Stolen Kisses

by Suzanne Enoch

  “Is Father gone?”

  Lilith jumped as William leaned his head into the morning room. Her brother had become far too proficient at sneaking about, and he was wearing that conspiratorial look on his face again. She frowned at him. “Yes, he took Aunt Eugenia to see Mrs. Higginson half an hour ago, after I spent twenty minutes convincing him that Mr. Higginson was personally acquainted with the Duke of Gloucester. Where in the world have you been?”

  “Looking for Jack, of course.”

  “And did you find him?”

  The Marquis of Dansbury reached past her brother to push the door open the rest of the way, and strolled into the morning room as though he owned it. He had donned a blue coat and tan breeches, and he still looked more like a pirate than a member of the peerage. “Indeed he did, Miss Benton.” She watched him, unable to look away, as he swept a bow and sank onto the couch beside her without being asked. “And thank you for inviting me. I admit, it is an honor I never expec—”

  “Why is it,” Lilith interrupted, with what she considered remarkable composure, “that the greatest scandal of the moment is Raymond Beecher’s ill-planned elopement with that fortune-hunting Harriet Devereaux?”

  Before Dansbury replied, he took a moment to look about the room. “I say, it looks much more pleasant in here without a corpse on the floor.” He nodded approvingly. “It is a scandal because no one can conceive that the two of them might actually have fallen in love. And Harriet is no gold digger. She’s got more blunt than Beecher could ever have hoped to inherit.”

  “But I heard her late husband’s will stated—” Lilith stopped herself, scowling, as the marquis looked at her, amusement in every line of his lean face. “You know what I mean,” she continued, lifting her chin. “Why does no one know of the Duke of Wenford’s unfortunate death?”

  “Except for William, of course.”

  So he didn’t approve her choice of confidant. “I don’t require your approval.”

  The marquis glanced at William, who frowned at him. “Just pointing out a fact,” he said.

  “That’s right, you don’t want to upset your new disciple, do you?” she said sweetly, pleased to be on the attack for once.

  He looked sideways at her and leaned closer. “You don’t want to upset your rescuer, now, do you?” he murmured under his breath.

  Lilith reluctantly stopped baiting him. He could do far more damage to her than she could to him, after all. “Suffice it to say that including my brother was necessary. Now explain yourself, Lord Dansbury.”

  The marquis hesitated. “I’m a bit baffled,” he finally sighed, rising to go lean against the mantel.

  “You’re—where is the body of the Duke of Wenford?” she demanded.

  “Didn’t you put him on his doorstep, like you told Lil you would?” William questioned from his perch by the window.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Where is he?” Lilith asked evenly.

  The marquis met her gaze. “I found myself unable to resist a rather grand notion, and I convinced your groom to help me haul Old Hatchet Face down into his wine cellar.”

  She stared at him, what was left of her color draining away. “You didn’t.”

  He shrugged. “I couldn’t let my last chance at him go by untouched.”

  This was all happening too fast, which seemed to occur quite regularly when the Marquis of Dansbury became involved. “So you’ve hidden him in his wine cellar. What good will that do? Someone will find him eventually.”

  “You misunderstand me. I didn’t hide him. I left him in the middle of the floor.”

  “And?” she prompted.

  He gave a brief smile. “And I opened one of his bottles of wine for him. Not a very good vintage, I’m afraid—but no doubt everyone will understand his poor taste, given his condition.”

  Lilith shut her eyes for a moment. “What condition?” she asked faintly.

  “His being naked and completely flummoxed in the middle of the famous Remdale wine cellar.”

  “Naked?”

  William gave a shout of laughter. “By God, Jack. I wish I’d been there!”

  Lilith took several deep breaths. “William, please go watch for Papa,” she suggested tightly. Her brother wasn’t helping matters in the slightest, and she certainly didn’t want the two of them ganging up on everything she said. The marquis was more than enough for her to handle.

