His brows rose. “Good?”
Oh God! Had she said that aloud? Seizing on a false bravado she certainly didn’t feel, she lifted her chin. “Because then you’ll be able to find your way back.”
Instead of leaving as she’d hoped, the frustrating man only grinned at her. That same slow, sensuous smile she remembered so vividly from last night curled at his very kissable lips. And just as it had last night, warmth spread inside her, right down to her toes.
She shivered. Oh, this man was dangerous!
“I think you should join them,” she prodded as strongly as she could without being rude and demanding he leave.
“I don’t like guns,” he murmured, sending her heart racing when his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Besides, I came to see you.”
“Me?” Instead of the squeak she expected, her voice emerged as a throaty, breathless rasp that made his smile deepen. Which made her heart pound faster. Oh no, this was not good!
“You left so suddenly last night.” He reached to touch one of the loose tendrils of her hair that her maid had left hanging delicately from her chignon to frame her face and neck. “I wanted to know if you were all right.”
With each twist of her curl around his finger, she wished he would stop touching her like that, while shamelessly wishing at the same time that he would unpin the knot and shove his hand into her locks, sift them through his fingers, tilt her head back to kiss her—heavens, she was in trouble!
She cleared her throat. “How very kind of you to be concerned, Lord Chesney.”
“Thomas,” he insisted.
She ignored that, although she certainly could never ignore him. He was too tall, too muscular and broad-shouldered, and far too masculine to be disregarded. And the expert way he flirted, making her feel as if she was the most beautiful woman in the room—she swallowed. Hard. “I’m feeling much better today, thank you.” Although she felt feverish all of a sudden. And oddly achy.
“I apologize if I overstepped last night,” he murmured.
He hadn’t simply overstepped. He had effectively stripped her naked right in the middle of a crowded ballroom by telling her things about herself no stranger could ever have known, and she’d felt completely exposed beneath those sapphire eyes, vulnerable, and wholly at risk.
“No apology necessary.” When he twined the curl around his fingers, heat shivered through her until she couldn’t bear it any longer and forced out, “Please stop touching my hair.”
“All right.” He released the curl…only to trail his fingertips along the side of her neck.
Her breath caught in her throat. Devil take him! He was doing this just to bother her. And frustratingly, it was working. He was bothering her all right, in all kinds of ways that left her tingling down to her toes and praying he couldn’t feel her racing pulse or see the heat rising in her cheeks.
“As I said, I wasn’t feeling well, that was all.” Then she repeated in a pathetic whisper that held no resolve whatsoever, “Please stop touching me. It—it isn’t at all proper.”
The only response she gained was an amused twitch of his lips…and an ever-widening pattern of caresses against her neck and throat. “I see your maid is feeling better this morning as well.”
“Yes, Mary’s bett—” She halted as his words registered, and panic rose in her belly. If he knew something as personal about her as that, what would stop him from deciphering all her secrets? She demanded, “How do you know that?”
“Last night your coiffure was uneven, but this morning not a curl’s out of place.” To punctuate his point, he stroked the back of his knuckles across her cheek, drawing a heated flush in the wake of his touch that she was unable to tamp down. “Beautiful, in fact.”
Her heart thumped so hard she suspected he could hear it even from a foot away. She knew she should bat his hand away, shove him back, and leave. For goodness’ sake, someone might stumble across them! She’d never be able to explain why she’d let him put his hand on her. She wasn’t certain herself, except that it felt so very good.
But she found no will to do any of that. Instead she let him remain dangerously close, let him trail his fingers down to her jawline, then slowly forward to her lips. She trembled.
When he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, she sighed and shamelessly parted her lips beneath his caress. His dark eyes stared down into hers so boldly, so intensely that his gaze heated straight through her, swirling low in her belly and landing between her legs with a throbbing ache.
Oh, sweet heavens! She had to get away from him. Now.
So she jutted up her chin, smacked away his hand, and attacked. “So last night I was uneven?”
His eyes narrowed at her unexpected reaction. Good. Let him be angry. Let him focus on anything but the truth about her.
“Lord Chesney,” she scolded, summoning all the primness of a governess. “I refuse to stand here and let you insult me. Or ruin my reputation with your rakish ad—”
In one swift motion, he grabbed her arm and pulled her with him as his shoulder shoved open the tack room door behind her. Propelling them inside, he lowered his mouth hungrily against hers, capturing her in a hot kiss before she could regain her wits and stop him. And when he kicked the door closed behind them, sealing them together inside the small room, his mouth molded against hers, and she didn’t want him to stop.
Her soft gasp of surprise turned into a moan of submission against his lips as he leaned back against the door and drew her toward him, tugging her off-balance until she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his shoulders to keep from falling.
“You know damned well that wasn’t an insult,” he growled as he tore his mouth away from hers to sweep back along her jaw. Each caress of his lips sent a hot shudder of aching arousal swirling through her. “Just as you know I’m not here to find out if you’re feeling better.”
Unable to find the willpower to push him away, she tilted back her head to give his seeking mouth access to her bare neck and to allow him to dance hot kisses across the same place where his fingertips had tormented her just moments ago. “Then—” She breathed raggedly. “Why are you here?”
