarse.”
“Yes,” the tailor said quickly, eager to sell as much as possible.
The jacket was whisked away, and Gerard pulled on the matching trousers. They stood behind him, the tailor and Isabel, and he was grateful. He was holding off a cockstand by dint of will alone. He couldn’t help being aroused. Pel’s gaze was so hot, he felt it, and she continued to touch him and say admiring things about his body. A man could only take so much.
“Do not alter this,” she breathed, her breath hot against his bare back. Her hand cupped the curve of his ass. “Is it too tight back here, my lord?” she asked him softly, caressing him. “I hope not. It looks wonderful.”
“No. The back is fine.” Then he lowered his voice so only she could hear. “But you have made the front damned uncomfortable.”
The curtain moved to the side, and an assistant entered with the smalls. Gerard closed his eyes in misery. Everyone would see his condition now.
“Thank you,” Isabel