  “You’re not leaving me out of this,” her brother countered, stubbornly folding his arms across his chest and frowning.

  “William, be a good boy and do as you’re told,” the marquis unexpectedly seconded. “Your sister wishes to bellow at me in private. I’ll catch you up later.”

  His scowl deepening, William stood and stomped to the door. “Dash it all, Jack, you’d better.”

  “Now, my sweet, you wished to speak to me in private?” Jack said softly. “You have my utter, complete, entire, undivided attention. I am yours to command, your willing slave in all things real—and imagined.”

  Lilith rounded on Dansbury, attempting to credit her speeded pulse rate to simple annoyance. “Why would you do such a thing? Why?”

  “That is the most interesting topic you can come up with? Surely you can do better,” he returned. “Perhaps we might decide how to settle the debt you owe me. I have several suggestions.”

  Lilith blushed, and tried to pretend that she had not “Why would you leave His Grace in such a state? The scandal—”

  His expression unexpectedly darkened. “The scandal is exactly why,” he said shortly. For the first time, genuine, unmistakable anger touched his voice. “I have no idea how naive you may be, Miss Benton, and I don’t wish to offend your delicate sensibilities, but I know damned well what Wenford was attempting to do to you when he popped off. The bastard may have taken away the opportunity for me to do something nasty to him while he was alive, but it was not too late to put him in his place. Now everyone will see him for what he was—a big, bloody buffoon.”

  Lilith had the disturbing sense that she’d just met the real Jack Faraday. It was unsettling, because for a second, she’d liked the man. “It’s too late to embarrass him. It will be his family, and mine, who will suffer.”

  “Nonsense. Dolph, maybe—I hope so. You had nothing to do with it, or with him. No one knows anything but that he was courting you.”

  A moment ago he was insulting her, and now he was apparently comforting her. “Are you defending my honor?”

  Jack gave a brief smile and looked away. “I don’t know. Perhaps I am.”

  Lilith looked at his lean, handsome profile for a long moment. “Why?”

  This time he chuckled. “You seem at such a loss,” he returned. “Can’t even admit you approve my choice of Wenford’s resting place.”

  “How could I approve such a thing?”

  He eyed her. “Don’t you find it the least, tiny bit satisfying, Miss Benton? You were the one he was assaulting, after all.”

  “Under the circumstances, what I think about it doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “I—”

  “Only if you don’t let it matter.”

  He’d misinterpreted her meaning, but his answer surprised her nevertheless. “My, aren’t you enlightened?” she said, with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

  “I do try,” he conceded, inclining his head. “And you’re evading my question.”

  “I don’t intend to answer it.”

  “That’s an answer in itself, isn’t it?” he pursued with a wolfish grin. “I believe silence is generally considered to be an assent.”

  “You, my lord, are extremely irritating.” Lilith shut her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingers.

  She expected an answer in kind, and it was a moment before she realized that Dansbury was being far too quiet. Lilith opened her eyes again, to see him studying her face closely, his own expression thoughtful. She liked it better when he was being flippant. At least then he was easier to decipher.

  “
What is it now?” she snapped. Thank goodness her father would never consider him a potential suitor, because it was completely impossible for her to keep her temper and her tongue in check around him.

  “This is quite a trial for you, isn’t it?” He folded his arms and leaned back against the mantel.

  “Of course it is,” she said haughtily, annoyed that he thought her helpless. “I am unused to dealing with dead dukes and devious scoundrels.”

  If she hadn’t despised him so much, she might have thought his answering grin attractive. “I thought nothing rattled Lilith Benton.”

  She was actually feeling quite rattled at the moment, and not simply because of Wenford’s death. “And what gave you that impression?”

  “Why, you did.” He looked at her from beneath his dark lashes. “Always so cool and calm—”

  “I am not the Ice Queen!” she blurted. To hear his amused voice call her that name would be simply unbearable.

  Dansbury straightened. “What do you call a female, then, who encourages six suitors—”

  “Five,” she snapped.