“For this.” His teeth nipped at her throat. “And this.” The tip of his tongue circled the curve of her ear. “And especially this.”
With his thumb he pulled down her chin and parted her lips so that this time when his mouth captured hers, his tongue shoved inside to plunder her kiss completely.
With a whimper of half pleasure, half need, she dug her fingertips deeper into the hard muscles of his shoulders and surrendered helplessly to the strength and power of him, to the heat he pulsed tantalizingly down her spine. Her body trembled and her mind blanked until all she knew was the insistent pressure of his mouth, the teasing strokes of his tongue along hers. She’d never been kissed like this before. Good Lord, she’d never known such a kiss was even possible!
And oh, what a delicious kiss it was, too, one that left her quivering and craving the tangy taste of him.
Forcing back a soft moan, she tentatively touched the tip of her tongue against his. He inhaled sharply, and she thrilled at his reaction. Lost in the heady sensations that his kisses poured through her, she rose up on tiptoe to boldly return the kiss, run her fingertips through the silky softness of his thick black hair, and lick brazenly into his mouth.
“Josephine,” he groaned. He captured her tongue between his lips, sucking hard and drawing it deep into his mouth until he stole her breath away, until fingers of liquid flame rose up from her toes and tickled at that private place between her legs. And then she did moan, long and loud and shamelessly.
She tore her mouth away from his, panting and fighting for breath. She buried her face in his chest and halted the wild ride he was giving her before she completely lost control to him.
As she clung to him, her weakened knees shaking so hard beneath her she had to lean against him to keep from falling away, she wrapped her arm around his neck and rested her forehead
against his hard shoulder. Her body pulsed hot. Trembling. Aching. And traitorously wanting more.
“Good God,” he breathed, incredulous, his mouth buried against her hair.
Good God indeed. How was it possible that he could make her so uncontrolled and reckless with only a kiss? “But…but I don’t even like you,” she protested in a confused whisper.
“I know,” his husky voice rasped out. “Damn curious to me, too.”
His hands ran down her back in slow, gentle caresses as if he couldn’t stop touching her. Although, truth be told, she didn’t want him to stop. Which made him more dangerous than she’d ever imagined. Because not only would he eventually prove no different from all the other men before him, this one held the power to learn more about her than she could ever reveal.
“But you have such an effect on me, Josephine, you don’t even realize…and I have no idea why.” His large hands cupped her bottom and gently pulled her hips tight to his, to mold her wantonly against him. And God help her, she let him do just that. “You’re a puzzle to me, holding all kinds of secrets. And I love a good puzzle.”
Secrets. Her heart raced impossibly faster. “I’m not—” She inhaled sharply as he squeezed her bottom in his hands. “I’m not a puzzle.”
“A mystery, then.” His warm lips brushed against her temple. “One begging to be solved.”
Shamelessly delighting in the scandalous way he held her, she protested weakly, “I’m not begging for anything.”
He gave a wicked laugh and tipped up her face. “Not yet.” His stare turned predatory as he lowered his gaze to her mouth. “But you will.”
There was no mistaking his meaning, and an unexpected wave of longing rippled through her so intensely that it gathered into a burning flame in her belly and ached to be extinguished. “I’m just—” She shivered as his hands slid up her sides, his thumbs pressing over each rib as he moved higher. “A normal woman.”
“Oh no, you’re not.” He lowered his head to kiss teasingly at the corner of her mouth, the tip of his tongue darting out to taste her. “Not with the way you’ve intrigued me since the moment I first saw you.” He gently took her bottom lip between his and sucked, eliciting a soft whimper of pleasure from her. “There’s something about you, Josephine,” he murmured hotly against her mouth. “Something only you do to me. And I need to figure out why.”
She turned her head away before she begged him to kiss her breathless the way he’d done before, when he flamed that delicious throbbing that heated wickedly between her legs. But she managed only to bring his mouth against her ear, where he devilishly traced the outer curl with his tongue. She trembled.
“No, I am normal. I like dances and gowns, playing the pianoforte…I like to buy lace and try on gloves and bonnets.” She swallowed nervously as his fingers played at the buttons of her collar, as if he were contemplating undressing her right there in the stable. “I—I like dances…”
“You already said that,” he breathed hotly against her ear, making her shudder.
“Well, you are making it difficult to think straight!” She groaned in frustration and somehow found the will to slap her hand against his shoulder to capture his attention and make him stop kissing her ear like that. He was so scandalously delicious, too dangerously close.
He shifted back far enough to look down at her, and the burning heat in his eyes stole her breath away. “Good,” he purred.
Velvet. Dear God, his voice was velvet…
Her stomach knotted. Could he feel the hammering of her heart, the humming of her blood through her veins? All of her shook now, worked up to the point of bursting from a combination of nervousness at not knowing what to do and fear that he would uncover her secrets just as he claimed he would. And from a craving she didn’t know how to satisfy, one that left her aching and frustrated because she was certain that he did.
Oh, how dangerous he was for her! Did he have any idea what wanton sensations he swirled through her with just a kiss and a caress of his hands? Or, God help her, how much she enjoyed it?
