Page 4

I T WAS DARK. HE was so close. And he was a powerful, handsome man. Having hardly spoken to him she already felt consumed by him. His presence. His command. Her body took action all on its own.

That was what Astrid was telling herself as her lips pressed into his.

She hadn’t thought it through, though. The idea had probably been to silence the madman who was giving away their location.

All her efforts to lead them away from where she originally stood were being overridden.

But if the idea was that kissing meant no talking, how long did she want the no talking thing to continue for? Because it was continuing…

She had never before kissed a man beyond a peck on the cheek, yet here she was, initiating it. And eager for more.

If the waltz had knitted her soul to his, this kiss was sewing her body to him.

His hands tightened around her ribs as his tongue ran along the seam of her mouth. It was an invitation to open, and she RSVPed immediately.

His tongue was in her mouth. A burning passion swept through her. Her nipples were little pebbles now, grinding against his chest.

But they were in the middle of a game. Although it was dark, surely someone was cheating and could potentially see what was going in when they walked close enough.

With a quiet groan, she pushed back.

He still had his blindfold on. She stared as his mouth hung open and ragged breaths escaped him.

“Later,” she whispered. He nodded as a slow smile took over his face, and she was dazzled by more flutters in her stomach and a tingle that ran up her arm.

This was the first time she had seen him smile, and she was addicted to it.

Even with a blindfold covering his eyes and the two of them in a darkened room, she could see how his smile lit up his face.

She had an uncanny sense that his smile could light up her life if she let it.

She reached up and slid the blindfold from his eyes. Her fingers streaking through his soft, satiny tresses. His eyes flapped shut with her movements.

“We must continue,” she said.

His eyelids flew open.

“The game.”

He looked around, as if in remembrance of where they were.

“Let’s get this over with then,” he agreed gruffly.

The two of them made little effort to dodge the rest of the blindfolded guests, and the game was nearing its end.

One man was left. Everyone could see him now, but he still had on his blindfold.

The whole group of them were making sounds to call him over, but the man was plastered.

He was tripping over every little speck of dust to float in the air.

He was on his hands and knees, crawling over to them in laughter.

As he approached he tugged on Astrid’s dress.

She felt the bodice shift downward and glanced at her chest to ensure her ladies were still in place.

Michael grabbed the man by the arm. With a growl, he said, “All right. You’ve touched her now. Game’s over. In fact, call it a night.”

A few groans were heard, but mostly by the men hoping for a second round of the game.

“To bed for everyone.” The authority in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn’t wait until she kissed him again and he used his authority over her. But he would have to be the one to make that move.

She smiled to herself.

“Everyone out,” Michael was now directing all the guests to leave the room. As if they were a herd of sheep, everyone began to squeeze through the doors. Michael stood sentry at the doorframe and Astrid hung back. She was just about to leave the room when she noticed a loose thread on her bodice.

There were innocuous moments in life that held the power to completely alter one’s path.

Shatter a reputation. It could be subtle or it could be dramatic.

This was both. And if, if perchance, Astrid had known the catastrophic outcome of such a tiny gesture, she wouldn’t have done it.

But there was no way of having such forethought.

So she did what any reasonable person might do, she reached down and tugged on the loose thread to remove it from her dress.

***

“NIPPLE!” THE DRUNK CAD shouted. Michael wanted to strangle him.

His hands were balled into fists and he bit back the overwhelming urge to punch a hole in his face.

Or the wall beside him. His anger was tiny bits of burning ember prickling all over his entire body.

His overall temperature had risen to that of a volcano about to erupt.

Did the man have no honor? He was drunk, obviously, but was there no filter at all?

The first clue should have been him being the last one to touch Astrid.

The second clue should have been him crawling on the ground for the final move of the game.

The third clue, plain and simple, was the man’s obnoxious face.

The face that Michael was glaring at in hopes it might explode.

Everyone was out in the corridor, or so Michael thought. At the last second, the bumbling idiot who had moments earlier been crawling on the floor, decided to turn around and bump into Astrid. The abrupt collision led to chaos.

“Nipple!” the addlepated idiot screamed again. He needed to shut the hell up lest he wake the rest of the house. The idiot was leaning heavily against the doorframe for support and leering at Astrid’s turgid nipple.

Michael stole a look at Astrid, but instead of seeing her face, his eyes dipped south and he saw her wild honey colored nipple.

He was a monster for wanting to ravish her in front of everyone.

What that nipple did to his cock…he was throbbing.

The ache for her was overpowering. It rendered him senseless.

He could still feel her lips on his. Kissing her blindfolded in a room full of people had been the single more erotic moment of his life.

Her body wriggling against his, adjusting herself, was nearly his undoing.

Thankfully the drunk idiot finally did something useful. He laughed. No, it was a guffaw. A vile, vociferous, vulgar guffaw. Michael had never consciously loathed a person before, but he felt as close to it as he’d ever been. But the hideous guffaw brought his attention back to the gathered crowd.

A handful of the lingering guests, mere feet away, popped their heads back in through the doorway.

And Astrid was bright red.

What the hell was Michael doing just standing there? Frustrated at the delay of his reaction, he tugged her into him, to shield her from their curious stares.

“You two!” The drunk man wagged his finger at them.

“I should have known something was going on. Weren’t you the first to find her in the game?

I wonder how hard she made that. Or should I say you?

” Another awful guffaw. “What a little seductress.” He opened his arms out wide, palms up, and in mocking cried out, “God, when’s it my turn? ”

Seductress? The word struck a chord in him. As if it snapped him out of a dream. As if the water he had been temporarily holding flowed through his hands.

It was not unusual for women to try and trap a duke. He had been wildly impulsive. Reckless. The last time he had acted recklessly had fatal results. Inwardly, he chastised himself for past and present mistakes.

How had Michael not seen that? She had volunteered to be the Echo in the dark. She had kissed him. And now this?

What the devil was she thinking to make a move on him right then? Yes, they had kissed. And there probably would have been more at a later time. After he proposed. But now…everything had changed. Now he saw her for what she was. A temptress.

Guests were gawking. Astrid was trying to stuff her breast back into her dress. And Michael…he was aghast. There were no other words for it.

It was beyond improper for her to make such a move.

In front of people. So close to people who could actually see what was happening.

There were no blindfolds now. His impression of her had been all wrong.

She was not a down to earth, sweet woman.

She was a flirt. A wanton woman. A woman not suitable to be his duchess.

Yet, she was a woman with no brother to protect her, so at this moment, he was the only gentleman willing, and sober enough, to keep her from further harm.