  “—six suitors, and answers none of them? Are you waiting for an even dozen?”

  “That is complete nonsense!” Lilith stood, then didn’t know what to do with herself. She settled for stomping her foot and glaring at him.

  “Come now, Miss Benton,” he chastised, moving closer, “are you being prudent, or calculating?”

  “That does not concern you,” she retorted. “It concerns only my family.”

  “What does your family matter?” he said cynically. “Your family wouldn’t have had to rut with Wenford.”

  She couldn’t suppress a shudder at the image. “Family is all that matters.”

  He paused, looking at her with an intense curiosity that unsettled her even further. “Even so,” he went on after a moment, as though conceding a point to her, “couldn’t you turn down two or three of the least likely candidates? After all, there are other females looking for husbands this Season. It’s not fair to monopolize every man of marrying age and inclination.”

  That hadn’t been her decision, either. “I’ve turned you down,” Lilith reminded him, so angry her voice trembled. At least she told herself it was righteous fury making her shake.

  “But what of the rest?” He stepped closer, a slight grin on his face. “Other than Wenford, of course, who has taken himself out of the running.”

  Lilith backed away from him. His voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her breathing was keeping pace with the accelerated beat of her heart. As he continued to advance, her back came up against the bookcase, and she was forced to stop. “Papa favors the Earl of—”

  “Nance?” he interrupted, scowling. “He’s an idiot, and you know it. And I didn’t ask you to name your father’s favorite. Isn’t there one who’s caught your heart?” Dansbury stopped in front of her, his dark eyes holding hers. “One only, who makes you breathe faster?” He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and leaned closer. “One whose image won’t leave your mind,” he murmured, “but rolls around and around in your thoughts until you can think of no one else?”

  “It doesn’t matter who…who it is,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to avoid his gaze, “so long as he is respectable.”

  His lazy smile was belied by the glint in his eyes. “Anyone but me, then?” he whispered.

  She took a shaky breath, wishing he would move away, look away, so she could muster whatever it was that gave her the courage to stand up to him. “Yes.”

  “And you’ve left nothing out of your little equation for respectability?” he pushed, his breath warm and soft against her mouth. “Happiness, perhaps?”

  “Respectability will make me happy, my lord.”

  “Are you certain of that, Miss Benton?”

  “Absolu—”

  He bent his head and captured her lips in a rough, hard kiss. Everything stopped—her heart, her breath, all sensation except for the hot, sensuous feel of his mouth on hers. Her eyes closed, and her fingers tangled through his dark hair. Torn between wanting him to continue kissing her and horror that she felt that way, she frantically grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. He looked down at her in surprise, and she kicked him in the knee. The duke’s kiss had felt nothing like this, like lightning shooting down her spine. “You…you scoundrel,” she gasped.

  Dansbury stepped back and bent to rub his knee, apparently unmoved by their embrace. “Sticks and stones may—”

  “You blackguard! You beast!” She was angry—that’s what she was. She was furious.

  He straightened with an unruffled grin. “—break my bones, but names—”

  Lilith snatched up a vase.

  “Try this, then!”

  She hurled the porcelain at him.

  Dansbury nimbly ducked sideways, and the container crashed against the couch. “Well, well, well, Ice Queen.” His eyes twinkling with amusement, he moved toward her again.

  Lilith snatched up a ceramic candy dish and flung it at the marquis. “I am not a damned Ice Queen!” she shrieked.

  This time her aim was true—the dish struck the side of his head. With a grunt, Dansbury staggered and fell to the floor.

  For a stunned moment, Lilith stared down at him. Then she dashed over to kneel beside him. He remained motionless. “My lord? Dansbury?”

  He didn’t move, but lay with one arm draped across his face.

  “Jack?” Alarm that she might actually have hurt him ran through her.

  He slowly lowered his arm and eyed her. “Blast it! That hurt.” He touched his temple with his fingers, and they came away bloody. He sat up, his dark eyes dancing. “I do believe you’ve proved your point.”