She looked into his eyes, and the heated desire she saw there…Oh, he certainly knew, all right.
“You are a mystery to me, Josephine.” He slowly unfastened the top two buttons of her jacket. “You’re beautiful, with a sharp mind that keeps me wondering what you’ll do or say next.” Another button slipped free. “Although if that’s all it was, I’d be able to stay away. But you’re so much more than just that.”
His fingers gently pulled open her collar, and her breath hitched in her throat. No man before had ever come this close to discovering—
His fingertips fluttered over her throat, and a soft gasp tore from her. She closed her eyes against the temptation of him. Futile resistance, because instead of shoving him away her traitorous body leaned toward his heat. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and her heart, certain to be broken, pounded a fierce tattoo.
“Which means you’ve compelled me to discover why you of all women, Josephine, are the one to invade my thoughts and capture my attention so completely. So I’m going to peel back the layers of you, one at a time.” He lowered his head to place his lips against the bare flesh of her exposed neck. Goose bumps raced down her arms, and she shivered. “Until I figure out exactly what spell you’ve cast over me.”
She stifled a whimper with a bite to her bottom lip. “Lord Chesney, please! You—”
“Thomas,” he insisted as he brushed his lips tantalizingly against her throat. “My name is Thomas. Say it.”
She sucked in a ragged breath, somehow praying she could find the strength to make him stop before he did exactly as he’d warned and discovered who she truly was. “You have to leave.”
“Say my name, Josephine.” He lifted his head to stare into her eyes, and she immediately missed the heat of his very capable mouth on her body. And wantonly wanted it on her again.
In helpless capitulation she breathed, “Thomas.”
“Thank you.”
In reward his mouth lowered to touch hers, the tip of his tongue slowly tracing along her bottom lip, as if savoring her. Then he pulled away and gazed at her in wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe…
“My God,” he murmured. “You taste like peaches.”
She blinked, lost in the fog of arousal. “I…what?”
A barrage of gunfire erupted from the gardens. Flinching violently, he shoved her away, and his hand flew to his side.
She staggered backward from the unexpected force of the shove and stared at him. What on earth…? Stunned, she pressed the back of her hand against her lips and caught the unexpected wildness in his eyes, the sudden panic that seized him.
Her throat tightened with panic of her own. “Thomas?”
Forcing deep breaths of air into his lungs, he squeezed his eyes shut as if physically pained. His pale face darkened, and he muttered a sharp curse as he raked a trembling hand through his hair, the other one still pressed against his side. His entire body shook. Violently.
“That was just my brothers,” she explained quietly, feeling the need to say something—anything—to fill the awkward space between them. “The shooting match, remember? You said you’d been there.”
“I know,” he bit out, then cursed again.
She stared, unable to slow the frightened pounding of her heart. His reaction was so unexpected, so odd. He’d seen the shooting match himself and knew they’d be firing off pistols all day. But he’d reacted like a man terrified. And trapped.
“Are you all right?” Her gaze lowered to his side and the hand still pressed there. With a concerned frown, she reached for his arm—
“Don’t!” He jerked away with a scowl, then savagely rubbed at his wrists even as he continued to take deep, harsh breaths. “I’m fine,” he snapped.
Rawness edged his voice, and the icy blue eyes, which just moments before had looked on her with heated desire, now flashed a warning to leave him alone and keep her distance.
Even as he
r own heart raced, she forced herself to breathe slowly and stand there calmly. For his sake. But if she’d had any sense, she would have fled. Just hitched up her skirts and run toward the house, not giving him any lingering thoughts except to wonder how much distance she could put between them. He was dangerous, far too keen for her safety, and oh so magnetic—everything about him screamed frantically at her that she should leave him be.
Except that she knew he needed her.
She slowly reached for him again.
This time he didn’t stop her. With her eyes steadily holding his gaze, she closed her fingers over his, careful to avoid his wrists. She moved toward him, one deliberate step at a time, and closed the distance he’d created when he shoved her away. Her hand slid down into his palm, their fingers interlocking in a caress that was somehow even more intimate than the press of his mouth on her bare throat had been just moments before. The fierce beat of his pulse coursed through him and pounded into her. After a few minutes, his shaking ebbed.
She lifted her free hand to brush a lock of black hair from his forehead. Slowly she rose up on tiptoe to touch her lips reassuringly to his, the entire time holding his hand, his fingers laced tightly through hers.
“Thomas,” she whispered, attempting to chase away the wildness in him and pull him back to the moment. “It’s all right. We’re safe.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted again, but this time much less harshly and much more like the confident man she’d met last night. The same man who’d pulled her into the tack room this morning and kissed her so ferociously before the gunfire shook him. “Your brothers startled me, that’s all.”
“They do that quite often to people,” she acknowledged quietly, and somehow kept her disbelief of his words from registering on her face. Oh, his reaction had been so much more than simply being startled! He had panicked. Even now she sensed the hesitation in him, an anxious unease as if he didn’t trust himself not to fall into another fit. But she respected his unspoken desire that she not press and stepped back.
How I Married a Marquess Page 6