  “What point?” This man insisted on bringing out the worst in her, and she seemed completely unable to resist responding.

  “That you’re no damned Ice Queen, Lil.”

  “Miss Benton,” she corrected, wondering why it mattered to her that she had convinced him. “And you deserved worse, you cad.”

  “I’ve had worse.” He chuckled. “Though cracking me in the head does seem rather severe—it was only a kiss.”

  Only a kiss. Well, he might have kissed enough women that he felt nothing, but Lilith couldn’t even put into words what he did to her insides. “Don’t ever do it again.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I intend to kiss you as often as I can get away with it.”

  For a moment Lilith sat frozen on the floor, staring at him. “What have I ever done to you,” she managed, “that makes you keep tormenting me?”

  Apparently unmoved by her plea, he gave her a careless grin. “I’ve already told you how you infatuate me.” He looked at her sideways. “And besides, you looked at me.”

  “I looked at you? I don’t doubt there are at least a dozen other people in the world who have ‘looked at you,’” she countered, wondering what game he was playing now. “Why don’t you torment all of them instead?”

  A slow, sensuous smile touched his mouth. “No, Miss Benton, you misunderstand. You looked at me. And then you pretended that you hadn’t.” He shifted closer to her, so that only a few inches separated them. “You were attracted to me. You still are.”

  “I am not.” Lilith swallowed. “Perhaps for a moment I thought your countenance pleasant,” she admitted reluctantly. “But that was before I learned of your poor character.”

  “Hm,” he murmured, holding her gaze, “and why is it you think my character poor?”

  “You know very well.”

  Jack reached out and gently touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You’ve made an accusation. I would like to hear your evidence.”

  Lilith shivered at his light touch. “Stop that.”

  “You’re a sensual creature, I think,” he murmured, letting his fingers trail down to touch the pearl necklace at the base of her throat. “Tell me.”

  Good Lord, she’d been in less difficulty with the Duke of Wenford—
at least her sentiments toward him had been pure revulsion. Dansbury was much more complicated. The gentle tug of the silver chain at her neck as he fingered the single pearl made her take a quick, shallow breath. Dansbury was also a much greater threat. “I am not—”

  Before she could finish, William slammed the door open and rushed into the room. “Father’s carriage just turned the cor—” He stopped short, looking down at the marquis. “What the devil happened to you?”

  Dansbury hauled himself to his feet. “I met with an accident,” he replied with a short grin, and held a hand down to her.

  Lilith allowed him to pull her to her feet. “I hit him with a candy dish,” she elaborated.

  Stifling what sounded like laughter, Dansbury squatted down, swiftly and efficiently cleaning up the broken pieces of pottery. No doubt he was accustomed to covering his scandalous doings on a regular basis.

  William stood staring at Lilith, his eyes wide. “He’s one of the deadliest shots in England, Lil. Are you mad?”

  “Completely demented,” the marquis supplied, before she could answer. “I’m beginning to wonder whether you didn’t do Wenford in yourself, Miss Benton.”

  Lilith blanched. “Don’t you dare say such a thing!”

  “Lil, you shouldn’t be talking that way to the Marquis of Dansbury,” William argued.

  “He shouldn’t be talking that way to me!” She stomped her foot again, wishing for another item to throw at him. “Now, get out, before Papa sees you.”

  “Lilith!” William protested.

  “Oh, do be quiet, William,” the marquis unexpectedly interrupted, his expression annoyed. “I can fend for myself.” He set the pottery into the waste basket, then touched the knot on his temple. “I’ll have to think up an explanation for this, though.”

  “I’m certain no one would have the least bit of difficulty believing a woman had to defend her honor against your advances,” Lilith said in amusement.

  “I was hardly advancing,” Dansbury returned.

  “No,” she agreed dryly, “I believe you were falling.”

  He laughed. “Only for your beauty, my dear.”